mynameis-noe-body - Tumblr blog

[mynameis-noe-body]

Guys, requests have been closed for a few days now. Sorry I didn't make a post about it before, but through study and work I ain't left with much time. I already have 4 request to write and a fanfiction that needs to come to an end, so I am not accepting new requests right now. Sorry 🖤 I'll open them again soon

Masterlist

For those wondering: I closed the previous mynameis-noe-body blog and opened a new one, to make it a main blog and have free access to dm.

First of all, rules. This is a list of my works, and I will rate them accordingly to Ao3 guidelines. This means they may be explicit and so, strictly +18.

I will write for the following fandoms and more (find more in others).

I will not write underage. I am comfortable with a certain amount of angst and/or violence but it's still up to me to decide what I am okay with.

I will not write for The Marauders fandom, since I do not appreciate those characters.

Requests are closed for the moment. And thank you for reading.

▪️Wizarding World

Shot through the heart

Professor Severus Snape × Original Female Character

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: Licorice Hatch has traveled the world, fulfilling her dream of becoming one of the most famous writers and reporters in the Wizarding World. Now, she is coming back. Merlin only knows the turmoil she has caused in the heart of her dark, splendid professor. And at the very thought — eager to hold her in his arms again — Severus can't help but relive their whole story, from the very beginning, when it all started with a Wilbur Smith's book and... a two-month detention!

The Old Mill at the Hogsmeade's Eastern Forest

Post-Second Wizarding War Severus Snape × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: in progress (multiple chapters)

Summary: A year and a half after the end of the war, Severus still hasn't managed to leave Britain. No one knows of his survival, and for months he enjoys a life of silence, solitude and well-deserved peace. Everything would be absolutely perfect, were it not for you, sitting on his empty tombstone everyday to bring condolences and read some poetry. When it's said that curiosity killed the cat...

▪️Adam Driver Fandom

How to (not) kill a stranger

Kylo Ren × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (multiple chapters)

Summary: He glances at you. "A young lady like you shouldn't travel alone, on a night like this." You want to roll your eyes and send him to hell, but he was kind to help you and you don't want any more trouble. "I couldn't really stay in Aberdeen. I knew my old Corolla wouldn't hold up for long, not in this weather, but I wanted to at least get to the Motel for the night." He nods, raises the temperature of the car and you thank him again. He doesn't acknowledge your words. But he smirks. "Aren't you afraid you just crossed your path with a murderer?" You grin. "What are the odds that we are both murderers?"

▪️Stranger Things

Catch me if you can, Chief!

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: It's the 4th of July in Hawkins, and while everybody's having fun at the amusement park, the only one who's catching your attention is Jim Hopper, Chief of Police — and he's looking at you, equally interested.

This Friday night

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: All alone on a Friday night, after a long week of college classes, you just want to eat some ice cream and watch a movie. You didn't expect Jim to pay you visit — but god, if it isn't a nice surprise. OR — you and Jim (your father's best friend) get intimate on your parents' couch.

“Nothing to say, hm?”

Chief Jim Hopper × you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You let Billy flirt with you a little... that might not be a good idea. Jim will find a very passionate way of showing his jealousy.

Sunday morning: pancakes and...

Chief Jim Hopper x you (F)

Rating: Mature

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You make Jim breakfast and decide to wake him up with your hands and mouth.

▪️John Wick Fandom

🖤 Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont 🖤

I am your slave

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You and Vincent play the jealousy game at a public evening gala of the High Table. You end up revelieng almost all of your feelings to each other.

Safe in his arms

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F/GN)

Rating: Teen & Up Audience

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Vincent, who has fallen in love with you and made you his beautiful wife, has never really told you about his true life of crime and murder. What will you do the first time you catch him red handed?

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: You're the Marquis' favorite tailor — and you always act so innocent and pure it would just too much fun to ruin you (corruption kink).

🖤 John Wick 🖤

Origami

John Wick × reader (F/GN)

Rating: All

Status: Complete (one shot - drabble)

Summary: A casual encounter lead you and John to looking for each other, wishing to meet again.

