ask: saw that n/s/f/w requests are open ! would you have any thoughts on neuvillette ? i adore your characterization for all the characters
AHHHHHH OTZ thoughts??? I have plenty. this ask is suchhh a blessing thank you for sending this in!!!!!! neuvillette is my absolute fav rn and I could yap about him for days on end. AND THANK YOU TT I TRY! I hope this isn't too ooc bc I'm still playing through the archon quest but that doesn't stop me from horny posting. also I wasn't sure if you wanted something that leaned more towards dc/yan content so I left this pretty tame, but if that is what you wanted feel free to let me know 😭😭😭 also shout-out to aria my twin if ur seeing this 🥺
contents: gender neutral (bottom) reader, plus an afab + fem presenting reader section towards the end. soft!dom neuvillette, sexual repression, lots and lots of praise, bondage. end section: breeding/cream pies, dollification + brief cock warning. MDNI.
I do see him as deeply sexually repressed. of course, in the past he's had urges, desires that he's always wanted to fulfill, but he'd chose more often than not to not satiate them. how could he, when there were far more important matters at hand to focus on instead? as the iudex of fontaine, he must have enough discipline to not give in to such compulsions... but, that's not to say he's never given into them; there's been a few nights, especially after meeting you, where he'd attend to himself, pleasuring himself either to blow off some steam from the long days of work, or to the filthy thoughts of you that infect his mind against his better judgement, although he'd often feel a tinge of embarrassment or shame when all is said and done.
when he gets a lover (or a darling), however, that all changes. it becomes harder and harder to ignore. he's rather respectful, though, never calling attention to his burning desire. but there is a point where he simply cannot repress himself any longer. perhaps your touches linger far too long on his skin, or you wear something particularly distracting and revealing, or maybe you catch on to his repression and tease him; no matter the clause, he cannot help but confess just how badly he needs you.
neuvillette is perhaps the softest dom in the world. in general, as a rather authoritative man who likes order and adherence to rules and regulations, he does prefer to maintain that authority over you in the bedroom, managing to both domineer and dote over you at the same time. you see, the thing that he desires most is to take care of you, to pleasure you properly. he wants you to feel not only loved, but attended to. so when he puts some rules in place and orders you around, please understand that it's to best optimize your pleasure.
he's both unbelievably gentle, with the softest touch and the most loving and strict, ordering you to let him take care of you. often times your hands are tied back during your moments of intimacy, typically with the most luxurious silk ribbon he could find. he doesn't want you touching yourself, not when he's the one taking care of you. even though the ribbon would be relatively easy to untie by yourself (as by design), to forfeit your ability to use your hands to him turns him on. he likes the vulnerability of it most, the fact that you trust him enough to confide in him in that manner.
the things he finds that turns him in the most is your dutiful obedience to letting him pleasure you. like for example, he likes to press a gentle thumb against your lips while asking you to open for him just before sliding a few digits down your mouth, just to see how well you take him. he likes the look in your eyes as you look up at him almost more than the gesture itself. you're so vulnerable, with big puppy dog eyes that tell him you're at his mercy, all for him.
I don't believe that he would like 'brats,' exactly. to me, neuvillette simply just wants to take care of you, and if you're demonstrating any sort of defiance or similar behavior, he'll simply just assume that you do not want his advances. he's not a fan of being teased either, but he does like to go nice and slow, which might accidentally be teasing for you. he likes to traverse your body with his hands, running them against your waist and up and down your thighs, palming at your heat or pressing his thigh up against it as he devours you with long drawn out kisses.
another thing you'll come to realize is that if he can, he likes to take his time with you. he likes to pump himself inside of you nice and slow on his long and heavy cock, dragging out each and every thrust so that you could properly feel all of him, and him all of you. if he's not preoccupied with giving you sweet love bites across your neck and chest, or entangling his tongue with yours, he likes to have you watch the way slides in and out of you. "do you see that, my love? look at how you're taking me, you're doing so well."
"my love, you're taking me so well. I could have never imagined, ah, how wonderful you'd feel wrapped around me."
