#teardrop's escape

[wheredidmybooksgo]

Villain Arc Teardrop official design!

[wheredidmybooksgo]

NEW OC!! - Aquelis!

where am I?

[ecstasturns]

guilty perv!chris won’t let himself cum over a wet dream about you

sweat soaked through his plain white shirt, he stopped between heavy pants to grasp the hem of the top and clenched the thin fabric between his teeth.

a hiss rode the cold waves of air from the AC. the only thing keeping Chris from having a heat stroke in the confines of his room. your thought lingered on his mind, leaving a cloud of guilt hanging over his conscience.

“f-fuck, i’m sorry…” he muttered to himself, the dream replaying in his head like a movie. one rated 18+. “the things you did to me. your hand around my co-”

a strangled moan escaped through his parted lips at his knuckles whitening against his erection. and though it was his hand, he imagined it was yours. he imagined your face there, grinning at how pathetic he was.

“pathetic. so so p-pathetic—ngh!”

when the pressure began to build up, causing his lower stomach to tense, Chris’ head fell slack onto the pillow behind him. gasping as he struggled to focus on the ceiling, he shook his head.

a stray teardrop coursed down his face as Chris tore his hand away from the almost satisfied ache pulsing through his dick. almost.

but he couldn’t do it. he couldn’t let himself cum. no, he had to punish himself for the things he thought about you constantly. for the way he pictured you on top of him after time you made eye contact.

“m’sorry…”

𐔌 file.an — first blurb !! send in requests and follow if you fw it. perv!chris is #2d4z. also heavily inspired by mattscoquette’s perv!matt.

© ecstasturns

[sillygoose067]

Home Is Where the Heart Is

Lewis Pullman x Reader

It had been twenty-four days since Lewis left for filming. Twenty-four days since mornings began with the shrill insistence of your alarm clock, instead of his sleep-warmed arms and a kiss pressed sleepily to your shoulder. Twenty-four days since laughter wove through the walls of your shared home, settling like sunlight in corners you hadn’t realized were cold.

You weren’t counting—at least not in the conventional sense. There were no red X’s slashed across calendar squares. Instead, you counted in smaller, stranger ways: the number of times you'd reheated the same mug of coffee before remembering to drink it. The number of evenings you fell asleep with the television still murmuring in the background, a poor substitute for the timbre of his voice.

The number of hours you stayed overtime at work. The number of breaths that stuttered unexpectedly, as if missing him had lodged itself somewhere just beneath your ribs—less emotion, more affliction.

And today… today, the silence was louder than usual. Thicker. Hungrier. You couldn’t afford to sit still. Stillness invited thoughts, and thoughts invited ache.

So you made a list.

Not because the chores mattered—most didn’t—but because action made the ache bearable. Movement diluted memory. Grocery store. Post office. Clean the guest bathroom. Buy light bulbs. Return the sweater you never wore but bought the day after he left because you needed something new to touch. You clung to motion like a shield.

The grocery store parking lot glinted under a tired sun, and as you pulled in, your breath caught. Someone stepped out of their car in a leather jacket—tall, broad-shouldered, head bowed as they scrolled through their phone. Your heart leapt before your mind could stop it. But it wasn’t him. Of course it wasn’t. You exhaled slowly, jaw clenched. Lewis would’ve come with you, taken forever choosing cereal, kissed your temple while you debated between Gala and Fuji apples. Your hand hovered over the Galas, frozen. Then you pulled away.

At the post office, you accidentally called the clerk “babe” when he handed you your receipt. The word slipped out too easily, and the rush of blood to your cheeks was instant and scorching. You apologized in a flurry. The clerk smiled awkwardly. Lewis always said it to you in passing, casual and warm, like it was just another part of your name.

By late afternoon, you were back home and unraveling quietly. You scrubbed the kitchen floor on your hands and knees, then the stovetop, then the baseboards. When the scent of lemon cleaner became too sharp, you moved to the spice rack and reorganized it alphabetically, top to bottom, your fingers trembling. It wasn’t until you saw the single, perfect teardrop land in the jar of cumin that you realized you were crying.

And then— ding. The sound cut through the stillness like a matchstrike in the dark.

Incoming FaceTime: Lew 💞

You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your sweatshirt and answered with fingers that barely felt like your own.

And there he was. Grinning. Sweaty. Alive in the way that only he could be—bottle of water in one hand, curls damp with effort, eyes soft the moment they landed on you.

“There’s my girl,” he breathed, the smile in his voice wrapping around you like a coat you hadn’t realized you needed.

“There’s my movie star,” you murmured, and it came out softer than you’d intended. Like the words had curled inward, into your throat, before escaping.

He tilted his head. Studied you. “You okay?”

You forced a smile, the corners of your lips trembling with the weight of holding it all in. “Kept busy today. Ran errands, cleaned the house. You know… trying not to think too much.”

His silence was tender. Understanding. Heavy with the kind of love that didn’t need to be spoken to be felt.

“Set’s chaos,” he said, a little sheepish. “We just wrapped a night scene. Wanna say hi to some people?”

You nodded and shifted on the couch, curling your knees up beneath you like he used to.

The camera flipped, and you were suddenly staring into the glow of Florence Pugh’s grin.

“We miss you!” she chirped. “Lewis won’t shut up about you. Seriously. It’s almost annoying.”

David Harbour leaned into frame, brows raised in mock exasperation. “He’s getting unbearable. For the love of God, send help.”

Sebastian Stan’s voice came from somewhere off-camera, dry as ever. “He’s in love. What can you do?”

And just like that—you laughed. Real and unguarded. The sound startled you, sharp and unfamiliar in your own ears.

“I hope you’re all making fun of him relentlessly,” you managed, wiping at your eyes.

“Every damn day,” Florence grinned.

The camera swung back to Lewis, who rolled his eyes so hard you could practically hear it. “Don’t listen to them. I’m cool. Totally cool.”

“You’re an absolute mess,” you said fondly.

And then… it quieted.

Not the silence of absence. The silence of everything tender and unsaid.

“I miss you,” he said, almost inaudibly.

Your smile faltered. “I miss you too.”

There was a beat—a moment suspended in digital time, a thousand miles long and exactly four inches wide, between his screen and yours.

“I’ll call you before bed,” he promised. “Even if it’s late.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“Love you more.”

And then the screen went dark.

You stared at the reflection of your own face in the black glass, thumb hovering just above the edge like maybe if you didn’t move, he’d still be there.

Eventually, you set the phone down. Gently. Reverently. Like it was something sacred.

The silence crashed over you, slow and certain. Not a void but a pressure, filling your ears, your chest, your limbs. It pressed in on the house. On you. It had weight, that quiet. It spoke—not in words, but in absence.

You sat there, motionless, for the first time all day. And you realized: the ache wasn’t only around you. It was you.

The house, once loud with the symphony of shared life—his laugh, the soft thud of his boots by the door, the whisper of his body beside yours in sleep—had gone still. Not peaceful. Just empty.

You tried to hold onto the call. The joy. The way he said your name like it meant something.

But when you finally turned off the lights and crawled into bed, it all slipped through your fingers.

The pillow beside you was cold. The sheets, undisturbed.

You reached for his hoodie, still draped over the back of the chair. Pulled it close, up to your chin. It smelled like him. Faintly. Enough to hurt.

Curled inward, small and silent, you whispered into the dark: “Come home soon.”

And then, with a heart still full of love and a body heavy with ache, you closed your eyes...

---

It began with your toothbrush. You dropped it one morning — sudden, sharp — the ceramic clattering in the sink like a cracked echo. And you stood there, frozen, chest rising and falling in ragged, uncontrollable waves. It wasn’t the toothbrush. It was everything. The empty half of the bed, sheets untouched and cold. The coffee mug he always used, still faintly stained, sitting lonely on the counter. The hollow stillness that draped the rooms like a shroud, turning your home into a shrine for when he was here.

You had held it together. You had tried. Endless lists scrawled with desperate purpose. Endless errands run with hurried feet, hands busy so your mind wouldn’t wander. FaceTime calls that always ended too soon—fingers reluctant to say goodbye, voices trembling with distance. But missing him had become something physical, raw—like your bones had hollowed out, leaving space only he could fill.

And then, in a moment you barely recognized as courage, you did the one thing you’d tried not to let yourself consider.

You unlocked your phone, findin Lewis' manager's contact, hands trembling so much the screen blurred. To: Aidan Hi! I hope you’re well. I know Lewis is busy with filming and I don’t want to disrupt, but… would it be possible for me to visit the set? I really miss him. I promise to stay out of the way and follow all protocols. I just… I need to see him.

You stared at those words for five endless minutes, heart hammering between hope and fear, before you pressed send. The rest of the day was a painful pendulum between regret and wild, tentative hope.

The next morning, the soft ding of a reply pulled you from a restless sleep.

Aidan: Hey! Absolutely. We’ve got a light schedule Friday through Sunday. I’ll get you cleared and send the details. Lewis has no idea—this’ll be a surprise. 😉

You barely finished reading before your suitcase was flying open. Jeans, your favorite worn-in top, the hoodie he loved to steal and bury his face in, the little travel perfume he always wore—your fingertips brushed each item as if they were talismans. The house seemed to exhale as you snapped the suitcase shut, like it finally sensed relief from the weight of your grief.

The flight was a haze of clouds and restless pacing, your fingers never letting go of your phone—rereading old texts, studying his blurry selfies from the set, clutching the fragile threads of anticipation.

---

Outside the studio lot, Aidan waited, eyes twinkling conspiratorially. “He’s filming a short scene. Give it ten minutes. Trailer 7.”

You thanked him a dozen times, maybe more, voice catching with disbelief and relief.

Your heart thundered as you approached the trailer door.

You raised your fist, knocked.

The knock sounded soft against the trailer door, but to you, it felt deafening. Your heart thundered in your chest, your palms damp, stomach tied in anxious, hopeful knots.

Inside, you could hear him moving. A faint thump. A zipper. A quiet hum—his voice, singing under his breath, the same way he did at home when he thought no one was listening. It made your throat tighten.

Then the door creaked open.

And there he was.

Lewis stood frozen, eyes wide like he’d seen a ghost, breath catching audibly in his throat. His damp curls clung to his forehead, shirt wrinkled from a costume change, and his jaw dropped just slightly. For a second, he didn’t speak—just stared at you like he was trying to convince himself you were real and not something his exhausted brain had conjured.

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice barely holding together.

He didn’t reply.