▪️Others (open to write for: Alice in Wonderland, Joker(s), Johnny Depp fandom)

Wonderland Chronicles

Tarrant Higtop (Mad Hatter) × Alice Kingsley

Fandom: Alice in Wonderland

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

Summary: Alice and Tarrant get inspired by fruit juices and enjoy smutty time, all alone during a tea party.

🔹A list of k*nks without explanation

Severus Snape

Lucius Malfoy

Eddie Munson

Billy Hargrove

Chief Jim Hopper

[mynameis-noe-body]

It's ironic that in 2016 I went there. And I kissed it.

Also, I had been wearing a hair band around my arm for two years. We had this kind of tradition at the seaside, with my friends, since that year we all wore our hair long. My boy best-friend had long hair too, and he gifted me his hair band. It was thick, and black, perfect for my messy, thick hair. I wore it so much it got loose, and I just kept taking it with me through everything. Every single day. Day, night, everywhere and every time. Until I went to Paris.

We were rockers, both of us. He was a metalhead. Listening to rock music all summer, and texting each other new songs during the rest of the years. Two years. And I was in Paris. Crying my eyes out in front of Jim Morrison's grave because of the emotion. I had nothing to gift him with. Nothing, but my hair band. And after two years, I knew our journey had come to an end.

It was 2016. And it would have been beautiful to wake him up, just for five minutes, to tell him that had been around 40 years, and still there were children traveling from other countries, leaving what happened to be one of their most precious thing in the world right there, on his grave, just for him.

A heavily lip-sticked grave

The final resting place of author Oscar Wilde, ridden with kisses, is not the only famous grave in the Parisian Père Lachaise Cemetery. Singers Jim Morrison and Serge Gainsbourg also attract a wealth of fans and mourners who leave blessings at their gravesides, normally in the form of lighters and/or cigarettes.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Where do I have to sign to get this? Hello? Someone call the devil please, I am ready to sell my soul!

Thinking about…basking in a post-orgasm high with Jim Hopper…

Jim Hopper x fem!reader smut

✿ explicit content below the cut ✿

* . ☾ * . * . ⭐︎ * . ☁︎ ｡⋆ ｡ ⋆ ｡ﾟ ☁︎ ｡

〰⋆｡˚ Your arms slide from around Hopper’s waist, dropping languidly to the mattress beneath you…

〰⋆｡˚ His broad shoulders hover over your much smaller frame, his deep blue eyes the color of the sky during a Summer storm…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper’s skin is damp with sweat, his eyelids heavy in the relaxing aftermath of orgasm...

〰⋆｡˚ He’d emptied more than his cum inside you, more than the tension he’d felt in the build-up to his release…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper had deposited all the sorrows and stress of his day, his week, his life, in you, against the moist velvet of your cunt…

〰⋆｡˚ A tear drips down your cheek; your body is teeming, trembling with the effects of climaxing harder, longer, than you ever have before…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper’s cock is still stretching you, still impossibly thick even as he gently softens inside you…

〰⋆｡˚ Your chests move together almost in sync, the ragged pattern of both your breathing gradually slowing to normal…

〰⋆｡˚ Your voice breaks delicately when you speak. “I love you, Jim...”

〰⋆｡˚ He exhales, lips pressing to yours tenderly, and the same vulnerability can be heard in Hopper’s voice as he whispers, “I love you too, sweetheart…”

〰⋆｡˚ His facial hair tickles against your lips, along your chin, where his kiss travels lower and lower, till Hopper’s lips are moving over your breasts…

〰⋆｡˚ He pulls his tongue slowly along the underside of each breast, wrapping his lips around one of your pert nipples while teasing the other between his fingers...

〰⋆｡˚ Your body responds to the continued stimulation Hopper is giving you, the heady rush of your last orgasm still leaving you dreamy, blissfully adrift…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper suckles at your breast subserviently, selflessly, tugging gentle and rhythmic motions between soft, wet lips…

〰⋆｡˚ You feel the flutter between your thighs return, at first little more than a quiver, which rapidly builds to a throb…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper groans over your breast, the deep hum vibrating from his chest through yours…

〰⋆｡˚ Your legs tremble at Hopper’s sides, knees lifting and squeezing around his waist…

〰⋆｡˚ The throbbing between your thighs builds to a breaking point, another orgasm rumbling through you…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper continues to nurse at one of your breasts, his large, warm hand groping and massaging the other…

