#gosh they had me by the throat when the show was airing so much so that i still to this day i havent s5

[ladiesworldsblog]

Well, let me tell you something about that scene.

She’s the girlfriend of the junior boss of the law firm in he US, where my wife made her first steps in her career. That company made a lot of money and Junior was an arrogant bully to me. I really hated that guy, but he was generous in some way, if he got what he wanted.

We weren’t married or engaged at this time, but had been in a relationship for some months already. So he invited us to a boat trip on his dads really impressive yacht. It was fun, we enjoyed ourselves and had a great time. We had separate cabins, but it was obvious that he was interested in my sweetheart.

I already knew, she wasn’t a saint and she had my allowance and maybe even my encouragement to have fun in life, so she enjoyed some other cocks beside mine. I was completely fine with that and could handle that quite well.

Junior knew about this and he bullied my with his skills in bed and his cock size. He told me, that he had have my sweetheart and he show how it made me hard as he said it. His grin was so fucking big.

We partied that evening, enjoyed a good meal and some drinks, danced and joked around. But I also saw him groping my woman on the dancefloor, I guess, I even caught him as he put his hand into my sweethearts panties. But I didn’t do or say a thing.

Suddenly they disappeared and his girlfriend came to me, asking me, if I‘m ok? I nodded and she gave me some company, asking me, if I knew, that he was interested in her and surely will spread her legs for his big dick, getting screwed in his cabin. And she could clearly read the excitement in me, saw my bulge and teased me hard. Telling me how good he‘s in the bedroom, how good his cock feels in a wet silky pussy. She showed me her bare boobs and her erect nipples.

And it was just too much for me, as she came close and whispered in my ear, if I mind when she joins them in the cabin for a threesome. He had told her, how delicious her pussy juice tastes and that she loves to scissor with her as well. I came in my pants and she giggled and said she‘ll take this as my approval.

I had a short hard night alone in our cabin, I could hear them having fun in the captains cabin and got hard by that lovely moans and scream from both females. He was a fucking bastard and I lost count of the amount of orgasms he spent my sweetie.

I was up early in the morning and needed some fresh air and enjoyed the sunrise on deck as I saw his girlfriend coming upstairs, her gorgeous body barely covered. She gave me a good morning kiss and I could smell her breath dick. She said my sweetie has sent her and told her that I‘m really good and eager at licking cum-filled pussies.

Before I could react, she pulled her panties down to her ankles and let me get a look at her swollen, sweaty and cummy pussy. Gosh, she had beautiful lips and I dropped to me knees and just had to kiss her. She tasted so wonderful and she loved what I was doing there.

She gasped, she moaned, she pulled me closer into her needy cunt. She was getting close and just as he screamed out an intense orgasms, I heard the voices of my girlfriend and her bosses son coming upstairs as well, asking me, if I‘m already enjoying my breakfast. She squirted and pushed her juices mixed with some of his sperm deep down into my throat.

[kittysarchive]

hiiii<3 first off, i js wanna say ur writing is amazing and i love ur work sm!!<33 Second, I was wondering if I can req and yandere! skz with a sub reader with a choking kink?? idk if this is too much but i went based off ur prompt list, u don't have to if u don't want to, u js keep shining like the amazing and beautiful person u r <333

THANYOU LOVE UUUUU......I haven't written yandere content in a while!!

Chan

He'll feel....almost proud. Proud that he has corrupted you.

"You like that? You dirty girl" His grip on your neck tighten, causing you to moan out, fuelling his pride. "Your fucking mine....you hear that?" Chan loves, feeling power just from choking you. Gosh, it felt so good. His thrusting speeds up, feeling you loose air. "Not yet baby" He wanted to choke you as long as a he could, he wanted to hurt you for as long as he could, he wanted to fuck you for as long as he could. "Not yet" He repeats, feeling you clench around him, your 3rd orgasm was approaching.

Lee Know

He felt....more possessive of you.

Hearing you coke, hearing you cry, hearing your begging...begging for him to coke you harder, it all felt unreal. "Want me to choke you harder? Is that what you want slut? "Y-yes" You manage to say, coughing harder as his grip tightens. You whine out, clenching hard around him, almost suffocating him. He wished he knew you were this dirty before he took you....he could have had so much more fun.

Changbin

Always manhandling you, always hurting you, always placing you in headlock....and finding out you liked that stuff....

Rutting into you like there was no tomorrow, Changbin groaned feeling you clench around cock. He continues his pace, slowing down, fearing he heard you wrong. "C-choke me" You say louder. Changbin had heard you correctly. Smile widening, he continues fuck you hard, brining a firm hand to your throat, restricting your air. Rolling his hips, his smile never left knowing he made you like this, knowing he changed you into this.

Hyunjin

You looked so gorgeous gasping for air....even more gorgeous when you asked for this.

"So pretty" He hummed, fingers wrapping around you neck, restricting more oxygen. Hearing you cry out, he knew he was doing it right. "Dumb baby" He cooed as you choked on your tears, fighting for oxygen, he loved you so much, crying for hi to let go, he may have gone to tight, trying to unravel his fingers, you looked so cute crying below him

Han

Taking it into hand, he may of went to far.

"F-fucking whore, wanting me to choke you like a slut huh?" Han laughs, teasing as your eyes well up with tears, continuing to degrade you, you wish you never told him this. "You crying? You asked for this bitch" His hips jack hammer into yours, showing no signs of slowing down. Sharing a kink should not result to this. "You need air? Did I say you could fucking squirm?" His eyes darken, pissed you tried to remove his hands. Clenching your throat harder, you feel yourself sleeping away.

Felix

Aw, his baby wants to get choked

"You want to get choked baby?" He smiles, hands ghosting over your neck. "Want me to hurt you? You a pain slut huh?" He laughs, fingers curling around your neck. "Don't worry baby, I'll give you what you want" He declares, closing off your air as he fucks your brains out, making dure your remember this pain.

Seungmin

Proud. Put into words, proud, put into actions, fucking you harder.

Hearing your polite command to choke you...he complied. Fucking you harder, thrusting in deeper as he took away your air. "Is this what you wanted? Wanted daddy to choke you?" He laughs, seeing how you pathetically nod your head. "Don't worry, I'll fuck you nice and good" Seungmin smiles, his hips speeding up as they slam down into you, knocking the remaing air out of your lungs.

Jeongin

Surprised but not complaining.

"Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you huh? Fuck you and choke you baby?" He laughs, his hands choking you. Feeling your moans vibrate onto his hands, his thrusts into you harder. "Should've told me sooner baby" He leans his head down, sucking your jaw harshly as his hips slam into yours, his heavy balls slapping your ass.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the diamond

lilac, chapter seventeen

a/n: idk if I should say i'm sorry or you're welcome. i guess it depends on what kind of day you're having as you read this.

summary: “did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, dark, angst, lumberjack AU, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, kidnapping, crying, violence, cliffhanger

word count: 1717

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You didn’t recognise the opulent apartment you now found yourself in. Not that it really came as a shock. You properly only knew of a fraction of the properties Preston’s family owned. 

With gilded details and tall windows, you did however recognise the view as the familiar twinkle of the New York City skyline sparkled back at you. 

Scarcely breathing, you didn’t dare to even shift as you sat on the edge of a bed, its red silk sheets burned the nerves across your legs and worsened the nauseating sting at the back of your throat. 

Turning back to face you, Preston stepped up close and said, “Let’s get this off of you, shall we?” before he slowly peeled off the tape covering your lips, but as soon as he had rid you of it, you reeled forward slightly and spat directly in his face. The angry dollop slid down across his forehead and over the still freshly pink scar that split his dark eyebrow. But, to your horror, instead of getting angry, all your action did was conjure a dark chuckle deep within his chest, “I missed you too, doll,” you watched him reach up and wipe the saliva away before his fingers drifted down into his pocket and produced a switchblade that he promptly popped out with a flourish. Sucking in a sharp breath, you braced yourself, expecting for him to strike, only he didn’t. The knife instead sliced the tape constricting your ankles and then through the ones at your wrists, “there,” he shot you a bone-chilling smile, “much better.”

Glaring back at him, almost in disbelief at the measures he’d evidently be willing to take, you shuddered, “I-I have a restraining order against you.” 

“You do,” he nodded matter a factly, “why, did you really think a little bit of paperwork could stop me? Could stop us from being together?” your frame jumped jaggedly as you felt his touch slither up your sides, “we’re soulmates, you and I. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can keep us apart,” he breathed as he leaned in closer and pressed his lips to yours. Staying as still as you possibly could, the sting of tears rolled down your cheeks as he soon leaned back, a sour look now tainting his features, “kiss me back,” he growled through gritted teeth, “we haven’t seen each other in two months, so kiss me the fuck back. Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

Choking down a sob, you willed your lips to meet his again, trembling fretfully as you gave him what he wanted, the forceful feeling of his tongue invading your mouth forced a petrified whimper to escape your lungs, one that he mistook as praise as one of his ring adorned hands came up to clasp your jaw possessively. 

When he finally pulled back, leaving just a sliver of air between you, a question left your quivering lips.

“Preston, where are we?”

“Nowhere important,” his dark eyes trailed one of the tears rolling down your face, “don’t worry, this is just temporary till the morning. Gosh, you look so beautiful when you cry…”

“W-what’s happening in the morning? Where are we going?”

“To this little island my dad’s got in the Caribbean. You’ll like it, trust me. It’s got some of the bluest water you’ve ever seen,” he smirked before briefly turning his head to the rough-looking man posted by the door as a guard, “hey, go fetch me a drink.”

“Right away, sir,” he complied. 

As Preston turned his gaze back to you, his head began to shake as it washed down the length of your body, “what is this dress you’re wearing? You know I hate you in green on you.” 

“I-I’m sorry. I could go change if you–” 

But your sentence crumbled into nothing as you felt the cold tip of his knife trail up your leg, “oh, there’s no need for that, doll,” the blade scraped over your skin, up the slit where your wrap dress had parted like a curtain over your thigh, never hard enough to actually draw blood, but just enough to rip up a layer or two of flesh. He continued after he reached the top of your thigh, dragging it up your velvet dress till he slipped it under the knot that held your garment closed, and cut clean through it. The slash didn’t automatically cause the dark green fabric to fall open completely, but Preston didn’t hesitate to unwrap you like a birthday present, “damn..” he groaned as he pushed the dress open, revealing your lack of undergarments beneath, “would you look at that… you’re not wearing anything underneath this… ” you squeezed your eyes shut as he then grazed the tip of his knife over your skin, from the peak of your breast to low down on your stomach, he trailed it like he would his wicked tongue, in some sick and twisted up way caressing you with the weapon, “tell me, doll, just why aren’t you? I’d love to think this is all for me, but you didn’t know we’d be reunited tonight, so who is it for?” rage gradually began to harshen his tone, “who?” as you found yourself unable to form any words at all, “is it that guy? What did you call him… Frank? Have you been whoring yourself out to Frank? Not wearing anything underneath your dresses and making it easy for him to just slide in and use what belongs to me?” nicking the curve of your waist, he then shook you as he barked, “answer me!” successfully drawing a shrill scream from your lungs as you squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

Just as you feared he’d give you more than just a shy scratch, the double doors to the bedroom creaked open and in stepped the guard. Without another word, Preston’s presence disappeared. 

Cautiously fluttering your bloodshot eyes open once more, you saw as the guard settled back into his place and Preston clutched a stout crystal glass, hastily downing the dark amber liquid before slamming it onto a side table. Trying your best to cover yourself back up, you watched as Preston folded up the switchblade and stuffed it back into his pocket. 

Letting out a deep sigh, he then dipped his fingers into his dark suit jacket, and from an inner pocket, fished out a small velvet box.

“I got you a new ring, by the way,” he huffed, opening it up as he stepped back to where you sat, “this one’s bigger, like I promised.” 

Sitting down on the crimson sheets beside you, he seized your trembling hand and slid the extravagant band into place, gripping your palm painfully as you glanced down at the massive diamond hauntingly glimmering back at you.

“You like it?” 

The silver felt as if it burned your finger, like it had been dipped in hot searing acid mere seconds before sliding into place over your knuckles. But still, you just offered him a shaky nod as more tears dripped from your chin. 

Lifting your glare from the colossal rock, you looked over at the guard and attempted to subtly catch his eye. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Preston swiftly noticed as his gaze never strayed far from you, “are you really so stupid that you think one of my guys will help you get away from me? Seriously? No amount of crocodile tears can get them to betray me,” locking his fingers around your jaw, you felt his hot breath graze the shell of your ear, “they’re loyal to me, to the Humphrey name,” casting his glace towards the guard, he snapped his free fingers, “hey, you! Look at my fiancé,” and to your horror, parted your ruined dress, “isn’t she beautiful? Answer me.”

“Yes, sir,” his reply had a military, nearly robotic lack of feelings to it, but nevertheless managed to still scratch Preston’s itch.

With his right, inked hand, Preston groped your breast firmly, “these gorgeous tits,” before sliding his unwanted touch further down your trembling body, “this round ass and this tight fucking cunt, all belongs to me,” he growled, before stretching his palm out towards the guard, “give me your lighter,” to which the harsh man swiftly obeyed, “I want everyone to know so, no matter what happens, no matter if you lose your ring again or what, I want everyone to know,” peeling his extravagant pinkie ring off, the swirly H that was embossed on it indicated it was his family ring that he now held in his grasp, harshly commanded the guard, “hold her still,” before he flicked on the lighter and held the flame under the seal, heating it up till the metal nearly glowed. Tuning out your screams of searing agony, Preston pressed the scorching crest to the very top of your exposed thigh and branded you like you were just a stock animal, “there,” he waved a hand for the guard to let go of you, “that should do the trick.” 