You barely had time to inhale before he was wrapping his arms around you and lifting you off the ground in one sweeping, desperate motion. Your breath left you in a soft gasp as you buried your face in his shoulder, arms locking around his neck like you’d never let go again. His scent hit you—sweat and laundry detergent and that faint, unmistakable trace of his cologne—and your eyes stung instantly.

His grip was crushing. Like he thought if he didn’t hold you hard enough, the moment would disappear. You could feel the way his chest shook against yours—ragged, uneven—and when you pulled back slightly to look at him, there were tears pooling in his eyes.

“You’re here,” he said, like a confession. Like a miracle. “You’re really—fuck, I missed you.”

“I couldn’t stay away anymore,” you whispered, brushing your fingers through the back of his hair. “I kept trying, Lewis, I really did. But everything felt wrong without you.”

He brought a hand to your face like it was instinct, like he needed to feel you under his fingers. His thumb traced your cheekbone, trembling slightly, his gaze roaming your features like he was relearning you.

“I was going out of my mind,” he said hoarsely. “I haven’t slept, I haven’t breathed right. I kept telling myself to hold it together but—God, seeing you right now—”

You didn’t let him finish.

You surged forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t gentle— anything but, really. It was messy and raw and breathless, lips crashing like waves breaking after too long at sea. He kissed you back with everything he had—both hands on your face now, thumbs brushing away tears that neither of you tried to stop. You gripped his shirt like a lifeline, desperate to close every inch of space between you.

There was nothing careful about it.

It was grief and relief and longing, pouring out of you in gasps against his mouth, all the nights apart colliding in the heat of that moment.

He exhaled shakily against your lips, forehead resting against yours. His nose brushed yours, and his voice dropped to something so quiet it barely existed.

“Don’t leave again,” he whispered.

“I won’t,” you breathed, voice cracking. “Not until you’re done. I was cleared by the staff.”

He closed his eyes, holding you like the world might split if he let go.

You smiled through the tears, kissed his jaw, his cheek, his temple.

And for the first time in weeks, the ache in your chest began to soften.

You were still wrapped in each other when someone knocked on the trailer door and called Lewis back to set.

He rested his forehead against yours and groaned. “Give me one good reason not to fake a broken ankle.”

You laughed, and the sound made his eyes close like a prayer.

“You’ll finish the scene,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over his lips, “and then you’ll come back to me.”

[edensrose]

˖ 𑣲 The Dragon's Flower ✧ Sweet Sin

˚₊‧꒰ა dragon.ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ sacrfice.ᐟ reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ after deciding to stay with the supposed “heartless dragon” & learn his ways of magic, you find yourself growing fond of him. as you both grew closer, it's only natural that you'd notice him avoiding you one week. you venture to his room in concern one day, and find him in a peculiar position . . . ꒰ ᡣ𐭩 ꒱ monster romance ˖ dragon heat ˖ conflicted toru ˖ handjob ˖ ovipósition mention ˖ kinda angsty end ˖ 2.9k ˖ the dragon's flower masterlist

໒꒱ ‧₊˚ eden , ain't none of you prepped. link in the fic is to help visualise the dick ( shape not colour ) ⌇ art cred : myuchiisu

Cool tones painted the mountaintop. Azure streams and rivers, the pale, sometimes murky sky. White orchids and lotus flowers that waved in serene breezes to clouds kissing the the citadel. A world of blue and white, much like its master — mow, all washed into something warmer, fiery.

Red faced, bathed in the auburn glow of candles and cloaked in sandalwood incense. Even his eyes, while the same bright blue, peered like two coals from beneath heavy white lashes. Smouldering, crackling, were dragons not susceptible to fire?

"Satoru." All formality drained the second you spotted his shaky form on the futon. White haori nowhere in sight and his dark, unbuttoned kimono pooling around his waist. That scaly heap slumped over his lower half must be his tail. Had it grown larger or was that the dimness?

His strained pants would have anyone believing he flew around the mountain ten times and over. With the shaky limbs and beads of sweat caught in the candle flickers, you wouldn't be too surprised.

Something rumbled. His voice? Deep, grave and as murky as the waters that brought you here.

"You need to leave."

Shivers pricked your spine. You might have mistook it for the first time you saw him if fear bloomed with it. Fear, how could you? Even with his jaw tight, scales littering him like the white-jade and those slitted eyes cloudier than the mountain's midnight haze, he was still Satoru.

Your body still drew to him. "Are you alright?" Your knees met the futon and he grunted with a shift. You followed, but irritation caught on your legs halted you. Claw marks etched in cotton with glistening sharpness coiled beneath fists as the culprit. Are those longer too?

As a woman raised in a superstitious village who wailed when someone cut their nails at night or flinched when combs broke, you should have known better. But instead of alarm bells, all you heard were wind chimes.

Because this was Satoru. The man who tickled instead of clawed, laughed instead of bit, protected the valley when villagers claimed he had a taste for hearts. Not a monster.

"Sweet girl," he called in a quake. "I'm fine, promise." You've seen enough of his smiles to know when they're fake. "Please, just. . . you need to leave, sweet girl." The name repeated, it eased him more than the cold springs.

"Like hell . . . are you sick? Can dragons even get sick?" He'd fall off the futon if he tried to escape, so you advantageously shifted nearer. With closer inspection you spotted gills in lithe, blue patterns from below his ears to just before his jawbone. Scales shimmered on full display all over his lower neck, collarbone and down his chest. Another glimmer belonged to a pair of tiny, teardrop-shaped. . . pearls? engraved above his navel.

Realisation snapped your venturing gaze back up. Your hand flushed against his forehead to mask your embarrassment. His tensing became your distraction.

"You're burning up . . ."

"No shit, sweetheart."

Iridescent claws displayed as he raised to your hand with a groan. But he didn't dare touch. As if only a graze of your skin would burn him like dark magic. Dark . . .

You quirked, "did you get spelled by miasma?" With the same exuberance of a student that recalled the technique seconds from peril. A dragon's weakness to dark magic rushed to your mind, courtesy of all Satoru had taught you.

Alas, he shook his head with another groan. You slumped your shoulders and pouted. "Please, I'm too old for that. Said that was for younger dragons, remember?"

"Well excuse me, old man."

At least that earned a laugh but your face remained. too concerned with every heave of his chest and stuttered breath, not to mention that his gaze kept running from yours. What, were you fire now? "Tell me what's going on," you urged and carefully traced your fingers along the side of his neck. He flinched. Perhaps your touch was a flame.

"Satoru —"

"Fuck, I'm serious."

Her jerked back. You halted, but not because he denied your touch for once. Low and dreary, the rumbled growl belonged to the night and yet . . . you still drew closer.

Stubborn as always. Like the incense, his gaze wavered, to and fro. Peeking, hiding. From himself or something you couldn't decipher?

Your eyes followed the quick drop of his hand and beat him to it. Prodding up into the fabric of his kimono, a tent awaited. As a village girl spoonfed the importance of chastity, you should have flinched at the sight. But while you knew purity's name, she didn't know yours.

Whose face was brighter? Maybe his with that infuriatingly smooth pale skin and snowy hair that almost left him glowing even in the candlelight. In all your months staying here, not once had red paint his face more vibrant than his stupid grins ever did. Nor did he ever attempt to hide or stutter.

"Are you happy now? Go, I can't have you here."

Can't. Not won't. Not I don't want. You pressed your lips together.

"Could you tell me what's going on?"

"Stubborn girl," even his growl laced with affection. He snapped you a sharp look and huffed heavily. "I'm in heat. Rut. Whatever you humans call it. And right now, you cannot be here."

He always prided himself on teaching you about the mystics hidden in this world, but your curiosity would be the death of him. Only seconds after discovering he was erect, you still had questions. Is that why they sacrificed you? — no, that's mean. Why they sacrificed you and why he couldn't have you in his room right now were the same reason. Not with your image in his mind . . .

"Satoru." Not when you said his name like that. Not when every syllable whispered a sin he wasn't willing to commit.

"Let me help."

You were definitely sacrificed for more than just your pretty face.

You'd think you had stolen his tide jewels with the glare he shot you, but even that was pathetic. If you asked prettily enough he'd pluck them from his flesh and press them into your palm with a kiss to each knuckle.

Satoru realised something frightful in your near-year on the mountaintop. To pry his eyes from a lotus flower such as yourself, or deny her, were impossible feats — and right now? Only his mind rejected the offer. Barely.

"Absolutely not." He sat up, miscalculating how he'd flush up into you as a result. At last he touched you, his large palm knocked clumsily on your shoulder. "Are you crazy? Aren't you a village girl? Haven't they taught you better?"

"Thought me pulling a knife on you back then should have answered that question."

"You're not a human, you're a siren."

"Thought those didn't affect you?" Neither should your hand that brushed on his wrist and your body that swayed closer to him, like tides kissing the shores when his kimono caressed your yukata. Sirens didn't affect him, and yet your voice masked in the song of one did.

Your boldness knew no bounds. Instead of blades aimed for his eyes, your hands trace a tender path down to his chest. Your fiery palms flattened against heated skin, he gasped.

A divine being. One of wisdom, strength, restraint, but you weaved all that away with only your pretty fingers, effortlessly. Fate? Maybe you were destined for him, perhaps as a punishment. For no matter how much his palms itched to touch your smooth skin, you were a lotus flower he swore to view from afar.

"I can't."

"You won't?"

"I can't."

Satoru caught your hand in sync with a breath lodged in his throat. He couldn't stop the other — no, he wouldn't. Not when it caressed his thigh and made him mouth forgiveness prayers to the gods. Wasn't he a god? You touched him like a devotee.

He tried. Tried to will away. Tried to focus on anything but your fingers tracing circles on his inner thigh. Calming him as if he were the inexperienced —

"Aren't you a virgin?" He quivered.

"How polite." You smiled.

If he had manners to begin with he might have apologised. "I'm serious. Don't they send 'village girls of purity' or something like that?" Every second word caught with a heave. You hand weighed as an anchor than a petal. Guilt pooled in his gut, but desire clawed at it.

"You shouldn't - fuck." Restraint drained and his claws shot out for you when your palm stroked over his bulge. He grappled onto dignity last minute and caught the futon in the crossfire. Four more streaks torn into the cotton. Couldn't it be your yukata instead? No —

"This," he gulped. "This is wrong. Not like this."

"And what if it's my decision?"

"Then it's a stupid one." Your lips inched closer, his pressed to your knuckles instead. Your hand shook in his hold but he still held tight. His lifeline. His ruin. "I'm a mythical beast." Not with the way he whimpered. "A creature. . ."

