#not proofread btw

[m4nonz]

⋆. 𐙚˚࿔ tears run down my thighs 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

𝘪 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶

𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘣𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘺.

𝜗𝜚 a little respect for women got sophia very, very far.

𝜗𝜚 gentlewoman! sophia x 7th member! reader headcanons fluff friends to lovers smut g!p sophia 1.3k words

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who you knew there was something about her on the day you first met, she had a big sister energy for all the girls on dream academy, including yourself, but with you, it seemed like a special care.

“come in, i will show you your room, you will like it.” you still remembered how she had a palm at the end of your back and the other hand opening the door knob for you as she guided you in the corridors of the dorm. you all were hopeful, young girls far away from home and from your families, you were so scared, excited, but scared… sophi showed you nothing but gentleness. “your bags seem heavy, let me carry them for you.”

“you sure? you don’t need to…” you tried to argue as she got your backpack from your back and gently replaced your hand pushing your suitcase with her own.

“i don’t mind, it’s okay.”

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who really, really doesn’t mind in helping you :( she’s always watching you on rehearsals, making sure you’re keeping up with every move, she brings you water through the breaks and asks you if you’re okay, if you need a longer break, complimenting your performance or bringing up points you need to improve without making you feel bad, she knows that it’s better if you’re being gently guided by her instead of the choreographers scolding you and being harsh.

“it was so good! just try to lift your leg a little higher on the third beat, do you think you can do that?”

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who debuted with you, but even then, as you both cried your eyes out and hugged each other, a mess of tears and smiles from 7 girls who finally made it, she still made sure to dry your rolling tears with her gentle fingers :( taking extra care with your makeup as she did so, hugging you so tightly after <3

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who you slowly fell in love with, a soft torture that you finally realized when the pressure of the survival show didn’t crushed your other emotions and feelings anymore. sophia was everything, and not falling in love with her simply wouldn’t be natural, she held your hand when you needed to, she let you take a 10minute nap on her shoulder when the rehearsals were too much, she opened the doors, she payed for the food when you went out, she fixed your hair and makeup mid show, she kneeled to tie your shoes and your heels without you even asking her for it, she checked on you constantly… a sweet, sweet torture.

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who you knew, in your heart, you could never make a move. she was your leader, and a romantic relationship between members was way more than a break of contract, was something that, if it ended, the group would be ruined, not only your dreams or sophia’s dreams, but also for the five of your best friends… that was unthinkable, so you decided to hide it, never let it show, there was no reason for that, it would pass, eventually.

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who made it quite harder for you by the way she kept treating you, acting like a devoted girlfriend who would go out of her way just make you happy and cared for.

sophi 💘: rehearsals were beating our asses today 😭 you need anything?

sophi 💘: i will have get us food, you can pick

sophi 💘: my treat!

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who you tried to be away, to avoid her as you could while being in the very same girl group as hers, but on a after party after a long show with screaming fans and loud music, you finally lose it, sophia was being just too good for you to ignore, asking you if you wanted her to get you a drink, taking your hair out of your face with such gentle hands, looking onto your face with her shiny eyes… too much, just too much for you to handle.

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who saw herself being dragged into the restroom by your hand, practically thrown on the wall and then your lips were covering hers, she was surprised, shocked even, her hands found your shoulders to push you back a little, just enough to be able to see your face, just enough so she could talk to you.

“what you’re doing?” she asks, a little out of breath, cheeks flushed, eyes confused. then you confess, how you’ve been wanting her for months now, how the feelings have been there since… since ever, how she made it so difficult by being her caring, sweet self, by taking care of you in every way, she listens, she smiles.

“i… i want you too, of course i do. you sure you’re not too drunk, mahal?” her tone, so gentle… ugh, you really can’t take it anymore, you kiss her again, harder, your tongue invading her mouth, your hands burying your fingers into her silky dark strands, she wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you close enough to feel her hard cock pressing against your tummy, you immediately bring a hand down to stroke her through the fabric, feeling the outline, so perfect, so hot… but she pushes your hand softly back to her face.

“no… let me take care of you, princess.” she murmurs against your lips, switching your positions so you were against the restroom wall, she kisses you slower then, wet, sensual kisses dropping down your body, your neck, your shoulder, your collarbone, then your breasts, she gives both of them a little attention, just enough to make your nipples hard and your pussy clenching around nothing. not for too long, through, quick enough her clever hands yank your dress up your thighs, pulling your panties to the side and one of your legs above her shoulder, her tongue finds your sensitive clit and with a moan, your head falls back.