"that's it, beloved. give in to me just like that. let me take care of you like you deserve."
——— afab + fem presenting specific ———
yes, he's extremely giving, but that's not to say he's entirely selfless in bed. as a dragon, he has quite the bit of libido and stamina, especially when he gets into his ruts. of course, he'd never push your limits, and he'd be much more than satisfied with going just one round, if that is all that you desire. in truth, however, he needs to pump you full a couple times over before he feels truly fulfilled. if it's not spilling out of your pretty cunt and into your thighs, then that means he hasn't done a good job yet. and don't worry, you wouldn't have to do a single thing. just lay down and sit pretty and let him do all the work. neuvillette will take good care of you.
he's at least polite when he asks to cum inside. "oh, darling, may I please release inside of you?"
"just one more, yes? I need to make sure you're nice and full."
my final thought... is that neuvillette would be extremely into dollification. his need to make sure you're well taken care of runs deeper than what you just see on the surface. if you're willing, neuvillette would love nothing more than to take charge over you. he'd love to run you baths and dress you up in frilly dresses and soft lace and give you massages and all of the things of that nature. he'd love to nurture you. so it should come as no surprise that if you were to show up on his lap all pretty and pliant in something sheer or clad in babydoll lingerie, he all but goes inside.
sometimes, he likes to let you cock warm him as he work, filling you up with a promise to attend to you once he finishes is up. the most teasing he perhaps gets is when he stills your hips and tells you to stop moving, that he'll take care of you after he's done with his work, and that he'll only make you feel good if you're patient. other times he forgoes his important work to properly take you, bending you over his desk and asking you if you decided to look so pretty just for him. yeaaaahhh.
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This is my first time writing for jonkler and he's still difficult for me to get a grip on but I tried my best, I like him best when he's kind of campy but very much an evil bastard. I do tag him as yandere but this is very early stage for him
TW: noncon, fem described reader (sorry fellas there will be a next time), dollification, objectification, captivity, psychological torture (it's not written intensely)
You were normal, and then you weren't. It's as simple as that.
I'd give the usual spiel of how you liked your eggs, how you left tips no matter the state of the diner, took care not to travel a rat trap of a city like Gotham after dusk, except that's a little redundant. You know your history as well as I do no matter how hard strings are yanked to make you forget. A few things have successfully slipped. The street name of your old address. That old high school locker combo, too. What color the door to your last apartment was.
These little proofs that the dam is vincible, you try to ignore them. Like they say, it starts as a trickle. Whatever 'it' is.
Truthfully there's no question as to what 'it' is. The three letter M word isn't welcomed in this black domain, as the acknowledgement alone is the same as inviting it to bed. Same as strengthening it. Teasing it closer.
To dwell on it so long summons the word anyway; mad.
We're all mad. I'm mad, you're mad--
Christ, cut the quotes.
How could you, though? When passages are all you're given to sustain your dried up mind? Words inside it skip along mental keys so much you'd shape the fuzzy outline using your eyes in the dark, seeing them as if they were cubes above your head.
This won't be the end. It can't be. You won't take the emergency exit to this insanity before the world has a chance to reach out and help.
"Oh, dolly, dearest! Papa's home!"
Relief exhales across your arms, your legs, the mouth it exits torn apart to a smile.
That release is not for him. You refuse a single good feeling from him. Nothing inside you is for his taking-- he can keep the shell if he wants. Write his name on it. It's packaging is all it is, he doesn't get your guts and your secrets and your life. That history book is all yours. There's not a thing he could do to rip the true self out of your body.
Even if it gets lonely to keep true to yourself; you're smart. You know better than to warm yourself by a wildfire.
"Ah phooey, where'd I put you this time? Marco!"
Ambience whole and true settles long enough you can hear your breaths despite how shallow you consciously hold them.
He giggles. Or it's a cough. You can taste the smile in his voice. If he heard you he gave no warning.
"Good, good job! Have to admit, I really thought you'd fall for that one, ha!" He's wearing his gloves again. That latex clap to punctuate his thinking tells you everything. Fuck, fuck-- maybe he'll skip the check-up. He'll forget. "... enough with the simon says now, really, where'd I set you off too...?"