"No." If dragons didn't need air, why did all leave his lungs when you slipped past his kimono? The belt pulled with the last bit of his dignity. Your hand ghosted flesh you knew not of. "You're just Satoru."

He avoided your lips so you kissed his jaw instead. When your soft words tensed all his muscles, you glanced down. Far from human. Divine. Never had you seen a man bare before, but you knew no mere man could compare to this.

Pale, like the rest of him, and tall too - his dick sprung from the confines. While fleshy, the ridges were pronounced. Two in particular, on either side, extended from his base and flowed with the double-curve of his length. Once at the middle and another before his tip. Girthy, with smaller ridges along the underside. The head's thickness matched the rest of him with several other ridges that had you biting on your lip. Slick, pearly beads circled his throbbing tip. One slowly tricked down the underside, emphasising the swell of his cockhead. Whether natural or erect-induced, you're uncertain, but you gulped.

To big. Especially for you. But, ever as ambitious, your fingers traced over the underside's ladder of ridges. Another gasp. His gaze fluctuated between your face overly curious hand.

He tried again, pitifully. "You shouldn't . . ."

You smiled, impishly. "Then stop me."

A challenge. A promise. You'd stop if he made you — but how could he when he felt that his fingers wrapped around his girth barely touched? How could he even dream of trying to keep your chastity when you so willingly proved you never had any of it to begin with?

Inexperienced nowhere in sight. Your stuttered pumping laced with a confidence for his pleasure drove him wild.

The rumble returned in heavy groans and his hold tightened. Every fibre of him failed to keep his cock from twitching in your delicate hand. You had long-since watered down his restraint. Even gentle tides wore-out rocky shores.

No twitches, he throbbed. Not only did he groan - he moaned, unabashed, ashamed, but still desperate for your gaze from beneath his feathery, fluttering lashes.

You broke the stare to admire him. Even when his cock trembled in your hand, it was dainty by comparison. The strokes aimed from the middle to his tip, until you grew fluid and lengthened your pumps. Induced by the sticky mess from his pronounced cockslit.

Satoru's head flicked back. Gods, were you really a virgin? Was he a centuries-old being? He melted into your silken hand like sea foam. Your name a prayer on his lips.

"Sweetheart," he breathed - whined, when you stuttered around his tip. "I'm . . . committing something long since forbidden."

An apology, but not to you. Something greater, sacred, and still — he fell into the sin of your thumb circling on his tip. Bringing pleasure and ruin in a devastating, blissful gift to his body. So pent-up, so untouched. Heats were spent with his own palm and sometimes a pillow, but never the touch of another.

Careful, you might make him addicted — your lips kissed along his slit. He gasped. Scratch that, he already was.

"So sensitive . . ." Susceptible to fire or not, one lit in his gut as you crooned. He pushed his palm behind your head and cupped your neck. Claws a threat, but never a promise. Reverently, they traced your skin in-tune with your tongue swirling sinful circles, smearing his slick.

Your first time be damned. What's with the audacity?

"Who knew you were such a brat." His grip tightened, you had the nerve to laugh. A challenge clung to your lashes when your pretty eyes flashed up. What could he do with the way he throbbed?

"This brat's making you feel soo good though, right Satoru?"

"You— fucckk."

His neck grip paled to your squeeze on his cock. His jaw slacked with every quickened, pressured pump. Every tantalising kiss spelling out his ruin in slick smooches. Pre-cum bubbled, hot, and you swiped it away with your hotter tongue. Burns flooded his veins, and you only fanned the flames. His groans outweighed your slurps, your scent outmatched the incense.

How he wished to shut you up with his tip kissing the back of your throat. See how much you have to say with your lips strained round his girth. No challenges in your eyes, only tears. You'd be the one ruined.

He bucked at the thought. The image danced across his vision but his self control together with his building orgasm cut the music. His base thrummed and you caught the rhythm. Your hand quickened, tongue lapping as if searching for liquid gold. Kitten licks turned to bold strokes, and then - oh devastating you - your mouth clung to his tip's underside in harsh sucks.

Not a groan, not a moan, but a quivered, depraved whimper. White hair tousled over his eyes fluttered to the ceiling. Hips chased in a sloppy cadence. His gut coils, as did his tail. Heavy and tight around your waist, but you ignored the warning.

"Damn - wait I —" Every muscle betrayed him. He should pull you off. Save your dignity. "Waaitt, sweet girl - ah - I'm gonna -" maybe he could manage.

"C'mon toru, please?"

Not with that whine. One last throb burst into heat. His swollen cockslit spilled with thick, creamy ropes streaming iridescence. You watched a swollen bulb rush up to his head, then disappearing as it slowly sank to the base. His body jerked together with his head. Laid open for you as the image of sin with his saviour between his legs. A young village girl, her hand stained in his pearly cum and her tongue so diligently lapping away at his endless mess.

"Shit - sweetheart," another whimper, deeper than his eyes turned into murky pools. Yet it was he who drowned. Flailing so helplessly with your sweet, slithery hand slowing pumps as the lifeline.

He grabbed it. Your wrist dwarfed as he yanked you into a topple over him. Any restraint melts with his orgasm as he braced large hands over the swell of your ass. Slot between your legs and grinding feral bucks, he caught your body in sensual sways.

You gasped and limped into him, fisting on his kimono. Why not his back? Oh the fantasy of you struggling to hold on while he fucked you into the futon. Thighs split, sweet cunt stretched — fuck, would you squeeze him tighter than your hand did? How would you feel struggling to take his cum? Straining around his eggs —

Dignity knocked the thought out the second his claws bit your yukata's hem. Only flimsy fabric kept him from your body he's been dreaming of for months, but now it felt like an iron cloak. Sacred to his filthy hands.

His touched jerked away as if scalded and your hazy eyes raised. Cock still throbbing between your legs. Your slick awaited, calling.

Yet he only stared. Frozen from the depths to which his mind crawled. Two seconds from throwing you into the futon. Teaching you why you should stay away from beasts, and now, he truly felt like a monster. Instead of cum on your palm, it's scarlet, instead of heated pants, it's nerves.

What had he done?

"Satoru?"

Not that voice. It broke him once. He won't fall for it again. Not those hands reaching for his face — not a fool, not this time.

In the blink of the eye, like the turn of the tides, his weight disappears beneath you. Your knees hit the futon and you gasped. Your gaze shot around the room in a frantic search but only blue smoke dissipating into the air caught your attention.

Distant, cold. Birthed from the heat of passion, came anything but in the following week. For the first and second day, Satoru had vanished. Around the third, thank heavens white and blue captured your heart before anxiety did.

You hoped he'd speak with you. Surprisingly, your attempts bore sweet fruit. He held conversation as he always did. Spoke like nothing happened.

But that was the issue. Because something did happen, and he refused to acknowledge it.

At first you took it as embarrassment, but as the days droned on, the distance between you both was as clear as the frost creeping onto citadel's wooden pavilions. Icy, lonesome. Your fate? Would the warmth of that blissful night be your last here at the mountain?

Until he called you into his office and you held hope in your hands like seeds ready to sow a new chapter. A new —

"Don't try to stab me again when I say this," Satoru turned from the wind chime, a familiar scroll in hand. Your eyes widened. His were lost. Even in his attempt to joke.

"But maybe . . . it'd be better if you were away from the mountaintop. Away from me."

© 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆 . no copying, translation or plagiarism authorised

[tmwcs]

Little Red Riding Hood - Finale.

Pairings: Jake and fem!y/n

Warnings: Werewolf Jake (should already tell you). Knotting, noncon/subcon smut, cnc (both rough and light), oral (fem receiving), smut, breeding kink, detailed smut, hints of murder, kidnapping yandere love.

Authors note: here we go part two (finale) of RRH. Again this is not proofread but I don’t think that matters. Enjoy!

Taglist: @strxwbloody @nshmrarki @aquariushiiiii @addictedtohobi @nuriicata @lilyuwon

You dropped the picture and quickly made your way back to the car. The driver was still nowhere in sight, which may have been in your favor considering the evidence discovered. You quickly turn the car around, figuring the best and quickest way to notify the authorities was to head back. Pulling up, you park the car in the driveway and rush inside. You picked up the phone and dialed the police, but the line was silent. You frantically dialed a series of numbers before slamming the phone back down. You rushed to the nearest neighbor and knocked on the door and carried over to the windows once you realized that no one was home. House to house, you knocked on every door in sight and still, no one was around–the entire neighborhood was empty. The moment seized you as you realized you were all alone. Discomfort rid you of all your calmness and you run back inside your grandmother's house, praying that she would return any second. You went up the stairs and tried the telephone in the master bedroom, but the line remained dead. “Shit!”

Your tenacity takes over as you continue to try dialing a series of phone numbers hoping that one of them would go through. Just as you were re-dialing your parents home phone, a creak from behind bolts a shiver down your spine. The door behind was opening. Your breaths begin to shutter as the realization hit that you were not alone inside the house. You froze—unable to turn as the rhythm of fear and anxiety stills you. You couldn’t even say a word or scream at this point.

You remained still. Too frightened to even be curious as to who was behind staring at you. “G-grandma?” You trembled, hoping to high hopes that you would get a response in her voice.

Slowly, you pivot on the heel of your foot and simultaneously lower the phone as you come face to face with the man across the room. Somehow, you were in disbelief even with him staring directly at you. Tears begin to form as you feel all sense of hopelessness. You frown hysterically as you watched a smirk appear on that handsome face. “J-Jake?—Wha-what are you doing here?”

A thousand questions riddle in your brain. A few teardrops turned into a river flow of sobs as you bestowed a pleading countenance. The blood curdling scream didn’t escape past your pursed lips until you dropped the phone, which is when he decided to strike at you. His movements were fast—too fast. He moved like a flash of light. Despite his rough handling, you got the hint that he didn’t have any intentions in hurting you—at least not that you could see for now. He shoved you over the old console table that was stationed in front of the large floor mirror propped in the corner of the room. “My poor girl. He gave you such a hard time, didn’t he?”

You furrowed your brows in confusion as he pinned your toned against the flat surface of the table. You turn your head to look back, expressing your bewildered state. You couldn’t even speak. The smile that permanently etched his face caught you off guard as he grinds his pelvis against your rear end. “Don’t worry. Daddy took care of him.”

You panic as you hear his words echo against the bedroom walls. Immediately, you realize his unlawful intentions as he shoves himself against you, reaching around touching you. “S-stop!”

