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#and he has beautiful eye lashes too
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minne-cerbinna · 9 months
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Sometimes I am reminded of the fact that Iorveth just like canonically has very pretty eyes (or very pretty eye 😔).
In TW2, none of the men have eyelashes while the women do. As examples for the men, we have Geralt himself, Letho, Dandelion, and Roche:
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And as examples for the women, Triss, Saskia, Sheala/Síle, Philippa, and Mottle.
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However, Iorveth does have eyelashes on his in-game model:
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This is unique to him, not an elven trait, because as we can see on Cedric, Ciaran, and Ele'yas, they don't have eyelashes like Iorveth does:
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And it's not a fluke or graphical glitch on Iorveth, either, he consistently has them throughout the game:
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He's just really pretty like that.
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Other games and media be so afraid to give men long lashes and plump lips unless it's some pretty boy. But nay. Not SEGA's number two hit series: Ryu Ga Gotoku. They'll slap lip gloss and lashes that could dust bookshelves on the beefiest of beefy men.
the rgg series makes me, a man with long and beautiful lashes, feel seen and validated. thank you rgg for this important representation of men like me
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shaguro · 3 months
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sugardaddy!nanami brainrot because i'm in love with him.
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sugardaddy!nanami who doesn’t make sex a requirement in your agreement. it may seem odd but nanami just wants your company. you’re so beautiful, more precious than the expensive, dazzling jewels he’d gift you. more important than those business meetings, he’d leave in a heartbeat to hear your voice. and for a while, he was content with this.
any urges he had would be disregarded. he’s a gentleman, after all. he’s not an animal, he can control himself. that’s what he was telling himself when you’re on one of your weekly dates and you have on that fucking sundress. it’s tight, molds your body perfectly, so naturally nanami’s eyes are trained on the way your ass jiggles against the thin fabric. he takes a sharp breath in when you bend over and he swears he sees your bare skin — god, do you even have panties on? you fucking minx, you’re tempting him. you’re doing it on purpose and it’s working.
it took everything out of him to keep his composure, to ease the boner straining his slacks until he just thinks, fuck it. he has you laid out on the leather seats of his car with your legs spread, wet pussy on full display for him and he’s nestled comfortably between them, ready to devour you. “you know what you were doing, sweetheart..” he’s kissing your inner thighs, hurried and uncoordinated. “this isn’t part of our agreement but i just can’t wait anymore. it seems like you can’t either...” he rasps, peering at you through his long lashes. his eyes were wild and hungry, so unlike him. it’s like you had awoken something within the blonde man and he was in too deep now, there was no stopping it. “i’ve been dying to taste you... so lie back like a good girl and let me eat.”
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all rights reserved to @/hoesluvshanti, do not copy, steal or repost my content without permission.
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sttoru · 16 days
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𝝑𝑒 synopsis. after being married to satoru for two years, you still giggle and (secretly but not so secretly) fangirl about him whenever given the chance. your husband absolutely loves indulging you.
tags. husband!gojo satoru x wife!female reader. fluff, sfw, tiny bits of angst. tooth rotting fluff yeah. reader gets called ‘princess, baby’. inspired by this ask.
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“and and and, his smile ‘s just so beautiful,” you sigh dreamily, resting your head on satoru’s lap. you’re both enjoying the cozy night in your shared apartment. with no one bothering you—with no regards for the world that’s continuing its cycle outside.
satoru chuckles as he pats your head slowly, taking his time to appreciate every feature of yours. from your pink-ish lips to your pretty eyes. he’s so in love with the creation god has gifted him. he nods attentively, “yeah? what else?”
you giggle as he indulges you. it’s a habit of yours, to fangirl over your husband like you’re not literally his wife. satoru finds it absolutely adorable. plus, it boosts his ego. in a very good way.
“aaaand, he’s caring. that’s the one thing i love most about him,” you continue to ramble about your little ‘crush’ on that so-called mysterious white-haired sorcerer. satoru wishes he could capture this moment and keep repeating it over and over in his head.
the way you talk about your crush - him - is filling his stomach with butterflies. the tall man can’t deny the faint blush on his cheeks and the fuzzy feeling in his chest. you keep getting cuter and cuter the more time passes.
when he thinks you’ve reached a state of perfection in his eyes, you once again prove him wrong and go beyond that. “caring, hm? he must treat my princess real good then,” satoru hums and continues petting your head. his other hand rubs your stomach—fingers creeping under the material of your nightgown.
“he does,” you nod in agreement, “he treats me so well. i don’t know how i got so lucky to have met him.” you squirm a little as you feel satoru’s slender fingers graze your midriff, going back down to your belly and then back up your chest again. his touch is so intimate and loving. you’re spoiled. spoiled rotten by his affection.
satoru sighs. his white lashes flutter shut for a second. hearing you say such stuff makes him want to check if it’s reality he’s in. if it isn’t another too-good-to-be-true dream of his. no one had loved him as much as you did.
it feels good to know that he’s wanted. needed.
“no, i think he is the lucky one,” satoru continues. his hand petting your head stops and he moves it to rub your cheek tenderly. he leans his head down, the tips of your noses touching. he whispers, “having a pretty girl like you love him so dearly… yeah, he’s won the lottery.”
your heart skips a beat. satoru’s words leave you speechless. you don’t know if you can keep up the little silly act anymore. his flirting, the teasing and the genuineness behind his words—it’s all too much.
you grab the back of his head and push his lips down against yours. satoru’s breath hitches for a second before he gives in to you. he visibly melts, eyes closing and hands tightening their grip around your body.
“mmh,” satoru lets out a content moan. he loves you. he’s glad he’s met you and he’s glad he made you his wife two years back. you’re the only one for him. death won’t do you apart—no—he promised you on your wedding day that it wouldn’t.
you kiss him like it’s your last kiss on earth. the spark between you is still as warm and strong as it was when you met. the people who’ve warned you about the ‘honeymoon phase’ are clearly all wrong. they aren’t aware of the strength your bond with satoru has. you’re inseparable.
“i love you,” you sigh against satoru’s glossy lips and he deepens the kiss after that.
somebody loves him. somebody cares for him. that’s all he needs in life. his life is complete with you in it. he smiles against your lips and says the three words back, with more passion than ever before, “i love you too, my angel.”
nothing will ever separate you. not fate. not anyone.
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luveline · 4 months
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Hi idk if u have already written this if u have pls igonore but what about the first time bombshell reader calls Spencer beautiful?
fem, 1k
“Gideon has a new prodigy.” 
Your head rises of its own accord. “Yeah?” 
“He's younger than you. Twenty three, I think Hotch said. Fresh out of college, two degrees and working on a third? Or maybe he was getting his doctorate? I couldn't keep up.” Morgan shakes his head in disapproval. “Overeducated and under-experienced. He failed his physicals. The ones he took, anyways.” 
“Ooh, ouch. A baby on the team before me,” you joke with a smile. “Genius baby, but a baby.” 
Morgan smiles when you smile, he's too nice not to, but he picks up soon enough, crossing his arms where he's stood and wrinkling what was once a finely steamed suit jacket. “I don't know what Gideon's thinking.” 
“Does anyone ever know what he's thinking? What's Hotch say about it all?” 
Morgan reads what you're typing from over your shoulder and corrects a mistake. One day you won't need his help, but for now you take as much of it as you can get. You're not too proud to acknowledge when you mess up, you're a realist. Super sensible (in mind if not action). 
“Hotch lets Gideon do what he wants, mostly. What can you do when he's one of the originals?” Morgan leans heavily onto his desk by the forearms and shrugs. You’re similar in this regard; complain, move on. You're similar in other ways, too. That's why you get along. 
“Well, I want to meet this guy,” you say. “We'll be teammates just as soon as Strauss stops hating me. I'm one strategic boxed bouquet from a full pardon.” He laughs and touches your arm like he believes you. “Is he around?” 
“Here they are now.” 
You spin in Morgan's desk chair slowly. Jason Gideon is stalking through the office with his head in the contents of a manilla envelope, while a new face follows behind him talking a mile a minute. 
“Obviously,” you hear Gideon interrupt as they get close enough. “Agent Morgan can explain that to you. Don't overthink it, Spencer, just try to get through it.” 
He doesn't acknowledge you nor Morgan as he leaves Spencer and hurries up the steps leading to his and Hotch's offices. You aren't expecting much else from him. What little Gideon knows about you he doesn't like. If you ever get over the Strauss hurdle, it's him you'd have to convince next. You don't watch him cross the landing, your gaze focused on the man making his timid way toward you. Your lips part briefly, and then quirk into an overjoyed smile. 
“Oh, you're beautiful,” you say without thinking. 
He frowns at you. 
“Reid,” Morgan interrupts, “This is Y/N L/N. She works in the sex crimes division. As you can imagine, we get a lot of crossover.” You stand, holding out your hand. “Y/N, this is Spencer Reid.” 
“I don't shake. Sorry.” 
You press your hand to your chest. “Oh, that's okay. I shouldn't assume…” Your voice melds into a silkiness that has his shapely brows furrowing further, “It's nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. You're really pretty, do you know that?” 
Spencer peeks at Morgan quickly, who laughs good-naturedly. “She's serious, Reid. She's not making fun of you.” 
“You'd know,” Spencer says. It isn't malicious, but it isn't exactly friendly, either.
You twist to frown at Morgan deeply. “Morgan, you're not being nice to him?” 
“I'm being plenty nice, sweetheart, but this is how it works. I gotta haze him a little.” 
“No, you don't.” You tip your cheek toward your shoulder to look at Spencer through your lashes. “He pretends to be worse than he is, I promise. But don't let him neg you, okay? You're smarter than he is–” 
“Hey.” 
“–and he's used to being the office pretty boy. It's jealousy, nothing else,” you finish. Spencer really is gorgeous now you're close enough to see his eyes. A brown like caramelised sugar tented by dark, dark eyelashes. When he smiles, the very slightest hint of teeth shows, and it makes him even prettier. You endeavour to make him smile again. “Sorry if I'm coming off a little strong. It's not my intention.” 
“She's just nervous. You have everything she wants,” Morgan says. 
You sigh forlornly. “Oh, doesn't he?” Spencer's confused pout is even cuter than his smile. “Getting into the BAU is about as easy as walking on water.” 
“For a human,” Spencer says. “Easier if you're smaller. Like a water strider.” 
There's a silence. Morgan is aghast, you think. You're in love. 
“Yeah?” you ask, stars in your eyes as his own spark to life. 
“Because water strider's can transfer their weight, but also due to their hydrofuge hairpiles. Their microhairs.” He catches himself, measuring your expression carefully. “Did you really wanna know?” 
“Do you wanna get a cup of coffee and tell me about it?” you ask. 
His lips part as yours had when you first saw him. 
He's prevented from answering as Hotch's office door opens and the man himself walks out near the railing. “Good, you’re here. I have something to talk to you about.” 
You grin at him. “I'd love to chat, Agent Hotchner, but I'm getting to know your new protégé.”
“I see.” He waits. 
You would ignore him —Hotch has a soft spot for you (or rather, he likes you enough to put up with you, which is more than can be said about other members of his division) and he'd shrug off your dismissal— but you're really keen to hear what he has to say. Perhaps Strauss has changed her mind about your proposed trail basis with the team. 