As you shuttered in pain, Preston drew you in so close that you ended up in his lap, your spine pressed up against his chest and a horrifying hardness determined beneath your bottom.

“What do you think, doll? Should I let him stand there and watch us fuck?” he rocked selfishly below you, “maybe tonight will be the night I finally knock you up–” 

His vile words were cut short as a series of gunshots suddenly went off on the other side of the door. 

“You,” Preston waved to the guard, “go see what’s going on.”

Pulling out a gun, the man then slipped out only for the symphony of struggle to fill the apartment further. 

“Shit,” you heard Preston mutter in alarm before he conjured his knife once more. 

But when the scuffle abruptly stopped and silence washed over the luxurious apartment, only a moment passed before the grand double doors slammed open and in the threshold, with a gun firmly trained in Preston’s direction, stood the blood-soaked visage of Frank. 

Moving just as fast, Preston shifted behind you, hauling you up to your feet and holding you to him like a shield as you felt the razor-like edge of his blade press against your throat.

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[440gallery]

Jealousy

Summary:: Neteyam must choose a mate. The girls from the village are fighting for him, and you're jealous. It ends in angry sex.

Pairing:: Neteyam x f!omaticaya!reader

Authors note: Characters are aged up around twenty

Content warning:: smut, violence (not much)

Word count:: 3.5k

Additional tags:: smut, jealousy, throat kink slightly, fist fight, angry smut, p in v, begging, riding that dick babessss

Coming back from the hunt with Neytiri, we gather the animals to the cookers across the hut, before approaching the Sully nest together, as she had invited me for dinner. Neytiri smiled lightly before our eyes fell away to two figures standing outside the nest. I raised my eyebrows, thinking it was only Lo’ak or Kiri but as we come closer, I recognized a female. And Neteyam. My brows furrowed as I felt the now familiar twinge of jealousy pulsing through me, the second Jake as Olo'ektan announced that his son was old enough for a mate. The girl stepped closer to him and i pushed my feelings down, making my way over to them, gollowing after Neytiri.

Shortly before the nest, Neytiri smirked and reached to tousle my hair before greeting her son.

My eyes fell on Neteyam, his figure strong and lean against the fading light of the day, eclipse nearing but making his features strong and in contrast to his soft voice. He leaned against the entrance from the Sully hut and whilst Neytiri spoke to him shortly, barely glancing at other female accompanying him, he certainly saw me, eyes glinting as he listened to his mother whilst his eyes were on me. She went inside and his attention was brought back to Liat, as she drew closer to him, bending her body in weird angles to show off her curves, leaning into him. His laugh echoed through the dim air as he seemed oblivious to her hand ghosting along his biceps.

Wariness coursed through my veins, seeing them together, knowing Neteyam could choose her and not me as a mate, since he was now of age. Every female knew and it was clear that now the hunt after him had begun. And even though I thought we were end game, sometimes it just didn’t seem that way. It made me realise that I wasn’t allowed to feel anything else but joy for him, and I hated that I couldn’t be happy for him when he so clearly deserved it. Gosh, but her hand! It made me itch with anger every time I saw another female tip toing around him, making their moves. Knowing Neytiri went inside already, I knew I should probably follow her, having taken the invitation to eat with the Sully family, knowing it was the best for me to just let this slide, since even when Neteyam was my best friend, he sure wasn’t feeling the same about me or even considered me his mate. Still, I couldn’t shake the annoyance from my features as I went over to them, giving Liat a glare before saying my greetings to my best friend.

“Teyam.” I nodded in his direction, seeing a smile bloom across his features, striking his beauty and once again taking my breath.

“Y/N” he said, moving his arm to slip it across my waist, pulling me into him, making me hide my smirk into his shoulder as he embraced me. Surely, I crashed Liat’s little show to get him to woo her. Sad, really. Neteyam’s fingers dragged leisurely against my back, sending a small shiver down my spine. I pulled out of his strong arms, still seeking the touch of his and the warmth but still trying to at least get some decency into the scenery. His smirk made my stomach drop, his arms still around my waist, his hand pressing flat against my abdomen, leaving me breathless, especially when his thumb began to draw little circles around my skin.

“How was the hunt?” He asked, his warm breath brushing my ear. I leaned into his body a little more, him taking the support in steading me, whilst I felt his muscled thigh against my backside.

“Good.” I said, before smiling and greeting Liat.

“Hello Liat.” She just threw me a glare, her eyes betraying her, showing every emotion she didn’t voice out.

“Hello, Y/N.” She said, faking a smile before bringing her attention back to Neteyam. “Nete, didn’t you want to bring me back to my nest?” she said, blinking her lashes up at him, trying to make her look sweet but to me she just looked stupid. As if Neteyam would find that attractive, but on the other hand, I didn’t know what he liked and what not. Neteyam sighed, quietly and only for me to hear, but it made me smile.

His hand squeezed my hip, before leaving me bare from his contact all together, only light touches before he turned back to me once more.

“You’re staying?” he asked and I smiled, whilst nodding to answer his question. His eyes glinted as he smiled, before sending me a wink.

“Oh, Y/N stays? Why can’t I stay too?” Liat asked, batting her eyelashes again making me want to rip them out slowly.

Neteyam looked conflicted but shook his head. I bit my lip to master the laugh that wanted to escape my throat because of her look in my direction.

“It’s better if you go back now.” He said, smiling, always the gentleman in front of others. Liat looked so disappointed that a laugh bubbled out of my chest, making her head snap into my direction, glaring daggers into my skin.

“Sorry, sorry.” I managed, before half turning to the nest, hiding the amusement across my features whilst facing the wall.

“Stupid bitch.” She muttered and I turned, raising an eyebrow at her hiss in my direction. A smirk grazed across my face as I neared her, but she stood her ground, which made me a little proud despite our dislike for each other. Many women cowered away from me, once they went vulgar but she stayed where she was, awaiting.

“No need to get mean.” I said lightly, my eyes ragging across her body, looking at her stance trying to predict her next move. She hissed at me, her eyes a burning fire.

“Liat.” Neteyam said strongly but I held my hand out, making him back off.

“Nete.” She said with pleading eyes, whisking over his body with a heady gaze, making me fume with jealousy. “Help me with her. She is just so disrespectful and interrupted our conversation. Why does your family even like her when she is so rude? Does she even know she is ruining your chances with an honourable mate of the clan?”

“Excuse me?” I said, offended that she considered herself already as his mate and disrespected not only me but Neteyam’s choice of a mate.

“You heard me.” She said, eyes fierce, making me want to lash out. “You are just a useless side piece of Neteyam which he occasionally uses to have fun with.” She cackled, before my fist collided with her face.

“Fucking bitch!” I said, my fist slashing across her face again, making her stumble to the ground, crying out.

“Oh, now you want to cry? God you little pathetic whore.” I whispered into her ear, tugging at her hair, hissing at her tears, lashing out of the corners of her eyes.

“Y/N.” Neteyam called out and I was on my feet on instant, fury transporting onto him, hissing as I stomped to him, his face stern as he looked at the situation.

“Stop it.” He said, and I lashed at him, my hand gripping onto his throat, pushing him backwards. He let me, his eyes colliding with mine, as a smirk plastered itself across his face, his eyes dark and deep, making me fight a shiver. His hand came to my face, as he caressed my cheek, his finger drawing along my lip.

“We both know you would win, but she is still a member of our clan.” He whispered, gripping my hand lightly which still clutched around his throat, not hard, but enough to show him I had control over the situation. “And as much as I love to see you fight, babe, use your energy for something else instead.” He said huskily, this time really producing a shiver down my spine. Breathing deeply, I let go of his throat, making him smirk, as I turned back to Liat, who still lay on the ground clutching her face.

“Move.” I commanded, looking at her in pity. “Before I come at you again.”

With a last hiss in her direction, she scrambled away, whimpering as she stumbled before disappearing. Still fuming, I took a deep breath, trying to still my insides. Neteyam’s hand pressed against my lower back, his breath hot along my neck.

“Come on, my fyole, let’s go inside.” He mumbled, drawing smoothing circles along my back, his fingers warm and gentle. I nodded, letting a breath escape my mouth, before going inside the nest with him.

“Well, that was a show.” Lo’ak said, chuckling as we came inside and I glared at him, before breaking slightly, dragging a hand across my face, groaning.

“I’m gonna be in so much trouble when she snitches.” I mumbled and cowered under the heavy gazes of Neytiri and Jake, sighing.

“‘Itetsyìp” Neytiri said, making me look up into her eyes. Her hand caressed my jaw, tapping along my nose, before she pinched my ear, making me yelp out of her reach. She just shook her head, but a small smile was on her lips, as she looked away. I bet I heard her say something like: “Never liked that Liat anyway.”

Jake sighed but said nothing as his hand drove through my hair and I settled between Neteyam and Kiri for food. Neteyam’s foot nudged mine and I smiled as our eyes met.

After dinner, Jake took me back, as Olo'eyktan it was his duty to put me into line. I had expected as much, still it wasn’t pleasant to hear that I needed to apologize to Liat for hitting her. I sighed before nodding my head, recalling what she had said. I wasn’t a stupid side-kick of Neteyam, was I?

Dragging my feet across the nest, I said my goodbyes and headed for our family nest. But I was still fuming inside at the words Liat had said, therefore I made short progress and went into the woods. It was probably not a good idea, time being after eclipse but I couldn’t care less.

Making my way into the forest I kicked the stones around, trying to let my fury out but it didn’t help really much. Clashing my canines together I tried to not let her words get to me, but it was hard, when I had nothing to get my mind of off things. Walking for a while I ended up at one of the little rivers and sat against the nearest tree, watching the water flow along the green ground.

“What’re you doing out here?” Neteyam asked, making me jump from my spot in surprise. I hadn’t heard he had followed.

“Nothing.” I grumbled before sitting back down onto the ground, pressing my back against the hard tree. Neteyam sat next to me, his body pressed up against mine, making me shiver at his warmth, not realizing how cold I was. He noticed of course, as he always did, and his hand came around my waist to bring me onto his lap. I bit my lip as our pelvises made contact, but enjoyed the warmth and comfort.

“Are you still angry because of Liat?” He asked as his hand came around my chin, holding my face in place so I couldn’t look away.

“No.” I lied, looking at him with all the fury that still pulsed in my veins. He knew it was a lie, everyone would. He smirked as his hands came around my thighs, squeezing the flesh underneath his long fingers.

“Use it for something else instead.” He said, letting his hands wander to my ass, cubbing the cheeks. My breath was heavy but I knew Neteyam and I therefore knew what he hinted at. And I was so damn furious, not only with Liat but also with him. Because he was supposed to choose me. So, I decided I would show him what he would miss, if he didn’t.

Straddling Neteyam’s lap, I kissed him hard, our mouth clashing against each other’s, his canines digging into my lip instantly, as if he had been waiting for it, making it bleed. Neteyam sucked on it, making me whine into his mouth, pushing my pelvis against his, rutting along his stiffening erection. Neteyam’s hand around my ass grabbed the flesh as he pressed me against him harder, grinding into me, making both of us groan out in pleasure. Seeing where this was going, my gaze went heady, but I wanted nothing more than this right now. Making him mine.

Flinging my cloth away from my pelvis and breasts I guided his head to my nipples and he sucked on them eagerly, wetting them with his warm mouth, salvia connecting with my skin, making me shiver. His other hand kneaded my breast, taking its weight into his palm, cubbing it roughly. My fingers whisked away his cloth covering his crotch and I gripped his heavy dick in my hand, spreading the pre cum along it’s tip, making Neteyam stiffen under my touch, his head sinking onto my shoulder, hands digging into my flesh as I stroked him hard and fast. But today wasn’t a time for pleasantries and we both knew it. Making sure he was hard enough I lined his dick up with my pussy before gliding onto him, welcoming the burn of the stretch it caused, making me hiss softly. Neteyam’s hands came around my hips, his fingers pressing into my skin, leaving marks as he held me on his cock for a moment, making sure I was comfortable with his size. But I wasn’t having any of it, wanted it to burn and stretch and hurt, as I pushed myself down on his cock, making him whine with pleasure the second I started, his head thrown back, sweat glistening across his chest, as my hands grabbed his shoulders, feeling the flesh tense and move under my touch. Ramming my pelvis against his, I enjoyed his moans for more, letting my fury ebb away into something else. Riding him furiously made me forget what everyone thought and talked by pushing all my frustration and anger into riding him senseless, letting me feel the moment, and just be with Neteyam, having him all to myself and being able to make him whine and writhe under my touch, letting him beg for more. No one else could do that and I took my satisfaction from it as I took his cock deep, my thighs meeting his with slapping movements, the slick sound of sex filling the forest air, body’s rutting against each other’s as I took his cock inside my pussy, as his hands explored my body, twirling my nipples, his fingers dragging a heady muster across my skin.

“Baby.” Neteyam murmured, thrusting his dick up, meeting my thrusts down onto his cock with force, letting him sink into deeper levels of me making me gasp. He smirked, hands grasping my hips, as we fucked each other with deep clashing kisses and forceful thrusts, that left my flesh read and heated. His balls slapped against my pussy but I couldn’t care less as I moved along his shaft, clenching it under my pussy, wanting him to surrender to me, wanting to see him giving in to me and the pleasure I would bring over him. I wanted to win. His whines turned more needy and he stopped my thrusts with a hand on my stomach, pressing down.

“Slow down baby girl. Otherwise, I’m going to cum way to soon.” He mumbled, breathing deeply to get control, but I wanted him to lose it, wanted to see him at my mercy, how he lost every fucking thought to my pussy and the way it felt around him. Slapping his hand away I moved swiftly around his cock, smashing our abdomens together, whilst pressing his body against the tree he leaned, trapping him in between it and my body, crushing down on him with every thrust, every stroke to show him who was in control. He groaned, his face one of pleasure and bliss, as he bit his lip to hide the groans escaping him. But I wanted to hear everything. How good I made him feel and no one else.

