#i just had to bring it up because i thought about it and its so funny to me

[tonycries]

Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.

Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?

Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)

A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.

You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now. 

And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be. 

We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…

What? 

No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.

You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”

Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird. 

Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer. 

You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street. 

Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.

You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.

Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-

“Oh? Still open?”

“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing. 

And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?

“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”

“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”

You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”

Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”

Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”

“Congratulations, Mr…”

“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.” 

You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”

“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”

What?

You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”

“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”

There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”

Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”

Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”

“...you do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”

“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”

And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation. 

“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”

That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?” 

And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?” 

You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”

---

And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from. 

“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”

“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.

You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”

Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.” 

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now. 

“Alright. Plan B, then.” 

Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”

Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”

At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”

“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”

“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”

It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you? 

“Fine.”

The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”

And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”

He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.

Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner. 

And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head. 

You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.” 

“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”

“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly. 

“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”

Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”

With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house. 

“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins. 

Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”

You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app. 

“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”

That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.

“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”

It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo. 

“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”

Your home, for the next month. At least. 

And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in. 

“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner. 

“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in. 

“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”

It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual. 

“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed. 

Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”

And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.

“Ichiji.”

“Yes, young master.”

“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”

“Of course, young master.”

---

Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside. 

Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.

Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…

“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”

Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you. 

Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”

“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”

He…didn’t sound like he was joking. 

Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”

At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”

“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”

He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”

“For the divorce.”

And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.

You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner. 

“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”

And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit. 

You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you. 

But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.

The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”

Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”

“Only for you.”

Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.

Stammering out, “Corny.”

“Only for-”

“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders. 

Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now. 

Gathered here - for you. 

Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them. 

“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”

My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”

It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.

He wins.

“Congratulations. Let us begin now.” 

You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.

It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.

Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second. 

Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”

You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”

“A waitress, she said?”

“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”

“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”

The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”

“Mother, be quiet or-”

“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”

Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane. 

Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”

Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”

“I understand.”

“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”

“My wife and I are leav-”

“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.” 

Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.

His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”

Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily. 

“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”

Thud!

It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up. 

“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru. 

He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold. 

“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”

You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”

What the fuck happened?

He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to. 

Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.

“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list. 

“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”

You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”

That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.

---

“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain. 

The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands. 

You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”

He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.

“It’ll be alright.” you nod. 

And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.

---

Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight. 

The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting. 

But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it. 

“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.

Something else also happened - something different.

Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”

“You wish.”

“Maybe I do.”

Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-

“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”

Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”

The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.” 

“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~” 

You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”

And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.” 

Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger. 

Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong. 

Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours. 

“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”

Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table. 

Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before. 

“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”

Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.

 Were you going insane?

Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”

“Thinking of me?”

Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today. 

“Satoru?”

His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic. 

Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.

Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”

A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”

Run away. Run away. Run away-

There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.” 

“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.” 

You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”

“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”

“So go with me instead.”

“What if-”

“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave. 

Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”

And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.  

It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-

And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips. 

“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.

“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”

He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach. 

“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it. 

“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”

He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were. 

But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.” 

And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”

“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.

“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.” 

Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”

You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.

“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”

Rip! 

The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically. 

Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”

“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”

“You’re awful.”

“And yet you married me.”

With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”

He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”

You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub. 

Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you. 

“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.

“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard.  “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”

You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now. 

And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?

Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-

“Sh-shit. Toru-”

“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”

“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.” 

He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-

“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please. 

“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”

“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”

“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”

One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him. 

“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-”  You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.

And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want. 

Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue. 

“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”

You weren’t going to make it out alive.

Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”

And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear. 

“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time. 

“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself. 

And he sees right through you.

“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”

You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now. 

Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.

“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s���too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all. 

And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.

“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”

You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back. 

Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.” 

“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard. 

You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.

And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything. 

“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”

You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”

“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”

“All yours, Toru.”

And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.

With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot. 

“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”

Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock  like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.

And exactly where you wanted to be. 

You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much. 

“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy. 

“Close?” 

“Mhm…”

“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”

And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.

Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.

And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper. 

You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now. 

And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him. 

Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”

“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”

Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”

“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #tonywrites

[delulujuls]

young, dumb & bwoke | ln4

hi! as u can see i couldn't stop myself from writing about last saturday events in amsterdam with mr norris as main star (he was more popular than the king himself lmao). lando is literally what i always bring to the function and yup, enjoy him being the chaotic drunk bestie while max and y/n are his literal party parents. its nothing crazy and without plot basically, i just added sum to this years' koningsdag so yeah, enjoy!

summary: there is nothing that lando loves more than a good party and his beloved dutch friends so imagine him with drink in his cup surrounded by whole orange nation. it could be nuts and it was

warnings: TONS of alcohol, lando being drunk (and hurted), mentions of blood, basically sum chaos

pairing: fem!dutch!bff!reader x lando norris (ft. max verstappen)

Lando couldn't wait for the plane he was on to break through the heavy cloud cover and land in Amsterdam.

China and Miami, which were the next rounds on the calendar, were separated by two weeks that were nothing else, in Lando's case, than a time of stagnation. Add to this the fact that Lando had bad memories of his performance in China and, what's worse, the sprint he failed so badly and which constantly played in his head like a jammed record, one could go crazy. That's why the Brit was extremely happy when he received an invitation to spend the weekend in the capital of the Netherlands. He was invited to Amsterdam to celebrate King Willem's birthday by none other than his favorite flying Dutch.

The friendship of Y/N, Max and Lando began in 2019, practically from the very moment he entered Formula 1. The kid, who was barely 20 years old but looked like 12, immediately won over the Dutch couple with his smile and sense of humor, who, due to their sometimes severe temperament, could not boast of having many friends in the paddock. Even though the three friends were only two years apart, Max and Y/N naturally became Lando's racing parents, with whom the Brit spent practically every moment, from time in the paddock, through celebrating on the podium, to time away from competitions. So it was no surprise when they invited him to spend the weekend together, to which he, of course, eagerly agreed.

When the plane landed, Lando pulled the hood of his orange sweatshirt over his head and slung his backpack over his shoulder, in which he packed everything he might need for the coming days. As you could guess, there wasn't much of it, he actually had everything he needed on him and the most important part was an oversized orange sweatshirt. Waiting for him at the airport was Y/N, who couldn't wait to see him. She didn't have to wait too long, because a moment later he walked out in front of the terminal. Y/N smiled as she saw her friend walking towards her and she hugged him tightly.

"You knew I was coming, you could have asked the king for better weather," Lando joked, trying to sound serious, which only made the girl giggle.

"If you think that the weather will have any influence on what will happen in the evening, then unfortunately I will have to disappoint you," she replied, getting into the car. "It's already starting to get crowded in downtown, and it's not even noon."

Lando threw his backpack into the backseat and got into the passenger side. He smiled like a child, looking forward to how the weekend would unfold. It looked like he would spend a nice few days, able to finally de-stress and relax, and in the company of friends. But speaking of friends, one of them was missing.

"And where's Max?" he asked as they left the airport and were on their way to the girl's apartment. "I thought he had been waiting for me with the welcome committee since yesterday."

"He's already in town, I dropped him off while I was on my way to pick you up."

"He's fast," Lando laughed and shook his head, "I hope he's still on his feet when we get to him."

At that moment, Lando didn't think about the fact that no one else but himself would be able to stay on his feet. When the Brit set off for Amsterdam, he obviously expected to spend two days drunk, with legs sore from dancing and a sore throat from singing, but he forgot that he has absolutely no immunity to alcohol.

When the three friends were finally together, alcohol quickly appeared in their hands. Y/N and Max started with beer, but Lando had no intention of wasting his time drinking something that would only cause pressure on his bladder. As soon as he boarded one of the barges floating on the Herenbracht Canal, he drank several shots at once. Y/N and Max just exchanged glances as he drank the drink standing on Garrix's console in one gulp, who didn't care one bit about it, being already in a good mood himself.

"I'm a little worried about how this might end," Max said in her ear as she took a sip of her cider, watching Lando jump happily.

"Even if he's drunk, so what," she replied, handing him her bottle and taking away the body paints in circulation, "He didn't come here to be bored."

Max was about to say something, but she pushed his hand slightly, bringing the bottle he was holding to his lips. Max shook his head and took a few sips from it, while the girl started painting flags on his cheeks. When she finished, she waved them up, attracting Lando's attention, who understood what she meant and nodded eagerly. The girl squeezed through the console and stood next to him, leaning him against the barge rails, because Lando had trouble not bobbing to the music for a moment.

The smile that never left his face wrinkled his cheeks, on which she tried to paint Dutch flags. When she finished and turned to pass the paints, Lando took off her sunglasses and put them on himself.

"Have a drink with me!" Lando shouted, holding out his empty cup to her, and she raised her cider bottle in response. He rolled his eyes in dissatisfaction when suddenly a bottle of vodka appeared in the crowd and someone handed it straight to his hands. Without much thought, Lando unscrewed the cap and took a few sips as if the contents were water, which of course met with the crowd's approval.

Y/N took the bottle from his hands, fearing not the amount Lando drank, but the relatively short time it took him to do so. However, not wanting to seem boring, she tilted the bottle herself, letting the liquid burn her throat. Delighted, Lando clapped his hands and hugged his friend, causing some of the alcohol to flow down her chin. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his waist as well, and raised her hand in a toast, which was joined by everyone who had something to drink.

Max also raised his beer bottle a bit. However, somewhere in the background of his mind there was an image of Lando and what he would look like in the near future. However, the Brit himself did not care at all about this. As long as he was in the company of his friends, his plastic cup was full and he could jump to the music and sing along, he was happy. Even the fact that his face was in the wrong place at the wrong time, when someone, completely by accident, punched him in the face, didn't disturb it.

Y/N, who also decided to pick up the pace after drinking her cider, immediately sobered up when she saw blood on her friend's face. She quickly pressed a tissue to his nose, but he tried to assure her that he was fine. His brain didn't encode the impact or the pain, didn't acknowledge that he was bleeding, even when he ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood on them. People in the crowd started calling out to each other to see if anyone had a first aid kit. Suddenly, out of nowhere, a bandage appeared, and just as Y/N, being drunk, thought it would be a great idea to wrap Lando's face in a bandage, Max started asking people if they somehow had band aids. He couldn't let that dumbass parade around like that for the rest of the evening.

“I've sobered up a bit, I can keep drinking,” he said as Y/N finished clumsily bandaging his face, “I probably look worse that i did when i crashed in Vegas.”

Her friend tried to be serious, but it was impossible to stay serious around Lando. "You have to be careful, Lan," she said, trying to retain some sanity and touching his cheek, looking into his eyes, "I hope it's not broken."

"Bwoken," he repeated in silly voice, giggling "Oh no, it couldn't be bwoken"

"Honestly, i also hope it is not," Max interjected when he managed to rejoin his friends after some time, "Getting to the hospital now would be a near miracle."

"Hey, I'm fine," he said as Max waved the Band-Aids in his face and began to remove the clumsy bandage into which their friend had probably poured her whole heart and a few drinks that she drank earlier.

"I'm glad you don't feel anything, but that doesn't change the fact that I won't look at it," he replied, lifting his chin and examining his nose from every angle. Luckily this one seemed fine.

Once Max had placed two tiny patches on him, Y/N handed him his mug with a fresh drink again. "Brave patient," she smiled at him.

"In a state like this, I'd be surprised if he felt something," Max admitted, taking a bottle of vodka standing nearby. He decided that since Lando had had an accident, nothing worse awaited them and he could allow himself to loosen a bit more. He took a few sips and handed the bottle to the younger one, who smiled, tightening his hand around it. He looked at his friends standing in front of him, slightly drunk but still fully focused on him. He knew he was important to them and that he is not alone in all this madness.

"I love you guys," he said, with a bottle in his hand, pushing himself off the railing and hugging them, "You are the best in the world, simply the best."

The rest of the day and later in the evening took place in a great atmosphere and the party lasted until 3. in the morning. For the rest of Amsterdam it probably lasted longer, but for Lando it began to end after two o'clock, when he was barely able to stand. Partly from being drunk, partly from being tired. He didn't stand still during a single song, so the next day, apart from his face, his legs will certainly be visible. Taking a break for something warm to eat, Max, Y/N, and Lando sat down at one of the wooden tables. While waiting for their orders, Lando rested his head on Y/N's shoulder and closed his eyes. It was obvious that he just needed something to lean on to fall asleep.

"I think it's time for us to go," the girl announced, directing her words to Max. "The baby is only fit for bed now."

"He's been in great shape for a long time anyway, judging by how much he was on his feet today," Max concluded, glancing first at him and then at the girl, "But you're holding up pretty well, aren't you?"

"Yes, I do," she nodded and hugged Lando, who began to slide off her shoulder, "But I'm also getting sleepy."

"Me too," Max rubbed his face with his hands, "At least we can be sure that no one will wake us up first thing in the morning to explore the city."

He said, glancing at Lando, who was dozing with his mouth open on his friend's shoulder. After eating casseroles and fries, which were for Lando and which he was unable to eat, the three of them went to the girl's apartment. Of course, only she and Max were walking on their own, Lando was between them, leaning on their arms. He was muttering something incomprehensible under his breath, so it was obvious that he was alive and everything was fine, besides the fact that he was completely drunk.

When they arrived at the address and crossed the threshold of the apartment, they immediately went to put him in the bedroom, not wasting time in unfolding the couch for him. Max was in the process of stripping him of his shoes, pants, bloody sweatshirt, and all the necklaces and ribbons he had collected the previous day, while Y/N placed a large bottle of water, painkillers, and a bucket by his bed, as if the contents of his stomach had suddenly decided that they wants to get outside. However, there was no indication that Lando was going to have a restless night, because he started snoring softly as soon as his cheek touched the pillow. Max covered him with the blanket and took a few steps away from the bed, standing next to his friend who was looking at the sleeping boy.

"Can you hear that?" Max whispered, glancing at her, and she frowned questioningly, "It's silence, listen to it, because when he gets up, the only thing you can hear will be his lamentations about how hungover he is."

The girl snorted quietly and shook her head, taking Lando's clothes to the laundry.

"The most important thing is that he had a good time. And a little hangover never killed nobody."

The next day, however, did not bring anything unexpected. When Lando woke up, the first thing that hit him was a terrible headache that got worse when he sat down and tried to get out of bed. When he stood in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N and Max's eyes immediately went towards him and Lando could swear that they looked like they spent the entire last evening on the couch.

"Hi honey, did you sleep well?" Max asked playfully, in the perfect mood for jokes since he himself was fine after last night.

Lando just blinked several times and wanted to wipe his face with his hands and collect some words to answer, but when he touched his cut nose, he cursed loudly.

"What the fuck?"

"A souvenir from yesterday," the girl answered him, getting up from the couch and taking out a frozen package from the fridge, which she handed to him, "I recommend a shower and I'll make you some coffee."

He closed his eyes and put the package to his nose, sighing and grabbing the bathroom door handle. Before he disappeared, Max just shouted after him.

"And don't puke in the shower!"

#f1 imagines #f1 #f1 one shot #formula 1 #f1 oneshots #f1 imagine #lando norris #ln4 #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #max verstappen #mv1 #mv33 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you

[joonie-beanie]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

Summary: Iudex Neuvillette has been acting a little...strange, as of late. Worried about him, Sigewinne and Wriothesley come up with a plan to help lessen his load. “I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.” Well, being Neuvillette's assistant for a week shouldn't be that bad. Unless, of course, the reason Neuvillette has been acting strange is due to the fact that he's actually a dragon that has regained his full power, and now, with the return of said power, his body is experiencing things he's never known before now. Because that would be totally crazy...right? Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Rut, fem!reader Word Count: 10.8k Note: this occurs after "Doctor's Orders"

Sigewinne is the first to hear the rumors about Iudex Neuvillette—although Wriothesley isn’t far behind.

The first indication that something might be wrong with the Iudex is brought up in a letter—one penned by Sedene that is delivered to Sigewinne. In the letter, Sedene writes that since Fontaine has overcome its disaster, everything has been going well…except, Neuvillette has been behaving a little…strange.

Sedene does not elaborate on what exactly is wrong, and Sigewinne assumes that’s because she doesn’t know. Melusine have the ability to sense things, but the things they sense aren’t always accompanied with an answer.

And so, Sigewinne writes back telling Sedene to make sure Neuvillette is staying hydrated (since she knows he has been particularly busy as of late), and that she’ll try and make a trip to see him soon, when she has the time.

The following day, a new batch of wrongdoers arrive in the prison, and along with them—some speculations about Fontaine’s supreme judge.

“I think I deserve a retrial,” one of the men says, clearly frustrated. “I stated my case, but then Iudex Neuvillette actually blanked, and had to ask me to repeat myself! After I said everything so eloquently! That’s why I’m down here, man. I was so surprised by it that when I said my argument again, I sounded lame…this sucks.”

Listening from behind a nearby pillar, Wriothesley frowns to himself. 

Neuvillette getting distracted in court? Well, that’s certainly a first—and a worrying first, at that.

Before the day’s end, Wriothesley and Sigewinne seek each other out. Equally concerned about what they’ve been hearing, they spend the evening coming up with a plan. Something they might be able to do to help Neuvillette.

The next morning, you wake up and get ready—prepared to go and spend a few days below ground in the Fortress…only to find Wriothesley on your doorstep.

“Hi,” he says with a smile when you pull your front door open.

Your eyes go wide, and you glance either way down the street, wondering if you’re being pranked. 

When nothing seems suspicious, you reach out and touch Wriothesley’s chest to make sure he’s real.

He immediately rolls his eyes and snatches your hand, bringing it to his lips.

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

“Good—but, why are you here?” you ask. 

Not that he isn’t welcome at your apartment, but…you just didn’t expect to see him here. On the surface. At your place of residence.

“Am I late or something? I thought we scheduled for me to come back to the Fortress today.”

“No, you are not late,” he reassures you. He gives your hand a little squeeze before allowing you to have it back.

“There’s been…a little change in your schedule.”

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

Does he want you to stay on the surface a few more days before coming back down? Considering he’s here, maybe he’s got some business on the surface, which would mean there’s no point in you going to the Fortress right now.

Wriothesley’s smile grows—little crow's feet appearing at the corner of his eyes.

“I’m lending you to Neuvillette for the week.”

…

Huh?

“Here.”