“I'm so sorry,” you say to Spencer, immediately re-dazzled by his pretty, lovely face. “It was really nice to meet you, Spencer Reid. Maybe next time you can tell me more about it.” 
You give Morgan a quick thank you for the help with your paperwork and trust him to log out of your emails. In your rush up the stairs, you hear a wisp of conversation. 
“Was she messing with me?” 
Morgan laughs. “No, kid. That's how she is.” 
"Oh... She's nice."
"You have no idea."
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spectorgram · 5 months
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the letter
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theodore nott x f! reader summary: you get a letter from a secret admirer who wants to confess. your best friend is none too pleased. notes: jealous! theodore nott >>> word count: 1.4k
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You would think for a magical school, Hogwarts would have better heating or some heating spell, but the Slytherin dorms are frigid as usual as winter creeps up. You fasten your robe clasps and draw it tighter around you, simultaneously trying to tug your skirt down in a futile way to heat yourself up more. Your knee-high socks only do so much and you pretty much give up on the endeavor as you climb up the stairs and head for the Great Hall. 
You’re immediately greeted by the cozy warmth of the hall, spotting your friends, all swathed in green and silver robes and knits. Theo spots you first, sliding over and nearly knocking Blaise off the bench. “Blood hell, mate,” Blaise grumbles as you approach, kicking Theo’s leg lightly. 
You slip into the space created for you, right in between Theo and Enzo. You stifle a yawn and ask, “Can someone pass the eggs and bacon?”
As Enzo reaches for both platters, Theo’s eyes zero in on your legs. “How are you not cold?”
You frown. “I am,” you reply, piling your breakfast onto your plate, “but Pansy’s demon cat apparently thought my winter tights were toys and decided to scratch them all up.”
Pansy sighs, “I’ve ordered you new ones, calm down.” 
Theo drapes his robe over your legs and you smile gratefully at him. He smiles back and your heart flips. You don’t think you’ll ever get over how beautiful he is — all dark caramel curls and long lashes that frame those devastatingly blue eyes. He’s been your best friend since you started Hogwarts and you knew you loved him at first sight. The longer you’ve known him, the more you’ve fallen for him. 
It’s a tale as old as the world itself: you’re hopelessly in love with your best friend but you value your friendship far too much to do anything to jeopardize it.
“Mail’s here,” you hear someone say down the table. You look up to the ceiling, which has been enchanted to look like a sky that’s about to break open and drop snowflakes from its clouds. Owls soar in through the openings at the top of the walls, diving down towards their intended recipients. 
“Maybe your new tights are here,” Enzo says. 
Pansy adds, “I hope so. Then you’ll stop complaining about it.”
You snort, reaching up to grab a letter dropped by your family owl. You feed her a piece of scrambled egg as she takes off back towards the owlery. You tuck your parents’ letter into the inner pocket of your robe just as another owl swoops overhead, dropping a pale blue envelope on your lap. 
“Who’s that from?” asks Pansy. 
You shrug, using your butter knife to open it up. As you do, Draco grumbles at Mattheo: “For the love of Salazar, stop hogging the pastry basket.”
You skim over the letter addressed to you. You tilt your head in confusion and Blaise asks, “What’s it say?”
Enzo peeks over your shoulder and his face breaks into a smirk. “‘Meet me at the Astronomy Tower at midnight tonight. Signed, Your Secret Admirer.’” he reads.
“What?” Theo suddenly snatches the letter from your hand. You watch in confusion as his eyes dart back and forth. His shoulders tense and his mouth purses into a thin, hard line. 
“You doing okay there, Nott?” Matthew asks, shooting a simpering smile at his friend. Theo sends a glare back but doesn’t say anything, the letter’s paper crinkling under his grip. 
Pansy asks, “Are you going to go?”
You hesitate, surreptitiously glancing at Theo, startled to find that he’s gazing at you with an intensity you’ve never experienced. You pluck the letter from him and fold it neatly. “I think so,” you say. “I’m interested to see who it is.”
“Be sure to bring your wand,” Draco says. “Just in case.”
“Obviously,” you deadpan. The conversation shifts into whether anyone was prepared for midterms coming up. 
You fiddle with the letter in your lap. Theo’s silent for the whole conversation. 
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You chew on your bottom lip as you reread the same sentence in your textbook for what feels like the hundredth time. The letter has stuck in your head the whole day. It crosses your mind that it could be a prank or a set-up — it’s not a secret that Slytherin isn’t the most popular House among your classmates — but you know you can handle yourself. You’re more worried about how Theo was acting at breakfast. He didn’t say a word the rest of the meal, not even when Enzo and Mattheo tried looping him into the conversation. He just sat there, sullen and gloomy, and his mood seemed to worsen more when you handed him his robe back and said you had to get to class.
You sigh heavily, trying to play out every possible scenario that could happen between you and the letter writer. You check the clock in the library: 11:45; you need to head over to the Astronomy Tower. 
You groan, gathering your things, sliding them into your bag, and making your way back to the Slytherin common room to drop off your things in your dorm. “Cacophony,” you supply to the portrait, which swings open to let you in.
The common room is blissfully silent when you enter, a welcome contrast to the mess of thoughts in your head. You’re about to head down the hall to your dorm when you collide against someone. You huff an apology but when you feel their hand on your shoulder, you look up to see Theo. He looks intense, eyes wide and glinting with sharp determination and his mouth still set in that frown from earlier. “Sorry, Theo,” you say. “Didn’t see you there. Where are you going at this hour?”
“I was going to find you,” he replies. 
“Oh,” you say. “Well, here I am. Sorry, I’ve got to drop this stuff off and then—”
“Head to the Astronomy Tower,” he finishes for you, “to meet your ‘secret admirer.’” 
You don’t like the way he sneers at the last part of his sentence or the way he uses air quotations. You’re about to respond when he says, “Don’t go.”
“What?”
“Don’t go,” he repeats.
“Why not?”
He pauses before saying, “What if it’s someone just having a laugh?”
You bristle, hurt, and you feel your temper flare. “Is it so damn hard to believe that someone might actually have a crush on me?”
Theo laughs, razor-sharp and incredulous, as if he can’t believe that you’re saying something so outrageous, “No, it’s not.”
“Then why shouldn’t I go?”
“Because I don’t want you to!”
“For Salazar’s sake, Theo, you can’t tell me what to do!”
“I know that!”
“Then are you trying to tell me not to go?”
“Because I bloody like you!”
Your heart stutters to a stop. You can only hear the sounds of both of your labored breathing and you suddenly can’t meet his eyes, trying your best to wrap your head around the fact that your feelings are reciprocated. “How long?’ you ask softly, holding your breath.
“Since first year.”
You blink. “Really?”
He rakes a hand through his hair and sighs heavily, “Mattheo’s right; you’re so oblivious.” There’s another beat of silence and he asks, a little shyly, “How do you feel?”
You can’t stop the smile that spreads across your face. “I like you too, Theo. I’ve liked you since first year as well.”
He echoes your “Really?” and it makes you giggle, “I guess we’re both oblivious.”
He joins your laughter and you let your forehead rest on his chest as your shoulders shake. When it dies down, Theo shifts you off him and lifts your chin with his forefinger, any semblance of coyness gone. You gaze into his ocean blue eyes. Salazar, you could drown in them. He offers a charming smile and he leans close, just a few centimeters away, and says, “Can I kiss you?”
Your eyelashes flutter and your voice comes out barely louder than a whisper, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
Your lips meet, fervent and desperate, years of yearning releasing like water through a broken dam. Theo hooks his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible. You wind your arms around his neck, fingers toying with the hair at his nape. He walks you backward, slipping his tongue into mouth as he crushes you up against the wall. He deepens the kiss and your knees go weak. 
Theo moves your bag off your shoulder and drops it on the floor. The letter that rested at the top of the pile of possessions falls out, laying forgotten on the ground.
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rinhaler · 7 months
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sigh… toji is a good dad…. so i’m holding you at gun point for you to make a oneshot abt toji and his bimbo sugar baby or else
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aaaaa my first request and ofc it's a toji one! i love the idea of bimbo reader going shopping all of the time with daddy's credit card, and she always gets megumi some treats too!
warnings: 18+ MDNI, fem!reader, soft dom!toji, age gap (reader 20s toji 30s), pussy eating, ddlg, squirting, established relationship, (reader can be mamaguro or step mother, whatever you prefer!).
words: 1.5k
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He always gets home so late.
It’s 4am, now, and usually your eyes are too weary and heavy to welcome him home. But you’ve been prancing around the penthouse since you got home from a particularly lengthy shopping spree. The damage all contained to daddy’s credit card.
Megumi doesn’t cause too much trouble for you these days. He sleeps through the night so long as you read him a story and leave on the night light. It reminds you of yourself when you see him cuddle up and drift off to sleep with his favourite plush.
Daddy doesn’t mind if you’re sleeping upon his return.
In fact, he prefers it.
It gives him time to shower and clean up the evidence of his misdemeanours before climbing into bed beside you. But he’s surprised when he gets back and sees the lights still on and R&B music softly plays throughout the apartment. You realise he’s home when you hear the door lock sharply behind him.
He saunters through the penthouse, his pace quickens as he ascends the stairs. He’s careful as he opens the door to Megumi’s bedroom, smiling as he sees his son sleeping soundly.
You spritz some perfume when you hear his footsteps approaching. It’s crazy how nervous he makes you, an unrelenting desire to be his perfect girl at all times. Maybe you shouldn’t have been chugging back champagne like it’s water, though.
“Baby?” he speaks, softly, not wanting to scare you if you’d just fallen asleep with the lights on. “I’m home, princess…” he smiles as you come into his view. Sitting so sweet ‘n patient on the end of the bed for him.
“Hi daddy.” you smile, crossing one leg over the other as you take another sip of champagne. “Missed you s’much…” you confess.
His eyes scan the room and takes in the countless shopping bags from high end stores. The aged scar on his lip pulls deliciously as he smirks at the sight, and then seeing you staring up at him so innocently makes his heart and his cock swell.
“Looks like you had some fun today. Gonna give daddy a heart attack if you keep this up.” he laughs, only half joking as he approaches to kiss your forehead. It’s soft, like you’ll shatter if he applies too much force. You’re so precious to him, so delicate.
“Wanted to get somethin’ nice for Shiu’s birthday party… wan’ you to be proud of me.” you explain, batting your lashes like butter wouldn’t melt.
“Daddy’s always proud of you.” he assures you, kissing you again. “This little outfit new?” he asks, eyes raking over your body to examine your new clothes. A short tight skirt and a plunging crop top that leaves little to the imagination. His body sinks so that he’s kneeling in front of you, caressing your thighs and rubbing soft circles into them.
“Mhmm, s’all new.” you nod, your legs uncross so that he can settle between them with ease. His green eyes still staring up at you like you are the first woman he’s ever seen. The only one that has and will ever mean something to him. “The boots are new too…” you tell him, showing off the tan over the knee platforms.
“They’re beautiful baby…” he tells you, head dipping to plant a chaste kiss to your thigh. He moves to pull away, though his movement halts before he can fully raise his head. His right hand smooths up your thigh and under your skirt, a single finger cocking the material to reveal your bare cunt. “What’s this? You couldn’t afford some pretty panties on my card or somethin’?” he grins.
