#everyone is described as pale and pretty and delicate | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

belphegorey · 3 days

Text

⌜sapphires, mammon⌟ his little human looked so pretty in gold ships ⎯⎯ mammon x fem!reader tropes ⎯⎯ vaginal sex, blushing mammon, dick piercing, scenting, size kink, praise, marking, pact marks, lots of greed

Gold. It dropped down your skin in silken cloth, caressing your body in the thin layer and making you shimmer. Necklaces and bracelets glittered like the finest of treasure on your body. Earrings dangled with more carats than anyone could afford.

The tantalising speck in your eye reflected the same ore. Your wicked smirk taunted him in more and more of the golden decadence you were encased in. The finest of prizes. The treasure all pirates would hunt for, the gift all people would die for, the only thing Mammon would kill for.

Rings hung on your fingers. Rubies, emeralds and diamonds galore. The jewel within the golden earrings, he realised, were perfect sapphires. His chest grew tight as they glittered under the chandeliers. “ Your eyes ,” you had whispered them on your first day in the Devildom, just after Mammon had given you his completely grand tour of the House of Lamentation, “ they’re so blue .”

Mammon could still recall his scoff. You had been so strange. Sure, he had only listened to you for an hour by that point, but he had decided you were not worth his valuable time. Most of his mind had been occupied by whether or not his stocks had lowered during the day. “ They are not blue ,” it had felt like an insult to him at the time. He hadn’t even acknowledged the sheer intrigue upon your beautifully shining face — whereas it was all Mammon could think of now, “ they are like… sapphires. Sapphires and gold. ”

You had nodded with a faint little smile. It was the first smile he had seen of yours. Mammon could describe each expression on your face, and the variety of your grins in great detail, but that one was the most valuable in his mind. Rare, special, and one you had shown him first. “ Sapphires and gold .” Yet again, his mind was occupied with profit, including whether or not he could find a way to sell you as an experiment to Solomon, but even then Mammon had felt pride seeing your soft expression just for him. The first time he had felt something positive toward you, a blissful premonition of your shared future. “ A beautiful combination .”

His tongue tied into knots. It was the worst torture he could have ever endured. Any punishment from Lucifer paled in comparison as he watched you descend into the room with the same small smile on your face. His skin burned hot and the rings around his fingers, one of which you had given him as a gift, did nothing to cool his fire. All his brothers stood around him, watching and praising your every movement, he was sure that Beelzebub had slipped drool onto the floor beneath them. Mammon scrunched his nose to ignore the stabbing in his spine.

His. It was what fuelled him. Greed was what flowed in his veins and blossomed in his throat. You were his. You dressed up in the finest of materials for him . You wore sapphire earrings for him . The little smile on your face was only for him . His brothers were not who you were looking for. They were not the ones who protected you and listened to your every story.

“You look darling, my love,” Asmo moved forward in a movement similar to that of a dance. His steps were delicate and smooth as he whisked you away from Mammon’s eyes. You had gone with him like a true ballerina, performing with your typical delicateness and respect. Mammon was sure that he could hear the growing orchestra of the human ballet play out in his head. Did that make him Hilarion to your Gisele? His fingers twitched as he noticed Diavolo and Barabatos greet you with smiles.

Everyone was watching you. Had you been anyone else Mammon would say it was because of the scarcity in your outfit. He knew better. You were the treasure that sparkled in eyes. No jewel, no car, not even his precious Goldie, were comparable to you. You were his human. He was your demon. Your first demon.

Mammon would not allow himself to just watch you be flaunted by his brother. He jumped to action, the orchestra in his mind crescendoed to a glorious triumph, and Mammon made his way across the room. Your golden dress and the sparkling smile guided him forward, the itching in his back of wins that threatened to burst through fuelled him further. Your eyes, lit brighter than the chandeliers above you, found him and your smile returned. Big, toothy, mischevious. The hand weighed down in glorious rings ran softly against your hip, the jewels catching the light gloriously.

Temptress. You were no worse than one of Asmodeus’ succubi. Mammon loved it. Your tantalising gaze licked at his greedy veins and pressed him to act further. To let loose. To properly remind everyone who you were meant for.

“I’m glad you could make it, Mammon!” Diavolo’s regular grin greeted him while Barbotos stood to his left, arms folded in the usual servant manner. Both of them stared into his body, Mammon could feel the eyes as they fell to the flood of green surging off his soulless body. He attempted a smile to placate the royal before him, but your sparkling person kept poking at the corner of his eye. It felt just wrong to look away from you, especially when the hungry gaze of all the higher demons in the Devildom were staring right at you. “Lucifer had said you would be working tonight.”

He had never been so lucky in his life. It was his own curse to step with misfortune haunting his shadow. His modelling job would always run overtime and Mammon would be left hanging from the roof tied in electric cables as punishment for his tardiness. But not that day. Not only did it finish early, a feat in itself, but Mammon was allowed to witness you in all golden glory. “I was gonna, yeah, but we finished early so i’m able to come and celebrate ya.”

He felt your hand before he properly realised you had moved to stand right beside him. Your touch was feathery, slowly running across his back to tug on the belt loop along his hip. The fire beneath his skin was red hot, your touch was the ice he needed to cool down. A shudder ran down Mammon’s spine as you leaned into him, he felt the fire rise on his cheeks at the stance. So blatant, so obvious, it showed that he was dangled on your arm. Him. No one else.

“But,” you sighed and finished your demonus with a low gaze on the floor. One of the fingers you had caught around his belt loop reached for his hand, linking his finger to yours. His lips were sealed tight as the blushed tortured his physique, “it is a shame but I need to steal Mammon for the night. You won’t mind if we leave a bit early, right?”

Diavolo waved off your worry with a hearty grin, moving with your lie though Mammon (and he was sure you as well) knew that he caught your lie easily. “So long as you come over for afternoon tea with Barbatos and I this week, it will be fine.”

“Of course,” you grinned with a wickedness he could only compared to Satan, though that in itself was like a cat. Your chest pressed into his arm as your grin only grew further. “Should I bring over some cakes?”

It was Barbatos who answered the question; with only a simple shake of his head. “That is unnecessary. I will make sure to prepare both yours and the Young Lord’s favourites for our tea.”

“Delightful! I’ll see you both then,” you bid them both a sweet goodbye with a wave of your fingers. Mammon felt himself stuck in a frozen manner as you pulled him away to the door of the castle. All he could register was the cooling touch of your hand holding his own and the sparkling treasure gracing your body.

Mammon was not one for sharing. He never shared his favourite meals. He never shared his time with you. And he certainly did not share his possessions. The gold bars he kept hidden in his safe, the necklaces and bracelets he never intended to wear and Goldie herself were only meant for him. Yet, he needed to see you dressed in his finest possessions.

It sounded glorious. His bed covered in cash and jewels, with his most important treasure laid in the centre, covered in the jewellery he hoarded and nothing else. Just waiting for him to touch. Begging for him. Needing him.

Your visage for the night’s gala was just a little treat for the reality of his dream.

“Where are ya takin’ me?” He tugged on your joined hands in resistance and grimaced as the collar of his suit choked on him. Mammon wanted nothing more than to follow your every step, but his own attitude had to intervene. The door of the castle opened and granted Mammon a warm breeze through the Devildom night. The moons were tall in the dark sky, shining bright enough to make your jewellery glitter. “Lucifer is gonna punish us. Nah, he is gonna punish me and then say I took ya myself.”

You giggled and he felt his tongue tie together. He loved that noise, more than when the slots would make that fantastic winning chime. “I just had a thought,” you stopped walking and turned around to smile at him. His hand was still caught in yours, and you pulled him in so that your chest pressed together. “Everyone is with Diavolo, so we have the house to ourselves…”

Evil temptress. You were pure evil! Mammon groaned and hid behind his free hand, the blush burning red on his cheeks. “You can’t say that kinda stuff,” he whined into his palm, and your resounding giggle only made him whine louder. It was wicked and you knew it! Maybe you really were part succubi. “It’ll gimme ideas.”

You moved his hand from his face, lips dangerously close to touching him. Mammon was frozen once again. Does he do it. Does he grant himself the kiss he had dreamed of? He needed it, more than he needed the newest 666 Lexura (on Lucifer’s dime) but he couldn’t if you weren’t wanting it. Mammon would wait for an eternity for you. “And if I want you to have those ideas?”

From then on, it was Mammon who led you to the House of Lamentation. The searing burn of his skin was nothing to the icy touch you offered, he needed it all over his body. Your hand was tightly gripped in the veiny grasp of his fist, but you no made no cries.

There was only gleeful laughter as you ran along beside him. Mammon didn’t allow himself the pleasure of moaning over your beautiful laugh, not when he knew what was awaiting him inside the large doors it the house. As much as he did love your laugh, he was just dying to hear your moans instead.

“I don’t think I’ve seen you look so determined,” you whispered it into his ears as he fumbled with the handles of the front door. Stupid faulty lock. Stupid prank from Belphegor to annoy Lucifer. Your lips were inches from his ear, more teasing speech sounding like the song of sirens to lure him in, “want me that bad?”

No speaking. If he spoke Mammon knew he would mess everything up and wake up from the dream he had to have been having. Instead he successfully pushed the front door open and whisked you away to his bedroom. Where you belonged.

It all just felt so right having you inside his space. Your scent has gotten so faint over the days it had been since your movie night together. The aura you held, so mischevious in its purity, tainted by his pact. He could see the black blemish along your soul all around you, burned by the mark along your sternum.

And yet, it just fuelled him so much more. It was all his. You were his. You were dressed up all for him, ready to be coated in his treasure, and smiling at him in wait for his next step. You stood in front of his bed, fingers trailing down the golden dress you tortured him with. It would be so easy to push you back onto the mattress and ravage you as he had desired for far too long.

Mammon was sure that his breathing was ragged and shallow, he must have resembled a monster. His hair was messed from his own awkward hands as he tried to stay calm and the tingling of his wings still taunted his back in wait. One more step and the control over himself would combust.

He was always weak when it came to you.

“Mammon,” you whispered his name like it were a crime. So soft spoken, not wanting to break the bubble. Your mischief, the teasing, it had gone. All that stood left before him was the radiating greed from your form, drowning his mind in the finest of liquor, “I need you.”

Snap . He heard the crack of his wings hitting the air before Mammon properly felt them extend from his back. They tore through the suit he wore as he pounced on you, your back falling to the mattress under his body.

You were so small. He was not the largest demon, but there was something in the sheer difference in your frames. Your face was cast in his shadow, your alluring eyes large as you stared up at him. There was no fear when his claw tore through the front of your dress.

Instead, there was a bright smile, the one he loved, when you realised what he was doing. “Yours, Mammon,” your hands found his hair and the horns protruding from them, pushing your chest closer to his face. The torn gold along your chest had revealed your glorious body to him, but most importantly, the mark that made you his.

“Mine,” the word was like a growl on his tongue as he watched the mark. It glowed in his presence, even more of the glorious gold that he loved. “Had to watch ya be shown off. I felt sick watchin’ but I couldn’t look away from ya, Treasure.”

You lifted a leg around his hips to press yourself against his erection. Mammon felt his cheeks go red from the shame but your shaky moan at the touch melted it away. His greedy little human, it felt amazing to know he was not the only one desperate. “Did I look pretty for you?”

“So so pretty,” he pushed up the skirt of your dress, letting the long material bunch at your waist. He wouldn’t let you take it off, maybe not for a long time. His colour was just too beautiful on you. “Gonna need you to wear this every day.”

You shuddered against him as Mammon ran a long finger along your cunt. No underwear. He had always heard Asmo talk about how you couldn’t wear panties with some clothes, but he just thought it was a lie. And yet, you were on display for him just like that. “That may be hard since you tore the front,”

“Ain’t no one else seeing you in this.” No. No, he couldn’t be having that. Even if you were in an outfit that covered all your skin under hundreds of layers, Mammon would still prefer it for his eyes alone. The wet heat on his fingers made his head spin in horny glee, the sweet smell of you making his eyes roll. “Just for me from now on. Got it? Me.”

You pushed against his seeking hand, rubbing more of your slick onto his palm. His erection throbbed in his pants. He needed to feel you. Feel all of you. “I sound like a doll then.”

His wings flapped and Mammon bit his lip. Doll. That worked. He rather liked it. “My doll, though, not my brothers,” he dug his head into the crook of your neck. Your smell was so strong, it streamed from every pore in your skin, he felt intoxicated. The growing lust, the overwhelming greed, even the licks of pride that often made his face scrunch were delicious from you. “Need ya really bad, human.”