Wriothesley grabs your bag—the one slung over your arm and packed with items that should have tied you over while you stayed in the Fortress—and tosses it back into your apartment.

Then, he gently grabs your waist, pulls you out onto the street, and closes the door to your apartment behind you. He checks the door to make sure it’s locked, and when he finds that it is, he nods in satisfaction.

“C’mon, keep up,” he says, starting up the street. His boots are heavy against the pavement.

Blinking, you finally snap out of it and jog to catch up with him.

“Hold on, you—you’re lending me to Iudex Neuvillette?”

You’ve never known the man to have an assistant, and from what you’ve heard from Wriothesley and others, he tends to prefer working alone. Aside from that, he’s very skilled at his job, and typically doesn’t need help—even with the never ending case load.

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

The two of you turn a corner, heading towards an elevator that will take you up towards the Palais Mermonia. You narrow your eyes at Wriothesley. He waves you off.

“Sigewinne and I both heard that he seems a little…stressed lately. And we decided the best thing we could do right now, aside from giving him our support, would be lending him you. So, assuming he is in need of help, I don’t see why he would turn our offer down, considering how proficient you are.”

“While I appreciate the praise, I think you’re underestimating the pride of men,” you tell him, standing at his side as the two of you arrive at the elevator. Wriothesley hits the button to summon it to your floor.

“Hey, when I got busier than usual, I hired you,” he points out. You cock an eyebrow at him.

“I’m 99% sure the only reason you hired me was due to Sigewinne's influence. I bet she saw your stress growing and bugged you to get an assistant until you finally gave in.”

Wriothesley sighs.

“Sometimes I wish you weren’t so smart.”

You grin, holding your head high.

Finally, the elevator arrives on your floor. When the door opens, Wriothesley motions for you to board first. Then, he follows you on.

“So, let’s say Sigewinne did insist I hire an assistant. The result of doing so was positive. My work got easier, and my life improved. If we present that logic to Neuvillette, there’s no reason he should decline our help. Plus, he tends to listen to Sigewinne.”

You sigh, watching the city outside the glass doors of the elevator. You’re nearly to the floor the Palais Mermonia is on.

“If Neuvillette agrees that he wants the help, I have no issue being his assistant for the week.”

Wriothesley catches your silent drift of “you get the pleasure of trying to convince him to accept help, though”. 

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

“Sigewinne and I appreciate your cooperation,” he tells you sincerely.

Arriving on your floor, the elevator doors open, and you step out first—standing aside to allow Wriothesley to walk past you and lead the way. A few gazes are thrown your way as you go—people surprised to see the Duke of the Fortress above ground for once—but Wriothesley doesn’t react, so neither do you.

Sticking by his side, you follow him up the steps and through the front door of the building. 

“Duke Wriothesley,” Sedene greets as you near the doors of Neuvillette’s office. She runs up to the two of you, her eyes somewhat nervously shifting towards the office doors.

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

She wants to say that he’s not accepting visitors at the moment, but she can’t get the words out—obviously worried about him. Wriothesley flashes her a kind smile.

“Sigewinne sent us,” he tells her, relief immediately appearing on her face at his words. “Is Neuvillette in?”

“Yes, he is in,” she confirms, and then scuttles back over to her desk, only to return a moment later with a tray of tea (or, teacups and water?) in her hands. 

“Take this when you go in, that should help.”

“I appreciate that,” Wriothesley responds. You reach down to take the tray from her hands, quietly thanking her as well. She flashes you a smile, gives you a thumbs up, and then goes back to work.

You and Wriothesley glance at each other. Seeing you’re ready, he raps his knuckles on the door thrice, and enters the room when Neuvillette’s muffled and somewhat reluctant “come in” is heard from beyond the door.

Gripping the handle, Wriothesley pushes his way inside. You dutifully follow after him.

Once in the office—the door shutting softly behind you—you quickly realize that perhaps something is wrong with the Iudex. Because for a man known for his neatness, and professionalism, his office is quite…untidy, at the moment. 

Papers are scattered along his desk—piles uneven, and threatening to fall. And on the coffee table nearby, there are multiple cups, along with empty bottles of imported water. Not to mention books that are strewed around—some even on the floor.

Wriothesley takes quick stock of the state of the office before his gaze settles on Neuvillette, who is sitting at his desk. He's wearing his normal robes, and yet he looks…strangely disheveled. Perhaps it's the faint dark circles under his eyes, or the way his hair looks less kept than usual?

“I thought I instructed that there were to be no—oh, Wriothesley.”

Neuvillette's tone of measured annoyance softens the second he looks up and sees who it actually is that has entered his office. Then, he sighs, feeling ashamed of his initial attitude.

“I apologize. Did you request a meeting? I don't recall getting any correspondence about it, unless it was accidentally left off my calendar.”

“No need for apologies, Monsieur Neuvillette. I am the one who should be apologizing, as I did not reach out beforehand to let anyone know that I was coming.”

Wriothesley bows in slight apology, and you mirror him, figuring it's the right thing to do since you're technically also intruding.

“I know you're very busy, so I'll cut right to the chase to save us both time. Sigewinne and I are concerned about you, since we've both heard from multiple sources that you seem a little out of sorts as of late. So, in an attempt to help lessen your load, I'd like to offer you my assistant, Y/N, for the week.”

For the first time since you'd entered with Wriothesley, Neuvillette’s sharp eyes slide to you. You force a polite smile to your lips and—remembering the tray in your hands—move to set it on the nearby table.

Quickly filling one of the glasses with the water, you stride over to Neuvillette’s desk and offer it to him.

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

“And you as well,” he responds, keeping up formalities.

Taking the glass from your hand, Neuvillette takes a long sip of water, and you scoot back to Wriothesley’s side. Once Neuvillette has finished his drink, he places the glass down on his desk and sighs.

“I assure you that I am alright, and there is no need for concern.”

“I hate to disagree, but based on the state of your office, I can't believe that's true.”

Neuvillette’s gaze slides around his office, as if truly seeing it for the first time in days. His brows pinch together as he realizes Wriothesley is right. He hadn't noticed it'd become so messy…

“I will admit I have been a little…scattered, lately. But it's nothing I cannot handle. Lending me your assistant would only increase the burden of your own workload, which I cannot accept.”

“Actually,” Wriothesley is quick to counter. “I hired Y/N before the disaster, because much of my time was occupied watching the primordial sea gate, and preparing the Wingalet. Now that the disaster has passed, and things have relatively calmed down, my workload has greatly lessened. Meaning, I have no issue temporarily lending her to you.”

Knowing Wriothesley is only willing to give you up temporarily—meaning he'll want you back to himself at some point—makes you happy.

“Be that as it may, I will still have to decline your offer.”

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

“I know since Furina stepped down as the Archon, you've only gotten busier,” Wriothesley tells him, fixing him with a concerned stare. “And because of that, Sigewinne is worried. If you could just accept Y/N's help for the week, I'm sure that would help put her mind at ease.”

The mention of Sigewinne causes Neuvillette to frown, so Wriothesley quickly lays it on thicker.

“I assure you that Y/N has been a great aide to me,” he says, his gaze meeting yours. “Sigewinne recommends her as well. If you allow her to help you for a few days, I have no doubt she’ll be of use to you. So please, Neuvillette.”

Neuvillette places his elbows on his desk and folds his hands together. It takes a few seconds, but eventually, he sighs.

“Fine. If Y/N is okay with this arrangement, I shall accept her help.”

Both men look your way. You smile.

“I’d be more than happy to help with whatever I can.”

Honestly, you hadn’t expected to find yourself here, and aren’t even sure what there is you can do to support him, but considering how tired he looks, you’ll surely try your best.

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

With a happy grin—pleased that he has won the battle—Wriothesley turns to you. He cups the back of your head and drags you in—his lips pressing into your hair.

“I’ll come visit on Saturday to take her back into my care. Best of luck to you both,” he says, heading for the door. He waves his hand at you and Neuvillette over his shoulder, and without saying anything else, exits the office.

You stare at the closed door for a second, before you take a deep breath, plaster on a smile, and turn back to Neuvillette.

…only to find that he’s fixing you with a peculiar stare.

“Are you and Wriothesley seeing each other…?” he asks.

Ah, right, the way Wriothesley had kissed your head before leaving…

“We are not,” you assure him, taking a few steps towards his desk. “Since entering his employment the two of us have just become…fond of each other.”

Which isn’t a lie. You and Wriothesley are quite fond of each other—fond enough that every time you go to stay in the Fortress, you find yourself in his bed at least once (and not just because Sigewinne has instructed Wriothesley to continue having sex to keep his stress levels down). And no, you’re not dating, but that’s fine. You enjoy what you have with him right now, and honestly, it’d be a bad look if anyone found out Wriothesley was dating his assistant anyway.

“I see,” Neuvillette nods, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I apologize for presuming.”

“No need to apologize, Monsieur,” you respond, stepping up beside his desk. You smile at him—softer, and more genuine this time.

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

While it takes a short while for Neuvillette to adjust to the idea of having an assistant to help with things, soon enough, the two of you come to an understanding.

He admits that he has been struggling to juggle court cases and new paperwork that needs to be signed off on now that the judicial system is changing (thanks to recent developments). So, you put forth the idea to allocate time to signing documents, and while you run things where they need to go afterwards, Neuvillette can address any cases on his docket. 

Not having any better idea, he goes with your plan.

While Neuvillette busies himself with signing paperwork, you flit around his office—cleaning up empty bottles and used cups, and putting abandoned books back on the shelves.

By the time you’ve finished organizing (taking your time to make sure everything is put back in its proper place), Neuvillette has finished reviewing his first stack of papers.

“These have all been signed off on,” he says, summoning you to his side. He points at the top right hand corner of the paper. “This area on each document will show you where it needs to be returned.”

“Understood,” you respond, taking the stack from him. You cradle the papers in your arms and leaf through the first few sheets while heading for the door. However, you quickly realize the documents aren’t grouped by which location they need to be dropped at.

So, you make a detour at the coffee table—gently sitting yourself on the sofa as you begin sorting the papers into smaller stacks, grouped by department. Once you’ve done that, you pile them all together again, and continue towards the door—unaware of the way Neuvillette’s lips tug into a smile at your actions.

Delivering documents where they need to go takes up the remainder of your morning, and by the time you’ve finished, your stomach is growling. So—figuring that Neuvillette won’t have stepped away from his desk yet—you decide to pick up something for the both of you.

“You've returned,” he says without looking up from the document in his hand as you step into his office. “I assume everything has been delivered?”

“Yes,” you respond with a nod, his gaze finally rising to look at you as he hears the sound of the bag in your hand, and smells the contents within. “And I grabbed us lunch. I assume you haven’t eaten?”

“I have not,” he confirms. His eyes watch you as you b-line for the coffee table and begin unpacking the take-out food. “I’m not sure what you like, but I figured I’d play it safe and go with soup, since you seem to enjoy…liquids.”

How else are you supposed to describe his taste when all you've seen him consume today is cup after cup of water?

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

Standing from his chair, he makes his way over, staring at the clear broth of the consomme.

“...I think I'm beginning to see why Wriothesley enjoys having you as an assistant.”

“Oh? Sounds like Iudex Neuvillette is becoming fond of me too,” you say—very jokingly. “You may have to fight Wriothesley for me later. Assuming I stay as helpful during the remainder of the week.”

You half expect Neuvillette to say say something about how a fight won’t be necessary, as you're only a temporary loan, and he shouldn't need help beyond this week anyway—but instead, he cracks a smile, grabs his portion of the consomme, and says—

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

—before he returns to his desk and continues working through his lunch.

In the afternoon, Neuvillette remains immersed in paperwork and other documents. You mostly spend your time making sure he has enough water available to drink, and fetching him any books or materials he asks for, so he doesn’t have to step away from his desk and break his concentration.

It’s a dynamic that works, and already, you can tell his stress has lessened—now that he’s caught up on many tasks. However, there’s still the slightest pinch to his brow, and a tiny flush on the skin of his neck despite the fact that it’s not overly hot in his office (at least, in your opinion. But maybe all that hair of his is warm?).

However, you don’t bother overthinking it. It’s still your first day assisting him. It would be crazy to think he’d suddenly be stress-free after a few hours in your care.

When the clock strikes 5, Neuvillette doesn’t miss a beat.

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

“Yes, but that isn’t out of the ordinary,” Neuvillette responds, taking a sip from the glass of water on his desk. “However, your station doesn’t warrant you working overtime. You should go home now and enjoy your evening.”

You suppose he’s right…there are some things you can’t really assist him with anyway. Plus, you still have four more days working under him.

“Alright then, I won’t argue with you,” you respond. You gather up what little things you had brought with you, and then head for the door. But, before you go, you turn back to him.

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

“Understood,” you nod, flashing him a smile. “Then, I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night, Monsieur.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he responds in kind, watching you as you open the door and slip out of his office.

His gaze only lingers on the spot where you stood for a brief moment before he returns to his work.

The next day, you arrive at Neuvillette’s office at the agreed upon time, only to find that he’s getting ready to leave.

“I have some trials at the Opera Epiclese today,” he says. “You are welcome to join me.”

And really, who would pass up that offer?

So, without even setting your things down, you follow Neuvillette out of the building and to the Navia line—boarding an aquabus that will take you to the opera house.

Neuvillette garners a lot of attention as the two of you make your way to the building, but you do your best to tune out any stares or whispers. You think Neuvillette’s popularity among the people will never die.

“I have a guest today,” Neuvillette tells one of the staff members once you’ve entered the main hall. “Please make sure she is given a seat.”

“Of course,” they assure him, to which he nods. His eyes catch yours. 

“I will find you once the trials are over,” he says.

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

“Luck is typically not required,” he tells you. You feel a little heat of embarrassment rise on your skin, but the smile that appears at the corner of Neuvillette’s lips assures you he’s only joking with you. 

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

With that, he turns and heads up a staircase that will lead him upstairs to the judge’s seat.

You follow the staff member into the theater, still feeling a little warm.

As it turns out, Neuvillette has a full docket today. 

From morning to afternoon, you spend your day settled into your seat in the theater—watching prosecutors and defendants present evidence and argue back and forth.The cases draw most of your attention, but your gaze still strays to Neuvillette every so often, just to make sure he’s alright.

And he seems to be…for the most part.

Once or twice, you notice that his eyes are unfocused—staring off into the distance, and not at the person who is speaking. And when a recess is taken for lunch, and Neuvillette finds you to invite you to partake in lunch with him, you notice that the flush on his neck has returned.

Silently, you wonder if he’s getting sick…although you’ve never heard of Iudex Neuvillette being sick before now.

You make sure to send him back up to his stand with an extra bottle of water (which he downs quite quickly. Then, he even motions for one of the nearby employees to bring him more, which…also must be a little strange, considering you see some people in the audience watching Neuvillette, instead of the “show”).

By the time his docket has been cleared, and the two of you take the aquabus back to the city, the work day is over. You and Neuvillette bid each other farewell, and you return home.

Your third day is spent helping Neuvillette finish up paperwork related to the cases from the previous day. 

He remains flushed the entire time—the blush on his neck creeping up to his ears. He also begins sighing heavily every so often, and his requests for water become more frequent—to the point where Sedene, who guards Neuvillette’s stash of imported waters, even gets surprised by how quickly he’s going through them.

However, it’s not until the fourth day—when you see Neuvillette behind his desk, face flushed, sweat beading on his brow, and his official robes discarded due to how hot he is—that you finally have the guts to speak up.

“Monsieur,” you say hesitantly, remaining gentle despite the way his head nearly snaps up to look at you. 

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

Neuvillette frowns at the suggestion, as if that’s impossible, but…after a few seconds, he seems contemplative.

“Would you be able to go to the library and fetch me a book?” he responds without answering your original question. He writes the title down on a piece of paper for you, and you take it—unable to say no.

After a short trip to the library, you recruit the help of the librarian, who points you in the right direction, and—soon enough—you find what Neuvillette has asked for.

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

Dutifully, you take the book back to Neuvillette after checking it out, and he thanks you—setting it off to the side until he has finished what he’s working on. It takes another hour or so, but finally, out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach for the book.

He flips through the pages until he finds the section he’s most interested in, and then he just…reads. For a while.

You keep yourself busy organizing paperwork in the meantime, and don’t pay him much mind. At least, until you hear a crunching sound.

Startled, you glance over at Neuvillette, only to find that his desk is cracked—his hand gripping it so hard that the wood has actually splintered.

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

You’re unable to get more than a word out before his sharp eyes find you—his pupils like daggers.

“Leave,” he repeats, slightly more calm. Although, you swear you can almost hear a rumble in his chest.

Your heart sinks, worry blooming in your chest. Did you do something to upset him?

Seeing how your face twists, Neuvillette takes a deep breath.

“I apologize,” he says, his tone measured. His eyes meet yours for a long beat before he glances away, unable to look at you.

“You’ve done nothing wrong, and I appreciate your help until now, but I will no longer be needing your assistance. Please go home.”

Not understanding why he’s had a sudden change in demeanor, you want to prod him for answers about what’s going on, but…seeing the tenseness of his body, and the way his chest heaves, you decide to listen to his request.

Without further argument, you gather your things and quickly head for the door—only pausing to say one last thing before leaving.

“It was nice working with you, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you tell him, a smile tugging at your lips even though he refuses to look your way. “If you ever need my assistance again, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

The sound of the door shutting behind you is loud in Neuvillette’s ears, and once you’re gone, he finally lets go of his desk—chips of wood sprinkling the floor at his feet.

He attempts to take a deep breath to calm himself—but it has the opposite effect—his jaw clenching as his senses are flooded with the scents in his office, all of which seem more pungent than usual.

Leather book covers, fresh ink, Springvale water, his freshly washed robe, and a fleeting, sweet scent…

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

Then, with shaking fingers, he picks up his pen and grabs a piece of paper.

As he drafts the notice of closure he intends to pass along to Sedene, a thunderstorm begins brewing outside his window.

On the morning of what should have been your fifth and final day in Neuvillette’s care, you wake up and find that you can’t simply let things be. 

You do your best to distract yourself with whatever chores in your apartment need doing, but it doesn’t work. You can’t stop thinking about Neuvillette—the flush on his skin, and the way his eyes had looked when he’d commanded you to leave.

It had all just felt so…out of character. You can’t help but worry about him.