“Fucking moan if you like it Neteyam.” I pressed on, making my pussy clench around his cock, milking him inside of me, electing a deep purr from his chest as it heaved against me. “Let me hear how good you can take it.” I mumbled, laying a hand across his throat, squeezing. His eyes shot open, their half-lidded state dark and heavy now, creating a fire between us that was new and exciting. His grunts grew louder as I managed to move faster across his dick, my thighs burning with the muscle work but I couldn’t care less, wanted to see Neteyam tip over the edge and lose himself inside me.

“Come one Tey.” I murmured as my nails dug into his shoulders, making sure he felt every inch of me, taking him so damn good. My body felt hot and heady, my thoughts minimised down to searching the pleasure frizzing through my veins, feeling the blush stretch across my cheeks and boobs, sweat traveling down my spine.

“Give me what I want.” I said, inching him closer to release, as I rammed down onto his cock, sucking him in as he groaned and writhed underneath me, but I held him there, making him lose himself in his own pleasure, showing him how helpless he was.

“Babe, my fyole, please- “he begged and I bit my lip to hide the moan that wanted to escape my throat, as he begged. His hips snatched up to meet my thrust and our eyes locked onto each other’s, each of us powering us higher, pushing more and more, so that the other would come, seek release before the other. I smirked as I felt Neteyam twitch under me, his thighs shaking as he took deep breaths and his thrusts slowed, realising he would come any second. His groans grew louder and I took a final spurt, pushing along his cock, riding him heavy, letting my weight drop fully onto his cock, skin ramming against skin, as his dick glided inside of me without any resistance.

“Come on.” I hissed as I rammed down on him, making him whine and struggle underneath me with desire and the nearing orgasm I needed from him.

“Baby girl, please, I-I can’t- I”

“You can’t what?”

“Please- “he groaned and I felt him twitch again, making me clench around him, hard and long. He groaned loud and I felt himself pulsing inside me, his thrusts stopped completely as I rode him, feeling his white cum spurting inside me, marking me as his and his only. I smiled as I slowed on his cock, thighs burning, breath puffing out of my chest as I watched his face, scrunched shut with pleasure, his throat releasing tiny noises making me needy all over again as his hands dug into my hips with a bruising hold. Kissing along his chest and up his jaw I realised how much I enjoyed having the control over him, showing him I could give him so much bliss and pleasure all on my own, what he would miss when he would choose someone else.

His breathing slowed down as he opened his eyes again, a heady look in them as he kissed me with fierce emotion. It took my breath away as he pulled out of me, before sticking his fingers inside of me, making me whine into the kiss.

“Good Eywa, baby.” He breathed; his gaze held so much possessiveness that it made my heart flutter in my chest. With a swift motion he laid me onto the ground, kneeling over one of my thighs, heavy cock grazing my skin and he hissed softly. His fingers moved inside me, as he pressed his other hand on my abdomen, before he smirked. Biting my lips, my legs twitched underneath him as I felt the steady wave of headiness wash over me, the biting cool of the ground a nice distraction. His fingers moved fast, in and out and I felt myself arching off onto the ground and into his touch, moaning out his name as he let his talented fingers work inside me, digging and pressing and working till I felt warm all over.

“Teyam.” I moaned, heavy breathing escaping my chest as I reached my high and he smirked, pressing down harder against my stomach, making me squeal as his fingers pressed against my sweet spot. My orgasm came and I felt myself gushing out around his fingers, creating a wetness onto the forest ground, leaving it damp. My legs twitched underneath Neteyam as he rode me through my orgasm, before laying his body atop mine, fingers still anchored inside my pulsing pussy. Catching my breath, I laid my arms across Neteyam, breathing him in, dragging my nose along his neck, kissing it softly.

“God baby, you’re amazing.” He mumbled and I laughed lightly, moaning at the friction of his fingers still inside me.

“Better than Liat, I take it?” I asked and face palmed as I noticed how it came out. But it was true. Maybe her words did have an effect on me. Neteyam looked down at me, his eyes open and loving.

“I would’ve always picked you. She never stood a fucking chance.” He said, before connecting our lips together softly, sighing into the contact.

Finding myself nodding into the kiss, I smiled.

“Okay.” I breathed.

“Okay.” He repeated and in that moment, everything was just fine.

[amyriadofleaves]

outside it starts to pour — neuvillette | chapter four

synopsis: in the limelight of fontaine, the prying eyes of its people never truly tears their gaze off the iudex and you, the présidence du conseil d'état, which makes for baseless rumours to fester and echo throughout the theatrics of opera. you and neuvillette are challenged by the reputations the both of you are expected to uphold, and the weighty decision to navigate these intricacies rests upon the discerning judgement of fontaine's archon.

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ao3 : wattpad  ˚　.˚　

⌗ pairing : neuvillette x fem!reader ⌗ feat : neuvillette, reader, wriothesley, clorinde, sigewinne ⌗ warnings : a lot of blood?? ⌗ word count: 6.6k (a little longer this time teehee)

“I never knew entourages were your thing.”

You tilt your head. “How’d you know I had someone with me?” The image of the Chief Justice flashes through your mind for a moment.

Clorinde shrugs. “Some people from outside the Pankration Ring were babbling about seeing someone with the head of civil affairs. Were you always such a high reward person? Fame catch up with you yet?” She says this as she deepens her voice, posture straightened with her hands on her hips. Your eyes wander around the fortress, at the brass that graced every corner, seeing a few puddles pooling under a number of leaky pipes. 

Playfully nudging her arm, you snort at her jab. “You’re acting as if I’m some textbook rags-to-riches story. And no, fame has not caught up to me. I am no snob,” you tell her with a chastising look, but the attempt to steel yourself breaks when you feel your lips unwillingly quirking upwards into a smile, before you begin to shake trying to restrain your laugh.

It is not long before it infects Clorinde, too, and she falls victim to your foolish sense of humour. You lean on each other like two girls who’ve had too much to drink, afraid to let go lest one of you falls over; and you fail to notice the chiding looks of the people around you, but Clorinde shakes herself off before flicking your forehead causing you to stop your fit of laughter. 

“Gosh, remind me why I’m here again?”

“Oh I’ve seen you in your office, working away like a lifeless machine—” Clorinde feels at your arm. “What a pity. All that muscle is now reduced to flab.”

“Okay, ouch.”

Someone clears their throat from the other end of the room, and a manly voice sounds. “Hey. Clorinde. Get your friend over here so you can finally get to sparring.”

“Alright, alright,” Clorinde groans before dragging you by the arm to the ring; you stumble on the heel of your boot, stride broken by the unexpected force.

She chuckles at your clumsiness, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Come on, don't be such a klutz," she teases, her grip firm as she leads you towards the sparring ring. You shoot her a playful glare, feigning annoyance.

As you approach the ring, the shouts of brutes and the scrape from blade against blade pierces the air in a dissonant choir. Clorinde releases your arm as you stand at the very base of the stairs leading to the ring, and you square your shoulders — drawing in a long, sharp breath. Acutely aware of their eyes on you, you smirk. You are knowing how their eyes follow you — others, a bit more indifferent in the ‘affairs of the ‘overworld’’ so to speak. If you were any younger and naïve as you were,  you would’ve crumbled under their watchful eyes, but you know better than to have your weakness out for show, to be an open book. 

A man clad in a dark grey coat and haphazardly bound black bandages stands in the centre of the ring, eyeing your every move, and you see him smile to the duelist next to you. From description alone, you surmise that this is the Duke; and you take in how he is a lot more different in appearance than you last saw him: a little bulkier in frame, the pinch of boyish recklessness now discreetly tucked under the guise of responsibility.

A cheeky grin plays on his lips, before he gives you a bow. You return the courtesy with a light curtsy. It is a lie to say you aren’t a little intimidated, but you play it off by avoiding his eyes, afraid that he might see right through you and immediately think you an idiot. And you are not an idiot, you tell yourself over and over like a broken record.

“It is a pleasure to meet you again, Your Grace.” Your eyes stay trained on the floor before a chuckle breaks the silence.

Bewildered, you look up to face him and he waves a gloved hand in jest. “There is no need for such formalities. If anything, it should be me doing all of that. And plus, a friend of Clorinde is a friend of mine.” 

Clorinde sees right through his facade and dismisses it with a derisive ‘pfft’. “You certainly didn’t act like that when you first met me.”

“Oh come on my dear, dear Clorinde,” he places a hand on his chest in faux distress, a pout forming on his lips. “You know it isn’t like that.”

The duelist rolls her eyes before he puts his hands up in surrender and steps backwards.

The ring awaits, and you take a deep breath, ready for the impending spar. The crowd's anticipation adds to the pressure, but you push aside any lingering hesitation. Clorinde smirks, sensing your resolve, and steps into the ring beside you.

The announcer from the side announces the start with a rumble. “Let the sparring begin!”

The duelist bows her head, and you follow suit. Instinctively, you reach for the pellet gun at your hip as Clorinde does for her sword; it is an odd selection for a spar, and the crowd seems to raise a few eyebrows at this. Dejected as you are at the pellet gun resting in your fingers instead of your normal musket, you take this as an opportunity to give yourself more of an advantage with a slowing factor. A mere practice of skill, it was, really. 

Clorinde rushes in with a burst of speed, her blade flashing downward in an opening diagonal slash at your torso. You slip left of the weapon’s reach and step backwards, barely missing a cut by a finger’s breadth. You and Clorinde possess different skill sets: she requires a closing of distance whilst you have to create distance. 

A space separates the two of you and you slightly duck before firing a shot at her shoulder blade. The gun recoils against your arm and sends the bullet ricocheting against the wall and you stumble. Frustrated, you palm the holster of your gun and wriggle your hand to loosen your muscles. Can’t blame me for this, you think blindly, giving yourself a petty excuse for your blunder. Clorinde springs forward at the brief seconds of your imbalance and slashes at an angle. Rather than trying to escape backward or sideways, which you cannot do in time, you draw your gun as you drop to the ground on your back and you fire upwards. You cannot help but smile as the bullet hits her in the torso. 

She grimaces in stinging pain as the bullet falls to the floor. Rolling onto your stomach, you fire again from a crouch. From all the spinning, your vision swirls in a blur and your head is clouded. Without thinking, you stand and attempt to create more space, but realise you have unequivocally cornered yourself against the restraints of the arena. Before you can manoeuvre your way through the ring, the duelist comes in at full speed and you are given a mere few seconds to react. Clorinde slams her own blade into the path of your weapon with the intent of disarming you with so much force that you feel the impact reverberate through you like a shockwave. You fully expect the impending pain to come at any moment, but it never does. Instead, a resounding clash sounds from metal against ice echoes throughout the ring. You do not even realise the sword that comes to manifest through your fingers until you notice the gleam of light blue shielding you from the overhead lights.

A still silence fills the air as both of you widen your eyes in astonishment. Amazed gasps sound from the onlookers, and they are now eyeing you with more intent. You do not dwell on it for long before you bring your sword down at a speed, sending Clorinde staggering.

You cannot help but laugh. “And you called me a klutz.”

The look in her eyes almost shouts a flippant: 'I am totally fucking you over,' and it makes you instantly regret even speaking. 

Clorinde’s left hand seizes your hand, gripping hard. You let out a grunt of pain. With a light twist, she forces your makeshift weapon downward, and the numbing pain that grows in your wrist knocks the blade out of your arm, and you barely catch the glint of your own gun at the base of your feet. One final cry to win was you squirming in her grasp to reach it, but your fingers hover helplessly, unable to grab the grip of the gun. 

The next move you make is miscalculated, an oversight. You jab your elbow into her shoulder, overlooking the blade that she left hanging in the little space between the both of you. Adrenaline pumps through you like a vice, and you push further, forcing another blade of ice spiralling through your fingers, ignoring how you are completely stripped of your energy and the sudden humidity of the room. The crowd gasps, and for whatever reason, you do not pay it any mind — until you see Clorinde stopping too, stepping away.

Your eyes flicker haphazardly and notice that her eyes trail slowly to your abdomen, and you absentmindedly comply. At first you do not notice anything, but then the hand that had come to rest over your stomach comes away red, and you stumble in horror at the wetness flowing down your pants as if your intestines had given out. Your blouse blooms red too, clinging to your skin like a lifeline, and the forearm that clutched your stomach is now stained with blood, diluting further as it trails down the sword swirling with the condensate that rests on the ice.

Clorinde steps forward, but you hold out an arm to command her to stop. You can handle this, it is nothing you can’t bear. You take a few steps backwards, your free arm reaching for the rope that lines the ring.  Sweat beads on your forehead and suddenly everything is burning and your stomach is catching fire. Your heart thumps furiously against your ribcage and you greet the feeling like a friend; it is a familiar one, the same heart that beats whenever you are huddled in the corner of your room blocking out the shouts from the other end of the door along with other more unimportant things.

No. You can already vision how this would turn out for you. You cannot emerge from the depths of the sea injured and dead weight for the contract that stands. How will Neuvillette push through without you to serve as a catalyst? This was no one-man act, and this, you have come to terms with. 

With your blade still held and your resolve unchanged, you advance with a futile step. Might as well push forward now; it would be pathetic to surrender in a friendly match against your own best friend. 

Clorinde’s eyes flood with worry as you show no sign of yielding. “Name, stop. Let’s get you to the infirmary.” 

You are wordless as the pain festers to your upper chest and you feel as if you cannot breathe and all the air is knocked out of your lungs. People are going to think you’re weak, unable to defend yourself: a delicate worse-for-nothing figure. But I’m not weak, you want to scream at the world. If they think otherwise, so be it. The thought teeters precariously before ultimately shattering into the void of the unspoken.