You stroked his hair and rolled your hips against him. “Then, have me,”

The soft words had spurred action within you both. Mammon had gone into his back while you adjusted yourself to straddle him, his erection flush against his toned chest and leanings beads of white. Your eyes never strayed from his dick, he felt like glowing under your approving gaze.

“You have piercings?” Mammon nodded with a smirk, shining from the wetness he could feel growing on his thighs. You liked it. He should have known you would.

Your hand gently went to grasp his cock, thumb running along the golden piercing beneath the head. His moaned through his teeth at your curious touch. You did it again, gauging his reaction and milking another bead of precum from his slit.

Mammon noticed the bite of your lip, the slow grinding of your hips and the flooding lust in the air. He wanted to show off for you, tease you, and simultaneously ask if you wanted him to get more. “I really like it,” you eventually said, rubbing your palm against him as you lifted yourself into the air.

He dug his fingers into the mattress beneath him. It was happening. The thing he had craved. Something Mammon would have sold all his belongings for. You. He got to have you!

You aligned his dick with your entrance, whimpering as he entered. Your golden dress had fallen down and hid the act from his eyes, which may be a good thing because Mammon knew he would never be able to tear his eyes from it. He groaned as you slid down the shaft, taking more and more of him in such a slow movement that it felt torturous.

Until, he was completely in you, pushing you and stretching you out. He could feel your cunt tight and warm around him, throbbing in need for only his touch. Your face was scrunched in desire as your lip wobbled. His little human. All full.

“Doing so well, Treasure,” he moaned the praise into the air, his hand right on your hip. The glow of his pact mark fuelled the flames inside his body, only triumphed as your tits slipped from the torn dress. Mammon couldn’t help himself. “My human. Lookin’ all pretty for me,” he continued to whispered all the praise he had ever thought of when it came to you, moving himself up and closer to your chest.

When his mouth kissed the skin around your breast, your body shook as you moaned. He graced his fangs to see your reaction — it was just as needy as the last. You began to move on his dick, bouncing up and down while you pulled on his hair.

More marks. He wanted to leave enough marks on you that no one would dare go near you. Mammon squeezed his hand in your waist as he bit gently on your chest, and to his surprise you giggled through your shaky moan. “Am I your property now, Mammon?”

“Not property,” he was quick to dismiss that. You were his, but not an object. You were his favourite treasure, someone to worship. “You’re mine though. Don’t ya forget that or else.”

Your movements were that of a succubi. You’d managed to get him nice and deep inside you, threatening his control over just filling you up with his cum each time, then pulling him out so just his tip would kiss your opening.

And yet, your face was angelic and oh so sweet. Mammon was enamoured. “I won’t ever forget,” he couldn’t help but nuzzle into your neck again. It felt so safe. Mammon kissed your neck as he moved his other hand to your hip, moving your body with your bouncing, adding just the slightest bit more speed.

His favourite doll. His sapphire and his gold. His.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! shall we date #obey me mammon #obey me! mammon #om! mammon #shall we date mammon #obey me smut #obey me! smut #obey me! shall we date smut #obey me! mammon smut #mammon smut #mammon obey me #mammon obey me smut #om!swd smut #om!swd mammon #om! smut #om! mammon smut #⌜writing⌟

244 notes · View notes

dxmoness · 6 months

Text

─────── NEW ROMANTICS.

✩ ིྀ ! WE'RE ALL BORED, WE'RE ALL SO TIRED OF EVERYTHING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ c. henituse + boredom has its own solutions ˖ 𖦹

“this is so boring.” cale groans as he fiddles with the piece of parchment in his hand. his eyes linger towards the female who was indulged in reading something about mystics, that he could have sworn she said was a stupid book that was nonfactual yet still read with an engrossed desire.

“Oi. Earth to name, i am in dire need of some affectionate company over here.” he seemed sarcastic in saying it, but in his heart he really did. the female did not move an inch, immediately realizing the depth of her reading he decides to take a different approach or entertainment and just simply admires her from where he is.

he sighs deeply before he buries his face in the books and sleeps. only now did name notice him, a small smile flickered on her delicate lips as she looks for something he could lay his head on that wasn't a hardbound book.

she takes off her own coat, not at all minding the freezing frostbite of air she felt as she folds it up and places it under his head, slipping off the book and replacing it in a quick motion.

proud of her work, she made the decision to return to her book. before she could, cale’s hand shot out and kissed her soft fingers. his lips grazing on her knuckles brought more than enough colour to her pale skin.

embarrassed as she was, she gave him a playful swat and left. leaving a chuckling cale behind.

✩ ིྀ ! HEARTBREAK IS OUR NATIONAL ANTHEM, WE SING IT PROUDLY ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ j. agriche + how to get away from political marriage ˖ 𖦹

for some reason, her best friend jeremy had the sudden idea to meet her in the woods in secret and she hasn't the foggiest idea why.

but like the good friend she is, she went anyway. she enters the quiet midst of the forest. her eyes look warily around her, noticing a whine of a horse she follow the direction of the sound.

she finds jeremy, sitting on his horse. his blue eyes seem to shine when he sees her. he slides off and takes her hand, kissing it gently.

“lovely to see you've come, my beautiful lady.” you could swear it almost sounded sincere, but that is simply uncertain due to jeremy being an agriche by heart.

“yes, yes. what's the meaning of this?” she responds, her response seemed to make him flinch.

“i’ve upset you, my lady. that was not my intention.” jeremy murmured. “but let's get straight to the point, i'm here to let you in on one or my schemes.” he could tell this peaked her fragile line of interest. “i need you to be my pretty mistress.”

“what?!” she is stunned to say the least. and she had every right to be.

he gave a small smile to her outburst. “my father wants me in a political marriage and i do not like the woman i’ve been paired up with.” “so you're asking me to helo you break here heart?” name asks and he nods. “are you insane? sign me in.” she grins and jeremy chuckles, patting her head.

in the end, the fake relationship for heartbreak turned to a real one that they consummated quickly.

✩ ིྀ ! PLEASE TAKE MY HAND AND PLEASE TAKE ME DANCING ! •˙ ⌗

𓂃 ࣪ h. niccolo + a dance with the marquis ˖ 𖦹

it all went by so fast, the marquis spoke with her and a moment later took her to dance. his fingers intertwined with hers, his arm on her waist. the two of them swayed gracefully on the dance floor.

their dance seemed to catch everyone's attention as everyone seemed mesmerized. it ie understandable. even she is. the marquis is beautiful, breathtaking. words could not describe his elegance, his looks. he is an angel that descended from heaven.

and to be dancing with him? that is a high honour for her. she is absolutely in awe. also quite panicky. she didn't want to do any wrong, especially not with him as her partner.

he suddenly carried her and spun her around moving her down, they spin and twirl for ages. when they finish, he guides her to the quieter parts of the party. his eye filled with love and admiration as he kisses her on the hand.

“thank you dearest. it was a lovely time to dance with you.” hie voice is soft, gentle, soothing... his purple eyes is fixated on her own. his hand slipe and caresses her cheek. “you look ravishing, my lady.”

this brought a flush of colour on her cheeks. “thank you..”

“no problem.” he smiles and kisses her cheek so suddenly. “please excuse me now, lovely. i’ll see you again sometime, yes?” he asks, and she nods.

✦. ⊹ ˚ dedicated to @bertry3 !! gift no.2

guests — @lombxrdi , @achy-boo ,

@crownxie , @histxricaldrama ,

@yevene , @nyrwve , @hikamins : ˚⊹ ᰔ

────────────────────

take inspo or translate my

work! none of the chars i

write for are mine unless

stated!

#manhwa #manhwa x reader #jeremy agriche x reader #twtpflob #twtpflob x reader #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #the way to protect the female lead's older brother x reader #trash of the count's family #trash of the duke's family #trash of the count's family x reader #cale henituse x reader #your throne #your throne x reader #helio niccolo #helio niccolo x reader #helio tropium x reader #— the skillfulness of the deities. . . . written works ♡#— a field of dreams and desires. . . . manhwa ♡

354 notes · View notes

trendywaifus · 6 months

Text

↳ i have dreams that lives in my nightmares!

everyone described the ruthless freddy krueger to be a vengeful spirit seen as a disfigured man. one night after falling asleep, you were finally able to come face to face with the urban legend.

↳ featuring, dream demon! kafka

—cw, fem! sub! reader, oral sex (fem! reader receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dub–con, mentions of scars, not proofread

after falling victim to slumber, you found yourself what it looks like to be in an empty museum full of fog. “ a. .museum? “ you questioned, anxiety gradually swelling in the pits of your stomach. like the fog, the atmosphere was thick with ominous silence. you walked down the large hallways blindly, catching glimpses of bizarre paintings and artifacts displayed along the walls. there was a particular painting of a spider seemingly stuck in the midst of its own web.

“ whoever made this museum has actual issues. “

breathy laughter echoes through the walls of the empty museum. “ oh really? you wound me, i happen to put this together myself. “ the voice drawls before humming a familiar tune. wait, was that summer and winter? you were unsure of the direction from where the voice is coming from. but as each moment passed, her humming got louder and louder. it felt like she was in your head, luring you in a hypnotic trance. you were starting to get a bit dizzy.

but then, a horrid sound of metal scratches against a harsh surface. “ oh, fuck. i think i should just get on my knees and start praying. “ you muttered as the steady sound of heels clanked across the tile floor ahead of you. a tall silhouette comes into view through the fog. but what made your heart nearly burst out of your chest was the shadows of her stretched arms disproportionately reached further along the walls as if they were wings.

“ actually, never mind! i should start running! “ you quickly turned around to make a run for it but her voice stops you.

“ stay. “

on her command, your body stops itself in its tracks. no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t even take a step forward. immediately after, a delicate hand runs up your back and rests on your shoulder; you shivered. “ good girl. as much as i enjoy the game cat and mouse, i wanna finally see that pretty face of yours up close and personal first. “ she purrs in your ear before walking in front of your frozen body to see your face.

“ holy. .” you were memorized by the tall beauty towering over you. beautiful lilac eyes, long, silky purple tresses stopping below her breasts, red lips curled up in a deceivingly warm smile; she was out of this world (figuratively and literally!). no alleged burn marks etched to her skin, instead it was creamy and flawless. she adorned a white, long sleeve collar shirt, black dress pants, and heels. you were ripped away from your admiring when a long, sharp metal claw gently runs along your jaw, careful not to tear skin.

“ mmh, it’s such a shame a little dove like yourself got caught into my web. “

“ a-and it’s such a shame that i’ve never gotten to meet such a beautiful woman like you until now.“ you blurted out.

a genuine look of surprise flashed on her pale features before she lets out a soft laugh. “ well, i didn’t expect you to be quite the charmer, little dove. i’ve been watching you for quite some time. “

you give her a confused look. “ but why me? “ her smile stretches wider with mischievousness, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “ i will say this, human lust and desire are known to be so strong that the brain translates them into the most interesting fantasies which are called— “

“ w-wet dreams. .“ you stuttered, heat rising into your cheeks. is she implying that the only reason she was watching you was because of your wet dreams? you don’t know if you should be embarrassed or weirded out. the woman laughs out of no where, “ you should be more so embarrassed, darling. you have quite the wildest dreams that even i was taken back from. but to answer your question, hardly. i’m really here for you. “

your brows furrow with confusion.” did you just read my mind? “ she teasingly smile at you, bending down a bit to lean closer to your face. you swallowed thickly. “ yes. anyways, how about this, “ she draws closer to your face until hers lips are nearly touching yours. “ let me have some fun with you and i’ll let you go. you wouldn’t mind that since this is one of your fantasies, no? “

fuck, why did she have to see my dreams? you thought, shyly adverting your gaze down at the floor. amused, she lifts your chin up with a gloved finger; forcing you to return eye contact with her. your knees nearly turned jelly under her roguish eyes. “ and, if. .i don’t, you’ll kill me right? “ you questioned, voice barely under a whisper.

she hums thoughtfully, “ well, I would say yes but since it’s you, i’d rather not. you caught my attention after all, sweetheart. “ she presses her red lips against yours, running her tongue over your bottom lip. her hands which were now strangely bare, roams your body delicately as if you were one of her most prized artifacts. a shiver runs down your spine as her cool hand slips under your shirt and massages the warm skin under it with her thumb. you couldn’t help but feel excitement course through you.

