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silkjade · 4 months

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WICKED DRAGON, LAY WASTE TO ME

⤀ synopsis: neuvillette has always been the gentlest of lovers—and so tonight you ask him not to hold back ⤀ cw: afab!reader, unprotected + rough sex, size kink, praise, overstimulation, breeding + creampie, marking, monsterfucking (dragon cock), cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, dumbification, mentions of mates, lil bit of dom!neuvi (??) but he is still sweet — mdni || ꒰ 8.4k wc ꒱ a/n: leviathan fic for leviathan neuv ( i’m not talking abt his constellation ) rbs + feedback are always vry much appreciated ♡

“Well? What do you think?” You come home, twirling before him in a gown, different than the one you had left in. The short hem at the front lifts mischievously, teasing just a peek of what lies underneath, while the longer, flouncing layers of skirts behind you, wrap flirtatiously around your legs. Neuvillette feels his throat run dry.

“Navia and Clorinde thought it was high time I changed my look, and you know I can’t ever say no to Chioriya Boutique.”

While he’s spent the better part of the night reviewing court documents in the parlor, you have been out with Navia and Clorinde, who he thinks have perhaps plotted to kill him. ‘Girls’ night,’ you had called it.

Draped in a vivid palette of the finest fabrics, decorated interchangeably with delicate metalwork and dainty ribbons, the blush on his pale skin is ever-present as he rakes his eyes up and down your body. The dark, patterned stockings, squeezing your thighs just enough, so that supple flesh spills obscenely over the top, the tight, whale-boned embrace of your corset, accentuating the curves of your waist, and pushing upwards the swell of your breasts…

A coy smile graces your features when you catch how his throat bobs in his silence. Giggling, you lean down, tracing the tip of your finger up the contours of his neck, skimming the gentle curve beneath his chin until you’ve tilted his gaze to yours. “Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, got nothing to say?”

How can he even think, much less find the right words to say, when the familiar scent of your perfume fills his head with indecent, lascivious thoughts? Everything about you is intoxicating, almost insidiously attractive, so would it suffice to say that he’d much rather see your pretty, new dress abandoned somewhere on the floor?

That first pulse of arousal translates into the first twitch of his cock, and oh how he wishes to kiss away your teasing little grin, but his lust-driven eyes are drawn to the miniscule movements of your bodice sleeve, predatory as he watches how it begins to shift, ever so slowly, off your shoulders.

“If you don’t like it, then perhaps…” You loosely roll your shoulder, letting the sleeve slide right off. “…you’d like to help me undress?”

That, he will gladly do. His hands fly to your waist, dragging you down into a straddle over his hips.

“Temptress,” he murmurs into the skin of your neck, distracting you with a featherlight kiss as his nimble fingers waste no time in undoing the delicate clasps of your bodice, leaving the heavy outer garment to tumble off your shoulders, abandoned in a pile at your waist.

Cool air licks at the now exposed skin, though it’s nothing compared to the warmth of his lips as he slots his mouth against yours, gently coaxing you open with a subtle swipe of his tongue. Your eyes flutter shut in honeyed complacence, allowing Neuvillette to kiss you slow and sweet; impassioned, ardent, each kiss an oath of love and longing and lust.

Desire blooms like romaritime flowers upon water, and you just know the tension underneath his placid exterior, is ready to burst. It’s prevalent in the way his muscles grow taut, tense beneath your every touch, fighting to hold himself back as your legs squeeze around his hips. Demonstrated, again, by how he pulls apart your corset, impatient and haphazard as he unlaces each cross, before tossing it to the ground, forgotten. And of course, only you can attest to the searing sensations of his escalating kisses—gentle wisps, once faint and docile, now wanton and heated with depravity.

You can already feel it in your chest, in your bones, in the wetness that’s begun to form between your legs; maybe it’s the anticipation, but despite the layers of clothing you’ve already shed, you find it even harder now to breathe, especially as he holds you so close, body pressed against yours, while he traces the bare curve of your neck with his lips.

For one with such a carefully crafted visage of elegance and poise, Neuvillette becomes sloppier as his restraint fades and lust seeps through the cracks. Something about you drives him wild, draws out the more carnal side of him that he so desperately seeks to hide away from you, who he could never even dream of hurting.

But perhaps he’s spent too much time amongst humans. Or perhaps he understands their nature more than he had initially believed, for he makes the most human mistake of all in letting his control slip—enough that his fangs graze upon your sensitive skin, sending a shiver that reaches all the way down to your core, eliciting a moan so mellifluous, he cannot help but utter a sigh of strained content as the undeniably sweet sound reaches his ears.

“If we don’t stop now, I’m afraid I won’t be able to hold back,” he mutters, tongue laving over the spot in apology. It doesn’t help that you voluntarily crane your neck, offering him even more access in your heated bliss. His fingers dig into your waist in a silent plea to still your rolling hips.

“So don’t,” you breathe. “Don’t hold back tonight.” Desperate to have him closer, you arch into him, the loose material of his shirt firmly clasped in your hands, deepening the kiss with a quick tug, a silent request for him to let go, but he immediately halts his movements, pulling away in hesitance.

Oh Neuvillette. Your sweet Neuvillette, who in spite of his stern exterior, is the gentlest of lovers—always so tender with you and steadfast in placing your pleasure before his. You know of his draconic origins, know that he holds back in fear of hurting you, but for all the times he’s pleased you to the fullest extent, you only wish to do the same for him.

Your hand reaches to cup his face and he leans into your familiar touch, steely eyes soft. “It’s okay, I trust you.”

It’s already difficult denying you anything on a normal basis, so how can he, now that you sit, straddled over him, determination colored in your bright eyes, and with nothing but flimsy cloth left between the two of you. His eyes linger at your chest, the scooping neckline of your lace slip doing nothing to hide the smooth crests of your collarbones, begging to be marked.

Neuvillette sucks in a breath, and attempts to swallow his doubts, before exhaling. He can no longer ignore the tightness in his groin, and to you, it’s clear that the obvious erection poking from beneath his trousers, speaks much louder than the uncertainty storming in his eyes. Perhaps he just needs one more push…

Your fingers come to curve around the sharp lines of his jaw, unwavering as you tilt his head up into your gaze. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it.”

His heart threatens to leap out of his chest in a flash of excitement, gratitude, desire; it’s far from the first time you’ve lain together, but to choose to bear such vulnerability before him, to surrender yourself to a full-fledged dragon… He glides his hands over the round slopes of your shoulders, easily sliding off the straps of your slip as he goes. The silk garment collapses down your torso, piling atop your forgotten dress.

“If that is truly what you wish…” He presses an openmouthed kiss to the bare skin between your breasts, and the warmth of his breath runs a chill even colder than the night air. His whispers hide a growl, and despite the blush apparent at the tips of his pointed ears, his hold on your waist tightens. One hand slides down to grasp at your rear, and you can feel him smile against your lips, the rattle of a faint chuckle rippling in his throat before your breath hitches as he picks you up in his arms, and carries you off to the bedroom.

He sets you by your shared bed, tearing off his now wrinkled shirt, while you wriggle out of whatever’s left of your dress, until both sets of clothing are discarded somewhere on the floor, and you’re finally left in only your panties and your stockings.

Immediately, his hands find your waist, roaming up and down over your curves as he smothers you in hungry kisses, herding you along until the backs of your knees hit the edge of your shared bed. This Neuvillette nips at your bottom lip, not asking for, but demanding entrance into your mouth, and you have no choice but to let him in, what with the way he makes you whine as he sneaks his hands down to knead the globe of your ass, before lowering you onto the bed.

The tingling sensations bloom in your stomach, buzzing with excitement while you ready yourself to surrender completely—pliant to his will, whatever it may be. Arousal swallows you like the sea and he has yet to even really touch you. Impatient, your hand wanders, though not far down enough before you’re caught in his grasp.

“Patience…” he mutters, pinning your wrist beside your head, broad shoulders caging you in between him and the sheets. His other hand follows the natural lines of your body, tracing along the edges until he stops to fondle one of your breasts.

It’s impossible to relax your speeding heart at this side of Neuvillette: less reserved in his touches, more candid in his wants. The untreated heat in your body makes sure to touch on every part of you, running like water through your veins, until you’re sure your dripping cunt is pulsing with a heart of its own. Unable to stand the ache any longer, you wriggle beneath him—rolling your hips and squirming until your knee unwittingly brushes against his crotch, eliciting a choked grunt from him, only slightly muffled by the fact that his teeth have dug their way into your exposed flesh.

He immediately pulls away at the sound of your surprised yelp, eyes darting to and fro across your features in frantic search for even the smallest semblance of discomfort, completely missing the way your entire body had seemed to arch into his touch. His eyes finally settle at the light indentations now displayed upon your once unblemished skin.

“Forgive me,” he begins, “I should have been more careful.” Neuvillette is ever the gentleman, but his voice is clearly strained in a poor attempt at fighting back his instincts—instincts that demand a dragon to mark what is his.

“There’s nothing to forgive.” A soft smile graces your lips as your hand reaches to cradle his face, curling around his jaw in hushed reassurance. It’s so easy to read the thoughts that plague him so. “It felt good, I promise.”

True to your word, his heightened senses easily pick up on the scent of pure arousal that drifts from between your legs, swirling in the air, and lulling him into a state he’s kept buried for so long, he’s unsure of whether he’d be able to hold himself back even if he wanted to. He admires your bravery for daring to poke at the slumbering beast; bravery he knows stems from a place of passion, but how can he release such inhibitions upon a mere human? So physically… fragile.

“I meant what I said: I can take it. And I know you won’t hurt me so…” Your fingers clasp around his shoulders, pulling your lover down just far enough to whisper, low and sultry, in his pointed ear.

“Don’t you dare look down on me, o’ hydro dragon sovereign..”

You lurch forward, manicured nails drawing light lines down his bare back, and he meets you halfway in a long, drawn out kiss. A quiet growl rumbles from deep within his throat, clearly aroused by the way you had drawled out his full title. He nips at your bottom lip, dragging out a single, short gasp before leaving to trail wet kisses down the column of your throat, never stopping until his lips hover over the very spot where he had previously made his mark.

He doesn’t even have to touch you, just his presence, tangled with your own anticipatory excitement, invites a shudder so deep, you can feel it in your bones. The sharp edge of his fangs scrape along that still-sensitive patch of skin, lightly, as if testing the waters, though this time, he makes sure to take note of the quiver in your pretty little mewls.

Slowly, he bites down again and a moan slips past your lips, forced out from the very depths of your chest as your fingers fly to tangle in his moonridden tresses. His hot breath seeps past the barrier of your skin, leaving every nerve privy to his effect, and combined with the building pressure, you’re left open for the stream of soft whimpers that leave the perfect ‘o’ of your parted lips. As he sinks his teeth deeper, you squeeze your eyes shut in the midst of all the pleasure.