You fall back on memories so distant they dissipate beneath you to settle your clenching chest. No panic, no sign of thought, nothing at all, you must be nothing on the outside. So save yourself and think of something other than the rubber squelch to his fingers rifling through the room or warehouse or wherever else you've been moved this time.
Outside the dark pit you lie amongst is a squeak. Prattling, like tin cans on the floor. Papers flying off their desks. Pens crash to the wall. A whole table slams to the shared wall against your casing rattling you inside it. He swears, the word so sharp you'd cross your heart that you felt the spit flecks on your cheek.
It all stops. There's a crack of light reaching through the casing. A sliver of life.
Inside you want to crawl for it knowing full well it's a mere desk lamp. Sunlight doesn't follow the Clown Prince, still, does that mean it must give up on you, too?
Your eyes fall shut and your body stills. Think of the words to change you, to make you empty. If you do, remember, there'll be nothing left for him to take.
"Oh dolly!" He gasps. How happy he sounds-- it's not pure. More like he's touching himself. "There you are! Let's get you out of this stuffy old shoebox before the moths get to my sweet."
With all his might does he take hold either side the shudder, dislodging the blockade over your crypt in long, heavy drags. He'd grunt. Light would fall over you, warm. Another pull, and the polish wares that little bit, groaning across the full length of your figure until your pretty head and your pretty socks peak out for viewing pleasure.
It's good you've closed your eyes. The sudden bright won't make you move to shield yourself.
"You're as darling as I last saw you. Not a hair out of place. Buttons all done up. Why, you haven't even crimped your lace. I ought to give you a gold star."
You lie stark still in that coffin.
"Ah... nevermind. Save for one thing..."
His hands you always expect to feel cold. Pale as he is he must be freezing.
He's warm as a lap clasping the back of your neck gentle, lifting, flopping your skull back into your satin stuffed pillow. A modified casket that anyone but yourself can open.
"Eyes up."
Like your namesake, you let your eyes fall open drinking in only what's ahead of yourself. Him. His face. How his frown that cuts through you in sober fear splits open to a smile.
"Precious thing, there she is. And you've behaved yourself well? No mumbling to Harls? You know dolls can't speak, right?"
That hand around your neck shakes. Now and only now are you allowed to respond in little blinks. Look away if you mean no. Look toward him if yes.
You give him the answer he likes and he drops you flat, hopping up to sit square on your lap. He's not fat but he's no flower either. Naturally your body jolts.
He jabs a gloved finger quick and so close it might poke out your eye.
"Dollies don't move. Ever." He sighs, truly disappointed in you, crossing his legs. His one hand rests flat on your belly to lean in above you. He's rotting petunias. A faint sweetness in a warm breath.
"You know, you've had your hiccups, but all in all you're committed to the bit little dolly. I mean, even I forget there's a brain in there if I don't check."
He taps a languid finger on your forehead. It knocks back.
"I say... it kills the fun, doesn't it? To be so serious. So drab! I think even dear old Batsy and his merry band of birdies won't get the joke... it's not a good joke if you have to explain it after all. They'll just think you're a doll made of plastic."
His heavy hips roll along your lap, mushing the ruffles of your massive skirts piled to ruffled clouds up to your knees, knees lipped in cotton white socks fitted by angels, the soft pad of your toes poking at the edges suggesting soft flesh through the mesh. Plumpy skin on a body so still it begs to be swallowed.
That's what he sees. What his finger leads across from your chest tight in a bodice, testing its give. Looping the ties across your waist in his long fingers and tugging to lift you up the one second, and watch you plop back to place once he let go. Your hair wisps away like it's in water, curling to your lips, your eyes, like reaching hands.
"No, no... this whole idea needed someone else to work. You hear that? You're overqualified, dolly."
This whole plan. The weeks or months you spent in chairs combed and plucked and polished, laying still in the dark, your limbs tugged along as an action figure in his imagined face-off with the Bat-- he's just. Giving up on it all? He's fucking shelving you?