The duelist looks over at Wriothesley pleadingly as she stabilises your weakened figure and eyes the audience with a sort of disdain. “I concede,” she says, before repeating: “I concede.” She also doesn’t fail to shield you from them, and you wish to thank her later for it. 

“Wriothesley, help me out here?” She manoeuvres herself so she can wrap your right arm around her neck and, expectantly, waits for Wriothesley to take your left.

“Yes ma'am.” 

Though you do not hear it, you see the silhouettes of many receding from around the ring in a blur. Black spots form in your vision and you barely catch Wriothesley taking your left arm over his neck before your consciousness lurches what it feels to be a sudden moment. A brief thought is pushed to the forefront of your mind before everything swarms black — and the question is as mundane as the person it concerns:

Just what exactly could the Chief Justice be doing right about now?

____

“Ah, my dear Neuvillette. Don’t you just love the taste of fame?”

Neuvillette’s eyes do not leave his paperwork and the last thing he wants right now is to be pestered by the lady in front of him. “Now’s not the time, Lady Furina.”

She steps forward, the thud of her heels growing increasingly louder in an act of taunt. “And when is the right time, Chief Justice? This is a breakthrough for your career, and you’re sitting around your office like a nobody when you’ve quite literally stolen the hearts of the whole populace.”

Neuvillette taps in rapid succession at a blank piece of paper, subconsciously counting the dots that spray from the quill in his hand. It is not everyday that the Chief Justice loses his temper. But today is not everyday and nor is it anything normal. He still feels your warmth against his ear, and he lightly ghosts his hand over it.

Furina snaps her fingers repeatedly. “Monsieur Neuvilletteee! Earth to you?”

He responds with a darkening glower. Looking away, he makes out the shape of her pout through his blurred peripheral vision, and hears her sulk. “I need to talk to you about preparations for the proposal! This is very important — go too long without one, and the people will think the two of you are simply an affair. Oh, I bet you don’t like the sound of that.”

“The proposal? We’ve barely gone a day with the approval of the contract, and you’re already pressing me for the proposal? Give her a rest, she is out with a good friend of hers. 

“Well obviously the proposal isn’t for today, I’m talking about preparations. You need to purchase a ring, she needs her hair done — perhaps a new dress tailored — I think the dress she wore yesterday was rather tattered and worn…” she tuts, finger on chin. “Oh! And I don’t think it would be much trouble to have the Melusines involved, would it?”

The silver-haired man sitting in his seat is being pulled from all his limbs like a puppet. He subconsciously notes all the things she had just listed, and his mind hiccups at the idea of purchasing a ring.

“Can’t it just be simple? Such exaggerations of a mere profession of romance shan’t be necessary.”

“But that is exactly the point! Don’t forget that I have my own duties to attend to in the dark, you are hot news. I saw how you two were this morning — everyone did!”

The flashing of cameras and the unwavering look on your face rushes through him like a deluge and his stomach pits. When he returned from his trip to the Fortress of Meropide, he had washed his face in a nearby restroom earlier and noticed the touch of lipstick on the very point of his ear. He found no point in removing it.

“So you want me to purchase a ring and propose to her in front of every breathing Fontainian, is that right?”

Lady Furina's smile widens a little too much and becomes a pain to look at. “Why yes, it is a statement of love and devotion, after all. Make sure what you pick makes her eyes pop. No woman wants a ring that dulls complexion.”

He does not care that it is him that has to oblige — but subjecting you to unwanted fame is beyond him.

Not wanting any further arguments, he caves. 

____

You are in and out of consciousness, but not so much that you cannot make out the panicked conversations the two are having in hushed voices. Funny enough, you're unsure if the fact that they can't find Sigewinne anywhere troubles you a little or if you're simply just drained and want to go to sleep.

“Can’t you walk any slower?” Wriothesley grunts.

Clorinde snaps back with a glare .“Can’t you realise we’re dealing with a gash that could tear open if you keep up this pace?” 

“Can’t you both,” your voice breaks off, and instead of continuing you droop your head before mumbling: “just shut up?”

The two people on either side of you are stunned into a chastising silence and if this were any different you feel that you would’ve laughed.

The man to your right clicks his tongue. “Oh, whoops. Forgot you were even awake.” He adjusts your arm a little too roughly and you let out a cry of pain as it doubles the sensation of your wound.

Clorinde smacks his arm and you slightly shift backwards at the lack of support. “What did I tell you? Okay — let's set this aside for now. We need her in the infirmary before her whole blouse gets drenched.” 

You don’t see or hear his response, and so you briefly imagine him having an indifference to this. Sure, it is everyday for him in the Fortress, but you do not know him very well, so he might have had a different reaction — perhaps a brief look at Clorinde almost begging her through his eyes for her to know what to do even though he, too, knows basic protocol? Plausible too.

“You’re going to need to take a deep breath for this.” The duelist’s voice is as monotone as ever, and as your lids flutter open you see that you are greeted with your archnemesis.

Stairs.

Not like they were anything too taxing; a mere five steps up and another few steps down and you’d be in the infirmary; but you instantly flinch back as they assist you with the first step, and you feel their arms grab for your back. You almost black out again the moment you glance at your abdomen but Clorinde promptly pushes your chin upwards so you don’t see the worst of it. 

“I don’t think I can make it up the stairs,” you say, defeated. You eye both of them carefully and they seem to almost weigh the possibilities and come to a solid conclusion (the word ‘solid’ is an overstatement).

“I mean we could bring the infirmary to her…”

Safe to say, Clorinde isn’t amused. “Wow, let's bring a whole bed out for everyone to see! Forgive me, but I won’t allow that for her. There are many problems on the surface as is, and I don’t think this paints a good image for her.”

As delirious as you are, you manage a nod in agreement and squeak out: “Whatever. Get me there.”

Wriothesley’s eyes are crazed as he looks at you with doubt.“W— you just said you couldn’t make it up the stairs.”

“...And that claim still stands. But what other choice do I have?” You say this through gritted teeth as the pain wells up in your side for the nth time this afternoon. The light peeking through the ceiling of the Fortress seems to dim and you take this as a sign that is just shy of dusk. 

Clorinde’s lips quirk into a small smile, and you miss it because you are unable to keep focus on anything except the blood you feel dripping into your slacks. “Alright. Just squeeze something every step you take. On the count of three:”

Wriothesley starts and they alternate. “Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

With a yelp, you grip firmly onto the man next to you and let out a sigh of relief when your feet touch another step of the staircase. 

“Next time, please grip me somewhere else.” You slowly eye where your hand lies and it is unfortunately somewhere not ideal. Oops.

“Not my fault you have a built-in stress ball,” you look at him and Clorinde and realise that you have four more to go. “OK. I think we can go at a faster pace.”

Clorinde’s hand leaves your wrist as she wipes her palm on the base of her shorts and finds your hand again. “Are you sure? You looked like you’ve walked ten miles and it’s been just a step up.”

You look forward and nod your head. “Affirmative.”

“Alright then.”

Wriothesely announces the count of three rather plainly and you grip somewhere else this time. You bite your lip harshly; you do not want to complain any more than you have and instead shut your eyes to steel yourself, but fuck, did it hurt more than the first time.

You thank the gods above that it did grow easier the more steps you took, and with having given Wriothesley more bruises than dignity you finally made it to the platform at the top.

“Tough part done,” you mumble, eyeing the corridor with contempt. Not as tough, you suppose, and push ahead, your arms still hanging limp by their shoulders. You can't help but notice your blood swirling in the pools that flowed from each end of the hall, but the metallic scent of the pipes overpowers the metallic of your own.

Your boots touch the ground with a heavy thump that echoes so loudly it feels like your head is whirling quicker and you can’t make out any object in front of you. 

“Smells like murder.” His attempt at lightening the mood does more harm than good, and through your lethargy you still furrow your brow. Clorinde berates him in a low voice and you don’t even attempt to say anything in response. It is awfully silent, and suddenly you wish he had continued speaking. You force your eyes wide open out of fear that you might not wake up the moment you close them, but you have to fight against your weighted eyelids, and it is, by a mile, a terrible battle.

Fatigue - 1, You - 0.

A light shines from your left and you let yourself breathe.

“We’re here. Just need to tough through another flight of stairs and you’ll be alright,” Clorinde comforts, lifting your right arm a little more after noticing that you were slightly being raised a little higher on your left because of the height difference between her and Wriothesley.

“Here goes,” you tell yourself. This is not the first time you’ve been in a situation like this. 

Just a bit of blood and you’re crying? You look just like your mother.

You do not particularly enjoy the feeling of descending the stairs, but at least it is better than ascending them, and faster too. No need for any counts to threes. 

You wring your arms out of their grips, and soundlessly stumble to the bed closest to you. Mindlessly, you slip into the slight depression of the mattress and the springs groan under a new added weight. 

Wriothesley frantically looks around and suddenly his head is in his hands. Clorinde seems to adopt the same wrinkles between her brows as the man beside her has, and they are both thrown in a panic. The duelist still appears calm and collected throughout, and you’re surprised that the ‘panic’ they are thrown into has been reduced to a civilised conversation on how to deal with you.

Unbuttoning your blouse reveals that it takes a lot of work to separate skin from material, and you feel something stir in the pit of your stomach, or lack thereof. Dried blood starts to flake from the chilly air and the skin lining the wound is swollen pink, puffy and tender to the touch. Turning away, you aren’t partial to someone like Wriothesley to seeing the other scars that are littered throughout your skin like a canvas, and you know it isn’t pretty. You do not like your idea on what you are to do next, nor do you think it’s ideal, but with nothing to show of Sigewinne, you have to take the risk.

“Clorinde. Pass me rubbing alcohol and a towel.”

Clorinde casts you a weary look. “Surely you’re not thinking to do what I think you’re gonna do —”

“Yes. It's exactly what you think. Now pass it to me.” You turn your head a little as your hands beckon her over, and she hesitates before reaching for what you asked for and passes it to you. You do not miss the long look she gives Wriothesley.

The items weigh like a burden on your hands, and you almost decide to hold out until Sigewinne arrives. Even though you know this is probably the worst choice you'll ever make, you choose to ignore the nagging voice and go forward with it because simply, you are impatient. And what good were you to the public if you were ugly and unkempt? You know that everyone and Lady Furina would find you ridiculous. Would the Chief Justice share the same opinion? Would he break his impartiality to think that of you? For a brief moment, the answer flickers to a yes, but you swallow it down like a pill. No. No, he wouldn’t.

“Shouldn’t be too bad.” Bracing for the sting, the anticipated pain hovers like a phantom before the fabric even grazes your skin, but before you can give yourself room to yield, you jab the cloth over the gash and almost scream at the sting. You keep your mouth sealed shut and only rapid pants escape your lips. The pain courses through your veins and suddenly every working limb is now subject to agony. You absolutely detest the feeling, and you were sure that you would never find yourself like this after your father…

Shaking your head, you distract yourself by observing how the blood seeps through the cloth with ease, and you begin to question just how much blood you’re losing and how your body hasn’t given out. But the answer to it is fairly simple. Or maybe it isn’t. 

Your composure is so frigid you think the Duke is beginning to grow a little uncomfortable with just standing there.

“You can look away.” Even though you didn't have much energy to begin with, you startle yourself by being able to talk coherently in spite of everything.Your mind is dumbfoundedly collected, almost as if trained; for this you know why, and you decide not to mope over the memory. It still does end up slipping through the cracks. 

The clean blade against skin. Your father’s nasty laugh as you let out a cry of defeat. The reopened wound triggers a cascade of memories, but you resolve to relegate it to the past: a mere memory. You know you will never see him again, the idea of closure long gone and ties severed. His name, once a burden, now fades into the recesses of your memory, and you find solace in no longer sharing it.

Wiping the blood around your wound, you robotically reach for a needle and thread next, and this time Wriothesley steps forward with his hand outstretched to finally say something. “Woah there. I think we’re gonna need Sigewinne for this one.”

Your arm retracts from the needle and you wave him off with a curt wave of your hand. “I got this under control, don’t you worry,” you declare, but the claim dies on your lips when you feel your eyes drooping and your limbs going slack and the two are thrown into another dispute. 

“We need Sigewinne!”

“She should be coming in about,” the Duke checks his watch. “Five minutes.” He steals you a glance and continues: “Hang in there.”

Clorinde tears her gaze off yours and her brows knit again. “Well what if she doesn’t ‘hang in there’?” Her voice is thrown into a hush, but you can still hear it, and she knows you hear every word leaving her lips.

You use this time to silently teeter to the open cupboard of needles and thread. Surprisingly enough, you look back and find them in their own world. Perfect! You take a generous amount of thread along with a few needles with different gauges and slyly return to your place at the foot of the nursing bed. You dab antiseptic on the tender flesh of your gash. The sting is something you never get used to, and a low groan leaves your lips, and your head tips over.

Clorinde whirls lazily on her heel and points a finger at you. “You. Stop playing a fool. Your wound will get infected if you keep going at this rate. And don’t think I can’t see what you’re trying to do when I’m not looking,” the duelist reprimands, and you can’t help but admit defeat. Hah! She thought.

“Yeah, OK. Shut up and come over here for a second.” You do not face her, but hear her slow strides from behind.

“What is it?”

“Come closer.” you place the needle under her fingers, and flick her forehead. A zap courses from her fingers.

“Ow?”

Her complaints morph into incoherence as you study the needle and find that it is warm to the touch and slightly blackened at its point. 

“Thank you!”

Feeling at your abdomen, you conclude that it is numb enough to begin stitching. The sanitisation is a mere precaution, because as much as you trust everyone in this room and the nurse that isn’t present, you cannot trust whatever might be in the Fortress’ air.  It takes a few attempts before you successfully guide the thread through. 