“They’re over there.” you point, your perfectly manicured finger forcing his gaze to follow to see a sky-blue thong rolled up on the ground beside a bag filled with that very same thong in every colour.
“Oh dear, princess, how’d they get over there?” he teases you, widening your legs one at a time to ogle at your glittering flesh.
“I dunno…” you shrug, cheeks warming as he keeps grinning at you. “Think they fell off.” you lie, the little pout on your face hiding a shameful smile desperate to form.
“Awe, sweetheart. Been touchin’ yourself waitin’ for daddy?” he wonders, already knowing the answer. “Of course you have, look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself in.” he takes the champagne flute from your hand and places it out of reach, your hand briefly holds the crown of his head as he continues to kiss between your thighs.
“Maybe,” you giggle, biting your lip. “Need your help, daddy, please…” you beg. You look down at him as he rests his cheek on your thigh like a pillow. He sighs, though it isn’t filled with malice or disappointment. He’s tired, and he knows you should be sleeping.
“Okay, darlin’.” he nods. “It’s late, though, we’ve gotta sleep. Just my fingers, okay?” he suggests, though he means it like an instruction.
“No, daddy… please use your tongue.” you request, the words sound so angelic as they break free from your needy throat. “Promise I’ll sleep right after.”
“My tongue, huh?” he smirks. “Alright, baby. Cum in my mouth like a good girl.” he commands. His arms hook around your thighs as he allows his head to fall between them.
A raucous moan leaves you as you hear him slurping at your slick. You keep your legs open wide as both of your hands hold his head, petite fingers carding through obsidian locks. Your body shudders as lips wrap around your clit, easily sucking and almost forcing you off balance.
You release him from your grip and balance on your hands behind you, neck craned to look up at the ceiling despite your eyes being welded shut. Your mind and body controlled entirely by his mouth. Your thoughts swirling with the feeling and the building pleasure as he licks and laves and sucks and kisses.
He doesn’t say a word, but he can’t take his eyes off you. Watching how you react to everything he does. Seeing how you twitch and shudder when he changes his actions. You gasp as he reaches up to push your little crop top to rest near your clavicle. He encourages you to rest your newly freed leg over his shoulder as he nips and tweaks at your nipple.
“Fuh— daddy!” you cry.
The authoritative label never fails to make his cock leak whenever it spills from your pretty lips. He wants to touch himself while you cry out his name, and while you flood his mouth with your essence.
But he can’t.
He can’t because he knows if he does, he can’t rest there, he won’t.
He knows he’ll have to slip it between your puffy folds and fuck into you until your cunt is gushing and dribbling with your juices and his sticky, potent cum. He’ll fuck you until you’re unconscious and oblivious but so full and happy because he’s taken care of you just like a good daddy should.
He wants it all.
But he wants what’s best for you.
And he knows you should be resting, and so should he.
So, for now, straining against his pants while he devours your flavour is enough. Tears roll down your cheeks as he suckles and slurps again and again with no restraint, watching as you fail to hold back your bliss. His breath fans over your cunt when you look down at him. Crystalline tears clinging to your lashes like diamonds making his heart pound as he grunts into your heat.
“D-Daddy… think I-I’m close.” you tell him, a panicked strain in your words as you warn him. He keeps his pace and changes nothing, determined to bring you to your climax sooner rather than later. “Ah.. ah—! Feels funny, daddy! Ngh—!” you finish.
He pushes your legs apart as wide as they’ll go, he watches your pussy squirt clear liquid as you finish. He drinks it up like it’ll give him eternal youth, still swirling and licking his tongue over your cunt as he attempts to prolong the feeling for you. You stroke his head and play with his hair as he lets up on you, your body overcome with a chill as your tension leaves you.
You smile as he coats your body in gentle kisses, a silent action to note how proud he is. How much he adores you, how beautiful you are. He loves you more than words can begin to say.
He rests his head on your thigh again and stares up at you, his gaze filled with nothing but devotion. You feel him carefully pull down your boots without breaking his stare until he kisses down your legs behind the cold wake the absence of your boots cause.
“’m sleepy now, daddy.”
He smiles, happily. “Good girl.”
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© 2023 rinitxshi
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tteokdoroki · 8 months
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☆༉ — SATORU GOJO. pretty brown eyes.
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about. gojo might be the one with the six eyes, but there’s nothing special about those. your brown eyes are real weapon, here.
warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! sfw, fluff, hurt comfort. slight hints to insomnia, idk how infinity works sorry, reader has brown eyes, afab!reader.
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“you could kill me if you wanted to.”
it’s the dead of night when he whispers your name. though low in volume, his tongue curls around each syllable loud enough for you to hear him. “
“‘toru, what are you on about—” digging the heal of your palm into your eyes, you dislodge the crust from your lash line and groan. the red lines on your digital clock read sometime between three and four am— but the digits blur as your mind swims with sleep.
“your eyes. they’re so perfect.” a loving grin etches itself onto his face when you crack one open to look at him, masking over the exhaustion seeping from his pores and the anxiety that spikes in the sapphire pools of his own eyes. “you should be able to get away with anything because of them.”
“baby,” you reiterate and roll over to face him fully. gojo gets like this when he’s overworked and worried, when there’s something big on his mind you’re not quite sure you’d understand. you move to jab a thumb into his forehead, right between his brows to alleviate the ache in his skull but you don’t let your disappointment show when rough skin meets the dull buzz of his infinity.
you forget that his six eyes flow in the dark — that his blue eyes are not as blue as they seem. “you’re talking nonsense, it’s late. get some sleep.”
“my eyes. they could kill me if i worked too hard.”
satoru’s eyes are a lot stormier than most would expect, they can be dark and cold. like an angry ocean tired of tournament. they can be bright, full of hope and loving — you notice that change whenever he’s with your students. they hide behind the frame of his ability, the one that hardly ever turns off despite how it really could kill him.
his mind is always running, his body almost always on empty.
in the moonlight, you see a faint sliver of silver between the flecks of diamond and stormy skies.
he swipes a gentle thumb just over cheek yours to catch a fallen lash. “but yours,” gojo continues, voice thoughtful and low. tired above all else. “those pretty brown eyes…baby, they’re dangerous in a different way. beautiful in another that makes me feel safe. puts my mind at ease or somethin’. one look ‘nd I’d be doing anything for you,”
there the two of you are, face to face in the dark — cheeks pressed to pillows and heads under the covers as if you’re children shielding yourself from the world. creating the safe space to let satoru confess.
“if those pretty brown eyes were the last thing i got to see before i died. then i think i’d be okay.”
“don’t say that.” your face crumples and his infinity falls away as if gojo had been anticipating your touch, the buzz just shocking through your skin as you wrap your arms around his larger frame, pull his head down to your heart beating in your chest. “you’re not allowed to die, satoru. not yet.”
“i know.” for once he’s grateful he can’t see your eyes — he hates the way they shine when you cry.
“i need you.”
“i know.” he’s quiet. “i need you too.”
“then rest, you don’t have to keep watch.” gojo feels the shake in your lungs as you speak. you worry too much about him. but with your hand cascading through his soft locks, and the other squeezing him close he’s finding it hard to resist.
usually when he lays next to you, he’s stiff as a board, always anticipating whatever danger might come next. but the biggest threat to him of all is you, and those big brown bambi eyes of yours — the way they’re wet with love, shiny with tears because you adore satoru gojo. you care about him way too much for your own good.
those eyes of yours are convincingly treacherous , he can’t help but let his body sag and let go of his cursed technique while you rub his back and soothe him.
“you’re dangerous, yanno,” satoru grunts, lips dragging along your skin with every word. “especially when you look at me like that, with those puppy dog eyes…can’t say no to you.”
but you smile as he drifts off, his tall frame heavy against you — your lashes blinking soft against his forehead as you curl around him protectively. “i’d rather use them to get you to rest, rather than kill you. ‘toru.”
your words are wasted on deaf ears — his deep snore indicating that gojo is finally asleep, doing himself a favour and locking his pretty blue eyes away.
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꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.
4K notes · View notes
crazyk-imagine · 8 months
Text
Napping and Cooking
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Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Straw hat!reader
Characters: Vinsmoke Sanji, Straw hat!reader, Monkey D. Luffy, Roronora Zoro, Nami, Usopp, Arlong
Warnings: Fluff, fighting, the asshole Arlong, Sanji being subtlety flustered, you take lots of naps, Sanji being adorable as hell, everyone worrying over you, protect Nami plan is a go, Sanji being like a boyfriend but nothing's official
Word Count: 1,849
A/N: Reader sleeps a lot because her abilities take up a lot of her energy.
Reader also had a lot of hair and it sometimes gets in their face so she has to flip their head upside down and then back up or run their hand through their hair to see.
Reader has a jacket like Mihawk but it goes down to her knees otherwise she'll trip
This man... is something else
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You enter the restaurant and slip past the host in search of your crew. You can hear Luffy and know exactly where they are. You stand in front of the table, "you guys ditched me."
"You were still sleeping," says Luffy.
"You didn't wake me up," you tell them with a pout.
"We tried to," Nami tells you.
"You’re the one that wouldn’t wake up," Zoro adds, glancing at you; wondering if you’ll even make it through the meal.
-
Sanji glances your way and notices your figure standing in front of an unattended table.
He admires your jacket as he heads over.
-
"Fine, you tried. Now move over, stretchy." You try to move him only to fail, which your captain laughs at. You roll your eyes and walk over him, Usopp being kind enough to scooch over, so you have room.
You sit at the top of the booth. You didn't realize it, but you zoned out until Nami smacked your leg. Your jaw drops as you rub the spot. "Ow. Was that necessary?"
She gestures to the blond standing in front of the table.
"And for the madam?"
"What are we doing?"
Nami and Zoro roll their eyes.
"We're ordering our drinks," Usopp tells you.
"Ah, right. Water."
"And would the madam like stilled, sparkling, mineral? With ice or without? Cubed or crushed?"
The corner of your lip twitches. "Well, aren’t we sweet? You want to please all the ladies you, see?"
His head drops, he glances at the ground before looking back up, staring at you through his lashes and hair. "Only the ones who entice me with their beauty."
"I'll let you surprise me."
"Excellent choice, madam. You will not be let down."
"I know I won't."
"What was that?" Zoro asks.
"What?" You turn to him.
He starts rattling off everything Sanji said.
"He was being polite."
"To you," the orange haired girl mutters.
"Huh?"
"He only called me madam once and then you stole his attention. Clearly there was something about you that caught his eye."
"I don’t think so."
Every single kind of water he offered was brought to the table.
-
After Zoro loses the battle and the head chef along with the blond come in to help him, you two start talking each time he's here.
"I smell food," you lean against the doorway.
He chuckles, "I would certainly hope so. You're the only one who hasn't eaten. Are you worried that worried about your friend?"
"Of course, I'm worried about the idiot but not enough to lose too much sleep over him. My abilities take up a lot of my energy and sleeping helps me. I was napping."
He nods, "ah, now that makes sense." He glances up from the ingredients he grabbed. "Would you like to eat something?"
You nod, "I would, kind of why I came down here."
