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joonie-beanie · 7 months ago

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A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

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

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

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

…

Huh?

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

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

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

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

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

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

Wriothesley sighs.

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

You grin, holding your head high.

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

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

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

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

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

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

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

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

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

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

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

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

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

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

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

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

Both men look your way. You smile.

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

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

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

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

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

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

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

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

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

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

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

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

And really, who would pass up that offer?

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

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

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

And he seems to be…for the most part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

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

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

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

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

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

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

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

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

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you not to return here.”

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

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

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

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

“I sent you away for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

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

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

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

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

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

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

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

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

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

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

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

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

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

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

“This is wrong of me…”

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

A quiet laugh leaves you.

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

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

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

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

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

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

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pries your legs apart.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first taste of his meal.

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

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

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

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

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

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

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

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

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

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours.

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

Then, his tongue starts to move.

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

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

He can't stop.

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

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

You can't control yourself.

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

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

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

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

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

Finally, you're bare beneath him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!”

He slips a second finger inside of you.

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

It's all so much.

“Neuvillette—”

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

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

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

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

Instantly, you lose it.

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

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.”

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

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

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

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you.

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

You’re ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…oh.

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

Speaking of—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

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

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

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

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

You’ve never felt so full.

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

…then, he begins to move his hips.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah…you’re going insane.

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

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

“Ahh…”

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

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

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

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

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

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

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

He’s getting close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so well,” he tells you.

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

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

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

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

“However…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

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

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The office sits in silence for a moment.

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

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

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

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

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

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

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

Wriothesley hums.

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

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

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

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

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

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

“I shall hope for the same.”

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

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majinbangus · 24 days ago

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i m s o s o r r y, b u t i c a n n o t s t o p. remember when ghost and soap interrogate milena and soap is all 'not my style. he might' & 'last call, or he takes over'? yeah, that's him holding ghost's leash before he sics him on someone. and now he's teaching you how to do it too :) -> more here

Obviously, he's not your typical 'dog', but Ghost fulfills the role easy enough. So far, he's shown all the qualities Soap wanted your guard dog to have. Calm. Alert. Protective. You suppose you can't complain. Even when he's not doing his guard dog duties, he still sticks close to your side like one, ready at a moments notice. Ghost takes his role as your protector very seriously.

Maybe a little too seriously.

You don't realize until someone looks at you funny that that's enough to get Ghost's hackles rising. But since that incident, Soap has made sure to teach you the commands, considering Ghost was yours to handle. There's certainly an adjustment period, and it takes some getting used to, but you soon learn how to utilize those commands.

You're out on a walk and tell him to heel? He heels.

The next time someone looks at you funny and you tell him to leave it? He leaves it.

If a person is trying to hurt you and you tell him to attack? He attacks.

Simple enough. Be clear and firm, and Ghost will listen.

"But don't forget the most important thing, sweetheart."

You tilt your head at Soap like a confused puppy. "What's that?"

He winks at you as if he knows something you don't. "Always remember to give your dog a reward and lots of love for his hard work."

It's not until later, do you fully realize what he meant until Ghost is gripping your jaw tightly and licking into your mouth, taking his well-earned treat.

How could you forget that dogs love to kiss?

#soap x reader #john soap mactavish x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #141 sweet treat <3 #f!reader

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is-this-yuri · 3 months ago

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My plan to escape homelessness. I need your help to get started before winter!

hello friends! i'm a homeless queer guy living in a tiny car. it's been like this for most of my adult life, and i'm trying to make a change! I want to convert a van into my new home! my plan involves these stages:

Stage 1: acquire a van.

while still living off donations in my car, i'm fundraising. as soon as i can afford one, i'll purchase a van. the market shows most used vans that would be suitable are around $3.5-4.5k give or take. we're already about halfway there!

I'm really hoping this stage can be complete before november, as my car is not suited to survive another winter and it could be devastating to attempt it.

Stage 2: survive winter

since winter is approaching, i'll need to quickly put insulated walls in the van and make sure i can live in it. at this point, it'll already be an upgrade to my car, but i won't be able to do much building in cold weather, so it'll just be the bare minimum i need to survive the winter.

during this time, i'll be taking measurements, drawing plans, researching appliances, and generally preparing for the build process. i'll continue fundraising to make sure i can afford all the materials and tools i'll need. i may also take care of any maintenence the van might need. i'll also clean and sell my car so i have some cash from that as well.

Stage 3: build my home!

when it gets warm enough, i'll start doing the actual build. i'll document this on video as much as i can, and post the process on my youtube channel for not only the people who helped me, but for anyone who's curious. i'll start with solar panels and an electricity system, i'll add countertops and kitchen appliances, a shower and sink with plumbing and warm water, a toilet, a real bed, lights, climate control. it'll be essentially a house on wheels, and just the right size for me!

Stage 4: whatever comes next

once i have my new home, i'll need an income. i may take a regular job to support myself at first, and that will actually be possible when i have a shower. but, i've been considering making content pretty much my whole life, and now i think i have a great chance to actually pursue that. i'll use some of the money from selling my car in stage 2 to get some basic equipment (laptop, mic, camera). i'll be posting my van build at first, and after that i'll probably start by telling stories about my time being homeless, but i'm also interested in streaming and video essays. thanks to all the generous support i've been getting from my followers and other people on the internet, i feel my opportunities are wide open!

Please consider donating to my fundraiser to help me change my life!

GFM

2115/10k

#homeless #homelessness #donation request #fundraiser #mutual aid #gofundme #van life #housing

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euthymiya · 1 month ago

Text

“What’s got you so grumpy?”

Sukuna dodges your finger. It fails to meet its destination of his cheek as he tilts his head to the side, earning a frown from you before you huff and try again.

He looks up from his phone with an irritated glance when your fingertip digs into his face.

“What are you talking about?” He grunts.

He knows exactly what you’re talking about. Normal Sukuna is irritable enough—grumpy Sukuna is about as bad tempered as a hornet who’s had its nest kicked. (Which is to say: he’s pretty fucking unfriendly at the moment.)

“You’re sulking,” you point out—and that statement earns a sharp glare from him as you seat yourself on his lap. (Still, he makes room easily for you, leaning back on the couch and putting his phone down to the side so his hands can rest on your hips. Grumpy Sukuna is never grumpy enough to push your body away—if anything, it’s the one way to get him less agitated).

“I’m not fucking sulking,” he says. It’s almost petulant, but you have enough grace to spare his dignity and not point it out. “I don’t sulk.”

“Are you sure?” You raise a disbelieving brow—he clicks his teeth at the way you choose to question him, but it softens considerably when your lips peck his jaw delicately. “You look pretty sulky to me.”

“Get your eyes checked.”

“Can’t. Then I might see you for all your ugliness. We wouldn’t want to throw years down the drain once I come to my senses do we?”

It’s his turn to raise a brow, sarcastically snorting as you give him a cheeky wink. “If you wanna try ‘n be a smart ass, at least be realistic about it. Saw you checking me out just this morning through the mirror.”

“Maybe you need your eyes checked,” you huff, “I was not checking you out.”

“Pretty sure you were,” he smirks, lips pulling into a haughty grin. Getting under your skin with his smugness is about the only way to cheer him up, it seems, because he looks rather pleased when he adds, “it’s okay. Don’t blame ya for bein’ possessed by my impressive physique.”

“Too bad your personality isn’t as dazzling,” you quip back easily.

It’s meant to be lighthearted, of course—but it seems to be the wrong thing to say. Quite wrong, in fact, because as soon as the words escape you, he tenses before locking his jaw.

There’s a flash of something in his eyes. Something you don’t think you’ve ever seen in Sukuna’s face—doubt. It’s a little odd, in all realness. Sukuna is not a doubtful person. He’s confident, and he’s confident enough that it’s almost to a fault. He’s cocky and smug and sometimes a little too self-assured for it to be considered good for his health.

It’s a bit unsettling to see his face almost fall at something you say, especially when you just say it for the sake of light banter.

“Yeah?” He chuckles dryly. It sounds dangerously self-deprecating—enough that it makes you frown. “Good thing I have my abs to keep you glued to my side then, huh?”

“Well, it’s not just your abs,” you hum, one hand smoothing over his shirt to feel the ridges of his muscles through the shirt. “Your boobs are pretty great, too.”

To prove your point, you give his left pectoral a gentle squeeze. He scowls before shoving your hand away as blush creeps along the back of his neck.

“You fucking freak,” he mutters.

Something is bothering him. You know you can’t directly ask it out of him, otherwise he’ll deny it left and right, but something is bothering him. Sukuna is not good with words or emotions. In fact, he’s pretty awful at anything that has to do with anyone’s feelings. (He’s better about yours more than other’s, but he’s pretty far from good.)

You don’t mind. There’s something oddly charming about witnessing the way he navigates softening up for you—it’s like watching a baby take their first steps. Wobbly. Slow. Unsure. Pretty badly executed, but endearingly rewarding all at the same.

Except, this time, it’s not your emotions he’s navigating. For some reason, yours are easy than his own. Navigating yours means he doesn’t have to try. He knows you better than he knows himself. Knows when your feelings are hurt by the twitch of your brows alone. Knows you’re sad by the dimness in your eyes. Knows you’re pretending joy when your laugh is quieter than usual. Knows you’re faking it when your smile is a much more tight lipped and a less bright version.

But his own feelings are complicated. A lot more than he cares to try and understand them for. In true Sukuna fashion, he always aims to ignore his problems until they seemingly disappear.