And before Clorinde can stop you, it is far too late. The needle pierces skin, and you squint your eyes at the discomfort. If you could manage one, you could manage seven more. You are nowhere adept nor do you have a steady hand, but you are quite proud of the deep cuts you’ve stitched up in the past; they still did their job.

The Duke’s complexion is nothing short of sickly as his hand flies to his mouth. “I can’t— I can't watch this.”

“You just don’t listen, do you?”

You smile wearily. “Well, Clorinde, that is my expertise.”

Just before your fingers swoop down for another stitch, a certain Melusine skips down the steps and pauses at the sight.

“Oh? What do we have here?”

Wriothesley scratches the back of his neck before cracking a smile that seems to say: ‘caught us!’. “Ah, Sigewinne! We were just looking for you. Now if you could tend to this high demand patient we have it would be greatly appreciated.” He points over his shoulder without turning his head, and yet the shaky undertone in his demeanour is unmistakable.

You give him a look even though his back is towards you.

Sigewinne nods her head. “Alright then. Let’s take a look…” if she’s surprised, her face betrays nothing. She waddles to the other side of the room and reaches for a new, cleaner towel; and you realise how comical a sight this is — with both the Champion Duelist and the Duke following her every move in silence as you sit stiffly on a worn mattress. She returns and studies the needle in your hand and holds her own paw-like hand out. Placing it in her hand, she dips the towel into a bowl of warm water and cleans the area properly this time.

“Take a deep breath in for me please.” you do not know why you silently follow her orders. “And out.”

That was your que to prepare for the second stitch. Not bad; it did feel less haphazard than your own. Sigewinne’s eyes do not leave your wound as she pops a question: “Will you need your entourage to escort you to the Overworld?”

Suddenly all your worries are gone and are now replaced with a new one. “My entourage? Oh, no, that wouldn’t be necessary.” The needle comes up from under your skin and her paws move downwards.

“Are you sure? I can contact him if you like.”

You playfully look to the side. “I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

Sigewinne unfortunately does not take the hint and questions your dismissal of your dealing with him. “But you were just with Monsieur Neuvillette just now, I don’t see why it would slip your mind. Unless you’re suffering from short term memory loss, that is.” Your eyes widen at the mention and you motion your hand to to your neck to stop her before she goes off on a tangent.

The pair standing on the other corner both seem to share the same concerns. Wriothesley quirks a brow. “Monsieur Neuvillette? Surely you haven’t made yourself fancy for the Chief Justice.”

“No, he is not my suitor; just a mere colleague of mine. Our relationship is strictly professional — that is all.”

The Duke smiles. “Yeah. Sure. That’s how it always starts. Workplace romance is a classic.”

Clorinde tilts her head. “What has gotten into you? Always blabbering about romance this and romance that.”

“You, Miss Clorinde, should be aware that I have always been hopeless for things like this. I am not as stoic as you or the Chief Justice of Fontaine.”

“I am well aware. I just choose not to acknowledge it — oh and…” she breaks off mid-conversation, leaving Wriothesley sulking like a defeated dog. “How has Monsieur Neuvillette been? I’ve heard that he’s been involved in some ‘scandal’, but I’ve been too busy resolving business. I haven't an idea what it’s about.”

Dread fills your gut as you come to another decision you have to make today. Either you tell her the truth or skirt over some details so she doesn’t tie any link back to you. “As it turns out I haven’t really been well-versed in the melodrama of the people, but from word of mouth,” your hand cups one side of your face as you whisper, “he has entangled himself with a commoner.”

Wriothesley and Clorinde both shout a distressed “What?” in unison.

“I surmise he hasn’t taken any of it into account,” the duelist guesses, shooting a blind shot in the dark.

Your lips curve into a leer. “He’s doing what he always does. His job.”

___

"M-monsieur Neuvillette! What brings you here?”

“Good afternoon. What rings do you suggest would suit...”

The jeweller, filled with the delicate hum of conversation and soft hushes of conversation, momentarily hushes in anticipation. Neuvillette, however, maintains a calm demeanour, allowing the flustered individual to collect himself.

The person takes a moment, clears their throat, and continues, “... suit your refined taste? We have an exquisite collection of vintage pieces or, if you prefer, more contemporary designs. Perhaps something that resonates with the essence of your intended occasion?” He glances nervously at Neuvillette, awaiting his response with bated breath.

“A simple engagement ring would be right up my alley. Your guidance…” He quickly searches for the name etched into his nametag and spots a ‘GATTINEO’ on his person “Monsieur Gattineo,, in finding the perfect ring, would be much appreciated,” Neuvillette states, and he smiles stiffly, unable to tell if he’s just scared the worker senseless or struck the first normal human conversation he’s had in weeks.

The person behind the counter nods profusely and points his arm to the left. “R— Right this way, monsieur.” 

Neuvillette gazes at the employee intently, studying the way his hands slips at the knob that seals the rings from under the glass display and slowly retrieves them, pushing the array of wedding bands toward the Chief Justice as if a single sound might shatter the fabric of time. 

The Iudex takes pity and reassures him that he ‘need not be so tense’, but whether the employee buys the claim is a story he does not remain privy to. Gloved hands pick a ring from the second row from the array and he holds it in the light, checking the glimmer of the diamond that sits snug under the hooks of white gold. Too dull, he notes, already picturing it against your ring finger. He thinks that you do not deserve such a ring of commonplace, and he politely places it back into its respectful place on the display.

He reaches for another, acutely aware of the growing pairs of eyes that are burning into his back. Another ring is victim to the light and he needs little inspection to know that this wouldn’t flatter you in the slightest. Scrunching his nose, he turns to look at other options. 

None seem to suit his taste.

Neuvillette stands stationary for a moment before noticing a glint to his right. It is a ring that appears lacklustre at first glance, but when he looks at it for longer, he realises that the ring is not as uninteresting as it initially seemed.

He points at it through the glass. “Would you mind if I take a look at that one?”

“Why, sure. It is a latest addition, monsieur, and is very much flattering on any bride.” The Chief Justice, who is ever impartial to opinions, disagrees. He does not think it is flattering on just any bride.

Its centrepiece is a gorgeous sapphire, and his mind immediately shifts to the casual blue undertones of the clothes you wear. It would certainly complement her eyes, he thinks, picturing the glimmer of blue on your skin. It would make your complexion ‘pop’, as Lady Furina had said. It is nowhere near extravagant, but keeping it simple is to make a statement. 

He pinches the ring in between the pad of his thumb and index finger. “I would like to purchase this — does it come with a box?”

The worker is stunned, eyes practically popping out of his skull. “Y—Yes! It surely does. That would be one hundred thou—”

“Please, put it on my tab.”

Now the worker is really ogling at him. He hasn’t even heard the full price! He figures up how much he will get for this commission, and it will buy him a luxurious lifestyle for several months. Heavens above, he really was lucky today. 

“I can do that for you. Just give me a moment to get the box from the back.” The man scutters away, and the conversations around Neuvillette are now brought into vivid technicolour.

“Is it for the woman in the tabloids? I heard she’s the newly employed head of civil affairs.”

“She really has done everything under the sun.”

The Chief Justice’s ears perk at the phrase in response. “You can’t trust everything you see in the media. Looks to me that she’s only in it for the money.”

“You are right… Perhaps it is a calculated move to push her way through the ranks! What a sly, sly woman she is.”

Are they seriously speaking about you around the very man that dictates the verdict of whom is guilty? That kind of daring makes Neuvillette's eyes narrow. He does not wish to entertain their idle gossip, but he also can't watch while his future wife is being disparaged in such a manner. To him, your resilience is remarkable. That, is one aspect of your character that he truly admires. But one thing rings true: fame comes with a price.

Neuvillette’s jaw ticks, and his warm, serene mien freezes over, his glare a piercing chill. He composes himself, and turns on his heel with a rigid calm. The words that leave his lips send the people’s blood running cold.

“If you are to speak ill of the woman I am to propose to — and that is certain — I hope you see to it that the repercussions are to be nothing but shy of being remarkably uncomfortable. ”

a/n: this one kinda strayed off my outline if im gonna b honest but like are we really complaining cuz PROTECTIVE NEUVILLETTEE OGME

taglist : @sek0ya, @souxiesun

[matthewswifeyx]

Wedding day

Y/N's POV

The day had finally come, me and Matt's wedding. I don't know how long I have been waiting for this day but it was more than I could dream of.

I was currently doing my hair and makeup, I couldn't wait. I heard a knock at the door. "Come in!" My mom entered the room. She had such a big smile on her face. "You look so beautiful honey!" I smiled back. "I'm so nervous, but I can't wait to see Matt." I confess. "You'll be just fine hun, all of those butterflies will disappear when you see him." I feel a little bit better and continue to get ready.

MATT's POV

"Wow man, you look great!" Chris says while putting his hand on my shoulder. "Thanks man, I can't wait to see her." I start blushing even thinking about it.

Gosh, I love her so much. Ever since the first day I saw her sitting on that bench in the park reading I just knew I would never be the same.

I hear a knock on the door. It's Nick. "It's almost time Matt, how are you feeling?" "Great. The minutes are feeling like hours at this point." Nick senses my nerves. "Of course you're feeling that way, I'm proud of you man. You have made a good decision." "Thanks Nick, I appreciate that." I pause. "Do you guys mind giving me some privacy?" "Having second thoughts already?" Chris jokes. I give him a stern look. Both of my brothers laugh and head out the door.

TIME SKIP-Y/N's POV

Before I knew it, I was ready to walk down the aisle. It was a breezy autumn day, just like we had planned it. I meet with my dad by the doors and we get ready to start walking. "You look fantastic sweetie." I smile and give him a kiss on the cheek. The doors open and my eyes meet Matt's. He looks so handsome. A wave of emotion rushes through me as I take my first steps. My grin doesn't leave me the whole time I was walking.

MATT's POV

The doors open, and I see Y/N. She looks flawless, as always. Suddenly, i feel a lump in my throat forming. I see that she is on the same path. It has all come down to this moment. The moment when I used to watch her read on the couch thinking how good she would be researching for our wedding. The moment where she would show me all of her new jewellery and think how good she would look with my ring on her finger. The moment when she would try on all of these dresses but I would think how good she would look in the wedding dress for our wedding. It has all come down to this moment that I have been waiting my whole life for. From the veil on the top of her head to the heels she wore on her feet, she had never looked so perfect.

Y/N's POV

I reach the end of the aisle, I realise all eyes are on me. I had been so distracted with admiring Matt that I forgot all about how many people were in front of me. "Hi." I say nervously. "Hey." Matt responds smiling. Everyone starts to sit down before the officiate starts talking.

"Welcome, loved ones. We are gathered here today to join Y/N and Matthew in holy matrimony. Now for the vows."

"Matt, I promise to cherish you always, to honour and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us."

"Y/N, I promise to cherish you always, to honour and sustain you, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to you in all things until death alone shall part us."

"May I please have the rings?" The officiate looks to my younger cousin. She waddles over to hand the box to the officiate. The air is filled with 'awws' and small chatter.

"With this ring I, Y/N, take you, Matthew, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."

"With this ring I, Matthew, take you, Y/N, to be no other than yourself. Loving what I know of you, and trusting what I do not yet know, I will respect your integrity and have faith in your abiding love for me, through all our years, and in all that life may bring us."

We put our rings on our fingers and hold hands.

"By the power vested in me by American Marriage Ministries and the state of Boston, I now pronounce you-"

I didn't catch what the officiate said, instead he was interrupted by Matt smashing his lips into mine. I had never felt so happy. I smiled against his lips and pulled away, giving one last peck before turning to the crowd clapping and cheering for us. I glance at Matt. He is already looking at me. "You could have waited for the man to finish." I says cheekily. "I don't give two shits, I waited far too long for that."

Hey guys! Hope you really enjoyed this! This is my first fanfic so please be nice, or give me some tips if so! I can do more of these fanfics if you would like, just send me a request!

[gh0stsp1d3r]

- anon

https://www.tumblr.com/gh0stsp1d3r/756829475477520384?source=share

don't stress about not being able to write sub!characters, because i was kicking my feet, giggling and blushing the whole time reading it, needed a lot of 'alone time' afterwards and i've come back with another filthy, SLUTTED out request because you write Aemond Targaryen so well (please i'm ovulating so... that's my excuse for how whorish and dirty this req is x)!

a lil 'friendly fire' breaks out between Aemond and his oldest nephew, jacaerys, in the training yard which reader sees!

(we can safely say that Ser crispin Criston Cole would be Aemond's wing-man...) so Ser Criston coal Cole suggests a spar between them and Aemond REQUESTS for readers' favour x her hankerchief!

she fetches it from where it's tucked inbetween readers' breasts (pls i'm just basing this off of what i saw Alicent do for Ser Criston Cole) and it smells of reader x

time-skip! here's the fun part: (had to add a backstory, can't reveal my desperation for this man so obviously) he masturbates afterwards to our the hankerchief

he's thumbing at the slit, squeezing slightly at the base before inhaling her scent scent/hankerchief which his hips stutter at — bucking up into the air in search of tight, velvety friction which all he has is an oiled, calloused hand to 'satisfy' himself the best he can with instead (mans is thinking of readers breasts too, staring so intently like a predator it's prey when she fished out her hankerchief)

and it just isn't enough! so he hesitantly flips over on his stomach, positioning a pillow inbetween his legs and all of a sudden he's acting like a 'maiden' — nervous and all exposed, it's a pity, but then he remembers he's a zaldrīzes (dragon) not a virgin about to lose their maidenhead on their wedding night

he starts humping his pillow, High–Valyrian falling from his lips as he clutches at his pillow — hips rocking back and forth, him imagining the pillow is readers puss and gasps and chokes are escaping the back of his throat and! he's stuffed the hankerchief in his mouth or he's got it clenched in his hand, remembering your praise when he won against his nephew – him fondling with his 'stones' balls — the swell of pride he felt when he saw you applauding him and degrading Jacaerys saying (something along the lines of...) "You're inexperience is showing" etc... that it's all just too much that he comes!! stuttering reader's name x

oh my gosh you deliver with these asks so much. crying.

gonna go write this tn 🏃🏽‍♀️🏃🏽‍♀️ sorry this took me a while to respond but holy this ask is so

[peachy-cheeks]

We Still Have Time (arrival)

week: one | two | three | four

word count: 1,390 words

characters: Gojo Satoru x gnc reader; (minor: Ieiri Shoko; Ino Takuma)

warnings: not much... just a little angsty and contains spoilers from Chapter 222

a/n: Special one for the manga readers... Someone else's post recently reminded me of all the characterization and plot development we got in Ch. 222 (angel numberrrr) and gosh... I missed so much on the first read...? Anyway, this takes place in that chapter and since there's a time jump... I'm open to making chapters of this...? We'll see... I also don't even want to speculate on where the manga is going atm... (though... I imagine Yuji might be okay after all... despite evidence showing otherwise... just going off vibes and a feeling :) ...)