“so beautiful… you taste so good, so good.” her muffled whispers against your wet pussy mixed with the sounds of the crowded party outside makes your head almost fuzzy, your only thought was to cum on her tongue, and she made it quite easier as she slide it inside you, deep, one hand moving up to play with your pretty tits.

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who made you cum twice in her mouth before taking you back to the hotel, this time, on the bed, she took her sweet time with your body, she praised your bare skin as if you were aphrodite’s daughter, eat you out until your thighs were trembling and you were begging for her cock, but when she reached out the nightstand to grab a condom— none. not even a single one forgotten in the drawer. she cussed out and told you she would send someone to buy but you were just too needy to wait.

“no, sophi… it’s okay, please… i want you now.” your legs wrapped around her hips and you pushed her closer, her cock brushed against your wet lips and she gasped for a second at the feeling, using every ounce of her self control to not bury herself inside your warmth. “you sure, mahal? are you sure, hm?” she breathes against your cheek, kissing it softly as you nodded and then guided her inside…

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who fucked you all night, her body between your spread legs, her body so sweaty and hot on top of yours, her face buried on your neck moaning how good your pussy feels around her cock and how much she wanted this, she pulled out every time, jerking herself off and cumming all over your tummy before thrusting in again and ruining you one more time, she made sure you were wrecked by the end of the night, legs shaking and body exhausted.

⸻ gentlewoman! sophia who took care of your tender body afterwards, she wiped her cum from your belly, kissed your face and caressed your hair, both of you too exhausted to move to take a bath, so she let you rest your head over her chest and listened to your breathing fanning out as you fell deeply into a very needed sleep.

[warmlymei]

mdni. your boyfriend is still on a zoom meeting and you're almost late to your dinner reservation. what's a girl to do other than have her own fun?

pairing. bf!kento x fem. reader

tags. oral (m) recieving, he bends you over and hits it from da back, bratty reader

you're in the tiniest black dress you own, paired with your favorite red-bottomed kitten heels, and your makeup is quite frankly on point. so why in the world is your boyfriend not paying attention to you?

work, he says. he has another "urgent" meeting and he has asked you to move your date night dinner reservation back an hour. but honestly? fuck that. even on his day off he has to be a slave to his laptop. totally unfair to his underkissed, underfucked girlfriend, you think.

now, typically you'd consider yourself to be a pretty understanding person. but every once in a while you have to get sick of things like this. every once in a while, you deserve to be a little immature, right? totally, you convince yourself.

this is how you find yourself crawling under his work desk, emerging between his thighs as he says something about quarter four financial projections or whatever. he notices you, no doubt, laughing awkwardly as he nudges your head away with his hand, a tacit signal to behave.

obviously, you don't.

you pry open his beefy thighs with the palms of your hand, planting a soft kiss to his crotch. he pulls your hair, fisting at your scalp and pushing away harder. another warning you easily ignore. he doesn't look down still.

you unfasten the top button of his trousers and pull down the zipper, revealing his boxers.

oh?

you smirk. he's already hard.

you pepper kitten licks and kisses down his clothed shaft, marveling in the way he shifts uncomfortably at your touch. his hand still pulls at your hair, but his hold loosened, like he's given up on turning you away.

"sir, what are your thoughts about the previous team's report?" someone asks, voice muffled from the static of the call.

"uh," kento coughs twice, uncharacteristically faltering. at that very moment, you pull the top of his boxers down and swirl your tongue on his tip, licking up his salty precum. "it was okay," he says through a heavy grunt.

"really?" someone echoes, "i think we still have some serious work to do."

kento can't utter a word, merely managing a thoughtful-sounding hum. you take him all in, wrapping your glossy lips around his girth and sinking down, hollowing your cheeks and letting saliva drip everywhere---just how he likes it.

his hips buck upward, and you almost start laughing. but you don't, too immersed in bobbing your head up and down and making life harder for him.

"nanami-san, is everything okay?" a concerned woman asks, voice with an undertone far too flirty for your liking. you shove his cock all the way in, letting it lodge into the back of your throat.

it's so hard to breathe, you think you might die. but that's no problem when your dreamboat of a boyfriend audibly hisses, nearly pulling your hair out with his hands.

"nanami-san?"

he steadies his breathing, that awkward half-laugh making a reappearance again.