He chuckles at your demand and sucks in your neck. “Tasty. You smell good too.” His leathered gloved hands trail upward and tugs on your dress, ripping it with ease. “Stop! Don’t!”

Reaching around your face, he cups your jaw and turns your face towards his. “You don’t really want me to stop, do you?”

Whether it was that smooth voice or his handsome gaze, somehow you lost your composure to express your displeasure. You froze, and so did your voice. He chuckles once more before sealing your lips in a deep and tender kiss. Breaking contact, his skin brushes against you as he whispers, “nah, didn’t think so.”

The tearing of whatever remained from your dress had you crying, yet his touch and kisses made you moan. You were conflicted between fear, despair, and pleasure. The more he kept doing, the more it had put you in turmoil. Especially when he kept huffing under his breath, telling you things that made your mind travel in circles.

Fuck, you smell so good. Your skin is so smooth. You’re mine. All fucking mine.

By the time he had you completely stripped, with only the small bit of tatters loosely draping your body, you caved in. The way his fingers moved and delicately tapped against your clit made you see stars. He was so good at it, no one could possibly blame you for how you reacted. “Yeah, baby? You fucking like that, hmm? Want me to eat you?” He whispers vigorously against your ear, further causing you to spiral downhill. “My pretty Red Riding Hood…let me take care of you. Fuck. Let me own you.”

Keeping his palm flat against your lower back, he presses down and stabilizes you. You remained still, knowing by his grip and aura that any movement would only result in chaos. Also, you found yourself not wanting to admit it, but you didn’t want to. With the way the tip of his nose trails down your spine and along the curve of your derrière, you found yourself craving more. The moment his nose grazed over your plush lips and exposed clit, your fingernails dig into the table. Your moans grow louder as he presses your cheeks together, keeping your thighs closed before he starts flickering his tongue at your womanhood. “Mmph! Stop! Fuck! Please stop!” You help out. Pleasure hits you like a bolt of lightning as you remain in denial. He doesn’t entertain in responding, instead he continues to emit long strokes of his tongue. The flat surface completely wipes you clean of your juices as he slowly licks from top to bottom, finishing off each swipe with the tip of it playfully digging into your nub. He did it so tenderly and smoothly, it was painful. “P-please!” You help as you slam your hands against the wood surface, yearning for more as he edges you on. The moment that caused your eyes to roll back was when he shoved his nose and mouth against the warm center and snarls. Chuckling deeply against your vulnerable spot made you feel things you never knew existed. “Oh! Oh my God! What are you doing to me—“

He chuckles once more, this time it nearly made you lose balance as your legs trembled. You found it hard to stand even with the support of the table under you. “Please—“

He snarls against your clit once more. “Yeah pretty girl?” His tongue pelts against your clit numerous times. In between he whispers in that accent of his. “Tell me you’ll be mine. Tell me you’ll be loyal.” He finishes off each demand with a squeezing kiss on your wet clit. Your breath hitches as you choke out each moan. “Hmm?” He mumbles while sucking on to your womanhood. Giving in, you nod hysterically as the tear drops fall before you, decorating the mahogany finish.

The sound of his belt unbuckling, his zipper coming undone, and his shirt being discarded had your heartbeat come to a pause. Half naked, his trousers loosely remain on as he brings out the gift of his build. You didn’t see it, even looking at the mirror in front. But the way he dragged it against the lining of your vaginal opening made you well aware that he was large. The tip alone was wider than your wrist. You shivered under his palm as you felt him breaching your entry. “Shh-sh-sh-shh.”

His shushing does nothing to clam you. The second he pokes in, you squirmed with regret. You shout out of how you changed your mind and that you wanted him to stop, but he pays no mind and keeps entering. The friction alone was enough to cause you to faint, but when he found himself half way in he scoffs. “Almost there.”

Your eyes enlarge. How could he still have more length to push in? There was no way you would be able to survive, he was already so deep. You try to push back and do everything you could to escape, but it was no use. With him hunched over your backside, pinning your wrists to the table, he coos you by whispering into your ear as you were forced to take in inch after inch. Finally, with the tip felt in the deepest part of you, he calmly stroked your hair as he guides you to breathe. You pant under the pressure of being stretched and torn open, yet he continues to be calm despite how tight your walls hugged him. “Breathe baby, breathe. That’s it. Aww…that’s my girl.”

You do exactly as he instructed, feeling some sort of relief as he begins to pull out. Yet when he has all but the tip nestled inside you, he jams it back in mercilessly. You scream out as your head jolts up. He keeps you steady as he pinches his grip against your waist and holds you in place as he makes you take in every single thrust. His hips move back and forth, stalling into you. Skin on skin, the slapping movements echo in the room, doing something to your mind as the thought of him doing the most unspeakable matches with the rhythm. It sends a tingle to your core and before you know it, your body responds by aiding him in his resolve. “Yeah that’s it. Get wet for me baby. Makes it easier for me to fuck you.”

He goes in deeper with each thrust, punching a soft spot that causes you to gush. It coats his lengthy muscle, making it more slick as he finds it easier to fuck into you. You pant and moan in satisfaction, yearning for more as he shoved the combined efforts of sweat and squalene back inside you, mixed with his precum. His pace picks up faster and faster, when suddenly he pauses as he buries his cock deep inside. You look up in the mirror, shaking and pitifully murmuring out with a pleading tone. “P-please…not inside…”

His eyes shift from admiring your derrière to staring back at you through the mirror. He laughs handsomely as he notes how beautiful you look in your disheveled state, all within his grasp. “That’s not how this works, pretty girl. I told you…”

He stretches his neck from left to right, squinting his eyes shut as he expresses relief. “You’re mine.” His voice became deeper. His grip becomes tighter. There was shallow wind breezing through yet the windows remained closed. The curtain was open, revealing a full moon that shined against your skin. Dripping from his mouth, large amount of drool stains your backside as you watched through the mirror. Something unruly was happening. Something abominable.

You tried to move away and release yourself from his grasp but the pain of his claws digging into you restrains you. They grew longer and his hair grew shaggy. His face morphs into something unreal as you watched in horror of the final product. He was jet black all around with ears that resembled the devil's horns. They were propped and sitting atop his large head, which resembled a wolf. His stature maintained a humanoid structure, defined by lean muscles and a combination of soft fur and smooth skin. You wiggle in pain as you feel his throbbing member swelling inside you. “Ah! Stop! Let go! What’s happening!?”

A clawed hand shoots up and around, covering your mouth. He suppresses your screams as he begins thrusting. This time, he truly was tearing into you as the shaft became terribly swollen and thick. His tip was even thicker. He picks up the pace and hits your spot multiple times, and your body betrays you once more as you felt yourself gaining pleasure mixed with pain each time he pushes into you. Your screams become prolonged moans as you watched the creature pelt into you from behind through the grand mirror. His eyes never breaking eye contact with you.

He keeps going, compelled to destroy your walls as he squelches his massive length inside. You reach up and pitifully latch onto the monstrous hand that covers your moans. He keeps his hold, gaining leverage as he forces you to raise your head, arch your back, and prop your perky rear in the air—allowing him more access to breed you. You find yourself conflicted once more as the feeling of getting fucked into oblivion takes over and eradicates your better judgement. This monster—this creature…it’s not human. Nothing about him is. Yet you found yourself wanting him to keep going and to do more. You wanted him to do it over and over again.

Watching the creature thrusting into you with the thought of him giving it to you forever sent a burning sense of desire in your core. Your nerves heat up and your muscles tightened. Your womanhood becomes more lubricated each time he thrusts inside and suddenly you yelp out a high pitched moan into his palm as you feel yourself coming undone. With your walls pulsating against his cock, he picks up the pace and goes even faster. The sound of his inhuman form slapping against you only made things more intense as you felt yourself creaming around his circumference. At the very bitter end of your orgasm, you hazily watched under half closed lids as the monster buries himself deep inside you one final time and howls at the full moon. He was cumming inside you.

Panting ferociously with animalistic tendencies, he loosens his stance and leans over you, resting his weight against your backside. He was heavy and dense, but he made sure to not completely release his massive size on you, avoiding breaking your spine. He growls and pants against your ear. Despite being so primitive, his clawed hands cradle over yours as he sniffs and licks your ear. You shutter at the act as it felt no different than a dog. Still, his humanness shows through as he rubs his thumbs over the back of each hand, comforting you. You attempted to move but found yourself stuck. You’re not sure if you were entirely confused, pleased, or mortified, or maybe all of the above. He was swollen and stuck inside you. You couldn’t pull him away.

You realized that the act of breeding-tie was being conducted as his cock continued to deep out his cum deep inside you, swelling itself to remain in to ensure successful breeding. Perhaps it was giving up the fight, but realizing what he was doing didn’t cause you to cry or become mortified. Instead, you laid calmly and continued to take on the beast's pants against your skin. Is this what giving up felt like?

The breeding tie lasted for hours. Finally, after he had returned to his human form, the beast—or rather, Jake, took his clothes and quickly dressed himself. He took your grandmother's sheet and adorned you as if you were a goddess. With inhuman strength, he carried your limp body and stowed you in the backseat of his car. You heard the doors secure as he starts the ignition. You were so tired and lifeless—so work out from the unspeakable act carried out earlier, you didn’t have the energy to even speak. All you could do was look up and watch through the window, the glorious full moon peering form the night sky as he drives off. Occasionally, he reached behind his seat, gently caressing your face. With a soft chuckle, he would whisper “all mine.”

……..

“Where are you going sweetheart?”

You snap your head back, flashing a subtle smile. “Hm? Oh–i’m just going to this interview about the job at the local library. I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Your dad raises a brow and takes a side glance over at the clock. “This late?”

“Mmhmm.” you respond as you slip on your shoe. “The interviewers gave out time slots, mine is at 4 pm.”

Your dad sighs. Reaching into his pocket, you hear the jingling of the key ring as he tosses them your way. “Take my car.”

You chuckle aloud. “Dad, I’ll be fine. I don’t want to worry about parking.” You attempt to return the keys back, but his insisting tone becomes more assertive as he explains about the recent happenings circulating the media reports. “Take my car–the library is ten miles out. I don't want you taking an uber either.” he looks at you sternly as he pushes your hand away, prohibiting you from giving back the key ring. “You know they still haven’t found that girl, right? The one who disappeared on her way to her grandmother’s house.”

You nod in response. “Yeah I know.”

He gingerly cups your cheek and softens his tone. “Take my car, it will put my mind at ease.”

