#Ah. I only mentioned about the Madame this time but it's all the same for the Monsieur and two daughters too!

[tonycries]

The Heir - G.S.

Synopsis. No, your clan leader husband won’t stop until he gives you an heir. No, you don’t think you’ll make it out alive.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, clan leader! Gojo, established relationship, he’s cray-cray (for you), bréeding - like a LOT, oral (fem receiving), unprotected, creampíe, marathon, séx, running from it, use of “my wife”, overstim, FÉRAL Satoru, absolutely heinous, mentions of kníves and bIood, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.3k

A/N. Guess what ya girlie is back with clan leader Gojo hehe.

An heir to the Gojo clan - no matter how small, how weak - could eradicate all three of the big clans before even being born. Much like their father. 

You knew that. Satoru knew that. And, unfortunately for him, so did the stuck-up old toad currently sputtering across from him. 

“I am not asking for permission.” Satoru smiles, deathly calm. “Simply that everyone vacates the Estate. After all, what the madam wants, the madam shall get.”

“But- but young master! It’s madness- An heir can tip the scales of power like never before!” The elder lunges frantically over the meeting room table. “I cannot allow- a-and considering the madam’s lowly lineage-”

Schwing!

They say that the infamous young head of the Gojo clan has a katana as hauntingly beautiful as he is - a blade of pure white, with a sapphire hilt. Though, there wasn’t anyone left to tell the tale - and Satoru wasn’t about to let that change anytime soon. 

The long, deceptively delicate sword glints sharply against Satoru’s humorless grin, and those cold, cold eyes. Unblinking - crazed, as he hums, “What did you say about my wife?”

The man in front of him can do nothing but yelp in fear, “I- it could- the scale of ah-”

“No.” The freezing cold blade presses deeper against skin. And Satoru’s tutting, “Try again.”

“Th-the madam!” Pathetic tears stain those expensive tatami mats below, every shred of previous ego wiped away as the elder’s forced to echo his words. “It is no lie that her b-background is…unsuitable-”

Oh this was why Satoru hated these meetings - and for once in his life he’d been the one to summon it instead of being forced to attend. What a joke. If only this elder had agreed to vacate everyone in the Estate like he’d wanted, then none of this would’ve happened. Seriously, how hard was it to get some alone time with you? 

Satoru sighs, blue yukata rustling as he grips the hilt tighter. “Do you know why you’re here, advisor? Why any of you little council of elders are still here?” And he doesn’t wait for an answer - couldn’t care less about it anyway. Plowing on in that same sweet, dangerous tone - as if scolding a stubborn child, “My lovely wife is kind, you see. Too kind. Doesn’t like for me to get my hands dirty.”

He lets his arm retract slightly, as if giving up on the conversation topic at hand. And oh for all his wisdom, the elder should’ve known better than to let the silence lull into one of safety. Should’ve known better than to let out a breath of relief. Relaxing - ever-so-slightly, to be stupid enough to mutter, “S-see young master. I told- you-”

Because this was Gojo Satoru, and he’s chuckling - and that was never a good sign for anyone but you. “She’d make such a perfect mother, don’t you think?”

---

SLAM!

You startle - there was only ever one person that dared to kick open the doors of the Gojo Estate that way, like he was out for blood.

Eyes tearing from your window towards the now-splintered doorway and-

Oh. Oh shit. 

Your voice dies in your throat as the metallic tang of blood hits your nose - followed very shortly by the realization that this was your husband. Towering figure leaning against the frame, gaze frantic - bouncing off everywhere but you, fingers twitching on the stained handle of his katana, looking for all the world like he’d seen a ghost. 

What the fuck happened?

“Satoru?” you breathe. And the sound of your voice his eyes finally snap to you - widening, like he’d finally noticed your figure standing there. Like he was seeing you after a thousand years. Stepping forward in concern, “Are you o-”

You’ve barely made it two steps before Satoru’s closing the distance in a split-second, dropping to his knees before you with a harsh thump!

You wince at the sound, but if it hurt then he doesn’t show it. Anything but - in fact, looking more blissed out than you’ve ever seen him as he lets his prized katana clatter to the floor, looping two powerful arms around your waist.

And it’s times like this - when he nuzzles his cheek against your stomach, sighing in contentment - that you forget about those blossoming stains of red on his yukata. None of his, you bet. 

Threading your fingers through his soft hair, you repeat, “Are you okay, Toru?”

And oh. 

Oh, it only takes those words - and your sweet sweet voice - before Satoru’s entire body jolts. Taking a sharp inhale, fingers trembling as they clutch onto the fabric of your yukata. “An heir.” Words strained, ragged. Some deep, visceral part of himself peaking up at you through those hazy, half-lidded eyes, “Would you give me an heir, my wife?”

You weren’t making it out alive. 

You’re gasping - partially because of his words, partially because that’s all it takes for him to yank you down. Sprawling you out like such a slut on the floor. “Wha- an heir?”

It’s not something you expected him to even consider - that sleepy, quiet little pillowtalk from earlier today where you’d mindlessly wondered out loud whether your husband was ready for kids. Hell, Satoru was never a morning person, so you didn’t expect him to even have heard the question let alone this. 

Nosing at your racing pulse, whispering, “An heir. You think I’d ever deny you, pretty?” Like he couldn’t believe it himself - sharp canines nipping at your neck, “My heir.”

It’s like it was the only thing he could say - could even think about right now as his lips burned a path down your jaw, into the valley of your breasts. Muffled, “N’ now we have the Estate all to ourselves, so I can ruin you as much as I hah- want.”

And for the second time today, you’re actually registering that this wasn’t the same yukata your husband had kissed senseless in before the meeting. Or, at least, those patches of red were new.

“Satoru…” You pull his face back.

“No- no no please- Come back-” you squeal when he just drags you across the floor by the hips, pressing you up against that massive bulge, back to sloppily kissing the underside of your jaw. “Was jus’ one I swear- m’sorry about gettin’ the fabric dirty.”

“Satoru.”

“Wasn’t gonna break you where everyone could hear right?” 

And fuck he doesn’t wait to hear a response, no - it’s been far too long, and every little scold from you has all the blood in Satoru’s body rushing to his aching cock. His lips are crashing onto yours, so desperate and needy. 

“Sa-toru!” you manage to squeal through the way he sips at your candied lips. Letting out pained, breathless little grunts like each swipe of his tongue against your mouth was driving him insane. 

“Shhh shhh, m’here m’here.” he pants into your open mouth, hands wandering everywhere. Cupping your ass, your breasts, nudging open your jaw to let him suck so filthily on your tongue. “Fuck- m’here.” He’s licking up the drool pooling at the corner of your mouth already, “N’ m’gonna ruin-” One hand makes its way to palm your clothed cunt, “-her.”

But, alas, no matter how many times Satoru’s done this before - it never gets any easier, or as less heavenly of a sight for him. 

With you all disheveled and splayed out for him, your tits almost spilling out of your yukata with the way his hands have been so greedy. So thoughtless. 

Satoru groans, dipping his head forward to peck messily at your lips. “Mmm- ” Pulling back just enough to mutter, “Gonna let me breed this pretty cunt, hm?” 

It’s all you can do to give him a half-delirious little nod of agreement, lower lip wobbling at just how hungrily he was looking at you. Eyes wide, lips curling into a crazed smile, fingers trembling with anticipation as he deftly works on untying your robe. 

“Is my wife gonna give me a pretty baby?” He gasps out, strangled. “An heir?” He presses a sloppy peck to your glossy lips, strings of spit snapping when he breaks apart to whisper. “One to take out all these dumb fucks?” Again, so dizzyingly. And again. “Oh how I’d love to see their fuckin’ faces.” And again and again and again. Kisses punctuated by that little mantra - “An heir. My heir. I need you to give me a baby, pretty.”

And then your yukata’s being pulled down your shoulders, the expensive fabric ripping down the side with the way he was so ravenous. Goosebumps prickling down your skin as fast as Satoru can get his hands on every inch of you.

“Oh, look at you.” his jaw falls slack, palms kneading at your soft breasts. “Fuck- the mother of my kids.” He rolls his thumb over your hardened nipples, rubbing lazy little circles, “I need to- fuck!” 

Before you know it he’s pinning your arching body down onto the floor. One hand easily pinning down both of yours, the other angling your lips back onto his, a knee wedged between your damp thighs. 

You whine at the feeling of Satoru’s thigh rubbing up against your drenched panties.

But he could barely hear - fuck, you didn’t even know if Satoru was breathing with the way he wraps his pretty pink lips around one of your pert nipples. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, cheeks hollowing as he sucks - harsh.

“Need to fill these up- s’gonna be so sweet. So full.” he’s blabbering into your tits, tongue rolling around your sensitive nipples. Incessant, like he was somehow trying to draw out milk. “I can only hope they hah- share, right?”

You buck your hips up, mewling as your throbbing clit catches on the dips and curves of the muscles on Satoru’s leg. “P-please, Toru. Don’t tease.”

And oh, when has he ever denied you? Hell, Satoru would burn down this entire world and himself if it meant giving his wife anything and everything. Especially the future mother of his kids. 

With a final, playful bite, you watch with glassy eyes at the way he dances his lips down. Slow. Teasing. Eyes locked with you all the while like some sort of predator cornering his prey. 

“And this-” Satoru stops halfway down, pressing a deep, sultry kiss onto your bare stomach, “Oh this. Gonna be so round n’ pretty. Absolutely glowing f’me, right? Fuck!” 

Snapping his head down at the feeling of your grinding your hips so sluttily onto his legs, slick seeping through your panties and onto his skin. 

“Oh.” he sighs, awe-struck. More to himself than you at this point, “You can kill me if you’re not with my heir by the time we’re done, pretty.”

A promise.

And with it went whatever was left of Satoru’s poor sanity - and whatever pathetic chance there was of you making it out of this alive. 

Immediately, Satoru fists your flimsy panties in his grasp. So see-through they were practically useless anyway. Reveling in your panicked little gaze as he pulls - rips them clean off your dripping cunt. 

“Oh god- There we go.” he moans, hooking two arms underneath your legs and pushing up, up, up - all the way until your knees were pressing up against your tits. Your lips wobble when Satoru takes the time to admire your pussy, breaths coming out in feverish little puffs to watch the way you glisten and clench at nothing. Licking his lips - salivating even - at the sight of your slick beading through your puffy folds. He runs a thumb along your sopping wet slit, “Better wish her good luck tonight.”

And, usually, your husband was refined - he teased and toyed with your poor cunt until you were begging to have an ounce of friction. But right now, it’s a wonder he doesn’t get whiplash with how fast he’s pushing his face into your pussy.

“Mm-” Satoru’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his tongue laps at your dripping wet cunt. Tipping his head back, back, back to let your sweet sweet juices slide down his throat. “Fuck that. Even luck won’t save you from me- hah-”

“Toru!” you arch off the cool floor as he cards the tip of his tongue between your puffy folds. From the base of your sloppy entrance, all the way up to your throbbing clit. “Hngh- s’too-”

He was going too fast too soon. 

You whine at the palm pushing your unstable hips flat onto the ground, holding you still while Satoru licks all over as he pleases. “Now now, how are ya gonna ngh- fuck so sweet- handle later if ya can’t even handle this, pretty?”

Sucking on your clit in such a messy, open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck. Shouldn’t have told me about an heir.” he’s murmuring into your cunt. Harsh - rolling his tongue against the sensitive nub in a way he knows will have you crying out so prettily. “Fuuuck you shouldn’t h- oh- Ohhh, look at you, my wife.”, breathing in deep, ragged gasps of air only to go deeper. “Fuck- just look at you. You’re so wet I could fuck you just like this.”

As if to prove his point, he’s urgently bullying the tip of his tongue between your plushy walls. And it was true - so pathetically true. You take him in so easily. 

Somehow, you manage to crack an eye open to spy downwards - only to be met with Satoru’s eyes already on yours. Hazy, curtained by his messy hair, swollen lips curving up to flash you such a devilish grin as he squeezes his tongue past that feeble, first ring of resistance. In and out in and out in and-

“Ohh. Squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” His jaw grinds deeper, nose flush against your clit. “Ya like that idea? Like the thought of me p-painting ah- slutty pussy white already?”

Your embarrassed little whine isn’t enough of an answer for your husband. No, he’s pressing his fingers - all glossy and covered with a sheen of your slick - onto your pulsing clit. Just barely grazing in a way that has you crying out. 

Making out with your cunt so sloppily, “Tha’s more like it.” Heavy eyes boring into yours - goading, even, for you to give more of a reaction. “Fuck- use those words, pretty. Scream.” Satoru’s fucking into your sloppy hole the way he’s been dreaming to do with his rock-hard cock. “After all, we h-have the Estate all to ourselves, right?”

Faster. Sloppier. 

Pushing and pulling his tongue in a way that has you sobbing, “Yes! Please- wan’- ngh” Thighs squeezing around Satoru’s fervent head, “W-wan you to jus’ breed me, Toru-”

Oh.

Fuck, you might’ve just signed your will away at this point. 

Because in a split-second, you’re cumming. 

Shit, were you glad that there was no one in the house. Sobbing out a broken whine of his name, fingers white-knuckled on Satoru’s hair while you gush all over his pretty face. Just dragging your sloppy cunt all over his mouth - using him through your high. 

And he’s more than happy to be dragged and angled all you please. Greedily lapping up your syrupy sweet juices, just dipping his tongue into your hole to feel the way you clench around him. 

But it’s not long before Satoru’s pulling away. Swallowing a disappointed whine, you gape up at the absolutely feral man looming above you. 

Lips plump and glossy, your juices dripping all the way down his chin, his jaw. Teeth bared, a pretty pink blush dusting over those cheeks - and you have half the mind to wonder how high the kill count actually is. Whether you’d be on it, too. 

“Heh, kill count?” Satoru grins, teeth grazing so dangerously over your racing pulse. Shit, did you say that out loud? “Funny, real funny.” And with that, he’s thumbing apart your swollen folds, biting his lips at the sight of your quivering hole. “Wonder if our- hah- kid’s gonna have your-” Without warning, he spits. Once. Twice. Gliding the pads of his fingers along the thick globs of spit on your cunt, “-humor?”

And oh how ironic it was for Satoru to be groaning out sweet little spiels of what your kids might look like, when his fingers were anything but. 

Stretching out your gummy entrance, having the audacity to laugh - laugh - at how desperately your pussy was trying to milk his fingers. 

“Y-you’re so mean-”

“And yer killin’ me- ohhh you’re gonna be the death of me.” he mutters - strained. Depraved. Hastily pushing apart his yukata. He hisses, “Fuck-”

You can’t help but gasp at the sinful sight before you - Satoru’s blush reaches down his sculpted chest, down, down, down all the way to his painfully hard cock. Curved against his abs, already so angry and soaked with precum. Giving you a pretty little peak of those veins glistening against the dim lighting. 

Before you even know what’s happening, he’s circling his fat, weepy head around your sloppy hole. Slow, lazy patterns to tease your cunt. “Can only pray m’not dead before I see ngh- fuck- my heir.”

It’s like something breaks. And Satoru’s remembering that no, this isn’t just any child - it’s the next Gojo. That grip on the base of his swollen cock tightening when he slips past your pussy lips. 

“Oh! Toru- f-fuck wait s’too big-” you keen, nails digging into where his yukata was sliding off his milky, sculpted shoulders. Hard enough to break skin. “It’s ah-”

“No.” he spits into your sagging mouth. “No no no no- wait fuck- ngh squeezing so fucking- tight.” Hips pushing in quick, shallow little thrusts to squeeze more of his achy head inside. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck hold on. Need this. Need this so bad- please!”

And you can’t do anything but arch into his touch, scrambling up onto your elbows to- shit, that was a bad idea. 

Because one look at the sight of your poor cunt, all bulging and stretched out on Satoru’s massive cock was enough to have you running away. 

You’d barely made a movement to escape, feet flattening on the floor to buck your hips because shit it was too much. And it was a useless effort, anyway, because Satoru’s dragging you back so easily, pulling your limp body deeper down his swollen cock. 

“Need this. Need this need this so bad, pretty.” he groans, barely even halfway in yet. Still pushing, still relentless. “Need to breed this cunt so bad.”

Some tiny, useless part of Satoru’s rationality knows that he should slow down - maybe give you a second to relax. To maybe even breathe. But he was out of control now, hips stuttering and wrenching forwards like he couldn’t stop. 

So he’s simply gripping onto your shaky thighs harder, sure to leave neat little indents of his nails to admire tomorrow - or, whenever he gets back his sanity, that is. 

Satoru hisses at the way you’re so pliant below him. Limp, letting him rest your legs on his muscled shoulders. “Think I needa manhandle ya more often, pretty.” Pressing down, down - all the way until you were folded in half beneath him in such a mean mating press. “Can’t- can’t stop-”

The change in angle makes you scream out Satoru’s name - and it makes him bottom out. Finally. 

Fuck, you weren’t making it out alive.

“Oh.” he grunts at the feeling of his heavy balls smacking against your ass, his fat, leaky tip kissing against your cervix. God, if Satoru was any less of a man he thinks he could’ve cum just from the feeling of you trying to suck him up already. 

“Oh- oh my god-” you gasp when he presses down about halfway down your stomach, Pressing down for that bulge, hard. “You’re in s-so deep ngh- S’like you’re pushing into my ngh- lungs.”

Fuck, if you talked any more with that pretty mouth then Satoru was bound to pass out. Blindly, he’s feeling for your pouty mouth, kissing and nibbling at your wobbling lips like a subconscious apology. For what was to come, that is.

Because Satoru Gojo spares no apologies when he starts moving - finally. Finally fucking you the way he’s been dreaming of all throughout that droning meeting. 

And he says so - a little over fifteen times, in fact, while he splits you apart on his cock. 

“-n’ when I was negotiating those ngh- c-clan deals. N’ when I was at that meeting-” he gasps, shoving your legs so far apart it burned. “S’all I could hah- think of. Everything - don’t give a fuck if I got a contract wrong.”