There was a bone-aching shiver that ran throughout your body upon hearing that Satoru had made it back alive. Uncaged and solemn... greeting the enemy before all else. Goosebumps and a pinky hue speckled your skin. Your cold, almost clammy, palms sank into the pockets of your pants as you hurriedly walked towards the autopsy room to see for yourself.

You wondered what state he was in; What condition his body was in, of course, but more pressing... what state of mind.

Naturally, Shoko and Kiyotaka would be somewhat comforting faces for him to see relaying the series of events and list of devastating casualties that took place in his relatively short absence. For you, the heartbreak that those three held as witnesses to a timeline of their dwindling peers was unfathomable. While you knew extreme loss in your own way, you were not burdened with the same revocation of friendship, tenderness, and love that they knew... only to be met years later with a body snatcher that aimed to take even more from them. Never mind the generations of stolen youth they've personally contended with and have been tasked to facilitate.

The sound of parallel footsteps coming closer broke your train of thoughts. Looking up from your feet, you caught Takuma's woeful face. Offering a brief, slight smile to greet the younger, a wave of bittersweet knowledge seemingly hit you both.

"He's okay... Ieiri-sensei is there still. I think he's still processing, but I imagine he'll be happy to see you."

So many others weren't okay. Takuma's face still showed shadows of being tragically battered weeks ago. The back of your throat trembled as you nodded.

"Thank you, Ino-kun."

The air took a noticeably cooler turn as you continued on. Heartbeat shaking through your eardrums, you began to peel back the curtain separating the room from the hall.

Shoko, leaning against the stacked morgue freezers, took a final drag of her umpteenth cigarette and sighed. To her right was Satoru, sitting sukhasana, using a gurney as a chilling, makeshift seat. As the ember of her cigarette faded, her gaze shifted from the strong, hunched over figure to your face. She pushed off of the wall and walked towards you.

"I'll leave you both to it."

She could have stayed, but she knew how to take a hint. The shake of your pupils and shine along your waterline did all the pleading you could manage. Shoko swiftly left and with the drop of the curtain you looked towards the shining, blue pools that pierced through your heart and peered directly into your soul. He was there... whole... in one piece. But your feet felt numb and legs unstable. You inched closer to where he sat.

"Hi..."

"Hi."

"You look nervous."

"...You don't look nervous enough."

"Hmph."

A muted chuckle slipped from his pretty lips as he looked down, head tilted in thought. He nearly looked unchanged... like he did when things were... better. Effortlessly beautiful. Almost unbothered. But the collective strife, pain, and terror shared amongst your peers visibly weighed on his slumped shoulders.

His eyes quickly returned to your slowly dampening face, your palm smearing the tears that trickled from the corner of your eye. He wordlessly studied your sorrowful expression, taking a moment to fall into the gentleness and delicate features of your face that he missed.

"I don't mean to... can't help it..."

Your voice was so quiet but frayed with exasperation. The room felt so silent. The cold in the air shot straight to your bones and gnawed deeply at you.

Even sitting up, warm, alive and breathing... you hated seeing him on that stretcher. Letting your hand drop to rub the excess of tears along the cloth of your pants, you figured that allowing the stream to simply fall would help you regain control of your thoughts.

"I'm s—"

"Don't. If you apologize then I'll really have to."

Truthfully, you both knew that an apology wasn't really in order. The need for atonement was out of character for you both. There was no space for regrets, uncertain decisions, or speculation on what should have happened. Victims of circumstance... the unique strengths that brought you both close doubled as targets on your backs. Satoru knew this best, as did you. Haunted creatures responsible for keeping the world upright with little hesitation.

But these desperate moments where no length of explanation... no amount of gentleness... could soften the ache of carnage... these moments dragged across you and Satoru's consciousness reminding you both of every small, even menial detail and decision that led to this moment of deep sorrow.

Maybe you both felt guilty about the accidental distance... maybe this reunion triggered a preemptive need for care, coddling even, before things— out of your control— got worse (again); a chance for you both to get love right this time.

Soft taps of his calloused hand along the nylon gurney brought your focus back to the present.

"Come sit."

You sniffled and carefully hopped onto the surface next to him. Sitting together atop, Satoru took your hand with a firm, confident grasp. His other hand moved to your chin, tilting your face to his. His thumb rubbed your cheek in a soothing motion.

"Hey... no crying. I'm not going anywhere."

Consoling you... even through his own silent grief, past and present... even with the knowledge that the next five weeks could very well be your last together.

"When will you leave again?"

'Again'... the hair on the back of his neck stood up. He knew what you meant but the tinge of sadness in your voice extended to his heart. That was a selfish thing to say. The hand stroking your cheek sweetly swiped your hair away from your face.

"December 24th. There's time..."

You held back a rebuttal of 'Yes...but not enough.' Embarrassed, you resisted the urge to bow... no, bury... your head to avert your eyes.

"Don't start mourning me while I'm still here."

The look in his eyes was patient and loving.

He pulled your head closer to him and kissed your forehead, eventually reaching to take your other hand into his. The physical contact provided a short wash of calm that fell from your head to your toes. He was so much more present than what you had the capacity to be in that moment. But you wanted to at least try.

"How do you feel..."

"Uh... hmm..."

He genuinely stops to think, the permanent cuteness in his face softening the blow of the conversation.

"I've been better. I think I've been runnin' on pure adrenaline..."

A beat.

"If I saw you all before finding Sukuna and... that other fuckin' fraud..."

A beat. Your slowly unclenching demeanor gave him the nod to slip into the level of honesty you two were used to.

"I'm... not sure if I would've come back."

Your hands squeezed his, acknowledging the truth of his emotions. He knew better and you knew that too. He was a smart, resourceful fighter and he was planning on storing his anger and hurt for the right time.

"A lot of shit went wrong..."

"I know. It's not your fault."

"... I appreciate that..."

"It's true."

You struggled to find the words to elaborate as the inklings of guilt and anguish circled the conversation.

"You guys saved me... saved a lot of people... This is all pretty cruel isn't it... our job is kinda the worst."

His face was a bit flushed; ocean eyes damper and softer than usual. In all the raw and unpretty emotion you observed over the years as friends, lovers, and partners, you had never seen Satoru cry.

His hand reluctantly parted from yours to push his hair out of his face giving you a chance to break and collect yourself. You looked towards his heavy fingers still laced around yours.

You wanted to tell him that you were petrified. Horrified for you all, but especially for him. Scared for his life, no matter how invincible he looked or felt. He probably already knew.

The intensity of his stare bore into your spirit; your anxieties and love observed in full with all six eyes. After a few seconds of slow breathing, you raised your view to meet his.

"Satoru... I love you."

"I love you too."

"Make them fucking regret everything."

[sab-teraa]

Tye Talks: A Diary Entry

(22/02/24 || 22:58 pm)

Good evening friends, I hope you are all well and having a lovely Thursday! Just one more day till the weekend! Yay <3

Inspired by the lovely @the-winds-of-destiny-xxx , I've decided to start blogging about my day. Hopefully, I will be able to stay up to date lol.

Work

Ugh, I've been up since 5am prepping myself to deliver my second lecture of the semester. It went well, kinda. The students were super interactive which is great. Application + practicality > regurgitating information. They did super well. Also, we have a new HoD, and while I really liked our previous heads, the new HoD is a breath of fresh air and I really enjoy their approach towards education.

My full-time job is actually soooo … atm. My colleague has resigned which is all cool and I wish her the best.

But, there’s a trend I’ve noticed recently within our organization … and I hope it does not present any problems in the future. Tbh, I think it has presented a problem before … but idk. Anyway, constructive criticism goes a long long way … only if you’re keen and willing to learn …. which this person defo is NOT.

Enough about my colleagues, the CEO presented me with an opportunity but I'm lowkey nervous .. bc I prefer being a private + somewhat anonymous person lol, but I obviously said yes. Let's see how it goes, anything can happen and this whole project might fall through. Especially in this economy.

All in all, I really love my job and the career path I’ve taken. I hope it does not backfire on me later on in life.

Uni

Gosh. Uni is the bane of my existence atm. Tho, i did make a bit of progress on my thesis today. I know exactly what I need to do, but I just don't have the motivation to it. But, I think I've finally got myself together .. so let's see what happens.

Also, I'm so grateful for my thesis supervisor <3 she is so understanding and supportive.

Health

Is this tmi? Maybe? Apologies if so?

But, my nose and throat have been KILLING me recently? Idk if it’s bc of the fan or what … but yup. Thank god for cloves! They’ve helped wayyyy more than anything else I’ve tried lol. Also, my pms is really starting to hit 😭😭 I’ve been in soooo much pain since I got back home.

My mentally, I’m doing okay … there’s obvs moments in the day where I’m like shit?? I’m an adult adult?? Yet my life feels so stagnant 😂 but then I try to keep it moving and not think so much about what I want … and I try to focus on what I do have…. bc I’ve done my best.

Fun and mundane

I finally got to go to my first gym class of the week - I really needed that! The housewives from my class invited me for smoothies afterwards … and they are so fun! Are they my mums age mates? Yes 😂😂 but I loved hanging out with them .. they truly live in their own bubble .. I wanna be exactly like them when I’m older lol.

Oh Oh! And I finally finished the second season of Al Rawabi School for Girls ... flip, it truly broke my heart. What an amazing show.

I really wanted to start the new season of Real Housewives of Durban … but the new Showmax app is truly YUCK! I have the ick 🫠🫠 but, I love the show waaaaay too much, so I’d probs get over it soon lol.

Other than gym and catching up on tv, I made a delicious lasagna for dinner. I'm convinced that my homemade meat sauce and cheese sauce remains undefeated, or maybe that's just me being cocky lol. If I had more space, I would have defo attempted to make the pasta too.

I'm super excited for this weekend bc my friends and I are going to this art and music event and getting food afterwards. I also really wanna buy that duvet set I saw online ... since I'm no longer purchasing an apartment (recession boo boo boo 🍅🍅🍅), I may as well just re-do my current apartment lol. It already looks great, but I've been putting off getting a new duvet set bc I presumed I was gonna buy a bigger bed lol... so I've just been rotating between the two sets I have ... and damn they've seen better days lol.

Relationships

After all he has been through, my brother finally has some great things happening. I am so proud of him. I know he will achieve everything he aspires to <3 This has also done wonders for his self-confidence, he truly needed this, and I hope ... I really hope that it stays on this positive track.

Positive family news aside, idk if anyone saw the post about my uncle? But god damn I'm annoyed af. (Side note: He is my mums cousin btw; but my entire family is close). Anyway, my uncle called my mum to rant … and according to my mum he was sooooo proud of what he said to his wife??? I’m just disgusted. Idk how. His wife could forgive him for this. I’m so glad my mum put him in his place ✋🏽✋🏽✋🏽

I know its not about me and I have no right to speak on other people's relationships, but I hate seeing people put their all into a relationship and even go against their own family to be with someone ... only for their partner to treat them like this. His wife deserves soooooo much better and its sooo heartbreaking that she has to go through. My heart truly breaks for her. I pray everything works out for her.

Conclusion

Anywho … if you made it this far! Thank you for reading my ramblings <3 wishing you a lovely day! Stay safe babes 😘

[wifeglor]

9, 19 — and 21 for dealers choice of character!

Thank you so much for the asks, and for making this fantastic ask meme!

9. How did you learn to write smut? Were there specific fics or authors that inspired you? Or novels/movies/other texts?

Hmm gosh. I think I've been mostly influenced by fic-reading. I'll go through phases where I read a LOT of fic, including smutfic. After reading/watching some new thing I tend to go through the AO3 tag at speed like a baleen whale consuming krill. Also, reading enough smut fic really gives you a sense of like, the words and moments and acts that come up such that it makes it feel doable to replicate (not saying it's "formulaic" but I was internalizing some of the formulas). And chatting with fandom friends, sort of writing out AUs in a nearly-rp-but-less-structured style, which is something I've been doing in um graphic nsfw detail for way longer than I've written actual smutfic to post, has I think also been really formative in terms of my writing.