You smile and nod. “Okay. thank you daddy.”

He wishes you luck as you exit the door. You set the address in the gps and maneuvered out of the long driveway and headed towards the main road, when suddenly your gps pops a notification, alerting you of traffic congesting the main road. Seeing that it would cause a delay, you decided to not risk missing out on the interview. You accept the recommended shortcut and follow the path which takes you on the backroad. Taking it easy, you maintain moderate speed. The overcrowding bush of trees surrounding the road accentuated the narrowness of the road, causing a slight sensation of uneasiness in your chest. At first you figured that you’d soon pierce through to the other side of town, when a heavy fog sets, thick enough to blot out the sunlight. You kept up with the route, figuring it would be best to turn around. Yet the absence of alternative pathways prevented you from doing so. The road became too small for you to do a u-turn without the risk of backing into the ditch that railed both sides of the route. Sticking to the route, you hoped that you would see light, or some other form of manmade feature. However, the deeper you went in, the more you felt yourself going away from modern civilization. There was no farmland, no street lights, buildings or houses–not even a single street sign.

The beeping from the dashboard notifies you of low gas. “Shit!” you whisper under your breath. You could have sworn that the tank was half full when you pulled out of the driveway. Checking your phone, you also noticed that your battery was at low percentage–too low. “What the hell?”

Strange, considering you were sure that the bar read at least forty percent when you left the house. You start to panic as you push through, when finally you see some lighting at a distance. “Oh my God! Finally.”

You pull up at the grand estate. The iron fence was tall and elegantly decorated by the blushing rose vine that was in full bloom. Fortunately the fence remained partially opened– looked to be by accident. Normally you knew better than to trespass so rudely, however, given the circumstance, this constituted an emergency. With no gas and a phone on the verge of dying, you needed help. Perhaps the owners would be understanding.

Your breath pauses as you pull further in and notice the enormous structure of the estate. It could hardly be called a mansion, considering that it resembled the palace of Versailles–both in size and aesthetic appeal. The gardens surrounding were well kept and the statues were pristine. “Wow…” you breathed out as you drove the car up to the front.

You walk up to the large entrance. Could someone possibly live here? You hoped that someone was inside, considering that this looked to be more of an establishment versus a home. The dim lighting gleaming through one of the windows up on what appeared to be the third floor gave you some hope. There wasn’t a doorbell, so you hoped that it was too intruding for using the heavy iron door knocker. It was large, and quite heavy, but you managed to admit three knocks as quietly and gently as possible. A few minutes went by and you wondered if it would be rude to admit three more, when suddenly the latch on the door begins to turn and the clicking sparks your relief.

You watch as the door opens and reveals an older gentleman, dressed elegantly in a suit with no jacket. Just a silk vest with a white button up paired with well pressed trousers. His shoes were of fine leather and shined without any blemish, and his hair neatly combed. “May I help you?”

You gulped at the tranquil tempo of his words as he spoke in a calm voice. “Um yes–I’m sorry to bother but I was wondering if you had a telephone I may use? My car ran out of gas and my phone is out of battery. I also seem to be lost.”

The gentleman, who appeared to be a butler of the estate, raised a brow as he darted his eyes between you and the car. “How did you manage to get here? You must be so far from home.” he questions, developing a concerned look as he waits for you to answer. You were confused, seeing as how you were only on the road for about twenty minutes, not at all too far from your parents house. “No, I live in town. I took a shortcut due to traffic.”

The elder man nodded. “I see.” He lets you in, and paves the way with his steady hand as he displays such courteous manners of respect and elegance. “Come in, please. I’m afraid we do not have a telephone, but you may stay a while to charge your cell-u-lar phone.”

It was no guess as to why this house wouldn’t have a telephone. At first it confused you, yet by the way he nearly spelled out the word “cellular”. If the owners were anything like this man, they were farther away from modernization than you could imagine. At least you were smart enough to have a charger and charging block with you. “Thank you.” you respond.

“Come with me, I’ll take you to a room where you can unwind and charge your phone. I’ll have madam bring you some tea.”

You thank the man. You felt overwhelmed by the sensational service he was providing, considering you weren’t an official guest. Following close by, you admired the grand features of the home. It was incredible. The architecture design was heavy on the traditional European taste, expressing the delicacy of mirrors, gold trimmings, crystal chandeliers, and arched hallways. The floor was made of glossy tile that was adorned by a fresh velvet rug that trailed the entire length of each area. You wanted to inquire more about the place but figured it would be too impeding since you were already intruding unannounced.

He halts abruptly, causing you to nearly bump into him. You were about to ask if everything was alright considering you both stood in the middle of the hallway. “Before we venture further, I must ask you to be as quiet as you can. My master is taking his nap, he must not be woken up. He gets…cranky.”

You chuckle softly, assuming the butler was referring to a child. “I understand. I know how children can be.” you spoke out presumptuously. The butler merely nodded and continued to lead you to a study. It was beautifully lavished with dark mahogany and velvet green accents with leather furnishings. A balcony presented black french doors that remained open to let the warm breeze in. “Wow…” you breathed out.

“There are outlets on each wall, you may use any one you like. Please have a seat and make yourself comfortable, madam will be in with some tea for you. Is there anything else you may need?”

You shake your head. “Oh no–thank you! You’re very nice. I will be fine, as soon as I am able to get a hold of my father I’ll be leaving. I am so sorry to bother you.” He remarks your gratitude with a small smirk. “It is not bothersome at all. It’s been many years since this household has received any guests, your presence is most welcome. Please let me know if there is anything else I can assist you with, and please remember…” he gently opens the door and looks back “about my master.”

You nod and assure that you will refrain from making any noise, and watch as the butler takes his leave.

Your phone starts to charge and you take a moment to look around the study. It was huge. Larger than most living rooms that you would find in common households, or even luxury ones. No doubt about it, this building puts the lifestyle of the rich and famous to shame. As you admired the beautiful wall trimming, you noticed a portrait on the next wall, mounted near the corner and across the magnificent desk. The large photo caught your eye as you closely admire the handsome man featured. Dressed well with beautiful auburn hair, his asiatic features stare deep into your soul as you breathe out. You’re not sure if you ever saw someone more attractive in your life. Since it was only a portrait, you wondered the effect this man would have had you met him in person, considering the photo alone was enough to make you weak in the knees.

You become lost in translation as you continue to stare at the framed piece when suddenly your phone rings loudly. “Shit!” you panicked as you raced across the room to shut off the ringing feature, completely forgetting that it was not on vibrate. It was your father calling. Afraid that the noise of your ringtone had awakened the baby, you answered and spoke quietly into the phone, cautiously looking at the door in hopes that the butler wouldn’t return upset over you waking his “master”.

“Hello? Daddy?” you answer and speak as quietly as you could, partially whispering as you cup around your mouth. Nothing but static on the other end. You peel your face away and look at the screen, only to find that there was no service. There was also no wifi. Great.

The visit to this luxury estate was a waste of time, and you tried to figure out the next step. Perhaps the butler has gas in one of the vehicles? Or maybe he can give you a ride to town?

You played around with your phone, waiting for the butler to return and seeking out a resolve to this predicament, when suddenly the corner of your eye catches on to something bright. It was warm and lightened the entire room. “What….what's that?” your tone expressed an enchanted curiosity as you leaned head in first, taking in the sight of a pedestal table with a large glass bell jar stationed at the center. It looked like a rose. The petals were made of fine crystal, appearing almost like large diamonds as they reflect a blush pink color, while the stem was made of pure gold and piqued its appeal. It dazzled, despite having no outside light to aid its glow.

Distracted by the lonesome ornament, you stood in awe. The bedazzling item had you in a hypnotic state that you remained unaware of the horned beast that lurked from the dark corner, admiring your gaze and posture. Another pretty treasure for him to keep inside a bell jar, or so it would appear. But this story will have to wait, for it is a tale as old as time…

Next Series Click Here

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 200 }

tender love and care.

sylus x (non mc)fem.reader

because you were labeled as sylus’s woman while here at the n109 zone, you were given several special privileges that made you just as powerful (if not, than more so) as sylus solely because you had such a man wrapped around your fingers.

you recall the date that marked your three month anniversary with him, where sylus gifted you a ruby, teardrop necklace with a matching ring as he told you the significance of his gift immediately,

“each time you walk out to explore the city and head out to work when i’m not around, these rubies will be a reminder to others that you are mine. that you’re under my constant protection, and should anyone dare to disturb your life, i’ll be there to teach them a lesson they shall never forget.”

even the memory of the passion in his voice, coupled along with the way he playfully bites down on your ring finger was enough to make you shiver in response.

the fact that you held his heart within the palm of your very hands filled you with a sense of unbidden joy, where you wanted to do nothing more than to litter his face with gentle butterfly kisses and shower him with the type of unconditional love he had been missing from his entire life.

and you had been with him ever since, never once regretting your decision to remain by his side.

currently, due to certain circumstances at work where several people had called out sick, you were forced to work a double shift. you did your best to cover for your missing coworkers as your supervisor gave you a grateful expression. once your shift ended later that evening, he allows you to take the rest of the week off as a thank you for all your hard work. despite the exhaustion you felt, you couldn’t ignore the undeniable happiness that courses through your veins.

as you step out of your workplace, you were immediately greeted by sylus. he was parked directly in front of your workplace building while leaning against his motorcycle. a grumpy expression was seen on his face, painting his handsome features in a scowl as the sight of it all made you giggle in response. all too eager to see him, you stop directly in front of him and allow his arms to automatically encircle around your form.

“i should kill that boss of yours for making you take over.” he growls into your ear, clearly upset. you tighten your arms around him in hopes of calming him down when you admit to him, “hey, there’s no need to be so grumpy. in fact, my boss was kind enough to give me the rest of the week off thanks to my hard work.”

upon hearing your words, sylus visibly relaxes, pressing a kiss against your lips before tossing you your helmet. it was specially designed in your favorite color, and you couldn’t help but smile at it for a moment as you held your helmet within your hands. sylus ends up donning his helmet first before getting on his bike, turning back to narrow his eyes at you, silently gesturing at you to get on.

with a playful roll of your eyes, you wear your helmet and get on behind sylus, wrapping your arms around his front. he places his hands over your folded arms, giving it a brief squeeze before revving up the bike and making its descent out into the city. knowing that he chose to take the scenic route back home, you take a moment to admire how brightly the city lights shone like gemstones beneath the moonlight. giggles were heard escaping from your parted lips, and oddly enough, sylus was able to hear the sounds of your laughter as he briefly gives your arm another squeeze with one hand before navigating expertly across the streets.

quite some time passes before you and sylus return to your shared penthouse apartment. he parks in his usual spot before taking off his and your respective helmets, holding them both in one hand while interlocking his fingertips with yours in the other. despite how you had been with him for close to two years now, your feelings never once went stale for him. you were just as in love and enamored with him as the first day, the day when you had just met him.

while riding the elevator with him to the top floor, you cuddled your body closer to his shoulder, earning a knowing smirk from him as he gives your hands a gentle squeeze in response. when you both finally reach the top floor, you watch sylus as he takes long strides toward the penthouse all while unlocking it with his key.

the moment you enter your shared home. you were immediately hit with the mouth watering scent of your favorite takeout, seeing it all spread out on the coffee table. you were so happy to enjoy all of your favorite foods with sylus that you couldn’t help but lean in to give him a chaste kiss.