“ now, what will it be? i can practically sense your desire for me. “ she chuckles against your lips. bewitched by her kisses and honeyed–filled voice, you whisper, “ y-yes, as long as you let me go after.” thrilled by your answer, she smiles wider, this time, revealing her fangs which prods your lips. “ atta girl. oh! before we continue, despite what humans call me, i prefer “kafka.” i’m afraid the original freddie had to put down his hat. “

you narrowed your gaze. ‘freddie?’ as in the urban legend freddy krueger? who could of possibly thought she was freddy? or even his replacement? where did he even go? “ and why are you telling me this? “

with a flick of her wrist, the setting changes and you’re now back in your bedroom. you assume it was conjured up by kafka. “ because i don’t want you screaming out the wrong name of course. “

before you can react, you land butt first on the mattress. kafka situates herself on the bed and between your legs. her long slender fingers reaches for the waistband of your pajamas and slides them down your legs and off your feet. she licks her lips at the damp spot staining your panties. “ i haven’t properly touched you yet and you’re already excited.”

too flustered to respond to her lewd comment, you let her pull off your cotton panties; giving her a delicious view of your dripping pussy. she runs a digit along your folds, coating it with your juices. “ so wet.” kafka purrs, delving her face further between your legs. her warm tongue presses flat against your clit before enclosing her lips around it. “ sh-shit. .! “ you gasped, curling your toes in pleasure as she starts sucking on the senstive bud. her index finger teases your entrance before sliding inside.

your cunt squeezes around her as if it was welcoming her. now knuckles—deep inside, she drags her long, slender finger in and out of your hole. all you could do was squirm and buckle your hips, hoping the graceful entity can relieve the aching knot in your abdomen. kafka retracts her mouth away from your bundle of nerves with a soft pop. she smirks, “ i haven’t added in another finger and yet you’re squirming as if i’m using three on you. here then.” you felt two finger enter your core, filling and stretching you out even further.

you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back in ecstasy as her well—manicured nails rubs against the spongy spot of your walls. “ r-right there, kafka! please! “ you babbled, throwing her a desperate look. kafka says nothing and grants your wish, curling her fingers right where you want it while her thumb idly plays with your clit in circular motions; driving you right over the edge. “ fuck, fuck, i’m gonna—“

to your utter disappointment, she pulls back, fingers covered in your slick. kafka laughs at the look of betrayal and confusion on your cute face. “ sorry, darling. i just had to do it. “ you forgot you were messing around with a being who loves to trick and torment people for her own pleasure. still in a daze, you tried your best to glare at her. “ don’t give me that look, pretty thing. lay on your back for me, i promise i won’t do it again. “

hesitant, you laid down on your back. kafka gently spreads your legs open for more space before going back in. she places her hands on your inner thighs, holding them apart. kafka observes how your slick pools from your pussy. delighted by the sight, she drawls, “ i’m just itching to get a taste darling. “

you stifle back a moanful groan as her tongue licks down along your folds in broad strokes. kafka emits a satisfied hum from tasting your essence on her tongue. she enters straight in, brushing her wet muscle down your gummy walls. “ god, kafka. .!” you moaned, feeling her tongue skillfully pump into your aching cunt. she pushes her face closer, nudging the bundle of nerves with her nose.

arching your back in pleasure, the familiar tension in your stomach returns as she continues to fuck you with her tongue. “ sh-shit, it’s coming back! “ you tried to enclose your thighs around her head but she easily keeps them in place. kafka firmly squeezes at the supple flesh, silently urging you to cum. “ c-cumming, kafka! “ you nearly screamed, your walls pulsates around her tongue and not a moment after, moderate amounts of cum dribbles out of your hole and in her mouth.

“ you taste wonderful, pretty thing. better than any wine i’ve once tasted. “ kafka greedily licks your slick and cum from her slightly–smudged red lips. you panted heavily, legs jelly from your climax. she sits upright to unbutton her collar shirt, your eyes widens in astonishment as she does; the skin that was previously covered was littered with scars and horrific markings. it was as if she has gone through extreme torture at some point in time. an unreadable expression settles on her face as she gauges your reaction.

smiling blankly, kafka expected you to scream or attempt to scramble away in terror but you didn’t. perhaps you were too fatigued to even move. but, searching in your tired eyes, she sees a sliver of pity in them. it was something she hadn’t seen in a very long time because all she was use to was fear, anger, and many other negative emotions she strikes into her victims. “ d-don’t give me that look, you know i can’t run away even if i tried, kafka. b-besides, ” you continued, averting your gaze away from her eyes awkwardly, “ e-even someone like you was once caught in someone else’s web so i can’t say i’m horrified of that. “

kafka smiles once more but this time, laced with amusement. she tosses her unbuttoned shirt to the side and dips down to whisper in your ear. her hot breath fans against your skin. “ keep being this interesting and cute, darling and i’ll appear in every dream of yours until you wish you no longer have the ability to sleep. “

#kafka x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail #honkai x reader #hsr x reader #honkai star rail imagines #honkai star rail women x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail smut

370 notes · View notes

adini-nikolaevna · 1 month

Note

Romani people have always seemed to me as unique beauties. Especially the children of Tsar Nicholas I and Tsar Nicholas II were wonderfully beautiful. My question is the famous dark blue eyes of the Romanovs, which are known to everyone. Are there any quotes about these eyes, which are admired and praised by everyone? Were their eye colors really that perfect? Thanks in advance for your answer 🤗

Hi! Here are a few quotes for you:

"Her eyes have that unusual sparkle which poets and lovers describe as heavenly." - Dutch General Friedrich Gagern on Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1822-1892)

"... a tall and slender blonde, a perfect beauty, with the profile of a cameo and big blue eyes." - A.I. Sokolova on Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1822-1892)

"She was slightly above the medium height, with a fresh complexion, deep blue eyes, quantities of light chestnut hair, and pretty hands and feet." - Yulia "Lili" Dehn on Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1895-1918)

"Extremely pretty, with brilliant blue eyes and a lovely complexion, Olga resembled her father in the fineness of her features, especially in her delicate, slightly tipped nose." - Anna Vyrubova on Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1895-1918))

"She had not the regular features, the almost mystical beauty of her sister, Tatiana Nikolaevna, but with her rather tip-tilted nose, her wide laughing mouth, her sparkling blue eyes, she had a charm, a freshness, an enchanting exuberance that made her irresistible." - Meriel Buchanan on Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna (1895-1918)

“... very tall, slender as a reed, [with] an elegant cameo profile, grey eyes and brown hair. She was fresh, clean and fragile, like a rose." - Lili Dehn on Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna

“Certainly she was a different type from the others even in appearance, her hair being a rich brown and her eyes so darkly gray that in the evening they seemed quite black... " --Anna Vyrubova on Grand Duchess Tatiana Nikolaevna

"She had beautiful, regular features, and resembled some of the beauties among her royal relatives, whose family portraits decorated the palace. Dark haired, pale, with wide-set eyes – she had a poetic, faraway look that did not fit her personality.” -- Anna Vyrubova on Grand Duchess Tatiana NIkolaevna.

"A real beauty, with enormous blue eyes." - Grand Duchess Maria Alexandrovna on Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna

“Marie Nicolaevna was like Olga Nicolaevna in colouring and features, but all on a more vivid scale. She had the same charming smile, the same shape of face, but her eyes, ‘Marie’s saucers,’ as they were called by her cousins, were magnificent, and of a deep dark blue. " - Baroness Sophia Buxhoeveden on Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna

“… tall, healthy, with sable eyebrows and a bright blush on her open Russian face; she was especially lovely to a Russian heart… her eyes illuminate her entire face with a unique, radiant luster; they sometimes seem black, as long eyelashes throw shadows over the bright blush of her soft cheeks. She is merry and alive, but she has not yet awakened completely to life; probably concealed in her are the immense forces of a real Russian woman.” - Sofia Ofrosimova on Grand Duchess Maria Nikolaevna

"Her features were regular and finely cut. She had fair hair, fine eyes, with impish laughter in their depths, and dark eyebrows that nearly met." - Baroness Sophia Buxhoeveden on Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna

"... her eyes, exact copies of the soft blue eyes of her father." - Gleb Botkin on Grand Duchess Anastasia Nikolaevna

#answered

32 notes · View notes

light-lanterne · 6 months

Text

took a break from writing a twisted little story and suddenly remembered the book "perfume", so i can't help but byler-fy it.

tw // mcd; graphic depictions of violence, murder and gore; obsession; mentioned cannibalism - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☽ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - an offering, @catboy-cabin, @conanssummerchild, @cosmobrain00, @fluffyfangirl, @foodiewithdahoodie, @hyperfixationcentralsvoid, @holyvirgilscriptures, @lucasvenkman, @rotisseries, @yearninginblue. only tagging those i know who are enthusiastic about this type of story; forgive me if i've overstepped x.x

for those who don't know the story, please picture this: perfume maker mike who is incredibly sensitive to smell. he constantly creates the most intricate and delicate perfumes and he is great at it, but he soon bores of the scent of herbs, flowers and fruits and thus, he begins the quest to create something else.

something interesting and unique that's never been done before; a fragrance so wonderful no one will ever be able to resist it.

so he begins experimenting. uses the most bizarre extracts; creates some rather odd-yet-delicious odours that are hard to describe as anything other than exquisite,,, but it's not quite enough. he still finds his perfumes menial and uninteresting and no one around him seems to understand what he's searching for, so he grows more and more frustrated every day.

that is, of course, until he crosses paths with will: a pretty little artist who's come back to his hometown for inspiration and a break from the stress of the big city. an artist who mike used to know when they were children —before mike developed his bizarre senses—, who he hadn't thought much about in a long time

and for most people, there's nothing too special about will: he is rather handsome and nothing short of a true gentleman; he is kind and soft-spoken, and his art shows a remarkable talent and dexterity one wouldn't expect from someone so young.

but he is, ultimately, just a normal young man.

except,,, well, mike might've been a little infatuated with will back in the day so he's already fond of will's presence.

more than that, however, mike has a keen sense of smell and thus, he knows there's much more to will than what meets the eye. more specifically, mike knows that will's scent is the perfect aroma he'd been searching for all along and so, he must do absolutely everything in his power to bottle it up and keep it safe for the rest of eternity.

so he tries to replicate it. he mixes every oil and extract he owns and creates yet more wondrous concoctions everyone loves,,, but everything pales when compared to the original, which leaves mike with only one choice.

he kills his first victim in the middle of the night, shortly after the local bars have closed their doors for the day.

the next one perishes in the middle of the forest, their screams unheard as mike drives them deeper and deeper into the woods.

the next, mike lures into his shop under the pretence of a simple one-day summer job, the youth's blood staining the dark stone tiles where mike's been conducting his research.

over and over, mike kills people of all sizes and ages as he searches for a way to extract all their scents, each method more complex than the last, until he's finally refined his technique enough to dare try with his true target: will, who mike's spent all this time reconnecting with, becoming best friends with again, and even courting in an effort to satisfy his twisted needs.

on one hand, he wants to know exactly who he's planning to kill, becoming more and more obsessed and deranged with each passing day as his feelings for will grow.

on the other, and much higher on his list of priorities, he wants to spend as much time as possible smelling that delicious elixir he's hoping to acquire at some point.

and finally, after several months, the time's come: mike lures the unsuspecting will into his house and swiftly, with ease, stabs him to death until the gleam in those lovely olive eyes vanishes and gets replaced with a now-familiar white fogginess. then, mike proceeds to gather his supplies, all of which he cleaned and polished the previous night in preparation for this most crucial moment in his life.

and then he gets to chopping.

then, to distilling.

then, to bottling it all up.

he works efficiently and methodically as he prepares the perfume and, once his magnus opus is ready, he stares at it for a long while. just leaves the bottle there, on the table, gawking at it with as much fervour and reverence as he used to stare into will's charming hazel eyes.

once he's done just admiring what he's created, mike decides to test the cologne; sprays the tiniest bit on an illustration will had gifted him a week earlier, takes a deep breath in and smiles.

then, he walks from room to room and sprays just a little more fragrance on all fabrics and surfaces so that his house smells like will.

then, he walks over to will's carcass —which has acquired a certain different smell by now— and reinstates what once was by covering will with the mist of the pure, better version of his natural smell, so lovingly and thoroughly extracted by mike.

and last, of course, mike sprays a little perfume on himself, feeling it envelop him like a warm hug he can't escape from, all tender and lovely and absolutely perfect.

so he relishes in his success. spends the entire day breathing in the intoxicating smell and, after spraying another round of perfume on himself —the very last of it—, he steps outside his house to show the world what he's created, finding the entire population of hawkins at a town assembly arranged to discuss the recent disappearances and killings that have shaken the town to its very core.

so he steps in, bloodied hands and clothing making his nightly affairs evident to everyone in the room, crazed eyes and mad smile leaving no room for doubt about his insanity and murderous acts.

but it doesn't matter. will's enrapturing scent was too faint to be picked up by anyone but mike and his advanced sense of smell, but now that it's been distilled and concentrated, everyone is able to feel just how special it is. how delicious and mouth-watering it is.

so mike is attacked; tackled to the ground as everyone tries to get a little part of his clothes or his flesh, and it's not long before someone decides to take a bite to determine whether or not the fragrance tastes as good as it smells. and truth be told, mike can't blame them for it even as he perishes.

because, if he were amidst the ravenous crowd, he would be doing the exact same thing.