Across, your hips creak, your skirts twirling up when he drags himself fully over you. His hands at your shoulders. Fluorescent hair a mess on his head.
"In fact. If I dropped you in front of the Bat, I think he'd want you in a glass case on his wall... And I do so hate having my things stolen."
Cavalry won't come. He takes a hammer to the core of your resolve in one lay of the hand at your cheek.
"I'll just keep you!" He cheers bright. "Doesn't that sound good, dolly? No nasty Robin's to put their grubby hands on you? I certainly wouldn't trust Dickyboy around you. I think he's got a thing for damsels in distress."
You can't feel your breaths. They remain shallow as hard as your chest swells into itself. This is it. The death grip on history was for nothing.
He sees it in your eyes. How your pupils shrink under the terrible gift of knowing. My oh my do you stir up this madness in him. A rare, drooling madness older than dirt.
Where he's sat upon your lap, he looks beneath. Your petticoats' all ruffled to hell and back.
He can see the lace he's done you up in under there. Your pretty bloomers soft as cotton candy. Fluffy like it, too.
"Now. Let's get your check-up in order." Behind him he won't see how your toes curl. It's all you can do to scream when he yanks that glove to a sharp snap. "See if you've rubbed off my signature with all your wiggling..."
His name, written under your skirts, your petticoats. His name scribbled in ink below your navel where his gloves will stain in the sweet waters he'll call from you with nothing but a luring finger.
You don't want to go among mad people. You haven't much of a choice.
warning : smut (mdni), dollification, age gap, sugar daddy!gyu, implied mody modification, praising kink, oral (fem), intern!reader & not proofread
a/n : first of all, idek much about dollification so pls forgive me if this doesn't look like what you imagined cos most of this is according to Google wasjksksksksmsms 😭🙏💔 anyway, ill add you to my anon list then, darling, muach 🤍
Choi Beomgyu—a self-made millionaire and up-and-coming businessman despite his young age. Starting from the bottom as a broke college student who lived from paycheck to paycheck from his part-time job, he was able to climb up to the top twenty of richest people in Seoul.
Handsome face, silver tongue and promising future. Those three were the main reasons why he always stood under the spotlight, having numerous people from different backgrounds and motives surrounding him like bees, chasing after the sweetest nectar they could suckle on. It's not like he didn't know who he should take as a friend or foe, Beomgyu was a smart man—he wouldn't let anyone take advantage of him before he could do it first.
But, you.
There was a different air around you, despite him finding his past self inside. Maybe it was because you didn't curse at your parents for not giving you a life everyone wishes for or because you could blend in with other employees despite your position as an intern, something he wish he could do years ago.
But, then again, if he did that, he might not able to achieve life of luxury he was living in now.
But, then again, he couldn't help but find himself getting attracted to the new intern—who were currently sleeping on his chest peacefully, unaware of the motive he had once he got his hand on you.
"So pretty..." He whispered under his breath, playing with your silky hair and inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo—reminding him of the sweet smell of summer fruits that sold at the market and the salty sweet taste of salted caramel ice cream he craved whenever it got too hot for him.
You were a pretty girl, that was something even him couldn't ignore. But, there was this slightly off feeling whenever he looked at you, something that encouraged him to mold you into someone who would grab everyone's attention whenever they saw your delicate figure in his arm, dressed in the most expensive dress he could find and buy with money.
"My pretty girl," he took your hand in his bigger one, remembering that it was almost as big as his when you both first met and thanks to his connection and money, he could afford some surgeries to turn you into his dream girl.
Noticing you squirming slightly, he looked down and found big, doe-like eyes looking at him with nothing but pure curiosity and adoration—making his heart skipped a beat before wrapping his strong arms around your small waist. "Sorry, did I wake you up, little one?" You shook your head at his question, burying your face into the soft lock of wolf cut he had and tracing your fingers over his bare chest.