“you’re spoiling me, my grumpy crow.” you tell him while framing at his face.

he scoffs before taking your hand, gently biting down against it with his crimson eyes twinkling with mischief and love for you, “anything for you, darling.”

sylus gestures at you to enjoy the meal first, moving to the side to place his keys on the counter along with storing your helmets. with your stomach growling, you take a box and dig in with your fork while settled on the couch, moaning at how delicious everything tasted. a few minutes later, sylus returns back to you with his arms crossed, clearly amused at the way you kept stuffing your face.

“how cute.” he hums before catching you off guard, choosing to pick you up from the couch as he settles you on his lap. your cheeks were felt heating up in response, yet still, you were comfortable enough to cuddle yourself even closer to his chest while continuing to eat.

you both enjoyed the rest of your late dinner, with you spoiling sylus by feeding him bites of your food and vice versa with him as well. by the time you finished your meal, you felt so full that you could barely move, choosing to land against him when sylus places the empty boxes and utensils on the table.

“what’s this? has my princess had her fill?” you cough at how suggestive he sounded, hiding your face within his shoulder as you playfully bit down against it. a low groan was heard coming from him, and you let out a soft, victorious laugh while telling him, “sy, i’m too tired and full to move… can you carry me?”

he feigns annoyance with a huff of your name, but doesn’t deny you of your wishes (he never could deny you). with a grunt, he stands back to his full height while carrying you in his arms, bridal style. you end up giggling profusely at the sensation, burying your head within his shoulder as he leads you to your shared bedroom and opens the door to the master bathroom.

setting you against the counter, sylus helps with taking off your clothes, leaving you bare for him as he does the same. you were given a moment to admire his delicious body, eyes tracing at the muscles that decorate the entirety of his godlike body. he sees your hungry stare and smirks before taking you in his arms once more. he begins to hum an unfamiliar turn, but you bask in this uncharacteristic softness exuding from the leader of onychinus (a side he only saves for you).

while keeping you in his embrace, he fills his luxurious, porcelain tub with warm water, adding your favorite scented bubbles within it before entering it with you. with his back settled against the tub, your own back was pressed against the front of his chest. you let out a soft moan upon feeling the hot waters surrounding you. the sensation of it coupled with the way sylus’s large hands began massaging at your shoulders was enough to make you practically melt against him.

you were dimly aware of his rich chuckles against your ear, dozing off against his gorgeous body. sylus works on washing your form while lathering your hair with shampoo, the sensation of it all earning a series of soft purrs from you.

“heh, is my kitten satisfied?”

you merely let out a hum in response, moving your head to the side as you allowed sylus to give the newly revealed skin of your neck a series of reverent kisses. once he was satisfied with cleaning you, rinsing your body free of any soap suds, he gets out of the bathtub while still holding you within his embrace.

never once does he leave your side. from drying your body with a plush towel, to helping you get into your sleeping clothes, sylus takes spoiling you with care to the next level. and by the time he reaches your shared bedroom while placing you in bed, you were already half asleep.

as you lay beneath the covers, body curled as you remained cuddled to him, sylus takes a moment to admire you. his long fingertips were felt brushing through your damp hair as he manages to capture a wet strand within his grasp, leaning forward to press a lingering kiss against it.

“i bet you have no idea what you do to me…” his gruff whisper was directed toward you, but it was clear that you were so deep in your slumber that you didn’t hear him. with a huff of your name, sylus reaches over his nightstand to pull out a tiny, velvet box. upon opening it, it would be revealed to contain your dream engagement ring.

as his gaze focuses on you, he takes a hold of your left hand with a hum, sliding the ring against your left ring finger before admiring it. a smirk paints his handsome expression when he leans closer to press a kiss against your ring.

“once you awaken… then you’ll know that my promises of forever has always been true and not simply a play on words. i hope you’re prepared to be mine, my darling love.”

and despite how you were in a deep sleep, sylus could have sworn he saw you smiling in response to his fervent promises of forever.

a.n. - don’t mind me, this is just a self indulgent mess that i need in my life. i love sylus so much;;; i need him so badly 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[heeliopheelia]

𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘-! 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍... 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘? 𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐀𝐍, 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘 (p. jay x reader)

tw: fem! reader, rough sex, no protection, well daddy kink ig, darcyphilia, pet names, hair pulling, doggy style, slight spanking, heavily implied oral at the end

word count: 0.6k

masterlist

The couch armrest is not the most comfortable object to be bent over while all the air gets knocked out of your lungs, but oh well…

“You’re mine. Only mine,” your boyfriend rasps from behind you, hand gripping your hip and pulling you into his cock with force.

Jay watches as his red tip gets swallowed by your pussy so eagerly, the position you’re in really granting him a magazine-cover worthy view. 

“S-slower,” you whimper out somehow with your cheek smushed against the cushion. “Go slower, daddy. Please.”

His borderline brutal pace doesn’t allow you to catch a break to fill your lungs back up properly as anytime you try to open your mouth, you’re being humbled by only being able to let out lewd noises. 

“Don’t worry.” You whine when his hand tangles itself in your hair and the next second you’re being pulled upwards from the couch. “I’ll fuck you real good, princess.”

And you have zero doubts about that. He snugs himself deeper into your tight pussy and you moan loudly at his warmth. Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip harshly as you try to hold onto any dignity that’s left in you, though you can feel it beginning to tremble just mere seconds later. 

“Just stay still and look pretty for me, yeah?” He taunts you, nose brushing against your arched neck. 

“Y-Yes, daddy,” you stutter out between his thrusts, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Then you add with a small voice strained with a whine, “Anything for you.”

The title never ceases to make Jay’s cock harden and now is not an exception. So with a breathy laugh, he lands a smack on your already reddened ass and rewards you with an even faster pace. 

“Now that’s a good fucking girl.”

He lets go of your hair and you fall back into the cushions with a weak mewl. You’re so exposed beneath him, so dependent on him and he loves you like this. 

Spreading your legs even more apart, your feet lose whatever ground they had and now you feel more like a ragdoll at his mercy than an actual sane woman. Your body jolts forward with the harsh smack of his hips as your legs dangle in the air helplessly. 

“Oh my god, daddy! I’m gonna cum, daddy,” you cry breathlessly, frantically, fingers digging into the cushion as a first teardrop runs down your cheek and blends with the bright fabric, staining it with mascara. 

Jay’s head lolls back as a loud grunt escapes through his gritted teeth and he pounds into you wildly, simultaneously blacking out any thought out of your mind. He feels so thick and heavy between your plush walls. You shudder and pant loudly when with the next slap to your ass, you come harder than you’ve ever had before.

And you're so tight just before you loosen up for him, warm juices coating his cock. He stays inside for a moment longer, giving you shallow thrusts as you slowly come down from your high. Your body is hot and trembling as he grabs you by your legs and flips you onto your back. 

Your ears are ringing as you try to get used to not having him inside you anymore, then blink slowly when Jay comes into the frame of your view for the first time this hour. And he’s beautiful. Toned body glistening with sweat, cheeks flushed and cock hard and leaking. 

He stands right above your exhausted self, and you look up at him with mascara under your eyes as his thumb swipes along your bottom lip, only to push it inside your mouth the next second, parting it with his finger.

“Open up, baby. Daddy needs to cum too.”

taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @dilucsleftshoelace @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @seongiewon @nichoswag @s00buwu @mon2sunjinsuver @goreconsumer @i4kt @heehoonsnemo @seongslutt @criminalyun @enhabooks @antoinettenotfound

[wingsofmud]

The Thrice-Born Twins

(Edited: adjusted their colors)

I'm starting my WoF rewrite project with the Darkstalker Legend. The book is honestly fine, but I want to see if I can turn it into more of a tragedy where Darkstalker is known to be an animus from the start, Fathom flees the Seawing Queendom after the massacre, Arctic isn't a complete abusive asshole, and Clearsight and Darkstalker were never meant to cross paths.

Here are my Darkstalker and Whiteout designs/redesigns

Design info + minor ancient nightwing fashion hcs + designs without accessories below:

Darkstalker:

I find it incredibly boring that Darkstalker looks exactly like a Nightwing and that Prince Arctic likes Whiteout more because she looks more like him.

The only Nightwing aspect of Darkstalker is his dark scales. Everything else from his body structure, to his wings, to his face says Icewing nobility. In fact, he bears a striking resemblance to his grandmother, Queen Diamond, even inheriting her signature twisted horns. He has a teardrop scale behind each eye and a round scale on his forehead that denote his mind reading and prophetic abilities.

As is expected of any noble Nightwing, Darkstalker is very intelligent and very charismatic. He was always going to be a key pawn in the Nightwing court by virtue of his birth, but when he was born on the brightest night, plans started to shift. Then, to Arctic's dismay, he presented as an animus when he was a dragonet.

Darkstalker is betrothed to Queen Vigilance's daughter and spends his time learning to become the perfect prince. He and all those around him see nothing but glory in his future, at least until he bumps into a strange Nightwing one night.

Darkstalker is always in fashion. Like many noble Nightwings, he wears a cool colored cloth around his body (the more translucent the better). He wears a matching set of bracelets and a tail band as well as silver bands on his horns and spines. The earring he has on is part of a pair gifted to him from his betrothed. He unfortunately doesn't have a nose horn or he would wear a ring on it, he wears one on his wing thumb instead.

.

Whiteout:

Though her egg turned silver, Whiteout hatched the morning after the brightest night, which is unheard of. Unlike her brother, if you painted her fully black she'd heavily resemble a Nightwing, sans some spikiness. She has Foeslayer's eyes and horns. She's shorter than her brother, but a lot more stocky. Whiteout is regarded as strange, quiet, and a pain in the tail to make wear anything.