"I know. How do you feel about exposing your palate to an array of flavors?"
"I think I made a mistake."
He shakes his head, smiling. "Nonsense. I'm going to make you an unforgettable meal."
-
You were up on the roof when Argon and his crew entered.
You secure the rope around your waist before jumping down. "Why are you picking on people less than half your size?"
"Who are you?"
"Someone who's already kicked your bony nosed ass."
He growls, realizing who you are.
"You want to fight someone? Fight me," you smirk. "I'm a better opponent than stretchy." You tug at the rope, rolling it up. "Come on, then. Try to hit me."
He comes at you, and you dodge him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
He growls before his hand clamps down on your jacket (something you made sure happened on purpose).
"Don't touch my jacket."
"Why? You gonna cry if I do."
"No," you grab his hand and twist his wrist, "you might. Clone shift."
He's baffled at the sight of him, standing before him. "Stop it. Turn back."
"Nope."
He and Luffy are outside before you can stop him.
"Hey, you two idiots."
His crew turns to you, eyes widening at the sight of their captain even though he just walked out the door.
You punch the two of them hard enough for them to roll on the dock outside the restaurant.
-
You walk over to check on Sanji and Usopp, the former taking a big hit on his back.
"Are you two-" you groan and hold onto the railing as you shift back to yourself.
Blood catches the story teller's eye. "Did you take some of Zoro's cut?"
All the pain in his body left him as the blond urges forward to catch you.
"So, what? It's nothing. I can take it."
"You overexerted yourself enough already. Come on," Sanji says, helping you up.
"Are we going to help Luffy?"
"We are, you're not."
You let out a small disagreeing noise.
"Don't argue with me."
-
You all catch the sight of the energetic captain falling into the water and rush over.
Sanji's quicker than you and takes action. He throws off his shirt and jacket before diving in.
You force yourself to stay awake and not pass out.
His head pops up back in the surface.
Usopp helps haul the rubber man onto the dock.
You hold a handout for the chef, but he doesn't take it. "Where's Nami?"
"She's gone. She's apart of Arlong's crew," Usopp tells Luffy.
Sanji's body slumps down, his butt resting on the heels of his feet.
Dots cloud your vision and your feet sway, you knew the second you cloned, you were done.
Sanji and Usopp catch you before you could fall.
The blond man leaning down to listen to your heartbeat and make sure you're- "She's still breathing."
"She," Luffy takes a deep breath, his voice coming out scratchy. "She did too much."
"We need to get you two back on your ship."
-
You wake up and find yourself in your room.
You sit up, finding no one else here.
You grab your jacket and make your way to the kitchen.
-
"He convinced you?"
Sanji jumps, not expecting you to be awake. "Are you hungry?"
You nod and slowly make your way over to the couch. "No objections. I'll take whatever the chef makes."
"That can get dangerous if you say that to the wrong person."
"Good thing I'm just talking to you."
The corner of his lips twitch as gets back to work.
"Hey, I just-" Usopp smiles when he sees you here. "You're up. How're feeling?"
"Hungry and tired."
"The usual, cool. I wasn't worried, at all." He stops in front of the chef. "What's new on today's menu?"
"Not for you."
He gasps, "rude. I fought in that battle too, you know."
"You crawled away like a bug being found under a log."
He whines when you out him.
The other two enter the kitchen.
Zoro glances at you, "you're an idiot."
"Way to make a girl feel special asshole."
"You're going to have a scar."
"You're welcome for making sure you don't die because of your own mistake, moron."
He leans against the wall, watching over everyone.
Luffy stretches his arms out to hug you, letting his body slam into you. "You're awake. Are you okay? You passed out. Is that always normal?"
Usopp smacks the captain, "get off her. She just woke up, you're not helping."
"Food is ready."
"Time to eat!"
"No," Sanji smacks Luffy with the dish towel. "The lady gets hers first."
You stick your tongue out at your friend. "I knew I liked you for a reason."
"Other than my good looks."
The green haired man rolls his eyes, "would you stop flirting and feed the idiot before he steals the food."
"Not until the lady gets hers."
"The lady will be fine."
"You call yourself a man. A true man would make sure-"
You flick the two of them on their foreheads. "Shut up."
You give Luffy and Usopp their bowls, "eat you animals."
-
"Oh, we told the town of your sacrifice," you explain to Nami.
"We didn't know. Could you ever forgive us?" The guard asks.
"This is going to be a massacre," the orange haired girl says.
"For them," you crack your knuckles. "I got this."
Usopp thins his lips, "I don't think so. You're just gonna lose consciousness again."
"Why don't I knock you unconscious?"
Sanji steps forward and pulls you off the side. "Excuse her, she was woken up from a nap." He covers your ears. "She's cranky."
You smack his hands off you.
-
You sit on the wall, watching as everyone fights. It was the smart move, save more of your energy.
It was only when they started bad mouthing Nami that you really started getting fired up. "Woah! Hey! Hey!" You grab a rock and throw it at the fishman's head. "Don't bad mouth my friend!"
Sanji removes his jacket without removing his gaze.
"Now you've done it," Zoro mumbles.
You jump down and walk towards the green haired man.
Sanji doesn't stop until the fishman has been taken care of.
Zoro judges the chef, with him calling out his finishing move.
"Ignore him. You did good, Sanji."
He lowers his head, unable to respond to your comment.
Zoro shakes his head, not in the mood to deal with his pining.
Usopp makes his way back to you.
"Nice of you to join us."
The storyteller smiles. "Yeah, just- uh- wish I didn't miss so much of this."
You glance at Zoro and raise a brow, both of you knowing that he doesn't mean it.
The green haired man just gives him a look of disappointment.
Nami runs away from the deteriorating building and glances back over her shoulder. She turns back and runs towards you guys.
Sanji opens his arms with a smile, "Nami!"
She ignores him and throws her arms around the second in command and storyteller.
You offer him a sorry look before turning around at the sound of her calling your name. "Are you okay?" You ask.
Instead of replying she throws her arms around you, holding you tightly. "Thank you."
"Why?"
"You and Luffy gave me something I never thought I could have."
You smile. "Alright kid, get off me." You wipe her under eyes, making sure no one knew how much she was crying. You pat Sanji's shoulder, "she just doesn't know you yet."
"That would make sense."
"Where's Luffy?"
"He's still in there, fighting Arlong."
You huff, "why can't he wait for help?" You groan and start to take a step forward when they stop you.
The chef grabs your wrist and pulls you back. "Nope."
"Are you nuts?" Usopp asks. "I mean seriously. You want to fight that fishman?!"
"I'm not going to let Luffy-" The building collapses. "Great! My oldest friend is-"
"Nami! We are you're friends! We are your crew!"
"Still alive! Yay!" You jump up and down before throwing yourself into the blond's arms.
"Look who finally got their hug."
"Shut up, Nami."
Continue to: Part II
4K notes · View notes
pearlywritings · 1 month
Text
The scent of being mine
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synopsis: lately your husband has been staying deep in his thoughts as if bothered by something. It's only natural you want to figure it out and help.
pairing and characters: Neuvillette x fem!reader
tw: established relationship (marriage), tiny hurt/comfort, draconian features (scenting, growling, implied sharp nails)
word count: 3k+ words
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“Beloved, you are brooding. More than you usually are.”
Your comment snaps Neuvillette from his thoughts, long lashes fluttering in surprise. He blinks, primordially beautiful eyes finally focus on the document in front of him, and the man makes a frustrating discovery - he’s been staring at one single line of text for who knows how long.
“Beloved?” Your sweet voice soothes the momentary disappointment, and Iudex’s undivided attention is on you in a second. 
“Yes, my dear? My apologies, I didn’t quite catch what you said. Could you be so kind and repeat, please?”
You lower the book onto your lap, and the man can’t help but relish in the sight of you comfortably lounging on the sofa in his office at the Palais Mermonia, with your shoes neatly put near one of its legs and your legs hidden under the light embroidered plaid. Your back and side sink into multiple pillows, half of which he fetched for you previously from the second sofa, and you look pleasantly relaxed within the walls of his work space, knowing very well that he has no meetings scheduled for the day, and the only people who can enter his office are the melusines with document delivery. And who would be uncomfortable in the presence of their own ‘daughters’?
“I was saying that you are brooding. And It won't be superfluous to note your sour mood too,” you nod in the window’s direction, where the sky is cloudy and gloomy. It has been this way for a couple of days already. “I wasn’t bringing it up since I thought you were simply a bit stressed, but after observing you for some time, I am sure there’s something on your mind that’s been bothering you immensely.”
Neuvillette exhales deeply. How could he ever hide anything from the woman he’s been married to for so long? Not that he ever tried, but subconsciously he sometimes tends to push his own worries aside not to make you fret. Besides, usually it’s not something of a big deal…
Watching the thoughts overtaking his mind again, you grab the bookmark from the armrest and soon the closed book takes its place, at the same time as you push the plaid off. Not caring to put the shoes on, you make a quick way to the grand doors to turn the key left in the hole from the inside. But changing your mind a little, you take a hold of a handle instead and crack the door slightly open, enough for the melusine at the reception to hear you.
“Sedene, sweety, Monsieur Neuvillette is taking a small break.”
You can’t quite see her perking up in her booth, but you know she is aware of what that means.
“Thank you for informing me, Madame. Would you like anything to drink or eat? I could send someone to put an order in whatever restaurant you’d like.”
“Much appreciated, but we’ll be fine.”
You hear her hum in understanding and only then close the door and lock it, turning the key two times.
“Now…” glancing back at your husband, you slowly walk back to your previous place of resting, but making it past the sofa and then around the desk, stopping right at his side. Neuvillette lifts his head, looking at you, and immediately pushes the chair back to make room. Gloved hands take a hold of your waist when you step closer and help you settle down onto his lap. One stays gingerly on your hip, the other is placed upon your knees, as you adjust your position, turning half-around to face him. Mesmerizing eyes with slitted irises stare at you with hardly-veiled adoration, and for a moment it almost fools you into thinking that nothing is wrong. Until he inhales and white eyebrows furrow slightly.
“Neuvi, what’s going on? Is it something I can assist you with?”
The man leans forward, pressing his face to your neck, silky locks of his fringe tickling you when he releases a breath. Your fingers find the back of his head, softly scratching the scalp, making him groan in satisfaction. His own digits flex, and you think you feel the claws digging slightly into your flesh through the dark material of his gloves and the skirt of your own clothes, and you let the dragon be a tiny bit greedy in expressing his affections.
“It’s not something I thought would bother me,” you hear him murmur into your neck. Instead of rushing to ask him to elaborate, you encourage him to take his time with a soft touch, gently following the pointy shape of his ear with your fingertip. The man shivers, but quickly relaxes, leaning into your body a bit more.
“Why logically I understand I’m in the wrong, but on an instinct level it doesn’t give me rest. Remember the celebration Lady Furina threw three days ago?”
Ah, of course you remember. It was a nice little feast the Archon organized to mark another successful staging of hers, to which your husband and you were obviously invited. You can’t, however, recall anything particular that could upset Neuvillette. He wasn’t offered anything to taste he didn't enjoy - had his own supply of fresh water even; he had no cases to worry about, having finished everything rather important beforehand, and he was not engaged in any interactions he could potentially be uncomfortable with. Maybe it was something related to you? However, you can’t think of anything: most of the time you spent conversing with Furina, discussing her next outstanding and grand performance, or dancing with your beloved, happily twirling in his embrace. Sure, other people approached you too, but…oh. Wait, there was something.