〰⋆｡˚ Your nipple, plumped and sensitive, rubs against his palm as Hopper kneads your tit delicately…

〰⋆｡˚ The muscles inside you spasm around Hopper’s softened cock, threatening to push him out…

〰⋆｡˚ Hopper forces his weight down on top of you, pinning you under him as you come, forcing you still…

〰⋆｡˚ A silent scream chokes at the back of your throat, devolving into moans of pleasure as Hopper releases your breast with an audible ‘pop!’…

〰⋆｡˚ He gazes down at you lovingly, a cocky, satisfied grin painting his rugged features…and then, Hopper moves his mouth to your other breast, to start all over again…

[mynameis-noe-body]

Can you do a young John wick one shot? The reader is a civilian that keeps on running into John while he’s on the job (I.e. they’re a civilian that’s at a museum where he needs to kill someone). From there, they start to bond and he makes a habit of buying the reader gifts but leaves it anonymously. Then the reader, who figures out what’s going on manages to track John and they confess their feelings?

Thank you for the request 🖤 here a drabble for you.

Origami

John Wick × reader

One shot

The Shelley Memorial, Oxford. It was your place. A corner of peace in the chaos of the world. You loved the way the light surrounded it, hugged it, cradling it in a welcoming, warm silence. It inspired in you a love you had never known. And with your books still under your arm, a bag full of notes and your fingers stained with ink, you always found time to visit it, even on the busiest days.

So, that day, you were there. And you didn't expect to find company.

The man didn't look like a student... not even like a professor, to be honest. Sitting in front of the monument, immersed in the vision of it, you observed him. He had a serious, regal face. His presence was imposing, despite his silence. His cold eyes were black, deep, his long, silky hair fell thickly on his shoulders, on his dark jacket. Beautiful, and lethal. Or at least, that's what he conveyed to you. And perhaps it was better to leave... but you didn't have time to turn around before he stopped you.

"You don't have to go" he said.

You stopped and nodded shyly. "I just wanted to read something."

He gestured for you to sit next to him with a wave of his hand. The rough cover of your book, thus exposed, revealed its title. The man, stealing a glance, allowed himself a light laugh. "Poems by Percy Shelley?"

You smiled, blush on your cheeks. “It always seems appropriate.”

A strange energy vibrated in the air when your eyes met. You didn't even know his name, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze in your veins, inside your chest, in the beating of your heart. When you opened the book a handful of notes fell to the floor, and you blushed in embarrassment, starting to get up and collect the mess you made, but he stopped you with a wave of his hand.

"Please," he said, "read."

And you read the poem, softly but loud enough for him to hear you, one word after another.

He was silent. You didn't notice anything... at least until you looked up from the book and realized, to your great regret, that he was no longer there. But he had left a present for you: an origami, folded with one of your sheets. And you smiled.

Over the next few days, you seemed to see that man everywhere. In the coffee shop, sipping your pumpkin latte, in the library, among your stacks of study books, at the restaurant where you stopped to dine from time to time—he was everywhere. Him, and his origami.

It was something that made you smile. He hadn't given you the idea of being a shy man, but by now you were convinced he wouldn't reveal himself. It had been a fortuitous meeting, almost casual, and perhaps to be able to track him down you had to find a way to attract his attention a second time...

So, one evening, you waited for him in the Art Gallery — it was the sunset of an autumn evening, and the museum rooms were almost deserted. His presence invaded the entire room and broke the silence, while you waited still, sitting on the red velvet bench.

You turned and smiled. "You found my origami" you said.

He nodded, sitting down next to you. "I didn't expect you to answer my..."

"Gifts?"

He nodded, with a shake of his head. A man of few words.

With the last origami that he had left you, you had decided to leave him a message. You had written inside it and folded the paper so he could find it. It had worked, evidently.

"I don't know your name."

He smiled. "I'm John."

John. An ordinary name for a man absolutely out of the ordinary.

"Would you like to have dinner with me, John?”

Your cheeks were red, and your heart was pounding in your chest, and he was looking at you as if he could feel all of this by sensing the same emotion. His eyes seemed to shine, for a moment. He offered you his hand. "I would love to" he answered.