Each word was punctuated by a rough, harsh ram of his cock, stretching out your gummy walls so far apart like he wanted to make his mark there. Pushing - even when he could feel his aching tip nudging at your cervix.

So merciless - violent even - with the way he’s slamming back into you. Molding your plushy walls to every ridge and curve of his massive cock. It was impossible to even form coherent sentences with his harsh pace. 

A large hand flattens beside your head as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper. More purposeful. You almost sob at the sheer pressure when he dances his fingers down to rub quick, methodical little circles on your clit. “Toru-” you moan, like a prayer. “M-more.”

But it wasn’t enough.

“More.” Satoru breathes, more to himself than anything. And shit at that very moment you almost understood why even the most hardened of clan leaders feared to even look at Gojo Satoru wrong. Because he was giving you a sopping, fucked-out smile, eyes widened, voice trembling, “You want more?”

And of course this was the strongest. Of course, he was ruthless. 

Of course, it takes him exactly two seconds to pull out of your heavenly cunt and flip you onto your stomach. One hand coming under you to angle your hips up until you were on all fours - like some ragdoll. The other feverish, distracting on your clit while he bullies his achingly hard cock past your sopping entrance once more. 

“Fuck!” your voice is hoarse when you scream. Teeth gritting because fuck the stretch was too sinful and Satoru’s hips were too harsh. Too hellbent on fucking into you like he’d lost control. “O-oh please, Toru-”

He doesn’t waste time easing you into it this time, picking up where he left off with that maddening cadence. And you were glad he had an arm on your hips because your knees were weakening with each thrust, slowly sliding down the floor before-

“Aw, my poor girl.” you hear Satoru coo from above you. Muscled chest rubbing up against your back, “S’alright. M’gonna take care of it. You jus’ hafta take it- jus’ take it like the good lil’ wife you are.” his body bows into yours, strands of white sticking to his forehead. “N’ I’ll take fuck fuck fuck- care of everything.” So sloppy with his rhythm, pushing you further and further up the floor with each movement - only to reel you right back so easily. “I’ll wash ‘em and hah- clothe ‘em n’ t-teach ‘em to take over this godforsaken society. To protect their momma.”

“T-Toru-” you squeal as he only gets more erratic. “I’m…”

“Hm?”

He didn’t even have to ask - he could feel the way you were squeezing so hard around him, like you were trying to suck the fucking soul out of him. The way the only thing you could get out was his name. 

His perfect wife. 

Sobbing out, “Close! So close. Wan’ cum- Ah! Please-”

He was losing his fucking mind. 

Biting down so hard at the crook of your neck to keep himself from cumming before you, he moans deliciously, “Then cum. Fucking cum. Please- wan’ you to cum on my cock.” Wrists aching with how desperate he was moving, “Cum- yeah yeah yeah fucking- cum- Cum for your husband.”

Oh, if heaven was real then whatever was left of that part of Satoru that could still form coherent thoughts knew that this was it. 

Watching you fall apart like such a slut all over his cock. Not even realizing it at first - just that your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, swollen lips falling slack, letting out such a pretty cry of his name that he can’t help but cum, too. 

You don’t know who’s more far gone - you, with your head spinning, a lewd little ah! ah! ah! leaving your mouth each time Satoru fucks you through your high. 

Or him, gushing out in thick, hot ropes of cum that overspill from your snug cunt. 

“So muchhh.” you whine, heavy head being held up by your husband. “S’too much.”

And he knew what you were talking about - because Satoru was cumming and cumming and cumming so hard it was like he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop. Because he was mesmerized by that creamy trail of white drooling down your folds, forming an obscene ring at those tufts of white at his base. 

“Too much?” Satoru hisses. “Too much?”

You can only give a barely-lucid nod, whimpering when he doesn’t ease up. Not one bit, in fact, Satoru was only abandoning the hand playing with your ravaged clit to press down on your abdomen. Hard. 

“There we hah- go. Better now?” The hand supporting your head forced you to look down below, at the sticky mess of white covering your cunt. Slobbering all over Satoru’s cock - even down to his thighs. “Now we got fuck- more space.”

You don’t even realize you’re scrambling away until Satoru gasps, panicked, “No no no- we’re not done, pretty. Fuckkk we’re far from done.” Fingers tightening around your neck to pull you deeper down his cock, holding you in place. Just dragging you along his length. “Gotta make sure it takes. Why else d’you think no one in the Estate will be back until tomorrow?”

He doesn’t wait for a response - not that you could give one, anyway, with how you were being fucked dumb on his cock again. 

A strong, powerful leg hooks around yours, pushing you down with his body weight. “So that we ngh- h-have enough time to prepare for my heir.” Weeping head grazing all those sensitive spots so expertly. “T-to plan and and- ruin you and- fuck you feel so good. They’ll be the most powerful- hah- jus’ watch. Those fuckers better w-wait and see.”

So debauched and fucked-out that you don’t even know what he’s running his mouth about now, just heavy, urgent words slurred into your neck while he fucks you just as sloppily. 

“Don’t know?”

Fuck. You said it out loud again. 

And the embarrassing realization has your eyes screwing open, gazing tearily back at an amused Satoru. Well, as amused as he could be when he was just as wrecked as you. 

Kissing your sweaty forehead, hips reeling back all the way until your cunt was missing the stretch - bucking traitorously against the fat mushroom tip grazing your entrance. Making a mess of precum down below.

“S’alright, pretty.” he groans, sandwiching his cock between your puffy folds. “Because you just have to sit there n’ ngh- take- it.”

If you thought that Satoru was broken before then he was absolutely ruined now. 

Because there was no reason or rhythm to his actions now - just mindless, feral movements to milk his cock as much as he physically could on your pussy. Running only on pure need and the thought of you round and so full with his kid. 

“Ah!” you’re startled out of your reverie by something wet. Whirling sluggishly to catch the tears of overstimulation brimming at Satoru’s heavy eyes - shit, you wondered if he even knew what he was doing at this point. “T-Toru…you- ngh- o-okay?”

The only response you get is an unsteady nod. 

“-the best.” he whispers, twitching balls squeezing so painfully with each slap against your ass. Faster. Absolutely soaked with the sinful concoction of your juices and his cum. “We’ll be the best parents- ngh-” And fuck it was so much - too much. Too good. Painful pleasure.

Enough that all it takes is another, sloppy thrust before he’s seeing stars behind his eyes again. Cock twitching wildly inside your cunt as Satoru shoots load after load of cum to paint your pussy white. 

So warm with his cum - him - that Satoru’s body moves before his mind. Pooling the mess down below to nudge back into your cunt. “C’mon, pretty, c-can’t get ngh pregnant if ya don’t oh- cum.”

And it’s so embarrassing how that’’s all it takes for you to reach your high with a strained, barely audible moan. Voice shot, your own orgasm nothing but a few tingles that have your thighs fucking back into Satoru’s. 

“Satoru- Satoru Satoru Satoru.” you mewl, big fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Birds of a feather, they say. 

Hypnotized. Drunk off the feeling.

And, evidently, Satoru was, too. 

“Pretty…” his voice rings in your ear. Tinged with a tone you know didn’t bode well for you - or your poor, overfilled cunt. Bloated and dribbling already. “Are- sure- ngh-” 

And with a jolt, you realize he’s still moving. Still pushing and pulling in languid, slow strokes. Thighs shaking as the fatigue wears on him. 

If anyone saw Satoru like this, they’d have a heart attack. Flushed your favorite shade of pink, the lower half of his body well covered with a sheen of your obscenities. Eyes teary with sensitivity, cock still twitching and so angry as he clears his throat and tries again, “Are we- hah- sure it took?”

“Wh-what-” you gasp, breathing in big, deep inhales. “Yes- yes yes- oh my god it’won’t-”

“It will.” Satoru’s interruption almost comes out as a whine. And he’s more sluggish, dazed when he flips you over onto your back again - not too difficult, with the way you were practically splayed out already. “Th-this pussy is made to take it, right? T-to be bred by me?”

It’s almost like Satoru was begging for confirmation, plugging back in the excess of what was leaking out of your abused pussy. It was spreading in a lewd little pool now, seeping into the non-existent space between you two.

But oh how Satoru loved it. Couldn’t tear his eyes off of it, in fact as he noses at your neck. Barely even thrusting anymore, just raw grinds, “Right? Gotta make sure- ngh- heir. Oh-”

He’s darting his tongue out to lick at the beads of tears streaming down your cheek. The salty taste on his tongue having Satoru’s hips stuttering forwards. Again. And again - alternating, not on purpose - between hitting your cervix and that bruised g-spot. “Gonna give me an heir? Ohhh fuck fuck fuck- lemme breed this cunt?”

You’re using up every bit of energy left in your body to give that slow, shallow nod. Which is all the time it takes for the pool to spread even wider. For Satoru’s fingers to stumble their way back to play with your clit. 

Rolling his thumb over in a harsh, uncalculated pattern - if you could even call it that, just jerky, obscene movements to get you off. 

And it works. Hell, the two of you are barely in the state of mind to even feel it. But he’s finally cumming again, and so are you. 

“Ngh- Fuck-”

With a loud, pained cry Satoru tightens his grip on your body like a vice. Raw, sensitive, overusing his cock until it felt so empty. Until you felt so bloated it was like you could explode - or maybe that was your own orgasm. “Toru- c-cumming.”

You’re not sure, anymore. And you don’t know if either of you could bring yourselves to care at this moment, not when your eyelids grow heavy. Vision tinging with black in the corners, and the only thing you could see was your husbands face - sweaty, eyes almost closed, kiss-bitten lips moving in a soundless whisper.  “-the best- momma.”

A/N. CLAN LEADER GOJO SAVE MEE. Oh yeah the “can’t get pregnant without the momma cumming” bit was based on this old tale I’d heard where people used to gen believe that. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[writtenbymoonflower]

Can we have a Poly!Marauders x Quiddich Player Reader, Where she falls and breaks a bone and tries to hide it from the boys? That would be so great <3

thanks for requesting gorgeous!! poly!marauders x fem!reader

cw: mentions of injury/bruises

1.1k words

“I was able to heal the bone, but it will be a bit sore for a bit. Try to take it easy for about a day or so. Some bruising is normal, but keep an eye on it. If anything looks concerning, don’t hesitate to come back in, okay?” Madame Pomfrey slathered some unknown mixture over the inflamed skin on your shoulder.

“Okay.” That seemed to be the only word you had said in the past half hour, eager to leave the hospital wing.

“This bandage should help with the swelling.” The nurse explained as she wrapped long strips of white cloth around your chest, then crossing over your shoulder. You glanced at the clock anxiously, seeing it was now 10 minutes past when you were usually back at your boyfriend’s dorm.

“Thank you so much, Miss.” you said politely, putting your clothes back on. She patted your good shoulder as you hurried out into the corridor.

You changed clothes in your room before going to the Gryffindor common room. It was now late afternoon, when most of the house members were outside enjoying the nice weather, or inside the library studying. You heard the ruckus of the three boys immediately after you stepped through the portrait hole.

“Hey sweetheart! We were just about to look for you, we were getting worried.” James looked thrilled to see you, if not a little concerned.

“Sorry, practice ran late.” You fibbed, worrying your lower lip with your fingers. You hoped the collar of your sweater was efficiently hiding the bandages.

“That’s okay lovie, come sit.” James scooted over, creating a space between himself and Remus (who had Sirius curled on his lap like a cat, arm held over his eyes like a damsel in distress).

“Practice go okay?” Remus asked cooly, flipping the page of his novel.

“Yeah. It was alright.” You really wished the topic would just change.

“Modest as ever, dolly. Marlene was watching for a bit. She said you kicked ass.” Sirius chuckled. You winced. If she saw you fall she definitely would’ve told the boys. You gave Sirius a nervous smile. He lowered his arm to look at you suspiciously.

James squeezed your shoulder, making pain fizzle down your arm, but you kept your face stoic. You leant back into his chest as you let them return to their previous conversation. Your eyes were closed, listening to the vibration of James’ laughter.

You were almost asleep when you were jolted back to reality, in the form of Sirius grabbing your legs and tugging them towards him.

“Ah! Siri!” You gasped. Your legs were now across Sirius’ lap (technically also Remus’) and your head landed in James’.

“Gentle, love.” Remus chided the boy in his lap.

“She was so far away.” Sirius pouted pathetically. You lifted your head to look at him blankly.

“We are literally on the same couch.”

“That’s not close enough! I want you inside my skin!” Sirius whined. He all but flung himself off of Remus’ lap and on top of you. You squealed.

“Christ! Pads! You’re lucky I spend so much time in the gym. Not everyone could handle your roughhousing.” James scolded but his voice was laced heavily with fondness.

“Not the only reason I’m lucky.” He waggled his dark eyebrows at the curly-haired boy before he nuzzled his face right into your neck. On any other occasion you would giggle and squirm, but because of your injury, you groaned and your face screwed up in pain. You tried to hide it but unfortunately Remus had a perfectly unobstructed view of your face.

“Padfoot. Off.” Remus (gently) pulled Sirius off of you. Clearly his tone indicated that he wasn’t joking, because you heard no protests. James stroked your still tensed face.

“Shit! Did I hurt you, baby?” Sirius knelt by the couch, patting you down to look for injury. You winced again when he reached your chest. You shook your head.

“No, no. I’m fine. I’m just a little sore from practice ‘s all.” You tried to shove the boys off but it was no use.

“Let’s have a look.” Remus wasn’t having any of it.

“Oh, it’s really fine.” You floundered, but he still stuck his long fingers into your collar, pulling it down to expose your clavicle. James gasped when he saw the white of the bandages.

“Sweetheart!” James pressed his fingers into the top of the wrap and you hissed. “What happened here?”

“I just got a little banged up.” You moved to sit up but you were gently pushed back down.

“Off with the sweater, dove.”

“If you wanted me to strip, Lupin you didn’t have to go through all this fuss.”

He just rolled his eyes. You complied begrudgingly. The boys all hissed at the sight. Tight bandages digging into your skin, discoloration painting the edges.

“That’s more than a little banged up, lovely girl.” James stroked your head. His tone was light in the way it is when he’s especially worried.

“Did you fall onto the tracks and get hit by the fucking Hogwarts Express?” Sirius asked incredulously.

“It’s not that bad. It’s all healed anyway, just a little tender.” You reassured.

“Did you go to the hospital wing?” Remus asked plainly. You inhaled deep, knowing the reaction you were going to get.

“Yes.” You sighed. “It’s fine. It was a little fracture but she healed it.”

“Baby!” Sirius pinched your thigh hard. “You went to the hospital for this and you weren’t going to tell us?”

“Well… yeah. Because it’s all healed now.” You said as if it was obvious.

“That doesn’t mean you keep it a secret you muppet.” James scolded. He still leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“I wasn’t keeping it a secret! I just didn’t want to make it a big deal.” Remus handed your sweater back to you and you sat up to shrug it on.

“That’s why you lied to us and said practice ran late, when you were actually getting treated for a broken bone?” Remus quirked a brow at you. You suddenly felt small.

“Sorry.” You looked down. He hooked a finger under your chin, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, baby dove. But I need you to tell us if you get hurt, yeah? It’s important. It’s our job to keep you safe. You need to let us do that, okay?” His brown eyes were warm, but commanding in the way only Remus could accomplish.

“Okay.” You nodded. He tapped your chin with his knuckle.

“Attagirl. Now c’mere.” He tugged you into him, your face against his sweater. Sirius climbed into James’ lap and snuggled into him. The bespectacled boy whispered something in his ear.

“I might have to take a tumble if it will get Moons to look at me like that.”

[shanastoryteller]

Happy happy birthday 🎂🎉🥳 As always, I’d love some more of thee MDZS Identity Porn (with the masks and LWJ getting jealous of all of his husband’s “husbands”) (Or JC traveling back in time?) Thanks!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Lan Wangji wouldn't have categorized Jiang Yanli as chatty, but tonight there's really no other way to describe her. She talks at length about Lotus Pier, about the Jiang clansmen and her immediate family. That would be one thing, but she seems to forget that they don't have the same familiarity with these subjects that she does, mentioned names and places carelessly, as if they already have context for these things.

He doesn't know why Wei Wuxian would care about the minutia of Lotus Pier, but Jiang Yanli holds his complete attention. More than that, there are several moments when he has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing and at various points his smile can only be equaled to what he looks like when he's holding his children. If his husband looked at him with a tenth of that adoration, Lan Wangji doesn't think he'd have a complaint.

He prompts her to continue whenever she trails off, because as much as he wishes that he held Wei Wuxian's heart, he can't deny him the bittersweet happiness that conversing with Jiang Yanli seems to bring him. Lan Wangji should not be greedy. He knows the Patriarch's face, his voice, his affection. He's his husband and helping raise his children. It is not appropriate for him to want more than the abundance he already has.

It's nearing the end of the banquet, where mingling and drinking will take place and propriety won't allow Jiang Yanli to hold Wei Wuxian in place. She looks at him with a desperation that makes Lan Wangji feel bad for Jin Zixuan. "You know," she says softly, "years ago, before the war, before - a lot of things, I lost my younger brother."

Wei Wuxian goes completely, utterly still. Lan Wangji stares - as far as he knows Madame Yu has only ever had two children and Sect Leader Jiang is notoriously faithful, regardless of the state of his marriage.

"He wasn't mine by blood," she continues, as if answering Lan Wangji's thoughts. "But we grew up with him and A-Cheng and I couldn't think of him any other way. He was our first disciple and he and A-Cheng used to go off together all the time - but on our way to Cloud Recess, they got in trouble, and he led that trouble away so Jiang Cheng could escape and we never saw him again."

Lan Wangji remembers now. He heard about this then, remembers how Jiang Cheng's attitude had been near intolerable that summer. His heart sinks.