“Do you mean the celebration during which that opera performer from Li Yue was flirting with me?”
Immediately his body tenses and a low sound, kind of sounding like a growl, escapes his strained throat. He quickly composes himself though, once you drop your hand from his head to his back, drawing circles there.
“...I apologize for that.”
“Please don’t, I don’t mind a bit of jealousy,” you assure him, and the man finally leans back, looking at you with those fairytale eyes.
“You think it was jealousy?”
“Well, maybe right now it was just a bit of frustration, but back then I think it was jealousy,” Neuvilette hums, lowering his gaze, processing the information. You meanwhile decide to ask more. “But what sparked it? You know I am yours and that no human will ever be able to steal me from you.”
“Ah, my love, I am fully aware of that,” gloved palm leaves your knee and cups your cheek instead. “I know all that, but…but what I felt is hard to explain in words.”
“Try,” you encourage, turning your head and kissing his palm, “I’ll get it.”
“Alright,” with a sigh he lets his fingertips outline the contour of your jaw and travel down the side of your neck, sending a pleasurable sensation down your back. “I suppose I should start with what happened before, when we were still back home. You looked so ravishing and regal - a true gem to an eye, - and I just couldn’t help but let some of my scent linger on you.”
Which is absolutely fine, you love doing the same for him.
“Keeping that in mind I felt all those strange emotions wringing my heart, as he was giving you compliments, especially about the scent, not realizing it’s mine. And then more and more.”
As he doesn’t find what more to say, you stare at him, trying to analyze the information. After a couple of minutes of silence, during which you absent-mindedly braided a little braid out of his straight lock, you decide to summarize.
“So… If I understood you correctly, it felt upsetting that, basically, he caught the whiff of you on me, yet didn’t stop his attempts to hit on me. Am I right?”
“Exactly,” a small smile graces his pale lips, and Iudex presses a delicate kiss to your shoulder. “I could not have worded it better.”
“Hmm… Now I see why you are torn. It is annoying for sure, but it’s not like an ordinary human could know of draconian peculiar properties.”
He nods, thumbing at the pulse point on your neck, staring a little bit past you. His state is saddening, really, even though a tiny slither of pride infiltrates your heart - knowing your husband wants the world to know you are his as much as you want to claim the same about him… Would’ve made you purr if you were a feline.
You shiver when Neuvillette brings his face close again, soft lips pressing to the side of your neck.
“You are so dear to me, my love…” he breathes in a way that makes your heart skip a beat, voice full of unbridled devotion, something not many can hear from this stoic man throughout their whole life. “There are days when I can’t bear the thought of you not being close to me, I overcome with desire to be in your presence, to hold you in my arms, to listen to your divine voice… When you call my name, I want to bring everything I have to your feet.”
“But you already do so,” you cup his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “You don’t have to say all of it - you sound like you are apologizing, like you are trying to excuse your natural behavior. Don’t do it, please. You are so precious to me, I’d be damned if I ever felt unnerved by something like this.”
“I apologize if it sounded like this,” he sighs, long lashes flattering close, when you proceed to kiss over his eyelids. “I just meant to express how thankful I am that you chose me.”
“Oh, Neuvi,” you chuckle, kissing the bridge of his nose and when the tip of it. “I adore when you are so affectionate in private. As for the public display, if we return to the topic of scent… I think I could figure something out for the both of us. If you trust my judgment, that is.”
“How can I not?” Those eyes are staring back at you, bottomless pools swirling with wonder and elation. “Only if you truly want this.”
“I do,” your lips hover dangerously close to his. “And I will find the way.”
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Soft thuds rhythmically yet quite leisurely cut through the lofty noises of the Court of Fountaine, catching the attention of the passersby. One hit of an elegant cane against the pavement equals two steps of yours, as you and your husband walk through the main square of the city. Your appearance - no matter together or by yourself - always gathers attention, and you could bet that if Fontaine didn’t have a law prohibiting photography of executives without their permission, your picture would’ve adorned tomorrow’s copy of The Steambird.
And you are a sight to behold - your hand resting in the crook of his elbow, gloves matching perfectly his today’s cravat of choice, jewelry specifically picked to mirror the beauty of their wearer’s partner, clothes tailored to clearly be a ‘couple outfit’... It is pretty evident that this outing is planned, if the Iudex’s absence from the Palais Mermonia didn’t serve as a clue.
You hold no conversation, rather relishing in the warm rays of sunlight (you did though tease Neuvillette upon stepping outside that his mood seemed to improve). Despite looking like it’s you who is clutching onto the man and him leading you somewhere, it’s completely vice versa. Your beloved has absolutely no idea what kind of ‘surprise’ he is soon to experience, but your previous words keep his mind at rest - you found a solution for his concern.
As a result, his high spirits are pretty apparent to the people who know him well. Or the melusines, if one is being accurate, who approach you two along the way with warm words of greetings and cute waves of their hands, which brightens Neuvillette’s features more evidently.
“I think we should soon visit the Merusea Village,” you suggest after bidding goodbye to Tristane. “And do a little gathering for our girls who work here, in the city. I am sure they have many stories to share with us.”
“I would really like that,” Neuvillette's smile is a heart-warming sight. You can only hope that you’ll get to see it more after today. “How about we start planning tomorrow after work?”
“That would be wonderful! I can’t wait to write an invitation to every single one. And to the village too.”
“Then it’s on you as always,” he agrees without objection, leaning a little to subtly kiss your temple when you turn the corner. Letting out a soft chuckle, you give him a fond look, and then focusing back on the street.
It’s barely a couple of minutes later when your partner sees you perk up. Trying to pinpoint what caught your eye, the man scans the signboards of the shops and boutiques lining up at both sides of yours. Jewelry? No, he doesn’t think so - you adorn each other with fine gemstones regularly. Clothes? Doubtful, given you’ve just received a couple of new outfits a week before. Maybe it’s-
You disturb these wandering thoughts, tugging on his elbow to catch his attention. Looking at you and then following the direction of your raised hand, Neuvillette lifts his eyes to read the signboard above the shop you’ve stopped in front of.
“Palais des parfums”
“So,” you start when he gives you a questioning look, “it’s a perfumery, yes. And my suggestion is the following - let’s choose a scent we could wear together. Before you get concerned about it becoming too popular, because we will use it, this shop has an option of creating something personal. We can just pay a little more to make it exclusive.”
“The same…scent?” Your husband hums, touching his chin in thought. This actually sounds quite good - created by a human master, it is to be perceived by humans, and by utilizing one fragrance on you both it will be made clear that the two of you are spouses. Not to mention the newspaper that will spread the fact for others to know. “My dear, that’s a marvelous idea.”
“Really?” A wide smile lifts the corners of your lips.
“Really. I like it a lot,” he assures you with a smile of his own. “And I do favor the possibility of making perfume specifically for us. How did you know though, my love?”
“Have done my research. And already spoke to the vendor before. Furthermore, I think we can order the creation of two perfumes. One for every day, and one for grand events where our presence is required.”
“I see you’ve done your research indeed,” his words are soft and gaze is full of admiration. It’s so hard to resist and not kiss him right in the middle of the street, yet let your fingertips gently scratch his forearm.
“I promised my husband a solution, didn’t I? Couldn’t disappoint you.”
“You can never disappoint me, if anything you astonish me every single day of our lives. Shall we get inside?”
“We shall. Just please, beware, there are a lot of fragrances mixed in the air. I am afraid your nose will be assaulted just like mine was.”
“I can bear with it, beloved. I would be a coward of a husband, if I turned back after the amazing work my wife did,” your cheeks heat up at his praise and you lightly dig your covered nails into his arm.
“Oh, stop it, no need to be so sweet, I already understood your appreciation for this,” your eyes motion to his hand resting on the hilt of the cane and fingers joyfully tapping against the wood. With a barely audible chuckle, the man unhooks your arms, wrapping his around your waist, and steps forward, reaching for the handle.
A soft chime caresses his ears, as the maddening mix of scents hits him right in the nose. Glancing to the side to check on you, he notices how you instantly switch to breathing through your mouth and follows your example. It, thankfully, gets better.
The shop owner is not hard to find, a sweet lady in her late 50’s welcomes you with a glint in her eyes upon recognizing you, which soon is replaced by the look of surprise when she sees your companion.
“Good afternoon, Monsieur, Madame, how can I help you?”
“Good afternoon, Mrs Deschamps,” you greet her with a smile, “I came by two days ago, remember?”
“Yes, yes, how could I forget our dear Madame? You were curious about my perfumes and if I do personal orders.”
“Right! This is my husband,” you motion to the man still courteously holding your waist, who bows in greeting.
“Pleasure to be meeting you.”
“O-oh! How could I not know you and your husband? Your wedding was the event of the century!”
“Haha, you flatter us,” you chuckle merrily, covering your mouth. “We are here to put in an order. We’d love to buy a newly crafted perfume. However, we have a couple of conditions…”
It’s almost evening when the doorbells chime again, marking your departure. Once again walking side by side and with arms linked, Neuvillette feels an almost primordial satisfaction. These hours spent in that stuffy, smelly box of a shop will be absolutely worth it when your order is complete. While he does feel the inevitable approach of a runny nose after test-smelling way too many fragrances, and it doesn’t feel like he left work today at all, as he was handling legal documents relied to the exclusivity of the product, he doesn’t regret a single mora spent and to be spent in the future for this.
Soft thuds once again cut through the sounds of the city, and they are gently lulling your mind. Maybe your head hurts just a little bit, but it pales in comparison to the invested state of your husband and how much evident fun he had in meticulously choosing the right aromatic notes to your future shared scent.
You can’t wait to help him apply it every single morning to come and get the same treatment in return. This is going to be a new, hopefully a long-staying option to your usual scenting routine.
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taglist: @meimeimeirin
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prncessrindou · 1 month
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you’re all i need. ♱ // repost from wakashawty
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♱ CONTENT WARNING . . fem!reader, bonten timeline, smut, unprotected sex, backshots, creampie, shower sex, oral ( m receiving ), marijuana use, use of pet names.
♱ PAIRING . . ran x reader, rindou x reader and sanzu x reader ( separately )
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RAN HAITANI. ♱
your pouty lips wobbled as ran’s hips slammed into your ass cheeks. his palm pressing against your spine as you arched your back so perfectly for him. he can’t help but to slow his strokes, lean down and kiss your spine. “so pretty.. fuck.” he mumbles between kisses.
your fist squeeze the sheets for dear life as his cock slowly drags against your spongy walls, your pussy clenching around him so tightly. “ran, you’re s’deep..” you whimpered into the mattress, you swear you can feel him in your throat.
suddenly ran grabs a fistful of your hair, raising you up against his tatted chest and kisses your jaw and neck while he’s giving you the deadliest slowest strokes. “mmph— ran, m’gonna cum! m’cummin!” you sobbed, falling apart completely against him.
it’s not regularly that ran gets to see you like this.. working for the largest organization in the country isn’t for the weak. he’s rarely home and when he is, you’re melting in his hands exactly like you are now. he really needed this, needed you.