- the end -

(sorry for the unhappy ending, that's just how the book ends x.x also, i am now just realising that wanting to “wear” your "loved" one feels a lot like cannibalism as a metaphor for desire, does it not ? so in the end, this isn't anything i haven't explored before x.x)

#✨#🧸#byler #byler fanfiction #byler fanfic #byler ficlet #will byers #mike wheeler #dark byler agenda #w // graphic depictions of violence #w // murder #w // mcd #w // gore #w // cannibalism

39 notes · View notes

hanitarot · 2 years

Text

Your vibe

Who are you?

Pac #5

hello everyone. Choose a picture that resonates with you. If you feel that the description does not suit you, please choose another one. Sorry for my bad english-

Pile 1

Hi group 1, I already really like you. I see you as those who are very smart. You can look at the situation from the outside and think sensibly. You have a lively mind and you always succeed in everything. You are one of those who constantly take on a lot of things as actively and energetically as possible, you have great taste, you can also get involved in art. You are open and talkative. Also, many people think you are hot. You have a very attractive beauty, you can have delicate or delicate features. Your body is also very sexy, as if it produces pheromones for others. Be careful because many people envy you.

I think you are one of entp, estj, entj, isfp, istj, intp

enneagrams: 8, 6, 1, 3, 4

aura: red, orange, blue, purple

Pile 2

hello my lovely guys. Today I have warm weather, just like you. Your aura is very calming, you are warm and cheerful. You are like a warm but strong wind. You are a bit like Group 1. You are extremely energetic, do fun things, are not afraid to do stupid things. But I see that you don't let anyone help you. You are always ready to help everyone, but you yourself do not accept help. You love companies. You are very sensual and emotional, you express everything freely and openly. You are someone who is proactive and always has a fire in his eyes.

You pretty much remind me of esfp, estp, enfp and enfj

enneagram: 2, 7, 1

aura: yellow, light blue, pink

Pile 3

Heelllooo. Again we have quite an active group. You are positive and love to enjoy life. But you differ from groups 1 and 2 in that you are more spiritual and dreamy. You are sooo creative, so I'm not surprised you can live in your head. You may have hobbies such as drawing, reading, also tarot or astrology. You like to see the world differently than it really is, which can make you have rose-colored glasses. You remind me a little of fairies, you might be into the idea of herbs or similar aesthetics. You are not too social, you have enough of those who are nearby, you do not need an active social life. I find it wonderful. Most likely you have a dream or a goal, I wish you good luck and faith in yourself, because it will come true.

You remind me of isfj, infj, isfp, istp and infp. enneagrams 4, 3, 6, 9

aura: green, light yellow, purple

Pile 4

Hi, I see something between group 3 and 1. You are definitely those who are ready to give a lot for their ideals and opinions. But I don't think it's bad. You are someone who is willing to sacrifice yourself for the sake of others or your goals. You give yourself completely to every task. You seem very strong to me. You are also very gentle and caring. To be honest, you remind me a bit of a mother or a woman to follow, no matter what gender you are. In fact, it seems to me that many people see you differently than you really are. No one can describe what you have inside, and you probably don’t understand yourself? You may resent people or your life because you put in a lot of effort, but things don't go the way you'd like them to. Let it go. Be yourself. Is this the only one of all the groups that is difficult for me to describe, because there are those who cannot understand themselves? My cards say that after you let go of everything and trust the universe, all answers will come to you. It may be difficult for you at times to describe your feelings, thoughts, what you want and desire. I am on your side, and you can rely on me and your loved ones

You remind me of Infj, intj, isfj, isfp, istp, esfj, enfj

enneagram 1, 8, 2, 5

aura: purple, blue, pale red

sorry that the pile's are short. Many people read them, so I have described briefly

931 notes · View notes

yellowsocialbunny · 8 months

Text

targaryen sims portraits pt. III

Prince Aemon Targaryen had eyes "as pale as lilac". His hair was a rare color, rare even in Old Valyria: it was pale, and shone like white gold. Aemon was tall and handsome, even as a boy of seven. He was taller than his younger brother Baelon, and stronger. By the time Aemon was fifteen years old, he was six feet and two inches tall. As a young child, Aemon was very serious, cautious, careful, and obedient. Aemon was fast friends with his brother Baelon, and would train with him in the yard. They were evenly matched against each other, and their contests were very spirited, always drawing crowds of onlookers.

Prince Baelon Targaryen at birth was smaller than his older brother, Aemon. He was louder and lustier, however. The first time Baelon visited the Dragonpit, he hit Balerion on the snout, causing Ser Samgood of the Kingsguard to remark that he was either brave or mad. Ever since, Baelon was also known as Baelon the Brave.

Princess Alyssa Targaryen was long-faced and skinny. She had dirty blond tangled hair, without a trace of silver. She had mismatched eyes, one violet, the other green. She had big ears and a lopsided smile. At the age of six she broke her nose, which healed crooked. As a child, she did not act like a girl. She would dress in boy's clothes whenever possible, and preferred to ride, climb, and duel with wooden swords over more lady-like activities, and shunned the company of girls. Alyssa was strong, quick, and spirited. She loved to boast that she was "as bawdy a wench as any barmaid in King's Landing".

Septa Maegelle Targaryen as a girl was gentle, quiet, studious, and exceedingly bright, and was said to read from the Seven-Pointed Star every night before sleep, and was eager to take the vows. She was known for her compassion, and her gift for healing.

Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen had the silver-gold hair and purple eyes of the Targaryens. However, he could not be described as "comely": he had a long face and round shoulders, even at a young age. He always had a pinched sour cast to his mouth. He was not a coward, but neither took joy from the play of squires and pages. He was a miserable fighter, and not well-trained at arms. He was a bookish boy and much preferred the library, where he could often be found. Books were his only passion. When he had to speak he was often blunt, though never intentionally cruel: he always dutifully performed perfunctory courtesies, but no more.

Princess Daella Targaryen was small of stature: on her toes she stood five feet and two inches. Everyone who met her judged her younger than she was in truth, as there was a childish aspect to her. As she grew to maidenhood she was described as pretty, enough to attract the attention of young lords, but wasn't singled out as exceptionally beautiful. Daella was considered sweet, kind, and gentle, with a tender heart. However, she was also a delicate and shy, tongue-tied girl, who was easily frightened and quick to cry. She liked flowers but was afraid of gardens, bees, and cats

descriptions by A Wiki of Ice and Fire

37 notes · View notes

dhampiravidi · 11 months

Text

TMI/TSC OC (Cathan Morgenstern)

form adapted from this template!

BASIC

Name: Cathan [KUH-hahn] Morgenstern

Birthplace: Idris (Morgenstern Manor)

Birthday: Nov. 15, 1988 (19 in 2007)

Race: Idrisian (Human; affected by time in the Faerieland)

Gender: Cis Male

Sexuality: Pansexual

APPEARANCE

Overall: Cathan appears to be a tall (5'10") man in good shape for his age and height. He is lightly toned due to occasional exercise (dancing and sex more than training). His skin is pale since he’s usually inside his shaded hideaway or a club. His eyes are a light green, always lined in black or a metallic color. His wavy hair is typically level with his chin and is a copper color. His ears are pointed and pierced. Cathan loves to wear what would be considered clothes from the Romantic era: (open or sheer) shirts with flowing sleeves, low-waisted pants, things with ribbons…all in a nature-inspired palette.

FC: Cody Fern

BACKGROUND

Cathan is the “lost” Morgenstern child. He was born to Valentine and Jocelyn prematurely, so weak that hardly anyone thought he’d survive the night. His father had already promised his firstborn to the Seelie in exchange for magical secrets, so Valentine took the boy and gave him to the faerie messenger that night without regret. Jocelyn was told that her son had died and been sent to the Silent City. Meanwhile, Cathan was gifted to a couple Dáire [Daw-ruh] and Fiachra [Ph-yee-kra] by the Seelie Queen. Faerie have a hard time conceiving, so they were happy, especially since they’d received a present from their monarch. Though they loved him, Cathan was initially teased growing up, because everyone knew he was Nephilim. Being raised in the Faerieland gave him pointed ears and the ability to effortlessly wield fey magic. So, although he could use angelic runes, he never did. Instead, he learned to speak the way his new people did, and be beautiful and cruel all at once. The Queen, who occasionally checks on her “nephew”, praises him for his good looks and clever tongue. Sometimes she gives him pretty clothes, jewelry, and paints. He's a prince in every way but the one that matters.

(plot dependent) He learns about his siblings through his people’s gossip. Cathan isn’t sure if he wants to know them, but he does want to kill his Shadowhunter parents. At least, that’s his excuse for going to find them.

PERSONALITY

Overall: Cathan has learned to present himself as a faerie to most and conceal his true self for his lovers. This means that he is hedonistic (which his culture accepts), but he knows how to navigate conversations which typically involve as much small talk as they do veiled insults. He also is not above flirting to get what he wants. His biggest flaw is probably his feelings towards his “aunt”, the Seelie Queen. If, for example, someone insults one of his friends and/or entourage, he won’t acknowledge it in public. He might even laugh it off, because that’s what he’s learned to do, and then he’ll comfort the friend in private. In addition, if there’s a secret he learns, he’ll tell the Queen, because she’s shown him more love than even his parents have on some occasions. He gets exasperated by the whole act of being in public, though, and retreats to his hideaway to paint and relax with his lovers (he’s polyamorous, but he only has feelings for a select few). With them, he’s himself: compassionate, silly, delicate, submissive, and free.

Hobbies: partying, painting, having sex

Fear(s): losing someone he genuinely loves, either because they’re killed or because they choose to cut him out of their life

NEPHILIM TRAITS

Familial Symbol: (canonically) a band of stars, referring to the translation of the name Morgenstern, which means “morning star”

Weapon: knives

Languages: English, Faerie

FAVOURITES

Food: best described as fish resembling salmon

Drink: Faerie wine (newer the better)

Colour: black, though he says red

Season: summer

Scent: vanilla

Music: 90s pop (he’s been to mundane clubs)

Time of Day: sunset

Item: scarf gifted to him when he was twelve

Movie: he’s never seen one (sorry!)

#admin #cathan morgenstern #jkw: headcanon

1 note · View note

aloeboba · 1 year

Text

Painting

A/N: I posted this somewhere else and then I realized I could have posted it here, too (link at the bottom). I'm a sucker for domestic fluff and soft dates and I thought of this little drabble and wrote it down 👌 idk why I wrote Hitoshi like that if there even a way to describe it (vvv Soft) but it felt right. This also was written in like 20 or so minutes and only proofread for grammar errors

I hope you like it!

Synopsis: Hitoshi teaches Mina how to paint one afternoon

University/College AU/Aged Up Characters/No Quirks/Domestic/Fluff

For the past hour, Mina had been sitting in Hitoshi lap while he guided her hand with a paint brush applying gentle strokes to the small canvas in front of them. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his head was placed comfortably on her shoulder as he watched the progress of the art and taught her and waited patiently.

Minas hand had been holding the hand that was around her middle and giving it a gentle squeeze every now and than when Hitoshi had given her a little bit of praise when a stroke was particularly soft and almost perfect (which was often).

Hitoshi had been in one of the empty art studios when Mina had called him after practice to hang out and he ended up asking her if she wanted to paint something and with a little bit of persuasion, she agreed. It was the weekend so there were few classes being taught and mostly everyone was out doing there own thing so no one to bother them during the creative process.

She dabbed a pale yellow onto her brush and quickly added it to the canvas in delicate little lines in layers for added texture to which Hitoshi responded with a gentle squeeze to her waist and smiled lightly. "Oh, very nice." He said softly and affectionately rubbed his nose into her shoulder.

All these compliments and he was doing most of the work. She was merely a vessel to his artistry despite being a little restricted if anything but he still continued to silently guide and teach her.