So, despite the thunderstorm that’s been raging outside since you’d returned home the evening before, you decide to go and check on him.

You bundle yourself up in a coat and shoes that won’t be ruined by the rain, and then grab your umbrella—heading out into the storm.

As expected, not many people are out, which makes traversing the streets quite easy. You ride the elevator up to the Palais Mermonia alone, running up the steps and into the building to escape the rain.

In your hurry, you miss the notice that’s been posted on the doors to the building.

Once inside, you close your umbrella and prepare an apology to Sedene for dripping all over the floor, but to your surprise, she’s not at her desk. In fact, there’s not a soul in sight—the lights off, and the hall empty.

You’ve never heard of the Palais Mermonia shutting down before…

You take a step back towards the entrance as lightning illuminates the room—figuring it’s best if you leave. But…

Your gaze strays towards the doors to Neuvillette’s office, and after a beat, your feet begin moving on their own.

Assuming Neuvillette is here (because it’s not hard to imagine him working, even if everyone else is gone), you want to make sure he’s alright. 

So, you grip the handle to his office door, and quietly push your way inside.

A clap of thunder drowns out the sound of the office door clicking closed, and you take a step deeper inside, your eyes peering around the room.

In the darkness, you don't immediately spot anyone.

“Neuvillette?” you call out, just to be sure.

Before his name has finished leaving your lips, a shadow moves. Something rounding Neuvillette’s desk and heading towards you—snake-like eyes shining through the darkness.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you trip over your feet in a panic as you rush to grab the handle of the office door—hoping to throw it open and dart outside before whatever monster you’ve just walked in on is able to get to you.

And really—it has to be a monster. It’s quicker than you—quicker than a normal human—crossing Neuvillette’s office in less than a second.

A scaled hand slams against the door beside your head, and little sound of fear is ripped from your throat. 

You're being prevented from leaving—the door not budging even when you try and discreetly tug at the handle.

Your chest shudders as you take a breath, and you squeeze your eyes shut, fearing the worst.

Even with your back turned, you know there's some sort of beast behind you. One that’s stronger than you. One that will probably end your life before you can beg for mercy— 

“I told you not to return here.”

The sound of Neuvillette’s voice beside your ear causes you to jolt.

He’s so close to you that you can feel his breath on your skin, and while realizing that it’s Neuvillette who is behind you should be a comfort, it’s also…frightening. 

You’re aware—like most Fontainians—that Iudex Neuvillette is not totally human, considering he has been presiding as the chief judge for more than a few centuries now, but…you’ve never seen him act like this.

“I…was worried about you. After yesterday,” you respond, finally finding your voice. 

“I sent you away for a reason.”

His voice is deeper than normal—a rumble vibrating in his chest as he speaks. 

His lips brush the shell of your ear, causing you to shiver. Goosebumps rise on your skin and your heart races faster despite your best efforts to stay calm. 

However, staying calm isn’t easy to do in this situation—especially when Neuvillette literally starts to glow.

The scales on his hand which you’d spotted early begin to softly shine blue in the dim light of the room—his nails curling and carving uneven lines into the wood of the door in front of you.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whisper, your breath hitching when his free arm suddenly curls around you. His forearm rests between your breasts, his palm splaying over your sternum, and you feel him take a deep breath—almost like he’s inhaling your scent.

“I was trying to protect you,” he says, his nose brushing against the skin of your throat. He can feel your pulse raising—your heart thundering in your chest.

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

“Protect me from what, exactly, Monsieur…?”

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

“The way I’ve been acting—the way I’ve been feeling recently—it’s very unusual, and something I’ve never experienced before,” he admits—his warmth bleeding into your back as his body curls around you.

“That’s why I had you retrieve that book for me when you questioned if I was ill. There was a small change in my…constitution, lately. One that only early generations of my kind have experienced. So I wanted to brush up on history, and see if I could find any clues. And I did.”

He takes another long breath, and you hear the wood of the door crunch as his grip tightens.

“Experiencing a lack of focus, increased appetite, increased body temperature, and increased sensitivity to certain scents are all signs of one thing. An impending rut.”

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

“While having an assistant was a nice change, being around you only exacerbated the issue.”

He doubts you’d taken notice with how immersed you’d been in your own tasks this week, but Neuvillette has been watching you. The way you tuck your hair back when you’re reading, the way your ass looks when you bend down to gather papers, the scent of your perfume whenever you approach his desk…

At first, he’d been distraught by his own actions—not understanding why he was being so…improper towards you. But now he gets it.

His instincts have been itching for something to mate. And now that something is you.

Diligent, kind, and pretty…those traits, combined with being around you 8 hours a day, have made you an easy pick.

“That’s why I told you to leave. Why I closed down Palais Mermonia today—to spare anyone any trouble, and to try and deal with this on my own. But you just had to come back…”

The hand on your chest inches closer to your breast—fingers hovering above the soft mound of flesh—before Neuvillette catches himself, and backs off.

“I think I have enough willpower remaining to grant you one last chance,” he tells you, although his throat tightens as he speaks—as if saying such a thing pains him.

“I’ll release you, and when I do, run.”

Run.

Run.

Your instincts scream at you to do just that—the world moving in slow motion as Neuvillette takes a deep breath and takes a step back. 

His hands retract, momentarily relinquishing their hold on you and the door.

All you need to do now is twist the handle and dart outside. To leave him here, and not look back.

You turn the handle, and the door inches open. Behind you, you swear you hear something akin to a whine becoming trapped in Neuvillette’s throat. 

Despite his words, he doesn’t want you to leave. He’s only doing this out of consideration for you.

But…based on the way he’d spoken about his rut—the way he’d needed to read up on his symptoms to determine what exactly was going on—he’s obviously never had to deal with this before. And from what you know of ruts and heat cycles and the like, you doubt dealing with this alone will be enjoyable for him. 

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

Slowly, you close the door—until it clicks, and you’re once again trapped inside the room with Neuvillette. 

You can’t leave him here to suffer on his own.

Neuvillette’s arms wrap around you. His nails dig into your skin through your shirt.

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

His frustrated voice cuts off, and you can only assume he wants to call you some silly name, but can’t bring himself to. Ever polite, even in this state of his.

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, his long hair tickling your cheek. You reach up one of your hands and gently pet his hair.

“It didn’t feel right to leave you here. Alone,” you respond, and despite the way your heart is racing nervously, you still don’t regret your decision.

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

“I won’t be able to stop myself any longer,” he tells you. The truth in his words become apparent a moment later, when you feel his canines scrape your neck, and his pelvis grind against your ass. 

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

“I know,” you say quietly. Your other hand gives his arm a little squeeze—a reassurance that you’ll be okay. 

“This is wrong of me…”

The frustration in his tone is quickly melting into desperation, his lips incessant at your neck.

A quiet laugh leaves you.

“Wriothesley and I…we already do this kind of thing together. So…if it helps, consider it a part of my job.”

Truthfully, you don’t consider it to be a part of your job. What you and Wriothesley have is not born out of obligation (although, neither is this). But you’re sure hearing such a thing from you will help put Neuvillette at ease, considering his penchant for propriety.

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

—and then immediately grabs your chin, and turns your head so he can kiss you.

The noise of surprise you make is quickly drowned out by his tongue. A tongue that is longer than a humans, considering it pushes into the back of your mouth—nearly forcing past your uvula and down your throat.

The intense kiss has you fisting your hands in his shirt, your eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to reciprocate, but with every passing second, you realize that will be impossible.

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

His barrage of sloppy, passionate kisses go on for what seems like forever—your head actually beginning to swim as your body fights for oxygen.

Only when the first, pathetic whine leaves your throat does Neuvillette remember he needs to allow you to breathe. 

Retracting his tongue, a line of spit connects the two of you as you begin gasping for air.

However, Neuvillette is unable to wait for you to regain your bearings.

He grabs you by the backs of your thighs and hefts you into the air—your knees straddling either side of his torso as he carries you across his office, and over to the sofa.

He lays you down on the soft cushions, and you stare up at him, your skin flushed, eyes wide, and chest heaving.

He needs to see more of you. Needs to hear more cute sounds. Needs you all fucked out and stuffed with his—

Swooping down, Neuvillette captures your lips again. But this time, it’s more of a proper make-out—his lips melding against yours and your tongues rolling together as his hands trace your waist and settle near your hips.

You gasp into his mouth when you feel his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants. Then, a beat later, the hem of your panties.

Both items of clothing are in the way of what he wants.

In one swift move, he discards them both—stripping your lower half bare. He deposits your clothing on the floor beside the couch, and as he does so, he sits back—his gaze heavy with hunger as he admires you.

The intensity with which he regards you has you quickly feeling self-conscious, but before you can even think of trying to shield yourself from him, his hands are on your knees.

He pries your legs apart. 

You can't help the little gasp that leaves you—your pussy throbbing with nervous anticipation as his fingertips trace up your thighs.

His palms settle on your hips, and again, a noise is ripped out of you as he forces your lower half off the couch.

As if you weigh nothing more than a feather, Neuvillette drags you down the couch to meet him—your spine curving as he continues to manhandle you—lifting your pelvis farther and farther off the cushions, until your ass is resting on his chest, and your legs are thrown over his shoulders.

His gaze angles sharply downwards, to your cunt. And for a second, the pressure he exudes is truly that of a dragon—one that could unhinge its jaw and swallow you in one bite.

But while Neuvillette does open his mouth, he doesn’t bare any teeth.

No, the Hydro Dragon Sovereign actually wets his lips before he leans down to meet you.

The first taste of his meal.

You can’t help but hold your breath—your fingers curling into the couch cushions beneath you as Neuvillette’s tongue nudges between your folds.

He traces his tongue up—circling your clit, and making you jolt—before dragging it back down to the spot where your arousal has started to pool. You can feel the pressure of his tongue as he presses it at your entrance.

And for a few seconds, he doesn’t move. He just sits there, silently allowing your taste—your essence—to wash over his tongue. But once he's sure that he's memorized the taste of you—committed it to his memory as a sinful pleasure he’ll surely relish in during the millennia yet to come—he gets down to business.

His tongue nudges between your walls, his nose brushing up against the soft skin of your pussy as he makes his mouth flush with you. And as he does so, you (foolishly) assume he's as deep as he can go. That the stretch of your cunt around his tongue will be good preparation for what's likely to come, and he'll simply lap at you until he's satisfied.

…of course, if he was a normal man, that might be the case.

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

“Oh, fuck,” you pant, hips jumping in his hold as his tongue suddenly thickens and elongates. It twists deeper inside of you, filling up your cunt wholly.

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

“Monsieur—,” you say, breathless. You can't even think of what you want to say to him.

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

He says nothing, doesn't dare to take his mouth off of you to speak—not willing to let a drop of you go to waste. But, he does give your leg a little squeeze—a small reassurance, you think.

Then, his tongue starts to move.

He fucks it inside of you with precise control—rolling it up against different areas inside of you until he locates that one special spot that makes you gasp. Your thighs tighten around his head, and your pussy clamps down on his tongue, causing a happy little rumble to resound inside Neuvillette’s chest.

He becomes relentless immediately, his nose brushing up against your clit as he continues grinding his tongue inside of you. Your body writhes, and he holds you tightly—his fingers pressing bruises into your skin where he touches you.

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

You feel like you’re on fire—pleasure scorching away at the nerves that connect your brain to your body. 

You can't control yourself.

The moans and whines that escape you—the arousal that gushes over Neuvillette’s tongue as he continues fucking you…

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

Oh god, you can't even get a full sentence out. You want to warn him that you're going to cum—that you won't be able to hold back if his tongue continues moving inside of you like that—but he already knows. He can sense what's coming in the way your muscles tense, and your breath catches.

Cum, he wants to say, but doesn't—not daring to remove his mouth from you when you're on the precipice of an orgasm. 

Within seconds, you come undone—the walls of your pussy fluttering around him, and helpless whimpers falling from your lips.

And yet, even with you being mid-orgasm, a dragon that's drunk on the taste of you pushes for more. He folds you over—trying to reach deeper inside of you. 

The slick from your pussy overflows and drips down between the cheeks of your ass, and immediately, Neuvillette’s fingers are there—gathering it up and smearing it against your hole.

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

“Shh,” he says, for the first time retracting his tongue from inside of you. He kisses at your clit, his free hand trailing up your torso and beneath your shirt. 

“Lift your arms,” he says, his voice deep, and yet soft. The hunger in his gaze hasn't waned one bit, but knowing he has a mate to help him through his rut has put him somewhat at ease, and he doesn't want you to fear him.

Without arguing, you do as he says, and he manages to wrestle your shirt over your head. 

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

He takes a second to admire you, his hand moving to rest against one of your breasts. He cups it with his palm, his thumb brushing against your hardened nipple, and when you immediately jolt in response—he almost smiles.

Almost, because he still has more work to do if he wants to fully indulge in you, and satisfy his own needs.

“I'll take care of you,” he promises. “Trust me.”

And before you can even think of how to respond, he slips one of his fingers into your ass. 

The gasp that leaves you quickly deteriorates into a lewd moan as his tongue once again returns to your cunt, and you swear it’s somehow even bigger than it was before. 

Not having forgotten his new discoveries, Neuvillette effortlessly locates that special little spot inside of you and begins assaulting it once more—reveling in the way your body shakes, and your ass flutters around his finger. 

He needs you pliant and ready for him, and it takes all of his willpower to not rush. To work at the pace your body needs.

Luckily, his mouth on your pussy and his hand on your breast helps loosen you up. The tension you'd first held—nervous about stepping into the dragon's clutches—begins melting away. 

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

Compared to the incessant rub of his tongue inside you, the motion of his fingers is calmer—a purposeful, moderate pace—and the dueling sensations make your head spin.

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

You reach one of your hands up, needing to ground yourself with something—and you end up taking a fistful of his hair. 

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

He needs to hear you say his name like that again. Actually, more than that, he needs to feel you clenching down on his—

Neuvillette groans into your pussy as you tug at his hair once more. In response, he retracts his tongue from inside you and drags it upwards—grinding it against your clit.

Instantly, you lose it.

A mix of curses, blabbers, and his name are drawn from you—your body squirming against the couch cushions as he laps at your neglected and sensitive clit. At the same time, he scissors his fingers inside your ass, testing to see if you’re stretched enough for one more—

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

He says it this time—a low command partnered with the sensation of a third finger pressing inside of you. But before your brain can even digest the increased girth of his fingers, his mouth suctions back on your clit, and your toes curl.

“Fuck—!” you choke, your head pressing into the cushion as the tension inside of you snaps—pleasure rushing forth.

You unconsciously tug at Neuvillette’s hair and he takes a deep, long breath in through his nose. He’s careful to not stop the motion of his tongue or the grinding of his fingers inside of you until you begin to whine—your hand moving from his hair to his shoulder as you attempt to push him away.

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

Your chest heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, a few stray hairs sticking to the skin of your face, the slick arousal that’s smeared against your pussy, and the way you’re asshole flutters around nothing after he slowly removes his fingers…

You’re ready.

Still in the middle of catching your breath, you’re drawn back into reality by the sound of the rustling of clothes.

You peek your eyes open to find Neuvillette above you, shedding himself of his clothing. You hadn't noticed earlier, but he isn’t wearing his formal robes today. Maybe because he hadn't been expecting to see anyone, and therefore hadn’t bothered dressing up to the nines.

Neuvillette starts by loosening his tie, and then unbuttons his shirt—tossing both items down onto the floor, where they lay in a heap along with your own clothing. You expect his pants to be the next to go, but you both realize at the same moment that with his boots on, it will take more time than he wants to completely strip his bottom half.

Luckily, he doesn’t need to be completely naked to fuck you.

Popping the button and tugging down the zipper of his pants, you watch with bated breath as finally shoves his pants and underwear down. The fabric drags across his bulge as he does so, and you note for the first time how…substantial it is. 

He may actually be bigger than Wriothesley, which is something you were not expect—

Neuvillette finishes shoving his clothing down to his thighs, and you watch in pure shock as not one, but two heavy, ribbed, lightly glowing dicks spring out of his trousers.

…oh.

You hold your breath, unable to peel your eyes away from the sight of him. You’d never even considered that as a dragon, his sexual organs may be a bit different from that of a humans. You can understand now why he’d made a point to work your ass open…

Speaking of—

“Neuv—!” you gasp in surprise as he rubs his dicks between the folds of your pussy. You feel the head of one of his members catch at your entrance, but he doesn’t linger there—instead using his hand to guide it down to your ass.

“You’ll be okay,” he says, sensing your apprehension. 

He doesn’t look at you, though, as he says those words—his voice tight with desperation. He can’t wait anymore, so he has to believe them. Has to believe that he’s done enough to prepare you for what’s to come.

Gripping his length tightly, Neuvillette nudges his dick inside your asshole. 

It’s a tight fit—one that has you choking on a whine and grasping at his wrist—your nails digging into his skin. It’s not painful, but it’s still a lot—your chest shuddering as he continues to inch himself deeper inside of you.

As he does so, his other cock grinds against your pussy—helplessly waiting for its own turn to be inside of you, precum leaking from his slit and smearing against your skin.

“Gods,” he pants, a waver in his voice. His eyes are aglow as he watches himself slowly sink into your ass—the friction positively heavenly—and soon enough, he’s fully inside of you, his hips flush with your bottom. 

Your breaths coming quick, and your hand still holding tight around his wrist, the two of you meet eyes.

Then, the last little thread of Neuvillette’s sanity finally crumbles in the face of his overwhelming need to rut.

Claws digging into the flesh of one of your thighs, he forces it wider open, and grabs his second cock with his other hand.

“Neuvillette, wait—,” you try to say, but it’s no use. Even with your ass still adjusting to his intrusion, Neuvillette shoves the head of his cock into your pussy. 

“Oh, fuck—!” you cry, your fingernails digging crescents into his skin. 

Already drenched from Neuvillette’s previous actions, he expects your pussy to take him easier, but with your ass full, and your body struggling to relax, it proves challenging. He can only get his length half way inside of you before you’re gripping him so tightly that he can’t move another inch.

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

I’m sorry, you want to say, but can’t get the words out. You just need a minute to adjust. You can do this for him—want to do this for him—but—

“Hush,” he mumbles, close, and then his lips are on yours. 

His body cages you in as he kisses you—one of his hands resting beside your head, while the other finds the small of your back, rubbing circles into your flesh.