His husband can reanimate the dead, but not like this, there's nothing he can do for Jiang Yanli's long dead little brother.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he says to her.

She glances at him for only a moment, but when Wei Wuxian maintains his silence, her shoulders drop and she says, "Thank you," but it comes out more subdued than anything else had tonight.

Later, when they've retired to their room and he hopes Wen Qing and Meng Yao have done the same, and they're lying in the same bed with the darkness and the quiet between them, Wei Wuxian says, "He wasn't Jiang Cheng's younger brother."

Lan Wangji, just on the cusp of sleep, blinks several time until he feels more awake. "Excuse me?"

"The - the first disciple, of the Jiang," he continues, sounding very awake himself as he lies with his hands behind his head and stares at the ceiling. "The way she said it, it sounded like he was younger than Jiang Cheng, but he wasn't. He was older. Jiang Cheng was the youngest one."

"Ah," Lan Wangji says finally, "I see."

"Yeah," Wei Wuxian answers nonsensically, then looks over and offers him a weak grin. "Sorry. Never mind. Get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow."

"Yes," he says, but it takes a long time for either of them to get to sleep.

[rax-writes]

Rolan x Reader

↬ Warnings: afab!reader, she/her pronouns for reader, mentions of breastfeeding and some old coot being uppity about it, protective!Rolan

↬ This is the brain rot result of @drizztdohurtin and I discussing proective!Rolan. Hope y'all enjoy, Rolan Nation. Love y'all. ♡

Sorcerous Sundries was thronged with customers, and it seemed every one of them had a question they only wished to ask the Master of the Tower himself. Rolan did well with maintaining his pleasant demeanor, even after he finished speaking to the third person in a row who struggled with the somatic components of simple spells. Regardless of how trivial the questions, or how dense the customers, Rolan thoroughly enjoyed his job. After all, this was everything he'd dreamed of, and more.

The company he kept in the shop area of the Sundries on this particular day helped as well.

Naturally, the brief moment to himself was snatched away by a customer approaching Rolan – albeit looking considerably more agitated than the others, but not a sight he was unfamiliar with.

Ah, the joys of customer service.

“I'd like to speak with the manager of this establishment,” the middle-aged woman stated, the deep frown set upon her features making her wrinkles all the more noticeable.

“You're looking at him. How might I assist you?” Rolan asked calmly, giving her the same kind smile he gives everyone in the Sundries.

“I have been here many times over the past few decades, and never before have I had any concerns about the atmosphere or decorum. Until today. And I must say, I am downright appalled.”

Rolan's smile faded. Gods, had Cal or Lia gotten cross with a rude customer and swore at them? Or maybe something simpler – like one of the newer employees guided her in the wrong direction?

“I am grateful you have come to me about this, so that I have the opportunity to right whatever wrong has occurred. Could you tell me more about what happened?” Rolan asked sincerely.

“Yes. I simply cannot believe the indecency you would allow in a place of such esteemed business. For the sake of the gods, that – that harlot over there is lounging about, exposed.”

Rolan's brows furrowed in genuine confusion, as he swiveled his entire body around to examine the space. The only person seated, on the entire ground floor, was you. His wife. Who just so happened to be breastfeeding his son.

You smiled at him when you caught his eye, confused when he did not return it. Instead, your husband's expression soured, before he returned his attention to the woman in front of him.

“Are you referring to the woman on the settee, feeding her baby?”

“Why, yes I am. That is indecent. She should be covered up, or in a washroom. Or, better yet, she should have left and gone home to do that!”

“She is here because this is her home,” Rolan said, slowly and carefully, attempting to conceal the intense irritation he felt. The woman appeared confused, until Rolan spoke again. “Ignoring the fact that she is the Hero of Baldur's Gate, and you should show her due respect – she is my wife, and she is feeding my son. I hardly see how that is indecent.”

“Well, she – it – that isn't something she should be doing in public! You ought to tell her to go elsewhere,” the woman sputtered, crossing her arms.

“The only person I'll be telling to go elsewhere is you, madam.” The woman sputtered some more, alternating between halved arguments and requests for forgiveness, but Rolan merely held up a hand, effectively silencing her. “Please leave this establishment at once. Should you wish to return with a kinder demeanor, you are welcome here. If not, do not bother coming back. Have the day the gods see fit to bestow upon you.”

Rolan turned on his heel and walked away then, noticing the woman huffing but leaving from his peripheral vision, as he made his way over to you. He sat beside you on the settee, a beaming smile quickly replacing his scowl as you handed him the baby, having just finished feeding and burping him.

“What was all that about? That woman looked positively irate,” you inquired with a chuckle.

Rolan merely shook his head, placing a gentle kiss between the still-tiny nubs of his son's horns, then giving you a quick kiss.

“Nothing of importance, my love.”

[revserrayyu]

Real quick Wardance thoughts [part 1]

**SPOILERS** for the majority of the event up until the winner is decided. That sounds like a whole lot to cover all at once but I’m not gonna delve too deep into anything like I have a habit of doing during main story quests. I thought the event was good and there were many moments I enjoyed, but I’ll admit that I skimmed through the bulk of it, so just take this as a quick speed run of random thoughts I had while finishing the whole thing last week.

So please tell me I’m not the only one who noticed that they finally fixed Oleg’s mouth now when he speaks?? No longer can I tease him about being a telepath. He had actual mouth movement this time!

Geppie is such a good boy. I sorta figured we would be facing a losing battle against him as Luka since he’s the literal definition of a tank, but it was of sweet of him to give us a chance to travel to the Xianzhou regardless of how this fight ended. Yeah it makes sense he can’t really put his Captain duties on hold just to travel to a whole other world, but the nice gesture is still appreciated.

I’m so happy that parts of this mission were voiced as it allows us to hear some of our old Belobogian friends again, such as Natasha, Bronya, Lynx, etc. (It’s just my luck that Serval nor Seele, who are no doubt my two favorites from this place, get not one single line throughout the entire story.. but I digress.)

I gotta survive off crumbs of just mere mentions of these favorites instead. It was fun hearing Bronya trying to intimidate Seele’s speech though.

They teased us with Owlbert appearing in the main 2.5 story by Hoolay suddenly stirring up chaos, but it’s nice to actually hear our reliable host in game, even if only from a puppet. Perhaps we can see the real bird one day. Playable Owlbert when, Hoyo?

Now.. how exactly does our boy Luka know what Cocolia looked like? He’s been in the Underground his whole life and madam had (unfortunately) ceased to exist by the time he had the chance to visit the Overworld. Heck, Luka wasn’t even around during the main Belobog story, since he was doing Wildfire work somewhere else. I can imagine that maybe Seele or others told Luka about her (for whatever reason, I dunno), or perhaps he caught sight of a portrait in the museum, though he’s not too keen on visiting the Overworld in the first place, if his voiceline about the place is anything to go by. Oh well, it was just a real accurate and powerful hallucination anyways.

Poor Owlbert. Can’t even be spared from an angry, defeated Topaz despite her love of animals.

Actually Topaz, the term is “going all in,” as Aventurine likes to say. Haha, I tease, but it makes sense that our gambler went total boss mode in Penacony then.

Luka and Sushang are the same kind of silly and stupid. It’s delightful.

I am holding every tiny fact about Seele carefully in my hands and cherishing it fondly. And if Luka knows this, does that mean was he around when it happened? Surely he had teased her about it. Dude is lucky he’s still alive and well.

First we spoke a *Nameless profanity* in Penacony, and now there’s a *Xianzhou profanity.* I love it. Where’s the one for Belobog? And can we please hear Seele say it? If we could get someone to just say "fuck" once, it better come from her.

Ah.. a lack of censorship would make Boothill more enjoyable for me too, but I understand why we have it. At least the anger towards Owlbert is on brand.

Boothill certainly wasn’t messing around during this match huh. The loss really put Luka’s head in a bad place though. I forget exactly how his arm was repaired, either IPC assistance or something else, but dang, wouldn’t this have been a wonderful opportunity to bring in our lovable mechanic Serval into the story to fix his arm instead? Huh, Hoyo? (shh, I’m just missing her. leave me be.)

There was this on random npc standing on the railing overlooking the arena who had an abundance of confidence that I just found humorous, especially with us mentioning Acheron’s habit of getting lost.

The whole scene with Margie inside Luka’s mind was so rough. His companion quest was sad enough already, did we really need to experience heartbreak again??

Luka, please.. no. Who taught you about rizz?? Was it Argenti? That dude can charm almost everyone, even plants.

Tee-hee, hiiii Yukong~ Wonderful to see you again, madam. I know I’m skipping on so many other things, but this mission was longer than I had expected, so it’s safe to say that I haven’t any clear memories what was happening right now. Something about a disguised borisin with a robot partaking in the tournament. But our favorite pilot is also here now. So that’s all I cared about, clearly.

I know it was sweet of Hook to come along on trip and support her fellow Mole member in the tournament but it is so odd not seeing Clara at Svarog’s side. Surely our friendly robot could’ve watched over two kids as once. (it’s fine though because I did a random ten pull on the standard banner while completing this mission and got myself E1 Clara. so at least she’s safe.)

Rappa mention! I can’t wait til we learn more abut her. (Saw quick leaks of her combat already and it’s quite a sight. They keep upping the ult animations for sure.)

While I was completely fine with the idea of us taking out all of Yanqing’s 99 barriers during the fight, I was surprised to see the cutscene switch up and have the two finalists really partake in hand to hand combat instead.

At first I thought, “yeah, fire. That makes sense for Luka,” until I remembered this dude is a physical character and fire is only part of his design. I assume he can still use flames with his mechanical arm, but he’s just using his regular one at the moment, not the big red one he wields during actual combat. I dunno how this man’s arm works exactly, but it was still a cool shot and an expert dodge by Yanqing.

Speaking of our young man, he did so well during this cutscene! Was not expecting him to be so skilled with throwing hands either, so to be evenly matched with Luka, who mainly uses his fists for fighting, is impressive nonetheless. Yanqing did of course give the victory to Luka though, which is fine.

Aawwhh.. and what if we all cried?

That’s all for now. There is gonna be a second part only because the Yaoqing trio shows up at the very end and I have many feelings about them but overall, this was some good stuff for Luka. Maybe he’ll show up in the main story one day aside from all this optional stuff.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

OMG! I've just read your latest post about an Overlord and I am so psyched! Are you going to continue the route of the Y/N being Ainz's twin sister? If so, what would the human characters of the anime would react when they see Y/N and witnessed her strength?

The Flower of Nazarick meets Humans | Yandere Overlord 

If you referring to the Madam Butterfly Sister Reader your interactions are very similar to Ainz disguising yourself to become a hero and it's a collective sense of forlorn admiration. As his twin, it doesn’t leave a lot for you two to get much of a different reaction. Now in my first original reader, where you aren’t exactly related by blood, you have a built-in buff where characters below a certain level naturally are drawn to you and become hopelessly obsessed with you. All humans typically fall under this scope and even in disguise your power isn’t truly impeded:

Enri Enmot

She was bewildered by Lupisregina’s reaction to hearing that you’d be visiting

Squeezing her legs, breathing erratically while pulling at her braids

When it was explained that you were on the same level as Ainz

She could hardly imagine what it’d be like when you arrived without your veil

A case study Ainz wanted to trial your effect on others

“A-ah y-you must be (User)-sama! Thank you for gracing this village with your wonderfulness!”

She can hardly come down from the high she got being around you

Granted she was able to snap out of it to shoo order her goblins away

Your beauty has her heating up in places she’d rather not

‘A true paragon of beauty…a flower hardly captures your eminence!’

Not to mention your kindness to everyone in the village

Allowing them to feed to you

And interact in playful banter

It feels like a knife pulled out when you’re escorts signal your departure

Carne Village is in emotional shambles

Their only saving grace is the letter of appreciation you left behind

She almost wants to keep it from them but her better half stops her

“Oh…yeah…we have to go on, right? Make this place a better place for them to come visit, right?”

Nfirea Bareare

He knew it was you, the masked visitor that spoke to Momonga

Even then he didn’t understand why he kept dreaming of your muffled voice 

But he knew now 

Now that you showed yourself without the mask he now felt true love

“Y-yes (User)-sama! W-whatever you need! I’ll happily make it for you! S-sorry!” 

He’s a blushing mess around you all the time

But since Ainz gave the all-clear with him he’s been gifted a touch of your ungloved hand

He nearly ejaculated right there

He is beside himself with how little he can handle you 

Thanks to Enri he gets a little more confidence when you’re eyes look at him

Not to mention they both seem to bond over you together like never before

In more ways than one

He helps Enri when her compassion  in sharing you is shaken

He gets the feeling

“M-maybe we can keep some of the letters to ourselves, right? As the leader, you we can keep our little secret. It is your our duty after all.”

Climb

Meeting you in your disguised form

he may never see your face unmasked

But he doesn’t need to

He’s already smitten 

Whether he witnessed you fighting playing or just dodging expertly 

He admires you beyond a simple squire

He blushes at just the sound of your name

enduring this when he reports to his princess what you did in your stay in E-Rantel

“T–they were radiant, as always but today…hah~they complimented m-my bravery, Princess.”

“What was it like? How did it feel?” 

“I-it was like being burned, cursed to replay their voice whenever they’re gone. B-but in the moments we shared it was like an inferno in my heart and my cheeks S-sorry Princess I spoke too much!”

“No no, all is well. I greatly appreciate it.”

Princess Renner Theiere Chardelon Ryle Vaiself

Knew something was different immediately when she saw you 

Immediately turning away to smile her true smile as she reveled in the pure obsession being ignited within her

On a constant high, she feels so great already about having to do it through Climb but when you finally meet 

It changes nothing

Except amplifies her obsessions more so 

Drooling in her lonesome she imagines what it’ll be like to have both of you at her whim

But when you align yourself with Momonga she has to relish in the painful pleasure of watching you from afar

“I thank you for your service in protecting E-Rantel. And thank you for protecting mine my knight.”

And when she finally has Climb and she sees you’re veiled appearance beside Ainz

She knows immediately and has to hold herself back from shaking in pleasure

For any unfortunate soul that should listen in the halls of the castle she was left, she laughs hysterically so overcome with joy at her obsessions passionately weak and tortuously out of reach

“Ahh~My loves! I can hardly ever contain it all hah~!”

Clementine

Now by the time she’s in her prime, you may have not even bloomed 

But if you do it's toward the end

You’ve either fought alongside Momonga or joined him in his decimation of Clementine and her partner

You’re not emotionally immune like Ainz so you might lose a little bit of control

And man does she think it's hot

“Oya Oya are you mad, cutie? Well, when I win I’d love to stab you more and more!”

Her obsession is twisted and disgusting 

Especially after you had begun to quite like the group you were with

You might be too angry; unable to regulate your power when you simply think about getting revenge

So it's likely that Ainz will send you away or forbid you from fighting

But you can watch 

Floating far above her head you watch as she gets angrier at Ainz’s evading

Eventually looking up at the bristling ferocity steaming off you

Even when you're giving her a death glare 

She’s somehow irrevocably excited

“Oi Oi what’s Pretty doing stayin’ up there? Don’t you want to meet with Lady Clementine? Get you’re own ‘revenge’ on me?”

Even as Ainz crushes her to death she’s as happy as she can be while looking at you

Only feeling absolutely destroyed when you turn away

As Ainz gives the final blow

“No! No! No! Agh–!”

[jurassicsickfics]

pls make the seasick fic of jack!

You got it! Your option won the poll! I mean I would have done your request anyway 'cause I'm cool like that lol😎

But here it is! Hope you enjoy!

Like One of Your Sick Girls: A Titanic Sickfic

Ah, the Titanic. The Ship of Dreams, supposedly, anyway. For Jack Dawson, it didn't seem like much could to wrong on this "unsinkable" ship. He'd met Rose DeWitt Bukater only hours ago, and they'd spent some time together; he was immediately smitten. So smitten, in fact, that the butterfly-like feeling in his stomach was chalked up to love nerves. After all, he'd felt fine up until a couple of hours ago. Although, the sea was considerably rougher now, too. He and Rose had plans to meet on the deck at sunset, sharing a secret, romantic few minutes together before bed that night. He met her on the deck of the ship at around 6 in the evening, just as the sun barely began to dissappear behind the curve of the earth, at the edge of the endless water out in front of the grand vessel on which they stood. Rose arrived right on time, and they greeted one another with a soft smile and a peck on the cheek. However, Jack noticed that Rose was being especially quiet this evening, much more so than she had been earlier, when they were laughing, cutting up, and he was teaching her to spit. "You alright? Seems like something's on your mind." Jack asked, leaning against the ship's railing. Rose shrugged her shoulders, fidgeting with the necklace she wore. "Well...I wasn't gonna say anything, but now that you mention it, I'm not feeling very well. Haven't been for some time." The redhead answered. Jack raised an eyebrow. "That so? What's wrong?"

Rose sighed. "I feel...nauseated...and...off balance, a little dizzy."

Jack's eyes widened. "Hey, that's odd. Me too. I keep burping, and my stomach feels funny."

"Huh..." Rose said, staring out over the horizon at the bright pink sky, contemplating the situation.

"Seasick?" She suggested, giving Jack a sideways glance.

He shrugged. "Probably. Just our luck, huh?" He joked, prompting a chuckle from Rose.

The two stood, talking about everything from weather to their childhoods, but as the boat rocked, and darkness no longer allowed them to focus on the horizon. Now, all their was to focus on was the up and down...up and down...up and down...

"Ugh...I don't feel so good..." Jack said, bringing a hand to his stomach. Rose turned to him. "Oh love..." she cood. "I'm sorry..."

Jack, without even thinking, leaned his head on her shoulder. "Would you be totally turned off if I hurled in front of you?" He asked, half joking, half serious. Rose gave him a worried look, grimacing. "I should ask you the same thing...I'm really not feeling well..."

Jack smirked and offered her his arm. "Shall we go vomit together, madame?"