But you’re too difficult to let that slide. He brushes things under the rug, and you pull the rug from under his feet and make him fall face first into his problems.

“Hey,” you nudge him, cupping his face with your hand gently, “what’s gotten into you? It’s weird when you’re not pissing me off a couple of times every hour.”

“And that’s supposed to be a good thing?” He challenges, like your words seem to tick him off more, “what are you sittin’ here for if I’m always pissing you off?”

Oh, you think. So that’s what it is.

You smile, humming before you gently tilt his face up. Something vulnerable is attached to that frown of his. Like he’s waiting for your answer because he needs something to hold onto. Some metaphorical lifeline where your feelings are attached to his own, just to keep you chained together. Where you’re always somewhere that he also is. Where he doesn’t have to care about his emotions because what you feel is what he feels, too, and as long as you’re okay, so is he.

But you care. You seem to care a pretty great deal because you lean in and brush your nose against his as you kiss his lips softly.

“Who cares if you piss me off?” You snort, “I piss you off better. I’m pretty good at it.”

“You are,” he agrees instantly.

You give him a fleeting huff against his mouth as you mumble, “you don’t have to agree so fast.”

It pulls a small laugh from him, making his arms snake around your waist and tug your body closer. Chest to chest, heartbeat thumping in two, synchronized rhythms.

“What happens when I’m all old and expiring and my abs are gone?” He raises a brow. You hum, stroking a thumb along his cheek as you smile and admire him.

“We’ll still be pissing each other off, I bet.”

“That’s supposed to be good?” He repeats, this time much more unsure. Anyone else could hardly catch the air of hesitance in his words, but you catch it instantly.

“Why not?” You shrug, “it always worked for us, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “that’s until it doesn’t.” He spits the words out, not meeting your eyes. It’s like they taste acrid is mouth and he can’t bring himself swallow them down.

You don’t say anything. Instead, you lean in and just press a line of kisses from his chin to the corner of his lips, purposely dodging his mouth and littering small, delicate pecks along his cheek. And then his forehead. And then the bridge of his nose.

Never his lips, though. And he gets increasingly frustrated by it.

“What are you waiting for?” He grumbles, eyeing you with a look that screams: quit fucking around.

You fight back an amused smile. “Does it piss you off?”

“Course it does. Kiss me properly or back off my face—”

“Cause you love me right?” You ask cheekily. He pauses, thinking on it for a moment before slumping wearily.

“And if I do?”

“You piss me off too. Because I love you too,” you whisper, forehead against his as your hands cradle his cheeks. Because you do.

When he texts late, and makes your blood boil, it’s only because you love him. When he’s brutally honest and doesn’t say what you want to hear, you’re only mad because you care what he thinks so much. When he’s stubborn and refuses to meet you halfway, you’re only angry because there’s no one else you’d rather cross the bridge with than him.

He pisses you off. You care enough to be pissed because it’s him. And when you piss him off too, he cares enough to deal with it because it’s you.

It’s a funny, twisted little way to love and be loved, but it works. For some odd reason, it does. It’s a seamless, smooth, crackless road.

You don’t ever fix something that’s not broken.

“That doesn’t make sense,” he sighs, resigning himself to your weird, roundabout explanation. You laugh, pinching his cheek as you grin brightly.

“That’s because you’re a bit dim.”

“Yeah,” he rolls his eyes, “okay. Anything else?”

“Yeah, actually. I love you.”

He pauses. Swallows for a moment before his arms tighten their grip on your hips just a smidge before burying his face into your neck and mumbling, “me too. Love you so much, it pisses me off.”

“I like to get under your skin like that,” you stroke his hair, beaming as you add, “guess you’ll just have to deal with it.”

His lips stretch into a small grin before a low, rumbling chuckle breathes itself against your skin. “Guess so.”

————————

a/n: insecure modern! au sukuna who doesn’t admit it and refuses to acknowledge that he’s aware he’s difficult to love and can’t understand why you love him but he also doesn’t want to question it for fear of scaring you away is very near and dear to me and i’ll be talking about it from my grave still. you’ll just hear my ghostly voice spooking you through the night talking about how he’s a softie deep down under all the layers. like an ogre okay? ogres have LAYERS.

#writing tag #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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erosiism · 3 months ago

Text

𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 | yandere! prince x male! reader | NSFW

pairing: horny! prince x oblivious! male reader

CONTAINS:

blowjob

overstimulation

bathtub sex

dick riding (literally)

nipple play

fingering

sorry i think im turning into a nsfw tumblr page with a sprinkle of gore, fluff and angst lol might contain small tiny discrepancies as i edited it from third person to second person. | taken from my fic on wattpad called possession thank you for 1k followers on tumblr! please comment, reblog, and like if you enjoyed this

The situation you had gotten yourself in was rather dire.

For the longest period of time, you had been unaware of your best friend’s feelings — the crown prince — and just how strong his affections were towards you.

And that included not knowing how horny Isidor — your best friend — was.

And now that both of your feelings were out in the open, that meant that the air was practically suffocating with sexual tension.

You sat across him on the bed, jumbling up your words as you tried to tackle this nefarious topic.

"I—" You faltered. "What I mean to say is, I know you're sexually aroused. You've made that clear..." you trailed off, voice small. "And I know you're being very patient with me."

"Yes, Y/n." Isidor said slowly, "...what are you trying to say?"

Why is he making me say it? you thought with frustration, just—!

You reeled the prince in for a kiss, cupping the prince’s cheek and pouring all the things you couldn't figure out how to say at that moment in that kiss. Then when both your lips were both red and swollen (they already were, from all the initial kisses), you looked at Isidor with a meaningful glance.

Realization flashed through Isidor's eyes. It was followed by a smoldering glint that signaled his lust.

Encouraged by his reaction — you struggled on, "you don't have to wait. You don't have to be patient."

Isidor was painfully hard by then, his cock throbbing and pulsing as blood rushed up to its surface.

"Y/n," Isidor murmured in a strangled voice, "say it. You know, I am curious about how sound-proofed our dorm truly is. Let's test it out, shall we?"

"I—"

You had barely gotten the words out before Isidor was crowding you against the walls, tongue licking a stripe up your neck from your open collar. Oh, you tasted godly — Isidor would carve his hips against your own and engrave his initials to your brain — he would make you say his name in a feverish heat.

Isidor's hands started to slide under our shirt, staring at you with eager eyes. "Say what you want, Y/n — and I shall give."

"I want," you panted, "you to fuck me."

I want you to fuck me.

Following your bold declaration, Isidor's remaining sanity that he prided himself on had dissipated into nothingness. For an extremely long period of time, Isidor had thought he still had remarkable self control, considering that he, up until this point, had not made any significant advances towards you, the man he loved.

But you had now given him explicit permission — had almost begged for it, even.

Isidor angled himself into a tilt, dragging his lips along your sensitive own. You gasped — and Isidor took this as an opportunity to slide his tongue into the gap of your mouth, plunging right into the heart of your mouth.

And oh, he sure took his time to explore. You found yourself grasping for something to support yourself with, as every single time Isidor would move, your limbs would grow weak.

And soon, when the two of you broke apart, there was an obscene, sliver slick of saliva at the edge of your lips. Sensual, sensitive, and alluring.

"You're sensitive," Isidor whispered, "now this is going to be fun..."

And even that last kiss had careened into something else entirely — into a debauched, obscene mess. At that moment, there was no rhythm to the kiss — there was nothing controlled about your movements. Isidor's grip on your waist was bruising and lacked the tenderness that it usually had.

"You're hard," Isidor said, almost seeming proud — "aren't you, Y/n?" He reached down to your hard length and squeezed, causing you to release a soft moan, grinding yourself against Isidor.

"Ah—don't —" you swallowed, "Isidor."

Isidor wanted to ruin you. He wanted to mark the skin that seemed to call him in —to lick the skin that was peppered and powdered with pink. He wanted to stake his claim on your body, to show that you were truly his, and solely his. Only his.

Isidor didn't respond, instead grasping your pants and pulling it down in a deft motion, tossing it to the other side of the room where it lay forgotten. And now you could be seen hard, aching — with your boxers painfully restraining your boner. Isidor licked his lips, the other hand grabbing your shirt and also tossing it away carelessly. Yourbare skin looked like a feast to Isidor: it was unblemished, untouched, and provided as the perfect canvas for Isidor to litter his marks and kisses on.

"Perhaps we should do something about this," Isidor murmured, one finger reaching to jerk your cock, still clothed beneath your boxers, the other slowly peeling off the last layer of fabric like Isidor was uncovering a prize. "Right, Y/n?"

"Don't tell me you're planning on—" you swallowed back a moan, a hand flying to your mouth as you stifled the lewd sounds slipping from your mouth. "I-Isidor—"

How unfair. Isidor was completely clothed still, while you were already naked and bare for him to see. Isidor pressed his cheek to the head of your cock, his eyes gleaming. His hands had started to wrap around your girth, lips curling into a smirk. And here you were initially worrying about giving head — when as it turned out, Isidor was going to be the one giving it to you.

Precum was already leaking from the top of your cock, sluggishly dripping down your whole length. You started to writhe, your train of thought forgotten. Your whole body was riled up, all restless energy and pure jittery nerves. Your hands flew up to weave into dark strands of hair as Isidor started to move, bobbing his head to swallow your cock whole. You felt a sudden jolt of pleasure as all you could feel was the slickness, wetness and pure heat of Isidor's mouth enveloping your body, deep-throating him. A wanton moan left your mouth.