Mina nibbled her bottom lip in concentration trying her best not to somehow screw up even though Hitoshi was mostly in control of this piece but she still wanted it to look good and it had really been starting to pull together the more little details he added. "You're so good at this stuff." She thinks aloud as she tilts her head to the side and gets a better look at the picture. "I still don't know why you wanted me to try-"

Her voice was cut off by Hitoshi shushing her and dabbing a bit more yellow onto the paint brush. "Less talking, more art." Is all he says with a grin and leading her hand clutching the brush back to the canvas.

She stops talking immediately and follows his hand. Mina was good with her body. Controlling it, moving, expression through dance, the whole thing but she had never been so artistically inclined like her boyfriend. In fact, she was pretty sure she hadn't painted since 3rd grade yet she was still willing to try for him.

With one last stroke, they set the brush down and stared at the canvas to absorb the picture they were seeing. "Oh my, would you look at that?" Hitoshi says wrapping his other hand around her waist and grinning more. "You're becoming quite the artist and at such a good start, too." He ended off by pressing a kiss to her cheek.

With awestruck eyes and a surprised look on her face, Mina stared in shock at the painting. She had somehow helped Hitoshi paint an almost realistic water lily in the span of just over an hour and it didn't look too bad either; she was really quite amazed.

Heat began to rise to her cheeks and she leaned her back against his chest a little more. "You're such an amazing artist." She blinked a few times then smiled. "I could never, Ever do something like this on my own."

"But didn't you?" He raises an eyebrow and gives another squeeze to her waist. "I just helped. I'm pretty sure this was all you."

Mina laughs a little and shakes her head. Obviously, he did most of the work but he was happy he could teach her something he loved and got to spend time with her in his element. Hitoshi brought his hand up to her face to brush a few strands of her hair behind her ear. "You know, you're also very talented at this. This painting has a very certain Mina Charm to it, don't you think?" He continued to gaze back and forth between her and the canvas. "It wouldn't look as good without you."

Mina pats his face affectionately and shakes her head one more time. "Fine." She starts to poke his cheeks now. "I'll take the credit."

They both smile and sit in silence for a little longer before he speaks up again. "You know what? I'm going to frame this and hang it up in my apartment." He nuzzles his face into her hair making her laugh quietly. "Just to remind me of this."

AO3

6 notes · View notes

moonlightchess · 2 years

Text

Bruh????? I have been so fucking depressed lately that last night I just said fuck it and ate an entire edible chocolate bar and cracked open some wine and started writing for some reason, and I only wrote a page and a half in docs BUT???? THE FUCK IS THIS???? Is this the single most tightly constructed, intense and concise character study that I have ever written in my motherfucking LIFE???? Gofundme to stay fucked up 24/7 and I might accidentally write the next great American novel???? I mean definitely not but what the FUCK?????

Taran.

The sleepwalking was my first hint. I’d never been prone to somnambulism before, but at some point between the late-September death of the world and the yawning approach of winter’s torpor, I started waking up curled up on the floor of the bathroom I shared with my brother in the mornings. Or in the narrow hallway maybe, pressed back-flat to the wooden-paneled wall with cramped legs and sticky eyelids. Devon, whose name meant “poet” in an ironic little twist considering his proclivity for hard logic and numbers, told me that sometimes he could hear me, rustling around in the middle of the night. “It’s creepy,” he told me. “You stand there with your eyes at half-mast, just kind of swaying back and forth a little. You sort of...plod around in a trance, I guess. I read somewhere that you’re not supposed to walk someone up when they’re sleepwalking, you could have a heart attack or something.”

“Unlikely,” I pointed out, but the sleepwalking was a concern. I made an appointment with Dr. Root and forgot about it, as it was only happening once or twice a week and I had more pressing demands on my time lately. The semester had just begun for us, and I was pretty sure that at least one of my professors hated me, unsurprising as my personality tended to be grating for most. Not for my brother, as patient and warm as he always was, he’d laugh and shake his head and say, “you’re a pretentious dick, T. But I’m kind of stuck with you, so whatever.” Not for Hanna, whose blonde hair was as soft and pale as cornsilk, who had deep dimples and an unfortunate crush on me. We shared a class on differential equations together, and she had a habit of waving at me and bringing me an extra coffee from the campus bookstore that I really needed to shut down soon.

Dr. Root wanted to know if I’d told my parents about the sleepwalking. “I don’t see how their opinion would be relevant,” I pointed out in what Devon described as my “weirdly stiff, formal way” of speaking to people. “Neither of them is a doctor.”

“No, but modern medicine knows very little about sleepwalking, and it’s worth considering whether or not in your case it could be a hereditary issue.” Dr. Root knew how to handle my snottiness by now, countering it with a distinctly condescending tone of his own that I appreciated. It was always so much worse when people got offended or hurt by my default approach. I was compelled to remind them in those instances that they were not special in any way, and that I spoke to everyone exactly as I was speaking to them, with a blunt honesty and little regard for their feelings, something that inevitably only wounded them further. People, as I’d come to learn, were profoundly delicate and emotional in a way to which I would never be able to relate. They were as fascinating to observe from a distance as a tribe of silverbacks in some Jane Goodall nightmare, but interacting with them directly was usually an exercise in frustration for me.

“I’ll ask Mom,” I finally conceded, after a moment of silence. That was another habit of mine that seemed to make people uncomfortable, the way I would often go silent for long stretches during conversations to consider my words more carefully than most people seemed to. Not in the interest of being inoffensive of course, because I couldn’t have possibly cared less about that, but because it was always wise to avoid giving too much of yourself to anyone. They rarely deserved it, and why make yourself vulnerable to any one person if you didn’t need to, to get what you wanted from them? The ideal situation was to expose as little of yourself as possible to a person while inspiring them to give you all of themselves so that you could pick through the nonsense of their ethos and extract the useful bits later.

“It’s not your fault,” Devon sometimes said fondly, patting my shoulder. “You’re just a high-functioning sociopath, you can’t help it.” I wanted to resent that, but after doing some minor research into the characteristics of a textbook sociopathic patient, I had to concede that his conclusion may have had some merit. The nice thing about sociopaths though, was our penchant for high levels of efficiency. It’s so much easier to get shit done when you’re not encumbered by the weight of all those sticky, leaking feelings. As a result, I found myself hunched over my laptop at one AM that morning, researching the causes and effects of sleepwalking, when the tiniest movement caught my eye from the left.

Devon was fast asleep in his room, and so I made sure to keep my footsteps light as I crossed the living room of the apartment we shared, even as the miniscule thing - some black and gray bug with spindly legs and no wings, some kind of spider - scuttled in what seemed like a bizarrely aware sort of panic across the wall. It felt like it had noticed me noticing it, somehow, and I put my glasses on to get a better look at it. By the time I made it far enough to pull back the plum-colored curtain that Devon had chosen when we’d rented this place together, it was gone. There were no visible cracks in the wall, and the window was closed, so I couldn’t have imagined where it had gone, and the lack of logic in the whole situation grated me.

#writing #my writing #am i still super high or is this GOOD?

6 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 2 years

Note

Could you write my fantasy?

Proneboning minju while wrap arms around her neck and choking her lightly?

Rum pump cum dump style?

Phone: Angel of Infinity +0

Male Reader x Kim Minju

Words: 1405 words

Tags: pronebone, choking, rough, clothed, fingering, needy!Minju

TW: QUICKIE. BARELY EDITED.

A/N: The pic is not as important. Counts for the whole series/most of my fics

>@you, I hope you have a lot of time. I’ve heard only good from you and your massive… member. Tag me, I’m always ready for you 😉< Send by Angel

What a pleasant notification to wake up to. Sadly, you don’t know the girl behind the nickname Angel. Sana and Nayeon have told you separately that she is not only the most desired woman among everyone, but also has a libido unmatched by even the horniest people in Smite City.

>Hello @Angel! I just woke up, but I can send you my address and you can come over when you want—to get to know each other better 😉< Send by you

You stretch yourself while making your way to the kitchen. Nothing better than to start the day with a rich breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, eggs, nothing less for this well-deserved week of resting and unplanned, yet welcomed, fucking. If this Angel girl really is as freaky as you have been told, you need a lot of energy.

The first plate is finished quickly, and when you want to go for seconds, the flip-phone starts to ring, a new message in the main chat.

>@you Send it, I am already waiting. I’m so excited to get to know you—and what’s behind your boxers 😉< Send by Angel

A bright smile on your face while you type out the next message, enjoying the slight teases and naughtiness. This girl seems rather horny, let’s see if the stories about her are correct. If someone like Nayeon, who literally was upside down, naked and desperately waiting for you says that Angel is even hornier, you are in for at least a couple of days of fun.

Your address hits the group chat. While making the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen, you mentally prepare yourself for how you want to satisfy this unknown girl. The thought of bending her over the table you just ate at or taking her in missionary makes blood rush down to your crotch. Maybe, if she is small, you can pick her up and pound her to a wall or do a freaky full nelson.

Every thrust you imagine, makes your cock twitch and grow in size, until suddenly, your doorbell rings. You immediately drop everything and sprint towards the front door. Opening it is maybe the only thing close to opening the gates of Heaven, because the girl right before is nothing short of perfect.

Straight, hazelnut hair. Big, dark orbs. Pale, spotless skin. A wide smile is her greeting. Too stunned to speak, you watch the girl walk in and remove her black, oversized coat. An hourglass figure, partially covered by a slutty looking skirt and a tight t-shirt. Words of admiration for her perfect shape, hips, thighs, breast, face should leave your mouth, but you just slam the door shut and with a leap you get to her.

Your arms find their way around her waist, pulling her back closer and you both don’t hesitate to fondle at each other and make-out violently. Words need not to be spoken for both of you to understand and express your need; moaning in each others mouth is enough.

Her naughty fingers rub at your clothed erection and when they free it, you gasp. She is skillful, stroking you delicately and with smooth precision. To distract yourself, you pull the second skin that is her t-shirt upwards and reveal perky breasts, not hidden behind a bra. Their shape is flawless, they fit perfectly in you hand. And it is where they belong. You squeeze and fondle, eliciting moans from her, moans of wanton lust.

“Fuck Minju on a bed, pretty please. Minju has been a bad girl because there are no panties underneath.”

What a cute name. Weird though that she is referring to herself in such a manner, but the manner in which she describes her current state does not matter, as you find it to be true. Your hand under her way-too-short skirt immediately gets wet. Wet from fluids, already gushing out of her slit.

“Well Minju, you have a gorgeous face. How about you present yourself to me, before I’ll plow you into the mattress?” Confidence from your words, and Minju listens like an obedient puppy. A step away from you, she turns around and lifts up her skirt. Her tits are also exposed—those hard, pink nipples seem to throb like your dick—because she has the hem of her t-shirt in her mouth.

“Pwease, pwow Mimju hard.”

With a sly grin, you ram to fingers into her drenched pussy and basically finger-fuck her into your bedroom. She starts to spray her cum every where, but she is still able to stand upright and only moan a little, so you are unsure if an orgasm hit her. Minju positions herself in a missionary—teary, sultry eyes almost convince you to take her like that—but your preferred position is a different one.

A spin and Minju is on her belly, laying flat like a board, only her cute, wobbly ass protruding a little as her skirt is bunched up around her waist. After quickly getting rid of your annoying clothing—who needs that shit anyways? —you align your self at her slit, rubbing the inside of her wet thighs for a couple of second. Their juice covered, perfectly smooth surface is also useful for fucking, but her heat is the only thing you want in your heat.

Something about her easily accessible, often used, yet still tight and warm hole turns you into an animal. Grunts and thrusts and thrusts and grunts. There is no difference between you and a feral beast that just found his mate. Oi course, no animal would move their hands up their partners back and then lightly squeeze on their throat—which is exactly what you do. Her moans get quieter, almost powerless and whiny, which turns you on even more. It all just leads to harder thrusts, with a squeeze of her thighs or a spank on her ass in between.

You don’t even notice Minju pulling a flip-phone out of her skirt pocket and trying to type while you still exert force to make every of her breaths a mind-numbing challenge for her. She even loses her grip on the phone when you fuck her to a strong orgasm. Girl cum stains your sheets, and it kinda fills you with pride.

“You already came twice, and I am not yet close! Let’s see how many I can get out of you, Minju.”

Strong hits at certain corners, after you have almost completely pulled out of her, prove to be highly effective. When your hand isn’t too tight, you can hear her scream in ecstasy, rarely using coherent words to describe her current pleasure. Sometime a ‘Minju, fuck Minju!’ or a ‘Minju cumdump!’ comes out of her sultry, excessively drooling mouth.