Rose giggled. "Real romantic...but...what the heck? Why not?"

The two went back below deck, finding an empty restroom where they had some privacy. Rose got to her knees in front of the toilet and Jack crouched down beside her.

"Who goes first?" She asked. Jack shrugged. "I dunno, whoever loses it first, I guess."

"So I guess we just wait then?"

He shrugged and nodded. "Guess so."

It didn't take long for Rose to gag and lean over the toilet, and just as she began to retch up the first thick, chunky stream of vomit, Jack was right there to hold her hair back. He even thought to reach around with his free hand and turn her necklace around to keep it out of the line of fire as well. But despite all that, he couldn't bring himself to watch too closely; he felt queasy too.

Rose was about 3 minutes finishing up, and when she did, Jack tore off a piece of toilet paper and wiped her mouth for her. "Feel better?" He asked, planting a gentle kiss on her sweaty forehead. Rose nodded, smiling softly as she reached up to flush the toilet.

Once that was done she scooted back. "Your turn." She said, smirking. But she noticed now that Jack didn't seem as optimistic as before...he looked distressed.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

Jack sighed. "Rose...I'm gonna confess something to you...and...promise me...you won't think differently of me..."

"Of course, darling..." Rose crooned, cupping his cheek in her palm. "What is it?"

Jack took a deep breath. "I am..terrified...of throwing up..." he admitted, not meeting her gaze.

"R-really? Why?" Rose asked, her eyes softening even more.

He shrugged. "I...I really don't know, honestly. Been that way since I was a little kid."

Rose was about to reply, but Jack's gagged and quickly lurched for the toilet. "Rose!" He called, his tone fearful and desperate now.

The redhead immediately went into maternal mode, rubbing his back. "Hey hey...it's ok, I'm here..." she comforted him. The poor boy started puking violently, trembling the whole time, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Jack was beyond embarrassed at his emotional display, but something about Rose made him feel safe being his whole, raw, self. Even if it was a little embarrassing sometimes and made him feel like a big baby. He spit and burped a few more times, before sitting up. Rose was ready with a wad of toilet paper, wiping the vomit and drool from his mouth and then pulling him into her arms. "Shhhh...all done...all done now...it's ok..."

Rose's gentle words of comfort were the final push that Jack needed to break down, and he sobbed into her shoulder, muttering apologies over and over as she rocked and soothed him. They stayed that way for several minutes, until Jack calmed down enough for them to walk back up on deck. Rose was still feeling sick after a few minutes, and she leaned over the railing, burping occasionally. Jack sat on a bench, watching her with a look of fascination rather than fear now. "Hey Rose?"

He asked. Rose turned around. "Yeah?"

Jack hesitated. "Can I...can I draw you? Like that? Like...sick?" He asked.

Rose was a little confused but she agreed. "Sure yeah...but..but why?"

He shrugged. "I dunno...just...its..something that..has always scared me so much but...somehow...you make it look...almost beautiful..."

Rose smiled. "Of course, go right ahead..."

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #87 The Bus Won't Come

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

Let me know if I missed something!

TL note:

Iori calls himself a シルバーキラー (lit. A silver killer).  It’s the same way the term “lady killer” is used in English, except it’s more versatile in Japanese by applying it to different groups of people. Such as older men (おじさんキラー lit. old man killer), or if you’re a “handsome young man who seduces married women”. (マダムキラー lit. madam killer). Basically, in this case, senior citizens fall for Iori’s wiles.

Iori: No sign of the bus, huh

Rikai: ….

Rikai: …How strange. It should’ve come already…

Iori: Aren’t you thirsty?

Rikai: ….Ah no, I’m fine.

Iori: Doesn’t your butt hurt?

Rikai: Eh?

Iori: This bench is tough. Not to mention the lack of satisfactory service.

Iori: Here, you can sit on my lap if you’d like.

Rikai: I’ll pass.

Iori: No need to hold back!

Rikai: Iori-san.

Iori: ….

Iori: Lemme know if somethings bothering you then

Rikai: ....On the same line of thought, it does bother me how the bus hasn’t come at the appointed time.

Iori: I’ll go track it down

Rikai: No no no! Iori-san, please stay here.

Rikai: We’ll ride the bus together when it comes.

Iori: ….’Kay.

Iori: Lemme know if somethings bothering you then

Rikai: What about yourself, Iori-san.

Iori: Huh?

Rikai: You’re always preoccupied with the business of others 

Rikai: Isn’t there anything that’s bothering you, Iori-san?

Iori: ….Nah, don’t mind me.

Rikai: I can’t, please tell me if there is.

Iori: Eeeh~... I dunno… 

Iori: How there’s nothing I need to do, I guess. Keep thinking if spending my time like this is any good.

Iori: Being sort of useless and all that. Or more like I end up being fidgety over it

Rikai: Please don’t think of such things. You’re always supporting us from behind the scenes, no?

Iori: Really? I’m glad

Rikai: Just remember to keep yourself in consideration too sometimes.

Iori: Yessiiiir~

(Iori gets up)

Rikai: Are you going somewhere?

Iori: Got nothing to do so I’m going to look for something to keep me busy

Rikai: Did you even listen to me!?

Rikai: Besides I would much rather prefer if you stayed here with me! Iori-sa….

(Iori leaves and Rikai sighs)

(Terra walks by)

Rikai: Terra-san, where are you headed off to?

Terra: On a walk~♪

Rikai: Selfish as always…

Rikai: Why can’t everyone sit still and wait patiently. What am I supposed to do if the bus comes and leaves them behind in the meantime? 

Terra: Terra-kun won’t be left behind that easily

Rikai: ….

(Terra sits down)

Terra: The bus sure won’t come~

Rikai: My apologies, if only I had my act more together.

Terra: ?

Rikai: I haven’t been able to preserve order at all lately. As the leader, I feel responsible for my conduct.

Terra: What are you on, all of us would’ve perished with you long time ago

Rikai: Eh?

Terra: The fact that we like, somehow got this far is thanks to you

Rikai: Terra-san! Do you mean that!?

Terra: Yup, that’s why I can take it easy and go on a walk

Rikai: I see! Of course!

Rikai: I, the perfect man of society, standing proudly in the middle allows everyone to be free as they please to!

Terra: Uh I didn’t like, say that much….

Rikai: Yet in other words, an existence such as myself has the potential to sow chaos too on the contrary.

Rikai: Terra-san, education is difficult no matter the era we’re in.

Terra: What are you yapping about?

Rikai: Alright, I’ll give it my all! Rikai-oniisan shall not falter!

Terra: Where you going?

Toilet: To the lavatory

(Rikai leaves)

(Ohse and Amahiko walk by)

Terra: Amahiko, you already good?

Amahiko: Yes, I’ve surprisingly recovered quite well. Although I do still feel slightly sleepy.

Amahiko: ….The bus isn’t coming, huh.

Terra: I give up

Ohse: …Sorry

Terra & Amahiko: ?

Terra: Ghost-kun, what’cha apologizing for?

Ohse: Eh… ah, no…

Terra: No apologizing without a reason

Ohse: Sorry

Terra: Again

Ohse: …

Ohse: Understood.

(Terra gets up)

Amahiko: Terra-san, where are you off to?

Terra: Just a lil’ walk

Amahiko: Would you like to go together?

Terra: Nah, alone’s fine

Amahiko: Very well then

(Terra leaves)

Amahiko: Sigh… 

Ohse: …Um, please go to sleep. I’ll wake you up once the bus comes.

Amahiko: ...Ohse-san, you shouldn't overdo it yourself. You're tired too, no.

(Ohse running off on the road)

Ohse: You better show up soon… Bus…

Amahiko: Hmm~ ....To come… or not to come…

Ohse: Eh?

Amahiko: What would you prefer, Ohse-san?

Ohse: I’d… like to be alone.

Amahiko: Eh?

Ohse: Ah, no not like that! I didn’t imply a-anything else with being alone!

Amahiko: Fufu

Ohse: I messed up! I’m really just a piece of shit! I’m so sorry!

(Ohse runs away)

Amahiko: Ohse-san!?

Amahiko: …He ran away

Amahiko: ….

Sarukawa: Oi  Amahiko, you seen Fumiya ‘round?

Amahiko: I haven’t

Sarukawa: Where did that bastard run off to

Sarukawa: Came up to me like, let’s hitchhike so I stuck with him and then he poofed into thin air

Sarukawa: Forreal gotta get his ass at least once

Amahiko: Haha…

(Sarukawa sits down)

Sarukawa: When’s this damn bus coming. And why we gotta wait for sumn’ that won’t show up

(Sarukawa stands up)

Sarukawa: I’m gon’ run off on my own y’know!

Amahiko: …..

(Sarukawa sits back down)

(Amahiko smiles)

Sarukawa: ….Your ma all good?

Amahiko: …Yes, she made a full recovery one way or another

Sarukawa: Really, that’s good news

Amahiko: However…

Sarukawa: ?

Amahiko: Father ended up bed ridden instead.

Sarukawa: Puh- hahahaha! Hahahaha!!

Sarukawa: Forreal!? That old man’s got his shit fucked!? Amazing!

Amahiko: Eeh!?

Sarukawa: Fuckers that mess with ya deserve to get their asses beat!

Sarukawa: Now that’s what I’m talkin’ bout, hahaha, hahahaha!!!

Amahiko: Aha… Ahahaha…!

(Amahiko gets up)

Sarukawa: Mh, where you off to?

Amahiko: I’m going to search for Ohse-san

(Amahiko leaves)

Sarukawa:  ….

Sarukawa:  Fufu…

Fumiya: Kei

Sarukawa: Fumiya! Where the hell were ya!?

Fumiya: I finally got it

Sarukawa: Hah?

Sarukawa: Ah! Someone to hitchhike us!? Ya finally got them to stop!

Fumiya: Nah, got this giant stag beetle

Sarukawa: Hah?

(Fumiya shoves it in Sarukawa’s face)

Fumiya: Isn’t it cool? Look, a giant stag beetle.

Sarukawa: Stopstopstop

Fumiya: Looook, very big. So cool. Jealous, aren’t you.

Fumiya: A giant stag beetle, look, looook

Sarukawa: Aaah! And the hitchhiking then!? The fuck you playing around for!

Sarukawa: Owowowow! It’s pinching me! Bastard!

Fumiya: Hahaha

Sarukawa: ….!

Sarukawa: Wait all ya want, s’not coming

Sarukawa: I’m gon’ run off on my own, y'know! 

Fumiya: …I wonder if Ryuu’s fine

Sarukawa: Hell if I know, what’s gotten into ya

Fumiya: Would be nice if he was.

Sarukawa: Shuddup, ain’t nothing for you to worry ‘bout. Be quiet.

Sarukawa: ….It’s his problem to deal with. Ain’t nothing we can do ‘bout it.

Fumiya: ….

(Sarukawa stands up)

Sarukawa: ….! Where they at!

Fumiya: Eh? How should I know? You’re the one that knows about Ryuu-

Sarukawa: The giant stag beetles!

Fumiya: Eeeeh!?

Sarukawa: I’m so gonna find a way bigger one than yours, just watch!

(Sarukawa runs off)

Fumiya: Hahaha…

(Iori walks by)

Iori: Ah, Fumiya-san. Huh? Where’s everyone?

Fumiya: Dunno

(Iori puts down the bag of drinks)

Fumiya: Ah, water, where from?

Iori: Asked some people in the neighborhood and I received these.

Iori: Who knew I had the charms to woo over the elderly.

(Iori opens a bottle)

Iori: Okay, here you go

Fumiya: ….

Iori: …Hm? It’s fine to drink?

Fumiya: …Yeah, but let’s wait for everyone. We’ll drink together

Iori: …

Iori: ….Roger wilco!

Iori: Still no sign of the bus

Fumiya: ….Mhm

Iori: Wonder what’s gonna happen from now on

Fumiya: ….Mhm

Iori: Fumiya-san, what are you planning to do?

Fumiya: …Eh? Uh, nothing, haven’t decided on anything.

Iori: Really now~?

Fumiya: Being with a bunch of like-minded people, and passing the time away together is more than enough for me. 

Iori: Liar!

Iori: What just happened!? Eeeeh!?

Iori: Actually, where are we even going when we get on the bus?

Fumiya: Ah, about our next destination. Just so you know--

Rikai: Ah Iori-san, you came back, I was searching for you.

Iori: Oh, sorry sorry

Amahiko: Catched myself an Ohse-san~

Terra: You’re like, the worst!

Sarukawa: Your damn fault!

(Everyone’s being noisy)

Iori: Guuuys, there’s water. Please have a drink.

(Everyone sits down and drinks water)

Rikai: What… do we do…

Rikai: Should we walk?

Terra: Eeeeh~

Sarukawa: See? It’s gon’ be that after all, stupid

Fumiya: Lame

Ohse: Amahiko-san, will you be fine?

Amahiko: Yes

(Rikai stands up)

Terra: Eh! Are we seriously walking???

Iori: Not like we have much choice, it didn’t come despite us waiting.

Terra: Geez!

(Everyone standing up slowly)

Fumiya: …Then, we’re off?

Rikai: Guess we’ll depart

(Everyone sighs and starts dragging their feet)

Ohse: ….?

Ohse: Ah! A car’s coming!

The six of them: Wuh!?

(Everyone gets frantic)

(The car speeds by without stopping)

The seven of them: AAAAAAAAH!!!

Rikai: HELP US!

The seven of them: ASSHOLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!

[fallrimxreader]

Ah good, hope this level of angst is ok then:

Can I please request the FO4 companions(and maybe the remaining faction leaders in this scenario pls)reacting to sole becoming self destructive in how much they try and help the wasteland, all because they feel guilty for Shaun dying?

Thank you, have a nice day ^-^

(Warnings: Injuries, lack of sleep and eating, mention of death.)

Cait: “Alright that’s enough. You need to stop, get some rest or I’ll have to knock you out myself.”

Cait was concerned, they’d been in the middle of a raider fight. This was the third one in a single day. Cait was tired herself, and she had only just joined Sole. Sole had been doing this for a few weeks. They kept saying one more, they had to help one more person. But that was about 5 people ago. And now they were getting sloppy. A raider came up close and Sole went to hit them but completely missed. The raider took his hit and caught Sole right in the gut. Sole buckled and Cait had to jump in. Cait drags Sole away from the fight and to a safe house, throwing them onto the bed. She held up three fingers and grumbled when Sole said there were six. Cait does not have the best bedside manners; she gets easily annoyed with Sole. But she grits her teeth and forcefully took care of Sole until they were in some sort of working order.

Curie: She made her opinion quite clear early on, Sole didn’t appreciate her telling them to stop so Sole left Curie behind at a settlement. A week later Sole finally comes back and Curie throws herself into Sole’s arms.

“Please, I’m begging you Monsieur/Madam. I need you to stop. I’m worried about you.” Curie cries uncontrollably, gripping tightly onto Sole. It’s at this point Sole realizes how bad it had gotten. Curie was usually concerned with Sole’s health anyway. But Sole had never seen her cry so hard before. Sole had been thinking only of Shaun, and how even though Sole did all they could to find him they were not quick enough. Sole wanted to get to everyone else and help them before it was too late. Shaun died, and they had to realize no matter how much they do to help others nothing would bring him back. Sole began to cry too, hugging Curie tighter. It was nice to have someone that cared.

Codsworth: “Sir/mum, will you please take a nap. Then we can stop at a settlement and I’ll make you a nice nutritious meal.”

Sole didn’t want to stop. There were people to help, people who needed Sole. They kept moving, muttering how he would want them to keep going. Codsworth was confused, but it didn’t take long to realize who Sole was talking about. Codsworth floated in front of Sole.

“Sir/mum, as much as I hate to say these words. But Shaun is gone. I know he wanted you to help people. But he would also want you to help yourself too. We need you, but only when you’re strong enough. And I know master Shaun would say the same thing.”

Codsworth’s words made Sole break. They knelt to the floor and cried. Codsworth guided them to a nearby settlement and let them sleep. When Sole woke up Codsworth made a large meal, and Sole ate the entire thing. Sole didn’t realize they had gotten so hungry.

Dogmeat: Dogmeat doesn’t notice anything different for a long time. One day Sole gets into a battle where they get shot. Sole had not been sleeping or eating so they were incredibly weak. The gunshot wound took out the last of their adrenaline and Sole could not get off the ground. Dogmeat whined and pawed at them, trying to get them to move. But Sole couldn’t.

“Go get help.” Sole says, finally admitting to themselves they were in a rough spot. Dogmeat ran as fast as he could. He would get them help.

Danse: “That’s it, soldier, you’re done. Time to go home.”

They had gotten into another fight trying to save a settlement and Sole had collapsed in the middle of the battlefield. Danse got under their arm and dragged them away.

“I have to help.”

“No, you need to rest. You’re about to drop dead. I can get my men to come in and help these people.” Danse dragged Sole to a safe house and dropped them onto the bed.

“They need me. If I’m not there, people die without me.” Sole began to cry.

“People do need you. But not all the time. There are plenty of people in this world who can help. You don’t have to be the one to do everything. We put our trust in you every day, for once put trust in us that we can save people too.”

Sole thought about his words. There was a slight relief hearing them. Sole nodded and lay in the bed. Danse got backup from the brotherhood, then focused on tending to Sole. He made sure they slept and ate, before he let them back into the wasteland.

Deacon: “Man I am pooped. How about we head back home, take some zee’s and refill our tanks. What’dya say?” Deacon stretched. They had just finished guiding someone to a new settlement.

“Nah, let’s do another one. I’m sure there’s someone around here that needs help.” Sole suggested.

“I really don’t think I can. I think you could do another, but I don’t think you should.” Deacon crossed his arms. “We’ve been going at it for days; we need a rest.”

“I can’t rest. By the time I get to them it will be too late! No more breaks I can’t risk getting sidetracked again.”