"Shhh," Isidor murmured, "I'll make you feel good, darling. You can make those noises when I truly fuck you later."

Isidor was awfully good at giving head, to the extent you started to suspect he had done it before. And it was not before long when your cock started to twitch as you felt your imminent release. Desperately, you tried to pry Isidor's lips from your length, but the prince stayed stubbornly, his eyes traveling towards to meet yours. Your thighs spread further apart, your ass angling upwards, cock jerking in Isidor's mouth, fervently begging for more.

Smug. Isidor looked smug, like he knew he was responsible for your first release.

You watched with mortification as Isidor's Adam apple bobbed, the white liquid sliding down his throat. But your mind was already driven from pleasure and your eyes were glazed, your vision indescribably heavy. You grew slack as low breaths escaped your lips, your chest rising up and down as you looked at Isidor, cheeks reddening.

Why was the fuck — sorry for the crude language — was the crown prince licking his lips?

"You came so fast," Isidor murmured, "perhaps I should have delayed it so you would have the energy to continue on. Perhaps I should have waited so that you would come with my cock inside you. But no matter — I can think of a lot better ways to make you come again..." Isidor pressed a firm kiss to the base of your neck, straightening his back to be on eye level with you. "Can you continue?"

It was stupid to think how a simple blowjob had rendered you utterly gone.

I'm not going to last, you thought, I really won't. Because from the looks of it, Isidor had plenty of ideas in mind.

"Not fair," your voice was garbled, "I've already come once and you haven't even taken your clothes off yet."

"Would you like to do the honor?" Isidor tilted his head teasingly, reveling in the feel of your bare skin underneath his fingers, "would you, Y/n?"

You nodded your head weakly. Your hands reached out, trembling, to fumble clumsily with the band of the prince's pants and boxers, slowly pulling it down like Isidor had done earlier. Isidor was impatient — he was already deftly and quickly unbuttoning his own shirt, discarding it into the pile that your clothes had formed.

And oh, you could see how the prince had been so truly tortured for the past year, in all the moments you had been oblivious to his advances. The tip of his bulbous cock was so swollen and red that you marveled at it — but a strange feeling settled into the pits of your stomach: how were you supposed to fit it in?

"Well," Isidor said in a low voice, "now that the matter of our clothes has been settled..." Slowly yet roughly, Isidor pushed you down to press flush against the bed, using his hands to pin you down and secure you. Your head was now resting on the pillows placed against the bed frame.

There was a brief stretch of silence.

"What are you doing?" You asked feebly, seeing how Isidor seemed to be so transfixed with you, "aren't you going to do something?"

"Admiring you." Isidor breathed out, "seeing how all this —" Isidor's hands gingerly traveled across the expanse of your chest, before resting upon your nipple and twisting it — "is mine now. Seeing how all that I've lusted for...every inch of you is all mine to touch."

"Isidor," you said, your voice cracking. "You're torturing yourself by waiting."

"And don't I know it." Isidor smiled.

"Isidor," you whined, your voice needy as the prince's fingers grazed your other nipple, "just—"

"Starving for it, are you?" Isidor kissed your bud, swirling his tongue around it. There was a sheen of saliva between your hard nipple and Isidor's mouth as he finished sucking it. Isidor moved towards the crook of your neck temporarily, lightly scraping his skin with teeth, just enough for a small mark to blossom as it followed the fangs of his teeth. You let out an unconscious moan, feeling as slight pain started to settle in.

Isidor looked with satisfaction at the mark that now adorned your neck, resuming his earlier actions — your hands twitched, body arching up as Isidor played idly with your nipple, rolling it leisurely between his fingers before pinching the sensitive and red bud.

A hand stopped you from rolling your hips towards Isidor's hard cock, pressing you further against the bed. Teeth tugged at your earlobe, biting it gently and possessively as light kisses were then bestowed upon your skin. A hopeless and tender groan fell from your lips as Isidor moved down to latch onto your other nipple — the one that had been spared earlier — glancing at you with a starved look.

"You taste so good..." Isidor mumbled, seeming to be lost in whatever pleasure he was experiencing — "ah, I just want to fuck you already."

Isidor was a prince. His language was often flowery and not crude. And yet now obscenities were being spewed from his lips like nothing. It made your chest tingle as you saw the power you held over the prince — as you realized the power the two of you had over each other.

Oh, you could bring Isidor down to his knees.

Your thighs were spread further apart, Isidor slotting himself right in between them as if he belonged there.

"I'll prepare you," Isidor leaned back as he opened the bedside drawer and took out a bottle of lube, making you immediately ask: how do you have lube so readily available? — to which, Isidor answered: for myself. "I'll prepare you, Y/n."

Ah fuck...you’re so cute. You are so, so cute. I just want to put it in already — I just want to fuck you already, Isidor thought in desperation, I just want you. But for the sake of your bottom half in the future...

Isidor coated his fingers and cock liberally with the slick liquid, his touch hot as he capped the bottle, chucking it to the side. The last vestiges of coherent, calm thoughts were slowly starting to vanish from Isidor's mind — so close. He was so close to feeling your walls squeezing along his hard length, just like he had always envisioned in his dirty dreams —

Heat surged through you, positively blazing as Isidor pressed two fingers relentlessly against your hole. The foreign sensation grounded you — sparks of pleasure tingled down your spine as Isidor wiggled his fingers around, pressing down onto your prostate. It held your impending orgasm at bay — albeit briefly — but you welcomed the feelings, moan after moan leaving your lips, the lewd sound mixing with the filthy sounds echoing around the room.

You hoped fervently that the rooms were advertised like they were — soundproof.

But even with two, you felt so full. It burned, yes, especially when Isidor added a third.

"Mgh," you moaned, "Isidor—ah, hngh—"

"I've waited, Y/n," Isidor purred, "I deserve to be a little selfish, don't I?"

Isidor was practically scissoring you open, consistently pressing down to the most sensitive spot in your hole — you writhed on those fingers as they plunged in deeper, milking your prostate with precise strokes. And when those fingers left, you felt empty, your walls clenching around nothing. A last finger trailed lightly over your twitching rim, the touch featherlight and gentle, yet as you were already sensitive from your earlier orgasm, you couldn't help but jolt at his touch.

"You took my fingers so willingly," Isidor cooed, "makes you wonder how you'll take my cock, right?"

"Will you — ah —" you panted, feeling your vision black out for the briefest moment — "Isidor —"

"Are you tired?" One last kiss was pressed onto your lips, chaste, but no less satisfying as the others — "bear with me a little longer."

"Isidor," you whined, giving a petulant moan. You were unsure of what you wanted. No, actually, screw that — you knew exactly what he wanted. You ran your nails along Isidor's back, causing the prince to hiss slightly, "just — just do what you want. Do what you want with me."

"Isn't that inviting?" Isidor's voice held no restraint, as he practically towered over you. "isn't that too inviting, Y/n?"

"Please — mgh,” you were sobbing now, tears streaming down your face. It was not of pain, however — it was due to the pure pleasure and ecstasy thrumming below your skin.

Isidor wiped away at your tear-smeared cheeks, shushing you softly and thumbing at your waist with sweetness and tenderness. "Oh," Isidor panted, "I promise you it won't hurt. I can't promise you that I'll be gentle, but —"

"Fuck me."

Isidor's head snapped up to meet you, real hunger swirling in his eyes. The nips on your skin veered into bites, and soon Isidor started to line his cock to the rim of your sensitive hole. As the tip prodded your entrance, you found Isidor's arms wrapping around your body, pulling you closer. Isidor grunted slightly as he started to press in slowly, as your body rejoiced at the feel of Isidor's girth entering your body, your walls tightening around it.

"Hah," you panted, "I-Isidor—"

The prince paused, allowing you to accommodate his size. Isidor grabbed your thighs, and in a quick motion, threw your legs over his shoulder, forcing you to lift your hips. And Isidor's grip on your hip stayed.

Trembling, you let out a wanton groan when you felt the tip of Isidor's cock twitch as it brushed against the hot, slick ring of muscle, clearly eager to plunge inside. And you were more than ready to accommodate it — to accommodate the warmth; the demand. A filthy sound echoed yet again around the room as Isidor pushed his cock deeper into you. And you couldn't help but keen as you felt yourself being breached, violent shivers wrecking and coursing through you as Isidor slid in with his entire length in a single thrust.

Slowly but surely, Isidor bottomed out, sinking deeper, splitting you open and punching all the air out of you. You were left gasping, breathing in and out rapidly. Isidor was huge, you thought, left shaking at the stretch, with Isidor all the way in. Your vision turned black for a moment, and you feared you would pass out from overstimulation. But that moment passed, and you were still there. Alive.

Your legs were suspended over Isidor's shoulder, your back upright against the bed frame. And Isidor started off with a slow pace, and slowly set up a steady rhythm that left you gutted every time the prince thrusted back in.

Isidor wrapped his arms around you and pulled you until the two of you were impossibly close, his cock rubbing deep against your insides, causing you to gasp against the skin of Isidor's neck. Briefly, Isidor seemed to catch sight of your reflection in a tiny mirror on the bedside table — and the prince smiled as he grabbed your chin and angled you towards it.

You flushed.

"Look how pretty you are, Y/n. Look, Y/n. Look at your pretty little face. Look at your eyes...your nose...your lips. Such a cutie just for me, right?"