“Do it again,” you gasp, “felt good… ”

And oh, he has absolutely every intention to, what with the way you’re putty underneath him. However, he must do something about how distracting your hands are when you tug at his hair: hard enough for him to groan with an ache so wanton, it sends tremors echoing down until his trousers feel far, far too tight.

Neuvillette is neither here nor there when he alternates between kissing and sucking and biting at your tender flesh—anywhere is fair game when you’ve relinquished yourself to him like this. With how attentive his lips are along your body, you hardly even care for the absence of his hand when he reaches around to untie the ribbon in his hair… at least not until it’s too late and you're left bemused by the uncharacteristic display of boldness; after all, it’s all you can do when your wrists are suddenly so tightly bound overhead.

You whine as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, suckling and swirling his tongue, while he ravishes the other between his fingers. Heat surges through you and the aching desperation congregating in your belly begins to boil; you’ve never felt so sensitive, never been more pervasive to his touch.

Inside. You need him inside of you. But with your hands currently incapacitated, you’ve no other choice except to buck into him, beckoning him with your hips in the hopes of redirecting his attention to where you throb.

“Inside. Please. I need you. Need you inside.”

He hums in acknowledgement of your wishes, tugging at the hardened bud with his teeth, successfully wringing another shaky cry from your throat, before he finally pulls at the delicate lace of your panties, and guides them down the length of your legs. You easily kick them off, but in his observation, his piercing gaze catches every thrum of your muscles as they tense underneath the hand that finally trails between your thighs. He drags his lithe fingers between your folds, coating them in your slick, while his thumb rubs your clit in slow, but firm, circles.

“My apologies for the wait.” Neuvillette kisses you right above your heart, where his acute hearing easily picks up how it palpitates as he dips his fingers into your velvet walls. “Allow me to make amends, my love.”

With the way your cunt gushes so copiously, it’s easy for him to slide all the way down to the last knuckle. He flicks his wrist, pumping fast and hard, scissoring you open before slipping in a third digit, drawing out mewl after pathetic mewl, as you fail to pull yourself together. The bedsheets twist beneath your incessant movements: simultaneously squirming not only from the initial stretch, but also to feel him deeper.

The discomfort is all too familiar, but with just the curl of his fingers, it washes away into unadulterated pleasure, just as it always does. But with your arms tethered, leaving you open and powerless, everything—every touch, every twist, every curl—feels tenfold.

Plus, no one would even believe you if you were to say that the chief justice had such a playful side in the bedroom; his fingers have explored your insides far too many times for him to just miss the little spot that he definitely knows by muscle memory. Whining, you buck your hips, senselessly grinding into his hand, hoping he’d get the message, hoping he’d quell your heat right at the source.

But something dangerous and wild and primordial shines in the blue-violet glow of his eyes. For all the times you’ve made love together, he’s never seen you like this: so desperate, so needy for him. He pinches a nipple, hard, before locking your jolting hips down; a show of strength to remind you of your place.

“Please, more.” Your voice rises in congruence with how you struggle against your ribbon-bound wrists. His fingers tease the spot again, this time with more force, and he watches as you keen and clench around him—helpless and at his mercy.

With a curl, his fingers crook inside your silken walls, pistoning in and out, fast and hard. Arousal continues to build, turning the low squelches into distinct suctions. Every nerve in your body is ignited, seared by the heat as he laps at the overflowing wetness that seeps out of your entrance. A satisfied purr sounds in his throat, and the vibrations dare your hips to buck in spite of the iron grip that holds you down.

It thrills him to see you steadily fall apart like this, coming so undone before him, dissolving under the weight of your pleasure. It’s just as you had wanted. More. So you can take it, can’t you? You can take more?

Neuvillette slots your throbbing clit into his mouth, hot tongue relentlessly striking the swollen nub with viscous lashes, while his fingers continue to bully your insides with no intention of slowing down. Sucking harder, fucking faster—you keen at the added stimulation, back arching clean off the bed in blinding pleasure, unable to do anything more than let out jagged sobs as you cum.

Your entire body grows taut as he sees you through the end of this high, before finally drawing out with one last sleight of his hand, so that his fingertips might graze along the velvet top of your walls, bidding farewell with another shudder-inducing wave of euphoria. He exits his soiled digits, clearly pleased as he inspects the amount of slick that coats his elegant hand.

“You’re absolutely divine.” He hums whilst licking up the side of his wrist, so as not to waste a single drop of your liquid pleasure. It’s intoxicating how exquisite you are, more decadent than even the most pristine of waters. “Perhaps you’d like a taste?”

His offer is rhetorical at best, as he answers for you, already slipping his slender fingers into your open mouth, tangling them with your tongue, until the first bits of drool begin to dribble from your lips.

He unties your wrists, releasing them from the ribbon’s hold; time and experience have proven that you’ll need something to grasp onto. In a haste, Neuvillette discards what remains of his clothes, and his cock springs forward in all its glory: long and thick, pale tip leaking and thrumming with desire.

“You’re absolutely sure… ?” he mumbles, voice trailing off, almost embarrassed. He can no longer control the way his hips twitch in excitement, begging to bury his cock into your warmth, but for his gentle heart’s sake, he needs to hear you say it again.

You laugh out a soft ‘yes’ but just for good measure, you rake your nails down his chest, applying just enough pressure to tickle his nerves. “Use me,” you goad. “Come on. Be wicked, my dragon.”

Neuvillette exhales, chuckling softly at humanity's arrogance. Wicked dragon. If that was what you wanted... “I wonder if you’d still say the same after I’ve finished with you.”

He pins you back down in one fell move, and aligns himself to your entrance, stopping after inserting only the tip. A delicate whimper leaves your lips as you wince at that familiarly sweet stretch, but you and your little cunt are both so eager to please—the continued arousal you churn out, weeping nonstop, and already clenching around just his cockhead. You wriggle into him, trying to fuck yourself deeper on his fat cock as you adjust to his size.

Reaching up, you pull him into a seemingly reassuring kiss, hands smoothing over the framing pieces of his hair, before curving around his jaw. His lips follow yours, but as you pull away and the short pieces of his hair fall back into place, you notice how his slitted reptilian pupils are dilated almost round.

“You wish for me not to hold back,” his voice comes in a low growl as he inches further into your cunt, “so please show me how resilient you are.”

It’s all the warning you receive before he slides the rest of his length to the hilt, burying himself in your creamy insides. A shattered sob tears through the room, and your arms fly around his neck in a desperate attempt to anchor yourself, but it only pulls him closer as he leans more of his weight into you, pressing down and reinforcing the heavy plow of his merciless hips.

Taking him all at once like this burns like wildfire. Pain from the sudden, rough stretch spreads hot and fast, the small embers bursting into a blaze of arousal as pleasure breezes through just as quickly—like air infinitely adding to an already devouring flame.

“You’re taking me so well,” he praises, turning his head to reward a small kiss to your cheek. Your hole gushes, rushing to quell the heat, and the added lubrication helps you settle into his pace. Still, the dual sensations wash over you like the tide. It pulls you under, drowns you and consumes you with absolute ecstasy.

And just when you think you’ve grown accustomed, Neuvillette lifts your hips, aiming for the spot he knows will drag out the most wonderfully broken cries from your throat. Your nails dig into his back, and he groans at the vice grip as you clamp down around his cock. With each powerful thrust, he buries himself balls deep with a force that has your tits bouncing along to his rhythm, letting the wanton sound of your sobs ring throughout the room, loud enough to almost drown out the lewd noise of skin slapping upon skin.

The coil in your belly is wound so tight that you’re sure it won’t be long until it collapses into itself. That it won’t be long until you yourself are about to implode, like a star ready to burst.

“I’m going… going to…” Between the ragged breaths and the overwhelming sensations of ecstasy, you can’t even find it in yourself to think straight.

Neuvillette hums, his liquid smooth voice doing nothing to hide his amusement. “You’d do well not to break so soon.”

He thumbs your clit, drawing tight circles, ignoring the way you convulse beneath him. As your back arches, he drags the flat of his teeth from the edges of your collarbones, down through the valley between your breasts.

Your entire body quivers, legs jolting by reflex to the intensity of your orgasm, vision blurring white as your lover continues to pound relentlessly through your high. There’s a layer of fuzziness over your mind that leaves you feeling as if you’re floating atop calm waters, but the fingers still thrumming on your abused nub are quick to drag you back into the salaciously dangerous depths of your own pleasure.

A string of pitched whines follow in the aftermath, but the pretty noises you make has him throbbing even from within your tight hole. You ask him not to hold back, yet here you are before him, so small and pitiful, already writhing from the intensity—and he hasn’t even cum yet.

Tears threaten to fall from your eyes, your body struggling for a break from the stimulation, but Neuvillette finds it quite adorable, in the way that a predator might toy with its prey. He slows his thrusts, but reaches deeper with every roll of his hips, each languid stroke hitting the exact spot that fills your sight with stars.

The lascivious sounds of your soaked cunt perfectly swallowing his cock, followed by the slap of his heavy balls on your ass—he’s mesmerized by the way he disappears and reappears, and disappears again inside of you. His heart skips, and he bucks, breaking his rhythm. You undo him like no other, and it spurs him on that he too, seems to have the same effect on you. The way your pussy holds on to him so tightly, the helpless cries of his name amidst your hiccuped whimpering…

He lets out a small chuckle, breath hot and ragged in your ear as he sucks at the inch of skin below. “Surely you can give me another,” he murmurs, the low grumble of his voice reverberating all the way down, until you can feel the vibrations in the hollows of your collarbone.

Your eyes flutter, desperately blinking away the wetness that has begun to gather at your lash line. Sweet Neuvillette, your Neuvillette who reveres you more than he ought to and touches you like you’re made of glass. Even through the numbing haze, you know that for him, you’d give anything.

A long, stuttered moan breaks out from between your lips. As if biding his time, he drags the entirety of his cock along your walls, the large vein that wraps around the length gliding along just right, that your back arches and your knees bend. It’s not that he means to move so tortuously slow, but you squeeze him to such an extent that in spite of his aching need to cum, he cannot help but try and savor the delicious way your walls are gripping for dear life.

Neuvillette pulls out with the sticky squish of your slick. His throbbing cock, long and flushed, glistens with the sheen of your juices. In the emptiness, you think that perhaps he’s taken pity on you and your now overly sensitive cunt, but that just isn’t fair. Not to him, nor you and your once again looming orgasm.

“You haven’t even cum yet,” you gasp, trying to argue through baited breath. The whole point of this was so that he could feel just as good as he always made sure you did. So why would he—

“I know.”