“You’ve been doing so well for me,” he tells you, breathless. “Taking everything I give, responding so perfectly to everything.”

His words of praise go straight to your pussy, and you whine as he pushes deeper inside of you—your walls relaxing enough to allow him farther in.

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

“That's it, good girl…just a bit more.”

Hearing such words from the esteemed Iudex—his hand warm on your back, and his lips soft on your skin…you want nothing more than to please him.

Taking a shaky little breath, you dispel the tension in your body. 

Immediately, Neuvillette takes advantage. With one last nudge, he stuffs the rest of his cock inside of you.

You’ve never felt so full.

Overcome with joy—a satisfaction deep within him that he’s never felt before—Neuvillette kisses you once more. 

…then, he begins to move his hips.

You cry out, your body shaking in his hold, but he doesn’t let you go. 

The slow, full rock of his hips very quickly deteriorates into quick, desperate thrusts—his cocks stretching out your holes.

The sensation is like nothing you’ve experienced before, and you find yourself helpless to do anything at all. You can hear your own voice, but don’t know what you’re saying, or if the sounds you’re making are words at all. Because while it’s your pussy and ass that are being made a mess of, your brain feels equally as scrambled—unable to conjure even one intelligent thought.

Right now, you’re just a dragon's mindless breeding hole.

The sloppy sound of sex fills Neuvillette’s office, and while it is nearly drowned out by the downpour happening outside—thick droplets of rain pelting against the windows—the plap of Neuvillette’s balls against your ass is impossible to miss. 

Ah…you’re going insane.

A tiny sob slips past your lips, tears beading at the corners of your eyes. 

Your whole body feels like it’s on fire—each stroke of Neuvillette’s cocks pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another orgasm. 

“Ahh…”

The heady sound from Neuvillette catches your attention, and you peak your eyes open, staring up at the dragon above you.

Never before have you seen him look so debauched—his hair falling out from his braid, and his face and chest flushed. His eyes remain focused on the space where his body meets yours, mesmerized by the way your body accepts him in full—nearly sucking him in, now that you’ve adjusted and any discomfort has turned to pleasure.

Only when he hears you sob again—a pathetic, desirous little sound—does his gaze stray upwards.

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

He’s not sure he’s ever witnessed a sight so sinful. The plush of your lips, the unshed tears that wet your eyes, and the bounce of your breasts with each of his thrusts. 

Before he knows it, he’s leaning down to kiss you. 

You whine into his mouth, your arms lifting to hug around his shoulders as he closes the distance between your bodies. He groans as your nails leave tracks against his porcelain skin, but he doesn’t relent. 

He’s getting close.

And, judging by the way you whimper—your pussy and ass clenching down on him—you must be close too.

Spurred on, Neuvillette kisses you again and again—his kisses open-mouthed and sloppy as his tongue dances around your own. Drool and tears quickly paint your cheeks, but you’re helpless to do anything about it.

Right now, all you know is that you’re going to cum. The stretch of his cocks—the way they rub against your walls as he continues fucking into you with abandon—it’s too much. Your muscles tense, and Neuvillette’s brows pinch together as your holes suddenly tighten on him.

“Neuvillette,” you sob, the sound of his name broken as you speak it against his lips. 

“Y/N,” he pants in turn. His rhythm becomes careless as he begins to lose it as well, but he continues to fuck you the best he can despite the constricting of your walls.

It’s only a few seconds longer before you come undone—your body shaking and nails digging into his back as you orgasm. Broken little sounds escape from your mouth as waves of pleasure tear through you, and the sensation of you cumming is ultimately what does Neuvillette in as well.

With one last buck of his hips, the Iudex buries himself inside of you and cums.

His chest shudders as you milk him dry, and you struggle to keep your eyes open—feeling utterly boneless now that the tension inside of you has gone.

For a minute, the two of you stay as you are—basking in the afterglow of your orgasms. Then, Neuvillette sits back and slowly pulls out of you. 

You make a quiet noise, feeling yourself clench around nothing once you’re no longer stuffed with his cocks, and he smiles at the sound, sensing a hint of disappointment.

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

Placing his hands on your waist, he gently maneuvers you to allow himself room to lay down on his side beside you. 

The feel of his arm wrapping around you and pulling you snuggly back against his body causes a contented sigh to leave your lips, and after a few seconds, you muster up the energy to speak.

“I take it you feel a bit better now?”

“Much,” he responds, and you can feel the smile on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

“However…”

He peppers another kiss against your cheek, and then your jaw, and neck. At the same time, his fingers ghost down your abdomen, until his palm is resting on your lower tummy. 

With gentle pressure, he urges your ass back against him—his hips inching forward at the same time—and shockingly, you realize that he’s still hard.

“...it seems that I’m not satisfied quite yet.”

When Wriothesley emerges from the Fortress the next day, the downpour he’d caught word of from some of the prison guards has stopped—only a few clouds littering the blue sky.

Hopefully this is a good sign, he thinks to himself, starting on his way to the aquabus station. 

He takes the line into the city, intending first to visit Neuvillette at the Palais—to hear about how his week fared with the help of an assistant. Then, once that’s done, he’ll go and visit you at your apartment to…catch up.

Smiling to himself, Wriothesley departs the aquabus and takes the path towards Nevuillette’s office. (Because somehow, he doubts the Iudex is at home relaxing like most people do on their days off.)

As he trudges up the steps to the Palais Mermonia, he steps on a wet piece of paper in front of the door. It’s the handmade notice that had been posted on the door two evenings prior, and had subsequently blown off in the storms that followed—but Wriothesley doesn’t think anything of it.

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

“Neuvillette?” he calls gently, his knuckles rapping against the door to the Iudex’s office. 

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

“I figured I’d find you here,” Wriothesley jokes as he steps inside, spotting Neuvillette as his normal place behind his desk. However, what isn’t normal is the fact that there’s a person sleeping on his couch—their body shrouded with a blanket, and an assortment of untouched food and a glass of water on the coffee table beside them.

Immediately Wriothesley freezes, confused about what’s going on, but…when he looks a bit closerr, he realizes the hair popping out from the top of the blanket, and the scent of the person on his couch are all too familiar.

“Y/N?”

Wriothesley walks up to the sofa, blinking in surprise when he sees that it is indeed you who is passed out—your face just barely peeking from beneath the blankets that have been snuggly wrapped around you.

“You know, Neuvillette, when I lent her to you for the week, I didn’t expect you to work her until the point of exhaustion,” he jokes, looking over towards Neuvillette with a playful hint of a grin. He expects Neuvillette to sigh and apologize, but the abashed look he is instead faced with causes Wriothesley to pause once more. 

It’s then that the Duke notices a small pile of clothes neatly folded on the floor next to the sofa, along with your shoes. 

Hesitantly, Wriothesley grips the edge of the blanket and slowly tugs it away from your body. 

He’s met with the sight of naked shoulders, and a neck peppered with small bites and bruises.

Just as slowly as he’d moved the blanket down, he tugs it back up.

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

“She is…unharmed,” Neuvillette finally speaks, moving a strand of hair away from his face. “Her current state is my fault.”

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

“Compared to when I last saw you, you seem to be faring much better.”

His words cause the blush on Neuvillette’s face to deepen, and Wriothesley cracks a small smile, letting loose a sigh.

“Ahh, to think even the almighty Iudex would fare poorly due to unfulfilled needs.”

“It’s a bit more complex than that,” Neuvillette says with a sigh of his own, prompting Wriothesley to raise an eyebrow. However, when Neuvillette doesn’t speak right away—unsure about divulging the specifics that lead to this outcome—Wriothesley decides to not push it.

“Well, whatever the reason, I trust that you haven’t hurt her, and that she consented to whatever took place here.”

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

Standing up from his chair, he walks over and stands beside Wriothesley—reaching down to brush a gloved finger against your cheek. You stir only slightly—nuzzling your face into the pillow your head rests upon.

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

“She is; one that works with care and compassion for the one she is helping. She performed well beyond her duties.”

“You can see now why I like her,” Wriothesley says softly, and Neuvillette can see the fondness in his gaze as he regards you.

“She did tell me that she and you are not necessarily in a committed relationship, but…I apologize regardless if I crossed any sort of line.”

Wriothesley hums.

“While the thought of sharing her with anyone else like that does make me feel a bit…possessive…she did consent to what occurred, based on your words. And, honestly speaking, I’m glad it was you over anyone else.”

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“I trust you,” Wriothesley tells him. “Although, you having sex is not a thought that had crossed my mind before now. It makes me curious as to what exactly you did to her while the two of you were alone.”

“I assure you a majority of her time in my care was spent with her performing her standard duties as an assistant, and nothing else. As to what happened beyond that, well…I’m not sure I possess the courage to recall such details aloud.”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to assure Neuvillette he was just teasing, but the dragon continues before the Duke can interrupt.

“I suppose if you’d like to know, next time—should there be one—you’ll simply have to be present.”

Catching the meaning of his words, Wriothesley meets his gaze. 

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

“Once Y/N has recovered, and when you next return to the surface, I’ll have to invite you both for a meal,” Neuvillette says, turning back towards his desk. “In the end, the support from you both did alleviate the issue that plagued me. It’s only right to repay such kindness when I’m next given the opportunity.”

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

“Well, it would be a shame to pass up on such an offer. I certainly hope that fate grants the opportunity for our schedules to align.”

Taking a seat behind his desk, a small smile appears on Neuvillette’s lips.

“I shall hope for the same.”

#genshin impact smut #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette smut #neuvillette fic #genshin impact x reader #bean fic #genshin x reader

[forsworned]

USE YOUR HEART ft. NEEDY!SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY

Warning(s): Sexual Content, Grinding, AFAB!Reader, Mentions of Narcotics

Synopsis: Simon is high off of morphine and it reveals his true feelings for reader...

Author's note: Idk because @dmitriene told me to do it and i <3 her

"I don't wanna be alone."

His voice breaks as he reaches out to you. His usual stoic demeanor had completely diminished in your presence. For the first time, Simon was needy. You gaze down at his hand gently gripping your hand, "I need you." He says. Pleas even. Dark, stormy, and now conflicted eyes are peering up at you and he tugs you toward him. You didn't know how to react. Seeing Simon so injured and broken makes you feel some type of way. Somewhat wrong, but somehow...powerful?

"You need me?" You finally spoke up. His Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"Yes.” He croaks out.

The morphine that has been coursing in his system finally kicks in and you were experiencing the lowering inhibitions of Simon Riley, not Ghost.

The Simon Riley laying out on the infirmary bed before you at this moment was vulnerable, desperate, and reliant on your presence and aid--insistent even.

But naturally, you're hesitant. A situation like this is compromising and delicate. Given the nature of the circumstances and his stature, he is obviously still at an advantage, but it feels wrong to pounce at the opportunity. You don't want to feel like a predator skulking about as he studies you with reliant, onyx hues.

You look at the time on your watch.

12:38 AM

It was quite late, but the tugging of his hand over yours disrupts your train of thought.

"C'mere. I want you by my side." He susurrates and you're in a bit of a trance at the resonance of his soothing, sleepy tone. It's not its usual gruff and gravelly, but instead a lulling rasp that pulls you in.

"It's late, Lieutenant." You gently chide as you attempt to pry his fingers off your wrist, but he takes his free hand over your own and pulls you flush against him. Goddamn, he was strong. Even in his dazed and confused state, he is built like a fuckin' boulder.

But he's not listening to you as he fiddles with your fingers, tracing over the skin and where it creases and finely wrinkles. Over the nail bed, and the unfiled ridges, down to the chip that you earned from earlier when you reached for your gun in your holster too quickly. He's thumbing over the half-moon on your thumb and then the scar on the meat of your palm before he brings it to his masked lips as if to kiss it over the fabric.

A small, shuddering breath escapes you, and your eyes are glazing over before you swallow thickly. He cups your hand over his jaw and inhales sharply as he closes his eyes.

"Don't care." He replies, curling his bicep around your waist and secures you so have nowhere to go.

Your heart thuds at the contact and your cheeks are teeming with warmth. And suddenly it feels like the heat in there is turning to the max because you're sweating like a dog under his keen gaze and snug hold on you.

"Want you to stay." And it's as if he's speaking purely from the heart when he looks at you like that. You want nothing more but to crumble into his arms and cave into whatever feelings are lurking within you, but there's an urge to maintain your professionalism. And Simon senses that. He wants you to let go.

Why? He didn't know. Be it the drugs, the near-death experience, or the fact that you look utterly gorgeous under the strong moonlight or all of the above; he wants you with all his being.

His bandage-wrapped fingers loop around the bottom of his mask and he's lifting it up to expose just his lips as it scrunches up under his nose. Even if you have seen the sight a multitude of times over the years of knowing your Lieutenant, it is always as awestriking as it was the first time you saw it. His pretty rosy lips kiss at your wrist and you're stunned.

"Stay." He croaks out.

"And then what?"

You can't help yourself from asking such a silly question. You just need to feel needed by him because there is just something about the clinginess in his body language that pulls you in for more. If Simon is being honest right now, he's on cloud motherfucking nine. He's so high that everything feels like tunnel vision right now and you're the only damn thing he can focus on, not that he would want to focus on anything else.

So when he's telling you to stay, he damn well means it. But he also wants more. He's telling himself not to be too hasty, at least the logical part of him, though he is following his heart's desires. And his heart is conveying to him that he yearns for your closeness, for all your regard, and selfishly enough, your own heart.

At this point, all reasoning is being tossed out the window when he fixates on your trembling, shimmering eyes and your quivering glossed lips that are slightly chapped. But he's thinking to himself, one kiss. One kiss would fix that for you.

Simon is no longer struggling to sit up when he's tensing you closer to him feeling the sweat wetting the small of your back. His brows slightly raise and you feel your cheeks flush at his little observation, but he's not halting his motion to close the short distance between you two. He's bringing his hand over the nape of your neck, carding his scarred fingers through the tendrils of your hair and a soft sigh leaves your lips.

And the way you visibly relax draws out a small smile onto his lips as your foreheads collide. You don't even dare to open your eyes. You swallow thickly as you feel your breath become shallow and sharp. It fans against his lips and he's feels even more enticed to just kiss you.

"Dammit, [name]..." He finally breathes out. And you're eyes are on him and he can feel a thrill creep up his chine when he sees the flash of longing overcome your half lidded gaze.

And now you're yearning to bridge the distance, creeping closer to him, nudging your nose against his, and faintly brushing your lips over the stubble on his philtrum. You notice how his chest huffs out, stuttering as it leaves his lungs.

Long blonde lashes tickle at your own as your lips graze and you're heart is thumping out of your chest. You feel yourself holding back from your own hankerings but the moment that Simon brings his thumb to skim over your bottom lip, you feel the tension snap like a rubberband and you're crashing your lips against his. To hell with ethical conduct and decorum, you want nothing more than to satiate your thirst for him.

And with every kiss, you feel like your hunger is being appeased. The ferocity that grows in the depths of your groin is clawing out as you clamber on top of him and you're tuning out the noisy heartbeat monitor that's becoming rapid. And it cuts out, thanks to the swift movement of Simon pulling out the cord so he can nestle his hands under your shirt and slip his tongue between your open-mouth kisses.

He's losing himself in you and he doesn't care because the feeling of your nails digging into his abdomen is more than pleasant. As if the morphine wasn't dizzying enough, he was starting to feel like he was reaching some sort of seventh heaven. Especially when he hears the soft whimper that leaves your lips when he thumbs atop your hardened bud and gently tweaks it between his fingers.

The tent that's starting to feel like it's pitching between his legs is getting ground upon and he shudders at how fucking good it feels.

"Fuck." He murmurs as he lifts your shirt up to expose your breast to him and he's latching his lips to your sensitive nipple. It's a soft probing of his tongue against the erogenous zone and you're instantly arching your back and he grasps at your hips to abrade your clothed sex against him. And it feels so fucking good.

So, naturally, you're not stopping. And Simon can't help but become absorbed in your pleasure. Your milky moans are like music to his ears as he switches over to your other nipple. The friction builds in your lower belly as you get into a good rhythm and it becomes increasingly euphoric with every roll of your hips. And fuck, it's not even much but the way you are so touch-starved makes it all the better.

"Simon, I—hah—gonna—" You moan out, throwing your head back in ecstasy as his tongue swirls around your bud. He's already addicted to the way you're saying his name between your whimpers.

"Cum." He commands, as he clutches your hips to help achieve your oncoming orgasm. His sexy, raspy voice is enough to send you over the edge and a terrific gasp escapes you as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Your breath is gone and you feel like your voice melts into a deep, hot sweetness that soothes your electrifying nerves.

There is a brief pause of silence as you catch your breath and the embarrassment skulks in and you don't want to withdraw from him. You only focus on his heartbeat which slows and his breath that levels. Your throat tightens as you shift awkwardly and his hand on your hip feels a little limp. You take another moment to memorize how he smelled to help you calm your nerves.

The aroma of his natural musk enmeshed with the faint scent of cypress digs into your brain as you try your hardest to engrave his essence before it slips away. With one more breath of courage, you withdraw from him to face the music but it seems he's fast asleep. His thumb is still hooked into the belt loop of your jeans, and you can't help but giggle at him.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you calm down from your climax and your shaky fingers, lower his mask back down so it's stretching over his neck. Maybe if you slip away right now he'll think that it was just a nice little wet dream...

But you feel his hand cling to you as you try make your sweet escape.

"Thought I told ya to stay." He mumbles under his breath while he wraps his arms around your waist, securing you and making certain you're not leaving his side anytime soon.

There's a feeling of assurance that fluxes over your edginess and you can finally breathe again. Simon's body feels weightless as he lays in this infirmary bed with your toasty form atop his. It feels heavenly to have your figure pressed against him and he hums in contentment. He's replaying the sound of your moans and the way your body writhed under his touch. And you're starting to feel the rigidity of his dirty thoughts against the zipper of your jeans.

"You sure?" You murmur back, feeling the warmth sidle back into your cheeks.

His grin grows under his mask and you can feel it against your forehead. Sleep overtakes him, but he gives you one last squeeze.

"'m sure."