You could not answer — it felt like you were getting pried open to the point that your brain couldn't register anything.

The pace had started to increase, and Isidor had clearly become greedier with his thrusts turning more vicious and earth-shattering. Each one sent you pushed against the bed frame, and Isidor burrowed his head into your neck, breathing heavily in your ear.

"Haa — You feel so good," Isidor looked almost relieved that all his pent up sexual frustration over the months — the year — had finally been resolved, "oh, Y/n...you take me so well — aren't you just made for me?"

Compliments and sweet sensibilities continued to roll off Isidor's lips.

"Aren't you just such a pet?" Isidor breathed out shakily, "Aren't you just perfect for me? Fuck —” You rolled his hips amidst a delicious burn. Something blazed in Isidor — he slammed in deeper than the previous thrust, dragging his length over your prostate.

"My stamina — it's terribly bad," you choked out, spots beginning to swarm around your vision. But still your body continued to move against Isidor's.

"And yet you're still doing wonderfully." Isidor murmured, pressing a kiss onto your lips. Your lips were bitten raw and almost bloody, but Isidor's lips were slick and hot, and that sent more pleasure tingling down your spine — "aren't you?"

You seemed to burn. You didn't know just how your body was still holding up — when you would have expected that it would have been gone by now. But you couldn't dwell upon it — soft lips met yours, the movement languorous and easy as Isidor's mouth explored yours.

Isidor's hands moved up to frame your face, shaking a little bit from the emotions coursing through him. He'd wanted this. Had yearned for it for years. And here he was, with his cock in you, watching as pleasure blazed in his beloved's eyes.

Nothing could compare to the feeling of your mouth against his, the way your skin felt underneath his soft caresses, frantic and urgent. Yes — Isidor, though starved, could be gentle, reverent, adoring. The kiss was so soft, tender, and sweet that it made you dizzy.

"Isidor, please — haa, fuck me," you pleaded. You felt the cock inside of you twitch, the sensation almost too much for your tightly wound body. It felt near overwhelming how deep Isidor reached, how thoroughly stretched your ass was around the throbbing erection inside of you.

Isidor's pace was faster now, and his thrusts were going sloppy. You could feel the way Isidor tugged your hair to kiss you wildly and messily unlike the previous soft kisses — and with a low groan of your name, Isidor buried himself to the hilt, spilling himself deep inside of you. Warmth — pure warmth pooled low in your belly, and Isidor's cock pulsed with the last of its release. This was cherished, inviting warmth, and Isidor pressed a firm kiss onto your forehead and shifted his hips back, slipping out. His cock had softened compared to before and yet still —

You felt completely and utterly gone. Boneless. Used.

You could feel Isidor's cum slowly trickling out of your abused hole, but you currently cared very little about sullying yourself or the sheets.

"I'll clean you," Isidor said hoarsely, wrapping you in his arms. "Come here, darling."

Your vision was fading in and out — you were immensely tired, and yet — how horny was Isidor? You would have expected for his appetite to have been whetted after the prince spilled all that in you — after he had relentlessly pounded you — but still, Isidor's stamina had not waned. If anything, the prince was only stopping out of consideration.

You allowed yourself to be carried and to be brought into the bathroom — there were a few wet and sloppy kisses exchanged between the two of you, with Isidor nearly pressing onto you against the table — but whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, Isidor managed to turn on the tap, run the bath, and enter the bath along with you. There were a few peaceful minutes as you collected your thoughts and feelings, your breaths managing to steady.

And it was with mirth you realized that just a while ago, the two of you had bathed here, with you utterly oblivious.

And now you weren’t oblivious to the fact that Isidor — he was still horny. It was concerning how a human could hold so much hunger for someone.

...Should I...?

You cupped the prince's cheek, looking at him meaningfully while using your leg to nudge Isidor's erection. Despite how exhausted you were — though those few minutes had saved your lungs, albeit temporarily — you were selfish enough to want the both of you to feel satisfied. You wanted the first time to be equally desirable for both of you. And besides...you did need to train your stamina, didn't you?

"Are you that insatiable?" You asked, tilting your head. Your voice was now rendered hoarse. You felt like you had just gotten the living lights fucked out of you mercilessly — your back was aching, with the countless of times you had nearly been folded against the bed frame — and your nipples and lips were sore, having been bitten.

A heated sensation went right to Isidor's cock.

"You can still fuck me," you murmured, "here."

In normal circumstances, Isidor would have said no. But here you were. pliant, offering him this decision — how could the prince resist?

"You might regret this decision," Isidor warned, starting to move towards you. One hand held the back of your head, so the proceeding thrust would not cause you to topple right over — while the other hand gripped your already bruised hip. It was a rather interesting position, with you straddled over him, Isidor's cock pressed against your stomach.

You smiled gently. "I won't. So you're really that insatiable, I suppose."

With that final affirmation, Isidor lifted your hips slowly, dragging his length over the puffiness of your hole. It was much too ambitious to think about fucking you again but god, Isidor so wanted to. And he would. Isidor would fuck you again, with your

Your hole was slick and wet already from the earlier rounds, and so slipping it in was easy. In fact, so easy — that Isidor started to marvel at just how made for each other you two were — and his gaze dropped down to the evidence of the penetration — the slight bulge in your lower stomach. Your ass was sitting so sweetly and nicely on his cock, your walls squeezed around it. You gave a little moan as you started to adjust yourself.

Isidor's voice came out so wrecked it was almost inaudible — and he answered your question belatedly. "I'm afraid that yes, I am. I am that insatiable."

You were on his lap — you were —

...Riding him, amidst the waters.

The evidence of your previous pleasures was smeared between the two of your bodies, and Isidor languidly rolled once more into you, thrusting into your prostate once more. And all you could do was sit there prettily and gasp as your cock twitched against your abdomen, leaking more fluid onto yourself.

Your hands tightened around Isidor's neck, pulling him down for another filthy, wet kiss. Endless shivers and tiny spasms wrecked through you as Isidor kept fucking you, with moans and sounds falling all over your kiss-swollen lips. The pleasure in your body started to build once more. Exhaustion riddled your body, and yet your walls continued to clench around Isidor's intrusion, with the prince's fingers digging into your hips, his rhythm faltering for a split second before returning. This time, the thrust was faster and harder. Isidor was practically splitting you open.

Overstimulated, You felt like you were gone.

Your lips met with his in a mix of saliva and tongue, and you shuddered as Isidor grounded himself further, pushing his way inside until he was impossibly deep in you. The water sloshed around the two of you, and for the briefest moment, you wondered what it would have been like for your entire body to be beneath the water.

Whatever obscene sounds you made were muffled by Isidor's hungry mouth on yours, unrelenting and harsh. You were devoured, ravished, treasured — and you loved every bit of it.

Your stomach swooped as Isidor broke the kiss and started rocking into you faster, the thrusts stronger and deeper now as he took pleasure from your obedient body. With your breathing ragged and uneven, you closed your eyes and let the sensations wash over you. You could feel everything — the way Isidor pressed inside of you, the way Isidor fucked you until guttural cries were forcibly spilled from your mouth. You could feel the unrestrained desire, the pace quickening. There was the steady roll of hips against an addicting burn — Isidor thrusted in and out, his cock sliding into your wet hole continuously.

"Fuck," Isidor breathed out, "you're so perfect."

Your hole stretched so impossibly wide, taking in the prince deeply. There were a never ending mix of grunts, groans, and moans from the both of you, coupled with aborted renditions of Isidor's name — you were rendered speechless and helpless.

You could feel the sensation vividly — the warmth spreading through your belly, anchoring you. The searing heat that was diffusing in you, building and building until it threatened to overwhelm you. For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, you felt the imminent sensation of your release.

Isidor thrusted, harder, pressing his cock as deep into you as it could go. You clenched around Isidor, muscles constricting involuntarily and rippling around the cock fucking you open. A low groan sounded below you, as Isidor's hips stuttered for a brief second before he found his rhythm again. Your body was wet with the water but the slipperiness of it only reduced the friction between Isidor’s and your body — Isidor took your lips in his, ravaging them.

"Fuck," Isidor panted, voice strained from the effort of plowing into you. "You're so cute." The prince could not seem to stop the honeyed praises from falling from his lips.

Another thrust ripped a moan from your throat. Isidor was pounding into you, his motions merciless and relentless. You clawed at his back, your walls tightening as he struggled to accommodate Isidor's size.

You pushed your hips back down — Isidor's body responded, and he flexed his hips just in time to meet with your downward grind, and that was the last straw. It was enough for you to release once more, and your back arched as you spilled on the thick length lodged right against your prostate, walls quivering. Isidor had come too, and now the both of you were panting, with you seated firmly on the prince's cock. The spilled seed leaked from your puffy and tender hole.

You could feel yourself really about to black out this time round. It was a miracle that you had made it this far — if not for the small break you had had in the bath, you would have collapsed by now. Strong, muscular hands wrapped around your waist, and Isidor was pressing tender kiss after kiss on the marks littered on your skin. It was like the prince was trying to map everything out again.

Lips rasped against your cheek, and you felt a hand brush your loose hair away from your face. Isidor's voice was low and sweet as he spoke: "Rest well, darling."