You can feel him as he lifts you, flipping you over like you’re nothing more than a doll, and manhandles you onto all fours. Limbs weak, mind frazzled, you’re barely able to hold yourself up, so when he realigns himself at your entrance and slams back through your folds with just as much power as before, you quite literally fall apart.

“Too much?” The low chuckle in your ear is dangerously taunting, wickedly amused and with no sign of its usual sweetness. You’re able to muster a pitiful whine, but the way your entire body trembles tells him everything he needs to know, as he reangles you mid-thrust.

“I believe you said you could take it.” With a particularly powerful snap of his hips, your arms buckle, and you collapse onto the mattress. The intensity continues to send you jolting forward, but his reaffirmed grip on your waist holds your hips in place.

Nothing deters him as he ruts into you, hitting deep new angles that have your fingers grasping at the sheets while your cunt grasps onto his cock. With every slap of his skin against yours, his tip threatens to kiss your cervix, the aftershocks rippling through you until they’re released as broken sobs, muffled into the bed.

How unfortunate that such noises, so very sweet to his ears, would be hidden from the world. Tangling his fingers along your scalp, Neuvillette tugs at your hair, lifting your head back so as to hear the pretty melody you sing when your cries ring around the room. Good. Just as the whole of Fontaine should recognize a dragon’s mark on your skin, they too should hear it’s he who pleasures your body so.

Little bits of drool trickle out of your open mouth, your eyes rolling back as he keeps up the brutal pace. Everything feels too overwhelming, yet so tantalizingly good, that your back curves and you’re creaming around him again.

Electricity shoots through your veins, your lungs desperately racing to catch up with the rapid beat of your heart. The stars painted across your vision drop down to your stomach, exploding with an intensity that rattles you to your core. It’s a flood with no remorse—taking and leaving nothing in return, easily washing away any and all thoughts, until you’re left mewling the name of the only one who could ever give you such a sweet taste of heaven.

But Neuvillette continues to thrust into you, and as he, too, nears his peak, his tireless strokes finally melt into something a little more forgiving. Just a little. The long drag of his cock slides so smoothly against your slick walls, gentle enough to fool your delirious mind into loosening your grip around him.

What trickery from the wicked dragon who slams his hips forward with enough force so that your body jostles with every push and pull as he hits all the right spots again and again. Trapped under the weight of his body, all you can do is feel: the heat of the room smothering all your senses, the fervorous thrusts pushing you to your very limit—all you can do is feel and take it as he kisses the spongy head of your cervix, leaving you without a semblance of sanity, blabbering indiscernible nothings that beg to milk him dry.

“Want more,” you keen, voice as broken as the crystalline tears that roll down your cheeks and melt into the pillows. “Inside. Wan’ it inside.”

Neuvillette laughs, low and airy, strained as his grip tightens, fingertips digging into your hips hard enough that it’d be sure to leave bruises come the morrow. “Is that what you want?”

“Please, please I–” You stop to let out something between a pant and a moan. “Want you to, h-hah, cum inside, wan’ your cum inside me.” Your walls clamp down even harder, as if attempting to trap his cock deep inside you forever, as if you weren’t already tight enough around him.

White fills his vision, and white fills your womb as Neuvillette cums to the knowledge that you love this. He takes in the sight of you, his precious treasure, now reduced to the likes of a common whore: legs quivering, ass in the air, cunt filled to the brim and leaking from where the two of you merge. All for him. By his doing.

Such splendor automatically evokes the instinct to claim you in a way far beyond that of human understanding… but you’ve already let him indulge more than enough tonight; he couldn’t possibly ask for more.

You whimper when you feel him stir again inside you, careful as he brushes past your too-sensitive folds, but even such simple movements hazard to relight the flicker of arousal once again. Every ridge and vein, drawn out so agonizingly slow, sends an inadvertent shiver down your spine until he finally pulls out with a squelch.

There’s no hope in tearing those sharp, reptilian eyes away from your puffy cunt, abused and messy and leaking with your combined fluids. Neuvillette sucks in a breath, trying to suppress his urges as much as he’s trying to swallow down the desire quickly boiling over in his belly again. Cumming inside you—no, breeding you—was a privilege. For dragons such as he, it’s a ritual reserved only for mates, and given the difference in your physiology, he had never allowed himself to do so—at least not until now, that is.

In his defense, you had begged for it, and how could he ever deny the very one whom he has entrusted his heart to—especially when you were so beautifully fucked out and unraveled on his cock like that. And perhaps he’s lived among humans long enough to forgive this indulgence as a paradigm of fleeting desire, though nothing of what he feels for you could ever be considered fleeting.

He parts your folds with two slender fingers, giving himself a better view as his cum now seeps out with suent access. You whine again when you feel him drag his digits down the sides of your pussy lips, catching the overflow before it can fall onto the sheets, and stuffing it right back into your little hole. No point in stopping now, if he’s already committed his sin.

From your half-lidded gaze, you manage to steal a glance at your lover, and judging from the erection that still stands stiff as a rod, he has yet to be satiated. In the attempt to break through the shadow of delirium, you lift your head, shifting your weight back onto your elbows, and forcing your battered body to turn just the slightest bit over.

“You’re still hard,” you note through staggered breath, “We can go again if you want.”

Neuvillette looks down as if he hasn’t already been feeling the near painful arousal throbbing in his groin. Of course he’s still hard—how could he not be; you’re so complacent before him, offering yourself to him like that. But perhaps he is too soft-hearted, for he only lets out a reassuring hum as he leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“You were beyond perfect tonight,” he murmurs. “It… might not be pleasurable for you if I continue anymore. I can finish myself.”

Lovestruck, you shake your head. “I can take it r’member?” Your large eyes, red-rimmed and dreamy, plead for him to use you—use you to his own content, use you so that he’d feel just as good as he always makes you feel. You nibble at your bottom lip, bashful. “You can even use your other form if you'd like...”

Your words catch him off guard, and he immediately stills in a half-hearted attempt to collect himself as another wave of pure, unadulterated desire pulses through his entire being. Neuvillette swallows hard before letting out a slow, shaky breath. His cock twitches and his muscles tense beneath the creamy skin that now seems to gleam with a soft shine, revealing scattered patches of effervescent cerulean scales. You affect him more than you could possibly know, revitalizing such carnal urges that ignore his will and allow his body to react so enthusiastically.

“You’re sure…?” His normally polished tone is husked in a defiant strain. Despite the way his pupils are blown wide and wild with lust, conflict still swims in the shallows of his expression, made clear by the way his voice rasps as he desperately claws to retain even a semblance of his composure.

The tips of your fingers trace the blue streaks that protrude from the crown of his silver head, now hardened into twin ribbons of ivory; his horns, delicate but strong, glow a luminescent azure—so warm and inviting in its radiance… You grasp them tight, pulling him down with you, as you fall back into the bed, his lips pressed against yours. Of course you’re sure. He’d never hurt you, your Neuvillette would never ever hurt you.

“Devious…” he whispers between kisses, your tongue and teeth clashing in a waltz of their own, as his body drapes over yours.

It’s not the first time you’ve seen him in this form, crossed somewhere between a human and a dragon, as beautiful as he is powerful. But it’s certainly the first time you’ve ever attempted to take him like this. He’s bigger in this form—you can already feel it as he grinds up between your legs. Longer. Thicker. Ribbed and embossed with the same pearlescent blue scales. Beautifully intimidating, just like the dragon sovereign himself.

And as you continue to marvel, he lets his cock rest across your lower stomach, sizing you up. His fervor shines through in the way he’s already leaking a mess of sticky precum atop the smooth skin of your belly. A satisfied hum vibrates in his throat, clearly enthused.

“This is how deep I’ll be,” he muses, almost apologetic of the incoming stretch you’d have to endure. “I’m beginning to wonder if I can even fit inside you.”

Would it be wicked of him to admit, even to himself, that he enjoys the way you wriggle and cry just taking him in his human form? And yet… he’s forced to steady his breathing in a poor attempt at grounding himself—a task near impossible as you roll your hips up, ardently shaking your head no, outright ignoring the last out he offers.

“I will… make it fit.” They’re the last words you manage to wrangle out before being overtaken by the need to be full and filled. There’s no reason you should be so terribly, terribly hollow, when he’s right there. Neuvillette chokes back a laugh; your unyielding determination sends blood rushing to his erection, desperate to feel your velvet walls crowd around him again.

Finally relenting, he teases your entrance—running his cock up and down your slit, spreading your wetness, before slapping your clit with the tip—reminding you just how sensitive you still are. Gasping, you jerk away from the stimulation that once again taunts your nerves. Your hole, however, clenches around nothing, eager to please.

But perhaps you’ve greatly underestimated just how big he is, because he barely makes it past the threshold of your folds, before the pleasure pain of the stretch begins to take over. That, and the overstimulation from your previous orgasms, already have you instinctively trying to snap your legs shut, but the firm hold on your thighs forbid you from doing so.

“Ha-ah N-neuvi—” A twisted sense of pride swells in his chest at the way you can hardly speak as your breath hitches and your lungs desperately search for air. “’s too big,” you sob.

He gives you a momentary reprieve to adjust, while his hand snakes down to run sloppy circles over your clit.

“More?” he whispers.

It takes you a minute to respond, but he waits until finally your voice shakes with the violence of each hiccupped sob. “More.. please…”

A baritone hum sounds in his throat as he pulls forward, pressing wet kisses to your jaw in a quiet reassurance, effectively sliding a couple inches deeper, as he does so. “You can take it, my love. You’re so pretty like this.”

Your arms wrap around his neck, your hold eliciting a long, low groan from the dragon. Wherever you squirm, he follows, pressing more of his weight onto you, burying more of his cock into you. Each ridged inch that slides past your folds, seems to push the thoughts right out of your head, letting them dissipate into thin air until you’re left mindlessly moaning sweet praises to his name.

Desperate to accommodate the unfamiliar enormity of his dragon cock, your walls ripple and tense around him, back arching into him, wanting to feel ever closer to the love of your life, determined to push your cunt to its limit for him. For your Neuvillette.

Neuvillette. Neuvillette. Neuvillete. He’s all you can think about; him and his monster cock that seems to split you so deliciously open. It’s wave after wave of heat that sets your insides ablaze, soothed by the waters of arousal that have you begging for more, and restarting the cycle until he finally bottoms out, and you feel as if you’ve been electrified. You squeeze your eyes shut, but with the way his bulbous tip prods at your cervix, your mind goes blank, and the tears fall regardless.

“There…” you pant, eyes glassy from the euphoria of feeling so incredibly full. “’s all in.”

“Yes,” he praises, softly. “Look at you, so nice and tight for me.”

He wipes the salt from your cheeks, distracting you with a delicate kiss. His fangs are more prominent in this form; you can feel them as he grins against your lips, whilst whispering breathy nothings that tell of how good you are for him, how perfect, how he should be so lucky to have you like this, to have you as his.