Whiteout doesn't speak much and the words that she says are either very blunt or don't make much sense...at first. She's sensitive to a lot of stimuli and rarely changes her expression. She was very difficult to teach, regardless of how many private tutors she had, and continues to be unable to assimilate into Nightwing nobility. As a result, she's generally dismissed and escapes Queen Vigilance's eye. She very talented in painting.

Whiteout wears a triple piercing earring with a blue, star-shaped gem on the end as well as a onyx bracelet matched with a nose-horn ring studded with lapis lazuli. She does not wear any clothing outside of formal events. All of her usual accessories have been enchanted by Darkstalker to not bother her.

.

Designs w/o accessories:

[wheredidmybooksgo]

*gasp*

"GLEEP GLORPPP!"

*Teardrop is so happy, that he'll probably marry anyone who gets him one. His dragon instincts are telling him to get a bunch, and treat them like his babies. Now, if someone offers that to him, along with some shiny things, he'll be a very happy dragon god.*

[wyniepooh]

Protect

Logan protects you, in the only way he knows how.

bodyguard!logan x reader. just assume that reader is some high profile public figure lol. mentions of smoking. use of the nickname ‘kid’.

you could no longer feel the expression on your face.

It was only when you passed by a window— an awfully tall glass panel with an elaborate gilded frame— did you notice that the pleasant smile that had donned your face for the entire evening was finally beginning to falter.

a flash and click of a camera went off behind you, and through the reflection of the window, you could see a reporter walking eagerly towards you. you quickly swiveled in the opposite direction, hands grasped onto the front of your long gown as your feet guided your body towards a dark and isolated corridor.

but, you weren’t scared or alarmed in the slightest at the empty and unexplored room you were entering. because you knew that wherever you went, he was right behind.

after endless fidgeting with the hatch on a pair of doors, you could only sigh in relief when it finally opened. you stepped out into the balcony, sighing as you felt the abundance of fresh air fall over you.

your silent lonesome didn’t last. before long— just like you had suspected— a quiet, but familiar pair of footsteps trailed out from behind.

“I’m fine, logan. I just needed some air,” you turned your head slightly to the side. “you don’t need to follow me everywhere.”

he aligned himself beside you, arms clasped together behind his back. “Actually, I do. according to the contract I signed with your father, you require 24-hour supervision-“

“Please, enough,” you cut off, head fully turned to face him as you felt a warm teardrop drip down your cheek. you could see the rapid rise of your own chest, the consistent motion getting faster and more panicked by the second. you gripped the metal railing of the balcony and closed your eyes, hoping the cold sting would distract from the embarrassment.

when you opened your eyes again, logan seemed to be standing closer than before. his previous— and usual— stern expression was long gone, replaced by one of genuine empathy.

His softened brows twitched. you watched as his hand slowly reached up towards your face, arm pausing for just a second before a pointer finger extended gently to your cheek. You looked away as the wetness spread across your flushed face, and when you heard the parting of his lips, you turned your head and swatted his wrist away.

you spun towards the sky, looking at no star in particular, but focused on the scattered beads in the nightfall regardless. All was completely silent and still for a minute, which provided just enough time for you to slow your breathing and dab away at the mascara you were sure had traveled down your face.

You had just made a decision in your head to leave and return to the spectacle when you heard the muted click of a lighter. you smelled the tobacco before you saw it, and when you did, nothing but a scoff could escape you.

“I- I don’t think you’re allowed to do that here.”

he shrugged, and simply took an experienced drag of the cigar in response. He leaned a little closer to you, supporting his weight on the balcony railing as he raised the lit object up to your face. “who’s here to stop me? Or you, for that matter?”

You laughed dryly, crossing your arms as you asked, “are you seriously offering me a cigar? I thought you were supposed to protect me.”

He bounced his arm in suggestion of the cuban again and muttered, “kid, this is me protecting you.”

your smile faded away as you took in his words, and after a long second, your hand came up to reach for the cigar. but before your fingers could hook around the shaft, Logan opened his mouth and moved his arm away.

“ah— slow down. i still have a job to do. It’s my obligation to at least teach you how to smoke it first, so you don’t puke all over the prime minister or something. Plus,” he bent his head in, lips angled towards your ear, “if you’re not holding it and you get caught, you can talk your way out of it.”

he retracted his head, raising his eyebrows as he took one last puff and switched the direction of the cigar to face you. “Don’t be shy, kid. Just put your mouth around it.”

You followed his instruction with skepticism, delicately wrapping your lips around the brown paper of the cigar with your eyes down. With a mouthful of tobacco smoke, you looked up from your downward gaze, and as your eyes connected with his hazel glare, logan’s proud smirk seemed to falter for just a second; the corners of his mouth dropped, and his lips parted for a minute too long before he spoke.

“Just… don’t inhale into your lungs like you would a cheap cigarette,” he whispers, “you’re meant to enjoy it.”

You exhaled, clearing your throat as you watched the smoke dissipate into the dark background of the sky. “enjoy what?”

You notice the hesitancy in his response, his arm pausing half-way to his face as his eyes flicker to the imprint of your lipstick on the stick. finally, he puts his mouth on top of the red stain, takes a puff, and breathes, “the taste.”

The moonlight reflected off of his slicked back hair, and it looked like a star or two were dancing around in his eye. It was only now did you see the prominence of his wrinkles and the grey in his beard that you had never noticed before.

you don’t know why you stayed silent. It wasn’t as if there wasn’t anything to talk about— your very recent breakdown provided obvious proof that you needed to talk. And if there was anyone you could and wanted to talk to, it had to be logan.

You broke the silence first. “So, why’d you take this job anyways?”

he chuckled. “Honestly, I’d like to say some sappy bullshit like ‘i love helping others’ but,” he purses his lips, “I’m afraid you’d find the real reason quite selfish,” he responds.

You laugh. “So, for the money?”

“Something like that.”

You sigh. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know anyone else who’d know exactly what to do when I’m freaking out, even if it’s by giving me a cigar at an event where reporters are swarming everywhere.”

He smiles, a lopsided one that only further emphasizes his wrinkles hidden within his beard. “I’m glad you consider me as a friend.”

You remained quiet. After a windy moment, you stepped closer to where he was leaning against the metal railing. You grabbed his wrist which contained the still-lit cigar, and turned your back towards his chest to take a hit. You look back to him, blowing the smoke into his face.

“a friend, right.”

now it was his turn to be silent, eyes frantically scanning over your face before lowering down to the hand around his wrist. His gaze jumps back to your eyes, a fog of something indistinguishable knitted between his brows.

“you know, I don’t really taste anything special. Just smokey.” you turned, pressing your chest against his as a casual hand toyed with the edge of his shirt collar. There was no space between the two of you, and yet there was no resistance, from either side, to step back and separate. “What’s it supposed to taste like?”

He tilted his head. “a little earthy. nutty,” his unoccupied hand fell upon the small of your back. “sweet.”

you couldn’t tell if he had more to say, but if he did, his words were all swallowed up by your lips on his. The hand on your waist tightly squeezed, pulling you flush onto him until the two of you were on the edge of practically falling over the balcony. both of your hands curled tightly around his gelled hair, tugging harshly as you silently gasped against his mouth.

the desperate roughness of his teeth scraped against your lip, and your respective chests rose up and down in synch with one another before he pulled back, his free hand coming up to caress the side of your hair.

“I’m supposed to protect you, kid,” he panted.

your fingers lingered over his chin, nails scratching at his overgrown stubble. You pleaded, “Logan, please, i’ve never felt so safe.”

you felt a sudden rush of coldness as Logan turns his head away. “I lied, you know. I didn’t exactly take this job just for the money. Your dad pays well, of course, but, that’s not why I stayed.”

He turns back, the star-splattered sparkle still twinkling in his eye as he mumbles, “you’re the selfish reason, sweetheart. you always have been.”

you pulled his forehead to yours, arms crossed around his neck to bring his warmth even closer. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed with uncertainty.

“Logan,” was all you muttered, and it was all it took before a low growl escaped through his chest and he drew your face in firmly by your chin.

You heard the faint drop of the half-gone cigar on the ground, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. You tasted the sweetness on his tongue, just fine.

-

a/n: logan was canonically a bodyguard and I feel like we writers need to take more advantage of that fact

[wheredidmybooksgo]

*The Teifling knocks on the door, Violin case on his back*

*Drew mutters to himself*

Nice place...

"hm? Oh hello!"

[he smiles]

[joonjuul]

million dollar man. jjk

pairing: rich!jk x poor!reader

wc: 1.5k

warnings: richman!jk, softdom!jk, poor!reader, subby!reader, pwp, oral (m receiving), thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), pet names, praise

a/n: just a lil something to keep you guys occupied while i finish up school :3 tysm for all the love im sorry for inactivityyy… don’t worry ill make it up to you guys <3

╋━

his cold calloused hands ran over your cheek, nearly kissing away the single teardrop that slid down your flushed skin. his other hand wrapped gently around your hair, pulling it perfectly out of your face as he guided your soft lips over his cock.

“that’s it, baby.” he coos from above you. your knees were peppered in carpet burn, painted velvet over your pale skin as you felt every vein and crease of his length along your hollowed cheeks. to you, he was admirable, a man of power, a man of riches. he didn’t even take his suit off when you fucked. but to him, you were an angel sent from heaven, his saving grace, his escape from reality.

you felt yourself gag around him as he slowly pushes himself deeper inside, his hips bucking up slightly as his eyes turn white, relishing in everything you have to offer him. god he really was a sight for sore eyes.

you hollow your cheeks further around his cock, nearly enough to make him cum on the spot as he gently pulls himself out of your mouth, his eyes flicking to yours as he leans forward, wiping your perfect plump lips and smeared mascara as best as he can.

“sweet little girl, come here.” he rasps, patting his thigh as he helps you stand up from between his legs, watching as you perfectly position yourself on either side of his thigh.

“jungkook.” you whine softly. you wanted nothing more than to see him cum. watch his eyes roll back as he thrusts deep into your mouth. even if it hurt, every strain of muscles in your throat was worth hearing him moan and whimper beneath you.

he smirks at you sweetly, his dimples poking out as he brings his hands to your waist, sliding his fingers over your bare stomach as he begins to guide you slowly. your clothed cunt rubbing against his thigh almost perfectly as your bare legs tighten around him.

his smirk deepens as he watches how quickly you respond, bringing one of his hands up to your face to push a strand of hair away from your eyes.