You took his hand and followed him, having the feeling that yours was going to be an incredible adventure.

[mynameis-noe-body]

[mynameis-noe-body]

daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy daddy

[mynameis-noe-body]

Read more for a practical example of my personal view on the matter:

Severus and Lily cursing when someone insults them

Severus: *muttering to himself* You little, f*cking, slobbering sh*thead, you eat and spit sh*t like any other goddamn earthworm every time you open your mouth.

Lily: *screaming at the top of her lungs* SAY THAT AGAIN AND I WILL KICK YOUR BALLS UNTIL THEY DANGLE FROM YOUR CHIN SO YOU'LL LOOK LIKE THE TURKEY YOU ACTUALLY ARE

Severus Snape knew a lot of Curses

"Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year..." - Remus Lupin

Profanity. He means profanity, not spells, because Snape grew up in a magic-hostile home. Severus Snape learned to cuss like a sailor from his alcoholic father. At eleven he could assert dominance by swearing a blue streak so powerful people assumed he could back it up, but it was a bluff and various people figured that out before he acquired the bite to match his bark.

Adult Professor Severus Snape didn't swear much in '91 - '98 because he was a school teacher for about a decade by then and once lost an entire pay cheque to the swear jar in the staff room.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Me whenever I remember that Snape canonically outlived all of the Marauders:

[mynameis-noe-body]

Gives me Twilight vibes — that's the season, indeed. Should I write for the Twilight fandom, too?

[mynameis-noe-body]

He grew up and got more elegant about it, but his sarcasm can tell everything. He can destroy your confidence with just few, almost-polite words, can you imagine if he cursed?

Severus Snape knew a lot of Curses

"Snape knew more curses when he arrived at school than half the kids in seventh year..." - Remus Lupin

Profanity. He means profanity, not spells, because Snape grew up in a magic-hostile home. Severus Snape learned to cuss like a sailor from his alcoholic father. At eleven he could assert dominance by swearing a blue streak so powerful people assumed he could back it up, but it was a bluff and various people figured that out before he acquired the bite to match his bark.

Adult Professor Severus Snape didn't swear much in '91 - '98 because he was a school teacher for about a decade by then and once lost an entire pay cheque to the swear jar in the staff room.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Do you have any advice for young women?

In general? Sure. Read whatever you can get your hands on, but especially work written by women. Put your hands in sticky things at least once a week (clay, paint, dough, soil), don’t date anyone for a few years, travel when you can where you can, learn the skill of listening to your body— rest when you are tired, eat when you are hungry, drink when you are thirsty, and move when you are anxious. Swim as often as you can. Try to live alone at least once. If you can’t live alone, make time to be alone often. Carry pepperspray and do not learn to hold your tongue. Learn to sew, or weave, or knit. Unlearn the impulse to apologize for things that are not your fault. Pleasure yourself. Every once in a while, remind yourself of how loudly you can yell, how quickly you can run, and wildly you can dance. Allow yourself to cry for your mother. Spend as much time as you can in female-only spaces. Spend even more time with older women. Listen to their stories. Memorize their gray hair and lined faces, their swollen joints and sagging breasts. Cherish the gradual appearance of these things in yourself as an inheritance. Hold hands with other women. Spend some time naked in your home. Adopt a cat, or a fish, or grow some caterpillars into butterflies on your window. Eat heartily and drink to enjoy it. Go hiking and scream from a peak somewhere. Sometimes, allow yourself to act like a child again— climb a tree, scrape up your knees, and lick cake batter from the spoon. When you clean your home, open all the windows and beat the dust from all the curtains. Laugh loudly. Do not become self-deprecating to encourage others to laugh with you.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Waking Up With A Rockstar - Eddie Munson Blurb

Minor DNI

1.3K

Warning: Language, Smut (+18)

Corroded Coffin frontman picks you out of the crowd. After a long night of sex, drugs, and rock n roll you wake up craving more.

You breathe deeply; your eyes draw open slowly as you take in your surroundings. A beautiful cityscape with large windows, wrapping all around Eddie's room. Morning fog rolls past, setting the perfect, cozy scene.

Holy shit... I'm here...

With him...