#use your heart #call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagines #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x you #ghost x female reader #call of duty ghost #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon riley x female reader #simon riley imagine #simon x reader #cod smut #call of duty smut #simon ghost smut #simon riley x y/n #cod x reader

[justporo]

Hi JustPoro! I wanted to share an observation with you. Maybe you can turn this into some headcanon, fanfic or just share your thoughts on it? I just started my second BG run, romancing Astarion again. I didn't really see/notice it months ago on my first run, but now it's so obvious that when Astarion is sincere he always touches his own hands and fingers, like a tell. One moment he leans forward, looks you in the eye, spreads his arms, demanding all your attention. But the next moment he looks to the side, his words become smaller, he puts his hands in front his body and starts playing with his fingers, basically shrinking back into himself, even if he still smiles. It happens a few times and it's such a heartbreaking detail. How do you think the Tav would react when they first catch on to this?

Hi Anon, thank you so much for hopping in my inbox. And oh, this is a very good observation. So I wanted to write a little drabble about it.

If you see any typos: no you don't (it's not proofread, psst)

As a former thief you knew a tell when you saw one.

Because back in your thieving days it was part of your set of skills needed to survive. You had to know when someone was trying to rip you off. 

Astarion had a tell. Quite an obvious one too.

You hadn’t fully figured out yet what it was he was lying to you about or trying to hide from you. But it was clear that something was up, something going on behind these unusual crimson eyes, whenever he started to fidget with his hands.

Admittedly, you probably had figured it out as quickly as you did because you had stared at his hands quite often. They were beautiful hands: quite big, long, elegant and immaculately cared for fingers. You had to admit you had a thing for hands; but Astarion’s especially.

You knew exactly what those hands could do: from lockpicking even the meanest locks and making it look like magic in its own respect to dramatically being flailed around to underline the point the vampire was making; to oh so easily finding this delicate spot between your legs, caressing it, toying with it, making you lose your mind - with nothing but a touch of those fingers.

But the physical intimacy you had shared didn’t mean you were on the same terms in other aspects of your relationship.

And so the first time you noticed Astarion’s small nervous habit you didn’t let it show that you had noticed. It had been a delicate subject obviously. One of those rare moments where the vampire let precious details of his past slip.

From just the few things he had shared with you, you could imagine the horrors he must have lived through.

And from the way his body gave him away, you were sure of the pain it still caused him.

It was when his shoulders fell, his whole body basically folding in on himself from his usual cocksure flamboyant posture and attitude. His ruby eyes seemed leagues and eons away, still lingering agony swimming in them.

Those were the moments where unconsciously he started to nervously play around with his hands, obviously not even noticing. Tugging on the fingers of the other hand, pressing the thumb into the palm of the other - as if trying to give himself at least a bit of reassurance or to pull himself back by the pressure applied. And then the moment quickly passed again. Hands falling to his side again.

And so you took note but remained silent.

Until this fateful night back at Moonrise towers when Astarion had made a confession to you, you hadn’t ever expected.

Immediately it had been obvious how upsetting and strenuous it must have been for him to bring himself to even bring it up with you. So much so that you were sure he must be close to ripping his own fingers off judging by the way he worked while he opened up about his feelings for you.

So if this wasn’t the moment which would it ever be? As Astarion kept speaking you stepped closer, his eyes immediately growing big and round. So obviously afraid. Not of but of what he feared was about to happen. His words died on his lips as the vampire could only stand and watch, positively becoming a statue. His hands froze in position in front of his chest.

That’s where you gently grabbed them from with your own. He let you. Too shocked to react in any other kind of way.

“Did you notice,” you began as you started to gently massage them “that you tug on your hands when you’re upset or nervous or…” You blushed a little as you didn’t manage to finish your question, letting your gaze drop from his to where his hands were mingled with yours.

“I do?” Astarion replied bewildered, fully thrown off his groove and what he had planned to say.

You nodded, still not able to look up at him again, but kept softly soothing his fingers.

Silence fell between you as you kept going, feeling how your warmth spread to him.

After a long while you found the courage to look Astarion in the eyes again. He seemed transformed. A gentle smile was tugging on his lips, eyes full of warmth and kindness. None of that fearful behaviour that made him sink into himself but also none of the cocky performance he so often put on.

Instead, Astarion seemed genuine. Probably more so than you had seen him be this far.

And when he finally continued his speech, you felt more of that. All while you kept holding onto his hands. And - as you felt by the end of it - as he was holding onto yours.

Later, you of course still noticed those moments when Astarion nervously toyed around with his hands. But now you had no good reason to not go and do something about it.

So, whenever you noticed it happening you softly grabbed his hands, untangled his fingers and wrapped them with yours. Or pressed your palm against his. Or kissed his fingers one by one. Until the moment had passed.

And later still, when Astarion had started to learn to rely on you, you found he sometimes came to you, grabbing your hands for a bit of support. You squeezed his in reassurement and let your thumb wander over the back of his hand in these moments - until he squeezed back. A silent thank you, you’ve come to know.

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #astarion x tav #baldur's gate iii #astarion x you #astarion x reader #poro drabbles

[sweetestdesire]

3:28AM

WARNINGS: absolutely none. Just some pure, sweet content.

PAIRING(S): Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader wakes up Quinn Hughes with a very important question at three in the morning.

“Hey.” Y/N poked Quinn’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble underneath her cheek. “Quinn?” She shoved his chest, making him groan as his arms tightened around her. His upper body was bare, and the warm skin against hers felt like home, but it was simply not enough to have her go to sleep. “Quinn, wake up. C’mon.” She insisted, each word was spoken with a poke to his rib cage, and Quinn hissed, rolling over in bed to turn away with his back to her.

“No.” He mumbled sleepily. His voice was low, words slurred in his tired state, but it did little to break her resolve. She simply poked his back instead.

“Quinn, it’s important.” Y/N whispered urgently. He waited a few moments before ultimately grumbling as he gave in, turning to face her as his eyes glared at her while he rubbed the sleep out of them.

“What? What is it?” Quinn asked, his voice flat.

“Okay, so.” Y/N grinned. Quinn raised an eyebrow, and he didn’t like where this was heading even if he didn’t exactly know where this was heading. “If we were like, I don’t know, forbidden lovers or something, and we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

“It’s three in the goddamn morning, Y/N.” Quinn groaned, rubbing his face exasperatedly with his hand. Peering at her from the side, he exhaled at her pout. “Don’t make that face at me. Okay, you know what? Go ahead.”

Quinn always gave in when it came to her, and at times like these, it concerned him a little just how far he’d go for her. That much control in her hands over him couldn’t be good, but still, he trusted her. Blindly, with no doubts, Quinn always trusted her. Although, right now, he was second-guessing his choices.

“Okay, as I was saying,” Y/N huffed, “if we had to run away to be together, where would you wanna go?”

Quinn was tired and cranky, and his muscles ached, and his eyelids were the heaviest they’ve been with sleep, but still, he sighed before pondering over an answer for her question. And it was sweet, really, how he always indulged her in her mindless thoughts, no matter how pointless or how late. He always had a soft spot for her, and even if he rethought his choices sometimes, he couldn’t ever bring himself to regret them.

“Like... to another country?” Y/N hummed in confirmation. “Then I guess France.” He mumbled.

Resting her chin on his chest, Y/N peered up at him, his arm curling around her and pulling her closer. “How come?”

“So that I can push you off that big ass tower and finally get a good night’s sleep.” Quinn grunted, closing his eyes with a yawn.

Scowling, Y/N slapped his chest, making him scowl back. They both glared half-heartedly at each other, his eyes boring into hers. And he had to be up soon, but all thoughts of rest were whisked away for a moment when he caught a glimpse of her in the dark room, nothing but the moon offering any sort of light.

“Well, I wouldn’t run away with you if you treated me like that.” Y/N muttered, adding, “Jerk.” after a few moments just to ensure she got her point across.

Quinn snickered, and his arm tightened its grip on her. He felt safe because he always spoke through his actions, no matter how big or small. The way his arms grasped her, how they always kept her in place, right by his side spoke figures. His love was pure, it was raw, and it was real. She cracked a smile at his chuckles, the soft sound melting her heart and then some.

“I’m kidding, baby.” Quinn grinned, softly pecking her forehead. “I wouldn’t blow all that money on a plane just to push you off a building. I can do that anywhere.”

Rolling her eyes at how pleased he seemed at his answer, Y/N grabbed a loose strand of hair resting on his forehead, twirling the ends as she hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, if you’re about done with the shitty jokes.”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that they're not shitty.” He grumbled, poking a finger at her side.

“Why else do you wanna go there?” He shrugged, mindlessly stroking her back with his palm, looking off out the window.

“I don’t know. Isn’t it supposed to be like a romantic place?” Y/N stared at him for a moment, blinking, and for a second, he wondered if he said something wrong. And then she broke into a fit of giggles, making him stare at her bewildered as a soft blush dusted over his cheeks.

“Oh, Quinny.” Y/N snorted. “My little hopeless romantic.” She teased, pinching his cheek. The blush spread to the tips of his ears as he scowled, shoving her hand away and huffing. She hoped he didn’t feel her heart hammering in her chest from his words, though.

“I will shove you off a building. It can happen, you know.” He warned playfully. But despite his words, he still leaned in and accepted the sweet kiss she pressed to his lips, grinning as he pulled away. “Okay, your turn. Where would you wanna go?”

Shrugging, Y/N twisted the strand of hair around her finger, moving to trace the slope of his jaw. “Anywhere.” She whispered. “As long as I’m with you.” She said it truthfully, and Quinn was oddly emotional from the confession. Smiling softly, he pressed delicate kisses to her cheeks before connecting her lips, humming into the kiss as his hand rubbed up her spine.

“Baby.” Quinn murmured, and she hummed in response. “That’s real cute.” He huffed with a small chuckle, making her beam. And all too swiftly, she was pulled down with her cheek smooshed against his chest and his arms locked firmly around her, no chance for escape — though, she didn’t think she’d want to leave, anyway. “Now go to sleep.”

#quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #quinn hughes oneshot #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes x female reader #quinn hughes x fem!reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes drabble #qh43 #vancouver canucks

[ughgoaway]

Oh my god yes! Imagine she doesn't even show him, just let's him find it when he's undressing her. He's kissing up her leg and over her thigh then all of a sudden it catches his eye

🎄

this is SO GOOD, and it's similar to what i was thinking, but I'll let you all know my first thoughts!!

(18+ brief non-proofread smutty thoughts below the cut)

✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿✿❀✿

see my exact thinking was you getting it before a big awards show, maybe the brits or even the Grammy's. you keep it a secret from matty, of course.

you knew they'd win. They always do. so you had a master plan for when they inevitably did, and mattys ego started to grow 10x the size. he always got cocky after a win, and you've lost count of the amount of award shows you'd been dragged away to fuck in the nearest empty room.

so when you hear that announcer say "and the winner is.... the 1975!" And Matty's hands are in your hair and his lips on yours within seconds, you knew everything was going just as you had expected.

they go up, matty does his speech, thanks you and annie as always. but when he comes back down, his hand is gripping the skin of your thigh so tight you wouldn't be shocked if it bruised.

as soon as the awards take a little break, you're being dragged away to a bathroom. matty's lips are on yours the second the door clicks shut behind you. his thigh is pressed between your legs, and you start grinding down without a second thought.

his hands are all over you, gripping and pulling. his mouth working furiously against yours, both your lips pink from the pressure. he's already pulling at the hem of your dress, "fuck get that pretty dress off for me baby. let's celebrate my win, yeah? wanna fuck you with my tongue until you're fucking crying. want everyone to hear what a slut you are for me"

you push him away and rest on the sink, pulling your dress over your head and letting it fall on the floor below. You try not to think too much about the fact your £3000 dress is currently on the dirty bathroom floor, which is quite easy when you meet Matty's eyes and see them tracing your body.

your dress was a backless number, so you went bra-less, much to matty's enjoyment. so his eyes linger on your tits for a minute, and before he can cast them down further, you're pulling him in by his tie and wrapping your legs around him.

Once his lips are on yours again, you grab his hand and bring it to your tattoo. matty thinks you want him to pull your panties off, so he tries to grip the fabric. when you pull his hands off the fabric, he's confused, humming against your lips. but when he lets you drag his finger around those 4 lines, he knows exactly what he's feeling.

the speed at which he rips away from you is like lightning. dropping between your thighs without a second thought with wide eyes. his jaw slack as he stares at the box, tracing it over and over again with his pointer finger.

"fucking hell, you been hiding this from me, sweetheart?" matty whispers, letting his hot breath brush over your skin and smirking as he watches the goosebumps erupt in his wake.

"wanted to get it as a congratulations present for your award, you like it?" you tease, rubbing the bottom half of your leg up and down his back, ever so slightly pulling him closer to the tattoo.

"what if we didn't win? you gonna get it lasered off?" he teases, pressing kisses around the thin black lines. you can't help but gasp at the feeling of his hot lips against your skin.

"mmmn knew you would win. even if you didn't, you still own me just the same, " you whisper breathily, throwing your head back as matty starts pulling your panties down with his teeth.

anyway, you can guess what happens next. basically, matty eating you out and going on and on about your new ink.

"my girl. I fucking own you. branded yourself with me, huh? right by your needy cunt. or is it mine now, hmm? because that's who it really belongs to, doesn't it? its my pretty pussy to use whenever I want"

anyway... very fucking filthy <3

#sorry kinda talked too much #also this is bad #but im THINKING #thanks kirke for encouraging this #(as always) #teacher au! #matty healy smut

[man-down-in-hatchet-town]

So I Spied Another Day...

You know it was a good show when you can’t decide whether your heart is so full from all the love and joy, or so empty because it's over.

Really do buckle up, because this is a long one.

So the show went a little like this. They played the Spies pro-shoot on a giant movie screen, but any time a song started, the audio changed to the instrumental track, the video typically faded to simple background graphics, and the cast came out to perform the number live in concert style. There were also a series of audience participation prompts up on the movie screen, such as standing to deliver a line in unison, giving Lauren a standing ovation for the Pay Attention! Reprise, enthusiastically booing Dr. Baron von Nazi and the still infuriatingly catchy Not So Bad (for anyone who’s curious, in addition to encouraging boos and yelled disagreements with von Nazi, they also cut the audience participation bit from the song).

The energy in the room was so electric and full of joy and warmth. People shouted out iconic lines, went wild for everyone’s entrances, and absolutely lost their damn minds over Curtwen at pretty much every opportunity. And the cast were clearly having just as much fun. Doing This has always been my favorite, and there was something so sweet about them singing it again all these years later. We finally got Joey performing Spies Are Forever (Evil Reprise) again and it was just as chilling and beautiful as you’d expect. And One Step Ahead was just on a whole new level. I don’t want to give anything away, but the details in that performance were INCREDIBLE.

It was simply so special seeing most of the original gang come back while also bringing some new friends along. Shout out to Mariah for coming out at the top of the show so ready to play, setting the tone for the whole evening. Shout out to James for putting his comedy chops on full display (LET JAMES BE FUNNY MORE) and dancing the hell out of One More Shot (another favorite number). And shoutout to Carlos Alazraqui (taking over the roles of Sergio and Vladimir Poopin) and Tommy Link for coming into this crazy part of our world with such enthusiasm and silliness. Brian deserves a medal for agreeing to once again play the most cringe-worthy character in all of Pulp-StarCanWrecked history, and for sounding so fucking good while doing it. Tessa was having a blast in full unhinged glory and I gladly worship at her altar. Lauren is maybe the funniest person alive and deserved her standing ovation, prompted or not. Seeing Joe Walker perform live has been Item Number One on my fandom bucket list since I moved to LA a couple of years ago, and I still can’t quite believe I managed it. I’d wondered if he’d be rusty, but honestly he sounded great; it was like no time had passed. Mary Kate still has one of my all-time favorite voices and her Tatiana remains forever engaging. Joey showed up dressed to slay as a gay evil genius Bond-movie supervillain and proceeded to thoroughly deliver on that promise. And Curt… every time I watch Spies I am increasingly blown away by what he does with this arrogant, broken mess of a character. He clearly loves Agent Mega as much as any of us, and to see a performance refined and powered by such clear and thoughtful passion is just a huge treat.

(And while he wasn’t in the cast, I can’t not mention Corey. Between his roles as director and co-writer, so much of what Spies is comes directly from him and we don’t appreciate that nearly enough. And shout out to Esther Fallick for her wonderful work as Susan and the Informant. She might not have been there in person, but her incredible performance was with us the whole time.)

I know this is preaching to the choir, but Spies Are Forever really is such a special show. It’s a story about recovery, and devastating as it can be, I think there’s also something deeply healing about it at its core. For one thing, I know it played a huge role in mending my relationship with my asexuality. I will forever be grateful to it for existing, to TCB, Talkfine, and the original cast for creating it, and to those same people for maintaining its legacy with the amount of love and care it deserves. It was a privilege to be in the room as so many people came to celebrate this miraculous little musical. There were a couple of minor tech glitches (I wonder if they’ll even include the “big one”—the projector jumping over most of the staircase scene before getting fixed—in the digital ticket version), but nothing that could even begin to damper the magic of the night.

We all know that spies never die (except for Owen and the Informant, oops). And at times like this concert, I think this special little show with its short run in 2016 will prove to be just as immortal.

#anyways I just had the best time #and it took a couple of days because I've been so busy but I had to write down how special it all really was #so grateful #spies are forever #spy another day #tin can bros #tcb #tinlightenment #agent curt mega #curt mega #owen carvour #tatiana slozhno #cynthia houston #the deadliest man alive #doctor baron von nazi #the informant #joey richter #lauren lopez #brian rosenthal #corey lubowich #mary kate wiles #mariah rose faith casillas #james tolbert #joe walker #tessa netting #tom lenk #Carlos Alazraqui

[lunasdemise]

𝐆𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❆ When you first caught Gepards eye, He avoided you like the plague. Of course he thinks you're an angel and you're an amazing person but he's just so nervous! He breaks out into a stammering, red faced mess every time you smile at him!

❆ He Internally screams when yours and his shoulders brush past each other in the hallway or if you're passing him something and your fingertips touch, He's a mess! He apologises softly yet inside he wants to scream and hold your hand tightly.

❆ He watches you interact with his siblings and he swoons honestly, You like him and his siblings, so OBVIOUSLY you should get married because you're practically already THEIR sibling and HE loves you!