“such a pretty little thing. i couldn’t resist baby, you look too good like this. and i know how much you love my thigh.” his voice is dripping with sex, rumbling through your chest as your hips begin to move on their own, barely being guided by his cold hands. he was right, riding his thigh always made your mind cloudy, and always left you desperate for more.

“w-wanted to see you c-cum.” you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out almost subconsciously as your body begins to fall under his spell, under his trance.

he smirks even more, licking his lips subtly, although you could barely notice him now with how lost you were on him.

“i know sweetheart. but i want to see you cum first.” jungkook was walking sex in your eyes. his every touch, his every line, every breath was so gentle, it left your body aching for more almost constantly, even without your knowledge. so much so that in situations like this, you tended to forget who you were.

right now you were just a poor girl on his lap, and he was a rich boy watching you ride him breathlessly. and that was enough for you.

your hands subconsciously move up to his shoulders, gripping them softly as your hips begin to move with more fluidity. your already damp underwear now seeping onto his perfectly ironed dress pants, the wrinkles they left behind only adding a deeper intensity to your throbbing cunt.

your whines and gentle moans were like gas to a flame, drawing jungkook in closer as his hands grip your waist tighter, his lips leaning down to catch your neck sweetly. every kiss he left behind was like heaven, easily finding every spot he knew you adored, like he memorized every inch of your skin, and it only spurred you on more.

his kisses became rapid, his tongue darting out to lick a seamless stripe of desire down your collarbone, and easily earning a moan from between your lips. he had you right where he wanted you.

“let me hear you baby, let me hear your pretty little moans.” he coos between kisses, a subtle pink blotch appearing on your shoulder as he coaxes you closer to the edge, your noises only intensifying at his every move.

“m-more.” you mutter breathlessly, your hips increasing in pace as you ride him with every last bone in your body. your entire soul belonged to him, every drop of blood in your veins was his to claim, money aside, he was the only man who could ever make you feel so high without a single toxin in your body.

he hums softly, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulls you closer, your cunt dragging off his thigh as he lifts your body up, his eyes scanning down to the wet patch on your panties, and the growing stain on his own pants.

“you’re making a mess, sweetheart. what am i gonna do with you?” you whine at his words, your hips bucking up subconsciously, craving any sort of relief your swollen cunt can find.

“p-please.” your eyes were big and red, staring at him desperately as you pleaded for him to show you some sort of mercy, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you as you felt him slowly lower you back down, stopping to hover you above his leg as you feel his hand slither between your thighs.

“i’ll give you what you want, baby. you trust me, don’t you?”

you nod your head quickly at his question, your body nearly shaking, pleading for forgiveness as you feel his slim fingers pulling your underwear aside. your perfectly soaked cunt on full display for him, and you nearly collapse as you feel his fingers begin to trace your folds.

“tell me darling, is this what you wanted?” his voice, his words alone could be considered cruel and unusual punishment. the way he delicately spread you apart for him, teased you relentlessly, was borderline violent.

“y-yes. p-please.” you mutter, your breath hitching in your throat as you feel his fingers enter you with ease, spreading your walls deliciously as he quickly lands on your most sensitive spot.

“then take it.” he begins to pump in and out of you harshly, every thrust of his fingers hitting a different spot inside you that you didn’t know existed. your head was spinning, your chest pounding, everything about him was driving you closer and closer to the edge.

you could barely hold yourself up, you could barely think straight, all you could think about was the way his fingers perfectly fit inside of you, knew every line and crevice of your untamed body, swallowing you whole like you were the last woman on earth, like he was a man starved of touch.

“shhh that’s it baby, there you go.” his praises ring in your ears on a loop, your grip tightening on his suit as his tie begins to loosen, his once slicked back hair now curly and disheveled.

and then you feel it.

“c-close.” you moan out, your breath nearly stolen from your chest as his fingers begin to move faster, his pace matching the way your hips ride his fingers. your slick dripping down to his knuckles as he curls himself deep inside of you, your heart almost jumping out of your chest with every motion.

his muffled praises go in one ear and out the other, but they’re appreciated nonetheless. your head was reeling, your legs trembling as you feel the knot in your stomach get tighter, and tighter. his grip on your waist bringing you back to reality for a split second.

“cum, angel.”

you feel your entire body tense at his words, the knot within you releasing just as quickly as it arrived. breathless whimpers and ecstasy filled promises dripping from your lips as you feel him slowly bring you back to his lap. everything was fuzzy, the room was spinning, all you could feel were the gentle pats on your hair, and the way his soft touch coaxed you out of euphoria.

“there you are, baby.” he coos as he sees your eyes finally flutter open. your cheeks flushed and forehead sticky as you leaned against him, your breathing still unsteady with desire.

you look up at him, your eyes full of lust and need. he was perfection, pure and utter perfection laid out before you. he was yours for the taking, and you were his.

“wanna make me cum?” he rasps, looking down at you, his dimples evident in his smile as he watches your eyes light up at the opportunity. you were never too tired for him, never too tired to satisfy the man of your dreams.

“anything for you.”

[wheredidmybooksgo]

Trans, he/they :))

My blog is safe for all genders, sexualities, and different creatures!

Reblog if your blog is a safe space for these identities: agender, demiboy, demigirl, genderfluid, non-binary, and transgender!

[merakiui]

Mmm mer darling getting hunted through a kelp forest by jade 🤤

👁️ 👁️ in the middle of breeding season, too.

Hoping to hide away amongst the tall kelp strands and just endure the miserable urges all alone in the shadows. Feeling so itchy and hot, tummy round and bulging with eggs. If you can just lay them all, you’ll be free to return home, lighter and more level-headed than ever. This year’s season is particularly rough. You’ve never had this many eggs before. >_< you feel so bloated. You want them all out; it’s so painful. The arousal and the want and the craving for a mate. orz

Unfortunately, you’re unaware a certain eel-mer has picked up on your delicious scent. >;) stalking you through the kelp, keeping to the shadows, watching you curl up on the sea floor in agony. Your slit is so puffy and aching. He can smell and taste you on the water—the irresistible sweetness of an unmated mer. You’re lying on your back now, struggling to reach over the great dome of your belly. The tips of your fingers just barely brush your slit. Maybe if you weren’t so stuffed with your unfertilized clutch you’d be able to dip your fingers inside and dig the eggs out yourself.

It’d be easier if you had a mate, that’s what everyone always tells you. But you don’t have one and so it’s just you in this dark kelp forest.

You’re so cute, whining pathetically and struggling to find some sort of relief. Can you blame Jade for wanting to play with you just a little? You’re already so hyper-sensitive, so the rustling in the kelp startles you. You’re acutely aware that you can’t let your guard down even in this disheveled state. Predators are always lurking. You think you catch the ominous glow of a golden eye somewhere between the swaying kelp, but then it’s gone in a blink. Now you’re horny and paranoid, and it’s a terrible combination that makes you feel sick.

You’ll feel so caged in. There seems to be a rustle at every angle. Are you being hunted by a group? Immediately you realize you need to get out of here. Something doesn’t feel right. But you realize that a little too late when you whirl around and find a big mer smiling pleasantly at you, looking strong and ferocious. There’s a feral glint in his eyes that’s just barely concealed beneath his cordial demeanor. You’re still on edge. Are there more mers in hiding? Is he going to eat you? What does he want from you?

You’ll find out soon enough when he has you plastered to the sea floor, thick cock thrust up inside your gummy walls. You thrash and snap at him, your dull claws ineffective. He merely holds your hips down, his tail curled around yours. You beg him to stop; you don’t want to be mated. You don’t want him to fertilize these eggs! You just want to lay them in peace. It’s a fight you can’t win. And eventually you’ll give into your instincts, sobbing in relief and horror when he fills you up. He seemed so polite hours ago, albeit with a strangely unhinged edge, but now you see he’s so domineering when he fucks you like a wild animal.

You’ll be too exhausted to move or even escape afterwards, lying defeated on your side. A few eggs have been fucked out of you and they dribble out of your abused slit in pebbled teardrops. :< the eel-mer returns with plenty of fish for you, but even though you just endured hours of mating you can’t seem to find your appetite. </3

[meowrimo]

Zoro had been harboring a secret.

Tucked away in the crows nest to find a serene sense of sanctuary as you both nestle under the wooly blanket you had long since adopted as your own, brings him a world of comfort — the perfect place to present the gift he had been discreetly working on for the last few weeks.

The empty canvas that made up your neck demanded something equally as mesmerizing as you to show off and enchance your features. The thought of milky dewdrops that resemble the lofty moon you two would embrace under every evening felt befitting — a pearl necklace that he could tenderly string together in a dire hope that you’d adore it the way he cherishes you.

Begrudgingly, Zoro had to make a deal with the devil for it — the devil being the shitty love cook that never fails to cast his heart eyes in your direction and drive the swordsman mad.

But truthfully, he was the only one that could efficiently help him out. So he swallowed his pride for your sake.

The days at quaint little fishing village the crew found themselves docked at awhile ago were spent shucking oysters with Sanji to find the treasure that sometimes lay beneath the squishy meat, somehow forced to work together as the rest of the crew questioned why they were being served at almost every meal.

Words escape your swordsman as his large hand holds out the haphazardly wrapped gift, throat thickening with an unexpected emotion that’s all consuming and lays on his tongue like syrupy honey. But nothing needs to be said, the action saying everything his heart holds.

Tufts of stardust collect under your misty eyes, brimming with happiness that’s ready to tumble and trickle down your smiling face. Zoro doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything so beautiful, so full of life that could only be akin to discovering a twinkling star that shoots across the nighttime sky. A sight unfolding before him that he almost doesn’t want the rest of the world to see, something he can selfishly keep to himself in his ever drumming heart that beats to your name.

Calloused palms cusp your expressive cheeks and with the swipe of his thumb, he brushes the sparkling teardrops away as it absorbs into his very flesh and seeps into his bones — sharing every aspect of the sweet moment with you as his forehead kisses your own.

“Merry Christmas.” With the seal of your lips pressing together, he receives his own very gift from you, the one that keeps on giving. The unyielding love that emits from your very being coats him in a divine protection that was stronger than any suit of armor could ever provide, reinforcing his will to keep going.

“Merry Christmas, Zo.” The soft, breathy use of his nickname causes his heart swell up, chest threatening to burst from the intensive heat but your cooling touch melts him in a different way, one that has him secretly wishing you’ll never let go.

And his soul knows you never will.