“What are you talking about?” Deacon asked. Sole was silent, staring off into the distance. “Look, you’re not the only one out here. You’ve got me, the railroad and a bunch of other people. It’s ok to take a break, take it from me when I say no one will judge you for it.”

Sole stood still thinking on it. Deacon stepped forward and grabbed their arm. Sole allowed themselves to be dragged away to a place they could rest and eat. Deacon also resting, though he kept a close eye on Sole to ensure they didn’t try to leave without him.

Hancock: “Alright buddy, I’ve got to tap you out. You’re not going to do anyone any good if you’re dead.” He had tricked Sole into going back to Goodneighbor with him, by saying someone needed help. “You’re the one that needs help, and that’s what I’m here for.”

He took Sole’s weapons. Then gave them a bedroom, and told them to sleep. Sole was reluctant, but soon enough they just passed out on the bed. When they woke up Hancock had arranged his townsfolk to cook some delicious meals for Sole. Which they ate, not realizing how hungry they were until they started eating. Afterwards Sole asked for their weapons back.

“Nope back to bed. Your mayor orders you.” Hancock ordered. Sole grumbled off. But after a few days Sole began to realize how much better they were feeling, and how horrible they had felt before Hancock made them stop. Sole was ashamed and bashfully said thank you to Hancock, who was just so happy his partner was back to normal again.

MacCready: He’s a loyal man, and being young and an experienced wasteland wanderer he was able to keep up with Sole. They would do job after job, day and night. Helping everybody they could find. But after 3 weeks he had enough. MacCready had been eating whenever they stopped in a town, but Sole would be ‘too busy’ to eat. They would sleep when MacCready would demand them to. Yet he could tell Sole wasn’t sleeping. Their face in the morning was evidence enough. They stop at a settlement and Sole collapses into a bed from exhaustion. MacCready stole all their weapons, hiding them. When Sole awoke, they ordered MacCready to give them back.

“Sorry but no can do. You’ve done enough. Now we are going to stay in this settlement for at least a few days. You’re going to sleep the whole time, and if you’re not sleeping, you’re eating. Proper food not garbage ‘nutrient bars’.” Sole wanted to fight, but MacCready just pushed them back onto the bed. Sole reluctantly got back into bed and ended up sleeping for 15 hours straight the first day. It took a while but finally Sole was feeling better, they didn’t think they had gotten so bad. But they were incredibly grateful MacCready was looking out for them.

Piper: The pair was sitting in an abandoned building, about to head out to another job. Sole was trying to reload their gun, but their hands were so shaky they couldn’t get the bullets in. Piper took the gun away and held Sole’s hand.

“I think it’s time to call it quits blue, just for a day or two.”

“I can’t. They need help.”

“And we’ll help them later.”

“No, it will be too late. I have to save them now; I can’t lose him. Them.” Sole corrected themselves, then paused. Tears stinging their eyes.

“Oh blue. I’m sorry. I don’t know how you feel, or know what you’re going through. But you’re just hurting yourself at this point. You can’t save everyone, no matter how hard you try. Life happens, and even if you do your best people can still die. It’s the worst, but it’s reality. What you need to do, is not push yourself to the point where you are useless to us. Now please, let’s take a break. We can ask someone else to go help those people out.” Sole hesitates, but Piper just squeezes their hand. Sole wants to squeeze back but they don’t have the strength to. It’s then that Sole realizes Piper is right. They are weak, and would be useless in a fight right now. Sole nods and Piper took them back to Diamond city so they can rest.

Preston: Sole ended up helping every single settlement Preston had. He had to start turning Sole away.

“Sorry boss, no one needs help right now. But I think you should take this as a chance to get some rest.” Sole ignored the suggestion and headed out looking for other jobs. They came back 2 weeks later, limping and with a big black eye.

“Any settlements need help yet?”

“Definitely not from you!” Preston was concerned.

“What?” Sole asked offended.

“You need to rest now.” Preston slings his gun on his back and tries to help Sole into their house.

“This is nothing, at least I’m alive. I need to help the settlements.”

“No boss. If you keep this up you won’t be helping anyone.” Preston gets Sole into the house and to a bed. “Everyone loves you; we are so grateful to have you. But if you want to be around to help us, you need to rest.” Sole grumbled but got into bed and did as they were told.

He asked another town member to take over patrolling. Then got some healthier food and sat by Sole. For the next few days Preston looked after Sole until they were back to normal condition.

Valentine: Nick had been around a long time; he’d seen many men and women fall to the abyss of trying to help everyone. He himself had once gone down that path and it was his assistant Ellie that actually made him slow down. Sole and Nick had just finished 3 jobs in a row.

“Alright boss, it’s time for a break.”

“Just one more.”

“Nope, we’ve done enough for now. Time to rest up and come back later.”

“There might not be a later. We have to help now.”

Valentine made Sole stop moving and stepped up close.

“Listen, I’ve been down this road. But there are too many people and you can’t help everyone. No matter how hard you try. Besides, who are you going to help in this state?” Sole was bruised, their clothes were torn and they hadn’t slept in days. “You need a rest. And I’m getting older, I need to rest too. So let us go back home, we’ll come back another day.”

“But he told me to help them.”

“I know he did. But he wouldn’t want you killing yourself in the process. Now come on.” Nick wrapped his arm around Sole and guided them home.

Strong: They travelled around for about a week, taking job after job helping everyone in their path. Even sometimes accepting two at the same time. They had just completed one job and Sole headed straight to the other. Night fell and Sole was exhausted. They were hit by a surprise raider attack. Sole struggled to hold their weapon, shaking as they aimed. They took too long to steady themselves and got shot in the arm. Sole tried to shoot with one hand but couldn’t make it work. After clearing the raiders himself, Strong headed back to Sole.

“Human weak. Human need rest.”

“No Strong, we need to get to the settlement that needs help.”

“Settlement help Sole.”

“I’m fine.” Sole tried to stand but their knees gave way. Strong picked Sole up and carried them the rest of the way.

“Human weak.” Once at the settlement Sole was bandaged up and told to rest. They tried to leave but Strong blocked their exit. There was no way Sole was going to win against Strong so reluctantly they stayed in bed and rested.

X6-88: He left the institute with Sole the day Shaun died. Sole didn’t say anything except they were going to take a job. X6 was quite willing to go as long as possible. He didn’t have the same restrictions as Sole. He was expecting to maybe go on a job a day or maybe 3 days. But was surprised when Sole had been going for a whole 2 weeks. They get to another settlement and X6 is expecting Sole to rest.

“Come on time to go, we’ve got another job.” Sole says wanting to leave after being there for only 10 minutes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, lets go.” Sole answered, but X6 hesitated. He stood still and took a look at Sole. They had become skinny; their arms shook carrying the weight of their gun.

“I think you should rest.”

“No, I’m good. Come on, or maybe I’ll just go alone.” Sole replied. X6 stepped forward and placed a hand on Sole’s bony shoulder. “We’ve been through a lot together, and I’ll admit I have grown fond of you. I can’t feel what you felt when father died. But I know he wouldn’t want you to live like this. You need to rest and regain your strength.”

“But.” 

“We are not leaving until you rest.” X6 said in an authoritative voice Sole had not heard before. Sole had also not heard X6 so concerned for their health. They were touched, simply nodding and heading to a spare bed.  

Arthur Maxson: He watched Sole enter the brotherhood headquarters limping, skinny and pale. Though they smiled and asked for the next job.

“I’m taking you off the field soldier. You need to go see a doctor and rest for at least a week.”

“I can’t do that boss I have to help.”

“That’s an order, don’t make me handcuff you to a bed.” Maxson used his big voice. He could understand what Sole was doing, people needed help. But to put themselves through so much torture and not take care of their health? Well Maxson thought Sole was a little crazy, but he did appreciate them. “You’re a good worker and I can’t risk losing you from my team. So, take care of yourself and I’ll give you a job as soon as the doctor clears you.”

Sole grumbled but did as they were told.

Desdemona: She watched Sole stagger into the railroad hitting every surface as they walked. Sole had bags under their eyes and their skin was pale.

“What’s next?” Sole asked.

“What’s next is you go get some rest.”

“Nah I’m fine.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.” Desdemona took Sole’s arm and guided them to a bed. “You’re going to stay here and we are going to watch you like hawks until you get better. I have plenty of manpower here, you are not the only one capable of taking a job.”

Sole wanted to resist, but the moment their head hit the pillow they passed out. Desdemona sighed, throwing a blanket over them. She then went to find someone to watch over Sole as they slept.

Gage: “Alright boss, enough now.” Sole had just told Gage they were going on another job. This was the 6th in 2 days. “You need to stop moving for one day. And I need to sleep.”

“We can just do one more then we’ll stop.”

“Ha, yeah you told me that before but we didn’t stop. I know you wanna help people, and that’s ok. But there’s no point if you’re just going to die on them. When was the last time you ate?”

“This morning?” Sole said in an untruthful tone.

“Ate something proper, not just snack. Or when was the last time you slept?” Sole couldn’t reply to that one. “Right. Now let’s go home, because I am not going to carry you if you collapse on me.” Gage said the threat but Sole know he would never leave them.

Sole followed Gage. He had a point. If Sole couldn’t remember the last time they slept, then there was a problem. Once in a safe location the both rested. Gage woke first and kept an eye on Sole, who slept for a lot longer.

[opera-ghosts]

I have had the honour to write for this magazine for some time, and many a great name has come under my pen. If I have not done justice to those who deserved abler treatment, I should yet call myself happy if my sincere effort to be just has been felt by the reader; but whether it is because the great men on whom I have written are dead and can be calmly judged, or, because there is never half so much noise made about a poet or composer as about a great actress, especially when that great actress has a divine voice and is a great prima donna—whatever the reason, I approach with awe the task of giving an idea of the unconditional submission to any of her whims, the blind obedience to her dictates on the part of her manager, of her public, of her colleagues, of anybody who comes into relation with Adelina Patti!

Adelina Patti, this spoilt child of the century, who sees at her feet whomsoever she chooses, called diva and adored as such, who is paid in gold weight for every note she utters, accustomed to receive five hundred pounds a night in England and double that amount in America—Adelina Patti, that realised fairy dream of Scheherezade’s thousand and one nights, the adored of everybody, the idol of all countries, of Europe and America—Adelina Patti is an enigma, a question unsolvable by the sphinx, who will not or can not answer it. The enigma begins at her birth. So far as I have been able to ascertain in Spain, where she was born of Italian parents, the year that gave her daylight was 1842. But if you consult any dictionary of biographical matter or herself, the best informed authority, you will find invariably 1843 as the year properly authenticated.

You will therefore acknowledge it to be reasonable that I should henceforth swear that Adelina Patti the immortal, who cannot die, but who has undoubtedly been born, saw the Spanish sun first in 1843. I remember Madame Lucca once insisting on my seeing her baptismal certificate, because, said she, she had had it copied from the church register on purpose to show how many years she is younger than Adelina Patti. Madame Patti being engaged at the same theatre with so much more salary, the least Madame Lucca could do

was to prove that she is younger than Madame Patti. On mentioning the matter generally (catch me mentioning details) to Madame Patti, the reply vouchsafed me ran thus: “ You see, that poor Paulina (Madame Lucca), I don’t know what is the reason of it, but everybody is making her out older than she is. Only yesterday people here talked such stuff about her. I am sure, and I told them so, that she is not more than forty-seven or at the utmost forty-eight years old ; but they would have it that she has passed Ja cinqguantaine (fifty).” A generous defence, but just fancy Madame Lucca hearing of it, when she showed me the official statement that she was born in 1846, and consequently barely thirty-nine! There I am in a fix, as our American friends say; am I to doubt an official paper ? am I to doubt a sincere friend’s word? I give it up. Let Madame Lucca be younger or older than Madame Patti, it concerns us not.

Now of course you have heard of Jumbo? And of Ben Butler, although you may not exactly see the connection between the two? So have you heard and read enough about Polly and Charlie. But what you do not know is, that these four names are given by Madame Patti to four parrots, the last of whom is her pet. The fate of Madame Patti, what she was, what she is, what she ever will be, is an enfant prodige. She was a wonder-child, as I shall presently show, and she appeared so when at the age of eighteen she came before an amazed London public, with no hand outstretched to her, yet after her first air in ‘La Sonnambula’ the whole audience was stormed, and after her final air (“Ah non giunge”) her success was so immediate, so undoubted, so palpably permanent, that Mr. Gye at once gave her £200 for the promise to sing nowhere else, either in concert or soirée, but at Covent Garden.

I was present on that memorable night when that brilliant career was begun and completed in one evening, culminating in the magnificent sum of £150 per month, that is for ten performances, being secured to her for three years ; £150 per month, that was £400 for the whole season of twenty-five to thirty performances—not as much as she now receives for one evening. I said that she then appeared a wonder-child, and such she is still, The number of small steps which she trippingly makes across the stage, all her graceful and petty minauderies, in fact the whole charm of her nature, the eternal youth of her appearance, are something childlike. Such she was, such she is, and unless she carries out her announced intention of leaving the stage, a thing very unlikely to occur, such she will be to the last day of her performances.

Adelina Patti was born in Spain from Italian parents. Her mother, a distinguished prima donna in her time, of whom I am received, yet you hold me responsible for a debt contracted two thousand years ago by my grandfather’s grandfather’s ancestors ! ”

Oh, perhaps some reader will say, it is not for what has been done two thousand years ago, but their uses and religion to this day will not amalgamate with ours; they know not what Christian love and feelings are. If this be the case, they simply do not follow the commands of their own religion, for just as the Christian principle is brotherly love, so it was in the olden times with the Jews, for it is said of Solomon the wise king of Judea, that a heathen came to him and said, “If thou canst teach me the foundation of thy religion whilst I can stand on one foot, I will embrace thy faith and believe in thy God.” Said Solomon: “Love thy neighbour like thyself! ”

But Madame Barili-Patti was not a philosopher, and she quarrelled with her daughter for having entrusted her fate to an infidel. But the infidel had the vein of mercantile speculation in him, and he saw at a glance the money that could be made with the precocious talent and charm of that wonderful child Adelina, wherein he totally differed from his then associate and partner Ulman, another infidel, and the only impresario of America, with Strakosch, to whom later was associated Maretzek the conductor of Italian opera. Ulman saw and heard Adelina, and he expressed his belief that it was nothing but a straw fire that could not last for any length of time. He refused to have her even for one New York season. Since then he may have changed his mind.

Strakosch, however, saw matters in a different light. He travelled with her through the States down to New Orleans, gave concerts with various results, but always most successfully, artistically speaking, until, after three years had elapsed, he thought the moment had arrived for le grand coup—to take her to Europe.

And so he did. All her grand deeds were unknown in Europe. That she had travelled with Gottschalk, the famous pianist and composer whose acquaintance she made in New Orleans; that in that very town, child though she was, she sang her Traviata, and the theatrical people looked upon the little creature—she is not very tall now, imagine what she was then, about thirty years ago—and refused to put themselves out of their way for a rehearsal, and she actually sang the opera without a single rehearsal. Of all that nobody knew anything, when she made her début at Covent Garden.

She arrived in London with her brother-in-law Maurice Strakosch, who, as I before mentioned, had married her sister Amelia secretly. What I did not mention however, is, that the mother became so enraged, on account of that marriage, when it came to her knowledge, that, as the sisters were sitting together and sewing, the mother got hold of a pair of big scissors, and with that sweet calm which distinguishes Italians as a rule, she threw it after Amelia, but in reality hit Adelina so unfortunately that the sanguinary consequences of her deed temporarily calmed her a bit. The great prima donna, however—who now boasts a country seat and a castle in Wales, literally stuffed with the most curious and valuable works of art— took two rooms in Norfolk Street, Strand, firstly because it was near the opera houses, and above all because it was cheap. Her first offer was made to the then manager of Her Majesty’s Theatre, Mr. Smith. Lumley had had his great days with Jenny Lind; the big company, Mario, Grisi, with the conductor Costa, had left him to establish themselves at Covent Garden. Mr. Smith was supposed to be the very man to bring out Mademoiselle Patti, and to make her fortune and recoup his own. But oh, misfortune! when Mademoiselle Patti and her relation-cmpresario arrived, Mr. Smith’s career as manager was at an end, and there was nothing to be done but to see Mr. Gye (I speak of course not of the present one, but of his father), who was the only man to be appealed to. Now Mr. Gye—who had by the merest accident been chosen by the revolutionary committee of the singers, who had thrown overboard Mr. Lumley to establish themselves in opposition to him, because they wanted somebody to take care of the mechanical business for them—was, if I may say so, a self-educated man, a long-sighted, energetic, intelligent man, but obstinate as a mule, having only one creed, the same that Prince Windischgritz the Austrian Field-Marshal is credited with—“ Humanity begins only with the barons.” Nobility was all Mr. Gye cared for, no benefactor of humanity was in his eyes anybody when compared toa peer. With this view, he had got the utmost possible aristocratic patronage for his opera house; he had succeeded in making it what in reality afterwards kept it alive—the fashion; and he was the man to make the fortune of a young singer like Adelina Patti, because one thing was certain—before the best society she could be heard only in his theatre.