❆ One day on patrol he caught you staring at him, He waved nervously and you brightly waved back. Later you asked him about his work and he (ever so bravely my sweet boy) went on a rant about how hard things have been since cocolias sacrifice. You listened so intently and once he realized it had been about 3 minutes since he took a breath, your eyes met and he blushed SO HARD, putting his head down and letting his fluffy blond hair cover his face.

❆ "my apologies.. I...didn't realize how much I was talking.." His voice comes quiet and tight, fidgeting in place as he takes a step back. "Its okay, I like your voice" You smile at him and take a step closer. GODS ABOVE HE COULDNT CONTROL HIMSELF AS HE JUST "do you wanna go on a date with me." out of the blue you know.

❆ So you two go on a date and its atop a snowy mountain shrouded in the light of the stars and the candles gepard had set up for you. "I hope this is okay." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, "take a seat" He gestures his hand out for you to sit on a bench he had set up (he put a lot of thought into this) and once you get comfortable he brings out a bouquet from a small bag he had hidden behind a tree.

❆ "I know its not much for someone as divine as you. but it would make me the happiest man in belobog if you'd let me fall you my lover." His gaze locked onto you and didn't falter as he held out the flowers for you to take. "Please?" Gepard bit his lip anxiously

❆ You said yes. and he couldn't of been happier, he let out a breath he had been holding for hours. "Thank the stars." He sits next to you and takes your hand.

❆ he's glad he finally plucked up the courage♡

#𐙚Luna's Letters #✧Honkai starrail #honkai starrail fluff #honkai starrail x reader #honkai star rail #gepard landau #hsr gepard #gepard x reader #gepard fluff #gepard x reader fluff #hsr x reader #Honkai star rail fluff #honkai starrail

[val-cansalute]

summary: - a prologue of sorts - you and ellie will never be the same. the words you exchange are so deep seated and visceral, an accumulation of all the hurt. hers are telling; the love she gives is nothing like yours, nowhere near as intense, nowhere near as desperate. she’s closed off to you, and she may never be open again. she’s leaving town before it is even given a proper ending, to go on tour now that her music career is taking off. this is the end. at least for a few years.

warnings: not rlly proofread bc i ball too hard, angst with no comfort yet, dw it’ll come, ellie is dealing with trauma, references to sex.

an: every now and then i remember that alcohol exists but then i drink it and remember why i didnt drink it for ages. i hate alcohol. this shit is reaaaaally short cuz it’s just some context for the main story. it’s not really necessary to read but i wrote it anyway just because. unfortunately for me, bc whenever i start a story i get rlly anxious until its over, the next one prolly won’t be coming for a while since im gonna be travelling for a bit and i got quite a lot of stuff going on: love you guys, stay safe, never stop talking about palestine. do your clicks. :-)

masterlist

When you first saw Ellie, there were embers in her eyes - front of the pub, she didn’t even need a stage as she sang her heart out. Her captivating nature was enough to elevate her. Everyone else in the room faded to grey in the background, nothing more than a lively buzz punctuating the atmosphere. You were enraptured.

And she was too.

Hesitant glances from across the room at the same time each week, the music and the feeling was electric. The flush of her cheeks melted into the splotches of red from the sweltering heat each time she met your eyes. You sat on that same barstool; she stood in that same spotlight.

And when you started seeing each other, there were so many moments where you felt like your love for her was uncontainable. It spewed out of your pores and overwhelmed your senses every time she was near, even in spite of her soft and reserved demeanour.

It had a hold on you. Each time your lips met, it always became visceral for you, slow and sensual movements transforming into borderline aggression, tongue desperately searching her insides and tearing all the petals off the rose that was in her mouth. You wanted to consume her, suck her up and hold her in the comfort of your rib cage. She was everything to you.

And she was bound to fame. You knew it would come. She was made of stardust, and an aura so golden it would burst if confined in small town pubs any longer.

Sometimes, you gently trace the ridged edges of the polaroid pinned to your wall and feel a pool of warmth gather inside you at the feeling of familiarity her younger face brings. Her face, back then when her eyes seemed greener, her cheeks seemed fuller, her voice seemed clearer. It’s a sick feeling: nostalgia, remembering the way your intensity felt and what it has become.

If you stare too long, you’ll watch the grainy photograph melt and churn, the hues of her skin becoming duller and sunken inwards.

The house is quiet. It’s a silence so dense, you’re almost fooled into thinking Ellie isn’t home. But she is. She’s there, like a ghost lingering in the cracks of your walls.

It feels cold, with a lingering scent of whiskey and a heavy silence that creaks in the hollows of your ears, even for the weeks at a time that Ellie is home.

Maybe it’s a sick thought to have about the woman you would give up your life for, who you would do anything for, who you love more than anything in the world millions of times over, but you prefer it when there’s a distance between the two of you these days. Playing into that constant facade of everything being okay drains you of all your worth and for no return. Ellie gave up on it a while back. It’s just you prancing away solo on that stage now, like some jester.

You’ve become a slave to it, lost yourself out at sea trying desperately to make things okay, whatever that means. She'll never talk to you about it. There’s only scraps left to hide but she clings to them like they’re her lifeblood, tearing them away from you as if you’re just some stranger. Some stranger who watches her crumble to pieces and put herself back together, like she’s a damn mix and match, each time the memories come back to surface in her mind. You beg for more, for crumbs of her resolve but she’s gone. Not coming back.

Nothing has been okay. Nothing has ever been the same since Joel died. Ellie has never been the same. That day, he left and took a piece of her with him. A piece you know you’ll never get back.

There’s no room for argument, what is between the two of you is like glue that barely sticks, so you keep yourself deathly still and hold your breath with a pounding heart and complete desperation, not wanting to ruin anything further. But there’s so much you have to say, and no time to say it.

Instead, you watch her pull further away, see her eyes become duller, notice her absence get longer, feel the sex get colder, watch everything warp and twist and writhe until you’re beyond the point of no return. Until you’re not sure you trust her, or yourself, or the concept of anyone truly loving you the animalistic and self destructive way you loved them at any point in time.

It’s lonely on that island, watching her drift away, the person you thought completed you, she felt incomplete regardless of your presence.

You know the glue has faded when she turns to face you from the foot of the bed, looking so far away as she speaks.

"What? You're moving to LA?" She looks down at the fingers she’s twiddling, and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Yeah, Max said it wa-"

"Well, how long?" You cut her off, already rising from the bed and moving closer. She meets your eyes but the look she gives doesn’t satiate your anxiety in any way, despite how you beg it to.

"... About that, we were thinking it might be… indefinite for now..."

Your heart stills in your chest and the blood rushes from your head. She can’t even look at you.

"Ellie. What the fuck… How are you just gonna dump this on me now? W-what about us? What are we gonna do? I already barely see you anymore,"

"I... I'm sorry but, I gotta do this. You know I do, if I'm gonna make a caree-"

Desperation takes over, your palms quivering erratically beneath you,

"Ellie… I know you care about your career, but, God, we've been together for so long. I love you so much, please don't do this to me,"

She raises her gaze to the ceiling and forces the lump down the dry, tight hollow of her throat,

"It's not forever, babe, I’ll come home.”

But you’re already shaking your head in dismissal of her blatantly dishonest words,

"You and I both know that that is not true. You’ve been desperate to go since it happened and I know I’m just an obstacle now.“

"That’s… That’s not true. I really can’t do this right now."

"You never can. And it’s because I fucking know you're not coming back, Ellie! And I'm not gonna sit around, waiting for you to call, only ever hearing about you through other people when we’ve been together for so many fucking years! I want you to be happy more than anything-“

"We can call.”

"But you fucking won't! And you're always drunk! You need to talk to me, Ellie, we're never gonna be okay if you don't!”

“I can’t be okay when I’m trapped here! All I can think about is him! I don’t eat, I don’t sleep!”

"But this isn’t gonna make anything better! We have something here! We said we would start a family together, Ellie… LA; you would never have wanted this… Okay? Joel would never have wanted this!"

She gets up and turns without a second thought at the sound of his name and your blood pressure spikes in complete desperation.

"Ellie, Ellie, please. I'm sorry. We can work through this, I promi-"

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t! You aren’t being fair! You shut me out! You shut everyone out! I’ve been trying so fucking hard!"

"I know, and I’m fucking sorry, but I can't stay here, there's nothing left for me! I love you-"

Your voice is quiet and quivers with emotion that lulls her in, begging her to see that you need her - that she has always come first to you even if you’ve become secondary to her,

"Then prove it. Stay."

But her mind is already made up.

"… I can’t…”

You’re shaking your head,

“I have to do this.”

No, this is seriously the end.

“I'll come home."

You stop shaking your head and look at her.

“No. I can't wait around for you, Ellie, not when we’re like this. If you do this, it's over."

"That's up to you."

The rest of the night seems blurry to you. A deep despair festers to the brim of your skull. You can’t bring yourself to move once she’s gone, can’t bring your mind to calm itself down.

But once you do, the house is plunged into the darkness you encounter. The weight of Ellie still hangs thick in the air and lingers like a whine in the creaks of cold floorboards. As you leave the house you shared with Ellie, you pass through each room, switching the light on and then off, from top till the bottom, until you reach the last.

Click,

and then you leave, once and for all.

Pass round the bend and then by the sea. Watch the waves rise and then crash into each other, right where Ellie used to plant her feet beside you.

more pics of my cat bc she’s just so adorable 😩

#ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie the last of us #tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #fanfic #Spotify

[kishdoodles]

Treebark Week 2024 - A Post-Mortem

Hi! If you haven’t seen, I have released seven (7!) videos for Treebark Week 2024! This wall of text is my behind the scenes and also post-mortem thoughts on the project, which I found worth documenting.

Even if you don’t end up reading the text, I appreciate every comment, tag, and view my videos get. I did it for the fun of it and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t do it for the attention. I did, because I think these videos are the funniest things I’ve ever released. Shoutout to @thefluxqueen for being my partner in crime and confidant for these. You saw my vision.

I wanted to do something for Treebark week but admittedly I had noooo idea. So this whole gimmick was a fun set up for me to stretch my creativity in. What started as “I’m just going to do everything in mspaint with a mouse” spiraled to “I think it’s going to get boring if everything’s in the same style, so I’m going to have to do something different everyday.”

The important factor to me throughout all of this is earnesty.

Even if its life started as a joke, this project is a love letter in every respect. This is what I grew up on, this is the YouTube that is precious to me. Capturing this era of time in 7 videos is all at once easy, yet surprisingly laborious.

First I planned the songs. Fitting the songs with the prompts was a brain scratcher, but once we (me and Spain) had a few in the rest slotted in pretty easily. Common thread was, of course, any popular song from the mid-late 2000s.

The first confirmed song was Sugar, Sugar for Sweet (Day 2) courtesy of Spain, given the Eddsworld video. We had a few songs for Burn (Day 3) or Infernal (Day 4) which we threw out (Elli Goulding’s Burn, 2NE1’s Fire, Steam Powered Giraffe’s Fire Fire, etc.) I ended up digging through my old playlist and listened to 20% Cooler, which after a realization I immediately slotted it for Frost (Day 1). Spain brought up the Heat Waves parody (Cold Spells) for Frost too, to which I realized I could just do regular Heat Waves, so that became what I did for Burn.

Bring Me To Life was brought to my attention (I forgot how, maybe Youtube recommendations?) and with the lyrics, it became the song for Blood (Day 7). The all time classic, Angel with a Shotgun, fit in nicely with the prompt of Divine (Day 4), so there was no contest. Another classic, Everytime We Touch, was harder to fit but I eventually reasoned through the prompts enough to fit it with Lips (Day 5) (the everytime we kiss part).

At this point, nothing I’ve found fit Day 6 (picnic/garden/strawberry) at ALL. So I decided the only way I knew how. RANDOM CHOICE!

Mad World won but that was a trap, for I have biased myself toward Animal I’ve Become at that point and it almost won, so I went with that instead. This is a lawless land. 

-

The actual video ideas really came to me in piecemeal, so I’ll explain how I got each idea as I cover each day in order of when I completed them. 

20% Cooler (Day 1) was the most straightforward of the days. It was done in 1 hour and 30 minutes and I was purposefully being extremely literal about the lyrics. I already had the vision for what I want, and I didn’t want to care about quality all that much, so it came together really fast. 

For my process, I lined with mspaint brush and then bucket tooled with default colours. I took advantage of the new layer system mspaint added for some scenes, but otherwise it was as simple as just drawing. (Pictured, 3 layers for 2 scenes.)

It was really easy to just quickly edit in Windows Movie Maker 6 too, I just dragged the pictures in, slapped effects, roughly timed everything and it’s done.

Programs used: mspaint, Windows Movie Maker 6

-

Sugar, Sugar (Day 2) was an honest effort at avoiding any complicated animations. I initially thought of doing an animation similar to the original video that inspired the song choice, but eventually scaled back because. I don’t want to animate. 

Thus came the decision of subject matter. I ended up settling on the demon roleplay because I thought it was the campiest thing in the world. And it was a sweet reunion, no? The lyrics just fit the vibe, and in a moment of brilliance (hitting the showers) I thought to make a visual novel. One reflective of old flash games and like the visual novels of cultural zeitgeist at the time.

I’ve known about Ren’py for quite some time now, but I’ve never properly learned how to use it. For this my task was simple. Find out how to change sprites, backgrounds, and move people into the scene.

Sprites and backgrounds were easy, so those were the first things I did. Ren’s sprites were inspired in design by Demon Hunters in the Warcraft world, mostly because I was playing a lot of Hearthstone and liked the idea. Martyn’s sprite style was inspired by early 2000s anime visual novels, like Higurashi (though I’ve personally never consumed it nor do I actually recommend consuming this piece of media (neutral) its ripple throughout the anime community was felt. Notably, parodies of the anime’s opening were very popular.) I toned back the stylizations, but trust me when I say that Martyn’s hands were purposefully big to be yaoi hands. It didn’t end up that big, and I did not give him the dorito chin here so, immense self control on my part (or cowardice?). False and Joel were just my regular style. For all this I used my tablet instead of my mouse.

The programming part was a little troublesome, but it wasn’t anything I couldn’t google, so it got done pretty fast. There’s other small bits, like how I mismatched the background sizes, the sprite sizes (with each other)(minorly) but for the most part it came together pretty quick. Once the VN was done, it was just about recording it. So I put on the song, and danced along.

[You can download the VN here]

Programs used: Ren’Py, OBS, mspaint, After Effects (just to move the scene over at the beginning)

-

So I knew I wanted a classic style AMV, so that eventually became Everytime We Touch (Day 5). 

The pictures mostly come from a discord server I’m in (hi [redacted]!!!!) and I thought of it like a nice homage to the insanity we had in there. Bless all of you guys, you guys were the ones I wanted this series to be made for the most.

Not much to say beyond that, besides me just editing it all on movie maker as usual.

Programs used: Windows Movie Maker 6

-

Angel With a Shotgun (Day 4) was the last to be planned for. I predicted it was going to be the easiest to make on the fly (it was) and just kind of winged it. I wanted a unique style still for it though, and the idea of drawing their cubitos came pretty late. 

I was not exempt from this trend in my youth (my art in mspaint, age 11, me and my sister)

The rest was history. Just kidding, I really wanted something to do with the shotgun thing so I literally searched “shotgun” in Curseforge and got MrCrayfish’s gun mod just for the shotgun. I loaded up the 3rd Life world I had from my Broken Lives animatic (it’s a custom made world using the seed) and just got to work with FreeCam and OBS (it’s my first time with FreeCam too!)

A rejected clip I didn’t use because of skin consistency / continuity.

Programs used: Minecraft, mspaint, Windows Movie Maker 6

-

Heat Waves (Day 3) acquired a pixel art style as an homage to its original lyric video. People have said it reminded them of Homestuck, which I honestly don’t mind. It fits the era and I did grow up with it. It kinda looped back in on itself that way.

I blame this frame, here's it as a gif which lies unused.

For the video, the more I rewatched bits of Last Life for it (it’s been a while!) I realized it had a lot more potential than I initially thought. Though I doubt most of it didn’t come through in the final product (I limit these videos to a minute or less, if possible, excepting credits and allowing few more seconds over the minute mark so long as it felt warranted), I tried to cram in what I thought fitting to the prompt the whole time.

The watch tower burning was an easy pick, a classic Treebark moment you might say. For the rest of it, the nuance laid a lot in how Martyn presented the Shadow Alliance. “The Dog, The Shadow, The Roots. We make this place burn.” Under the eyes of the moon, it witnessed this pact form, and its resolution for the server. The moon is included in multiple frames because of this, as a stand-in for the eye of the Watcher(s) I included at the start, watching Martyn through the series.

In a lot of ways, how Lizzie and BigB turned red I also found fascinating. Lava and explosions you could argue are an extension of burning and fire, and an explosion was also how Martyn left the series. Ren, from the start of this alliance, inexplicably committed to and saw through what ultimately rips the people he was loyal to away from him. 

Martyn on the other hand, I drew in the later portions quite aware of the position he’s in, hence only his eye in the frame with the last 4 folks. This to me starts a path for him toward where he goes in the later serieses (notably in Limited Life). This is all very “vibes” and instinctual kind of “trust me on this” sort of read on c!Martyn honestly.

On missed opportunities, I’m almost upset at how I never brought up the moment Martyn buys a love crystal from Scar (never used, it got blown up) which I (and a lot of other) may have delusionally thought it was for Ren. Besides that, I never had a chance to desaturate the colours in the video leaving only red (which Ren did upon the encounter of the establishment of the Moon Cult)(it really emphasized Martyn’s lips!), I tried just plain desaturating, but ended up ditching it since it never felt like it jived well with the rest of the video.

All that aside, I finished this one really late (for me, which was past midnight on the day it was going to be posted), so I’m glad it was out on time. It’s the one I put in the most effort for, and I’m glad to see people enjoy it.

The eye on its own, which reveals the Watcher symbol I accidentally did in the wrong orientation. Oops!

Programs used: Aseprite, After Effects

-

Animal I Have Become (Day 6) was thought on for a while. Eventually I have my eureka moment and I thought it was a nice shout out to the Bannedstory community who I’ve followed in my early days, where I’d watch animations of people’s custom OCs (original characters) made with Maplestory sprites animated to audio clips that I really wasn’t supposed to be listening to at the time lol. That, and all the online games and the like I grew up with on the early internet. I personally didn’t partake in it, but roleplaying on those was a common sight, and I found it endearing. 