Looking down you see his hand, wrapped around your waist; bare, free of his rings. You eye the alarm clock; 7:58, flicking to 7:59. Two hours until work... It is only a few blocks away. Maybe I can stay for a while. Just until he wakes up.

Damn... This feels right. This feels so fucking right.

You shift a little; Eddie draws you nearer, pulling you into his chest.

Eddie Munson...

A smirk slips your lips as you feel his length, hard against your back. I have a couple of hours after all... Mmm... I should probably leave him with something to remember… Slipping under the linen sheets you leave his embrace; working lower on the large bed.

Damn... Morning wood... Let me take care of this for you, handsome.

Flattening your tongue you meet his skin, licking the length of his shaft; to his swollen tip. Eddie lets out a soft groan, rolling from his side to his back; tenting out the sheet in the process.

Oh my god...

You move between his legs, wrapping your fingers around his cock; slipping his tip in your mouth.

Sucking lightly, causes Eddie to moan; he inhales sharply, his muscles flexing. Sinking a little lower you take as much of him as you can get. Eddie's hands meet your hair, gathering it in his hand.

"Fuck... Am I dreaming?" His voice is gravelly and low; the depth alone lights you on fire. Eddie lifts the sheet, meeting your gaze. He smiles blissfully, drawing his head off the pillow.

You bob up and down on his cock, looking at Eddie through your lashes. Popping off, you blow lightly. Goosebumps fall over his skin. "You're so fucking beautiful, Y/n. Shit," he sighs.

"Mmm... So are you."

You can't help but swoon, staring back at him; his espresso locks pulled back off his face. Inky black tattoos etched against his fair skin; a nose ring; the nipple piercings... The perfect fucking bad boy. Rough and soft all at once. Eddie Munson... incredibly and undeniably sexy.

You lower your mouth to him again. Eddie's lips part in anticipation. Swirling and flicking your tongue you tease his head. "I'm fucking dreaming," he pants; throwing himself back; covering his face with his palms.

You take Eddie back into your mouth, continuing to suck with a little more force as you hollow out your cheeks. "Oh my god," he soughs; his hand following your head as you move. He tosses the sheet off the two of you.

Eddie applies pressure to the back of your head, using your mouth to stroke his dick; working you up and down. You gag on his shaft; lewd noises pour out of the both of you.

"Ugh... You're a fucking queen, y/n. Goddamn."

Eddie loosens his grasp, giving you back control. You stroke his dick with your hand quickly, your lips wrapped around his tip. "Ugh... Ju-Just like that Y/n... Fucking Christ," he grunts.

Cupping his balls with your other hand you roll them delicately. His breathing starts to increase; Eddie's moaning and praise, are a little louder than before. He runs his tongue along his bottom lip; his eyelids, hooded. "Mmm... Can I fuck you, sweetheart? I wanna finish inside you."

Holy shit... Please...

You moan on his cock, taking in his words; quickly coming off his length. Slipping off your g-string you work it down your thighs hastily. He presses toward the headboard, sitting up.

"How do you want me, Eddie?"

He shuts his eyes softly, delighting in your words. "Mmm... Y/n...That was fucking beautiful. Say it again. Just like that..." he hums.

"How do you want me, Eddie?" You whisper, crawling toward him slowly; meeting his plush lips.

Eddie palms your cheeks with his hands, his tongue tangles with yours. You come off his kiss gradually, waiting for instruction.

He looks down, eyeing his cock between your thighs. His gaze returns to yours; a smirk spreads on his lips. "Just like this, love. He seizes his dick in his hand, leaning back slightly. You bite your lip, giving him a little nod.

You drop down; your wetness, transferring to his head. Eddie hasn't even worked his magic on you, and you're already a mess.

He lets out a loud groan; his eyes rolling back. Your lips meet his neck, kissing him roughly; licking and nipping his skin.

Reaching around your back you skim Eddie's tip with your fingers; he lets out a deep groan. You press him toward you, guiding him to your entrance. Eddie takes a handle on your hips with his strong hands.

He presses you down. Your knees widen on the sheet as you work lower. Pressure builds between your thighs as he starts to stretch you out.

"Fuck, Eddie," you whine. Letting out a sharp breath.