And with that, you blacked out, your exhausted body slumping against the cold tiles of the bathroom.

please support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting

#eroswrites #male reader #yandere x male reader #male reader insert #soft yandere #x bottom male reader #yandere smut #yandere oc x reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere x you #layout inspired by vei sama

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v3lvieraven · 10 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐳𝐞

(Riddle, Floyd, Leona, Malleus, Lillia)

Synopsis- reader tends to give really big and tight squeezes similar to Floyd whenever they hug/cuddle/get excited

Warnings- cursing, mood swings (Floyd), accidentally pushing away (riddle)

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞

•he collared you for the first time

•this didn’t really do shit though considering you have zero magic.

•takes him a second to realize then un-collars you!

•After a few times of him lying through his teeth about not liking it, you figured you should stop.

•But those squeeze times had found their way into his schedule, literally.

•so when you stop squeezing him it messes his schedule up! Which is absolutely unacceptable.

•usually he wouldn’t straight up tell you his feelings but his poor poor organized schedule was falling apart! And all because you stopped the squeezing.

•“Why aren’t you doing the squeeze thing anymore?”

•You opened your mouth to answer but seeing his unusually upset expression you kept it shut

•With a shake of your head you bring him into your arms with a big squeeze.

•”Awww you like my squeezes!”

•”shh… you have three hours to make up to me”

•that meaning he made you squeeze him in bed for three hours (after his already busy schedule)

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝

•he fell in love the moment you squeezed him.

•obviously it wasn’t as tight as he does it.

•but he still loves it nonetheless!

•he definitely pouts whenever you arnt squeezing him. Which makes it very inconvenient for Jade and you.

•he’s very clingy though, but if he saw you squeeze someone else, even if it was in a friend way. He gets so jealous!

•when you went to give him a squeeze a few hours after he saw it, he probably would yell at you.

•He has really bad mood swings so it’s not surprising but it didn’t hurt any less.

•depending on your personality this could go two ways-

•first way: you give him space

•he would be more aggressive towards everyone at first.

•Azul and Jade had begged you to calm him down but you stood your ground.

•not wanting to cross his boundaries.

•but after he gets his anger out one way or another, he realizes he royally fucked up.

•Definitely starts crying and finds you, drags you into a bed, and squeezes you. VERY HARD.

•ends in you either passing out or he falls asleep.

•second way: you wait like thirty minutes and give him another squeeze

•after about thirty minutes he should have probably calmed down

•other than his pout and occasional muttering he is actually holding onto you for dear life.

•both ways he bites you tho.

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚

•HE IS LOVIN IT

•When you found him in the botanical garden asleep you thought this was the perfect time to cuddle with him

•momentarily forgetting about your habit

•it woke him up, he probably hisses at you, even when he realizes it’s you.

•Almost shoved you off until he notices that he really likes this.

•often orders Ruggie to escort you to him whenever he is in a bad mood or a squeeze mood.

•I’m gonna be honest I actually can’t imagine if he were to get mad at you for squeezing him, ironic considering his temper

•like Floyd he can and will bite you to get what he wants.

•he flops on top of you often and demands it with light insults.

•Maybe you should try squeezing him whenever he overblots that might work.

•soon finds out he can’t really sleep without the pressure around him.

•one night when you were on a small trip somewhere he couldn’t sleep, so he tried to squeeze himself with his tail.

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬

•craves it more than anything.

•please don’t stop. He will actually cry.

•he’s really touch staved, so whenever you show up and squeeze him, he returns the gesture

•thinks of it as a human way of expressing love

•which it is to you.

•he’s so adorable, you can’t understand why anyone is Afraid of him. Of course he can be scary but not to you

•He also cries when you do squeeze him, but out of happiness. So either way, if you do or don’t, he will still probably cry.

•Sebek scolds you a lot because you started this and now he often gets really mad and causes thunderstorms.

•sneaks into your dorm and kicks grim off the bed and onto the couch

•poor grim :(

•Sometimes when he’s had a particularly bad day and he needs to unwind he will come to you. Which usually ends up with him letting out some of his more dragon features.

•Not fully though, unless you are okay with him destroying a bit of your dorm house.

•overall he loves you dearly, wouldn’t trade this for anything at all.

•please keep going!

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚

•he teases you all the time for it.

•the first time though he was genuinely surprised but wiped that expression off his face VERY quickly

•he sleeps upside down so sometimes he will ask you if you wanna stay upside down with him and do your thing

•most of the time your squeezing sessions will turn into play fight or tickle session instead

•he gets really giddy when it happens

•don’t be fooled though, he will threaten anyone you squeeze.

•also might curse them or something but you don’t need to know that!

•He’s smitten for you though, and even when it sometimes doesn’t feel like it because of his playful demeanor, he truly appreciates these moments with you

•might sometimes mutter things under his breath before he falls asleep in your arms.

• “don’t let me go..”

• “your squeezes are mine…”

•he means the second one in all seriousness though.

•this is one of the most vulnerable times when he is too sleepy to keep his silly facade

•not saying he isn’t silly naturally, but sometimes he covers up his problems with his cuteness or calm demeanor.

•He’s usually not as silly when he’s not with you, but again, sometimes he uses it to cover that he is hurting

•so please don’t call the things he is saying at the moment “silly” because he means them with his whole heart.

•just keep squeezing and reassuring him, and he will open up!

Note- totally not based off the fact I squeeze ppl when I hug/cuddle

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland fluff #twisted wonderland #lillia vanrouge #leona kingscholar #twst #riddle rosehearts #floyd leech #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #floyd leech x reader #Lillia vanrouge x Reader

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nottsangel · 3 days ago

Text

blood moon — t.n. & m.r. part 1

pairing: dark!theodore nott x fem!reader x dark!mattheo riddle. (mattheo makes his appearance in pt2)

warnings: smut 18+, dubcon, breaking and entering, violence, blood, knives (cutting into skin), rough oral sex (m. receiving), mask kink, mentions of murder, swearing

word count: 4k

summary: purge night— a night you’ve feared all year despite coming from a rich and powerful family. but when six masked men show up at your door, are you really as safe as you thought?

the purge au… moodboard. nav. more.

“This is not a test, this is your Emergency Broadcast System. Announcing the commencement of the annual purge sanctioned by the Government. Weapons of class four and lower have been authorised for use during the purge; all other weapons are restricted. Commencing at the siren, any and all crime (including murder) will be legal for 12 continuous hours. Police, fire, and Emergency Medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7:00 a.m, when the purge concludes. Blessed be our new founding fathers—”

“Blah, blah, blah… we get it. Same shit every year.” Pansy sighed dramatically through the phone, her tone dripping with annoyance. You could tell she was rolling her eyes, and you didn’t need to see her to know she was slouched lazily somewhere.

Not much later, the ominous, bone-chilling sirens blared violently through the entire city, blasting through the walls and echoing in the still-empty streets. The all so familiar sound never failed to give you goosebumps all over your stiffened body, instantly raising your heartbeat. You briefly closed your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart as you struggled to control your shaky breathing.

“Hellooo? Are you still there or have you been murdered already?” Pansy joked with a taunting laugh. Your eyes snapped open, her static-filled voice dragging you back to reality, and her humorous tone nearly making you forget the reality of this cruel night.

Because it wasn’t just any regular night— it was Purge Night. The one night you’d been dreading all year, every year, in which all crime becomes legal for twelve long hours. Logically, you were well aware that you had nothing to fear. Your parents were successful entrepreneurs with plenty of money to afford the most advanced security equipment, keeping you safe from any outside danger.

Yes, to protect you, and only you. Not them— they were out at a purge party, the details of which you didn’t even want to know, shamelessly networking with other high-profile elites while the poor were brutally murdered in the streets surrounding them. Everything about this night gave you a sickening feeling in your stomach. But of course, you knew it would be fine. All you had to do was survive— survive in your mansion, surrounded by unbreachable security. Nothing was going to happen.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny.” you responded, your voice tinged with irritation as you hurried from your bedroom down the wooden stairs to the security room, figuring that if you could check the cameras around the house, it might calm you down a bit. You couldn’t shake the feeling of needing to tiptoe carefully down each step, as though someone might hear you— which was ridiculous, considering how large and heavily secured the house was.

The eerily quiet house was broken by the first distant, chilling screams of pure terror from outside, making you grimace as you opened the creaky door to the small room, your eyes instantly squinting at the many bright screens that made your eyes burn.

“It’s just… I hope this night will be over soon, that’s all.” you continued, one hand holding the phone close to your ear while your eyes fleetingly scanned over the security cameras, which were strategically placed to cover every corner outside the house.

“Oh please, don’t be such a scaredy-cat! Every year it goes just fine, so this year will be no different. When has anything…” Pansy chattered in her usual attempt to comfort you, completely unaware that her words were only doing the opposite, when her voice slowly faded away into the background and your eyes narrowed at one of the top-right screens, which was focused on your front door. What the fuck?

With your heart nearly pounding out of your chest and your hand shakily gripping the phone, you inched closer to the screen, moving as slowly as possible, almost as if the slowness would somehow alter the nightmare playing out before you. A sudden coldness washed over you, your eyes rapidly blinking. No, no, no… this can’t be happening.

On the pixelated, dark screen, you saw six masked men standing in front of your door, their heads tilted as they stared right at the cameras. You felt lightheaded, your left hand reaching up to lightly clasp your throat, the panic threatening to overwhelm you once you noticed the various weapons they were holding— baseball bats, knives, axes, and god knows what else.

“P—pansy… I, uh… there are people standing in front of my door…” you stammered shakily, still staring at the screen, your body frozen in place with your hand gripping the phone so tightly that your knuckles turned white and your breathing became ragged and uneven.