When your body eases enough, he pulls away, though the subtle shift of his cock still drags a pitched whine out from your lips. If he’s to be honest, he cannot tear his gaze from where the two of you are joined. It’s mesmerizing, hypnotic, to see how he splits you open, to feel how you mold into the shape of him, to imagine just how much your little cunt had to stretch so that he might rest comfortably inside.

Though, comfortable might be an overstatement due to the way your muscles tense and release so tightly around him, clamoring for more of his attention. Eyes darkening with lust, Neuvillette smooths a hand over your abdomen, cerulean scales cold upon your skin.

“Can you feel me right…” He draws a clawed finger delicately across the skin of your belly, where his cock rests parallel underneath. “Here…”

He leaves more than just a faint line of red where his talon rakes. Yes, you want to say. You can feel the faint prickle of his claw on your skin, you can feel how the sharpness sends a shiver ringing through your body, and of course you can feel how he’s sheathed his dragon cock right into the very depths of your cunt, deeper than anyone’s ever been, deeper than he’s ever been… But the only sounds that spill through your lips are another stream of broken sobs, fever touched by how close you are to cumming just from being filled.

“Go on, darling. Cum for me.” He can feel you pulsing around him, clenching and unclenching in search of sweet release, yet he makes no additional moves to help you, leaving you to your own devices.

At this point, you can no longer tell if you’re making things better or worse, as every little movement knocks you into reaction—like dominoes toppling over until every piece of you has been unraveled. You writhe atop the soiled sheets for any sort of friction, but it’s too much when his tip knocks against the entrance to your womb. So you shift away, letting the ridges on his shaft graze against your syruped walls, inciting another wave of need. The scales continue to tip between ‘too much’ and ‘more’, until you finally work yourself into a delirious orgasm, on nothing but his cock inside you and your own incessant squirming.

As you continue to ride out your high, Neuvillete finally begins to move, tearing himself away from your fluttering vice grip with a tremulous moan, because fuck you’re still so tight around him, still so warm and wet even after cumming for what? The fourth time tonight? Pressure lands heavy over your frame as he begins to rock into you, folding you in half as he does.

He fucks you slow and even, stretching you out even more with every new stroke. Your mouth drops open in a silent scream as this new position affords him the privilege to reach impossibly deeper. Despite his shallow thrusts, each drag of his cock still blooms an ache from all the hidden spots that he has no choice but to touch, though it’s quick to pass, as pleasure continues to coil in your belly.

It’s so much all at once. You can’t take it, it’s too much. But the soul-shattering euphoria of being so utterly full, is unparalleled. You want more, you need more.

“My pearl,” he whispers, though his voice is gruff, “my heart… I want to hear you.”

And so you oblige him, wailing something broken and pitched and strangled, at the sudden snap of his hips, at the way he bumps into your cervix and seems to rattle your organs about.

“F-fuck,” you cry, without thinking. Not that you can anyway, when the push-pull tide of his thrusts raises you to new heights of delirium. “H-ah god, fuck Neu–”

Another sharp, jutting thrust cuts you off as the dragon above you snarls, clearly agitated by your crass choice of words. “There are no gods to help you here.” Not in Fontaine where he rules, and certainly not here in his home.

There’s a feral wildness that shines in his bright vishap eyes, and his possessive streak flares—dragons have no natural inclination to share after all. It’s clear in the way his pace changes: faster, harsher, more ragged—a ferocity befitting of an elemental dragon ruler. But titles aside, he’s still your Neuvillette, and every move he makes is still laced with a tenderness, so as not to break you more than he already has.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he commands, dragging his tongue up the length of your throat.

“Yours. ‘m yours, Neuvillette.”

In and out, in and out. His long strokes guide the ridges of his cock back and forth through your tender muscles, leaving you to mumble mindless nonsense as you convulse and keen beneath him. Whatever pain you had felt earlier has long chipped away into undeniable pleasure as you near the precipice of yet another orgasm. Eyes glazed over in all consuming ecstasy, all you know to do is to chase your lust, and so your hips grind back, rolling together like waves in a storm.

Amidst the flagrant wet sounds of your rabid fucking, you cum again, lashes fluttering as your eyes roll, muscles tight as they tremble from such rapture—so lovely, so beautiful. Your siren call of pretty cries spill from your lips, intermingled with weak babbles of his name. You’re so breathtaking like this in your post-climax haze: fucked out and cloudy-eyed, panting into the cool air as his slowed thrusts still rack up an aftershock of shudders.

Neuvillette bows his head, once again trailing wet kisses across your collarbones, before pausing to hover his lips right over the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breath a familiar spot of comfort in this maddening pleasure. Perhaps it’s some sort of sixth sense unique to only the most attuned of lovers, ones whose souls seem to harmonize in perfect resonance, but there’s hesitance in the way he suckles at the spot, fangs ghosting over your tender skin.

“S’okay… you can do it.” Your soft, dreamy sighs of approval are accompanied by the languid tilt of your neck, jeopardizing more of your delicate skin to the dangers of his teeth. “You can mark me… w’nna be your mate…”

Choking back a moan, Neuvillette pistons thrice more into your cunt—pulling out until just his tip remains, and then plunging back into your gooey insides, sending you into another round of dizzying convulsions. His own orgasm follows, seeing stars as he places an amorous bite to the crook of your neck using only the flat of his teeth.

With how deep he’s buried, ribbons of his cum shoot right into your womb, spilling out into every cavity, and painting your interior white. Warmth blossoms from the inside out. Your heart is full, mumbling happy nothings of ‘mates’ in between sniffles, while a creamy ring forms around the base of his cock, thick liquid oozing from where he ends and you begin. His own chest rises and falls in jagged patterns, but his only want is to seek your lips, to drink in your mewls, and exchange sweet kisses, so that your soul and his, may meld together as they dance in the shape of your breaths intertwined.

He strokes your hair, planting easy kisses all around as he unplugs himself, letting loose the flood of cum that seeps out of your hole, but you whine at the loss, wanting nothing more than to be ever close to your newly consummated mate. Neuvillette only nuzzles into your neck, deep purrs of content reverberating from his chest as he lazily rubs his scent all over you. Meanwhile, a quick swish of his sapphire tail up the sticky underside of your thigh, teases another pulse from your cunt, and by reflex, you push out another dollop of white.

A small tap tap to his shoulder distracts him from his scenting, and he looks up with a tilt to his head and a small furrow to his brow, his normally sharp eyes full of earnest concern, relaxing only once he finishes reading through the bleary, dulcet tones of adoration that glow in your half-lidded eyes. You poorly suppress your little giggles—although he often disagrees, your lover really can be quite adorable.

Fontaine’s Iudex Neuvillette is elegant, poised, and meticulously polished… but here in the quiet night hours, in the privacy of your hearth, your Neuvillette is unruly-haired and damp-skinned from satiating the beastly desires of his still tender heart. You reach out a tired arm, first brushing back the pieces of hair that cling to his skin, then wrapping your palm around to cup his face.

“Was I a good mate?” Your hand slips down from his cheek to play with the tips of his silvery hair. “W’nna be the best for you.”

“You already are the best for me.” His hand, no longer clawed nor scaled, brings yours back up for a kiss to your knuckles. “The only one for me.”

He rolls off of you, sweeping you into his embrace, as he carries you off to the bathroom. Your head rests heavily against his chest, but your happy hums and quiet murmurs of ‘good,’ tell him that you have not drifted off into slumber just yet.

“You truly are a wonder,” he breathes, dipping his head to place a soft kiss to your forehead. “And it would be my honor to have you as my mate… but not tonight.”

His instincts had urged him to do it, to permanently claim you as his, and mark you as a dragon would, but his heart vehemently disagrees. The most sacred bond known to his kind is an ultimatum in your relationship, and it is one he refuses to be the sole architect of, so perhaps the two of you can revisit this conversation again once you’re more clear-headed; his answer would remain the same anyways.

a/n2: writing this took years off my life, but i hope you enjoyed it nonetheless ! as always, thank u sm for reading, and reblogs + feedback are very much appreciated ♡

#— 𝓼𝓲𝓰𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓙. ᥫ᭡#neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette x reader smut #genshin x reader #genshin x reader smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin thirsts #neuvillette x you #genshin x you #tw monsterfucking #— 𝓶𝓲𝓭𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓶𝓾𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼

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dearudepaul · 9 months

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#thomas brodie sangster #maze runner #the maze runner #minho maze runner #newt maze runner #thomas maze runner #ki hong lee #thomas sangster #wicked #wckd #fanfiction #maze runner fanfiction

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fauxintellectual · 1 year

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Cleaned out my little meal tray thingy and the food....🤢 the food was frozen solid inside 🤢

#apparently my fridge is wicked cold and I should probably fix that but....I'm about to leave so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#rambles by ki

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inevoblivia · 2 years

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Tag Dump Part II

#Signal Boost…[Lunar Signals] ♢#Miscellaneous…[Scattered Gems] ♢#Queue…[Cyclic Continuance] ♢#Guest Muse: Yuzuki Kimura…[Wicked Spring Moon] ♢#Guest Muse: Akio Yonaga…[Dear Brother of the Moon] ♢#Kyomushugi…[The Sekai Ki Kuchiku] ♢#Kyomushugi…[The Sekai Ki Shugosha] ♢#Kyomushugi…[The Nagaiyo Oujo] ♢#Kyomushugi…[Shinda Sekai] ♢#Kyomushugi…[Kako Yuurei] ♢#Modern…[Reincarnated Peace] ♢#Genshin Impact…[Frozen Ambition] ♢#Honkai Impact…[Valkyrie of Nihility] ♢#Bloodborne…[Hopelessness Amongst Splattered Blood] ♢#Elden Ring…[A Tarnished Jewel] ♢#Drakengard…[A Meaningless Existence] ♢#NieR…[Perpetuator of False Hope] ♢#NieR: Automata…[Lackadaisical Defector] ♢#RWBY…[Nihilistic Servant of an Immortal] ♢

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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cw: spanking, slight degradation, bratty reader. // 18+ mdni, fem!reader

thinking about meanie!bakugou slapping your ass so hard that the tights you wear - with nothing else underneath, of course - rip right where his hand strikes you.

it's what you get for being a brat and teasing him during the entirety of your date, when he was so kind to take you to the fancy restaurant you've been nagging him about visiting for weeks on end. after all, instead of eating and chatting about your day like a normal fucking person, you just had to make it difficult for him, didn't you? batting your eyelashes at him and giving him the googly eyes whilst rubbing his leg with the tips of your toes underneath the table, he was ready to lose his goddamn mind when you had reached over to whisper about not wearing any panties underneath your tights tonight.

so, speaking of the skimpy clothing article, it outright tears from the blunt force he uses now as punishment now. he watches how the fat of your booty jiggles for a long while after his strike hits home, and brings tears to form at your waterline because of the resulting sting. as messed up as it is, it's pure delight.

and he knows he's hit you hard; has even activated his quirk during it. the warmth that sizzles on his palm, seeping right into your skin is almost unbearable because of it. especially when he squeezes the now tender flesh, and makes you whine from the ache.

you can see him sneer at the sight of the single tear that slips from the corner of your eye as you turn to glower at him over your shoulder. his sharp features portray nothing but ego and twisted delight at the pout you bring forth, now. he's so handsome, despite the wicked glint in his eye. you blame it on the expensive suit he's got on.