"sorry, my cat scratched me," he explains through gritted teeth.

for the first time this evening, he looks down at you, feigning a fond expression when you're sure that in reality, you're pissing him off. good. you want him pissed. he gives it to you better that way.

desperate for air, you pull backwards and grin at him with a dopey, fucked-out smile.

you wonder how you might look to him, on all fours under his work desk, black dress hugging your body tight, straps falling your shoulders, cleavage in plain sight as the red of your kitten heels peek from below.

he returns his attention to the zoom meeting, where finally, people seem to be getting tired of endless business jargon being thrown back and forth. you don't stop your work, though, pumping your saliva-coated hand up and down his shaft and peppering kisses all along the length.

finally, the familiar ping of an ended call arrives.

you don't have time to think when kento drags you up by the hair with one hand, cupping your face with the other. he squeezes your cheeks as you topple into his lap.

"thought that was funny, baby?"

"hilarious," you deadpan through squished cheeks.

he scoffs, low and soft and entirely pissed off. but in the calm and patient kento way that makes your insides twist.

in moments, you're bent over his desk, butt jutting backwards as his dick slides between your thighs. your dress bunches at your waist, and he pulls down the top part so that your tits are hovering loose above the table.

your nipples graze against the the cold wood as you stumble to find balance, kento's strong, beefy arms holding you steady.

one hand comes up to tweak at your nipples, and the other rubs small, tight circles at your clit. you whimper in delight as kento bends over and whispers into your ear.

"not so funny now, huh, princess?"

"fuck you," you murmur, grinding back into his dick, desperate for friction.

"fussy little girl," he grunts, before pulling your underwear to the side and dragging his thick cock between your puffy folds.

you both groan at the sensation, and you arch your back into him even more. it's like that for the next few moments, him teasing you with his length, and he's not even inside you yet but you're already embarrassingly close.

"you wanted attention, didn't you?" he whispers sweetly into your ear, in that low and heavenly-sent voice.

"yes," you whimper, giving up on being a brat. you need him now. "please, please fuck me."

"you want it that badly?" he pulls your nipple, still rubbing taut circles on your clit as you jut backwards.

"yes, please," you moan, on the verge of crying.

he hums, satisfied, and his warmth leaves you momentarily when he pulls back to push down his trousers and boxers. then, he aligns himself at your entrance, the head of his cock probing at your heat.

he slowly pushes in, his girth dragging through your folds and hand wrapped around your stomach to steady you. you let our several heavy breaths. he fills you up slowly, stretching out your walls and sending spikes of white hot pleasure everywhere.

when he's inside, you feel so full of him that he's practically in your lungs.

then, this mother fucker starts to move. and god, is it glorious. he pulls back, depriving your walls of that wonderfully-stretched out sensation, only to ram back in with twice the amount of force, the head of his cock hitting the spot again and again and again.

your juices drip down your thighs. he pulls your hair back. saliva dribbles down your chin, and you're making noises so animalistic the neighbors might call animal control. then, he goes back to rubbing tight circles on your clit and you're a done girl.

you're so close. literally almost to the gates of heaven.

but before you get there, his pace slows down, and you audibly whine. he fishes his phone and places it in front of you before you have a moment to protest or ask why.

"your turn." he kisses your shoulder. "cancel the fucking reservation while i stuff you full of my cock, princess."

he's trying to teach you a lesson, you realize. so that you won't be so immature in the future.

little does he know that this only makes you want to misbehave even more.

notes. heyyyyy so this is my official application to join jjk tumblr... will u guys accept me pls (˶˃⤙˂˶) of course i had to start with my MAN nanami hehe. hope u enjoyed!

[ohimsummer]

this is torture.

this is the closest suguru's ever been in his life to begging for someone to suck him off. he wonders if he's angered you to deserve such a punishment.

maybe he was a little too loud coming home last night and he woke you up. but no, that can't be it. you're usually a heavy sleeper, and even if you were awake at whatever ungodly hour he returned, it's because you chose to be.

it could be that you're paying him back for teasing you with the feather toy for so long yesterday. though, that doesn't sound right, either, if your wide pupils and flicking tail were any indicator. you weren't frustrated, just being playful.

suguru realizes he's overthinking things. you're not teasing him—not on purpose, anyway. this display of behavior is quite the opposite. if he's truly pissed you off, you'd be ignoring him entirely. no, cat hybrids groom their owners to show that they love them.

which means suguru will have to remain sitting here, with a clenched fist on the couch's armrest, as you continue to groom the hairs of his happy trail. you've been at it for a while now, licking the dark path of hairs to your heart's content, not yet satisfied with their appearance. there's a loud rumble emitting from your throat. your tail swishes idly behind you, and suguru feels the occasional poke of your claws as you knead at his thigh. somehow the nip of pain turns him on further.

he sighs. you're lucky you're cute.