“hm, yeah? that’s it..” ran coos, smashing his lips against yours like a sudden wave, “cum on what’s yours, baby.”
RINDOU HAITANI. ♱
you’re a mess, completely spent as rindou has you pinned up against the marble wall of your shared shower. “rinnn— mmh, fuck!” you moaned, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as his strong arms hold your legs up.
squelching sounds along with the water drops from the shower are heard throughout the bathroom. rindou’s fat cock slides in and out of your sloppy wet pussy as luke warm water hits both of your bodies. your still so sensitive from your previous orgasms, but he just keeps going.. “shiiit— pretty.” rindou grunts in your ear, “yer’ fuckin’ pussy was made for me!” he says as his dick twitches, spraying his warm seed inside of your walls once more.
naked and wet.. fuck, you’re so beautiful like this and it’s all for him. he’d rather come home to see you like this every night because he knows he can bury his sins in you and you’ll accept them wholeheartedly.
you’re an angel sent from above just for him.
HARUCHIYO SANZU. ♱
“haru..” you whisper, stroking his hard length with your hands and giving his blushing tip subtle licks.
sanzu inhaled the smoke of his blunt.. looking at you with half lidded eyes as he lays back on your shared bed, watching your mouth get to work. he blows the smoke through his nostrils, “pretty ass lips, shit..” he mutters, putting the blunt back up against his lips.
your lips curled up into a smile before spitting on his dick and taking him whole. your head goes up and down while you massages his balls. sanzu puts his hand above your head, guiding you. “fuck, that’s it.. you’re taking me so well, babygirl.” he praises, throwing his head back against the headboard.
you released his cock with a pop, spit falling from your mouth and onto his cock, stroking it; giving off squelching sounds. you begin teasing the slit on his tip, you know it’s sensitive so your tongue swirls around it and over it. sanzu buckled his hips up, the sensation of your warm tongue getting too much for him.
“f-fuckk, baby.. shit!” he curses as he busts all on your pretty face. you happily lick it off around your lips with a smile, “you know, i could’ve swallowed it if you would’ve been a little more patient.” you said, your lashes batting up at him as you continue to stroke his dick with your hand.
he honestly doesn’t deserve you.. you’re too good for him, but he doesn’t know what he’d do without you. you are his high.. no marijuana or pills could ever get him as high as you do.
“fuck, babygirl.. you’re just so good to me.” he says as he takes another puff of his blunt.
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wondipity · 1 month
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mean
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ʚɞ heeseung x fem! reader ʚɞ (slight) angst, fluff ʚɞ warnings: none! ʚɞ
(a/n): @heeliopheelia this probably isn't what you wanted but thanks for the idea !!
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lee heeseung was scared. scared over how fucking cute you looked laying in bed wearing his flannel shirt. he knew he messed up today when he lashed out at you, yelling and calling you needy. it broke his heart watching you swallow back your tears and give him a shaky, obviously faked, smile.
so now he was going to do whatever to make it up to you.
“hi baby,” he said, laying down next to you and wrapping his arm around your waist. you just shrugged and pushed it off, causing a small crack in his heart. he hummed and placed his chin on your shoulder, watching you scowl and move away.
he watched, his gaze half lidded as you got out of the bed, grabbing a blanket and pillow before migrating to the living room, leaving him in bed with his arm over where you used to lay. now he really knew he messed up.
heeseung got out of the bed and followed you into the living room. there you were on the couch, huddled up in your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face in the dark light of the room. all heeseung wanted to do was jump on you and kiss you all over. but before he could do that he had to do something else first.
“hey,” he said, forcing a smile as he knelt down beneath you, placing his chin on the edge of the couch. you looked at him and the bambi eyes he was giving you before rolling your eyes and looking away, continuing your silent treatment. but from the corner of his eyes heeseung could see your lips twitch up into a soft smile.
“hey girl, what’s gotten you so upset?” heeseung said, watching as your eyes flickered to him. “well,” you began and heeseung’s heart raced as he got to hear your beautiful voice again. “my boyfriend has been a little bit mean to me today.” you said, smirking at heeseung’s wide eyes.
he gasped in faux surprise and gazed up at you, hiding the smile that was threatening to twitch through. “your boyfriend?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at your sad nod. “yeah, he’s being a real asshole nowadays and it’s breaking my heart.” you replied, bringing your hands up and making a gesture that signified your heart breaking.
heeseung felt like an asshole but still couldn’t hold back the smile that you brought to his face. “my he seems like a real jerk,” he said, grinning ear to ear. your eyebrows furrowed together as you gently slapped heeseung’s arm.
“hey!” you said in fake anger. “don’t insult my boyfriend like that, only i’m allowed to!” heeseung’s cheeks ached from smiling at how cute you were being. but he still needed to apologize.
“baby,” he said, standing up to loom over you. you hummed and closed your eyes, nestling your cheek into his palm as he cupped your face. “i’m sorry baby,” heeseung breathed, placing a featherlight kiss on your forehead. “i was stressed out and tired and shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that.”
you smile up at him and kiss his thumb. “it’s all good seungie, sorry for ignoring you.” heeseung couldn’t have cared less about that as he smiled, jumping into your arms and nuzzling his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses there.
“i love you, my pretty baby,” he said, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of the blanket that you were currently throwing around his tall frame. “i love you too,” you whispered into his ear, leaving a soft kiss there as you wrapped your arms around him.
“even if you are a little mean sometimes-”
“hey i said sorry!”
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munson-blurbs · 3 months
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Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader
Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?
Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc WC: 1.6k A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!
Divider credit to @saradika
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Eddie’s looking at her again.
You can’t blame him; he’d be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isn’t imagining sweeping her off of her feet–
“Do you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?”
Almost instinctively, Dustin’s eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. “She and Jason, like, just broke up.” 
This information doesn’t deter Eddie in the slightest. “Exactly. She’s probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentine’s Day. I could be her…Freak in Shining Armor.” He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, “You’re a girl. What do you think?”
The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.
With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. “If you like her, you should go for it.”
That’s all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, “All right, I’m doin’ it.”
Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.
“He’s an idiot,” he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. “He’ll figure it out one day, but you shouldn’t sit around waiting for it to happen.”
Logic tells you that he’s right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when he’s one of your closest friends.
Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this week’s campaign.
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Chrissy received Eddie’s candy gram on Valentine’s Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver. 
“Of course she went back to him,” Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. “Am I gonna be alone forever?”
“Probably.” You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. “Maybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.”
He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. “She told me she ‘appreciates my friendship.’” He shakes his head. “Fucking humiliating.”
The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period. 
The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books. 
Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie. 
And no one wanted you. 
A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. “We’re in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m fine.”
He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie. 
Jeff takes a deep breath. “Look, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants.”
“Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,” you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers. 
“No…I mean, yeah. But that’s because she’s, like, safe.”
You scoff. “Asking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?” 
“Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.” Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. “She’s not part of our group, so he doesn’t have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, she’s nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. I’m sure she didn’t tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he would’ve announced it to the whole school by now.”
You nod in reluctant agreement. 
“And speaking of that jackass,” Jeff continues, “how many times have they broken up and gotten back together?” 
“Too many to count.” Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when you’re stuck at home with a fever. 
“Exactly.” Jeff exhales. “Chrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now he’s head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.”
Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. “I don’t think he cares about being rejected by me.”
He mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together. 
Thank God you don’t actually have a test today; you wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.
You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?
Uneasiness builds within you until it’s impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.
Eddie–
I’m sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but you’ll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.
You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentine’s Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but it’ll do.
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Eddie’s waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.
“Who is he?” Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. “This mystery guy who doesn’t want you. Who is he?”
“No one. It’s fine,” you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. “It was just to let you know that you’re not alone in this, okay?”
He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. “Nah, not okay. I’ve gotta kick his ass.” He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.
“Well, you can’t.”
“And why not?” Eddie scoffs. “I know I’m scrawny, but I’m pretty damn scr–”
“Because you’d be kicking your own ass!” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what you’ve said. “I’m sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.”
You start to leave, but you’re tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. “Follow me,” he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. “Repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you right.”
“You’re the guy who doesn’t want me,” you manage through the lump in your throat, “and it’s okay, because we can’t help who we like and who we don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything like that.” 
You’re rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.
Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. “Do you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?”
You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.
“Yeah, I tried to keep it that way,” he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that we’d get to know each other here and then I’d ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. So…there ya have it.” He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.
“And now you like Chrissy.” Out with the old, in with the new.
Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. “Not the way I like you,” he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. “Not even close.”
You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that he’ll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.
The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the club’s musings.
“Took them long enough.”
“Seriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.”
“Crap, do you think they can hear us?”  
“Yeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,” Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.
“Now, where were we?”
--
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neckromantics · 2 months
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Waking up to find that Astarion is missing after going out for a hunt the night before. Going on a search for him, only to find him sprawled out in the grass somewhere just outside of camp, basking in the warmth of the sun.
He came out of his tent at dawn to greet the sunlight and just dropped into trance after lying down to feel it. Might have even fallen asleep– a rather rare thing for elves to do at his age, even rarer for a vampire. He has one arm slung over his face to shield his eyes, the other folded to rest a hand against the soft, pale skin of his bare chest.
He looks so peaceful that you would absolutely hate to disturb him. Would definitely threaten the well-being of anyone else who dared to. So you don't.
You just sit a little off to the side (like a bit of a creep) and watch. Watch the rise and fall of his belly as he pulls in unneeded, soft breaths to take in the scent of the morning air. Watch as his head lulls to the side, letting you catch the slightest glimpse of one of his eyes. Pale lashes contrast with the rosy pink of his cheeks. It's a flush that spreads over the bridge of his nose, too. Down his neck. All the way to the points of his ears. He looks warm to the touch.
Your hands twitch at your sides. Breath catches in your throat at how ethereal your love is. He's beautiful to you always, of course, but there's something especially sweet about seeing him like this. Warm. Happy. The most relaxed you've ever seen him.
You wait there with him until he wakes. Until the commotion of the others in camp as they get ready for the day becomes loud enough for him to stir. His lips, pouty from slumber, smacking lightly as his arms reach out above him, back forming an arch as he stretches until his spine gives a nice crack. His little moan of satisfaction has your own cheeks going warm, and even warmer still as he catches your scent on his next inhale and turns to look at you.
Eyes glassy. Lids heavy. He gives two, hypnotizingly slow blinks as he takes in your form. Up and down. Studying you just as much as you were him only moments before.
There's this smile that comes just before he slips into that usual smirk of his. A genuine, awfully content little thing. The sight of which you will be replaying in your head an endless amount of times, perhaps for the rest of your life.
You can't even hear his comment on just how creepy it is for you to be watching him sleep because you're too busy trying not to swoon.
And the sound of his voice when he's just woken? Forget about it.
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coryosbaby · 3 months
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i need more felix shit from u 😣😣
—Jealous Girl !
Fandom: ‘Saltburn’
Pairing: Felix Catton x fem! Best friend! Reader (also minor mentions of: Oliver quick x fem! Reader)
Synopsis: Tension and jealousy finally come to a head after you see your best friend Felix fucking another girl.