"can't you be just a little bit nicer, ki?" you ask with a sigh, bottom lip jutting out as a means to be coy.

"nah," he replies, the word an unbothered drawl. he doesn't buy your shtick as he grins at you, the beam crooked but appealing. doesn't buy it at all. "not feelin' like it right now."

no, he's in the mood to be mean. has forced you into dropping onto all fours, with your knees digging into the mattress of your bed that he stands right beside of now. and you can deny it all you want, but your pussy is already turning sticky with growing arousal as you feel his intimidating presence fill the room; a damp patch forming on the thin fabric that serves as the only barrier keeping you from his greedy touch.

it's not like that's enough to stop him.

because when he spanks you again - landing a second slap right atop the same spot that still hurts so bad, making you squirm and push forward from all the force and the pain - you hear the sound of shredding fabric mix with the twisted snicker he lets out.

he hooks his fingers to the edge of the nearly-smoldering hole he's created in your tights and that exposes your skin now - that smooth, warm skin he's so very eager to touch - and tugs at it until cool air is brushing over your weeping cunt, making you shiver from the sudden chill to touch all the wetness.

he's breathing hard when his thumb grazes your clit; all slow and intentional. is trying to calm down the impatient flutter of a muscle that's ticking in his defined jaw. god, what a view - he could almost whistle at it. truthfully, he can barely wait to pound you into oblivion and watch himself spoil the sight.

the silence and anticipation that linger in the air make your toes curl as you readjust yourself for what seems to be like the hundredth time. he snorts at how twitchy you've become. the sound is annoyingly derisive, even if your jittery movements make his cock hard.

"what," you spit out in answer, brows furrowing and fingers clutching the bed sheet. you've got this, he doesn't scare you. not at all. "you gonna make fun of me for finding you hot, or something?"

"i'm just taking my time to look at you and how fuckin' drenched you are already," he says, ignoring your provocation in a mocking sort of tone that almost makes you feel ashamed for liking this entire thing as much as you do. he clicks his tongue against his teeth, observing your body language as he feels the need to add, "you dirty lil' slut."

rolling your eyes as dramatically as you're able despite that he can't see it, you huff, "eat me, you dyna-cunt."

the third spank he gives you rips the air right out of your lungs from how harsh and sudden it is. your breathing hitches as you let out what resembles a mixture of a moan and a sob, but before the sound can even finish leaving your lips, it turns muffled from the way his broad hand lands on the back of your neck and he uses the momentum to push your face into the mattress.

the heat of his quirk truly is intense, you can feel the sparks as they dangeorusly dance across your skin. they're not enough to burn you, per se, but are still threatening enough to keep you wary just as a precaution. it all makes your stomach tighten with lewd anticipation, even if you know he'd never cause you any real harm.

because as he still holds you firmly in place, making your ass push high into the air, bakugou's voice is a mere growl of agitation when he snarls,

"don't mind if i do, princess."

#bakugo x reader #bakugo smut #bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #biscuit drabbles

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rainydays12 · 7 months

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The romance in The Folk of the Air series is a subplot; honestly, this isn't a romance series but when there is romance dear god! Is there romance! Like, there is not a single interaction between Jude and Cardan that is boring! All of them are just so..... iconic!

It's the way Cardan has just helplessly fallen for this lady (and I don't blame him it's Jude fricking Duarte!) but doesn't know how to express his feelings or get attention from her because when he was younger he only got attention and love from others when he was being wicked (get it? because he's the wicked ki- OK FINE I'LL STOP) and cold-blooded towards other fae and is not fully aware that this isn't how you actually want to get attention and praise and love and stuff from fae outside the castle walls because of this parents and other members of his family (specifically his mother) treating him like this and giving him trauma!

It's just the way Jude is soo conflicted because she's slowly falling for him but still very much hates him because he's cruel (haha get it? because he's the cruel prince? OK, I'll stop now.) and mean and stuff towards others and her. And Jude misunderstands his cruelty towards her as hatred (and honestly if I didn't know Cardan I would have been like that too) and thinks that he's trying to play a game with her feelings when he's being nice and stuff to her and telling her he wants her and stuff (because she has trust issues after Locke toyed with her) when he isn't playing any game at all! He just doesn't know how to get love and stuff from others because of his upbringing and urghhhhh!

Honestly, I could go on all day about these two evil little lovebirds' dynamic and how it is being affected by so many different things throughout the series but.... I'll stop there.

Thank you for reading my little (is it really?) ramble about these two loveable villainous idiots. Here's a little token of appreciation- 💛

#tfota #cardan greenbriar #jude duarte #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #the folk of the air #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing

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watermelonsugacry · 1 year

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i would adore to learn how/when y/n meet mitch! your posts make me so happy!

Choose Your Words

A/N: in celebration of SINCE 2010 turning 1 on Tumblr, here's how the two best guitarists in the world met! 💚

SUMMARY: After almost a year into One Direction's hiatus, Harry craves being in the studio again to make some music. After inviting his best friend and former band member, YN, onto his team, they spend the next two months in Jamaica as they make an album, uncover hidden feelings, and explore uncharted territories. (3.5k)

GENRE: 1dbandmember!yn

SINCE 2010 masterlist // Jamaica series // Previous song here! 🌵

SIDE-NOTE: italicized is voice over commentary (I wrote this kind of like the Behind the Album documentary) bold are things Harry actually said irl

“So what did you say his name was again?”

Today marks the first day of the official writing session for Harry’s new album. The last of the team had just finished flying in the day before and settling into their new home for the next two months.

Much like her time in the band, YN being the only female in this team was given her own room to stay in for their stay in Jamaica. With only a couple of hours in the land of paradise, she’s already traded in her skinny jeans for shorts and her leather jackets for open button-up shirts with tank tops underneath.

Harry is just too excited to wait any longer. YN could tell how much he’s been holding it in and he has been itching to be back in the studio to make some music. After everyone’s taken naps to overcome the jet lag, it was time to get into the home studio to bring Harry’s ideas to fruition.

The two of them haven’t experienced writing an album like this before. They were always on the road whenever they recorded, putting down some vocals here and there in a mini van minutes before going on stage to perform to a stadium full of people. They’ve never had the chance to set a month or two aside to solely focus on creating such a magic piece of art. Despite already getting in the studio to get started working on the album, it already feels like a vacation.

But before they could even get started, she had to ask about the last member of Harry’s team that she wasn’t able to meet before making the trip overseas.

“Mitch. Mitch Rowland. He was Ryan’s roommate.” Harry answers as YN takes a sip of her smoothie she made earlier that morning. Her and Harry walk side by side down the hallway on their way to the built-in home studio. The house they were staying in was absolutely beautiful. It was just sitting off the coast so almost every window in the house had a view of the beach. It has a lot of open space in each room, a spacious backyard and a patio area for get-togethers, but YN’s favorite part of the house is the home studio. She can’t wait until hers gets done by the time they get back from their trip.

“Wait, what happened to the other bloke that was supposed to come in?”

Harry takes the cup from her hand and takes a sip for himself, “He bailed.”

“Just like that?” YN raises her eyebrows in surprise as he nods around the cup. “Well shit. Is this new guy legit then?”

“Ryan said Mitch has been working at a pizza shop for the last couple of years and that they’re pretty good friends.” She nods along before being handed back her cup. “Met him about a week before we came out here and he’s pretty fucking wicked at the guitar. He’s pretty stiff competition compared to you.”

“Har, har,” YN playfully rolls her eyes at his teasing but the compliment simultaneously inflates her ego and gives her tummy butterflies at the same time. The feeling in her stomach only increases as she watches Harry rake a hand through his new haircut.

Only a week before they need to take off to Jamaica, YN and Harry take the trip back to Holmes Chapel to a very excited Anne. The woman never fails to extend a warm welcome—especially towards the young lady who her son’s been secretly in love with since he was a teenager.

They stay by the doorframe of Anne’s small kitchen and (despite YN’s few attempts to talk him out of it) watch as Harry gets ready for his first haircut in almost two years. He takes off his shirt since he doesn’t feel like plucking the hair off of the fabric, leaving him in his pajama pants. The two women watch as he gets his long locks tied back in a low ponytail and YN can’t help the giggle that tumbles out of her lips.

“What are you laughing at?” Harry can’t help but chuckle as well. As much as this transformation is needed in order to transition into this new chapter in his life, there’s no denying that he’s feeling anxious as well.

“M’nervous! I can’t help it,” YN beams, tightly linking her arm with Anne’s.

“You want to cut a bit of it off?” Harry offers.

“Like hell m’gonna to be partly responsible for this crime being committed in front of me eyes.”

The people in the room laugh at her playfully offended tone and Anne pats her hand reassuringly to the young woman’s arm. YN’s had her fair share of hair transformations over the years. For Harry, his long hair has always been her favorite. She remembers the day he told her he planned on growing it out with the intention of donating it and the day he asked her about some ways he could keep his hair out of his eyes—introducing his love for headscarves and small clips. She remembers when she had a real shitty day and he let her braid his long hair to cheer her up...only for him to keep them on for the show they had later that night. She loved to card her fingers through his hair and watch his eyes fight to stay open.

Right as the hairdresser begins to grab at the low ponytail and brings the blades of the scissors to his hair, YN playfully covers her eyes and digs her face into Anne’s arm, “I can’t watch!”

“I was the one with the long hair. I’ve had it for so much of One Direction that cutting it off just felt like starting afresh.”

YN’s eyes peek through the gap in between her fingers as she watches the deed be done. Harry also has a hand over his eyes and playfully groans out in pain.

She snaps a couple of pictures of him initially getting his hair trimmed before leaving to the living room to let him have his haircut in peace and have a chat with Anne. And once it was officially over, Harry only adds to the anticipation of his new haircut reveal when he tells her to cover her eyes.

“Hurry up, H. M’already all worked up.”

“Okay, okay,” She hears the sound of wood—presumingly the coffee table—scraping against the floor before he takes a take on it to be in front of her. “Open your eyes, love.”

Her eyes make their way up from the two birds on his chest up to his head.