This cacophony of sounds, rhythm, warmth, depths, wetness, pressure and pride will end in your orgasm, sooner than later. Each pump get tougher, the fucking can not go on like this. Minju still cums on your cock penetrating her, while you will probably contemplate changing the whole mattress later.

Painting her back might be cliché, but it is still what you decide to do. Her velvet walls stroke you a couple of time, then your hands, then it all turns white: Minju’s body with warm white, the streets outside with cold white, and your mind… with plain white.

Prone boning Minju seems like the way to happiness, the only way, the right way. What this little Angel still has in store for you, however, is beyond your imagination.

To your utter disbelief, she is completely fine. Your finger at her throat, your cock in her cunt, your ass sitting on her thighs. Hell even the multiple orgasms did nothing to her. Minju just stands up, smiling brightly, looking at her flip-phone for a second, then at you.

“Minju likes you. Can you cum in Minju’s little hole a lot of times, please?”

Her sudden dirty aegyo catches you off guard, just like her casually standing there with cum running down her back, completely exposed sweaty front and a finger on her hard clit. Yet you’re still able to nod at the beautiful, sinful sight.

“Great! Minju thought so, which is why Minju has a gift for you. Is your front door locked?”

#minju smut #izone smut #kpop smut #male reader insert #male reader

506 notes · View notes

slasherbaby · 3 years

Text

Call Me [read on ao3 or under the cut! ♡]

Pairing: Danny Johnson x Trans Masc reader (he/him pronouns)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: smut, very mild breeding kink, knifeplay, cock/cunt used to describe the reader’s junk

Length: 4676 words

“Fuck,” Danny grunted into the phone, his voice low and forced. From sound alone, you can tell how he’s holding himself. It doesn’t take much imagination to envision the way his jaw strained, his eyebrows pulled down in the middle. “Wanna slide right into that cunt, fuck. Know you’d be so wet, such a fucking slut for me.”

Historically speaking, you��ve never been into dirty talk. It always sounded stiff, the guy talking to you usually too unsure of himself to sound even remotely sexy. But god, did it feel different with Danny. His deep voice, the rough edge around each syllable, and the naturally monotone way he spoke has always been enough to drive you crazy, ever since the first ‘hello.’

“Maybe I’d suck on that pretty fucking cock too, gotta make sure my baby’s nice and hard before I fuck him, right?”

It’s easy to picture how he’d look, looking up at you with his dark, dilated eyes. Holding your gaze as he worked your cock in his mouth. You bite down on your lower lip, stifling a groan at the sparks of pain that follow.

The laugh that comes through the receiver is rough and hoarse, sending a shiver of delight up your spine. “Don’t hide from me, angel. I already know how much of a whore you are,” Another laugh rasps through. “Everyone knows how you act at the bar after a few drinks, fucking brat. Drooling for attention, dancing around like you’re asking for it. Giving a show to everyone.”

“Yours,” You gasp, your voice just a touch away from sounding desperate. It’s the truth, afterall, but Danny already knows it. You both know that he’s the only one you’d let touch you, the only one you want to touch you. “Just yours.”

“And don’t fucking forget it.” Danny’s voice drops into a growl, making you whimper. “I’m the only one who gets you like this. You’re fucking mine, baby. Mine and mine alone.”

Another gasp falls from your lips, nodding your head even though you know he can’t see. Your cock is hard and aching, but you move your fingers away from where you’ve been circling it, going lower and lower until you reach your entrance.

“Danny…” You groan, squeezing your eyes shut as you wait for him to keep talking, to keep bringing you closer to the edge.

“You’ve got no idea how crazy it makes me to see how people look at you. Makes me wanna put a collar on you, fucking let everyone know who you belong to.” There’s a grunt from the other side of the phone, slick noises punctuating every breath Danny takes. “Or maybe the next time you wanna act like a whore, I’ll make you wear that little red dress in your closet. You know the one, don’t you?”

You groan out a noise of confirmation, chest swelling up when he hums in approval.

“I’ll bring you out to Walleyes with me after work, and I’ll fuck you in the bathroom. I know how dirty sluts like you want it, don’t worry. I’ll make sure to fill you up real good before sending you off to dance. Without your panties, of course. Gotta see if you can keep my come in without it dripping out. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? I know I would. Letting everyone know how fucking good I breed my baby.”

Your hole clenches around nothing, desperately seeking out something to fill it as Danny spews filth into your ear. Pretending it’s Danny, you slowly push in a single digit. It’s not nearly enough to satisfy, but that’s nothing you aren’t used to.

Adding another finger gives you a bit of a stretch, but it pales in comparison to how Danny’s fingers would feel. His hand dwarfs yours, his fingers long and thick and perfect for curling up at just the right angle.

“S’not enough.” You groan as you thrust into yourself, but it’s hardly a groan of pleasure.

“What’s not enough?”

“My fingers, it’s-” Another groan comes from your lips, but this time it’s filled with frustration. You’ve been pent up all day, even though you just saw Danny the night before. And yet you still can’t satisfy yourself. Not by yourself, anyway.

You know you could come in a matter of minutes if you really wanted to. From your fingers pressed against your cock. It’s how you usually get off, rubbing one out quickly. Rarely do you try and fuck yourself, only dipping down to collect some of your wet and use it to make your cock nice and slick to finish yourself off.

But those orgasms are bland. Fun, of course, but not what you really want. You want the thigh shaking, eye rolling, screaming orgasm that you know can only come from being properly fucked.

Little tears of frustration well up in your eyes as you adjust your hips, trying and failing to find a better angle. “It’s just not enough.”

“Baby,” Danny coos mockingly, his deep voice vibrating through the phone. “You don’t have anything else to fill you up? No toys?”

Your first instinct is to snap back at him, but you refrain, biting down on your tongue instead. It’s embarrassing, how needy you feel. But your desire’s rolling off of you in waves of heat, and it’s a thirst you can’t quench on your own.

“Don’t make fun of me,” You mumble, pressing the side of your face into your pillow. “S’not my fault…”

“Are you pouting?” Danny’s voice is a shade away from being more condescending than you can bear, his tone unlawfully sweet. You can tell he’s talking through a grin. “Fucking yourself while pouting? Fuck, angel. You’re too much.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Your voice cracks halfway through the sentence, but it’s not from the way you're grinding your hips. The lump in your throat and the tears in your eyes don’t do anything but make you feel stupid, so fucking stupid that a part of you wants to hang up right then and there. As delicious as his voice is, you crave your boyfriend’s touch more than phone sex.

“Darling, are you crying?”

You sniffle, shaking your head. You’re too far gone, too lost in your head to realize he won’t be able to see you. After a moment, you hear Danny chuckle. It’s too much, your face is burning something fierce and you can’t handle anymore embarrassment. With a click, you hang up the phone, pulling your fingers out of yourself and cramming your face properly into the pillow.

A minute passes in silence, before you hear the sound of your phone trilling next to you. You pick it up before it can get to the second ring, fully ready to apologize for acting like such a baby. It was supposed to be a sexy thing, not something so dramatic.

“Danny?”

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

You roll over, facing the ceiling with a pinched expression. “I-“

“I’ll be over in thirty.”

“Minutes?” You sit completely upright, clutching onto your phone like a vice.

“Be ready for me, Angel. ”

Your heart jolts in your chest when the line cuts out, and you immediately drop your phone back onto the receiver. You slap your hand over your face, covering up the grin that’s started to grow.

You didn’t expect Danny to be so… down? Especially so late at night, when he has work in the morning, nonetheless. Jumping off the bed, you rush to your dresser, grabbing the folded robe on top of it.

You slip your arms through the sleeves before turning to face the mirror, eyes darting across your body. It’s a simple little thing, something vintage and pretty that caught your eye when you were shopping for clothes a while back. It’s light blue, made from silky satin that hardly reaches your upper thighs and delicate white lace that kisses the hem of the fabric. You tie the robe shut at the small of your waist, looping the sash into a messy bow at the front.

There’s a knock at your door the second you finish looking yourself over, making you nearly jump out of your skin in surprise. You leave your bedroom in a rush, but as you pass by the living room to get to the front door, you pause. Licking your lips, you shoot a glance towards the grandfather clock. Hardly five minutes had passed since he called you.

There was no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place that fast. The excitement in your chest pops, deflating like a sad balloon as you approach the front door, leaning forward with your hands against the wood. When you look through the keyhole, you frown. There’s no one in sight.

“Probably just kids messing around…” You murmur, fiddling with sash at your waist.

But before you can turn away from the door, something leather slams over your mouth, and your cheek is being shoved up against the wood. You try to kick back at whoever grabbed you, but it’s no use. They have an iron grip, and all fighting back gets you is their front shoved against your back, holding you tight against the front door.

You can’t move your hands with the way they’ve been trapped between your body and the door, no matter how hard you struggle against it. They release your mouth, but you’re still too stunned to speak. It’s only then, when you feel the sharp end of a blade press against your thigh, that you realize how vulnerable you are.

“My boyfriend’s gonna be home any minute now.” You grit out as they put the tip of their knife against your sensitive inner thigh. They press hard, hard enough to break skin if you don’t open your legs wider, so you’re forced to move with it. “He’s big and tall and he’ll-“ You’re breath hitches as the person behind you trails the knife up, getting closer and closer to the space between your legs. “He’s a scary motherfucker and he’ll fucking kill you if you touch me!” Your voice breaks as you shout, and to your surprise, the person actually pulls the knife away.

The chuckle that comes next, low and familiar, surprises you as well.

“A ‘scary motherfucker’?” It’s Danny’s voice that greets you, his lips kissing the shell of your ear as he speaks. “Hmm. I guess I am.”

“Danny,” You breathe out, the fear leaving your body like a tidal wave. “What the fuck are you-“

One of his gloved hands cuts you off again before you can finish your sentence, pressing tight against your mouth. His other hand slides eagerly between your legs, slipping inside you without warning.

“You know I don’t like being hung up on.” His voice was far from what you were familiar with, low and grating in your ear. The laugh that follows it equally as foreign. “Ha… should’ve know that you’d get wet from that, fucking slut.”

Like you’re any better, you try to growl, but the leather trapping your mouth makes it impossible to speak, your words coming out in muffled irritation instead.

He laughs, kicking your legs further apart with one of his heavy boots. With a slick sound that makes you blush, he removes his fingers from your slit.

The zipper on his pants hardly makes a noise as he frees himself, but it’s enough to make you press back against him by instinct alone. He moves his hand away from your mouth, pressing his palm against your upper back instead, keeping you pinned to the wall.

You gasp out- something warm and hard pressing up against your entrance. He laughs as he slots his cock between your thighs, right up against your sex, dragging the head along your hardness.

“Danny,” You moan, arching your back and wiggling your hips, hoping to angle it just enough so that he slips inside of you. He’s never taken you like this before, even though you know he’s wanted to, and the rush of it nearly makes your head spin.

“Hmm?” He asks, voice terribly calm for the situation. “What is it? Do you wanna stop?” And just as easily as he started, he pulls back. Grunting a bit before the zipper on his pants is pulled back up. “C’mere.”

You want to cry all over again, so desperately close to getting what you need and yet so far all the same.

“I didn’t mean sto-“

You cut yourself off with a noise of surprise as he grabs you by the hair, pulling you around harshly and forcing you to face him. After he lets go, he takes a few steps back, leather boots thudding heavy against the wooden floor.

You open your mouth, but whatever words you want to say die on your tongue as he reaches out, touching your cheek. The back of his knuckles brush delicately against your cheekbone.

Your stomach does somersaults as he looks you over, taking your body in full. His hand moves down, tracing the outline of your waist through the robe. You can hardly feel his touch, but it makes you shiver all the same.

“I must be the luckiest guy,” Danny murmurs as he takes hold of the end of the bow tying your robe together, slowly pulling it until it comes undone. He lets your robe fall open, the night air cool on your front, and slips his hand inside the fabric to stroke your hip. “To have such a pretty baby.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the praise, but Danny doesn’t let it slide. He takes you by the chin, the pad of his gloved thumb stroking the skin under your lower lip.

“You know that, right?” He nods your head for you, gently tilting your head up and down. You open your eyes, brows slightly furrowed, only to meet his smile. “There we go, pretty thing. Always so ready for me… Always so good…”

You push up on your tiptoes, pressing yourself further into Danny’s touch. You don’t say a word as you slip your hands under his leather jacket, running along the fabric of his shirt before going under it as well. Your lips quirk up when you feel his abdomen tighten, straining with the muscle you already know is there. You trail one of your hands down, letting a stray finger hook into his belt loop.