[deusfoundry]

zayne domestic fluff brainrot again except this time, it's you who comes home to him, and he finally gets to pamper and serve you the way you always do for him.

you're greeted by a warm waft of air the moment you open the door. the entire apartment is filled with the smell of your favorite dishes and you know instantly that, for the first time in weeks, zayne is home before you.

you hastily take off your coat and shoes, rushing past your cat sprawled in the middle of the hallway and to the kitchen where you find zayne. he's got an apron loosely tied around his waist. it takes you a second to realize that it's your gift from last week, the one that came in bright baby blue with ruffled, lace edges and an embroidered snowman dead center.

"it reminded me of you!" is what you had said when you handed it to him over dinner.

and he had thanked you with a feathery kiss on your knuckles, "i suppose i look a bit like this snowman, no?”

it still warms your heart, oddly enough, despite the fact that zayne has never been one to turn down any of your gifts, no matter how trivial or silly they were. he still has the keychain you gave him secured on the handle of his bag. the ceramic white kitten you got from your trip out of town five years ago sits comfortably on the desk at his office. one cutout panel from a photo strip of you and your cat is tucked inside an antique heart-shaped locket you found in some thrift store downtown. and there's not a moment where that locket isn't on him, one way or another, hung around his neck or buried in the safety of his pockets during surgery.

he adores you, and by extension every little trinket or piece of clothing you decide to give him.

the moment zayne turns down the heat on the stove is when you decide to make your presence known. you take light, careful steps as you walk towards him.

you wrap your arms around his waist, hands settling over his stomach.

and either he knows you've been lingering near the kitchen for a while or you weren't as sneaky as you thought, because he's not startled with your sudden arrival. he merely hums, as if to acknowledge your presence, before immediately melting against your touch. he takes one of your hands in his, the one that's not holding on to the ladle, and brings it closer to his lips.

"welcome home." he presses a kiss over your palm, absentmindedly tracing the lines with his finger. "dinner's almost ready. you should go and wash up.”

"this is a lot, zayne. thank you." you nuzzle a cheek against his back, trying to bring yourself impossibly closer to him as if you aren't already soul to soul at this very moment. "can't i at least set the table? wanna help you.”

"don't worry about it, my love." zayne turns down the stove completely. he faces you for the first time this evening, and you try not to be taken aback at how he looks at you. a bright gaze that makes him look like he’s in a trance as he’s staring at you. his eyes track the few strands of hair that manage to escape from behind your ear. he’s quick to move them out of the way. from there, his hand naturally gravitates towards your cheek where his thumb drags across smooth skin. he digs into the flesh with little pressure. "let me take care of you tonight.”

"if you insist.”

you can't help but laugh at how he sends you off. he’s ushering you to go to your shared bedroom, to get out of the clothes you’ve spent your entire day in and freshen up, but his hand stays firmly clasped around yours. it takes a few weak tugs and a lot of coaxing, of dragging out his name and using every possible pet name that comes to your mind for him to finally let you go.

when you return to your dining area after a quick shower, half of the lights are turned off. there's a set of three candles in the middle of the table lined with the placemats you only ever bring out when your parents are visiting.

zayne notices your arrival as he’s in the middle of placing two bowls of soup near your plates. he pulls out your chair, revealing the small bouquet of red chrysanthemums resting on it.

“for you.”

you’re briefly surprised as you take the flowers in your hands. he moves closer until his palm finds the small of your back.

"if i didn't know any better, i'd say you're planning on popping the question tonight.” you tease.

zayne tries to hide the pink dusting his cheeks by looking the other way. “can’t a man spoil his beloved?”

“oh, of course he can.” you reach for his face, taking his jaw by your hand. gently and with little resistance, you turn his face towards yours. “and his beloved couldn’t be more grateful. really, zayne, you didn’t have to do all of this.”

“i got off work early. when you told me you were working overtime, i thought it was the least i can do.”

“then let’s not keep the food waiting.” you smile.

you and zayne eat in an almost complete absence of silence as you urge him to talk about his day. and you find that it was pretty uneventful for the most part, except for the little girl he met in the hospital’s cafeteria.