Content warning . Drug & alcohol use, watching without permission? possessiveness, friends to lovers with slight angst, dark! Ish reader // degradation & praise, facefucking, pnv, size kink, choking, breeding, mean! dom! Felix
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If you ever explain how your best friend usually treats you, it can only be summed up into one word: gentle.
He treats you like glass. A beautiful, priceless artifact that requires great care. He pays for everything you own— your dresses, handbags, shoes. Even where you live, the infamous Saltburn estate. Every time he speaks to you, it’s like he’s speaking to a pet— sweet, gentle, but commanding all at once. In his eyes, you’re an innocent angel…or, as he puts it, a sweet bunny.
And you fucking hate it.
It doesn’t bother you in the sense that Felix cares for you; quite the contrary, in fact. You like his warmth, how protective he is, how sweet and kind he can be.
But he treats you too kindly. Too much like his other friends, too much like his sister, too much like a companion.
Not enough like a lover.
It seems that he’s completely oblivious to your longing stares, the way you follow him around and practically worship the ground he walks on. He never seems to grasp why you sit in his lap at parties, squirming around just a little too much, or why you cuddle up to him in his room when you’ve had a nightmare in your skimpy nightdress. He stares off into a space between and kisses girls right in front of you.
You want him to treat you like the sluts he brings home.
The whispers of how the boy fucks is something you’ve grown accustomed to. The girls you had become acquainted with who had slept with him, giggling to you about how much of a good lay he was. How mean, how brutal he was. How big he was.
‘This doesn’t bother you, does it? God, I know it’s weird because he’s your best friend ‘n all, but I don’t understand why you haven’t done him yet. I would’ve thought… y’know, given how close you two are...’
It makes you sick, knowing he does it to other girls and not you.
And now, sitting on a couch at one of Felix’s infamous Saltburn parties, you watch as he does it once again.
Your nose slides across the glass table in front of you. Two people sit beside you, making friendly conversation, but you can’t focus on them. Your nose is filled to the brim with glittery white powder as you stare at Felix’s new side piece through your faux lashes.
He’s got her in his lap, this girl. Olivia is her name, or something like that. You don’t like her. She’s too needy, clinging onto him a little too much for just a simple hookup. His hand grabs her hip as she presses kisses to his neck. He’s laughing, splayed across the leather couch across from you, as she whispers dirty phrases into his ear. You can tell that that’s what she’s doing because she’s grinding against him like a bitch in heat. It makes you stomach churn.
“(Y/N!)”
Your head looks up, and Farleigh stands in front of you. You give him a smile, though it’s mostly fake. You love him, but you can’t stop thinking about Felix.
Felix and her.
Farleigh chats with you about some guy he’s about to go and hook up with, telling you his whereabouts as a safety precaution. You nod to him as he leaves.
Felix has his hand up her skirt, now. He’s gripping her ass and rocking up into her clothed cunt.
You can’t look any longer.
You stumble to your feet, the room spinning a bit before turning to normal. An intoxicated kind of giddiness flows through you, and you brush past the couch and try to get Felix off your mind. You spot one of his new companions— Oliver. He’s quite handsome, you think. A little weird, a little quiet, but he’ll do for sure.
It isn’t long before you’ve got him in between your thighs in an empty corridor, a buzz flowing from your toes up to the crown of your head as he thrusts his tongue mercilessly into your drenched heat. He draws circles into your clit and laps at you like he’s parched. Oh, he’s good. Practiced, precise. He loves to please.
But he isn’t Felix.
Although Oliver’s tongue is skilled, it isn’t necessarily that that gets you to your peak. When you cum, you think of a familiar brunette with an eyebrow piercing, a wide smile, and dreamy eyes.
You let Oliver fuck you against the wall, after that.
It feels good. He’s big, rough, mean. Just how you like it.
Just how you want Felix to be.
You decide not to return to the party.
Your bare feet pad against the tiles of the Saltburn estate, your heels in your hand . The hallway is empty, save for one or two stragglers. No one really comes to this side of the house. You’re attempting to walk— or in this case, stumble— to your room. But everything is blurry, your feet dancing, and—
Shit, is this even your hallway?
You don’t know, really. You’re drunk, high. You don’t give a shit.
Your fingers are dancing across the walls, admiring the intricate paintings placed on each one. You lick your lips and taste a tequila shot, your dress askew. Fuck it.
You’re admiring The Fallen Angel by Alexandra Cabanel when you hear them.
It starts out slow— a deep, guttural moan, from the door to your left. It translates into a familiar voice, growling.
“What?” It teases. “Is my cock too much for you? Too big, huh?”
And then another sound comes through the thin walls and slightly opened door. A high pitched whine, pleading.
“Felix! Please, it feels so good.”
Your brows furrow. Drunken confusion. You silently creep up to the door, wondering. Your eyes peek through at the scene.
The color drains from your face.
Of course it’s Felix. Felix and her.
He’s got her bent over an expensive wood table. He’s pulling her hair, pressing his hips into her with every push and pull. She’s got her mouth open as her eyes roll back in ecstasy, and her cunt swallows him whole.
Your shoes drop to the ground in utter shock.
Now that seems to grab the pair’s attention. Felix looks back, and his eyes catch your dilated ones. He curses, slipping out of her and trying to conceal himself as he pulls his pants up. The girl catches sight of you, too, and she’s instantly pulling down her top and throwing her clothes on.
“Christ, Bunny!” Felix exclaims, flushed. “The fuck are you doing all the way over here?”
Your bottom lip wobbles, but you won’t cry. Not in front of him. Not in front of his whore.
You turn before you even know what you’re doing, and you scurry away from the scene with tears running hotly down your cheeks.
So much for parties.
When you wake in the morning, you’ve got a pounding headache and you’re sprawled out on your bed.
Your body aches, and you whine as you turn over on your side. The memories of last night flood back into your psyche, and you want to throw up. Of course the one thing you don’t want to remember is buried so prominently into your skull that it’s the first thing you think about.
It’s not like Felix hasn’t fucked anyone before. But seeing it, actually watching him do it to another girl, makes you sick. You don’t know how you’re going to look him in the eye at breakfast.
You stand up on wobbly legs. You make your way to the bathroom, throw your guts up at least twice, and then brush your teeth. A warm shower calms you down, though your head still hurts. You’ll have to take some ibuprofen later.
You make your way to the dining room in a juicy tracksuit and brown ugg boots. You slide a pair of sunnies on your face to protect you from the blinding sun, letting out a pained moan when it shines through the large stain glass window.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Farleigh coos from the table. You give him the middle finger before plopping down in a seat beside Oliver. His eyes scan over you, taking in your appearance. His knee bumps against yours, and he whispers a quiet ‘good morning’ to you.
God, he’s a clingy little shit, isn’t he?
Felix’s eyes follow your every move. Usually you sit next to him in the mornings, but as of right now, why bother? The closer to get to him, the more vivid the image of him fucking her comes into your mind.
You swallow down a few pieces of toast and some orange juice. Elsbeth is talking about a party reserved for Oliver for his birthday, one that they will host this weekend. How absolutely and utterly fan-fucking-tastic.
Oh, well. You’ll be able to dress up, at least. That’ll probably be the best part.
You ignore Felix for the entirety of the day. There’s still that fire coiling in your gut everytime you look at him, that hot bubble of rage and jealousy. Oliver looks up at you through long eyelashes during a game of tennis, and you find the way to satiate that heat.
It’s an awful idea. A terrible, mean, despicable idea.
You knew Felix would be out. It was around five pm— the time when he usually begins coming back to the house from his afternoon run. He would be back in twenty to thirty minutes.
“You’re incredibly fucked. Do you know that?”
Oliver whispers it huskily, pleased, as you push him down on a set of familiar satin sheets. You smirk, your cunt grinding down onto him.
“And you’re not?”
He grunts as you unbutton his shirt. You kiss down his chest, soon getting rid of your bra and top. You rock back on him slowly, teasing. His hand moves around to grope your ass, but you grab ahold of his wrist.
“Are you going to behave?”
A smirk plays on his lips. You want to slap it off of him.
“No.”
You snake your hand down to his bulge, giving it a considerable squeeze. He lets out a tiny gasp, biting his lower lip.
“What was that?” You say, almost threatening.
He gulps. He looks almost cute with the blush dusting across his face.
“Yes.” he whispers. You ghost your fingers over his waistband.
“What was that?”
“Yes, I’ll behave.”
He hisses it, and you’re pleased.
“Good boy.”
And then when he’s inside you, you bounce on him like your life depends on it. You look up above Felix’s bed, at the framed picture of you and him. He had hung it up, and for that you’re thankful. You concentrate on the way photo Felix’s fingers tightly grip a shot glass. Oliver lets out tiny whines as you clench around his cock, and you grind your clit against the base of him. You know that Felix catches you both when you look back at the slightly cracked door and see him there— blue headband, muscle tee and shorts. When you lock eyes, he moves away from the door and down the hall with a clenched jaw and cheeks blooming red.
The days pass from one into three, and soon it’s Oliver’s birthday. Felix has avoided you, much to your dismay. You thought he would give in sooner. If you didn’t know any better, you would think that he was trying to pretend the situation didn’t happen altogether. But the hard stare he gives you whenever he sees you, the clenching of his hands, and the plain ignorance of your presence gives him away.
You’ve decided to dress as a Bunny for Oliver’s infamous costume party. Your favorite animal, but also another way to piss Felix off. Wearing a pink bodysuit, sparkly fishnets, and pink bunny ears, you make your way into the party beside Venetia, who’s ranting about her current situationship with some girl she met at a club. Scanning the crowd, you take notice of Felix from across the room. Angel wings sit on his shoulders, his eyes lined with a black eye pencil. He’s wearing a white wifebeater.
You go to the bar and take a few shots to stifle your nerves. Felix’s eyes follow you as you grab a bottle from the bartender and make your way outside.
It isn’t long before you’re absolutely plastered. Giggling to yourself, you make your way towards the hedge maze in the backyard. Felix’s voice, the one he hasn’t used to talk to you directly for a few days, interrupts your diddle daddling.
“We need to talk.”
You keep walking, him trailing behind you.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Felix.”
His big hand grabbing your arm and spinning you around to look at him surprises you. He glares.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
You back away, winding through the labyrinth of bushes. Felix groans as you begin to skip around each corner.
“This isn’t a game, y’know!” He calls, as he tries his best to keep up with you. It isn’t long before you’re both standing in the middle of the maze. The stone statue overpowers the both of your bodies as it leers down in a violent pose. You smile crookedly when Felix stalks over to you, making a beeline for the other side of the statue. It doesn’t seem to be funny to him.
He catches you when you least expect it, grabbing you by the shoulders.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, (Y/N)?!”
He yells it, infuriated, deep vocal cords strumming. It makes you jump. He never calls you by your real name.
He purses his lips, anger evident on his face as you smile up at him still.
“‘M jus’ having fun, Fel. Whats wrong with that?”
“What’s— what’s wrong with—“ he laughs, dry and humorless, as he pushes you away from him. “Whats wrong is that you fucked my friend in my room! What the hell went through your head?!“
You clench your teeth.