I remember perfectly well the day when she was announced for her début at Covent Garden. I could not persuade a gentleman friend of mine, a banker, and who was a member of the same club as I belonged to, to come with me und hear her, although I told him she was expected to make a great hit. But she had no name, and it is all very fine to quote Shakespeare and ask, what is ina name? Asa designation, certainly a rose would smell as sweet if it was called blotting-paper, but if you should have to decorate a house for the reception of a dear friend, and the florist should propose any plants unknown to you, would you not order roses, oleanders, anything the name of which is advantageously known to you? Let anybody that warm attachment, that irresistible sympathy, that unconscious tyrannical magnetism that attaches you to one being in creation more than to any other, and if there should have been no admixture of interest, no thought of the participation in her celebrity, in the treasures she won—in fact no calculation of substantial profit, but only the ethereal happiness of breathing the same air! To be taken for herself! That is the dream of every rich girl who would flatter herself that her worldly possessions have no influence whatever in the choice of her adorer. I saw once a caricature of Gavarni in which two ladies, rather of the demi-monde appearance, seem in deep conversation on the world’s affairs. “Les hommes, ma chére, c’est tous les mémes. Une femme pour eux seuls!” But this refusal to share the affections of the beloved one, not only with a rival, but often with a mother, with a parrot, this so-called jealousy is to my belief inseparable from any true love. Suppose you had a bank note for £50,000, or a very large and valuable diamond, would you not be anxious not to lose it, and not let it go out of your sight? I admit that this watching system may become a bore when it goes so far that you want an account rendered of every look, but, aw fond, it is the most flattering proof you can give of the value set on your possession. In New York I once had a conversation with a very clever andYattractive young lady, who among other misfortunes was afflicted with two millions of dollars, qui ne devaient rien & personne. She said she would never marry because she would not believe even the man who wanted her for her own sake, that he took her for any other reason than for her gold. “ And what,” I asked, “do you lose thereby? Ifa gentleman takes you because you are so pretty, the small-pox, a fall from a horse, any accident may destroy your beauty and where will his love be if it is for that reason only he took you? If another one falls in love with you because you are so fresh, so young, so lively, time is safe to destroy all that, and your hold on him is lost. But if he takes you for your money, you need only beware of dangerous speculations, and you will always keep the charm that brought him to your feet, and you have nothing to fear.” “That is one way of looking at it,” she said, and so completely did she embrace my opinion, that, barely a year after, I received an invitation to her wedding with an English nobleman, when she seemed suddenly to have made up her mind that all mercenary motives had flown from this frivolous world and nothing but constancy remained. Femme souvent varie, bien fol qui s’y fie.

Adelina Patti—who began with making barely what she wanted, for she was scantily paid at first, as I have shown, and she had her family with her, and to provide some goodly sums for travelling with so numerous a suite—later on received enormous sums; and she now possesses a princely fortune. Men of science, men of celebrity, men of title, offered to marry her; she laughed at all of them, until one came at whom she did not laugh. The Marquis de Caux, a very distinguished gentleman, who held the position of Equerry to the Empress Eugénie during the Second Empire, was the happy man accepted, and the wedding took place in London; after which they went to the Continent, like so many others, being first recipients of old shoes and rice showers. She spoke to me very frankly respecting her plans, and told me how the Empress had encouraged her to go on working for five more years, until she had made an independent fortune, since the Marquis had only 10,000 francs (£400) a year; and that when the income derived from her new fortune secured her an independence, the Empress would receive her at Court as a dame Vhonneur with some palace honorarium, which, so long as she sang for money, she could not be awarded without wounding a number of vanities and prejudices.

She has made her fortune, she has got an independence—where is the Court, what has become of the Empress and her dames @’honneur, where is the Marquis? Change, the fate of all things earthly, is perhaps more the rule in France than in any other country.

A curious incident of Madame Patti’s life was that she lived nearly with every one of her professional colleagues on the best possible terms; and attaching herself to no one in particular, she disliked no one especially, and they all admired, and to all appearance liked her forgiving her, as the French say, her successes. ‘There was, however, one singer, his name was Nicolini, a Frenchman (Nicolas), who made such an unfavourable impression upon her, that not only did she dislike him, but, abusing the excess of power at her command, she insisted on a condition being put into her contract, stipulating that either this tenor was never to be engaged in the same troupe with her, or if previously engaged, she must never be obliged to sing with him. It was a sad affair for Nicolini, who lived in that same atmosphere of admiration, and would have liked nothing so much as to appear before the public of Russia, of France, of England, anywhere, in a love duet with the young queen of song. But she would not hear of it, would not speak to him, would not see him.

I may perhaps be excused if I pass over the period which followed. We have nothing to do with anything except facts, and will leave all that belongs to the domain of gossip to those friends who make it their business, as Sardou has so persuasively shown in ‘Nos intimes,’ to inflate their friends’ quarrels, to engross their friends’ suspicions, to widen in fact every breach until it becomes impassable, and all that under the sacred gis of intimate friendship. *

Alas! if love is but the highest degree of selfishness, as has often been demonstrated, what is friendship, and who 7s your friend, when it comes to the test? That he isa friend who is kind enough to eat your excellent dinner and drink your old wine, accept a seat in your carriage or in the evening in your box, I will not deny; such self-sacrificing creatures may here and there be found. But few and far between are the friends who stick to you when you have nothing to give, who, as that young lady before mentioned said, love you for yourself, and are happy to do you a service without hope of any return. I have however met in this worldly metropolis with a lady to whom I complained when some “ friends,” to whom a short time ago I had had the good fortune to render some signal service, had shown me their gratitude by speaking of me as ill as if I had been their benefactor through life. I was not then old enough to swallow this pill of bitter experience calmly, and I said to her, “ Madam, I can imagine what in your great position you must suffer from ingratitude—for I know all the good you do—when I, who can do so little, am so very ill rewarded.”

And she gave me this answer, worthy of a saint in its simplicity : Are you surprised that the people to whom I try to do good don’t thank me for it? That is their affair!” Satisfied with having done all the good she could, she never gave the matter another thought ! Il y a encore de grandes ames de par le monde !

It is usually said that when men become old they get selfish from having been so many times disappointed and hardened. This would lead us to think that when children, we are very good, and not, as a great philosopher has it, that “man is born in sin.” Certain it is that the innocence, the deeply interesting simplicity of children, cannot survive those storms of life whicl destroy the bloom of the young fruit. A fact of recent occurrence illustrating children’s engaging simplicity just comes to my mind.

Some children were very anxious to get up some theatricals, to which the parents consented on condition that the children managed it entirely themselves, that they wrote the play, and did everything. The elders were to know nothing about it. When the time came, a party were invited to witness the performance.

Scene the first: an officer, making love to a young lady. Second scene ; the wedding. Third scene; the breakfast, during which the bridegroom is summoned to the war, and torn away from the weeping

bride, amid general lamentation. Curtain. … Two years elapse, and then the bridegroom returns in glory, with Victoria Cross. Affecting scene on again meeting the lady; after which the bride goes to the back of the stage and draws aside a curtain, saying, “ Meantime I too have not been idle,” and discloses twelve bassinets, containing twelve babies, represented by twelve dollies.

Great sensation, followed by uproarious laughter, the shouts of which quite puzzled the children. They could not possibly make out what there was to laugh at. Dear little innocents.

Now Madame Patti when she first came before the public knew only one pleasure, her big dolly. She has since then had other and a little more costly joujous. I have mentioned her four parrots given her on different occasions, but her especial favourite is the one she bought, and that is Polly. There is dear Charlie ; another is called after the great American celebrity Ben Butler; then there is one called Jumbo, not on account of its slender waist, but for other particular reasons. But clever as they all are, Polly beats them hollow. She never makes a mistake in her answers, and whatever you call her, she says in reply what she means you to know. Knock at the door, and she'll ery, “ Entr-r-r-rez!” Youask her, how are you? she will answer in French, “Pas mal; et vous?” Onlyoncel tried her English hard,and got my reward. I dipped my fingers in water and sprinkled a few drops over her; she looked at me, lifting up one little black paw, and unctuously and solemnly said, “ You pig.” Rossini, who used to take snuff not always in the cleanest fashion, said once to Polly, “ I'll give youa biscuit if you sing something.” Polly stretched out a friendly claw and said, “J’ai du bon tabac dans ma tabatiere—tierre —tierre !”

To tell you incidents of Patti’s life would fill an interesting volume. To begin with her birth. Madame Barili, her mother, sang Norma in 1842, on February 18th. While she was singing she felt unwell, but was able to finish the opera. But barely was the black veil thrown over the too loving Druidess than she got her lawful husband to take her home, and in the next hour, which began February 19th, Adelina was given to the world, whose first cry is said to have been F in alt. Since then she has sung several other notes, including about thirty-six or thirty-seven operas, of which the list partly follows :

‘Don Giovanni,’ ‘Le Nozze di Figaro,’ ‘ Otello,’ ‘Il Barbiere di Siviglia,’ ‘La Gazza ladra, ‘I Puritani,’ ‘La Sonnambula,’ ‘ Lucia di Lammermoor,’ ‘ Linda di Chamounix,’ ‘ Don Pasquale,’ ‘ La Figlia del Reggimento,’ ‘ Ernani, ‘Il Trovatore, ‘La Traviata,’ ‘Giovanna d’ Arco,’ ‘ Esmeralda,’ ‘ Don Desiderio,’ ‘ Velleda,’ ‘ Aida,’ ‘ Crispino e la Comare,’ ‘ Dinorah,’ ‘Les Huguenots,’ ‘ L’Africaine,’ ‘ L’ Etoile du

Nord,’ ‘ Marta,’ ‘Faust,’ ‘Romeo e Giulietta, ‘I Lombardi,’ ‘ Fra Diavolo,’ ‘ Semiramide,’ ‘ Les Bleuets,’ &c.

In life Patti is or appears to be the simplest creature born. She never affects a stupid prudery. She will tell you as she looks you straight in the face(which is one of her great qualities), “I am the first singer in the world, all the others must concede that.” But she is not on that account anyway more haughty. She is as fond as anybody of a game of billiards, and is prouder of a difficult cannon than of her biggest réle. She is quite without affectation. Once her brother-inlaw sitting at the piano began one of those Viennese waltzes that lift you off your feet. Instantly she jumped up, took hold of me and off we went in a whirlwind, she as light as a feather, “the which” will prove to you, sweet and kind reader, that there was a time when I was younger than I am now, although I will not say, should the siren wish even at this moment to make me commit the folly of another waltz, that I should have Ulysses’ strength to resist her. I remember reading in a feuilleton of my celebrated friend Hanslick (the great critic of the Vienna Neue Freie Presse and professor of sesthetics at the University) that all his dignities did not prevent him from flying through the salon in Paris, encircling Ja belle Adelina, and enjoying a waltz, as the young Viennese doevery day. Shall I, in conclusion, give you an idea of all her hommages, presents, souvenirs of every shape and form and value, heaped upon this too fortunate child of the Muses? Go to her any day you like, and you are sure to see something extraordinary arrive in the shape of an offering. When she sang in Italy, Victor Emanuel the king told her he would come to hear her every night she sang, and, like the r2 galantuomo that he was, he did come every time. At Florence a lady and a gentleman bent forward from their box to present Madame Patti with a laurel crown. You want to know their name? Mario and Grisi. The Duke of Alba in Madrid presented her too with a laurel crown from his box. When she had done singing at Madrid, bouquets and poems flew through the air attached to 200 canaries. The Queen Isabella, a very good singer herself, presented her with a brooch consisting of a large amethyst cameo with forty big pearls, and a pair of sapphire and diamond earrings. The Jockey Club in Paris presented her with twelve laurel crowns the same evening, although she had not twelve heads to use them all. In Berlin she sang twelve times, and twelve times the Emperor was present. The diamonds she carried away from Russia constitute in themselves & small fortune.t Gounod said that

all his Marguerites were Northern maidens, but Patti was the only Southern Gretchen, and that from her, singers should learn what to do and what to avoid. But as I said, go to see her; not a day passes, but Baron R. sends a big basket, half fruit half flowers, or a lady sends an immense fan all tortoiseshell with silver and gold inlaid and red marabouts, and so on, and so on. When you have done calculating all that it is possible for you to do, to say, to write, to present, and all that is impossible to guess, then only will you have an inkling of that perpetual, uninterrupted homage called the life of Adelina Patti. Never has a singer been so universally spoiled. That handsome and spirituelle Princesse Belgiojoso’s memoirs of a singer, whose name was Josephina Grassini, are probably quite unknown to the readers of this paper. She tyrannized over no less a tyrant than Napoleon I. in the beginning of this century, telling him in her Italian accent, “ Oui, tou es oun gran général, ma je n’ai pas besoin d’oun général, oun bel homme me plairait mieux ; toi, tou es oun petit homme et tou entend le mousique comme oune serin.” And the man who saw kings tremble before his angry look, who bore no contradiction from any living creature—Napoleon— submitted to the handsome contralto meekly. Is it not true what Voltaire wrote on the statue of Cupid ?—

“Qui que tu sois, voila ton maitre, Il Vest, le fut ou le doit étre.”

From Temple Bar 1885-03: Vol 73

[jeongyunhoed]

As seen on my FF.net Also seen on my Ao3

Following the events of fifth year, a new adventure awaits for Norah Lee. Boys, exams, school events, common room parties, and old foes outside of Hogwarts. Even battling pensieve guardians was easier than this.

Main Pair: OC/? Genre: Adventure/Angst/Fluff (it's a little of everything, tbh)

KEEP IN MIND: Characters are aged up (even if the story's got them in sixth year) to make it more appropriate. Time period is leaning towards the modern day so in case you might find anachronisms in the dialogue or references, this is why. This may also be quite a lengthy fic too.

BE WARNED: Social anxiety, mentions of blood and injury, grief, drinking, kissing but nothing more than that, death (this is Hogwarts Legacy, after all)

P.P.S: An interaction with my Hufflepuff boy Caleb below! Also, something that I've long thought of writing here, I have finally written. Also shout out to @ellivenollivander for the Amit love hour on discord!

Masterlist

Chapter 15

It was in recent days since the trip to the Overlook mine that Norah realized how close the Hufflepuff common room party was. Everyone in their year seemed to anticipate what Professor Ronen had up his sleeve as an assignment again. Perhaps another matchmaking activity disguised as another lesson. One could never tell with Professor Ronen.

Sebastian and Amit were on board with researching, using the books Norah and Ominis retrieved from the mine. It wasn't long before the three of them were huddled in the Astronomy tower, poring over each page for any relevant details as to how Isidora managed to hone her magic. Henry had also offered to lend a hand, especially after Natty accidentally let it slip about her special ability. Not many in the school knew about it, except the teachers and a select few students. Of course, Professor Black couldn't be bothered to learn the details as all he cared about was that wizardkind won that battle.

"I would've loved to get Bragbor's journals, I'm sure there are other details we can take from there," Amit said, showing Norah some parts that had to do with what she saw from the pensieve. As another way to finally get Sebastian to stop searching for a cure for Anne, Norah told him everything she saw, including the memories from the Keepers. It stemmed from a heated conversation following Sebastian's attempt to get her to do something.

"Are you sure you're doing this for Anne? Or are you doing this for yourself?" Norah questioned him that day. "Sebastian, being reckless will only secure your place in Azkaban. It's time you trusted Anne when she says not to go looking for a cure anymore. She's accepted her fate, all we can do really is what your uncle said. Keep her comfortable."

The words that came out of her mouth then reminded her of the story Madam Kogawa told her about her time preparing to join the Toyohashi Tengu. Her friend's fate was not hers to decide. It resonated with Professor Rackham's comments to Isidora when she was a student. Her father's pain was not hers to take. It would be the same for Sebastian, no matter how much he wanted to.

Upon Amit's comment, Norah stared at him, realizing the answer. "Oh my god, Amit, you're right! You're a genius!" She said.

"Wouldn't those pages be in Gobbledegook?" Henry raised a brow as he looked up from the book he was reading.

"I can read Gobbledegook, Henry," Amit looked proud. "I can teach you sometime if you want."

Henry looked impressed. "That's actually a brilliant idea. I'd love to know how to speak another language."

"Don't you speak French too?" Sebastian was curious.

The blonde smiled. "I do. I grew up in France, and then by my 11th birthday, we moved to England. In case you don't already know, Beauxbatons only accepts girls."

Sebastian, Amit, and Norah looked amused. "You could've gone to Durmstrang," Sebastian teased.

"Ah, that was an option, but this was closer to home," Henry said coolly. "I would've turned out very differently if I went to Durmstrang."

Norah chuckled, and they continued looking through several pages. "But Amit is right though, knowing that Bragbor kept journals even after he was obliviated by the Keepers, he would've documented his process. It's likely he only revealed what he had to do to contain the strands of emotion, but there must be something included in there too, maybe things Isidora told him."

"Hang on, what exactly are you going after all of this for?" Sebastian was confused. "Didn't you just contain that magic not too long ago?"

Norah nodded. "Yes. Professor Rackham told me that there's no other thing to be done with that, until we can learn how to destroy it."

Her words raised a look of concern from the two Ravenclaws. Even Sebastian looked alarmed. "Destroy it?" The three boys said.

"Yeah. For me to learn how to do that, I'll need to find out all the information I can about what Isidora did, what Bragbor did. The risks outweigh the possibilities of the good that could do. It needs to be destroyed so there won't be a secret to keep anymore."

They nodded in understanding. "Norah, this might take a lot of time," Sebastian said gently. "Speaking from experience, that is."

"I know that, but it's never too late to start learning about it," Norah assured him. "I just hope I can find the time in the midst of the NEWTs."

An owl suddenly flew inside, dropping a letter in front of Norah. "Is that from your 'Nick'?" Sebastian raised a brow, as the girl seemed to be unfazed with the presence of the envelope. "The secret summoning is long over, why is he trying to- Is he courting you?"

The question made Henry snort, Norah finally looking up from the pages of the book on her lap. She reached for the envelope, noticing the familiar handwriting and opened it, reading the letter. Her expression fell upon reading it, just as Ominis finally found them.

"I have been looking everywhere for you all-" Ominis stopped when he sensed something about Norah. "What's wrong? Norah?"

Norah stood up, making the three other boys look up at her. "I'm being called to go to Professor Black's office by Professor Weasley," She said.

"For what? Is it related to your rare ability?" Henry asked curiously.

Norah shrugged. "Well, studying these might have to wait, unless the three of you plan on doing that while I'm away."

"We can deal with this later, it's best that we study this whenever you're around so we can make sense of it," Henry suggested, with Amit and Sebastian nodding.

"Norah," Ominis said softly, making her turn around, her cheeks suddenly heating up when she realized he was standing behind her. "Would you like me to come with you? If we were caught in that mine again, I can come up with something, twist the story a bit."