“her name's mika.” he says between sips of red wine. “she’s six and she owns a cat who's three years older than her.”

you hum, motioning for him to continue.

“i met her little brother too. his name's louis, but he doesn't like being called that because it sounds too much like the name of the girl he apparently hates in school.”

“wow,” you breathe, “look at you, doctor zayne. akso hospital’s world-renowned chief cardiac surgeon and speaker to all toddlers.”

he lets out a low laugh, “i gave them some of the macarons you baked.”

“that’s adorable! did they like it?”

"when they asked who made them, i said they were baked by someone i hold near to my heart." zayne nods as he wipes the edge of lips with a napkin. "they said i should make sure to give that person lots of love."

"oh?" you lean forward, reaching across the table and past the plates of food to find his hand. "i think they might be right, doctor zayne."

zayne chuckles, choosing to indulge you. “i think so too.”

“meet me in the bedroom after i clean up?” he stands up, moving to stack the empty plates on top of each other. but you decide to beat him to it, swiftly taking the plates in your hand and out of his reach.

"leave this to me, love."

zayne frowns. there’s a slight crease on his forehead as he tries—but ultimately fails to protest. “but-”

“no buts. you’ve done enough for me tonight.”

but if there’s one thing about zayne that drives you mad, it’s that he knows when to use your weaknesses against you. he knows which parts of your bare skin to touch, what to say, how to say it. he knows that his hand sitting dangerously low on your back makes it hard for you to think of anything else. he knows that him leaning down to speak directly to your ear, hot breath fanning across cold skin, is enough to cloud your judgement.

“how about we do it together, then?”

bastard.

“fine…” you relent, knees feeling a little weak.

you two work in the kitchen like a perfectly well-oiled machine for the next half hour. he transfers all the leftovers into containers you plan on reheating over the week while you begin to scrub the plates clean.

"perhaps i did make too much…" he remarks at one point. it pulls a laugh out of you, and you bring your soap-covered hand to poke him in the cheek.

"cute." you mutter under your breath.

as the moon draws closer to its peak, you find yourself tucked in zayne’s arms, hiding under the sheets. the silk adds a layer of privacy, an added solace to the already peaceful four walls of your bedroom. and as you drift further into the land of your dreams, you think there's nothing else that could possibly be better than spending the rest of your life with zayne.

and maybe he has been sitting on the question for a while now. maybe he does have a tiny box tucked at the very back of his drawer, just waiting for the right moment to be worn on your ring finger.

[omenics]

YAY I'm glad you want to write vamps!! I always welcome more Castlevania Dracula x reader content! feel free to choose the general scenarios, but if you're comfortable writing it I'd love to hear about how he handles being tempted by your blood 👀

𝐀𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐀.

› ..your taste is like ambrosia, the nectar of the gods. gn reader. — i got carried away with this guys vampires draw out the worst in me LMAO. if this is too intimate and eyebrow raising im sorry i love vampires and their stupid metaphorical actions for romance.

Dracula is ancient. He is old. He has walked the earth for centuries, and has learned to ease his bloodlust. Yes, he is very well-acquainted with the temptations that comes with vampirism, and he does his best to keep his fangs clean, for he is not the man he once was.

It is enticing. The smell that emits from your pretty pulse points, the way your heartbeat echoes and reverberates off of the castle walls drive his bloodlust farther. But he holds back. He will not succumb to his primal instincts. Not yet, at least.

But the day will come. He knows it will, for when your neck flaunts itself through the collar of your clothes he feels his façade slip and his hunger grow.

So the day comes, he holds a hand gingerly and sinks his teeth into your wrist. No, it is not the neck, but he feels like this is more appropriate than biting you in such an intimate place. He would not do anything you did not wish and would take it slowly, which is why his fangs would dip into the supple skin of your wrist; to ease you into the puncturing pain that will become familiar to you.

To Vlad, the act is intimate. He savours it, taking his time to ensure comfort and relish in the taste, smell, and essence. So when the time comes and his fangs graze your neck, he feels your pulse quicken under his lips, and his hand would make its way to the side of your head and softly entangle it in your hair, craning your head to the side for better access. Agonizingly slow his fangs would pierce into your flesh, drinking like a starved dog.