You look down, watching as you take the last of him. "Are you okay, Y/n?" He whispers. There's a fire in his eyes. Eddie, fully aware of his size. You can tell he's taking satisfaction in asking. Your answer is so clearly written on your face.

"So fucking good," you groan. He smiles devilishly in reply.

"Mmm... Y/n. You feel so damn good," he moans against your lips as you start rolling your body slowly. You whimper softly into his mouth as you adjust to him. Your hands move up his tight stomach, resting on his chest.

Grinding and winding slowly, you press your hands against him; tilting your body away slightly. Eddie's eyes roam your body, watching as you work him in and out of your pussy.

You toss your head back, closing your eyes. Eddie's hands inch up your stomach, past your rib cage; massaging your breasts. His tongue meets your nipple, licking and flicking while his fingers delight the other.

"Ugh... Eddie. Fuck..." You moan loudly. Eddie lets out a lusty chuckle, quickly taking you in his arms; shifting the two of you lower on the bed.

You sink a little deeper on his cock; inhaling sharply when he lays flat. A wide smile spreads on your lips as you toe the line between pain and pleasure; already sore from the night before.

You start to bounce on the mattress. Your breasts move with you; your skin, slapping against Eddie's lap.

"Y-Yes! Fuck, baby. Mmm... Y/n. Holy shit..." Eddie pants. Your eyes meet Eddie; his gaze set on his cock.

You feel your pressure building; your walls tightening around his shaft. His eyes drift up to yours; his lips parted. "Are you gonna cum, sweetheart?" He laments. You nod quickly, feeling yourself right on the edge.

Eddie reaches for you, wrapping his arms around your body; taking you quickly to your back. He spreads your legs wide. Your breath escapes your chest when he plunges himself back in; his fingers, greet your clit.

Your thighs start to quake; jagged breaths as he starts pounding you into the soft mattress.

"Fuck, Eddie..." You roar in pleasure.

"Mmm... I'm gonna... Shit!"

You feel your climax; your body coming undone underneath him. His hips stutter, snapping into you one last time.

He draws out of you quickly. His fingers, replace his cock as he finishes you off gradually, working you through your orgasm with the slick of his release.

"Holy shit, Eddie," you pant.

"You're going to need to tell me to stop, sweetheart. Or I'm gonna keep going..."

Fuck me...

"Mmm... Stop," you sigh, reluctantly; trapping his hands between your thighs as you reach for air.

He smiles widely, staring down at you lovingly. You relax into the mattress; your back arching with your stretch. Eddie crawls slowly toward your lips, kissing you. He lingers, breathing laboriously with you.

"Good morning, Y/n," he whispers against your kiss.

[mynameis-noe-body]

Can you do a marquis one shot where the reader works as a tailor/assistant/spy for the marquis but they’re also really innocent/upbeat . As he gets to know the reader, he finds himself going from confused that they’re so cheery to loving them as they are to corruption kink?

Thank you for your patient, anon. 🖤 I hope you'll love this.

This add to a second request I recieved.

➡️ Also cause I saw you mentioned a corruption kink, one with the marquis de framing would be fantastic 🥹❤️❤️❤️❤️

I didn't quite understand, but here is corruption kink fo you. I hope you'll love this as well.

Little dove

Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont × you (F)

Rating: Explicit

Status: Complete (one shot)

“Oh, Marquis De Gramont — what a pleasure to have you here!” you exclaimed, seeing him enter your shop. You walked towards him, holding the door open and showing him your best smile. “I just got an absolutely cheeky outfit that you will love, exactly your size.”

Vincent smiled. By now he had gotten into the habit of frequenting your shop at least once a week. He didn't lack money, nor time; he loved spending a few hours on a Saturday afternoon exploring the embellished and sumptuous dresses in your shop. And most of all, he loved spending time with you.

So joyful, friendly, sweet — a little macaron. Such a lovely pastry. You were an extraordinary creature, in his eyes. He, who had seen so much death, who had held so much power—he looked at you and found such innocence in your gaze. It was a part of you that was impossible not to love.

He cleared his throat, with a wave of his hand he ordered his second to leave the shop, closing the door behind him and leaving the two of you alone. That was his moment of pleasure.