“Oh, they’re probably just trying to scare you, babe. I mean, come on, they can’t even come in for fuck’s sake!” she let out a mocking laugh as the chaotic thoughts in your head raced a hundred miles an hour, leaving you paralysed with uncertainty.

“Pansy, what the fu— you know what? Forget it.” you snapped, your trembling fingers tapping frantically at the screen before finally ending the call, frustrated at not being taken seriously by your best friend— though, to be fair, when had she ever?

You hastily slipped your phone into your back pocket, already dreading the snarky text she was sure to send you for ending the call, before shifting your attention back to the screen. One of the men removed his mask, prompting you to move even closer with narrowed eyes, your forehead nearly touching the cold glass.

“Good evening.” he called out in a stoic, chilling voice, his shiny black hair neatly styled, and his stance tall, commanding and unmistakably intimidating.

“Sorry to bother you at this ungodly hour, but let me kindly introduce myself. My name is Tom, and these guys— they are my friends.” The scene you were intently staring at filled you with pure terror— this unknown man named Tom, surrounded by men in masks, each carrying weapons that could easily kill you, weapons that were already completely soaked in blood, the dark droplets dripping ominously onto your front porch.

“This can go one of two ways; you simply let us in, and we will steal— sorry, I mean take whatever we desire, and then, we leave! Or… we can do this the hard way. But I can assure you, you will not survive the latter.” His tone was almost amused as he finished speaking, and through the grainy pixels, you could see a controlled, sinister smile spreading across his pale face.

“Do not think you are invincible. We can enter any home we want. And we will want, as wanting is our will on this fine purge night. Do not force us to hurt you.”

His menacing words sent tingles across your skin, all the muscles in your body tightening. And for a good ten minutes, they did nothing but stand there, staring straight into the camera, waiting—expecting—for you to open the door for them.

It was a chilling sight. Almost as if you were staring at a photograph, the men stood completely still, their blood-covered hands tightly gripping their equally blood-soaked weapons, knowing your blood would be next to splatter across them, mixing with that of other poor, helpless victims.

When they realised you weren’t going to open the door, Tom gave his men a quick signal, waving his finger in the air, which caused you to cock your head in both curiosity and unease.

“Alright then.” He said, the sinister smile on his face growing wider. But it was fine. You knew they couldn’t come inside anyway. Your house was so securely protected, there was no way they could come in and— Is that a fucking blowtorch?

“Yes, we are prepared. And you— oh, you chose the wrong option.” Tom coldly stated as if he could read your mind, dragging the words in a chilling tone. Two of his men quickly got to work, the blowtorch slowly cutting through the thick metal doors, meanwhile, Tom continued to stare directly at the camera, his evil, dark smile never faltering, his soulless eyes not blinking once.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” This was when real panic set in, your eyes flickering with pure terror as you slowly backed away from the screens, gripping whatever furniture was nearby to steady yourself. You hurried out of the room, realising this was the time to hide.

Quickly but silently running up the stairs again, you heard the agonising sound of the blowtorch cutting through the metal, sending shivers all over your body and urging you to move faster.

You burst into your room, breathless, slamming the door behind you and you panickedly scanned the small space, frantically searching for the best hiding spot. There weren’t many options, but the closet seemed like your only chance, so without hesitation, you flung the door open, stepped inside, and crouched down, wrapping your trembling arms tightly around your knees.

“It’ll be fine, it’ll be fine, it’ll be fine.” You kept repeating to yourself in a quiet, trembling voice, desperately trying to gaslight yourself into believing it. But who the fuck are you kidding? They were inevitably coming in, and then… well, you didn’t even want to think about it.

You gasped loudly at the sudden sound of a loud bang, followed by distant voices and approaching footsteps downstairs. Nibbling on your bottom lip and one hand clutching your throat, you struggled to calm your ragged breathing, but hoping to make out the conversation happening downstairs— although you weren’t even sure if you wanted to hear it in the first place.

“We are coming, aha! And we will find you, you little fucking bitch” an unfamiliar voice taunted from down the stairs followed by a menacing laugh, clearly relishing the undeniable fear they were instilling in you as the footsteps and faint chatter grew louder with every passing second.

“Mattheo, control yourself. Search for the girl downstairs, and Theo, you check upstairs. The rest of us will take whatever is valuable and leave for the next house.” You heared Tom instruct two of his men, his voice stern and cold, before adding, “Oh, and whatever you do, make it as painful as possible. I want her to suffer.”

Goosebumps covered your entire body hearing the chilling words, and you could tell that these guys didn’t fuck around. Everything about them was incredibly organised and prepared. This wasn’t their first time purging. No, they knew exactly what they were doing.

Heavy, resolute footsteps then made their way up the stairs, each deep step resonating through the house, making the silence feel like it was closing it. Theo. There was no way out of this. The only thing you could do was pray that he wouldn’t find you. But deep down, you knew he would.

“You can’t hide from me, piccola.” a deep, husky voice teased, his voice slightly muffled by the mask he wore. It surprised you to hear a foreign accent— Italian, you guessed. And fuck, you could punch yourself in the face right now for finding it… hot.

The steps grew louder, tantalisingly slow, until his footsteps reached your room. Your hand flew to your mouth to keep yourself quiet, your brows furrowed as you squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on steadying your breath. Your heart beat out of your chest, and you worried it was beating loud enough for him to hear.

Then it was quiet. No sounds. You swallowed, your mouth feeling dry with tears brimming at your waterline, and you gasped when you suddenly heard his voice so close to you. Thank fucking god you still had your mouth covered.

“You’re here, aren’t you?” He said in a dark, knowing manner, and the only thing you could do at this very moment was repeat ‘please don’t find me’ in your head while only hoping your death would be less painful than Tom had ordered it to be. “I know you are...”

The closet door then abruptly swung open, causing you to let out a loud, surprised gasp. The tears you had so desperately tried to suppress now uncontrollably streamed down your cheeks as your head shot up. Soft ‘no’s slipped from your lips when he grabbed you by the arm and aggressively pulled you out of the closet, the words barely audible and you panickedly shook your head, feeling lightheaded due to pure fear.

“Shut up, cazzo.” he muttered irritably as he threw you on your bed with exasperated aggression. And you immediately complied— not only because he asked you to, but because you didn’t want Matthew to hear you, knowing that Theo had found you, worried of what he might do to you. Matthew… Was his name even Matthew?

He stood still before you, and for the first time, you took him in, scanning him from head to toe as his imposing, tall frame loomed over you, casting a shadow over where you sat on the bed.

A white mask fully covered his face, and in his right hand, he held a bloody, sharp knife, causing you to gulp in fear. Oh, he looked fucking terrifying— but there was something else, something other than fear deep inside of you. A feeling you desperately tried to suppress. A feeling you felt ashamed to feel. A feeling you could not bring yourself to admit.

“Huh.” he commented, his head tilting slightly to the left. “Tom didn’t tell me you were such a pretty little thing.” he reached his hand out, his thumb brushing over your cheek, causing you to instinctively pull away, stiffening under his touch.

“Così carina.” he chuckled mockingly, and your eyes were drawn to his hand that was expertly spinning the knife. His other hand then abruptly gripped your hair, making you gasp, and he slightly tilted your head to expose your neck.

From your peripheral vision, you could see the bloody knife drawing closer to your neck, making you instantly shut your eyes with furrowed brows, knowing this was it.

“Can’t wait to see these white sheets turn red.” Theo taunted, but you were shaking, crying and nervously biting down on your lip so hard that blood welled up, waiting for the moment you finally felt the sharp knife against your delicate skin.

And then you did. You felt the cold blade lightly dig into the skin of your neck, the sharp, stinging sensation causing you to tightly grip the sheets, followed by fresh, crimson droplets of blood slowly trickling down your skin— but then he stopped.

“Hm. You know what, bella?” Theo paused for a moment, crouching down to get on eye level with you. The closer he got to you, the faster your heart raced, your whole body heating up with a mix of fear and something else. The deep sense of guilt you felt for feeling… this way gnawed at you from the inside.

“I might just have other plans for you.” Your head snapped toward him, and you hissed at the fresh cut stretching open, your hand instinctively reaching to the wound, carefully dabbing your fingers on the blood still trickling out.

“You wanna live?” He questioned, and you reluctantly nodded, still unable to shake off the feeling of unease, even as a slight sense of relief—or maybe hope— began to grow inside of you.

“Then I advise you to get on your knees before I change my mind.” You blinked rapidly, unsure if you heard him correctly. Surely not.

“I— what?” You stammered, breathing in so fast you nearly choked on air as your heart pounded out of your chest.

“Oh, you heard me.” He rose to his feet, and your eyes intently followed his every movement. The way the moonlight seeped through the blinds illuminated him, and for the first time, you could clearly see his ocean-blue eyes gazing down at you with intense focus— the only feature of his face that was visible through the mask.

He reached the knife out again, causing you to flinch, but this time he pressed it under your chin to lift your head, the pointy end digging into your soft skin.

“You don’t think I noticed?” he began, and you sat frozen, knowing that a single movement would press the knife deep into your skin.

“You don’t think I noticed the way you looked at me with those pretty eyes?” You raised an eyebrow in puzzlement, unsure of what he was hinting at, and you absolutely hated this— the vagueness of his words. You hated having to guess what he meant. It made you anxious.