“Huh,” She smiles contently at the sight in front of her. Harry’s hair no longer reaches below his shoulders. The curly curtains that once framed his face have been removed. His newly short locks don’t seem as curly as it used to be but they both know it’s still there. Harry’s hair is styled in an upward motion and all she wants to do is run her fingers through it.

So she brings a hand up to do just that. She combs her fingers through the top of his hair and she’s slightly surprised that his hair is not long enough for the action to last longer. Her gaze moves down to his eyes and sees him waiting for her approval.

“Is that a good ‘huh’?” He asks when she hasn’t said another word.

“It’s a good ‘huh.’” She tilts her head to the side as she continues to stare at him and a smile of his own creeps onto his face. She’s definitely going to miss his long hair, but on the other hand, she thinks his new look suits him as he starts a new chapter in life. And if she’s being completely honest with herself, he looks so fucking handsome.

When he sees her eyes continuing to bounce around the top of his head and around the rest of his face, he playfully pushes at her knee, “Stop or else I’ll get conceded.”

His chest swells when he sees that gorgeous smile of hers only become that much brighter, “Oh I think you’re way past that.”

“I was about to personify my hair but I decided not to,” Harry huffs out a smirk from his seat in front of his interview chair.

“M’excited for you to meet him though,” Harry says, rubbing his hands together. “Getting a lead guitarist is just the beginning for all this, y’know? Like it makes this that much more real.”

It’s really exciting to see Harry so excited about his music. Going from being in the band for five years and putting out an album a year was tiring to say the least but the fact that they were making music that they loved balanced out some of the stress. Now as an upcoming solo artist, it was inspiring to see him as passionate about music as he was when she first met him all those years ago.

“Well let’s stop wasting time then and let me go see how wicked this guy really is.” YN smiles and reaches for the door handle but before she can touch it, his hand covers hers. She blinks up at him as he brings their joined hands to his chest.

“You think talking to me is a waste of time, lovie?” Whether it was the teasing look in his eye or the way he smirks at her with his dimpled cheeks, but it has her mind going blank without a witty comment to fire back. Yet this is how they’ve been for years: making jokes that were borderline flirty, causing the other person to smirk or playfully roll their eyes in fake annoyance, acting like one another’s actions didn’t have an effect on them when it utterly and wholeheartedly did. Since they couldn’t do anything about it with the strict restrictions of the no-dating rule in the band, there was no harm or foul with these kinds of conversations.

Now everything is different.

They aren’t in the band anymore.

These stubble comments and questions left them searching for the truth behind each word that pushed past the other’s lips. Did the other person actually mean what they said or was it just them being how they always are?

At a loss for words, she furrows her brows with a rigid shake of her head, “N-no, I-I mean—”

“M’joking darling,” An amused smile graces his face from seeing her all flustered and tongue-tied. It’s a rare sight so whenever he’s able to catch her off guard in this way, he relishes in it.

YN pulls her hand away from Harry’s with an eye roll and a scoff, trying her best to play off a cool demeanor, “I know tha’.”

Despite her efforts, he continues to smirk down at her before twisting the door handle and pushing the door open.

“After you,” Harry extends a hand out towards the room. With one last look at him, she enters the room with the rim of the cup to her lips to hide the heat creeping its way up to her cheeks. She sees two of the producers, Tyler and Alex, messing around with the buttons on the panel and in a light discussion.

She also sees a guy in the recording room through the window above the huge studio console. His long hair covers his face as he looks down to tune his guitar.

“Is this him?” She asks, feeling Harry behind her.

Tyler turns around and gives a quick nod, “Should we let him know we’re ready for him?”

YN cocks up an eyebrow with a hand lazily resting on her hip, “Let’s see what he’s got.”

Given the good girl persona that One Direction’s management forced upon her during the majority of her career, no one would really expect her to look so intimidating. Sure, there’s always going to be some slight intimidation for the fact that she’s a member of one of the most famous bands in the world, making music that quickly lands them at the top of the charts, putting out new music, and performing to sold-out stadiums almost every night—but she’s been so prim and proper externally that some people wouldn’t think twice to write her off as anything else.

As the last year of the band progressed, more and more of her personality began to shine through to the outside world. She’s a harsh critic and doesn’t like to sugar coat shit—especially if it comes to a big project like this for one of the most important people in her life.

So as she takes a seat on the leather sofa chair with Harry sitting on the arm rest, she puts one leg over the other and crosses her arms over her chest with a neutral expression on her face. Harry might say that this hippie looking guy is a good guitarist, but YN needs to see that for herself.

“I was a bit skeptical about Mitch at first, m’not gonna lie,” YN lightly laughs in her interview chair. “I mean, v’seen a lot of talented guitarists so far during my music career so I was mainly looking to see like, ‘what’s so different about this guy?’”

From the first note that the guy behind the glass riffs—as cool as it was—she keeps from showing her thoughts and brings her cup to her lips. Harry pinches at his bottom lips as he watches for her reactions; needing her approval for something as vital as this racks his nerves like no other.

As Mitch continues to play, Harry sees the way YN begins to slowly move her head to the pretty melody. Her eyes scan the spot on the floor in front of her as she listens closely to what’s being played and the infamous crease in between her eyebrows appears.

“But the moment he started playing, he just...” She shakes her head with a smirk. “...he blew me fookin’ socks off.”

Mitch does a really cool riff on the guitar that has the four of them in the room whoop and shout in amazement.

“Woah!” Harry stands up from his seat and lifts his arms in the air.

“Holy shit!” YN lets out a laugh, putting her hands to her temple in disbelief. “Are yeh fookin’ kidding me?”

The next thing she knows, Harry’s removing his pink button up, crossing his arms across his torso and removing his shirt to place it onto her lap behind him. The two producers in the room soon catch on and start laughing hysterically at the sight before them.

Harry then proceeds to shimmy out of his tight, black jeans, leaving him in his tiny briefs, and sticks his arms in the air. YN places her index fingers in the corners of her mouth and blows out a loud whistle both for Mitch's guitar skills and Harry's undressing.

The two of them don’t waste another second as Harry takes her inside the recording room to formally introduce her to the newest member of the team.

“Mitch, this is my best friend YN. YN, this is—”

“Mitch fookin’ Rowland,” YN smirks, taking his outreached hand. “S’nice to meet yeh, mate.”

“Thanks, same here,” Mitch gives her a shy smile. “Harry’s told me a lot about you. He told me you’re a musician too?”

Trying not to be thrown off by his innocent tone, YN glances at Harry at Mitch’s unexpected comment but she’s quick to bounce back, “I am, yeah. Nothing too major though. Play a bit of guitar as well.”

“Yeah, and by ‘a bit,’” Harry throws a hand on her shoulder. “She means she’s practically married to it.”

“You have to show me some of your secrets then,” Mitch motions to the guitar that’s still pressed against himself.

“Sure, but before that, you gotta show me how you did that one riff earlier,” YN says as she’s already reaching for one of the guitars she’s brought for the trip and throwing the thick strap over her shoulder.

It’s strange to meet someone who hasn’t known their band. YN can’t remember the last time she met someone where they didn’t know her name and her success prior to being formally introduced. Since she was sixteen years old, she began to feel like everyone knew everything about her: her feelings, her background, what she was fucking thinking just because they read something in some sleazy, tabloid article. People had preconceived notions about her but with Mitch, it’s the complete opposite. It was an uncomfortable experience at first, but then YN fookin’ loves it.

“The thing with Mitch is that since he had no experience with being in a recording studio and YN having the same, if not more, experience with songwriting and that sort of thing, it really connected us in a way where the three of us sort of, balanced each other out,” Harry explains, before pitching at his bottom lip with his thumb and index finger. “We had each other to lean on and work this out together and the three of us wrote the majority of the album together.”

“The first song we wrote together was Ever Since New York,” YN recalls as she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “Knowing from personal experience, the best form of therapy and venting out yeh feelings is in songwriting so...that song was just waiting to come out of Harry.”

A major part of creating music is being vulnerable. It’s an intimate experience to write songs, especially with other people, in letting other people see your hurts, your feelings, and the kinds of thoughts that can keep you up late at night. It’s one of the reasons why YN and Harry are as close as they are. It took some time to get used to it at the beginning of their careers together, but they let each other see the deepest parts of themselves. They tell each other things that they’d be embarrassed to tell anyone else with no fear of judgment; they’ve created a safe space in one another...well, as safe as one can feel when they’re secret, deeper feelings for their best friend.

Ever Since New York came to life fairly easily; songwriting can be that way when writing from life experiences. After finalizing some of the lyrics about Harry’s sick father with YN and working out the chords with Mitch, the next they knew he was laying down the vocals for the song.

As everyone gets to work in the studio, YN finds herself reverting back to her old demeanor in the band: sitting in the corner of the room watching as the four male producers work their magic in front of the huge console of buttons and sliders. Not that she minded all that much since she was hired as a songwriter, there was nothing in that kind of job description for her to be with the other men producing Harry’s songs.

She knew her place without being told and she’s had years of experience in learning how to be okay with that...but that didn’t stop her mind from dreaming about being up there, moving various sliders, typing away at the desktop computer, and helping fix vocals as they appear in their zigzag form on the screen.

As if hearing her thoughts behind him, YN’s head perks up when Tom—better known as Kid Harpoon—spins around in his seat and beckons her over with a nod of his head.

When Harry comes out of the recording booth, a smile spreads across his face when he sees YN sitting in a swiveling chair with everyone else, clicking away at the desktop mouse as Kid points to the screen. She nods to whatever he’s saying and highlights the recorded vocals to make the needed adjustments.

When Kid sees Harry come up to them, he pipes up, “H, you didn’t tell me we got another producer on our team.”

“Oh, no s’nothing—”

“I thought you knew,” Harry says in-matter of fact, interrupting YN before she can finish. When she blinks up at him, he nods over to the computer screen. “Wanna show me what you’ve got so far?”

She gives him that smile that has been making his knees weak since he was sixteen years old. “Okay. Okay, yeah. Um, so here’s a bit from the first verse you did earlier...”

As she shows him the work she’s done, it takes him a second to make his eyes stop bouncing around her profile. She speaks so passionately about her work, her eyes lighting up like a kid in a candy store. The way her plushy lips push and pull with each word has him wanting to reach out to run his thumb over her bottom lip.

After all these years, how has his feelings for her not gone away?

He thought maybe this time it would be different. They’re not in the band anymore...but with her being hired on as a member of his album-making team, they’re practically co-workers once again.

Harry pulls his eyes away from her face and looks at the computer screen in hopes to drown out those intrusive thoughts. He just hopes this doesn’t affect their work...shit.