She nodded. "Yeah, that might be best, I think, thank you, Ominis. You have more sway with him than I do. But if he happens to punish me, then so be it," She said, while that feeling of dread was beginning to creep in.

~

Her mind was racing with thoughts of what might they want to tell her. Did she get caught sneaking into the Overlook mine? Was she found out for snooping Horklump Hollow, which had now become Ashwinder territory? Or perhaps it had to do with that duel with Carrow, when she was cursed into bleeding? Or did it have to do with defeating Ranrok and his loyalists, along with those Ashwinders? Did she do something that Professor Black didn't particularly like? Did they find out the actual events at the Feldcroft catacomb? She wasn't sure.

Yet, as they climbed up the staircase leading to the statue that opened another set of stairs to the Headmaster's Office, Norah was trying to ground herself. She was there, now, walking with Ominis, preparing herself for what might happen while she was in there.

With Ominis.

Even with his generally stoic expression, Norah could also see a hint of concern play across his face. She wanted to say something, but she felt like it needed to be said after what might happen in there. It was going to be alright, wasn't it? She told herself as they slowly emerged in the room.

There Professor Black stood, by the steps in front of his desk, along with Professor Weasley. Across from them, was a shorter man, holding a giant camera, with a woman holding a notepad and a quill with a levitated inkpot in front of her. But next to Professor Black, was another man, a much older gentleman with a white beard an a discerning face.

"Ah, here she is now," Professor Weasley said. "With Mr. Gaunt, who has been one of her friends since attending Hogwarts."

"Stand over here, Ms. Lee," Professor Black gestured for her to come over, to the space next to him, putting her in between the two men.

"H-have I done something wrong?" Norah managed to speak. She wanted to ask if she was to be brought to Azkaban, yet the words failed her.

The older gentleman broke into a smile. "Merlin no, but it's an honor to meet you at last, Ms. Lee. I am Faris Spavin, the Minister for Magic," He held out his hand, and she shook it.

"It-it's very nice to meet you, Minister," She stammered, seeing Ominis look just as surprised.

"I wanted to wait a bit for the Wizengamot to confirm the previous year's achievements before I present you with something," Faris turned around, picking up a small rectangular velvet box. "As minister for magic, it is my solemn privilege and honor to present you an award for your outstanding bravery in last year's goblin uprising. Ms. Lee, I present you, the Order of Merlin, First Class."

He opened the box to reveal a gold medal, with a green ribbon. In the middle of the medal was an engraved "M." Professor Weasley and Professor Black beamed with pride, as the photographer nearby took a photo of them.

"A fellow Slytherin too, as you can see," Professor Black chimed in, beaming as the photographers took another photo.

"Ms. Lee, some words?" The woman holding the notepad suddenly asked.

Norah looked like she had been caught off-guard, overwhelmed with the sudden attention. "I-uh, I am honored to receive this achievement," She said. "I could not have done what I did last year without the guidance of my teachers here, in Hogwarts. They have all taught me well, as well as my friends. I think they also deserve to be recognized."

"You are also the youngest recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, so it's even more of an honor, Ms. Lee," Spavin added.

Ominis slowly stepped to the side, his heart swelling in his chest as he was proud of the recognition Norah had received. She deserved all the praise and recognition she was getting, while he was also amused at how nervous she sounded when speaking to the reporter. He wasn't too fond of the fact that Professor Black would definitely go bragging about how a student under his tenure as headmaster became the recipient of such an award.

Still, he didn't want that to cloud the feeling he had, hearing Norah try and answer questions as best as she could, while not disclosing her rare ability just yet. He could tell Norah's nervous and awkward smile as flash upon flash upon flash of the camera took their photos.

"You must be Ms. Lee's friend," the reporter suddenly approached him. Ominis could tell that she was looking at him in a way that seemed to suggest otherwise. "Gaunt, is it?"

"Y-yes, I am Ominis Gaunt," He replied, and his response was met with a furious scratching of a quill.

"Well, well, the company Ms. Lee keeps is quite prominent. Anything you want to say about her? I'm gathering some testimonies from people in her circle. If you could also kindly tell me who else she's friends with, it would help me a lot."

Ominis tilted his head towards Norah's direction, a smile creeping up on his face. "She's a very good friend of mine, and I rarely say that. She's been through a lot, yet she still manages to be there for everyone around her. Norah always denies being brilliant, but she is. Beautiful too."

The reporter seemed to raise a brow at the last comment. "Oh, is Mr. Gaunt...romantically involved with Ms. Lee?" She asked.

"No," Ominis replied right away, cheeks heating up. "No-no we're not."

At the back of his mind, no matter how much he reminded himself that things can never be between them, he wished they were.

~

The news of Norah receiving the award spread like wildfire in the school, mostly out of the portraits chattering amongst themselves and Professor Black's house-elf, Scrope. Issues of the evening edition of the Daily Prophet immediately came in, with her photo on the front page. She tried to ignore the comments congratulating her for the award, many of whom were from their own house table.

Norah kept herself preoccupied with the book in front of her while she ate, as she had a long essay on Ancient Runes due two days away. "Merlin, after everything that's happened last year, I should be fluent in runeish by now, or at least be able to read them," She mumbled, in between bites of chicken.

"She helped retrieve bubotuber pus for me last year, you know," She heard the Hufflepuff Sacharissa Tugwood, say to her friends as they approached their table.

"Merlin, the stories they come up with just to say they know you," Sebastian muttered.

"That actually happened," Norah revealed. "I was on my way to Dogweed and Deathcap to get some more chomping cabbages when she called me. I had to fight another troll to get some of the bubotubers but I managed to get them all."

Sebastian looked at her incredulously, while Ominis also seemed to stare at her. "Bloody hell, she says that like it's a walk in the park," He said. "Why did she need those bubotubers in the first place?"

"She apparently needed them for her pimple cream or something," Norah replied, turning another page of her book.

"That's almost as ridiculous as Professor Black telling me that dittany and bubotuber pus made a good mustache paste," Ominis said, making Norah chuckle. "Of all things, mustache paste?"

Norah laughed. "I had to say something, didn't I? It's bad enough I nearly outed Garreth for asking me to get those billywig stings."

The three of them exchanged knowing looks. Norah reached for the copy in front of Sebastian and looked into the article. She noticed the things that were said about her, some from Professor Weasley, from Ominis, from Amit, from Natty, even from Sebastian. Amit's quote seemed to be the most endearing.

"Norah Lee is not only a brilliant witch, she is also very kind, very courageous, and very clever. Even that isn't enough to describe a dear friend of mine. I would compare her to a comet. You only meet someone like Norah once in a lifetime, and when you do, you can be sure that your memories with her are special."

She smiled to herself, before looking back at what Ominis said. It definitely sounded like him, and she knew the reporter approached him while they were having photos taken. "I think I'll mail this to my parents. I wonder what they'll say," she said, folding the paper and placing it in her bag.

"I'm pretty sure they're going to be proud," Sebastian said, his expression softening when she closed her book and put it back in her bag as well. "Are you heading to the Owlery?"

"Yeah, I'm going to write to them," Norah smiled, glancing at Ominis, who had an amused expression on his face. "Fingers crossed their windows are open enough to receive some owls," She chuckled, hurrying out of the Great Hall.

As she opened the doors to the entrance hall, she was seemingly met with a flurry of papers, including some books that fell to the floor. "Shit," She muttered, hurrying to pick up the papers and the books, belonging to the sixth year Hufflepuff Caleb Revri. "I'm sorry about that, let me help you," She said.

"I'm so sorry- It's okay, I can pick them up," Caleb looked just as flustered as they gathered his belongings, some of which he managed to summon before it flew further to the corner.

If there was someone who could be misunderstood with their looks, it would be Caleb. Sporting an undercut with a head of dark brown curls, Caleb had eyebrow slits and several piercings on his ears, including one dangling earring. When they weren't wearing their uniforms, Caleb was often dressed in black, even sporting black fingerless gloves, and a red short-sleeved shirt with suspenders. If no one knew him, they would probably think he was some dark wizard or an Ashwinder at the very least. Yet, as Norah knew, Caleb was actually quite the opposite.

"It's fine, Caleb, I bumped into you, I have to help you," Norah summoned the rest of the books and papers, in time to stack each one on top of the other. Caleb offered a shy smile. "Just be careful on your way in," She said, handing them back to him.

"I will," He chuckled. "You're quite the hero, my parents couldn't be more surprised knowing that I'm in the same year as you," He added, gesturing to one of the papers, which had her photo.

Norah shook her head. "I'm surprised I even received it at all."

"Nonsense, you deserved it. With everything people say about you?" Caleb assured her. "Well, I have to go have dinner now, thank you for helping me."

"Not a problem at all," Norah smiled, walking off toward the direction of the grounds. She passed a few other students, including an unamused Henry, who, as one of the Ravenclaw prefects, had already begun his rounds. It wasn't surprising that Henry was a prefect at all.

"And where are you going, Lee?" He teased.

"Owlery, I'm not sure my parents received the news, but I hope they will," She replied.

Henry nodded. "Don't stay out too late, I might have to reprimand you," He teased again, shaking his head as he laughed to himself.

"You know," Norah turned around, walking backwards. "I wouldn't be surprised if you became Head Boy next year."

Henry laughed. "I'm not counting on it!" He called out.

[anjumzm]

Midsummer Night

A Legacy of Gods Fanfic

JerCes Daughter x LanMia Son

Chapter 16

Aanya Volkov

The 'Verde' mall was a gleaming labyrinth of luxury stores. During my teenage years, it seemed like the best place to hang out with friends, but as I grew up, its allure felt like a mirage. Spending more time than necessary here wasn't my idea of fun. Not to mention that the Kings were partners in the entire project, and Gina loved shopping more than anything else. As always, Rebecca and I couldn't help but give in to her demands.

If it were any other day, I would have groaned and complained about the amount of useless stuff we'd bought just because 'Madame Gina' thought it would look super cute on me. She did the same with Rebecca, but Rebecca shared the same shopaholic tendencies as Gina and never complained. Today, however, my mind was preoccupied with pressing matters. Theo still hadn't returned the Black Book. I wasn't sure how he'd do it without my brothers or father noticing, and God save him if they ever suspected he had the book.

Gina nudged me, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. "You've been awfully quiet, Aanya. What's going on in that head of yours?"

I forced a smile. "Oh, just thinking about... everything."

Rebecca's concern was evident in her eyes. "Everything? Or a certain someone named Theo?"

Gina's eyebrows shot up. "Theo again? What's he done now?"

I sighed. "He's just... intense."

Rebecca exchanged a glance with Gina before turning to me. "You need to be careful, Aanya. Theo's not just intense. He's controlling."

Gina added, "I know that he's my brother and I love him to the moon, but Rebs is right. He is controlling and manipulative. Since childhood, he has had a tendency to control everything, his brothers and sisters included. Do you remember the 8th-grade incident, Rebs?"

"Please don't remind me," Rebecca said, scrunching her face.

"Wait, are we talking about Zayden? That's the only interesting thing I remember from our 8th grade. Hadn't the guy proposed to you and then left school the next week? He was a cutie," I added.

"See, that's the thing. He didn't leave the school; he was forced to. You know how Sean and Theo were. They somehow forced him and his family to resettle somewhere else, all this over an innocent proposal. Rebs and I came to know about this recently when we ran into Zayden at the trekking trip last month," Gina explained.

"Point is, Theo's always been that way. He protects what he considers his, but it's more about control than care. And you, my dearest, deserve someone who loves you openly, not someone who needs to control you," Rebecca said, casually putting her hand on my shoulder.

A few minutes later, the topic shifted to more casual stuff like Gina's party and Rebecca's new dress. The highlight of today's discussion was the grand party Aunt Ariella was throwing. The Astors were known for their partying and adventurous nature. Aunt Ari's son, Raphael, had been studying in France and had just come back home. It had been quite a while since they saw him. He was mysterious, which was completely opposite to his parents, both of whom were extroverts and outgoing. He was more like Grandpa Cole in that sense. Also, Raphael, Sean, Theo, and Jasper were some kind of celebrities during their school days. Now that Raphael is back, I'm sure they were planning to do some mischief, raise hell, and chaos.

As if on cue, Jasper, Rebecca's brother and my cousin, joined us. Despite being the youngest in the family, he managed the mall, a role that earned him respect and a fair bit of teasing.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite ladies!" Jasper exclaimed, throwing his arms around us. "What are we discussing? Fashion? Gossip? Or planning a coup?"

Rebecca rolled her eyes. "Just shopping and chatting. Aanya was telling us about her date with Theo."

Jasper raised an eyebrow, his tone turning playful. "Ah, Theo. The man of the hour. Or should I say, the man of many hours, given how much he occupies your thoughts, Aanya."

I blushed slightly. "It's not like that."

"Sure, sure," Jasper replied, winking. "So, what has the dark prince planned for this evening?"

"Probably something intense and controlling," Rebecca muttered under her breath.

I sighed. "I don't know, honestly. He's... complicated."

Jasper's expression turned serious for a moment. "Just be careful, Aanya. Theo's not like the rest of us. He has a way of getting what he wants, and not always in the best ways."

Gina tried to lighten the mood. "Enough about Theo. Let's focus on finding the perfect dress for Aanya. Something that makes her feel amazing."

As we continued shopping, Jasper and Rebecca threw sarcastic comments at each other, their banter lightening the atmosphere. But I couldn't shake the unease that settled in my chest.

Rebecca squeezed my hand. "Remember what I said, Aanya. You deserve the kind of love that makes you feel alive. Don't settle for less."

I nodded, appreciating my friend's concern but knowing I had to face Theo and whatever he had planned for the evening.

With a deep breath, I excused myself from the group and headed home to prepare, my thoughts a whirlwind of uncertainty and anticipation. The night ahead promised to be anything but ordinary.

[gold-rhine]

amab adeptus girls🙏🙏🙏

I would like to mention that this ask was received before the current lantern rite, where the Hot-Sonas of madame ping and cloud retainer were revealed, so I'm only doing Ganyu

amab sub! Ganyu x afab Keqing

Warnings: nsfw, handjob, oral, bondage, workaholic lesbian flirting

Wordcount: 1,3k

“I will deal with this tomorrow, according to our plan then,” Ganyu said, looking up from the documents spread out on the table. They both stayed late in Keqing’s office, in fact, so late the entire building was empty by now.

Keqing nodded, leaning back in her chair.

“Sure. And if some unforeseen circumstances arise, I trust your judgment in dealing with them.”

“You do?” adeptus blinked a few times, her plump pink lips opening in surprise.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Keqing raised her eyebrow and the other woman blushed faintly, looking away.

“It’s only that I’ve thought you consider me… best suited to executing orders instead of making decisions.”

“Ah,” it was Keqing’s time to blush, but she didn’t look away. She believed in facing up her past bad judgements head on. “Well, maybe at first. But I was very inexperienced back then and I’ve changed my opinions on many positions, including your evaluation. I’ve come to respect and admire your ability, especially that you’d carry out orders perfectly even if you didn’t agree with the premise entirely. Many others would use that opportunity to sabotage the whole project and get some personal leverage.”

“Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could always tell you’re dedicated fully to the good of Liyue, so why would I not give your ideas the best chance they can have?” Ganyu said passionately, leaning forward, her cheeks glowing and chest raising. “And I’ve come to respect and admire your abilities and your bravery, honesty, and propensity for innovation too. It’s an honor to help bring your vision of this country’s future to life.”

Keqing always believed in seizing the opportunity while it’s there, so she reached out, caught the other woman’s chin and kissed her. Ganyu made a muffled squeal of surprise, but answered the kiss, her tender lips sweet and timid at first, but opening more and more as she threw her arms over Keqing’s neck. She leaned in as Keqing’s hands roamed over her body, squeezed her full breasts, slid down her bare back and groped her ass.

“Wait…” the adeptus whispered breathily, breaking a kiss. “There are few things you should know about me…”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, I have to tell you first…”

“Okay, of course, what is it?” Keqing asked soothingly, at the same time opening the clasp which held up Ganyu’s top at her neck and sliding it down to reveal her beautiful breasts. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone… so I’m afraid I’m very rusty…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I mean it’s been hundreds of years… I might not know what’s expected of me now…”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure the concept of a pillow princess hasn’t changed since the old times,” Keqing said with emphasis, kissing the other woman's throat. Ganyu’s chest had wide, but very pale pink areolas, almost transparent lilac, but her nipples turned into small, hard pebbles under the caress. 

“Oh, they have a name for it now? Okay, but… There’s another thing…” adeptus blushed brilliantly, but firmly slid her body suit off to her thighs, revealing…

“Rex Lapis, you have a tail?!”

A fluffy pale blue ball of fur with white underside trembled at Ganyu’s backside.

“It’s hardly appropriate to invoke Rex Lapis’ name at a time like this!”

“You’ve had a tail this whole time? You had a fake metal accessory in place of a tail while there was an *actual* tail under it all along?!”

“Yes… It’s yet another sign separating me from the humans, but also a reminder that I lack the power of true adeptus to have complete control of my form…”

“It’s adorable. It looks very cute on you,” Keqing said, sliding her hands down the archer’s body and between her now bared plump thighs. Adeptus blushed at the compliment and her cock twitched under Keqing’s palm.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to have it squished up like that?”

“Well, it’s hardly appropriate for the Secretary to have a wiggling tail out! It would certainly ruin any claim to serious authority!”

“I think it’s very respectable, but I recognize your reasons. Though I think people would get used to it and treat you according to your immaculate deeds rather than appearance, but ultimately it’s up to you to decide.”

“Thank you. I know you don’t believe in the inherent superiority of the adepti, so I trust you would not treat me differently…” “Never,” Keqing muttered against the other woman’s throat, stroking her pretty dick. Ganyu squealed, overwhelmed, her hands uncontrollably rose up to her collarbones, flailing nervously.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m very rusty as I’ve said… I just… don’t know what to do with my hands sometimes…”

“It’s okay. I think I can solve this problem,” Keqing opened the lower drawer of her table, rummaging around until she found the handcuffs.