“I have purged a lot of people, bella. And there is one thing aaall of them have in common— they all have this same, fearful look in their eyes.” he continued, and it made you wonder what he saw in yours.

“But you… cazzo. With you, I see something else sparkling in those pupils.” The way the mask muffled his voice made you unconsciously lean in closer to hear him better, and he did the same, but for an entirely different reason, until you were merely inches apart. It was a strange observation to make in such a moment like this, but oddly enough, he smelt nice, very nice. A pleasant, musky cologne with the undertone of cigarettes filled your senses.

“With you I see… lust, yearning, desperation.” he whispered into your ear, the knife digging deeper into your skin, yet still not deep enough to draw blood. Your eyes shot wide open before locking with his, and you felt caught. He hit the hammer right on the nail.

“Go on, tell me I’m fuckin’ wrong.” but you couldn’t. You couldn’t tell him he was wrong. Because he wasn’t. Your eyes darted nervously around the room, unable to meet those intense, piercing eyes as the ache between your legs only grew stronger.

“Yeah… that’s what I thought. Bet your panties are soaked already, aren’t they?” you heard a muffled, condescending chuckle coming from under his mask as he slowly twisted the knife under your chin. You so desperately wanted to bite back, to defend yourself, to tell him that he was being ridiculous— but the words were stuck in your throat.

“So… back to where we were.” he growled as he unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants down, suddenly remembering Matthew wandering around downstairs and being able to walk in at any time, causing him to rush.

“C’mon sweetheart. I need to feel those pretty lips wrapped around me if you want to live, a’ight? If Mattheo finds us, it’s over for you.” Ohhhh, Mattheo… right, right.

You hesitantly walked over to him before getting on your knees right in front of him— right in front of his already hard erection trapped in his boxers, desperately wanting to escape as the tip formed a wet patch of precum on the fabric.

“Well… you know I could just kick you in the balls right now and run away?” There it finally was— the words that had been stuck in your throat, and the boldness inside of you that had finally come free. It was that unexpectedly tender demeanour of his emerging in brief moments, causing you to see him in a humane light, which stilled your fears.

He scoffed before aggressively gripping your hair and pulling your head back, causing you to hiss at the fresh wound on your neck stinging at the movement. He drew closer to you before suddenly holding the knife to your throat again, the softness you’d glimpsed earlier vanishing in an instant.

“Oh yeah? You don’t think I’m gonna find you and cut you open? Go for it. Give it a try. Let’s see how that ends.” he warned in a low, menacing tone, your brows furrowing as you clenched your teeth, staring right into his narrowed eyes.

“Acting as if you aren’t practically begging to suck me off right now, tsk. Hurry the fuck up.” he ordered in a harsh tone, abruptly letting go of your hair and retracting the knife from your throat.

Realising you had no other choice but to follow his orders, you stared up at his masked face, before your gaze fell on his boxers. You could tell he was big just from the imprint through the thin fabric— oh, there was no doubt in that. Reluctantly, you drew your head closer to his crotch, teasingly using your teeth to pull the waistband of his boxers down before slowly sliding them off.

“See, I knew you were a fucking slut.” he growled, his amusement evident as his erection sprang free against his toned abs, precum glistening at the tip. Oh, well fuck. He was indeed huge, causing your eyes to widen momentarily as you swallowed hard. You glanced back up at him one more time, and he gave you a sharp nod, his hand on the back of your head pressing insistently, urging you closer.

Your head slowly inched closer to his intimidatingly large cock, and you started with placing soft kitten licks on the tip, tasting the salty precum, when suddenly a mischievous smile began to curve your glossed lips. In one swift, unexpected motion, you wrapped your mouth around his throbbing length, firmly pressing your teeth into the skin while at the same time your hand darted to his balls, your sharp nails digging deep into the sensitive flesh.

“That fuckin’ hurts, you bitch. Cazzo!” Theo cursed, aggressively pushing you back until you hit the bed, yet the same mischievous smile on your face only widened. It confused him how the terrified, weak girl he saw earlier had transformed into… this.

“Didn’t expect you to be such a fucking pussy.” you challenged him, fire burning in your eyes. Not because you wanted to die, but because deep down you knew you weren’t going to. If he wanted to kill you, he would’ve done that already. With the precum leaking from his painfully hard erection right in front of you, you knew the only thing on his mind was finding his release. He was a man after all— simple, driven by his desires.

“You better shut that little mouth—”

“Or what? You're gonna threaten me again with that stupid little knife—” before you could even finish your sentence, he grabbed you by the hair, yanking you roughly towards him, his cock forcing its way into your mouth. The tip hit the back of your throat instantly, triggering your gag reflex as you struggled to breathe around his thick, aching erection. He quickly set a brutal rhythm, bucking his hips aggressively into your mouth, and you felt your eyes well with tears, saliva running down your chin.

“If you stop, I’ll make you fucking regret it.” His hand gripped your hair in a tight ponytail, pulling you to meet his thrusts as he relentlessly fucked your mouth. Gagging sounds filled the room as he forced your head down as far as possible, groaning at the sight beneath him— a sight that could so easily make him come already.

“You wanted this from the start, huh? Such a pathetic—” Theo’s sentence was then abruptly cut off when the door suddenly swung open and slammed against the wall, causing you both to freeze and stare, wide-eyed and horrified. A chill ran down your spine as you noticed another masked man standing in the doorway, holding a blood-soaked baseball bat while casually leaning against the doorframe. Oh no.

“Well, well, well… look what we have here. You really thought I wouldn’t find out, Theodore? How cute.”

Mattheo.

reminder: reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and keep me motivated. ty! ♡

a/n: thank you sm for reading ^_^!!!!!!! this was supposed to be one long fic but i decided to cut in into two (or maybe more if needed) parts! im not sure when the next part will be posted but ill try to work on it soon !!! <3

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morbidapples · 6 months ago

Text

i never forgot you

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽!𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟧,𝟨𝟣𝟧 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌; 𝟥𝟢,𝟨𝟣𝟢 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺, 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 (𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄), 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 (𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅), 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌. 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 ��𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson's coming?"

That's all anyone could talk about, Art this, Art that. So what if he was coming? You didn't give a shit. (You did, you always did when it came to him.)

Logically, you knew you might see him here, but emotionally, you were really hoping you wouldn't have to, especially considering there were hundreds of people at the Standford alumni gathering.

Once you'd graduated, you'd left all traces of him behind. Or at least, you tried. His name still popped into your head, his face sometimes even appeared in your dreams at night.

Even worse, promotion for him and Tashi Duncan's book was plastered over half the city of New Jersey. It certainly didn't help that one was on the billboard that you so unfortunately had a view of from the window of your apartment.

Your friendship with him had never been clear, but it had been everything but simple. You had felt there was always something more, with the lingering glances, and the gentle touches.

But all of that had changed when she showed up. Tashi fucking Duncan. You felt robbed, stolen from. As soon as she'd stepped into the picture, Art's attention was solely on her.

So you left. Erased yourself out of his life completely. Distanced your life from his until you both graduated, and never looked back. Well, mostly.

Looking back, maybe it was selfish. But all you knew is that you couldn't bear to watch him fawn over her like a lost puppy. Not when you felt so deeply for him.

You shake your head, trying to break yourself out of your stupor. There's too many people here, and you hate it. You already know everyone will want to ask you about your life, your career.

Once you'd left Stanford, you'd made a name for yourself in the tennis world. You loved winning, but you despised the attention. But you knew it was the price to pay for success. So, you tried to keep as much of your private life out of the headlines as possible.

You needed to clear your head, get some fresh air. And figure out what the hell you were doing here, and why you thought it was a good idea to show up.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else had the same idea, as you're hit with the smell of smoke as soon as you step outside.

"Needed to get away, too?"

Your heart plummets at the familiar, yet unmistakable voice. The one person you'd prayed you wouldn't have to see. Art Donaldson.

You turn to see him leaning against the rail, taking a drag from his cigarette. You'd almost forgotten how utterly gorgeous he was until you laid your eyes on him, and it seemed like he'd only gotten better with age.

The smoke from the cigarette wafts off into the air, and your eyes lock with his. A moment of silence goes by. You want to greet him briefly and then walk off, but he speaks before you do.

"Long time, no see."

You mentally curse yourself for not being quick enough to have the first word, and nod slightly, an indifferent expression on your face.

"Art Donaldson. Has been a long time, hasn't it?"

He blows out another puff of smoke, eyeing you. He'd be lying if he said he'd forgotten about you. You were someone who had haunted him for years, through his entire marriage with Tashi. He could never forget about you, no matter how much time had passed.

"You haven't changed a bit."

You don't say anything, not quite sure how to respond. It's true, it had been years since you and him had last spoken. But what you didn't know is that he had made an effort to keep up with you. He'd been keeping tabs on how you were doing with your tennis career. He'd never admit it, but he was guilty of googling you, to find only headlines of your tennis wins, and barely anything about your personal life.

It seemed like when you weren't playing tennis, you basically ceased to exist, which he suspected was your choice entirely. Despite the years of zero contact, Art couldn't pretend like he didn't care for you. That he didn't still love you, even if he'd been so incredibly blind to it back in your college days.

"Congratulations, by the way." Art says, alluring to your recent conquest in the tennis world. "Winning gold at the Rio Games is no small feat." He can see in your expression that winning that medal wasn't completely satisfying. Your face tells him that you haven't felt a sense of contentment in a very long time.