“Rode all this way,” You murmur, ignoring the way your gut squirms with confusion. There’s no way Danny could’ve gotten to your place so fast, not even if he was speeding the whole way. “And you won’t even kiss me…”

Danny snorts, his hand turning tight on your hip, gripping you hard. “That’s all you want?” He leans down to press his lips against yours, so soft it makes your heart ache.

It’s the contrast with him. The push and pull. So hot and eager one minute, yet so cold and distant the next. But his lips are sweet and kind against yours, and you can’t bring yourself to pick at the scabs of question that litter your relationship with him.

When he pulls back, his voice is rough against your mouth, lips moving like butterfly kisses against yours. “Just one kiss?”

You unzip his jeans in response, nipping at his lower lip when he chuckles.

“Mmhm. That’s what I thought.”

In a quick motion, Danny wraps one arm under your thigh and the other tight around your waist, hoisting you up like you weigh nothing. You nearly yelp at him, your hands slipping out from under his shirt. Before you have the chance to respond, he has your back pressed up against the door once again.

He kisses you with ferocity you’ve never felt from another. Licking into your open mouth, he waits for you to moan before biting down on your lower lip. You grab a fistful of his hair, yanking down when he sinks his teeth down into it again.

Danny works his way down from your lips, sucking dark bruises on your neck and jawline. You gasp and let go of his hair, grabbing onto the back of his neck instead.

“Danny,” You try to speak but the second you start, he’s biting down hard. Right under your jawline, where he knows you’re most sensitive, making you melt into a gasping mess.

He pulls back by a fraction, leaving his lips to rest against the mark he’s made. You can feel the smile on his lips when he speaks, low and so gravely that you swear you can feel it thrumming through your throat. “What was that?”

You laugh, something that starts out soft but turns breathless once he replaces his lips with his tongue. “Choke me,” You rush, as if you’re worried you might forget if he keeps going. The tongue on your neck disappears, and doubt flashes in your mind. “If you want.” You clarify, just as fast. “You can if you want, I mean. I… I don’t mind.”

“Is that right, baby? You don’t mind?”

You nod your head as he adjusts his hips, keeping you stable against the wall so he can pull away from your neck. The look on his face is diabolical, and if you weren’t being held up you’re sure it would be enough to send you to your knees.

“Wanna know what I think?”

You lick over your kiss-bitten lips and nod.

“I think my baby’s a fucking freak.” His hand goes around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure. You press into the touch, exhaling through your nose. Your cheeks are on fire, butterflies batting their wings in your stomach.

“I just... I-” Your stammer is cut off by the hand on your throat tightening, stopping the words before they can fall from your tongue.

Your eyes widen as Danny leans in, propping up his thigh to keep you up against the wall. His hand slides down then, squeezing the inner of your upper thigh. You know where he’s going, and let out a shaky exhale, wrapping your legs tighter around him in anticipation. When he touches you, you bite your lower lip.

“You’re still dripping,” Danny sing-songs, dragging two fingers through your folds. He avoids your cock, but just him touching you is enough for you to groan. “I’d say you’re even more wet now.”

Your eyes bulge as he flexes his arm muscles, the veins on his forearm straining from the pressure. The ease at which he can cut off your breath should scare you, but all you can process is the heavy, humid heat that’s filling up your mind. You don’t struggle for breath, you don’t need to yet, but you do open your mouth when he squeezes even tighter.

“It’s so hot,” He groans, pressing forward until his arm is trapped between both of your chests, and his mouth is panting against your ear. “Feeling how bad you need me,”

If his fist wasn’t wrapped around your throat, you would’ve whined. You can feel his heavy puffs of air on the side of your face, and how his chest moves with every ragged breath. You tilt your hips up, trying to get him to move his fingers down. You’ve been waiting so long, and all you want is to feel him inside you. But he just chuckles, presses closer, stilling your hips.

“Desperate,” Danny rasps. “Fucking slut, can’t come unless I’m inside you?”

Your cheeks burn, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You’re nearly spaced out, your head beginning to spin from the lack of oxygen.

“So fucking wet for it, so wet for me,” He inhales shakily, like he’s trying to pull himself together, before letting you breathe again.

You suck in a deep breath, head spinning from the sudden rush of oxygen. He keeps his hand on your throat, not tight enough to choke, but just enough to serve as a reminder of what he could do. Danny presses further up against you, crushing you into the door as he slips a digit inside your heat.

“Oh,” You groan as he adds another, curling them upwards as his thumb starts to massage your cock. “Danny,”

He doesn’t respond, too far gone to speak as he watches you. His eyes are dark and open wide, with an unfamiliar, wild glint in them. The way he works you feels the same, rough and fast, almost in time with his heavy pants.

“You’re driving me crazy,” He grunts, squeezing your neck. “Having you like this-” he cuts himself off with a deep inhale before pulling out completely.

Before you have the time to complain, he’s grabbing you by the hips again, walking a few feet over to the kitchen table, and slamming you down onto it. Your back thuds when it hits the old wood, your eyes wide with shock. He shoves your legs apart, grabbing you by the thighs so he can drag you closer to him.

The skillful way he unbuckles and unzips his pants could almost seem calm if it wasn’t betrayed by the near frantic look in his eyes. He only gets his jeans undone enough to pull his cock out before grabbing you again, pulling until your ass is almost hanging over the table, and thrusting into you.

You can’t be embarrassed by the noise he drags from your throat, something high and strangled and fuck, you know that if it wasn’t for him stretching you out before, he’s big enough that it would’ve hurt. He doesn’t speak as he thrusts, fucking you as you’ve never been fucked before. He’s like a man on the brink, his hands gripping you hard enough to leave bruises.

There’s a moan stuck in your throat, some words too. An assortment of garbled sentences, but each thrust punches them right out until you’re being pounded into a whining, half-crying mess. He’s hitting all the right places, angling his hips just right, and slamming into you until you see stars.

It’s only after you get close, your thighs shaking and straining with the effort, that Danny grabs your throat, squeezing hard as he slows down his thrusts. “If I had my way, I’d keep you like this all the time.”

You swallow back another moan, your eyes still wide when they meet his.

“So wet and open, like you were fucking made for me.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust, hard and slow. His hand turns to a fist, cutting off your airflow. “Gonna give you what you need, gonna take good care of my baby,” Danny moves his hand from your thigh to your waist, ghosting over your stomach. “And if you’re good, I might even fuck one into you.”

Your back arches as you come, his words are all you need to go right over the edge. Black ebbs away at your vision as Danny fucks you through it, hard and fast, choking you as you writhe on his cock. He’s set the pace now, and keeps it steady even as you come back down into your body. It’s nearly too much, but you can’t find the strength to articulate your words.

His hand leaves your throat, but only to trail down your chest, moving to your navel. His fingers find your cock easily, and you yelp in some sort of mix between pain and pleasure. It’s too much, and you arch your back off the table, shimming your hips, doing anything to escape his touch. It’s fire, his touch. Blinding, painful, but so damn hot you can’t help but crave more.

It lasts for years, the constant mix between pain and pleasure. The digit on your cock only lets up once Danny’s breathing turns to pants, sweat beading on his forehead. His hips stutter, slowing down for a moment before gripping your hips with a sudden, newfound intensity. Your skin pales where he’s applied pressure, slamming you down hard onto his cock.

“Angel,” Danny groans, fucking into you once, twice, three times. He comes with a growl, his eyes never shutting as he rides out his pleasure.

There’s a whine in your throat, spilling from your lips just as he fills you up. You’ve never done this without a condom before, but now that you have, you don’t know how you could ever go back to wrapping it up. He leans back, still inside you, catching his breath. Sucking in greedy lungfuls as you watch, your chest heaving with the same intensity.

When he moves to pull out, you grab both of his wrists, not giving him the option of letting go of your hips.

“Wait,” You murmur, pulling him in closer. There’s no real strength behind it, but Danny humors you all the same. You bring one of his hands up to your cheek and nuzzle into it, peppering a few light kisses on his knuckles.

He leans forward, and you kiss him softly, both of you smiling into it. You free his hands, having gotten what you wanted, and he moves them to trail down your chest, caressing your sides. He leaves one to rest on your belly, the other one moving to the side of your neck.

“You really liked that, huh?” Danny asks quietly, his voice a low whisper against your skin.

“Shut up.”

He huffs, kissing the side of your head in what you can tell is exasperation.

A part of you wishes you could stay like this forever. It makes you feel safe, having Danny surrounding you so fully. It makes you feel loved. But the smarter part of you knows that he has to be up at six tomorrow morning, and you don’t know if he’ll stay once you fall asleep. If you’re already in the bedroom, clinging to him under the covers, he’ll stay the night. But if you doze off on the kitchen table, you know he’ll only tuck you into bed before leaving.

“Bed?” You ask, looking up at Danny with half lidded eyes. You can feel the fondness in his gaze as he stares down at you, waiting a few seconds before nodding.

“Yeah baby. C’mere.”

His hands are gentle as they slide over your body, and you have to stop him before he can try and carry you himself.

“I can walk, you know. I’m not gonna break.” You try to chastise, but a smile breaks through your facade. He grins back, lips spreading to reveal teeth, sharp and as deadly as ever. But his lips are soft, plush against your skin and gentle in a way that is too hard for your muddled mind to try and describe. “You know that first hand.”

Danny slips his arms around you once more, chuckling softly against your skin. “I sure do.” He leans up, taking you into his arms as he straightens out his body. “It’ll take a lot more to break you, darling. I know that first hand.”

He carries you to bed with your face tucked into the crook of his neck and your arms slung loosely around his shoulders, and he only needs one arm to pull back the sheets, keeping the other around your waist, before laying you down and tucking you in.

“Stay?” The space between your thighs is sore, and your voice is hoarse from his hand wrapped around your neck. But you amplify it just a bit, making your voice a bit more gravely than it ought to. You have to stay. you’re trying to convey. Look what you’ve done to me, you can’t just leave me like this.

He shucks off his jeans and jacket before slipping in beside you. Warming your bed like he has all the times before, with his arms around you and his face buried in your hair.

You shut your eyes to the sound of him murmuring, and even though you can’t quite hear what he’s saying, you repeat the words back on instinct.

“Love you too, Danny. Love you forever.”

597 notes · View notes

yellowsocialbunny · 7 months

Text

targaryen sims pt. IV

Princess Saera Targaryen was a pretty girl. She was taller than her sister Daella. Saera was a fierce and stubborn young girl who thrived upon attention and became bad-tempered whenever she did not receive any. It was difficult to resist Saera when she wanted to be charming. Saera quickly learned how to get anything she wanted from her father. However, she could not as easily manipulate her mother, Queen Alysanne. Although her eldest two brothers, Aemon and Baelon, were always amused by Saera's mischiefs, they never knew the worst of them, and according to Septon Barth, Saera's sisters all disliked her to various degrees.

Princess Viserra Targaryen was the most beautiful of Queen Alysanne Targaryen's daughters. She had deep purple eyes and silver-gold hair, flawless white skin, and fine features. Viserra was a vain girl. Once, when a young squire called her a goddess, she simply agreed with him. Viserra was also a wild, high-spirited girl. She was described as sly, and had a grace that was uncanny and unsettling in someone as young as she was.

Princess Gael Targaryen was the thirteenth and last child of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen and Queen Alysanne Targaryen. Born during winter, Gael was also called the Winter Child. As a babe, Gael was small and pale. She grew to be a shy and sweet girl, although simple-minded and frail.

descriptions by A Wiki of Ice and Fire

#asoiaf sims #asoiaf #targaryen sims project #house targaryen #daella targaryen #saera targaryen #viserra targaryen #gael targaryen

31 notes · View notes

proserpina-magnus · 3 years

Note

Hiii it’s me, the regulus simp again- back with another Regulus x fem!reader requestt where the reader has always wanted to play the piano, and the slytherin common room just happens to have one and Regulus just happens to know how to play the piano and she hears him playing so she comes to listen and she has synesthesia so she describes to him what she sees (like colors etc) andd maybe some ultra fluff where he tries to teach her to play it💖💖✨✨ also hope your day is going well and you’re drinking water and getting enough vitamin D because you’re important <3

I LOVED WRITING THIS, IT WAS SO CUTE. LITERALLY THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING THIS ( it made me feel better after writing the angst fic ). Also, I hope you are eating and staying healthy and safe! xoxo.