If he could he would stay there for eternity, to bleed you dry because your blood tastes like ambrosia, the food of the gods. He will not succumb to such basic and primal instincts no matter how much he wants to. He will not become more of a monster than he already is. Instead he would drink in the gasps that leave you, the pained hitch in your breath when he punctures your neck. He would not try to soothe you, too drunk on the taste he neglected for so long.

But the way it tastes on his tongue would drive him mad. It would simultaneously ease his bloodlust and drive it, making him want more. Enticing you were, so utterly cruel, but he would not lose himself in your scent. He would not allow it. You would not be a personal blood-bank for him, you are so much more than that.

You are his Achilles heel with your sweet taste. You would make him crumble to his knees just for a taste. He is weak for you, your scent and your smell. He becomes nothing more than a starved man when his fangs puncture your neck and tongue lap up the sweet, sweet nectar that oozes out and down your sweet skin.

[luvyard]

“DON’T LEAVE.”

“Come here.”

The prince beckoned with a finger, that same playful smirk he had on his pretty tanned face whenever he wanted to mess around with you. The coquettish glint left his eyes as you turned on your boot, effectively ignoring his command, and left the room, closing the door to his chambers with a resounding echo.

“Wait!” His body bolted upwards and long legs carried him toward the door. Before his brain could even reason, he was out the door, on your tail. Princes didn’t beg, they didn’t chase after anything nor anyone, much less a lowly palace guard.

Oh, but he would. He would chase you down to the very ends of the earth if it meant he could have a sliver of your time. A fragment of your presence near him. A piece of your perfect smile that seemed to have burned a hole into his perfectly made shell. He craved it, more than he’d care to admit. He wanted your time, your presence, your smile—every polished princess who swooned his way be damned, he wanted you.

They didn’t challenge him like you did. They didn’t laugh with genuineness and annoyance at his stupid jokes like you did. They didn’t care for his wellbeing like you did.

They simply could never hold a candle to you.

Princes demanded the attention of every subject. Common folk should beg for him. For his time, for his presence, for his charming grin, for his very existence.

But all that was thrown aside the moment he reached you. The very moment he spun you around when he clutched onto your armor-clad forearm.

Princes like him did not lower themselves to this feeling.

None of it mattered to him though. It never did. He was resigned; resigned to this ache he felt whenever you left his side. Love? Is that what the tales talk about? Whatever it was, it wasn’t fleeting. It wouldn’t leave him. The emotion had burrowed into his flesh and wouldn’t relent. It pulsed whenever you neared and whenever you’d leave. The blood would rush to his complexion, a crack in his prim and proper form. All he knew was that caution was thrown to the wind when it came to you. The lovely guard who had dominated his very heart, mind and soul.

He couldn’t stop it, he couldn’t expel the feeling that had taken up residence in the beats of his heart. And he could only hope that, maybe, after all these years of being at his side, you suffered from the same pesky disease he had endured all this time.

He figured. He reasoned. He mulled it over countless times.

Love?

His plush mouth met yours before he could piece it all together.

Please, tell me you feel this too.

He moved slow, hesitance mingled with pure adoration for you seeping through his kiss.

Please. Please.

His grip on your arm only tightened, and he hoped you didn’t mind it. His nerves overtaken by the overwhelming feeling of your lips finally slotted between his.

Please.

And there it was. As if time had been running slower and now came back to full speed. Your hand had reached up and curled at his nape, drawing him nearer, desiring his kiss as much as he had desired yours. He couldn’t help the soft grin that stretched across his lips, the hand that once gripped your forearm anxiously relaxed and slid slowly between your unoccupied hand. After a moment more, he rested his forehead on yours, the tips of your noses grazing as he tried to regain his breath.

Such an intimate expression that he only dreamed of doing. And he couldn’t go back to living without it, no matter the consequences.

“Don’t leave.” He breathed against your lips, his gaze fixed on yours and utterly lovesick.

Not a trace of the prince was present in his words or his eyes, but rather, the man that had been desperately in love with you had surfaced and seemed like nothing would keep him from having you at his side the way he’s been longing to.

-

✉️note from the luvyard keeper: bring back men who LONG >>>

[the-fox-writer]

Comfort & Relief

I saw this beautiful art by @bluvioletbird and I had to write about it! I hope you enjoy<3

You think you and Nox have intimacy issues, but there's more to the man than meets the eye.

Tags: Nox/gn!reader, comfort fic, brief descriptions of injuries.

You hadn't thought much about it at first, and maybe that was on you. But as time progressed, it became increasingly obvious that Nox had a habit of dodging intimate situations. Sexual ones, sure. But even ones you'd consider rather.. Mundane?