“I don’t know, Felix,” you utter sarcastically. “I really don’t know. Call it irritational horniness. But tell me. Are you mad? For once, once in your fucking life, are you mad?”
“Of course I’m mad!” he seethes, as if it’s obvious. “But why do you want that? What prompted this?”
You avert from his piercing gaze, turning your back on him. Your cheeks are flaring with heat from how he’s treating you, your inner thighs wet and sticky.
God, this is so wrong.
“I think you know.”
Genuinely confused, Felix throws up his hands. He’s exasperated.
“No, I don’t. I don’t, (Y/N), so tell me. Tell me the damn truth!”
“The truth?” You say, finally. “‘S that what you want?”
You whirl around, anger finally taking over in your usually pliant, doe eyes.
“The truth, Felix, is that you treat me like a kid!” You yell. Your voice cracks, and you hate it. “You treat me like a fucking child! Like your friend! Like a… like a—“
Your breath heaves, and you try to find the words you’re looking for. Felix looks at you, his brows furrowed.
You can’t open your mouth anymore, too distraught, too open. You’re saying all the things you promised you’d keep buried deep inside you.
Felix takes a step forward. You take a step back. Your lower back hits the stone statue, and you wince at the way it digs into your skin.
“What are you saying?” He asks, careful with his words. You laugh bitterly in his face— at least, as close as you can get to his face. He towers over you like a giant.
“I’m saying that after all this time, after all these years, I thought you’d notice how badly I want you. But clearly not, with the way I caught you fucking that cunt last weekend.”
The words finally come out— slurred because of your drunkenness, dry because you’ve given up. You’ve given up on Felix, on the possibility of him ever returning the feelings you’ve always had for him. You’ve given up on your friendship, on his kindness. You don’t want it anymore. Why continue this if it’s only going to hurt you?
The boy is stunned into silence for a mere moment.
“What?”
You turn away from his stare, looking down at the ground.
“You heard me, Felix.”
His eyes follow your lips, nose, eyes. His lips part ever so slightly, and his eyes are so dark that they’re almost black as realization settles over him.
“So that’s what you want?”
It comes out hushed, like a secret. His breath is hot against your lips as he leans in close to you.
“All this time you’ve been acting like this.. all because you want me to fuck you? Because you’re jealous?”
You stare up at him in a daze, silent. Your cheeks flare with embarrassment. You jump when Felix lets out a chuckle, something grating and deep, that permeates your bones and worms its way inside your guts.
“God, you’re sick.”
He scoffs, moving forward on his long legs. His big hand wraps itself around your hair and tugs. You let out a gasp as he tilts your head back, the burn of your scalp making your legs clench together.
“You’ve been torturing me for weeks—“ he spits, yanking at the roots of your hair even harder, and you let out a squeak. “— Not speaking to me, making me question what I could’ve possibly done wrong, fucking my friend in my bed, all because you want to me treat you like some whore?“
Your mouth gapes open, and you’re frozen like a deer in headlights as Felix finally gives you what you want. He continues to speak, but not before his knee is coming up to rub in between your thighs. It’s such a sudden movement, so aggressive, that your legs buckle and you grab onto his shoulders for purchase. His hands splay across your hips, moving you in tandem across the fabric of his jeans.
“Don’t worry.” He says. “You’ll never have to worry about that again.”
“Felix—” you start, but his hand slapping you clear across the face makes you lose all words. Your cheek flares with heat from his hand coming down on it, and you grasp the red mark in pain.
“Was he good?” he growls, grabbing the hand touching your face and putting it in his much larger one. He places it over his crotch, and you feel the giant bulge against the fabric. “Was he as big as me? Did he fuck you the way you thought I would?”
You shake, stuttering on every phrase in your vocabulary. Felix grinds into your hand.
“You think that I don’t want you like this?”
It comes out strained, tortured. Like it’s painful for you to even assume that. Your mouth waters at the feeling of his girth underneath your palm.
“I’ve never been this hard for anyone,” he breathes. “I jerked my cock every night when you were in my bed because I thought it was the closest I could get to you. I fucking…God, do you even know what you do me?“
He works his thigh against your pussy, and you whine desperately as you pull away from his assault on you. You kiss your way down his chest, worship his body, lave your tongue over the skin peeking out from his unbuttoned shirt as you sink down to your knees. Your hands fumble with his belt, waiting for the moment when his cock will be released and you’ll finally get what you’ve been begging for. He grunts, tilting his head as he watches you desperately fumble with the leather around his waist.
“Already trying to suck me off? You’re even more pathetic than I thought.”
You press your mouth against his thigh and practically drool at his words. He looks down at you like a God, golden angel wings splaying out in the moonlight for you to gape at. How ironic it is, that he decided to wear this costume tonight.
“All for you, Felix,” you say, pulling his cock out of the confines of his jeans. You gape at his impressive length.
“That’s right,” he agrees, his thumb brushing over your lip. “Now put me in your mouth. Show me how much of a fucking slut you are.”
You do as you’re told, tongue lolling out to lick a stripe up his shaft. He clenches his jaw, watching as you hold eye contact with him when you take his dick into the warm, wet confines of your mouth. His hand wraps around the nape of your neck and he pushes you down onto him. Choking, your nose hits the soft bed of pubic hair trimmed neatly at his base. Your eyes roll back as he begins to fuck your throat, pleasure and electricity flowing through your head and down to your toes. The corners of your mouth burn as he stretches out your mouth.
“Didn’t know you could take dick so good,” Felix muses, his balls slapping against your chin. “If I would’ve known how badly you wanted this, I would’ve slid my cock inside you the night you caught me with that girl.”
That girl. He can’t even remember her name. It satisfies something dark that’s been blooming in you since you saw him sticking his dick where it didn’t belong.
You moan around him, spit trailing down your neck as you tongue at his slit. Your hands grip his big, meaty thighs, and it occurs to you just how strong he is. He could break you, rip you apart piece by piece, and you couldn’t do anything about it. The thought arouses you to no end.
“You pissed me off so fuckin’ much that night, y’know that?” He rambles, his thighs squeezing the sides of your face. He’s practically trapping you against his cock, and you try your hardest to breathe through your nose but you can feel your vision blurring at the edges. “You caught me in the middle of it, didn’t even say sorry. Didn’t help me finish. You’re a sick little bitch for watching me fuck her. I bet you touched yourself after that, didn’t you? Touched your little cunt thinking about the way I used her?”
You whimper around him, your fingers attempting to move down and rub against your clit. But Felix lets out a sound in the back of his throat and kicks your hand away.
“Don’t. You don’t get to cum tonight. You put your hands on me, or you don’t put them on anything at all.”
Your hands wrap around the back of his thighs, then, as you hollow your cheeks around him. You’ll do anything he demands you to.
After a long moment of being face fucked with only a few breathing breaks in between, your throat is scratchy and raw. Felix yanks you off of him, and you wheeze as you’re thrown to the ground, your hand going to your throat as your eyes drip with citrine tears. Felix stands for a moment to let you catch your breath. He’s still your best friend, after all— he cares about your well being, as angry as he is right now.
It isn’t long, however, before he’s grabbing you up by your elbow and bending you over the marble statue. Your cheek lands on the cold stone, the crotch of your bodysuit is ripped open, exposing your lace panties and the fat globes of your ass. You stick yourself out for him, moaning as he rips your underwear off of you and throws it on the ground. He spreads your legs and coos at your dripping cunt.
“Oh, look at that,” his fingers go to either side of your pussy lips, spreading them apart and revealing your teeny tiny hole. “It’s clenching s’much, isn’t it, sweetheart? It’s all swollen ‘n red. It’s been so worked up all night, I bet.”
“Felix,” you cry, a blubbering mess. “Please.”
He chuckles, rubbing the tip of his finger against your clit. You quiver underneath his touch, gasping when his aching cockhead suddenly brushes up against your entrance.
“I want to know how badly you want me. Tell me, darling. Tell me how pathetic you are.”
“I want it,” your voice comes out small, weak. “I want you to fuck me until I can’t feel my legs. Wan’ you to stretch me out on your fat cock, Felix. Give it t’me, pleasepleaseplease…”
He lets out a dreamy sigh, feeling you trying to clench around the tip of his cock, trying to suck him in. Your head is fuzzy, your cunt throbbing. You need him more than you need air.
“Okay,” he lets out, whispering. It’s an oddly gentle tone, and you know it’s because this situation could change the outcome of your friendship forever. “Okay, sweetheart.”
He pushes forward, the fat tip of his cock popping into your entrance, and you let out a mewl. Felix is big, and not just in his height or his shoulders. He stretches you so deliciously to the point where it’s borderline painful.
“Oh my god,” he grits his teeth, his head tipping back. “God, you’re a tight little thing. So tiny..”
You know he’s talking to your pussy now, drunk off the way you’re wrapping around his shaft. He moves slow, gentle strokes against your aching pussy, his fingers digging bruises into your hips as he struggles to contain himself.
Your cheek is smushed against the hard surface below you, but that doesn’t stop you from speaking.
“It’s okay,” you assure him, moaning. “Destroy me, rip me apart.. I don’t care, Felix.”
He moans along with you, a sound of pure, unleashed pleasure. His hips speed up, and he fucks into your cunt with reckless abandon as your nails dig into the marble below you. His cock is so deep that you can almost feel him in your throat.
He angles at a spot inside that has you keening, your hips fucking back onto him as he rams into you. Your nails scrape against the statue, tears running down your cheeks.
“Felix,” you moan out, but it’s hard to speak as the breath is being knocked out of you.
“Mmm,” he hums, grabbing your hips. “‘M gonna cum. ‘M gonna cum in your sweet little pussy.”
“Please,” you gasp. “Please, fill me up, fill up my pussy!”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” His arms lift your body up, and his biceps curl around your neck. Your eyes widen as he tightens his grip, placing you in a chokehold underneath him. His hips slap against yours, his steady words bordering on a whine. “You want me to cum inside you? Get you all pregnant and full? Mmm, that’d be a pretty sight, wouldn’t it…”
You clench down on him. He growls, a sigh of your name tumbling out of his mouth. His hips stutter. And with one last harsh thrust, he’s cumming. His warmth fills you to the brim and spills over the cusp as he fucks into you, teeth scraping against your neck as he bites down and leaves a mark. Sweat drips drown your temple, small pants escaping your lips as you try to swallow oxygen into your lungs. Felix’s arms are still wrapped around you neck, but they aren’t wrapped tight enough to cut off your air completely.
Definitely tight enough to bruise, though.
He slows, after a few more moments. You still grind onto his overstimulated cock, and he squeezes your throat in warning.
“What did I tell you? You don’t get to cum tonight.”
Your face becomes blotchy with tears, and you sob as he pulls out of you. His cum spills down onto the concrete floor, your pussy gushing with his seed, and you want to scream.
“But Felix,” you babble, grabbing onto his arm as he tucks himself back into his pants. “No, baby, please—“
“This is what you wanted,” he replies, nonchalant, as if he didn’t just fuck your brains out. His glances down at the creamy spend that had fallen out of you and onto the ground. Grabbing you by your hair, he pushes you down onto your knees. He gestures to his cum, licking his lips.
“Now clean that up,” he demands. “Wouldn’t want to leave a mess, would we?”
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