Next Song Here! 👻

taglist:

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 year

Note

Good evening, I got another idea for your new event

Aces' older brother and grim interaction like "oh, Ace, how you got so tall— agh! It's not Ace" "oh? Oh. Oooh, hello. Isn't it that 'stupid raccoon' my lil' bro was talking about? " "HEY! Don't call THE great Grim raccoon! "

[Referencing this interaction!]

… I like how we’ve come to a silent consensus that Big Bro Trappola is just a taller version of Ace 😂

Fun fact: In the JP fandom, a lot of fans call Ace’s brother “Jack”, a reference to the character “Jack Hearts” from the Villain Recruiters group (part of Tokyo Disney Sea’s Halloween events).

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

You heard Grim's familiar shrill cries echo up from the bottom of a twisting stairwell. Peering down over the banister, you found an auburn-haired boy detaining Grim by the scruff, the poor little beast flailing for freedom. You called out to them as you jogged down the stairs, speaking a name you knew so well: Ace.

As you approached, a realization started to set in—that Ace was far taller than usual. But surely it was the same cheery troublemaker you'd always known. He had the same cheeky smile and bright eyes.

A growth spurt? Or had he defied Riddle's warnings to not eat the dubious mushrooms that grew in the Heartslabyul gardens?

Ace casually raised his free hand to wave as you descended. “Yo.”

“Hey!! Wow Ace, when did you get this tall?” you said teasingly.

The corner of his mouth lifted, amused. You noticed that he had parted his bangs today, and had drawn on his heart much smaller, more of an accessory than a statement piece.

“Well, you know how it is. A growing boy like me’s always got something up his sleeve.”

“M-Minion, there you are!!” Grim sputtered, aggressively kicking his furry feet midair. “Quick, after this imposter!”

“Imposter?”

“Don’t mind him. Little dude’s got his tail in a twist cuz I called him a raccoon.” A wicked grin crept onto Ace’s lips. It was easy and devil-may-care—and Ace was that devil. “Isn’t that right, ta-nu-ki-chan?”

He prodded Grim’s cheek with each singsong syllable. One, two, three, four… and Grim lost it.

“MYAAAH!!” He thrashed about wildly, swiping his paws at his just-out-of-reach captor. “I’m so MAD, I could spit!! When I get my paws on you, I’ll…!”

“Watch it, or you’ll set the whole dorm on fire,” you warned, “and then we’ll have an upset Riddle to deal with.”

“Who, the teapot tyrant? Isn’t he off sipping tea somewhere? I wouldn’t worry about him.”

“Ace!!” You gaped at him, eyes wide. “You talking about him is just going to make Riddle magically manifest to collar you again! It’s like the universe is out to get you at this point.”

“I’m cool with that. I doubt he’ll behead me anyway.”

“What makes you think he won’t?!”

Ace simply shrugged and wiggled his brows—as if daring you to guess. “Let’s just say I don’t think I’m the guy he’d be after,” he said mysteriously with a wink.

“AHHHHHHHH!!”

You startled at the scream that tore through the air. Your head whipped in the direction of it, expecting an enraged Riddle, face red and nostrils flaring, charging at you. Instead, the person scrambling over was…

“Ace?!”

You looked back at the young man holding onto Grim, then again at the one fast approaching. Side by side, the little differences between them came to light.

The taller Ace was sharper in every way—eyes, lips, face. His attire was far more casual than Riddle would allow for: an open vest, dress shirt undone a few buttons, a loose tie thrown over his shoulder. He had a relaxed maturity about him, as though Ace had been aged into some semblance of adulthood, but had maintained all of his wonder.

The imposter assumed a sheepish smirk. “‘Sup, lil’ bro?”

“Don’t ‘sup, lil’ bro me!!” Ace groaned, marching over to land a swift punch to his brother’s arm arm. “Dude, you can’t just ditch me to go screw with my friends! Only I'm allowed to do that!"

“My bad, my bad. I was just curious about what kinda people you hang around with.” His brother laughed, setting Grim back on the ground. You were quick to grab him before he circled around to attack the older Trappola’s pant leg.

“So,” Ace’s brother continued, his gaze trained on you and Grim, “you must be the ones that had Ace running to Sage’s Island over winter break. He was really worried when you got your SOS text. Basically broke his piggy bank to make sure he had enough allowance to take public transportation back to NRC.”

“Oh? Really? I had no idea he was so desperate to be my hero.”

“H-Hey, don’t listen to him! He’s blowing it out of proportion! I totally wasn’t that worried,” Ace protested. “Besides, if dummies like you and Deuce weren’t around… then school life would be so much more boring. A wellness check here or there’s fine, so lay off!”

His brother chuckled. Leaning into your ear, he murmured, “That’s how Ace shows that he cares.”

“Oi, what are you whispering about?!” Ace cried, elbowing his brother out of the way. “Stop gettin’ all chummy with MY friends and butt out. You’re supposed to be spending time with your family today anyway, so let’s get going!”

“What, I was just about to embarrass you by sharing stupid stories with them~”

“Like I’d like that happen!!” With a pout, Ace yanked on his brother’s arm. “Come on, you have adult stuff to do!!”

"Like you don’t have kid stuff to do?”

“I’m NOT a little kid anymore!”

“And I’m still young at heart.”

Stuck between the duo, you and Grim exchanged knowing glances.

“Those two… they really are alike, huh?”

“You know it, minion.”

#Ace Trappola #twst #twisted wonderland #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions #Grim #Reader #self insert #twst scenarios #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #NRC Family Day #disney twisted wonderland

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felassan · 1 year

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Dragon Age: Absolution plot details, character info and cast announced:

----------

"'Welcome to Miriam's Story...'

"When a heist against the most powerful man in Tevinter goes south, an elven mercenary named Miriam (Kimberly Brooks) is forced into a desperate fight for survival," an official synopsis for Absolution reads. "Now, to save herself and her friends, Miriam will have to confront the tragic past she's spent a lifetime trying to escape."

Dragon Age: Absolution Season 1 consists of six episodes, each running at 30 minutes. Mairghread Scott (Guardians of the Galaxy, Wonder Woman: Bloodlines) serves as showrunner on the animated series, which comes from Red Dog Culture House and BioWare. Scott also writes the series with Mae Catt and Tim Sheridan, with Ki Yong Bae serving as director. A full list of the show's key characters can be found below:

Kimberly Brooks as MIRIAM - A pragmatic elven mercenary who escaped enslavement in Tevinter, Miriam is closed-off to many who know her. But her heroic nature shines through when she's forced to confront the nation that destroyed her life, and the man at the heart of her misery.

Matthew Mercer as FAIRBANKS - A veteran freedom fighter, Fairbanks leads our heroes with a warm-hearted sense of adventure, a pair of daggers, and a dashing smile to boot.

Ashly Burch as QWYDION - A bubbly Qunari mage with a penchant for explosions, Qwydion is an open-hearted, easily-distracted blabbermouth who can level a building or cure a hangover, depending on the situation.

Sumalee Montano as HIRA - An idealistic mage, Hira hopes to rekindle her relationship with Miriam while advancing her relentless crusade against Tevinter. But a terrible secret will put both at risk.

Phil LaMarr as ROLAND - Despite his effortless demeanor, the charming Roland possesses unmatched grit. When disaster looms and all seems lost, Roland is as sure as the blade he wields.

Keston John as LACKLON - A dwarven Lord of Fortune, Lacklon is a gruff fighter, a born brawler, a complete glory hound, and just enough of a coward to make sure he stays alive.

Josh Keaton as REZAREN - Born to privilege and plagued by tragedy, Rezaren sees himself as a good man in a wicked world. Intelligent and charismatic, Rezaren is determined to build a better future for everyone in Tevinter, no matter the cost.

Zehra Fazal as TASSIA - Dutiful and hardworking, Tassia turns a blind eye to everything that doesn’t meet her moral standards. But even she won't be able to ignore the sins of Tevinter (or Rezaren) forever…"

[source]

#dragon age #dragon age: absolution #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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kraken17 · 5 days

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List of dimensional variants/counterparts of Enid and Wednesday introduced in my fanfiction Kooky Spooky in order of appearance.

This means that other characters that are counterparts such as Taylor Galpin, the Yoko and Weems from Agent A's dimension and the rest of the Adamos (High Fantasy Addams Family) are not on this list. Only Enids and Weds.

(Artwork from Kris6758 on Twitter)

First, those with some weight in the plot:

Eamon Sinclair (Chapter 1): Initially named in Chapter 1, with no formal appearance until Chapter 43. Eamon is a male counterpart of Enid and husband of Friday (the Wednesday from the 1973 cartoon). Basically, he is "our" Enid if she had been born male. Standard lycanthrope, though exceptionally strong.

Thursday (Chapter 9): Wednesday Thursday Addams. As Eamon, a male counterpart to Wednesday and Friday's cell neighbor. He looks identical to a teenage Gomez but with no mustache and with Fester's pallor.

Enid Saint-Clair (Chapter 19): The Enid of Woe's dimension (the Wednesday of the '90s movies). Brunette, of Greek descent and werecat rather than werewolf. Affable and nice, though with psychopathic tendencies and a love for exacerbated violence. Loves to fight people who can keep up with her. To call her "kitten" is to invite death. Better just call her “Nid”.

Agent A (Chapter 22): Wednesday Tuesday Addams. The Wednesday from a dimension gone to hell (literally). She's a grown woman in her forties, dresses like she's a MIB and is a practitioner of magic. She's also one of the few Wednesdays who doesn't make use of her pigtails or pull her hair back in any way, leaving her hair loose. If you want to put a face on her, I imagine her as Hailee Steinfeld about 16 years from now.

Wodnesdæg (Chapter 35): Lord Wodnesdæg of the House of Adamo, Prince of the Kingdom of Nova Gersia. Wod to his closest family and friends. Trans male version of Wednesday. He collects his hair in two short but thick pigtails. Likes to wear black armor that makes him look like the stereotypical Dark Lord from a fantasy novel, but first impressions aside his personality is closer to that of a Gomez Addams.

Eneit Synklar (Chapter 35): Enid's variant from Wodnesdæg's dimension and his betrothed. A barbarian and werewolf princess Enid, extremely tall and muscular, usually dressed in furs or light leather armor. Very outgoing, affable and friendly, though she lacks a bit of tact and has no qualms about breaking in half anyone who messes with her loved ones.

Now, the ones that are more cameos:

Chapter 43:

A golden tyrannosaurus Enid and her ape-like sidekick Wednesday, inspired by the original comic book versions of Devil Dinosaur and Moon Boy.

A middle-aged futuristic soldier Enid.

A Wednesday who looks like a living marble statue with golden cracks adorning her skin and luminous white hair.

A Wednesday and Enid who look like stereotypical pirates.

Chapter 45:

Gargoyle Enid. A purple-skinned Enid with horns, tail and wings, inspired by the characters from the Disney series Gargoyles.