"Fuck, pretty girl," he gasped, pushing you underneath him and trapping you between his arms while flashing a half-smirk at you, looking down at the soft pastel babydoll dress he personally chose for you to wear whenever spending a night with him. "And I thought you won't act up if I didn't pay you any attention for five minutes," a deep chuckle escaped from his lips, hair covering most of your sight and leaving his face as the only thing in your eyes.
Beomgyu wasn't a gentle man, but he wasn't exactly rough either. His touch lingering and always left burning sensation once it left your skin, reminding you that you were his only, his personal doll that he molded based on his taste.
Digging his nails into your hips, you looked down and found how vulgar his current look was—dipping his head between your legs and sucking your clit, running his warm tongue along your slit before giving it a shallow thrust. "Taste so sweet, hmm," he looked up, staring at your glossy eyes and luscious lips, letting out soft whimpers and pleading mewls whenever you were close.
"Patience, darling," he gave your thigh a slight slap before positioning himself between your thighs, pressing your legs against your chest and giving you time to adjust his size.
"Don't want to see me angry, yes? You know a doll should always keep quiet and take whatever is given to her, hmm?" He smiled, knowing so damn well you wouldn't reply to him—taking your role as his obedient little doll seriously.
he sought and found her hiding among your features
—
+ word c. 649
+ warnings. dollification (but not really bc you are allowed to move), tenjiku arc spoilers, vag penetration, feminine pet names, angst
you used to fight the tears as soon as he started murmuring her name, failing and letting them stream down your face while he wiped them away.
“please, don’t cry. did i say something wrong?”
and then you made the mistake of answering his question, as if it had been directed at you in the first place—what a fool you had been.
“i told you not to speak,” his eyes hardened within a second, breaking the little fantasy of his as soon as he heard your voice and not the one that haunted his mind.
but you became immune to it along the way.
he talked to you about personal things and inside jokes, mentioning names and places you didn’t know. however, what you did know was how to make him happy, a small smile and adoration in your eyes were enough to have him at your feet. there wasn’t a day where he didn’t spoil you (her), even if you didn’t like that specific colour, he said that it was your favourite; so you quickly apologized and changed your mind.
on purpose or not, your heart longed for him. and knowing he could replace you whenever he wanted, you tried to play the part as best as you could.
his touch was gentle, like air caressing your cheeks, he held your chin between his fingers with an elegance you admired and turned it to the side so he could kiss your neck.
“sorry for taking so long,” he trailed upwards and kissed your cheek, smiling against your skin when he felt you shiver, “i won’t leave you alone again.”
he wanted to hear the voice he loved so much, to listen to the joyful laugh he still remembered. there were days where he caught himself panicking as he struggled to remember the features he had spent so long memorizing, vanishing without a warning, and torturing him until he came home. those were the days where he held you closer, staring at your face as he gave you the pleasure and love he wished he could’ve given you (her) all those years ago.
carefully, he removed layer after layer of clothing from you, manipulating your body as if it were crystal. seeing you bare was a sight he would never get tired of. his lips descended, kissing each beauty mark, each pore until they reached your chest.
“you’re perfect.”
you could’ve cummed at his words alone, your throat closing up as a sob threatened to slip past your lips. even if he wanted you silent, he encouraged you to touch him; as long as you always let him be in charge, to take care of you.
his teeth grazed your nipple and you arched your back, kneading your fingers through his long hair before pulling him closer. the warmth of his mouth enveloped the sensitive bud, flicking his tongue before switching to the other one. he stayed in that position for a while, your body underneath his while you combed his hair and enjoyed the attention.
wordlessly, his kisses began to move down to your navel, his hands gripping your inner thighs and opening them so he could stare at your cunt.
“made my princess wet, yeah?” his tongue ran over his lips as he saw the poor job your panties made at covering your folds. instinctively, you covered your eyes with your forearm, becoming flustered at his words, “c’mon love, don’t hide. let me spoil you.”
too aroused to pay attention to your surroundings, you allowed him to do with you and your body as he pleased. his length touched your cunt and you bucked your hips forward, earning an amused laugh and a kiss on the nose.
the love in his eyes was raw and made your chest tighten painfully, and with a relieved sigh, he finally slid inside with her memory fresh in his mind.