The first time he entered your shop, fascinated by the silk garments and elegant suits, the shiny patent leather shoes and the cashmere coats, Vincent believed that he would find the usual snooty shopkeeper who would try to raise the prices by realizing his status. But no, you were there. So excited to be able to show off your best suits and dress him up like a fucking prince. Vincent had to call two of his men and a second car to be able to load everything he had purchased and take it home. You had shaken his hand, you had thanked him, you had given him a discount (even!) and you had suggested that he come back soon; you would have been happy to have such a passionate customer in your shop. Vincent might have believed it was a matter of money... but upon returning, noticing the way your gaze lit up when it met his, he changed his mind. You had fun with him. You loved your job. You were excited, happy… innocent. So pure. A sweet, little pastry, in fact.

Once, arranging the collar of his shirt while he was looking at himself in the mirror, you had asked him with a certain veiled embarrassment: “Monsieur De Gramont, forgive my impudence, but I really want to ask. What is your occupation?”

He had laughed. “Are you asking me about my job?” You had blushed, you had apologized stepping back but he had turned around, taking your hand before you could move away. "No need to be embarrassed, cheri. I find your curiosity quite... charming." Your cheeks were colored the sweetest red. He had lifted your hand to his lips, leaving the ghost of a kiss on your fingers. "I am a businessman. Marquis Vincent Bisset De Gramont, at your service."

He had been absolutely lovely. And he, from that moment on, had wanted in the most perverse, craziest, most intense way, to ruin you completely.

Vincent had noticed the way you watched him, so constantly attentive to every curve of his body, the way his muscles filled your clothes, stretching the fabric, wrapping it in the most attractive way. Your intoxicating gaze devoured him, and he was dying to have your hands on him, your desperate eyes, your mouth praying for his benevolence. So submissive, and desperate. Corrupted by your own will, by the desire and pleasure that only he could have brought you.

That day, without exception, you stood behind him while he looked at himself in the mirror and admired himself. But soon, his blue eyes met yours in the reflection. He smiled.

“What do you think, my dear?”

You nodded, your face bright. “That shade of red is definitely your color.”

His eyebrow rose in mock surprise. He caressed the fabric of the jacket with his fingertips, but secretly watched the way your gaze only followed his touch. Bewitching, indeed.

“I like the jacket. I love it. This scarlet is... fiery. Don't you think?” Your eyes flickered up again, and you nodded without adding anything, attempting a shy smile. "And the pants? Do I wear them well?" It was impossible not to notice the way you blushed and swallowed slowly. He bit back a satisfied grin. With his hands on the belt, he gripped it, lifting it a little. “Look at me.”

He nodded. “Maybe I should sit down, and try to feel them.”

And you looked at him. He had them so tight — you could see everything. All of it. You had to fight against your instincts and force yourself to seek his eyes again. You smiled. “I think they are perfect, monsieur.”

Vincent sat gracefully in the armchair next to him, and sighed. There was nothing innocent about his smile. And slowly, almost imperceptibly, he spread his legs. His right hand, on his thigh, went up his leg, stopped right there, so close to his —

“Sweetheart” he interrupted you, laughing loudly. You turned your eyes, deeply embarrassed and red in the face, but he seemed almost happy with your obvious reaction. “Oh, don't get all shy now, my dear.” He made himself more comfortable in the armchair, spreading his legs in an almost vulgar, cheeky way. God, he loved that game. “Come on, look at me. I know you like it. I see you — the way you look at me — and I bet you're not as fragile and innocent as you want me to think, are you?”

Now you looked at him, with your mouth slightly open and your eyes large, wide and full of bewilderment, your cheeks scarlet, your voice trembling as you stammered an apology.

He shook his head, and his face darkened. “No. I will not accept your apology” he hissed. He raised his finger and motioned for you to come closer. “Come here, little dove.”

He wanted you to stand between his open legs, and immediately his left hand grabbed your hip, while with his right he was already unbuttoning his trousers. He licked his lips like a lion at his delicious meal, hungry, ravenous. “Keep looking at me, don't look away, I know you like it” he said.