My partner in crime for this day in particular was @thefluxqueen, because I really can’t be bothered with character customization for a lot of these games (I respect the craft but I lack the patience), but I knew who LOVED doing that. He really knocked it out of the park, helping me do the Gachalife, Club Penguin, and the characters for Animal Jam and Ponytown. For the latter, they handed me the account information and we just went to town.

A Treebark stream in a just world.

I can’t tell you exactly how I assigned the lyrics, but I definitely assigned the animal sections during the chorus so it was a surprise (and so it also fit the lyrics). I did have fun recording and we had a fun time in Ponytown. We were shown where other mcyt fans are by a Grian pony (Hermit Hill) and then we hung out there sitting down while we workshopped the Bannedstory segments with both our sonas together. All in all a great time.

It took a few takes.

Programs used: Bannedstory 3 (I would’ve loved to use 4, I grew up with that!), Gachalife, Club Penguin, Animal Jam, Ponytown, Windows Movie Maker 6, OBS

-

For Bring Me to Life (Day 7)... I ended up getting more attached to the thought of it the longer this project went on. 

I wanted it to be the end all be all, go out with a bang and everything. I kept thinking and thinking, how do I end Treebark week? After a week of homages, how do I make the last one?

What’s beyond my childhood? It was just growing up. But it’s not like I had to let anything go. My artistic endeavors are influenced by all of my experiences. I saw good reason to bring it all home, do a callback to the styles of the entire week, it’s my victory lap.

And why not call back every instance of Treebark through the entire series then? This evolved into me learning more about Martyn’s lore because I want to be informed! I want to make this as someone who earnestly loves the narrative of these characters, and the stories they’ve told.

From a story perspective, it felt like Martyn was always doomed to tragedy. Suppose the life series always does end tragically, but Martyn’s Vtuber in relation to all this has its own inherent tragedy to it. In my eyes, this roamer of cyberspace constantly has to live through different lives with familiar people. The people he loved and cared for in one world will always be ripped from him, and he knows that.

Amongst everything the Unguided Hand gets me the most. In the video I drew the Ren he chases as a shadow. He’ll never get the Ren he knew then, back. Even if he meets another Ren in another world, it's never going to be The Red King. To me, Limited Life is the snapping point, a point of selfishness above all else in the comfortable knowledge that he wins, without ever needing to experience the same closeness and loyalty he had in lives past. The realization that this is what the game was about. Winning at all costs. I wanted the progression to reflect that.

Deep down, maybe he yearns to be saved from all that. The song echoes that sentiment. I tried to match the lyrics to how I saw the timeline of events as close as possible for that to hit. In this, Ren is his anchor, someone that he gets drawn to no matter the incarnation. The tragedy is that Ren, even if he knows about what Martyn’s going through, can’t join him in this journey. Martyn will always be alone in this experience, and Ren can only be a short comfort before the cycle starts anew. 

I quite liked the pixel art I did for LimLife!Martyn

From a meta perspective, this video (and by extension, the whole series) is about art and creating. I have been obsessed with art for 14 years now, and as time goes on I’ve grown fond of every way that we, as people, have evolved our storytelling. The multitudes of mediums that we have developed to express ourselves and share narratives will continue to fascinate me endlessly. Cringe be damned, there is a universal desire to create and enjoy stories of all folds. From the smallest story told from painstakingly typing chat boxes for little custom-made characters to say, to the highest production play put on for multiple hours in a game of Minecraft. 

And at the beginning of my journey lay paper and pencil. Bring Me To Life is an elaborate pun on my end, yes, but also a reflection of my roots. I started my journey as an artist endlessly doodling the adventures of tiny magical girls fighting demons, drawing fanart of costumes in MMO games I found cool, and sharing them with my friends at school. I find myself still drawing, still creating, for hundreds, if not thousands of eyes to see. Still I get inspired by the stories others tell, and I create in turn. In appreciation, in love. 

Bring Me To Life as a song, is a slate that, to me, reflected what I saw in the relationship of Treebark. Bring Me To Life is also a demand, of a piece of art that I had a vision for, that I wanted to bring to life. I struggled at how to end it for a while. Closing the book became very straightforward. It’s the end of this video, this saga, and another way that me, as a Watcher myself (as what they’re originally meant to represent) exercises control over stories in my own unique way. Creation is never limited to a select few. I think everyone should keep getting inspired by the things around them, and keep making art in turn.

To the people who’ve made it til the end here, make art, keep creating. Do shitty doodles, write whatever you want, make sounds and crafts and keep living. That’s all I really want, and this was what this whole series was about.

Programs used: mspaint, Aseprite, Blockbench, Bannedstory 3, Pencil and paper, After Effects

#art #writing #mcyt #treebark #treebarkweek #treebarkweek2024 #inthelittlewood #rendog #itlw #kishdrabbles

[idkfitememate]

So anyway this is the newfound brain rot because I got to many ideas, not enough for a fic, but it’s gonna distract me from others so here we go lol-

(Also yeah Grandpa I’m in a manly mood)

Note from weeks later: Nah this bitch a fix tf-

“Tell me about my Дедушка*.”

Capitano looked down at the ginger with contempt. It was often now, since Dottore had let it slip - curse that bastard - that Tartaglia’s Grandfather was a Harbinger. Apparently the boy had been raised to think that great man was simply a lowly solider, not one of the most powerful men in Snezhnaya.

When he heard that, Capitano had never wanted to kill a family more.

They hid your legacy from their kids, how dare they keep living as thought they had any right!?-

He sighed.

The boy continued to bother the much larger man at any chance he got, borderline begging - or now was he? Maybe he crossed that line ages ago - the man to tell him anything about his grandfather.

War stories, tall tales, hell even DRINKING stories, the 11th would take any.

It wasn’t like his Grandfather wasn’t alive, Childe could leave the palace right now and go ask you, seeing as you lived with his family.

But what Childe wanted was to come home one day in a boisterous manner and shout at his parents:

“You LIED you FEINDS!!! How DARE YOU LIE to not only ME but the REST OF YOUR CHILDREN about their ГРАНДФАТЕР?!? And to YOU, ГРАНДФАТЕР, ALLOWED THEM TO LIE!!! How COULD YOU?!?”

But he held to much respect for both them and you, even if his father sent him off as thought sending his blood thirsty son to join the Fatui would do anything. It was like sending a polar bear to a penguins nest, he had no clue what his father was thinking.

No matter, because you were there, showing him moves and teaching him tricks and giving him tips. Though, he still felt a bit betrayed at the fact that you even hid the fact that you were one of the strongest men in Snezhnaya.

“You truly wish to know boy?” The sharp voice of his superior snapped Childe out of his head. A quick nod was enough to bring Capitano to a nearby chair and sit, Childe quickly following.

“He was brave, I can say that much… He was around before me and had made a name for himself long before I even dared touch the Fatui, let alone graced its ranks.”

Childe took in the information like a sponge, absorbing everything the man said.

“They called him Большой хищник Севера*, a powerful title I’m sure you can see. It is said that before his accident, he had not lost a single man in war or battle, but after, he only lost seven men, one of each nation.”

Childe looked on in wonder. Only seven men… in the entirety of his Harbinger career? He knew the Doctor could never account for that.

“Wait… his accident? Do you mean..?” “Yes, when he first received that scar across his face, marring it, that was the first time he lost a man, someone near and dear to him as I’ve heard. I was only then truly climbing the ranks when this happened… a pity. But he wore that scar, and his friend’s Vision, with pride.” Childe gaped.

“Wait, you mean to tell me that-“ “Yes, Tartaglia, that Vision he carries in his eye, as well as arm and ear, back and finger, even his heart, they all work. They are the last pieces of his closest comrades. He’d rather die than give them up, I’ve heard. Unfortunately the strain of using them forced him into retirement, but he comes when we call.”

Childe’s eyes widened as he screamed.

“WAIT THEY WORK?!?-“

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

“BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-“

Ajax looked on in awe at his Дедушка. The nearly ten foot tall giant of a man, with a full beard and furry body hair to boot had just pulled a huge fish out from beneath the ice sheet they currently stood on while ice-fishing, bare handed.

Your roaring laughter echoed through the tundra as you held the fish up proudly. You grabbed the then four year old and hoisted him onto your shoulder, that which he could fully sit on and still have some room. His hands latched onto the side of your face but that didn’t seem to phase you, as you continued your loud laughter. The cause of your laughter, being that the fish was the same size as Ajax.

“LOOK AT HOW LARGE IT IS, МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН*!! SHE IS THE SAME SIZE AS YOU BWAHAHAHAHA!!”

Ajax’s entire body shook as you continued to laugh, giggles beginning to bubble up from his own mouth.

He watched as your Hydro themed earring bounced around as your body gyrated up and down from the mere force of your laughter. His laughter grew until the two of you were basically screaming out through the tundra.

You sighed and - while still chuckling - wrapped an arm around the boys waist and began walking back home. Of course, not before grabbing the bucket filled with other fish from your fishing trip.

Ajax didn’t want to say anything, on account of the fact that it would’ve been disrespectful of course, but your arm that was wrapped around him was bumpy and hard and cold, not unlike a certain place on your chest, though it was just super cold.

The arm was usually covered in more layers or a bunch or bandages wrapped around it to soften its shape and surface, but Ajax could still feel the sharp points and edges, though he never minded.

Eventually you both made it back to the house you shared with his family, and ducking under the doorframe quickly alerted the family of your presents.

“ГРАНДФАТЕР!!!!” Ajax’s two younger siblings - a third was on his way, Teucer would be his name - ran up to you jumping at your feet. You chuckled more and let their heads, greeting each.

“Tonia, Anthon, calm yourselves!! We were only gone a few hours hah hah!!” The two only cried out in joy louder, wrapping themselves around your legs. You stumbled for a moment before walking forward as if they weren’t there.

A man and a woman watched as you walked into the kitchen and subsequently the freezer - ironic considering where you lived - to drop off the fish before waltzing into the living room. You plopped down in the couch, first removing Ajax’s coat and then your own.

The two on your legs let go and smiled up at you, the man and woman - Ajax’s mom and dad - walked over a gave you smile, a hand landing on your shoulder.

Your smile widened.

Archons you fucking loved your family.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ🍓ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Archons you fucking hated these enemies.

These fuckers from Natlan were resistant little fuckers. You chop off a hand and they’d still keep fighting.

You were growing annoyed after hours of fighting, blood drenching your uniform and absolutely caking your hair, something you knew would be a bitch to get out from experience.

Your right hand of the time, a Natlander by the name of Eztil, was beside you through the whole fight. He wielded large war hammer made of various precious metals and stones, as well as prettified wood; it swung through the skies, heating up the air as his Pyro vision burned bright. Much like you, his battle-hungry smile was long gone, replaced by annoyance as he squished another enemy beneath his hammer, blood spraying across his already bloody face.

“UGH! I’m getting bored nouehuepo*!! When are we going to be finished?? I am growing hungry and wish to challenge you to another eating contest after this!!” He shouted, completely ignoring the man running at him with a knife, whom was taken down by another Fatui member.

“I do not know приятель*. But let us continue until no other man stands but us!” And with that, you both continued swinging. You with your fists, sickles and hammers, him with his war hammer and bursts of flame.

Your movements were in sync, almost like a dance as you ravaged the battle field. You had each others back, making you both the most dangerous force on the battlefield.

If only it could’ve stayed that way.

It was a second. A second to look back at your friend to make a mental check.

Then you felt a searing sensation on the side of your face not looking at him. Eyes quickly looking back, a knife was embedded in your skin and a man had his foot on your chest. He smirked, then dragged the burning hot knife up, towards your eye, but before you could fully react.

Everything went white in that eye, then black.

Then, the most searing, burning, awful sensation you had ever felt.

Your scream silenced the battlefield as you bat the man away with the knife still embedded in your flesh, his body skipping across the land like a stone on a lake. Eztil’s eyes landed on you, which was just enough time for another attack.

“EZTIL!!!” You screamed.

…

A sword embedded itself through his chest. Both your eyes widened as your hand left the knife in your eye, reaching out to your now falling comrade.

You refused to cry, because he’d live.

That’s what you said to yourself as you rushed over to him, not minding your injury.

“Eztil, don’t you DARE fucking close your eyes, do you understand me?!?” Blood bubbles from his lips as his breathing slowed. A tear slipped from his eye as one of his hands pressed against your cheek.

“Nouehuepo… take it.” He whispered. Your gaze became confused as you stared at the dying man.

“What..?-“ “My vision. Take it. She shall be of service to… y-you.” He let out a harsh cough, his blood not staining your skin, making you flinch.

“No. It is yours приятель, I could never-“ “It is my last wish. Y-you wouldn’t deny a d-dying man his last wi-sh, would you?” You sighed, smiling at him.

“I don’t want you to die of enemy hands, so would you allow me to do the honors?” His grin widened, a glint in his eyes as he laughed, which quickly turned to hacking up his lungs.

“O-of co-urse!!” He smiled, and you smiled as well. Your hand flew up to the knife in your eye, and tore it out, not caring for the fountain of blood that squelched out. You also didn’t mind the large flap of skin that fell from your cheek, revealing the musculature of your face and your gums and teeth.

“Goodbye, my friend. May you find many fights in the afterlife to satisfy your bloodlust.” He grabbed your hand with the widest smile you’d ever seen in him.

“And ma-y I see you I-in that place!” Your hand came down onto his head, knife imbedding itself into his skull. Then, you raised your arm and planted the knife tainted with you and his blood now into his chest, striking his heart head on.

The light died from his eyes and his vision, but you quickly picked up the small red jewel which had been attached to his hair. Wiping it off, you leaned back and held your hand forward, before slamming the damned thing into your eye.

The battlefield suddenly felt as though it was atop a volcano itself, the air heating up and ash seemingly falling from the sky. You gripped your friend’s weapon, testing it in your hand and grip, swinging it slightly. Your hands pressed to your waist and your hand tilted to the sky, and finally, you laughed.

Your laughter shook the world, men falling in their asses as you showcased your joy. the air grew even hotter as the vision grew even brighter. Your entire body shook as the ear hammer in your hand heated up to a point where the metals were turning white in heat, though they didn’t melt.

You turned to your men, a wide smile on your face and tears, one trail of water and one of blood, streamed from your eyes.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR MEN?!? LET US FIGHT UNTIL ONLY WE REMAIN!! CHARRGGEEE!!!!”

You continued to laugh as you knocked down tens of hundreds of soldiers in one swipe, the sky nearly turning red at the mere sight of your bloodlust and rage.

That night would go down in history. The night the sky cried blood, the fall of a nation of soldiers, the day Natlan would forever regret.

‘The Night Man became a God”

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You stared at the bloodied Tartaglia- no. You stared at your grandson, Ajax’s bloodied form.

He only looked back at you.

“Well, Дедушка? Have I become a God?”

Holy shit this sucked the shit outta me-

This ain’t the best but I hope you enjoyed might go back and make another of these lmao-

Дедушка - Grandfather

ГРАНДФАТЕР - GRANDFATHER

Большой хищник Севера - The Great Predator of the North

МАЛЕНЬКИЙ ОДИН - LITTLE ONE

nouehuepo - my friend

приятель - buddy

#male reader #x male reader #Genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x y/n #male y/n #platonic #family #Childe!Grandpa!Reader #genshin impact x male reader

[rev-wrath]

All my stars

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: You take Jason to see the stars.

Info: Fluff, angst at the end. No gendered pronouns are used for Reader, so feel free to imagine whatever you want. 1.4k words.

A gentle breeze makes its way across the property. Soon Jason will be pulled away for his nightly duties, but for now he lays here with you on a blanket on the lawn of Wayne Manor. Your head on his chest, his arm around you. Taking the time to say goodbye to the warm summer season with a picnic before it got too cold for them and classes ate up more time and energy than you’d like. For the day you had already said goodbye to the sun, left with the dark gray and blue mix you knew as the night sky here.

“We should go camping over spring break.” You say softly.

“We could go during a weekend.”

“We could,” You agree, “but I want more time out there.” Rolling over to your stomach, you have a look of softness that makes Jason’s breath stop for a second. “I want to show you the stars. You deserve to see them more than a weekend would give us.”

A warmth fills his own heart, and not for the first time, for a moment you are all Jason knows. You want to go out to the woods outside of the city to show Jason the stars. Something he hadn’t really thought of in a while. Something that didn’t exist here in the polluted city of Gotham. If he was honest, the thought of you just wanting to show Jason the stars because you know this makes him want to cry a little. “We can go camping over spring break. We should go.” There’s a million more words on his tongue but he’s not sure which ones to say, if any of them.

You smile and lean over, placing a kiss between his eyebrows, his eyes fluttering shut.

“I love you, Jason.”

“Love you too.” He says your name with your reverence, like you’re some kind of god. To him, you might be something like that, he thinks as your lips meet.

When Bruce is presented with the idea some months later, his eyebrows crease. “I’ll think about it.”

Jason refused to let up. You had made a joke that Bruce needed a powerpoint presentation or diagrams on large pads of paper to understand. Jason grinned.

Bruce got presented with a powerpoint. Alfred found the whole thing delightful and funny. Everyone knew Bruce did too, it could be seen in his eyes just a little. The butler added his own comment after Bruce spoke, making his allegiance clear.

“Perhaps, Master Bruce, you would also have some personal benefit from a little excursion in the forest. Take time away from your endeavors and from a distance you could keep an eye on the young master and lady while giving them privacy.”

That Bruce could agree to a little more, after a few weeks of Alfred and Jason, along with you once, bringing it up he gave in.

Once break rolls around Alfred sends all of you off with a soft, cheerful smile. Your hushed voices and laughter in the backseat bring a smile to Bruce’s face. Every so often Jason pokes his head into the front to talk directly to his dad. Though at one point he pulls out a book, The Outsiders, reading that. You spend most of that time with your head on his shoulder, a hand wrapped around his arm instead of his hand so that he could still flip pages and hold the book. Eventually you reach your destination. A small walk from the beaten path is a big enough clearing for you two and your activities.

Promising Bruce that you would yell if you needed anything and that yes, the two of you can put the tent up by yourselves and could make a fire. He checked everything one more time before allowing you to split from him. You’d meet back up for dinner together. For now you and Jason take up the task of putting up the tent.