"Want to shower together?"

"No, thank you."

"We never cuddle skin to skin."

"We don't, no."

"Want a massage? You look tense."

"I'm fine."

Nox wasn't big on public displays of affection, either. But that was fine, acceptable. He was plenty affectionate in private. He slept best with you in his arms, you tucked under his chin. He'd explicitly stated as much. He didn't hesitate to kiss you or hold your hand, either.

So it only served to confuse you as you watched him grab his pajamas, disappearing out of your bedroom and into the bathroom instead. Every night he stayed with you was like this. You knew you had to ask at some point, just see what page he was on. But you didn't want to scare him off or anything.

You sighed, changing into your own pajamas. It didn't take Nox long to join you again, placing his folded clothing on the dresser. He adjusted his loose white pajamas, toying with the edge of the almost scarf he wore.

Nox pulled your duvet back, sliding into the bed. You turned the room light on, the small nightlight attached to the outlet by the door flickered on. A little moon. He never asked, you never said anything. But you knew it soothed him.

He turned in the bed to get comfortable and you didn't miss the way he winced, quiet but the silence of the room betrayed him. You sat on the edge of the bed, but turned towards him, his back to you.

"Do you want me to get you the heat pad?" You offered, tone as gentle as you could muster. Nox didn't say anything at first, his hand pressed to his hip. He was hiding his pain from you and it made you frown. "Let me help you, Kensei." It wasn't often you used his real name, even if he didn't mind as much in private.

He nodded weakly, his hand fell to the mattress beside him and he exhaled shakily. You reached over, gently squeezing his hip before you got out of the bed. You quietly left the room to go acquire the heat pad in question, a simple electrical one that plugged in.

"Alright hopefully this'll help but if it doesn't I also have a gel therapy ice pack in the freezer…"

You trailed off, he was shirtless. With his back toward you, you could see a faint scar that seemed to wrap around his body. It looked like a bit like a burn from the back but it was difficult to tell from the angle and the dim light of the night light.

Nox held himself, looking up at you as you approached him. The front was worse, you noted, eyes trailing over the vicious scar. His sternum seemed to have taken the brunt of whatever injury, namely his manubrium. Burn seemed accurate, or it was close enough. The vivid patterns were hard to describe.

You tore your eyes away from it. It was rude to stare, even if the reason was simply because it hurt your heart. You handed him the brown square heat pad and he slowly unfolded himself to take it. Then you bent down and plugged it into the outlet just behind the nightstand.

You stood up again and picked up the connected controller on the wire, you then set on the edge of the bed beside him. "Power button, level buttons. I wouldn't go higher than a five on bare skin though."

Nox nodded and laid back down, trying to find a comfortable position. His eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, his breathing came out ragged. He swallowed after a few seconds, thick and pained. He carefully tucked part of the heat pad underneath him, where the scar wrapped to his waist. He made sure it covered his hip, using his arm to hold down the other half of the heat pad on top of him.

"Can you turn it on for me?"

You nodded, turning your attention to the remote. You turned it on, putting it on a four to start. You then tucked the remote under his pillow so it wouldn't bother him. Nox closed his eyes, but the pain was written on his face. You grabbed the edge of the duvet, pulling it up and over him.

While you did get another glance at the scar, varying hues of pink, purple, and red angry against his pale skin. You turned your attention back to aiding the man. You tucked him in comfortably.

"Thank you.."

Nox spoke with careful words, the fingers of his free hand balled the sheets. "It's nothing." You reassured him, reaching over to run your fingers through his soft dark hair. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

He shook his head, eyes cracking open to look at you with a tenderness you knew was reserved for the quietest of moments. "Lay with me, please." And you nodded, pulling your hand back to get off his side of the bed.

You slid into your side of the bed, pulling the warm blankets over you. You wiggled up to his side, very carefully putting your arm over his waist. You tensed. But he didn't say anything or make any pained sound at the touch. You relaxed.

Nox turned his head towards you, nose close to yours. He released the sheet, weakly bringing his hand up to hold your hand instead. The angle was awkward and you were sure it'd hurt him even more in the morning. But his soft expression as he stared at you melted your heart, you didn't have it in you to chastise him.

"Sweet dreams."

"Night, Nox." You leaned up, kissing him softly. It was a gentle kiss he returned before settling his head back on the pillow.

Your fears had been unfounded, you realised with relief, as Nox shared yet another of his secrets with you.