One where he teaches you how to play the Piano

Word count: 2619

[ Warning: fem!reader, fluff, strangers to lovers, first kiss, some sexual tension (not really though), hand holding, petnames such as “love” and “pretty lady/girl” ]

You pressed your ear to the door, hearing the angelic music come from the piano in the Slytherin common room. You tried your best to stay away, but you somehow always made your way to listen outside the door.

The person who played always came to the piano after supper on Wednesday nights, occasionally they would come to play on the weekends as well. You never caught a glimpse of the person, you always ran off before they noticed you were there.

Here you were, ear pressing so close to the slightly opened room as you listened to the sweetest melody you have ever heard. Your brain fogged with clarity, it felt like paradise.

A smile tugged on your face, but it quickly fell when the door leaned forward and you came tumbling into the almost empty common room.

The walls were made of bricks, making you wonder what it would feel like to slide your fingers along the creases. Your knees hit the floor, hands extended as you hear a slight cracking noise. You cringe at this simple scenario you have fallen into, how could you have possibly been so naive and fall right through the door?

The piano came to a stop when you fell, the musician taking a look towards the intruder. You stare at the ground with wide eyes, feeling too embarrassed to look up at them.

"Are you alright?" His voice was deep and delicate, much how you imagined it would sound. You look up, realizing his voice wasn't the only thing delicate about him. His face was shaped like a god, high cheekbones with thinning plain lips. You took a moment to stare at his beauty, never knowing a person could look so lovely.

"Excuse me?" He repeated himself, standing from the oak bench. His hand came into view, you took his long fingers into yours, feeling him pull you up. His hand was cold to the touch, but it only reminded you of the snowy owls you see flying.

"I'm sorry, it's just you play the piano so well, I guess I got distracted and fell... through the door," you explained, embarrassed. You took your hand from his, looking around the space accompanying you both. Everyone was out for a Hogsmeade trip, but you had stayed because you heard the piano.

"Oh," he responded, you look back up towards him, noticing his taller height. You looked over his outfit, seeing his well-tailored fit. His shoes were sparkling, making you look at your own dusted ones.

"Do you play the piano?" The musician asked, trying to get you to stay and talk for a few more minutes. You looked back up, shaking your head sadly.

"I wish, I just never gotten the opportunity to learn," you tell him, looking towards the piano left unoccupied. He watched you, making you look up towards him.

"What is your name?" He asked, taking a step back to give you some room. You fiddled with your skirt.

" [ name ] [ last name ], and you?" You asked, your eyes continuing to look towards the empty piano. He followed your gaze, a small smile on his lips.

"I'm Regulus Black, would you like me to teach you how to play the piano?" Regulus asked, tilting his body to invite you towards the piano. You instantly took a step with him, both of you walking towards the bench. He sat first, patting the spot beside him.

"Will you?" You asked, an excited tone in your voice. He patted the seat again, giving you another small smile.

" Of course, I always have time for a pretty lady," Regulus replied, his words making your stomach flutter. You sank down onto the oak bench, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'm a complete amateur, I don't even know the chords," You reason with him, blinking your eyes as you look towards the piano keys.

"That's alright, we all start somewhere," Regulus says, his fingers placing themselves against the white keys, pressing them together to make an angelic sound. You're reminded of a viridian green from the nice tone.

"Here, place your fingers against these keys," Regulus explains, letting you raise your hands before taking your fingers and placing them against the keys. You eagerly press the key, a sage green colour filling your mind.

Regulus watched you with tender eyes, seeing as you got so fascinated with the small chord. You instantly pressed another one, trying to follow the same melodies he had showed you.

Your spine tingled when a horrible chord was pressed, making the melody remind you of the colour cinnamon brown. You scrunched your shoulders, pulling your fingers back.

"Hey, you've almost got it and I haven't even taught you yet, don't give up now," Regulus effused, his fingers gently grabbing yours as he placed them back over the keys.

He dragged your fingers through keys, playing the melody through you. You’re reminded of the viridian green again, seeing new colours flash through with each key being played.

"Your turn now," Regulus says, his fingers rest over yours for a while longer than normal, before tearing them away to place them on his knees. You give him a look, only being met with a comfortable expression.

You tap the keys slowly, remembering the colours and placements. Before you know it, you've completed a slowed version of the melody. Your heart jumps, excited to get it right.

"Yes, that's good! Your learning quicker than I thought, are you sure you've never played before?" He asked, leaning his head to the side. You watched his hair tilt with his head, gentle curls framing his face. You snap out of it, answering his question.

"I see colours, with each note. It's hard to explain, but when I hear things I get reminded of objects or colours, does that make sense?" You ask, feeling slightly exposed to admit your thought process. Regulus pressed his lips together, analyzing you. You feel stupid, but that feeling flows away with his next words.

"You have synesthesia?" Regulus concluded, but he asked it more like a question. You nodded your head, a small smile on your face.

"Yeah. You're familiar with the term?" You asked him, tilting your head back to the piano. Regulus kept looking at you, interpreting his final thoughts. Nothing terrible could ever possibly come from a person like her, Regulus concluded.

“I am. I heard a Professor mention it once, always stuck with me after,” Regulus explained, just as he finished talking, someone walked into the common room. You both turned your head to look, not realizing you had been infatuated with his eyes.

“Am I interrupting something?” The Slytherin teased, his eyes switching between the two of you in a suggested way. You turn your head slightly, a blush against your cheeks.

“Yes, you are,” Regulus stated plainly, flashing his eyes towards you. His hand came to your back, holding it gently. You couldn’t have flushed red any faster, your face felt like it was on fire.

“Oh,” The boy said, not expecting that response.

“It’s alright,” you chimed in, but the boy only waved his hand and walked towards the steps to the boy's dormitory. You felt foolish, you didn’t want to upset the boy.

“Don’t worry about him, he was teasing me, you’ve done nothing wrong, my love,” Regulus responded, turning his body back to face the piano, but he kept his gaze on you.

“You know him?” You perked up, looking up towards his eyes. He gave a smile, finding your embarrassed state adoring.

“Yes, he’s one of my dorm mates,” Regulus told you, leaning closer. His hand rubbed your lower back softly, soothing you.

“Oh, well that makes me feel better,” you retorted, eyes turning towards the piano. You placed your hands back onto the keys, giving him a side look. “May we continue?”

“Of course,” Regulus replied, his hand leaving your back. You felt cold without his hand but shook it off as you started to play the melody again. This time, you played it a bit quicker. You still missed some important keys, but Regulus just responded with a faint, “don’t worry, I know you’ll get it soon,”

“Can you explain what colours you see each note you play? He asked after you finished playing a slowed version of the melody. You nodded, moving your fingers to the first key.

“The thinner notes remind me of warm colours and the deeper notes are cold colours. For instance, this one reminds me of a pale yellow,” you say, pressing the higher sounding key. A ping sounded through the room before you moved your fingers to the second note.

“This one is... like a blue sky kind of colour,” You go on, explaining colour after colour. Before you know it, you reach the end of the melody.

“What does this note remind you of?” Regulus asked, pressing one of the deeper notes. You look at his dark green tie, wiggling your fingers to hold the thin material. You tug at his tie gently, signalling him to look towards it.

“It sounds like this colour,” You contort, smiling as you let go of his tie and use your palm to make it neat again. Regulus coughs from the back of his throat, shifting in his seat. You realize how insane you must be, touching the tie of a guy you just met.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have touched you,” You say sheepishly. You look up towards Regulus, but he’s turned his head, you see the faint glow of a red on his cheeks. He brings his hand to hold his face, hiding it swiftly to try and calm himself.

“It’s fine,” he mumbles into his hand, he shivers before steadying himself. Regulus turns his head back, keeping his eyes away from yours.

A growing awkward silence fills the room, looking away from each other. You grab the oak bench cushions, pressing your feeling into it through your hands. You rock back slightly, but you feel him move closer to you, his arm brushed against yours.

“Do you think you’ve perfected the melody yet?” Regulus asked his sweaty hands on his knees. He rubbed his thighs, trying to wipe the sweat away. He felt like a nervous wreck.

“I think so,” you say, moving your hands as you place them against the starting keys. You wait for a second, before pressing the keys. You go on with the melody, getting each key right. Your fingers move over the white ivory keys, the viridian green filling your mind again.

“You’re so pretty,” Regulus lets the words slip out, his eyes filled with this type of adoration as he watches you. You snap your head to look towards him, gulping slightly. The melody falls short, your fingers stopping.

“I’m sorry, I should have said that,” Regulus quickly covers up, his ears red as he can’t keep his darkened eyes from yours.

“Not that you aren’t pretty, because you most definitely are! I just shouldn’t have told you, we’ve just met and I don’t want to be a creep,” Regulus goes onto explain, feeling embarrassed himself as he fumbled over his words.

“That’s okay! I don’t mind, I think you’re pretty as well,” You replied, looking over his sculpted features again. Regulus gave you a slanted look, he has never been called pretty before.

“I mean... handsome, you’re just really mesmerizing is what I mean,” you stumble over your words, feeling your ears start to heat up, the tips red.

“Thank you,” He responded, his body leaning closer to yours. He shakes out of it before he can lean any closer, your breath slipping from the shared moment. He turned back to the piano, placing his ring clasped fingers against the keys.

“Shall I teach you another melody?” Regulus asked, looking over. You nodded, sitting back into the backless bench. You watched as he looked towards the keys, eyes closed slightly. His eyelashes fell perfectly over his cheeks as he played the new melody.

Your mind flooded with the colour deep sea blue, the chords sounded so mellow. Once the melody came to an end, he turned to look towards you.

“It’s your turn now,” Regulus states, your fingers coming to replace his. You feel uncertain, you had been distracted by Regulus's beauty, you hadn’t watched his hand placement.

You press the first key, a deep sound flowing through you. The pleasant sounds didn't last long because you had played the wrong key, making the melody uneven. You give a sheepish look towards Regulus.

“It’s alright, let me take you through the placements again,” Regulus comforts quickly, his hands coming to rest over yours. He directs your fingers back to the starting keys. Regulus moves his body, tilting it weirdly.

“Here, let’s stand up,” He says, helping you stand before pushing the bench back to give you both room. His body comes behind yours, his hands placing yours back over the piano keys.

“Is this okay?” Regulus asks his whispers sending tingles through your spine. You nod slightly, your body leaning back into his. “Yes,”

Regulus starts to help you press the keys, taking you through the beautiful melody again. His hand are much bigger than yours, covering them from view. His cheek brushes against your hair, almost nuzzling closer to you.

When the melody ends, he stays still. You both don’t move, his hands over yours, his breath fanning over your ear in a calming way. Your heart beats faster, turning around slightly. Your lips part, tilting your head back to look up at him.

“Can I kiss you?” Regulus whispered, his eyes switching between your eyes to your lips. You nod quickly, words getting stuck in your throat.

“Close your eyes,” he instructed, watching as you close your eyes shut. You felt your face boil, feeling a nervous nausea wash over you.

His knuckle brushed your warm cheek, before his fingers cupping your jaw softly. You leaned up on your toes, your hand on his chest. Regulus pulled himself down, his lips meeting yours.

You leaned further on your toes, pressing yourself closer. It felt so new, being in this secret moment together made you pull him closer, wanting it to last forever.

He felt rich, the placement of his cold hands, the way his lips tasted like mint. you grabbed his coat, fingers squeezing around the fabric. You leaned back down, breaking the kiss. You let your eyes fall looking at his shiny shoes.

“Hey, look at me pretty girl,” Regulus said with a gentle voice, his fingers lifting your jaw. Your eyes met his again, your stomach filling with butterflies. He had a grin on his face, his once pale cheeks filled with colour.

“Would you like to go on a date with me? There is a wonderful restaurant just outside of Hogsmeade, I would like to converse with you more,” Regulus invited you. You nodded your head, feeling foolish once again for not using your words.

“I would love to,” you choked out, you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling and neither could Regulus.

Regulus frowned when he took a look at his watch, he leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“I have to go, I’m meeting up with a professor,” Regulus said sadly, holding you close before letting you slip away from his hands. “I’ll see you on our date?”

“of course,” you agreed, watching as he gave a small gorgeous smile before slipping out of the Slytherin common room.

You sat on the nearby couch, resting your head in your hands as you let out a satisfied squeal. This day, could not have gone any better.

#regulus black #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black blurb #regulus black fluff #marauders #marauders era #regulus black oneshot #regulus black headcanons #harry potter fanfiction #marauders era one shot

578 notes · View notes