Once you had successfully put up the slightly tilted tent you went to gather firewood, a task that mostly involved you and Jason running around chasing each other, your laughter ringing out in the forest and a quick little stick fight with two incredibly nice, sturdy sticks. Despite that you two quickly gathered decent sticks. By the time Bruce made his way back to your little area Jason already had a fire going. Dinner also meant that night would fall soon and the real reason you are out here could happen.

Long after s’mores and Bruce had left, the sun set, giving way to a gorgeous dark blue sky. You and Jason sit next to each other, tucked into each other’s side, as you watch that sky slowly fill with bright flecks of stars. A grin spreads across your face as you look up, a small gasp draws your attention to Jason. Beautiful, wonderful Jason with wide eyes full of wonder, mouth still stuck in that gasp. The stars are reflected within his eyes, it’s beautiful but your focus is still solely on Jason. There isn’t much you wouldn’t do for Jason to keep that look on his face, to keep feeling that feeling, to experience all the wonderful things he hadn’t yet known. He deserves to see the stars every night, to experience this every single day. You’d have to make every second here count, then find what else you could give to him that’d bring this wonder to him.

Jason ended up deciding to ditch the tent, pulling the sleeping bag out to lay it under the stars. “Thank you,” he whispers, holding you against him. “for taking me out here.”

“Thank you for coming. Maybe we can go up the mountain and look at the stars there.” The view from up there would be even better, something Jason deserved. You had no doubt they could handle such a hike to the nearby mountain and up it. How long you’d be up there is a different question though. Would you spend the night up there?

Jason’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “The stars are beautiful, but they don’t compare to you.”

You smile and kiss him. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome. Not bad at all.” Jason kisses you this time, murmuring poetry against your lips.

On the third night Jason grabs your hand, tugging you up. “Dance with me?”

“Of course.” You follow him, one hand in his, the other on his shoulder.

The forest provides its own music with the chirps and trills of the bugs, the rustle of the leaves, and if you really concentrate you could hear the nearby stream.

Jason starts humming as you sway together, pressed against one another. Softly, you join in. You don’t know how long you stayed there, wrapped up in each other as the forest sang. What you did know is that you didn’t want to be anywhere else. A part of you wanted to stay forever, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Under those stars you danced, laughed, and kissed Jason. They were your stage, your backdrop, creating so many sacred moments. Each and every night Jason was enraptured by them, and you by him. Eventually it had to come to an end, you had to go back to Gotham with its smog. You promised each other you would come and see the stars together again.

Death would shatter that promise weeks later as you screamed and cried when Bruce returned with Jason’s corpse, neither of you ever to see the stars again. You’re content to resign yourself to the smoggy gray skies of Gotham, with its artificial yellow and oranges, streaked with all other sorts of colors. The forest and its endless stars could be left with his memory and wonder, away from your glooming grief.

Yet, months later when Jason looks up at the sky with green eyes, he can’t help but to think that this sky is more worthy of your gaze, that you should be here looking out into this speckled canvas. Looking at the stars here Jason can’t help but think of you, who took him to see the stars because no one else had, because you wanted him to, because you thought he deserved it. Jason can’t help but to think even here you are still more beautiful than the stars. Jason can’t help but to think of you as he looks at the stars, after all to him you might as well have hung them.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x male reader #jason todd x nonbinary reader #jason todd imagine #x reader #reader insert #dc reader insert #dc #read reed

[animentality]

Do you think Gortash would still love Durge even after their bad ending (you know when they betray Bhaal and choose to surrender themselves to prison at the end) and they’ve gone mad?

For example, let’s say in an alternate scenario where Gortash survives at the end of the game. All the other companions have abandoned Durge, do you think Gortash would step in and try to help them? Do anything?

I've wracked my brain at night thinking about it.

On the one hand, the part of me that looks exclusively at in game Gortash says that Gortash wouldn't love them without power and without reason.

Because the more canon aligned Gortash is more pragmatic than emotional and although I do think his feelings verged into the impractical, he still fundamentally needs balance.

He's a domineering kind of guy, he gets along with Durge because they refused to be cowed in any way by him, and he dared not pity them or treat them with anything less than the utmost respect.

He can't sweep them under his tidal wave of personality, he crashes upon their shore, and they chip away at each other, grain by grain, in a tumultuous but steady balance.

they had a tango, you know. two partners working together. sex and love stemmed from something other than practicality, but it was practicality that brought them together initially.

He loves the Dark Urge for their power and reason, and without those two things... maybe he wouldn't seek them out.

especially not after they betrayed him.

and I don't know. the more assholish Gortash would see their alliance as having reached its inevitable conclusion. the more... emotional but distant Gortash would say, goodbye, old friend.

I wish you could've escaped your master, as I escaped mine.

and he wouldn't see them again.

but canon aligned Gortash is underwritten anyway.

so I'll do Larian's job for them and say...

well.

it could go either way.

I can see Gortash abandoning them because he is literally unable to look upon his former love, completely without freewill, and not feel soul crushing, life ending despair.

I could see it being too painful to see them when he knows he can't help them and they can't be helped by anyone, and they're gone, and he has to accept that.

again.

but I can also see...

a determined Gortash.

who has nothing now, except perhaps a desire for revenge against Durge. but as they are, mad and alone and insatiable, why even bother, right?

Bhaal has tortured them more than Gortash ever could.

maybe he keeps them locked in a basement somewhere, and at first it's just to lord it over them. mock their failure, their inability to prevent themselves from becoming like this.

in the beginning, he's still bitter about his plan failing and he blames them. to him, maybe it's a cosmic justice...

he says you could've ruled the world with me at your side and Bhaal and Bane at our backs.

but you chose this instead.

but as time goes on, his heart softens and he starts wondering if they're in there somewhere.

the only person who could understand him.

whom he could understand truly.

and maybe they're down there somewhere, trying to be understood again.

so he shows them things he hopes they remember about the life they shared together for a brief but important time. maybe books they talked about. blueprints he showed them of his future inventions. their notebooks, left behind. their old clothing, left over after long nights spend fucking and arguing.

maybe he tries to find a cure. he has some medical expertise, right? from dissecting people. maybe he tries to find a solution, some way to bring them back. maybe he pours himself into studies of bhaalspawn and deeper magic, trying to find some way to bring back a person whose mind has been ravaged into nothing.

but worst case scenario ...

he has to give up on all that... and give them the death he knows they would've asked for, had they been conscious.

so.

yeah.

anon. I've thought of it.

#baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #enver gortash #dark urge #durgetash

[strangestofthings12]

This is going to be a very rambling and venty post cause im tired and annoyed and honestly am just using this to vent my anger/hurt. there is going to be stuff that can maybe be seen as anti tommy/bucktommy (please dont tell me a ship name to put i dont care about if they do have an agreed upon ship name right now) so if you dont want that please just move on. i dont want to fight i just want to yell into the void on a stupid throw away account so i dont bring my negativity stew and come out on my main blog where i just want to enjoy my stuff and just keep happy energy. I dont normally post and try and just find someone who explains it better because im not great and getting what im saying across or understood the way i want, so please bear with me. With that said i will move on to what i want to say

Okay so i have been watching 9-1-1 for years and i love and adore it. Its characters and dynamics and i have always loved found family. Now i will admit that i started watching it thinking that Buck and Eddie were a couple and had a son so i was kinda watching for it. Do i think if i didn't start watching thinking that i would ship them still yes 100%. I have always loved their relationship and i have loved watching both Buck and Eddie grow and start to be happy while also having each others back even at the worst times. Sometimes if i think to hard about Eddie and start crying cause I'm very normal about this show and it characters. Now Eddie is my favorite character in the show and at least in my top five overall favorite characters. I love him and his development and i adore seeing how much he does to just do right by Chris even when he messes up you can tell how much he adores that boy and how badly he wants to give Chris the best life possible. I could write essays about Eddie Diaz trying to explain how much i love him and why and i think words would run out before i could finish making people understand. Buddie is my favorite ship (sometimes second depending on my mood. i would say sorry but Henren and Madney will always be amazing ships and sometimes i just cant stop think about them)(Sorry Bathena i love you too i swear i just cant decide if i wanna kiss athena or be adopted by bobby and athena:( Its confusing) and has been for quite awhile and is one of my overall favorites and its one of my comfort ships.

With that context when bi Buck happened i was so insanely happy and i wouldnt shut up about it. it made me sick. i was so happy for Buck and while i think a part of me will always be a little sad Eddie wasnt his first kiss with a guy i dont think either of them are ready for that. i also understand that it wouldnt make sense for how the story is going right now. Now i have nothing against bucktommy in the show. I have watched the kiss scene and sobbed to much to pretend like i hate them or even dislike them. However I genuinely dont care about Tommy. Hes kinda bland and i forget about him half the time and before they brought him back i completely forgot his name. in my mind he was the one that wasnt as much of an asshole to chim and hen as the other two assholes which wasnt saying a lot. Now I dont dislike tommy nor am i going to act like hes irredeemable because neither Chim nor Hen seem to think hes still that guy and while they dont seem super close they seem to get along so clearly, he's not like that anymore. I have nothing that makes me dislike him nor do I like him. He's just there. He's just the guy buck kissed. Thats all he means to me. I would give up his screen time for Ravi or May or Karen in a heartbeat. because i love them cause they mean something to me. I don't think i thought about the fact that people might actually like him especially not more than EDDIE.

This is where the context matters cause i am to my core a one ship per person girly. I might see a ship and people who like it and even think thats not a terrible ship but i will still only look at content for my ship for that person (ie. i ship Destiel (dont say anything bad about them ill cry<3) but i can see the way someone would also ship Dean and Benny or crowley or Cas and Crowley or Mick but i will ignore the ship and move on and look at more Dean and Cas). normally i will just ignore the ship and move on because im not who its for. If it gets annoying in my tag or anything like that ill block it or whoever is annoying me cause its not a them problem that i dont want to see it. When i start to have a problem is when multiple people arent tagging right for whatever reason or people who are being rude about the ship i like because of their ship. When I started seeing Bucktommy stuff more and more in the 9-1-1 tag i went to the buddie tag cause i dont want to see them. my problem is that when im reading on AO3 and click on a fic tagged Buddie where bucktommy get married. it was literally just hurting Eddie. There was stuff before like id be scrolling though the buddie tag here and see someone saying that Tommy is a better character then Eddie and saying that they hope bucktommy is endgame. Whatever block and move on. Just like always but then people who have shipped buddie for years who ive seen talk about them are suddenly saying that they like bucktommy better. People who started watching because of bucktommy saying they dont like Eddie. People are going to have different opinions but it still bugged me. and then i read that and i was just hurt because it was tagged happy ending and i cannot fathom ever thinking Eddie hurting and pining is a happy ending. So i started to get more annoyed and i hate when that happens especially with a show i love and a character i dont dislike so i tried to just move on but more and more people are taking about it then i saw someone saying that they wanted eddie to die so buck and tommy can have Chris.

I just hate that so many people are jumping on the bucktommy train and saying that they like it better than buddie something that is so good and sweet or saying that they like Tommy more than Eddie. I just dont get it cause Tommy is boring. like yeah we now some about him and he flies a helicopter but hes forgettable he could be a completely different person and next to nothing would have to change. We have seen Eddie at his worst and claw his way back up and hes finally letting himself be open and honest and soft. Eddie couldnt be replaced. Now im not saying Tommy can't be an interesting character but as he is right now?? He just isnt. Hes just as bland as every women (minus Taylor and Shannon) Buck and Eddie have dated and been hated on for no reason!!! Like i get that Tommy is a guy and we got canon Bi Buck and people are happy but those same people turn around and shit on Marisol from what ive seen(I could be wrong cause again i have done my best to avoid). Buddie fans arent safe from that either, cause we all know that Buddie fans do that but so many of those people who hated on them and said they didnt want them with anyone else suddenly decided that they were okay if Buck ended up with any guy. I dont know its just weird and i hate how many people are acting like Eddie isnt always going to be better then Tommy. Part of me wanted Tommy to stick around and help Buck and Eddie figure it all out but now?? i honestly just cant wait for him to be gone cause I want to have fun and read fics for my comfort ship and just chill where i can see all of my ships in the show without buck and tommy being everywhere or people saying crap about Eddie.

I have more to say but most of its about how gratifying waiting and seeing where this whole thing goes(Buddie season 8 PLEASE!!) and this is already why to long and i think im just going in circles and none of this makes sense so ima shut up for now and hopefully this will help it not fester and drive me insane and become a tommy hater

Edit: but i also hate that Tommy calls Buck Evan so he already had some stuff against him rip

#911 #buddie #anti bucktommy #i guess?? #i dont know #i dont know what to tag this and just hope i dont upset anyone #anti tommy kinard #again i guess #but not really?? #let me know if i need to add any tags:)

[loomiseater]

First time

Warnings: smut ofc!, virginity loss, unprotected sex, p in v, and oral female receiving.

Billy Loomis x fem reader

A/N: this took a while because I was trying to decide how I wanted to write this, sorry!

Criticism is appreciated! I would love to know how I can improve on my writing.

Masterlist

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Written: April 24th, 2024-April 28th, 2024

Published: April 29th, 2024

Wc:1233

Summary: Billy takes your virginity.

This request was from my fav @dollettecoquette !! 💗. 

You and Billy were in a heated make out session on your bed. Billy gripped your hips as you grinded into his lap. “You’re so pretty, you know that?” He stated as he pulled away from the kiss. 

“Are you saying that so you can get in my pants, Loomis?” You ask playfully. He looked nervous from your words so you decided to lighten the mood. “If so its working” you finished as he smiled a little. 

Just as Billy was about to bring you into another kiss, there was a knock on your bedroom door. You hurriedly got off his lap and he went to go sit on the chair at your desk. You both acted like everything was normal as your mother walked in. 

“Your father and I are going out to dinner with friends” she explained while looking down at her phone. “Your father left money on the counter for dinner, we should be back around 10:00” Your mother stated as she walked back out the door without even saying bye nor looking at you and Billy.

“No parents, this must be my lucky night” Billy said as he picked you up and laid you on the bed. Your giggles filled the room as placed kisses on your chest and neck. 

He pulled away from your neck as his dark chocolate eyes locked with yours. “I want you” he said. You knew what he was referring to but your heart started racing. Before you could think, the words spilt out of your mouth. “I’m ready.”

That was all he needed to hear before he took your shirt off along with his own. “Been waiting for this moment since we first met” he says while making love bites all on your exposed chest. 

He swiftly unhooked your bra and took your right breast in his hand and started sucking. Soft moans fell from your mouth due to the pleasure. You’ve never felt this type of pleasure before but it was defiantly something you could get used to. He soon moved from your breasts to in between your legs.

He pulled down your shorts along with your panties. Your core was aching even more, especially now with his breath coating your inner thighs. “You have such a pretty pussy” he said as he placed a kiss to your legs. Your hips jerked at not only his words but the kiss he gave you.

“Billy-please” you begged at he let out a dark chuckle. “Patience baby” he responded as he placed kisses on your inner thighs instead of where you really needed him. Your body was on fire, in this moment all you wanted was his mouth on you.

As if he heard your thoughts, you felt his tongue lick a stripe up your core. Your breath hitched at this feeling and it didn’t go unnoticed by him. He soon dived in and started eating you out like you were his last meal. “Billy-fuck!” You moaned as your hand gripped the back of his head. 

He was eating you out like mad man, shaking his head side to side, and slurping up your juices. You could feel the flat of his tongue on your folds. He raised his head to look at you for a split second, leaning back down and placing your legs on his shoulders. 

“Billy, it’s too much!” You whined but he didn’t care. “Taste so good” he said carelessly. It was like he was drunk from off the taste of your pussy. Billy started thrusting his tongue in and out of you and that was your last straw. You came all over his face and he enjoyed every last bit of it. 

You’ve never had an orgasm before, you’ve never fingered yourself, and never used any toys. You wanted to experience this pleasure during your first time and now you finally did. A sense of euphoria brushed over you and your brain was now foggy. 

“You did so good for me, princess” he stated before placing a kiss on your stomach. His face was glistening in your juices and he didn’t even seem to care. He hovered over your body for a second, then brining you in for a kiss. You now see why he enjoyed tasting you so much, you could taste yourself all in his mouth as you moaned into the kiss. 

His dick twitched a little at the moan you let out and you soon started to palm him through his jeans. As you two were still in this intense make out session, he began to unbuckle his jeans and slide out of them. He was already shirtless but you couldn’t help to admire his abs again after you two broke away from the fiery kiss to catch some air.

He pulled himself out from his boxers and you couldn’t help but to wonder how he was gonna fit inside of you. He was long, thick, and veiny. 

You finally announced your thoughts to Billy. 

“Babe?” You start off as he hummed, raising an eyebrow at you. “How’s that supposed to fit in me?” You question as he chuckled. “We’ll make it fit” he stated before giving you a kiss. You look down to see him teasing your folds with his tip before pushing slowly into you. 

There was a stretch and almost a burning sensation that you felt. You wanted to scream at the pain but you didn’t wanna be a bitch. “I know it hurts a bit baby but I gotta pull back out and keep thrusting” he said softly as you nodded your head. 

Billy pulled back out and thrusted himself back into you. The burning sensation was gone but you still felt the thrust, eyes rolling back from the pleasure he was giving you. “So fucking tight” he said lowly to himself. He was trapped in between in your legs, his grunts filled the room. 

He sucked in some air as he looked down at the mess you were making on his dick, it was art to him. “Feels so good” You choked out. “I know baby, I know” he responded. 

When he thought you were stretched out enough, he raised one of your legs on his shoulders and kept the other one down. Tears filled your eyes when he started thrusting even faster. Your nails soon dug into his back as he grunted from the sting.

“I love you so much, baby” He said as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too” you say breathless at his strokes. It’s like you could feel every vein of his dick inside of you. “Best pussy I’ve ever had” he said in your ear and thats when you lost it. Yours legs shook as you came on his dick.

He grunted from you clenching on him. He still fucked you through your orgasm as he felt hisself getting close. He pulled out and came on your stomach letting out a moan. 

“You did so good, princess” he said before placing a kiss on your forehead. You were still breathless at the activity you just finished. You then got up to pee and came back to your bed to see Billy laying his head on his arms.

“Can I sleep inside you tonight?” He asked as he grabbed your body softly. “What?” You asked as you then let out a giggle from his question.

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