[deutsche-bahn]

Nach den Rückfragen zu diesem Post ist es glaube ich an der Zeit dass ich euch von dem Tschechen erzähle. Das ist jetzt halt auch definitiv der Punkt wo ihr entweder aufhört mir zu glauben, weil's jetzt ein bisschen zu absurd wird, oder ihr entscheidet entgütlig dass das nicht ausgedacht sein kann, weil who the fuck would come up with this nonsense

Zurück zum Tschechen. Er spricht mit starkem tschechischen Akzent, wird nur Vladi genannt und hat eine gewisse antisozial-kriminelle Energie.

Eigentlich heißt er dabei gar nicht Vladi, sondern hat einen ziemlich deutschen Namen. Und eigentlich kann er absolut akzentfreies Hochdeutsch. Der Mann hat auch eigentlich BWL studiert. Gut, dabei hat er Bafög mittels Betrug für zwei Identitäten bezogen, aber er hat halt an sich BWL studiert. Und gut, er ist zwar derjenige der aus irgendeinem Grund immer etwas Morphium im Auto hat, nur für den Fall, aber er hat sowohl 'nen Verein als auch 'ne GmbH gegründet. Und bis dato wurde er auch nur aus einem von beiden rausgeworfen. Er ist die personifizierte Gratwanderung der Alltagstauglichkeit.

Er bringt dementsprechend ein gewisses bisschen an Chaos mit sich. Und ist darüber hinaus mein selbst gewählter Endgegner, was dumm ist, weil er doppelt so groß und fast doppelt so alt wie ich ist. Der Akkordeonspieler sah mal zu wie ich dem Tschechen von hinten in die Kniekehle trat, der Tscheche mir widerum ein Glas Wasser über den Kopf kippte, und kommentierte das mit "Schön, dass du endlich wieder jemanden in deinem Alter gefunden hast mit dem du dich streiten kannst". Und ging.

Ein anderes Mal beugte ich mich über seine Schulter während er auf dem Boden saß, sagte Hallo, und wurde daraufhin von ihm gefragt "Ezra, kannst du Salto?". Bevor ich antworten konnte hatte er mich am Kragen gepackt und über seine Schulter nach vorne gezogen, sodass ich auf dem Rücken im Kreis der Umsitzenden lag.

Der Akkordeonspieler rief mich damals, als ich den Tschechen noch nicht lange kannte einmal sehr aufgelöst an. "Alter, ich dachte ihr hasst euch" sagte er. "Und er saß hier, und als ich dich zwischendurch erwähnt habe fing er an vonwegen 'ich liebe den Jungen, der ist großartig'! The fuck?". Was ich nur bestätigen kann. Physical assault ist unsere persönliche love language, fick dich.

Dafür lernte ich vom Tschechen auch, dass man, sollte ich wieder aus Versehen jemanden beleidigt haben, im Zweifelsfall mindestens genauso beleidigt tun sollte. "Kurwa, willst du mich beleidigen?" ist glaube ich der Satz den ich am häufigsten von ihm höre. Direkt gefolgt von der fachlich fundierten Begründung warum das Gesetz gerade auf seiner Seite ist. Inklusive Akzentwechsel mitten im Monolog.

Der Tscheche ist nebenbei begnadeter Gitarrist. Leider könnte er keinen Takt halten wenn's um sein Leben ginge, weswegen er zwar der wesentlich talentiertere von uns ist, der Akkordeonspieler aber trotzdem mich am Ärmel mitschleift wenn es darum geht sein gottverdammtes Instrument zu begleiten.

Ganz der Gitarrist wurde ich mal von jemandem angesprochen weil sich besagte Person Sorgen um sein... Konsumverhalten machte. Fine, verständlich. Aber ich konnte die wohl beunruhigendsten Worte zur allgemeinen Beruhigung aussprechen die ich je von mir geben musste: Keine Sorge, alles unter Kontrolle, das Problem hat sich erübrigt! Er hatte nämlich bereits vorher an dem Abend aus Versehen in seine kleine Dose voller Pep geniest, und den Stoff effizient in der Atmosphäre verteilt. Und bis heute möchte ich den Satz "Scheiße man, Vladi hat in's Pep geniest" irgendwo verewigen, aber nichts eignet sich als geeignete Leinwand für einen so... bedeutungsschweren Satz. Nehmt keine Drogen, kids, sonst werdet ihr noch wie der Tscheche.