“Oh…” Ganyu breathed, blushing even brighter, but shyly offered her wrists nonetheless. Keqing kissed tender skin and closed handcuffs over it, and then attached the clasp to adeptus’ choker, where the stylized bell usually dangled, so that her cuffed hands were fixed near her neck.

“Better?” she grinned and kissed Ganyu without waiting for an answer from an embarrassed, but clearly pleased secretary. She writhed under Keqing’s hands, her hips thrusting and trembling helplessly. Her small thick dick was throbbing sweetly, tip leaking and staining her tummy and dripping down on her plump thighs. She came whimpering with Keqing’s mouth on her breasts and hand pumping her cock, shivering and leaning against the other woman.

“Are you okay…” Keqing started asking, when the secretary started moving. Ganyu trailed kisses down Keqing’s chest, ribcage and stomach, until she nuzzled against her skirt and looked up. She looked so sweet, kneeling with her hands helplessly chained over her full breasts, with pink nipples peaking hard from arousal, big violet eyes looking so meekly and patiently. Keqing lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties, revealing her pussy, and the adeptus immediately buried her face in it, lapping at the exposed clit. Keqing moaned and threaded her fingers in the soft curls of the Ganyu’s hair, when the other woman looked up.

“Please don’t tug at the horns…” she muttered shyly, blushing bright.

“Mmm, okay. I thought the livestock’s horns didn’t have any sensitivity though.”

“Well, I’m not livestock,” Ganyu said defiantly, which was adorale considering her mouth was still pressed against Keqing’s cunt. “My horns are very sensitive.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry if I was rude,” Keqing said, recalculating her mental system, which was somewhat hard due to her cunt at the moment being exposed and licked. “I would never hurt you. Should I not touch them at all or is it okay if I’m very gentle?”

Ganyu looked up, her cheeks red with blush, her large breasts pressed against Keqing’s legs and pink tongue sticking out as she was licking at the other woman’s pussy.

“You can touch them… if you’re careful…”

Ganyu’s tongue lapped against the other woman’s cunt, while Keqing’s trembling fingers ran along the ridge of red-black horns, rubbed tenderly at the base, making the archer moan sweetly against her flesh. And she was good, she ate Keqing out so well, her mouth gentle, but persistent, and her tiny whimpers felt so good against the wet cunt when Keqing played with her horns. Keqing made sure to not grip them though, when she got close and was losing control, thrusting against adeptus’ face and moaning quietly. She came in shudders and leaned back on the chair, while Ganyu crawled up onto her lap. The archer nuzzled at her neck and curled in a cute, chubby ball, and when Keqing came back to her senses, Ganyu was already sleeping.

“Wait…” Keqing breathed out, her eyes widening. “Is *that* what you thought pillow princess means?"

[soranihimawari]

A surprise Tokyo Revengers thought from me (who finally got around to reading it):

🔞—mdni: mentions of drug withdrawal, sex, suicidal thoughts from major character

Yn’s been thru it.

The music is loud, so loud in fact that your job as a cigar box girl has you practically yelling at your clients. It’s been almost a seven months since Akkun stepped off the roof. The business suffered for a bit, however when you started learning the bar, his old companions would frequently visit. You were friends and a fresh familiar face for the lot of the scum you service every day, but you did have a fan. A dangerous, handsome, rich young man with hair of black licorice, who requests you on days he wants to take you home; whom fucks you hard, fast, then slow; who cups your face and makes empty promises to buy your contract so you can play wifey for—Keisuki Baji’s life was never the same when he saw you behind the glass of the bar at the club.

Keisuki Baji, since adolescence, has always been a pretty boy. He’s been told this by the old madam’s of the whorehouses under his jurisdiction. Baji climbed the ranks and soon earned his title in the underground of the city as a demon lover of the unholy harpys that scour the city for a cheap fuck. Honestly, that’s how he met you—your pimp bad mouthed the gang he was a part of and during a raid blessed by both haitani brothers, baji executed his orders perfectly. Until you, with withdrawal shakes from the drugs you were forced to ingest, comes out shaking like a leaf on tattered lingerie. A blank expression of yours meets Baji’s shocked one’s because who knew an angel exists in this hellscape?

Three weeks, three long weeks, does it take for you to kick the habit. Three weeks, Baji stays by your side, making sure he’s there for you and the other girls were ok before shipping them around the city at legitimate (read as store fronts for illegal money laundering businesses) call girl motels. In that time, in between feeding and cooking for you, Baji treats you with care; he’s lost so many good people in his youth, but now he’s older, he’s learning to give his heart a chance. You think he develops a savior complex because in a violent relapse haze, you punch his face, almost breaking his nose when you freak out. He calms you by gripping your wrists and forcefully kissing you to calm down. You are heaving before your panic driven heart calms down the longer his lips stay on yours. You surrender to the power of how he makes you wet the further he pushes you back on the mattress. His chest tumbled when he tells you how hard you make him; it’s a broken gasp when your hands brush against his clothed member.

You’re shocked he’s kissing your neck with his hands halfway teasing your clothed entrance right now; Baji’s even tempered head has irresistible vulgar thoughts of you right now when you whisper a soft, “please fuck me...I don’t care how, just~ah!~ do it.” Your hips buck up to encourage him sliding off the pajama shorts you claim are yours. His hand cups your mound with a chuckle tickling your half exposed underboob.

“Patience pretty one,” is all his says before kissing your brow. He preps you as best he can with his hands and mouth before slipping off the rest of your clothes and his by default. You had already lost count of how many times he made you climax whilst still acting has his cock sleeve when the sun breaks through the windows. Strong hands on either side left marks on each other’s neck, thighs, and backs. Your nails had dug deep into his scarred lightly shoulders. It’s the same arm you don’t ask about when you became his regular fuck.

Keisuki Baji treats you well. He and his friends before Akkun’s suicide tipped you over thirty percent, minimum, always. Yet on nights where his past misdeeds causes him to have no sleep, you pledge unyielding fielty to Baji only when he sees you in his kitchen.

“We closed early because I’m because I’m edited about you,” your voice is calm though Baji seemed alarmed you were there. “Give me the keys to your gun box.” He doesn’t. “Now.”

The keys slide on the kitchen counter before you chuck it in your bag for later return.

“I already lost Akkun and you know he was a dear friend,” you touch your hair. “Can’t lose you.”

Three words that held the weight of love and forgiveness confuses Keisuki Baji. He’s worse for wear right now, five o clock shadow builds on his immaculate jawline; his hair is in a messy half- ponytail, why he keeps his hair long you’ll never know, you him to not cut it because you know he loves it when you braid his hair for meetings. He wears a tank top and long satin navy sleep pants, and you come over in the navy bodycon jumpsuit he bought you ages ago.

You don’t ask for permission to hold him, but he allowed you to. Baji’s arms and hands envelop you as his head rests against the crook in your neck. His nose exhales shakey breaths and a short lived, “h-how?”

“You never answered my text about dinner tonight love,” you run a consoling hand hit tresses as you continue. “And you almost immediately do, so I stopped by before you did something insane.”

You stop your ministrations as you ask him to look at you, when he didn’t, you pry himself away from your back for a moment.

“Don’t go offing yourself Romeo,” you warn. M time was annoyed, but righteous in anger. “Don’t want to lose you too early.”

At this admission, Baji’s never known live until it stares at him in the face. He realizes he loves you the moment you ask for the keys to the safe; you were that important to the young man. So lord help the rival members of a western clan who thought it would be fun to kidnap you for a high ransom while you’re on break at the bar.

Keisuki Baji receives a call from one of the girls at the bar and his heart drops as he thanks her for informing him of the assailants. Baji makes a call or several to round up his subordinates to break the hands of those who dared to think to take away the one thing that makes him feel whole. The person in the room with him had a wicked smile on his face:

“It’s been a while, but,” a flash of a deadly smile from one former blonder vice captain to another reflects in the lightning storm above. “We should get your lady back home before they think of killing her.”

Baji’s already at the door being good armoire. He punches a code on the key pad of the door as several guns are hung on the wall; he picks the 35 & 9mm.

If you truly were worth dying for, then you just needed to stay alive. Hell’s favorite demon is coming to free you. 🔁

[mcgonagiggles]

Back to Hogwarts Personal Prompts Challenge

Day 1 Prompt: Platform 9 3/4 Word Count: 768 Summary: OCs of mine and a friends in the train compartment their third year (Equivalent of Harry's first year) My OCs: Lena (Gryffindor), Dante (Slytherin), Kiya (Gryffindor- Hat stall almost Ravenclaw) Friends OCs: Steph(Gryffindor), Matt(Gryffindor) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where the hell is she?” Kiya grumbles, looking down at her watch. “The train leaves in 10 minutes! She’s going to miss it.”

Matt shrugs.”You know Lena only lives like a 3 hour walk from Hogwarts anyways. I never understood why she rode the train to begin with. Waste of time to drag everything to London just to bring it back the same day.” He sits down in the seat across from the other two girls.”Dante is late too.” He adds, frowning. “I hope his parents didn’t decide to send him to that private wizarding academy in Sicily. He mentioned it a few times in his owls this summer.”

“If only we could get so lucky.” Steph grumbles, slamming her book shut and shoving it into the side storage of her seat. “I saw him in Diagon Alley yesterday before running into you two. Safe to say he’s still going to be at Hogwarts this year.”

“Well you don’t sound too happy about that.” Matt grins, raising an eyebrow at Steph’s disappointed tone. 

“Should I be?”

“Well, he is your frie-”

“Watch it, Matt.” Steph warns. “Don’t you ever use that word when describing our relationship.”

Kiya sighs, rolling her eyes. “Will you two stop? Steph, Dante is just as important to our team as everyone else. And besides, who else is going to let you practice your spells on them?” She adds, smiling slightly at Stephs sudden thoughtful look. “As for Lena-”

“What about me?” The compartment door slides open and Lena enters, followed closely by Dante. “Sorry we are late. Word on the train is Harry Potter is starting his first year. So we tried to get a look at the kid.” She sighs, sitting down next to Kiya. “Poor kid, looks like one breeze will knock him down.” 

Steph perks up at the mention of Hogwarts new arrival. “Wait, the Harry Potter?” She asks, intrigued. “The boy who lived? The one who defeated You-Know-Who?”

“No, not that one.” Dante replies, voice laced with obvious sarcasm as he grins across from her. “Hairy Potter, you know. The famous Herbologist who gardens without a shirt and has a lot of chest hair. I’m pretty sure Madame Sprout has his picture hanging on her office wall for inspirat-”

“Please,” Steph turns to Kiya, eyes pleading. “Please just let me hex him one time before we leave the station. I promise it will be a simple one!”

Matt quickly pulls out a crumpled up piece of parchment, quickly changing the subject. “Oh! I nearly forgot!” He grins, holding up the piece of parchment. “Did you guys get your Hogsmeade permission slips signed?” He asks the others. “Best part about third year!”

“Got mine signed.” Dante laughs, showing his own piece of paper. “Ladies?” He turns to the three girls, eyes landing on Lena. “Can we expect to take you all to the Three Broomsticks for a butterbeer?” He asks, causing Lena to roll her eyes, but the blush doesn’t go unnoticed as she quietly pulls out her own slip to show. Kiya follows suit, waving her own parchment with a little hum.

Steph groans. “I knew I was forgetting something!” She slaps her forehead, falling back into the seat. “I will just have to send mum an owl I’m sure she-”

“Already done.” Dante smirks, holding out a folded up note and handing it to Steph. “I saw your parents on the platform and figured you’d forget, since none of us reminded you a million times this summer.” He sighs dramatically. “Lucky for you, I am a thoughtful person. I just so happen to have an extra quill and parchment in my pocket!” He holds it out, but jerks it back when she tries to reach for it. “Ah, ah, ah. What do we say?” He asks, smirking. 

“If you don’t give it to me I’m gonna-”

“Steph,” Kiya warns, eying the girl sternly. “He did a nice thing for you.” She reminds her friend. 

“But-”

“No buts. What do you say?”

Steph huffs, thinking for a minute. Finally, she swallows her pride and turns to Dante, looking as if she would be sick.”Thank you.” she mumbles quietly, taking the parchment from him.

“For?” Dante’s grin widens, his hands still grasping the permission form. 

“For being a good friend.” She sighs, closing her eyes and praying this whole thing would be over soon.

“Atta girl!” Dante laughs, plopping back in his seat. “You’re welcome.” He hums in satisfaction, folding his hands behind his head. “And just for that, the first rounds of butterbeer are on me!”

[percontaion-points]

Firstlife prologue & chapter 1

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Bonus Chapters

TROIKA 

From: A_P_5/23.43.2 

To: L_N_3/19.1.1 

Subject: Tenley Lockwood

I don’t know what’s happening. This is literally how the book starts: with several emails between two characters. I had to scroll through all of them (one email per page) simply to make sure that this wasn’t going to be the entire fucking book. It’s not. Chapter 1 starts after this. 

With all due respect, I’d rather fish out my internal organs with a coat hanger than stay here.

I don’t know what’s happening, but big mood. 

Your mother’s name and where to find her.

Bonus chapter/Prologue/Whatever the hell is going on here summary: So as I mentioned, we opened on a bunch of emails. The first set is between somebody named Archer Prince and his boss, General Levi Nanne. Archer has been tasked to convince the main character, Tenley Lockwood, to join their side. Archer thinks that this is a load of garbage, and complains about it. General Nanne is like “SUCK IT UP, BUTTERCUP!”

The second set is between Killian Flynn and HIS boss, Madame Pearl Bennett. It’s the same thing, but Killian 100% wants to woo Tenley over basically with seduction. He’s also way less chill about the entire thing, and is certain that Tenley would simply become “another cog in the machine”. He also wants to rip off Archer’s arms and beat Archer with his own arms. Pearl isn’t amused by Killian’s plan, and tells him to beat Archer in his own free time. 

All of this would probably be interesting… IF THE READERS KNEW WHAT THE GODDAMNED HELL WAS GOING ON. 

Chapter 1

I’ve been locked inside the Prynne Asylum—where happiness comes to die —for three hundred and seventy-eight days.

I’m suddenly having really violent flashbacks to the Shatter Me series. Opening on a girl locked in an asylum telling us how long she’s been in there? Check. 

Also, the reviews warn me that despite the fact that there’s a war going on, neither side knows why they’re fighting. Which also checks out with the Shatter Me parallels. 

I hope that these are the only parallels, but… The fates are usually never that kind to me. 

There are no windows in the building. At least, none that I’ve found. And I’ve never been allowed outside. None of the inmates have.

[...]

Last night I was caned just because. 

I see that we’re opening strong on some torture porn. 

Maybe because my name is Tenley—Ten to my friends. 

I thought that the review with the gif of “Listen up 5s, a 10 is talking” was a joke. No. It is 100% not a joke at all. This is literally her goddamned name. 

Dr. Vans, the head of the asylum, likes to taunt us.

Judging by everything told to us in literally two pages, I’m going to go ahead and say it: I don’t believe that man has ever gone to medical school. 

Something we’re never given? Razors. I keep my legs and underarms smooth with threads I’ve pulled from old uniforms.

Ah yes. Because when I’m being imprisoned and my human rights stripped, the number one thing on my mind is: are my armpits baby smooth?

The author could have written literally anything, and she gave us this dumpster fire of a line. 

“I’m Bow, your new best friend.”

I can’t even pretend to be surprised that the great mind that gave us Ten as a name is also giving us Bow. 

Yes, Bo is a name. But when you add in the w, it turns it from a human name into an adorable accessory for a little girl. 

She cups her breasts in a mimic of me and beams. “Boobs are awesome, yeah? Literal fun-bags. I don’t know what you girls are always complaining about.”

 “Don’t you mean us girls?” Her hands fall away from her fun-bags. 

“Dude. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying the equipment and getting a little some-some of my own goods and services. Seriously. I’m so hot even I want a piece of me.”

If this is Killian or Archer, I’m honestly laughing so hard over either of them being put into a girl’s body. Love triangle? Forget love triangles. Give me more of whatever the hell this is. 

A rare few people, like me, have no idea which side to back. We see merits to both sets of beliefs. We also see downsides. 

We are called the Unsigned. 

For us, there are rumors of a third spirit realm, the place we’ll end up after Firstdeath. My parents used to tell me horror stories about it, stories whispered in the dark of night. The Realm of Many Ends, where nightmares come to life.

Side one: War

Side two: War

Yeah. I’m still in chapter one, and I can understand why people are like “You both suck. There should be a third option.”

I know that this is supposed to be a heaven/hell comparison, but I’m honestly seeing a lot of political parallels in this. 

I cast Bow a humorless smile. “Welcome to Prynne.”

Chapter 1 summary: Now that we’re in the actual story and not whatever the fuck was in the beginning… We’re given some measure of explanation. 

Basically, this is a world where life comes in two stages. The titular firstlife, where you’re born, and age. And then you die, and you begin your second life. However, before you die, people want you to sign an unbreakable contract with blood that you’ll join one of two factions: Myriad (aka heaven) or Troika (aka hell). There is supposed to be a third option that’s somehow worse than the two of those. But if you ask me (and our main character, apparently), being whipped for all eternity because you refused to pick heaven or hell sounds better than being forced to fight in a war that you 100% don’t support. And dying for the second and final time sooner rather than later. Because of that war. 

Anyway, so there’s a lot of torture porn in this chapter. I’m really over it, because you know that MC is going to leave soon, simply so that the actual story can start. She gets a new roommate, a girl named Bow. But I’m pretty sure that it’s Killian. She/He’s nuttier than squirrel poo, and knows way too much about life in the asylum for Ten’s comfort. 

As the girls leave their room for breakfast, they get at it with another inmate, Sloan.