But also, I think I've been heavily influenced by the stuff I liked in media in general (and still absolutely am, though for purposes of this question I'm listing the formative oldies). Honestly, rarely sex scenes themselves (though them also), but more the tropes and emotional beats or separate images that really grabbed me and seemed "sexy." Thinking of villainous moments ft. shirtless Gwaine and Morgana from BBC Merlin LMAO, formative. LotR naturally. The Queen of Attolia's descriptions of Irene Attolia, Name of the Wind's descriptions of Denna that baby me had memorized whole paragraphs of by heart--stuff that was plausibly kinda unhorny in these books but in reality sooo very horny. But also various depictions of sex, like the touching & radiant-with-light sex montage of Alicia/Julio's finally getting together in the TV show Gran Hotel. Also, for unbridled PASSION at the MAX despite no actual sex, Sienkiewicz's Trilogy of historical novels, which I wrote my first smut fic for. I also read romance novels ft. erotica from time to time and enjoy them a lot (if there's sufficient DRAMA), and I guess I internalize what I feel like "hits" (or doesn't, ha) in the ways that genre does sex too. It's only been fairly recently that I started to write sex in more detail in my fics and less as like a sort of brief "tasteful" "artistic" (lol) moment--those "moments" gradually grew more description. like a mold--and I still think that kinda shows in my writing in the ways the detail is sometimes not as present or bodily as it could be, and things can get glossed instead of closely inhabited. But hey I like it and am having fun :D

19. Share a favorite passage from one of your smut fics.

Hmmmm hmm. I like this one, from yes many and beautiful things (unwieldy fic but really dear to me still):

Maedhros doesn’t resist him, not on this. When Maglor coaxes pleasure from his scarred body, Maedhros lets him.

He was unmade for pleasure in Angband. He had sought to render himself the unbreakable shackle to the mountainside, the sheer cliff—but Maglor plays upon him as well as any instrument, transforming him into something alive and enjoying. Maedhros barely hears the low, ragged noises he makes, barely sees the gleam of Maglor’s eyes beneath dark lashes, as he spills down Maglor’s sweet-voiced throat.

The silence is no silence—it is Maglor choking and swallowing and Maedhros panting, the air about them like a tide in his ears.

Maglor wipes his mouth and looks very pleased with himself, though he struggles to catch his breath. His eyes are dark and dizzy.

Maedhros seizes two scraps of his strength and tugs Maglor up to him by the shoulder, none too gently. He kisses him and devours the sweet startled sound, the taste of his pleasure in Maglor's mouth, the flush, full press of Maglor's cock against his thigh as Maglor falls in a graceless drape atop him.

"Maedhros," Maglor keens.

The Sindarin name makes Maedhros all the more desperate. Yes, they are here, not in Aman; that is his name—and Maglor wants him anyway, has— And Maedhros kisses him again, winding his arms around him, pleasure still uncoiling in his own flushed body. He can feel each tremble of Maglor's, holding him so close. At last he tips awkwardly into pressing Maglor upon his back instead and unfolding him. Maglor gasps like a rustling bough when Maedhros palms over him, and both their hands trip over each other reaching for the vial of oil in its niche. Maedhros is quicker, and he tugs the cork free with his teeth.

(the VIAL OF OIL lolol... but still...)

21. Share a smutty headcanon about [character(s)].

Finrod is an effortless and true neutral switch. He just wants to have fun and he just wants his partner to have fun. I feel like he's so comfortable bottoming that that might happen more often in his long and varied life, but where that comfort and willingness comes from is the same place as the wellspring of confidence and affection that makes him such a good dom and/or top. xoxo

[krabmeat]

oh my gosh finally finished this short story

STARTS HERE vvvvvvv

You did it.

Decades upon decades of strife, you watch the ashes swirl and settle around you, dancing in honor of your glory. You look out to the crowd, their screams, three cheers for you filling your senses senselessly. The obstacles are knocked over, shattered to hollow, porcelain pieces in your path as you trailblazed a new one. You helped so many people.

The crowd spans across the thousands, screaming and crying praises in your favor. You stand on a platform of glory that feels like the highest horse in the stable, knees locked into place to show faux stability in your figure as you look upon the masses that only know you on a first-name basis and the context of the future you planted.

It takes a while to uproot a field of weeds. Weeds aren't stagnant, as much as their stalky and stubborn stems might suggest- no, they spread. Each tug of one shakes twenty seeds back into the soil to restart the cycle again, hopeless if you want to plant a new flower. Poppies, irises, forget-me-nots, cornflowers, pleas, cries for help, faithfulness, impossible to grow in such an overrun plot of soil. Detoxing the dirt is the only way to grow these flowers, but if that isn’t a motherfucker to do.

Your superiors look down on you. They crouch down at you at eye level and hold your hands. Your hands are so, so cold as they rest in theirs. Their eyes carry the promise that this mind-numbing cycle will end, and they’ll end it for you with their own hands. The hands holding onto your cold ones so, so tightly. They promise you won’t have to feel so frigid and stiff, but your numb hands can't find warm solace in theirs. Puffs of their condensation tickle your face as they slur endless promises. You hear their teeth clatter, shoulders shivering as well. You two aren’t the same kind of cold, though. You wear a thin top and pants in the frigid weather, the chill is familiar. They wear a puffy winter coat, shivering with you in front of their insulated home. You're not the same.

They haven’t invited you inside yet. Looking at the snake-like scales on their face, you don’t think they ever will.

Infinite amounts of snow and ice have started piling around you. You’ve been waiting so long in front of their house. How long have you been waiting for them to save you? You are not saving yourself, not in this position. Ice and frost hang from your delicate eyelashes. What were you waiting for again? It had been so long, it’s hard to remember until they come out of their house. That’s when you remember- that’s when you feel your heart jump into your throat.

You were waiting for them to save you as they promised you however long ago.

And they hand you a blanket.

The thinnest one they could find, they fail to wait for your quivering hands to reach out and take it, dropping it in front of you like a dog as they walk back into the comfort of their home. The tauntingly warm air brushing past your body feels like a vex, but you don’t have the energy to speak as they wipe their boots off on their welcome mat. Your eyes gaze down at the thin, green blanket left in front of you with dull eyes. Warm light emitting from inside the house disappears when the door shuts. Consciousness goes along with it. With that feeling of falling backward, you feel your back hit the hard ground. You’re so tired.

Tired of waiting for them to keep their promise.

Tired of the uncomfortable shivering from the below-zero temperatures you’ve grown accustomed to.

Tired of people not like you telling you what you need.

Tired of waiting for someone else to save you, when you know they never will.

And with your conscious enlightened, so does the green blanket. Just a candle left ablaze on your former savior's porch sets fire to the blanket they tossed to you, which sets fire to their home. Words of warning never reach them when they’re never spoken. The only mercy you give them is the crackle of the flames, the same way they left you to die. But you two aren’t the same.

They made a promise.

And with that broken promise comes a broken, burned-down home. The ice and snow melt away as the fire jumps from the ruined house to the field of weeds and woods. The feeling is foreign to you at this point, but...

You’re warm.

You’re warm as the fire melts away the cold, as you till the field caked in ashes to plant your poppies.

The surrounding area burns away, it never donned on you that you had been on a hill before; all the blizzards tended to obscure 90% of your world, but as the snow melts, you see people.

Not people that were like the one who lived in the house, no, these people were like you. Donning clothes unfit for the eternal winter they had been caught in before you set it all ablaze, you see fires in the distance, a trail of embers going everywhere, sourced from the one you started. You never realized how many insulated homes there were, nor the number of people like you who longed to reside in one.

The masses look at you, the slowly burning blanket in your hand feels like it weighs a million pounds, but they cheer. They cheer, whistle, laugh, and cry. White snow is replaced with black as it swirls everywhere, not losing its rhythm anytime soon with all the clapping and screaming pushing the ash about in the air.

Suddenly, that blanket isn't so heavy anymore. These people were just like you, at that moment, you knew you wanted to help them.

Images of you in the crowd reflect on you like a thousand mirrors. In an act of passion, you raise that blanket as it burns in your hand, and the crowd erupts in cheers knowing things won't be the same anymore, because they had someone like you. Someone that they knew would be the voice and mind that gave them what they needed, and you knew this, too. As that blanket turns into nothing but ashes in the crowd, you know who you’re to be now.

You’re to be their new superior. Like the last one, but better. You won’t be the one hiding in homes of luxury while people wail and cry on your doorstep, begging you to keep the promise you’ll never go through with. You’ll make sure of that, too. You'll be everything you needed.

But as you slowly get off of that high, the ashes don't blur your vision as much anymore, and those thousands of mirrors across the masses seem clear.

Soot smudges over the glass, but you can tell that those mirrors aren't as similar to you as you thought.

They haven't changed, though. You have.

Because, like the difference between you and your former superior, there is a difference between you and the crowd- sure, you may come from the same origins. Yes, the things you fought for were for you as much as it was for them, but now look at you.

Look at yourself in the thousands of mirrors, then look at your hands. At your reflection in the puddles from the ice and snow, look, and you will see a giver that longed to be a receiver.

There's a dull ache in your chest. The people around you, your past. The charred body of your former superior? Your future. In this role, as much as you may use your power to change it like clay, there will always be a disconnect between you and the people you're helping, no matter how similar you are. No matter how much you do for the people because you know that's what you needed when you were like them, you'll never get what you needed.

You gave yourself what you needed in a tangible sense, but of course, with that comes a fatal loss.

A broken promise is still a broken promise- you were let down. Promises that you would be saved, and rising from the ashes, the circumstances told you that you have to save yourself.

And that's the problem with being the thing you needed most. It'll never change the fact that nobody came for you.

Maybe you shouldn't have saved yourself after all.

————

got the inspo from the tags on this post !!

[aeipathcy]

Covered in head to toe with snow, Alex stood outside her doorway with a bouqet of paper flowers, accompanied with a box that was full of all and every plushie he made by hand, except the black cat. "Happy Valentines Day!" He exclaimed, muffled by his scarf. Like a boy, he extended the gifts to her. "I couldn't decide. Please keep all of them." Had it not been for the scarf, Reanne would be subjected to the flustered expression he had on his face.

UNPROMPTED ┊always accepting.

The last thing she expected this holiday was to be greeted with the sight of her crush at the door. Honestly, she had only gone out to maybe catch that high end dinner deal she saw on a mall flyer, but seeing a familiar dark haired boy standing at her door threw that plan out the window. Considerably baffled by the exclamation—Reanne hadn't expected him to show up at all—the auburn haired girl looked at him speechless. Then a box of crochet dolls and a bouquet of paper flowers was thrust before her.

She couldn't help but peer into the box filled with the cutest renditions of critters in it—a little green frog, a dark blue whale, a yellow octopus, a white rabbit, and lastly a light blue penguin all with those beady black eyes that maximized the cute factor.

Woah, such... cute... crochet dolls!! And the flowers too?

❝ These are... for me? ❞ she murmured in disbelief as she took the flowers carefully from the boy's reddened and cold fingers, a blush blossoming on her cheeks. What was with the sudden spotlight she felt she was under? Gingerly reaching her free hand out towards the adorable light blue penguin doll that was calling her name, Reanne gently wrapped her hand around the delicate craftsmanship, stroking its head with her finger.

Was it just her or was she seriously surrounded by such talented and skilled artist friends now? This little penguin was so cute she just had to cuddle it tonight!! Ahhh! It was such a perfect little thing! She'd keep it on her bed and squeeze it and throw it in the air and— Gosh, she was absolutely smitten with this little guy! And the best part was that the guy she liked was the one who made it! How could it be any better than that?!

Her gaze momentarily returned to Alex, cutting her internal gushing short. Should she reaffirm how she felt about him? Definitely! Clearing her throat, Reanne shyly lowered her gaze to the dolls, fixing her eyes on the little penguin. She began to open her mouth but then her chance slipped away when the boy insisted she take all of them. Huh, wait. S-She couldn't take all of them! That would be— wasn't she only supposed to take one of them? Taking all of them would be rude wouldn't it, even if they were all super adorable?

Pulling her arm back she lifted her gaze to the boy in front of her, the one currently hiding away in his scarf, ❝ Hey! I can't—! ❞ Hold on, Reanne. Tell him your feelings without any doubts this time. Then you can address the other stuff.

❝ Um, I as much as I hate the idea of saying it today of all days... ❞ she slowly trailed off, weighing whether or not it was worth officially taking their relationship to the next level. She could always pretend they got together on a different day if she really hated it that much—not that she was ever good with remembering anniversaries anyway; yeah, that was reassuring—just forget the date and only remember the memory. Looking into Alex's eyes, she grew more serious, her free hand twirling locks of her hair around its fingers, ❝ I want to officially be your girlfriend if you'll let me. ❞

As her gaze lifted, she finally was able to face Alex properly, and it was then she noticed all the snow piling in his hair too. Eyes widening as she realized the amount of snow he was covered with, Reanne scrambled to somehow help him warm up, brushing the snow off his jacket the best she could with her bare hands.

Alarmed at the possibility of him giving himself a cold, the girl abruptly ushered him inside her apartment by tugging at his arms with her hands, ❝ Ah! Come inside before you freeze! �� she exclaimed hurriedly, only just realizing how long he was likely waiting out there for her to open the door if not preparing himself for this conversation. She couldn't let him freeze out here! ❝ we can keep talking inside! ❞

[pandawithawand]

Dear lord help me, I have no self control.

Ficlet under the cut:

“Urrggghhhh! Why does it have to smell so good?!” Grian rolled around in his seat and dragged his hands over his face, “Why is Scar even making cookies if we can’t eat them now?”

With a sigh, Mumbo turned the page in his book and responded with the same words he’s been repeating for the better part of ten minutes, “Because they’re for the dinner party tonight and if we eat them all now then we’ll be showing up with no food,”

“Well, yeah, but like, one can’t hurt! C’mon, you want one too right?” Grian flopped into the taller’s lap and started picking at the button of his jacket. His voice shifted and tone dropped to a more mischievous whisper, “He’s made loads, I’m sure he won’t notice if a couple go missing...”

With a raised eyebrow, Mumbo shut his book and stared down at the avian sprawled out in front of him, “Are you seriously suggesting we steal the cookies that Scar made and gave specific instructions to not touch?”

Grian shrugged, painting his face with a caricature of innocence, “Maybe?”