And look at you, completely disarmed, dominated by that crazy and irrational desire that he wasn't offering to satisfy, on the contrary, it was fomenting your obsession. He was a fascinating man. And a very passionate one, from what you could see. Without any shame he pulled his hard length out of his trousers, stroking himself slowly, showing you all his virility, his silky skin, his intense hardness. He was perfect.

“And I thought you were so pure, innocent” he whispered, with a certain satisfaction. "But now I see how wrong I was, you little pervert. You like watching me, don't you? Ma petite voyeur."

But his hand suddenly slipped between your legs, he lifted your skirt without shame, found your panties already so wet for him and smiled — he smiled, the bastard.

“I — oh, Marquis, I'm mortified. I didn't mean to —”

“Don't you dare apologize again. I want to hear other sounds from your mouth.”

And his fingertips pressed against the little knot of nerves, right there, causing a vibration of pleasure throughout your body. If you were honest, that exposure and embarrassment only inflated your excitement.

“You're already shaking for me.” His voice was deep, controlled. “Tell me anything you want. I want to hear you pray. I know you can. Tell me, and I will satisfy your every curiosity.”

You breathed, your sigh became labored, panting. “Please, Marquis, I...”

He laughed. His hand continued to touch his member, so hard, up and down, and you could do nothing but watch as your intimacy became wet and your hunger grew without rest. "You what, my dear? Do you want me? Is that it? Do you want my hand, my mouth?"

You nodded.

“No — no, love. Tell me.”

You swallowed, searching for a small voice in your chest. "I want you."

“What do you want?”

"All of you!" his fingers moved the panties, you finally felt his touch on you. And, hungrily, they sought the little wet hole between your soft lips. You could hear the sticky sound of your arousal on his fingers.

“Again, tell me more.”

“Your fingers, they're so — oh, oh please. Inside!”

He licked his lips. “What a good girl. You know your manners. But I don't want you so innocent darling, we know how dirty you really are, don't we?”

You shook your head, but you couldn't deny the truth to yourself.

“Tell me you're mine, tell me how much you want me.”

On the verge of tears, humiliated and excited, you nodded. “I'm yours, all yours. I — I want you so bad.”

His fingers slipped inside you, sweet and intense, touching all those perfect spots that made you moan all your pleasure. And you closed your eyes, for a moment. He stopped.

“Nu-uh, eyes on me. You like to watch. Tell me you like it.”

Yes, yes. “I love it. You are...”

“What? Don't be afraid. I want to hear everything.”

“Perfect. Your body, your...”

Oh, you were still so embarrassed. No, he wanted more. Vincent stood up suddenly, mistreated you hard, pushing you onto the chair. So, still dressed, he knelt over you, tickling your pussy lips with the head of his hard cock. You were dying of pleasure, and you looked at him excited and scared at the same time.

“I know you want it — say it. Tell me you're my little slut, tell me you want my hard cock inside you. Say it!”

And you cried, pleading. “I'm everything you want! Your whore, your tight cunt, your little slut — just give it to me, fuck me hard, now!”

And Vincent finally obeyed.

He fucked you, hard and deep, with an unprecedented ardor, grabbing your hair, your neck, biting your lips, spitting on your tongue.

“More, use me!” you begged. "Yours, only yours! I love it! Fuck my cunt — my ass. Yes, spit on my tongue, and fuck me like you mean it!”

“Dirty, dirty girl” he growled. His fingers dug into your thighs. "I knew you were a slut underneath, all mine. My little voyeur, my bad, dirty girl. That's it, take it, take it all!”

The contractions of your orgasm milked his cock, every drop of his come inside you. And you panted his name, and every dirty thing, now corrupted by that pleasure and prey to a will stronger than you. Your every word was honey. He came inside you, on top of you, making you dirty inside and out.

And looking at you like this, ruined for him, Vincent understood that you were no longer the innocent, sweet girl he thought he had met the first time.

[mynameis-noe-body]

So yeah — i haven't been active lately even though I am still trying to write because I haven't been healthy and I have been hospitalized tonight, as you may see.

I'll post the requests and the new chapter of the Old Mill at the Hogsmeade's Eastern Forest as soon as I can.

[mynameis-noe-body]

jim hopper // stranger things

[mynameis-noe-body]

i but i am

miss you dead

[mynameis-noe-body]

Mutuals in Italy? Anyone?