Cyborg-lycanthrope Enid.

Vampire Wednesday, armed with a spear.

Reverse Enid and Wednesday: A violent lycanthropic but black-furred Enid accompanied by a disturbingly extroverted blonde Wednesday.

The younglings: A group of five or six young Wednesdays, the oldest no older than seven.

Saiyan Enid: A brunette-haired martial artist Enid with ki abilities, orange robes, staff and monkey tail. Inspired by Dragon Ball, although it can be interpreted as a reference to Journey to the West as well.

Gunslinger Enid and Wednesday, as if out of a classic Hollywood Western.

Sasquatch Enid.

The witches: Two Enids, one of them in school uniform and wand-wielding, clearly inspired by the Potterverse novels/films or other similar works. The second Enid, with green skin and black clothes, pointy hat and broom is more inspired by The Wizard of Oz and Wicked.

Punk-looking Enid with cybernetic implants like blades in her arms. Inspired by Cyberpunk 2077.

Angelic Enid, alternates between a humanoid form with wings and a fire-wheel form with multiple eyes.

Hellboy Wednesday (Hellgirl?).

And those are all as of chapter 47. If there are more additions, this list will be updated.

#wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #wenclair fic #wenclair fanfic #wenid #eniday #the addams family #multiverse #fanfiction #altogether ooky #kooky spooky #multiversal variants #interdimensional counterparts #archive of our own #a03 fic #ao3 link #wednesday netflix #wednesday

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msbhagirathi · 10 days

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IPKKND LIVE BLOG SEASON 1 [Epi 5]

Let'z welocme Shyam today. *sarcasm intended* (-_-) (I know I wrote the wrong spelling by mistake but then I noticed it and thought let it be. Who cares. Shyam himself won't come here to correct me.)

There, I gave you the biggest spoiler of the episode, in advance to ruin your mood.

Heh. I am evil.

Now don't leave without reading it, okay? I do a lot of mehnat into writing these. :')

Come. Let'z begin this then *sighs irritated-ly*

Arnav's manager shows him the live news with the footage, being telecasted in some channel. (Kamlesh Khabri ji, was that yours ? Lol.)

2. Did you-too- wonder about that 'smart' phone, Arnav was holding? Turns out, I could find it.

3. "Aaj ka saajan" Lmao. (Today's lover)

4. Arnav, while watching that clip, being telecasted, flashes back to the line Khushi said last, before leaving. "Devi maiyya ki marzi ke bina koi kuch bhi nahi kar sakta, koi Arnav Singh Raizada bhi nahi." (No one can do anything without Devi-Maiyya's wish, not even some Arnav Singh Raizada.")

5. Basically, he is thinking, that, he has shown her place to 'that girl', who had said that he can't do anything without some 'devi maiyya's wish'.

6. This is clear in his reply to Akash's protest for over paying MR . "Meri beizatti karne ki himmat naa kabhi kisi ne ki hai, naa ab koi karega." (No one, has ever disrespected me, nor anyone would, now, have the guts to.) Oh. So, the problem is your ego issue.

I should have known it. Khushi had the misfortune to meet you and now she is paying the price with her reputation and dignity, being butchered like animal slaughtering. You, a__hole.

7. Khushi and her Amma are getting molested by a bunch of perverts.

8. Babuji tries to stop them, but he gets a hard push, which results in Shashi losing his balance and his head hits a nearby pole.

9. The men are very adamant and one of them tugs at Khushi's dupatta.

10. There. A man, wearing, a beautiful shiny brown pair of office shoes, with a matching pair of trousers, is shown stepping down from somewhere. He starts walking (towards the scene?)

11. A Turquoise bracelet gleaming in his right wrist. (why the fck isn't he wearing his wedding ring?) He is shown from behind some -shops?- He walks upto where babuji had fallen down. He helps him to stand up.

12. Wow. Daiyya Ho! What an entry.

13. Everything aside. Aabhaas looks so fckin handsome in that outfit. Everything. Literally, everything about his look is so freaking perfect. The colour combo of the shirt and pant. The shoes. Oh. God. I am in love with those shoes.

IDK. It's just looks so- fantastic?-deliciously beautiful?- I am simping for those, quite literally. Is it normal for some human to simp on a pair of shoes? Whatever. So. Yeah. I was talking about the look. The flare of the pant, as he walks. His haircut. Like. Wow. Absolutely ravishing.

14. And he starts beating those mfs, one by one.

15. After beating those hooligans. He walks back to Babuji, to check up on him. He tells him to get a band-aid for his cut. Babuji is touched by his words and thanks him for the help.

16. Then, Shyam turns to look at where Amma was standing but is transfixed to see Khushi shyly(hesitantly?) looking at him with tears in her eyes, from behind her Amma, just like any other rom-com film, only that, this isn't any other rom-com film. (the Sitar and Tabla BG score used, here, is so freaking beautiful and also kind of suits him coz it sounds something like wicked and graceful.)

17. We can see, he is caught off guard, by the way, Khushi is looking at him; by her beauty. He realizes her hesitation and picks up her fallen dupatta and offers it to her but Amma takes it back. He might have wanted to talk to her but, before that, he is pulled out of his trance, by babuji and they bid him a goodbye.

Khushi turns back to look at him, one last time. Only that, this isn't the last time, they would be meeting. Alas. Khushi as well as we, don't even have an idea about, the depth, of his obsession with Khushi that, will go, after this moment.

18. Look at the absolute contrast, in the way, they introduced both the anti-hero and the main villain. At this point, half of the audience might have already started shipping Shyam and Khushi.

19. The sequence, at Gomti Sadan, is so freaking emotional. Khushi is, again, getting punished for the crime that she didn't even commit. (Or until they think that she shouldn't have left the house at all.)

20. Even babuji cannot come to forgive her, this time. Garima decides to send, both of them, away to Delhi. Buaji, who always had an over-reaction for every situation, was, a minute ago, shouting at both of them to say or do something, to punish Khushi,(She really likes to see Khushi suffering. Bloody sadist.) is shocked. Lol. "Dilli kauno davaai ki pudhia thori haee, ki ghol ke pilaay dio. Sab theek." (Delhi isn't some bundle of medicines that dissolving it in water and making it drink someone, would cure everything.)

21. The moment she realizes that she has to take both of the girl's responsibility, she spits out the water from her mouth. Lmao. She tries to convince both of them but is not successful. Her discomfort is so visible, as she gets to taste the result of her instigation. LMAO. LMAO. LMAO. Buaji ab maza aaya? Lol.

22. Anjali comes in with a thaali, diya and some incense sticks burning. Arnav is immediately irritated at the sight of his Didi (initially he used to call her 'didi' then he resorted to 'Di').

23. She asks about whether he ever thought about the well-being of 'that girl' before creating such a huge ruckus and Arnav, I think, is caught off guard.

24. We are immediately taken to 'that girl', who is so innocent that she could not even think that her 'woh' had released those 'taswirein'.

25. She vows to find out who was the one to release them.

26. Deepali's foundation was so off, in this scene. (Literally, her face looks so pale.)

27. Payal asks Khushi, in a challenging(or admonishing?) way, that how will she find out, ready to scold her, for even mentioning to do something else, lest it worsens the already messy situation, they are in.

28. Screen cuts to Arnav, still in his thoughts (maybe regretting? Lol. No.) as he comes out of his reverie and says " Soch ke hi toh kiya tha." (It was a thought out move.)

29. Liar. (Liar, pants on fire. Lol.) No. You were not thinking when you ordered for those videos to be released, Arnav. Why are you lying then? Tell your Didi that you did it, in a fit of rage, to show 'someone' that you actually hold a lot of power. Bloody b_stard.

30. Lol. "Ab aap apna yeh 'naari mukti morcha', yahan mat nikaliye, yeh mera office hai." (Now, please don't start your 'Women's Liberation March' here, this is my office.)

31. Lmao. The brother-sister banter is so heart warming and fun to watch :)

32. Both Khushi and Payal reach the office of 'Khabrein 24x7' (News 24x7). Khushi, is nervous, and clutches Payal's hand in fear. Payal understands her distress and smiles victoriously, that now she will be able to convince her sister, to return back to their comfort zone.

33. But, her sister is more courageous than she seems to be. And, true to her nature, she tells Payal to take a seat and walks up to the reception, gulping nervously.

34. She asks to have a word with their company's 'maalik' (owner). But, the receptionist tells her, for that she would have to go to Delhi.

35. After a few minutes of deciding, when she wants to talk, to the receptionist again, she tells her to wait for sometime without paying any attention that she is 'the same girl'.

36. Sometime later, the workers of the office realize that Khushi is that 'TV wali ladki' and they start mocking her and make fun of her situation. They circle her in the center of the office and keep laughing.

37. Payal is disappointed and reduces to tears immediately, she quickly walks up to Khushi but loses the courage to take her out of it, as her feet get frozen, due to the nervous-ness, by all that negative attention, that, they are getting.

38. Khushi noticing, that her sister is getting affected by the mess that they have managed to land into, speaks up. She, while shedding tears, knocks some sense into them. And they are.....umm, immediately regretting it? No realization?

I mean to say that they could have shown them realizing their mistake, like, they could have taken some time? Then, that, 'sorry we were wrong' could have made much more sense. Did you too feel that? No? Only me? Ok. Leave it. (Pata nahi choro.)

39. So. Yeah. They 'feel' sorry immediately. And regret it. But, Khushi does not want their apology. She wants the answers which she had come for. They reveal that they got the orders from the higher authorities ('Woh clippings release karne ke orders upar se aaye the.')

40. Khushi asks who send them those clippings and is unsurprisingly shocked. I know. I don't make sense. But. Let me explain. See. She is so naive, that, she didn't even realize the extent of power and influence that ASR commands.

Just because, she got to 'talk' to him personally, in a fairly public place (The Dargah), without any appointment, in his own office, doesn't mean that he is not 'that' much influential. It's just, he chose to have a conversation about the topic with her. He could have easily ignored her. But, he didn't.

So, my point is, she could not even come to think that only he would be the one, who could do this, even after, getting into a heated argument with 'The ASR'. She had already started treating him like an acquaintance. Like, he is a random normal person, just like her. And, not some Business Tycoon of the Fashion Industry. She had already started treating him like an equal, like a normal person, of her 'status'.

41. So. She's shocked. Screen stops at her face. Precap begins. *quickly pauses it* Spoilers. (Although I had already watched it once earlier *smiles nervously* I am not a hypocrite, okay? I had watched it out of excitement.)Ok. Bye.

P.S. : No P.S. Bye. Have a great day/night ahead. God bless you.

#arnav and khushi #arnav singh raizada #arshi #ipkknd #khushi kumari gupta #iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #no tags today #lol #ok bye

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