Mumbo stared down at him for a few seconds before putting his book on the arm of the sofa and throwing his hands into the air in a mock surrender, “Well, you’ve forced my hand I suppose. I’ll distract him, you grab the goods,”

~*~

The most recent batch of cookies had been freshly removed from the oven with a flourish, when Scar noticed one of his lovely boyfriends approaching. Just the sight of the moustached man was enough to bring a smile to his sun-kissed face, “Why hello there Mumbo! What brings you into my kitchen, hmm?”

“Nothing much dear; just had to give you something quickly,”

Scar set the baking tray on the counter, “And what do you need to-” Surprised, a squeak escaped his mouth as Mumbo grabbed his cheeks and turned his head, pressing their lips together in a kiss. As the shock melted away, Scar leaned into the kiss, shutting his eyes and placing his scarred hands on top of Mumbo’s gloved ones. He tasted like bitter copper and sweet raspberries and it was addicting. Scar didn’t want to stop tasting copper and raspberries. Dear god, Scar felt he could taste copper and raspberries for the rest of his life; he didn’t even like raspberries that much. A little whimper left his throat as Mumbo pulled away and pressed their foreheads together, chuckling slightly,

“Nooo,” The elf mumbled, “Why’d you stop?”

“Well, I did say it was going to be quick. I don’t want to distract you from your baking,”

“I don’t think I’ll really mind if you decide to distract me like that Mr Mumbolio,” He moved in for another kiss and Mumbo indulged him. Oh yeah, he could do this all day. The taller pulled away much too soon for Scars liking,

“Alright, alright, I see your point, but I am going to go now. You have cookies to bake and I have a Grian to distract,” Sliding his hands out from under the others, Mumbo stepped away and smiled, “See you later my love,”

“Bye...” Scar stared dreamily after him as he left and gave a soppy sigh, “Gosh, now how did I end up with those two? So sweet of him to- Hey! There are two cookies missing here!” His indignant cry was drowned out by the sounds of mischievous giggles as the cookie thieves ran off into the house.

pranks and distractions

[captain-noir]

romance peaked in the buffyverse when wesley tearfully chopped up lilah’s corpse as she haunted him in order to spare her a lifetime of vampirism. nothing else came close!

[yoimix]

「 fireball whiskey 」

DILUC has made it very clear he has no interest in bar talk. he cares for it as much as a cryo slime would care for water; which is nothing at all, they just make for a very troublesome mix.

however, it’s not one of kaeya’s detestable jokes anymore how his ears perk up at the mention of your name. even in a tavern inhabited by noisy idiots, his entire focus is occupied by your presence. could those drunkards not surround you? diluc clenches the glass he was polishing tighter, nearly enough to break it. they are your teammates, though a pestilent crowd, and you show no signs of discomfort. in fact, diluc seems to be the only one feeling discomfort.

“..luc! diluc!” 

he snaps himself out of his thoughts.

“good heavens, you’re enchanted. even my lyre has not had this effect on you,” the bard comments, face flushed from alcohol.

“and that poor glass is suffering the worst of it,” kaeya teases, a smile smug enough to drive diluc up a wall. 

“(name) is art of a different kind, eh?” venti giggles, lazily strumming the strings of the lyre harp now resting on the counter.

diluc feels flames lick at his cheeks, before clearing his throat.

“your tab, bard, is now at a total of four hundred and fifty thousand mora. i do hope you’ll pay up.”

“u-uh.. oh boy, is that a man trying to make his move on (name)? better play the knight in shining armor now!”

“don’t try to—”

“he’s not wrong,” kaeya interrupts, gaze trained on you shaking your head at a man who’s grasping your hand far too tight for diluc’s liking. “now’s your chance to finally stop staring longingly at miss (name) and—”

“don’t... say a word, kaeya.”

diluc sighs. it’s time to go home.

before he knows it, his legs have carried him over to where you are, hoisting you up with ease while you babble on and on about something he can’t quite hear. this is precisely why he dislikes crowds. he can’t even hear the sound of your sweet voice over the buffoons that inhabit this tavern.

the chill of mondstadt air hits him in full blast, and he holds you closer as your voice finally reaches his ears.

“...and he was like, whoa! i’m not the dandelion knight, i’m the windwheel bard! hahaha, get it? wait, no. i think i said it wrong...”

“(name)? are you alright?”

you blink, staggering to stand straight up. 

“of course, my dear. why wouldn’t you think i am?”

diluc tries to ignore the term of endearment you just threw at him and expected him to catch. you’re friends, for heaven’s sake. friends don’t talk to each other like this, do they?

“you chugged down four shots of fireball whiskey and a sunsettia tequila mix.”

“i did not.”

“i literally saw you do it.”

“ah, busted.”

diluc shakes his head. “do you have to do this? that thing’s terrible for your body.”

“i’ll stop when you promise me one thing right now! no questions, just promise me first.”

“...and what is it that i have to promise?”

you press a finger to your soft lips, a sheepish smile causing boundless flutters in his stomach. “now, i told you. that’s a secret, mr diluc.”

archons, you’re just so unfair. diluc can’t help the flow of fire to his cheeks, like he’s suddenly a teenager discovering puppy love, and he covers the lower half of his face with his palm. you’re bound to notice, right? when he’s putting on an entire fireworks show whether he likes it or not. the little sparks jump from finger to finger, and flames licking at his ears. it’s such an unfamiliar feeling. he usually has his vision under control.

the fire makes you jump, but thankfully not too far from him where can’t feel the calming warmth of your presence.

...thankfully? what has gotten into him?

“oh dear, diluc, are you okay?” you look at him with concerned eyes. once again, diluc has to struggle to keep his flames from going haywire. you stagger towards him, your hands finding his face with much ease as they cup his cheeks.

you giggle. “gosh, you’re so warm. i wish i could spend every winter night with you.”

“i’m... sorry?”

you step even closer, a guttural sound of surprise leaving his throat when you wrap your arms around his waist. he can smell your strawberry lip balm at this proximity.

“promise?”

“...i promise.” diluc barely has any willpower left in him. “now, may i know what it is?”

“kiss me!”

diluc nearly starts coughing, right on your face. barbatos help him because the wind has entirely left his lungs.

“ex-excuse me?” he must have heard you wrong.

“kiss. me.” you pout, looking up at him. “right now!”

“you’re quite demanding.” he clears his throat. “and drunk. i can’t possibly—”

diluc fears fire may stream from his ears the moment you grab his collar and press your lips to his in a chaste kiss. it’s far more than he can take and he pushes you away by the shoulder, an erratic gasp leaving his lips.

“i know you like me!” you huff, “and I’ve been trying so hard to tell you but archons, you’re dense.”

diluc opens and closes his mouth. “but i- mm- i- uh... oh.”

he wants to kiss you so terribly, his hands tremble in fear of what other strange desires you may unleash. this can’t be right. everything feels foreign, his senses gone awry and his mind the last defender of his heart.

“so...” you quieten. “did i perhaps get it wrong? i- i’m so sor—“

diluc cups your face gently but the force with which he connects your lips to his is anything but gentle. he does ease into his actions a millisecond after and the two of you grow closer to each other till the heat latches onto you too.

you pull away with a smile as soft as the moon above, your thumb idly brushing over his cheekbone. diluc nearly leans into your lips again but whatever self control he has left keeps him in line. 

“...hush! they’re gonna hear us!”

diluc’s attention snaps to bushes near the door of angel’s share, a harsh glare soon following. a certain bard, cavalry captain and... is that klee and amber? diluc does not like crowds.

but with you, and all that you bring, resting so peacefully against his chest, who is he to take notice?

[darklinsblog]

His Protégé | Sandman Imagine

Summary: Desire kidnaps Jessamy’s daughter and Dream will do anything to get her back and not repeat the same mistakes.

Pairing: Morpheus x Daughter! Reader

Part I

Author’s note: Let’s appreciate the beauty of this gif like oh gosh. Anyway angst ahead!!

“Y/N?!” Dream felt like he was losing his mind, no one had seen or heard from you in hours, something was definitely wrong, you wouldn’t leave, you loved the Dreaming and you loved Morpheus’ as he was the one who took you in, who would use his sand whenever you couldn’t sleep.

He was going crazy sending ravens all around the world just to find you.

Lucienne had appeared with an red envelope and a worried expression, it didn’t take long for him to realize who had send this the minute he saw it.

Looking for your foster daughter?

You know where to find me…

He was fuming, out of all of the trickery things Desire had attempted to do to provoke him, this was stepping on a fine line.

Lucienne had advised him to wait, to have a plan because this could very well be a trap but Morpheus’ didn’t listen. Because he wouldn’t let your mother’s fate to fall on you as well, he had taken care of you for so many years that there wasn’t a single second he could lose.

You were still human and at the hands of someone like Desire, he didn’t want his mind to go there.

When reaching Desire’s realm he was greeted by an awful sight, an image he could only describe as his worst nightmare coming to life.

You were suspended in the air by a set of chains, one of each limb, a gag on your mouth you were still unharmed but still terrified.

When you looked at Dream you softly shook your head and muffled sounds came from you, trying to warn him of the danger.

“DESIRE!” Morpheus’ roared his eyes glowing with ire, the other Endless was simply fascinated by their brother’s irritation. “Let her go” he hissed through his teeth, Desire made puppy eyes, trying to play innocent.

“As you wish, brother” in a simple flick of their wrist the chains were gone, making you fall hard on the ground.

Morpheus’ felt as if his own heart had broken into a million pieces when he saw you hit the ground, whining and groaning in pain. Dream didn’t waste a second and ran to you, holding your face softly, you were trembling beneath his touch as he checked your body for any signs of bruising or injury.

“Are you alright?” He asked you as he saw you were having difficulty breathing.

“You… shouldn’t have… come” you spoke out of breath looking over at Desire.

“I do have to give it to you Dream, she’s grown to be quite a lady, I mean she’s only… what eighteen at most? And she’s already exquisite”

The king’s jaw clenched, he hated that Desire was speaking of you with a sexual connotation, it made his blood boil to even think Desire had touched you without your consent.

Without being able to register it, he had already grabbed Desire by the hair roughly, practically tackling them to the ground, Desire’s head was smashed to the ground so harshly even the floor beneath their head cracked; one of Morpheus’ hands was enclosed tightly around their throat restricting the air flow.

But instead of showing fear Desire smirked widely and laughed with difficulty, even as their head was bleeding, showing the trickster to be nothing but amused and even proud.

“Go ahead… show your daughter what kind of monster her daddy can be”

Dream’s eyes widened, looking over at you hiding on a corner with watery eyes looking at him as if you were looking at a complete stranger, you were frightened beyond words.

This had been Desire’s plan all along, they didn’t intend to hurt you, their true intent was to destroy the image you had of Dream, to destroy your trust in him.

Because Desire knew how much weight you had on her older brother, how much your concept of him mattered, because to Dream as long as you believed in him the rest didn’t matter.

But if you didn’t believe in him anymore, there would be nothing left, he would be vulnerable and could easily be overthrown.

He let go of Desire, getting inches away from his face, practically breathing on them, now Desire’s playful smile had disappeared.

“Consider this your last warning. Come near my daughter again and I will forget you are family” he whispered before standing up and coming to you, at first you were reluctant of taking his hand, but you could see how his eyes softened at the sight of you.

This was the Dream you had grown up with, you hugged him again being invaded by that sense of safety and comfort. The king smiled weakly and kissed your temple, as he soaked your warmth in his, relieved to see you safe and sound.

When you reached the Dreaming, Morpheus himself took care of the bruises, he was doing it so gently you were awfully reminded of the dark image of him, choking on their sibling.

“Dream?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Were you going to kill Desire?” You asked, Morpheus tensed and stop to look at you, it was incredible to him how it was so easy to forget you were no longer a seven year old he needed to protect from ugly truths. No, now you were a young lady capable of analyzing your environment.

He couldn’t use his sand to make this all go away anymore, he had to talk to you with the truth.

“The thought crossed my mind. But no, I wasn’t going to”

Your sighed in relief of his answer, you knew he wasn’t a murderer but hearing him say it now took an extra weight off your shoulders.

“I didn’t want you to come for me because what if you got hurt, or trapped again, trying to save me?” Now there were tears in your eyes “You’re my only family” Morpheus’ wasn’t affectionate physically, he struggled with that. But hearing your voice crack made him embrace you fully.

He left you cry on his shoulder as he caressed your hair, he understood your fear because he felt it too, every single minute of every day.

You were the only family the other had, the closest thing to anything remotely conventional, you were his little girl and will always be.

The man would go through Hell and back for you, he would be capable of the wildest things out of love for you.

“Listen to me Y/N” he whispered softly as he cupped your face, resting his forehead on yours.

“I made a mistake with your mother years ago, I couldn’t save her, and I’ll be dammed if you came to any harm. When I took you in I promised in your mother’s memory that I will always be there to protect you and I plan on keeping that promise”

You nodded sniffling, knowing Dream never fault his promises.

“You should talk to Death” you suggested, he looked at you reluctantly “I know you wanted me to grow up like any other human but look around. I live the land of Dreams and my father is Dream of the Endless” the king couldn’t help but chuckle as you were right, he wanted you to have a normal life but normal could only go so far.

“Anything for you, my daughter” he said grabbing your chin with two of his fingers, making you smile.

“I’m not a kid anymore” you teased.

“I know but in some ways you will always be a little girl to me” he explained smiling at you.

Especially now that he was truly considering to make you immortal, it didn’t matter how much time passed you by, he would always see you as the girl you were and yet being grown up now, you reminded him more and more of Jessamy.

Each passing day he thought of your mother and how proud she would be if he saw the beautiful lady you became with time.

Truthfully, he just hoped he was doing right by you, that he was making Jessamy proud, wherever she was now.

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