He wants to ask you why you disappeared. He'd wanted to for years. But all that comes out is, "How's your family?" Stupid question with an even stupider answer. He wanted to slap himself in the face. He knew your family was a sore topic for you. And yet, he was still coming up with mindless small talk to try to fill the unbearable tension between you.

You sigh. "Fine, minus my bitch of a mother. She passed a couple years ago." Art internally winces. He knew you'd had it bad at home, only living with your mother for most of your life after your father had left when you were nine. You'd moved to California to attended Stanford the moment you'd become a legal age to be on your own.

He sucks in a sharp breath and frowns softly as you talk about your mother's passing. There was no love lost in between you and her, but he didn't want to be cruel and completely insensitive.

"Sorry about that." Art says, taking another hit off his cigarette. He looks at you, taking you in with a sense of wonderment. You had grown into such an incredible woman, and somehow, it seemed like you'd gotten even more beautiful. Your deep colored eyes and sun-kissed skin make his heart best faster. How he's missed you.

You shrug, trying not to show any hint of emotion on your face as you speak. "Eh, don't be. You know she was always a shit mother anyways."

If he was being honest, he'd say your mother was a lot of things- manipulative, selfish, abusive- but he would've been lying if Art said that he didn't want to protect you back then.

Looking back at it now, there's so many things he could've done differently back then, like be a better friend. Maybe even a better boyfriend, if he'd had the chance. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something stupid, but Art closes it and instead says, "Why'd you disappear? Why don't we talk?"

Your eyebrows raise slightly, at his inquiry. Truth be told, he knows what you don't talk anymore. He knows he fucked up, majorly. But he's relieved when you don't immediately snap at him, or worse. You always did have a short fuse.

"And how do you know I disappeared? Have you been keeping tabs on me?"

He looks at you, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious?" Art raises his brows, "You're not seriously asking me that. You're one of the best tennis players out there. You went radio silent." He pauses, before saying in a slightly teasing way, "You're the one who should've been keeping tabs on me."

You scoff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't have to. You and Tashi are plastered over half the buildings and billboards in Jersey." Jersey. Jersey? He was surprised you moved there out of all places. You'd always expressed a dislike for it back then.

Art chuckles at your response. "What, don't you like Jersey?" He jokes, flicking the cigarette away. He turns his body to look at you, studying your expression. "But seriously. Why did you drop off the face of the earth?" He's not going to tell you that he'd looked for you, even though he had. It was a few searches on Google, a few emails. You'd just vanished.

His mouth opens again, this time not backing down from what he really wanted to say. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse either." It sounds more like a command to you than anything. Art is really trying to keep himself from saying all the things he's wanted to say for years.

The thinly veiled frustration lining his voice sends a rush of anger through you. Who does he think he is, ordering you around?

"Don't speak to me that way. Like you have some type of control over me."

It's then Art knows he's screwed up, letting that irritation seep into his tone. He knows he doesn't have any control over you. He never has, and never will. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you again.

"I'm not. I know I don't have control over you. But did you forget that I was once your friend?" Friend. It pains him to even call you that. You were always more, even though he was completely sucked into Tashi's orbit, like she was the sun. She wasn't. Art stands taller, his broad shoulders straight, his eyes never pulling away from yours.

"Were we, though? You dropped me for Tashi the second she showed up, and you wonder why I haven't reached out?"

Art's teeth grind in his mouth. "That's not fair." He says gruffly, even though he's lying through his teeth. "I didn't drop you. If I remember correctly, you were the one who left." He's getting agitated, his heart starting to race, his hands starting to clench into fists.

But not towards you. God, never you. He'd rather die than ever cause you harm. But the thing is, you weren't wrong. That's exactly what he did.

"I left because I knew if I stuck around, it would never stop hurting me."

That's when Art knows, getting involved with Tashi was the worst thing he ever did. It cost him his friendship with Patrick, his love for tennis. It cost him you.

He knew that your words were laced with truth, that he truly was the root of the heartache that you felt. And he'd do anything to take it back. But he couldn't. The only thing be could do now it try to make it right.

As for his feelings, that's another can of worms Art doesn't even want to open. He'd always had feelings for you, feelings that he thought would go away. But no, years later, they were still as present as ever. He wished he hadn't been so blind.

"I've always been second to Tashi. I couldn't ever compete with her, Art."

He swallows hard. Deep down, he knows it's true. Back in your college days, he was so focused on Tashi that he'd failed to notice what was right in front of him.

Art's heart hurt for you. But even though he knew how much he'd hurt you, how selfish he'd been, he couldn't help but get upset at your words.

"You could never complete?" He huffs through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" Art steps forward, his body almost towering over you.

Rationally, he knows this isn't the right time or place, and maybe there won't ever be a right time or place. But you're here, now, and he won't lose you again without telling you how he feels.

A sudden heat washes over your body as he steps closer, his breath hitting your face.

"You could never, ever compete with Tashi, but not because you aren't good enough." His hand shoots up to touch your cheek, a soft touch to your skin. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, gently.

Everything in you screams for you to back away, go before you get hurt again. But you find yourself mesmerized by those same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

Art's voice is low and deep as he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never compete with her because I was stupid, I was stupid enough to fall in love with you first. But I pushed you away."

The confession is whispered, and you can hardly believe what he's said. What is going on? Art Donaldson is standing in front of you, declaring his love after years of no contact and a failed marriage to another.

"Art, I..." You don't know what to say. Your brain is mush, your head filled with a million thoughts, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You're missed, you're resented, you're loved, and now all you want to do is kiss him.

His hand cupping your cheek begins to slide down to your neck and his other hand slips around your waist, softly tugging you against him. His fingers slide through your hair and Art's eyes are on you, watching you, taking you in.

"I have loved you since we were kids. I was so stupid to not notice it before." He whispers, his breath hitching and his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "And I have never been able to get you out of my head or my heart. And I am sick and tired of pretending like you aren't the love of my goddamn life."

There isn't any hint of malice, or treachery in his eyes, and he hopes to God that you know that. He knows he can't ever take back the pain he caused you, but he wants to try even if it kills him.

With that, Art kisses you. It's hot, it's needy, and it's passionate as all hell. Your body is responding to him in ways you didn't even know was possible. As he continues to pour all his love for you into that kiss, it picks up in pace, until you feel Art's teeth biting your lip. Your mouth opens to respond, but his tongue slips inside your mouth, causing a low moan to hum out of you. Your tongues slide against each other, your bodies pressed together tightly.

Art can't help himself as his hands explore every inch of your body. One hand is buried in your hair, but the other is traveling down, exploring the bare skin of your back. You arch into him, your fingers digging into his shirt.

You taste like nicotine and beer, you taste like home, a flavor that makes him all that much hungrier for you. He lets out a low groan as he slips his hands into the back of your pants, causing you to moan into his mouth.

Art is starting to lose control and knows that if he doesn't stop this now, he'll take you right here in the grass outside the reunion. He doesn't want your first time to be like this. Not when there's been so much grief getting here, so much pain he's caused to you.

Reluctantly, he rips his mouth off of yours, pulling away slightly. Both of you are panting heavy, your cheeks flushed.

Art doesn't say anything at first. His eyes rake over your disheveled appearance, your lips swollen, your hair out of place. He's sure he looks just as bad. Clearing his throat, he mutters a soft apology. "This isn't happening here. Can I..." He's about to say that he wants to take you back to his hotel.

You nod quickly, eyes blown wide with desire, but with love, too. "Y-yeah. Yeah." After all this time, not seeing him, you'll be damned if you let him slip through your fingers again.

That's all Art needs to hear. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading the way to his car. Thank god the reunion was being hosted at a hotel, or Art wouldn't have been able to control himself.

After getting into the car, Art speeds out of the parking lot, his hand never letting go of yours. The drive back is a bit of a blur, his focus solely on you.

When you arrive at his hotel, Art is pulling you down the hallway, your lips connected like two magnets, unable to stay away from each other. Every step is like a challenge as you make your way to the room. All the while, you both stumble over your own feet until you feel your back against the door. You moan into his mouth once more, pulling at Art's shirt, before your kiss is broken by a panting Art.

"Wait," Art whispers, his voice soft. His eyes look at you in the dark of the hallway, his breath coming in hard pants. He's about to ask you if you want this, but your lips meeting his, your hands exploring his bare chest underneath the shirt, is all the answer he needs. He fumbles around for the handle of the door, trying to put the key card in, and it seems like an eternity until you stumble into the room.

Once inside the bedroom, Art is pulling you on top of him on the bed, his body desperate for you to be closer. You shift in his lap, pressing yourself against him, his hardness against your thigh. You gasp, hands running down his chest. Your lips remain locked as your fingers explore each other. Art is running his hands under your shirt, exploring your waist and sides eagerly.

And that's when Art's brain is hit with a sudden realization. He pulls back, breathing heavily, "Wait. We need to stop." He says, his voice firm. Art's eyes find you, and your brow is furrowed as you look at him with confusion and desire.

"What is it?" You ask, your breathing shallow. Art's hands on your sides make you shiver, his touch awakening every inch of your body. "Do you..." You pause, watching his face, "Do you not want this?" Your voice is soft and questioning.

His hands on your sides grip tighter as he answers, "God no, I want this. I want you. I just..." Art can feel the words catch in his throat, but then the question slips out, "Do you love me? I just... I don't want this to be just a causal thing, you know? I finally have you, and I don't want to lose you again." He waits for you to answer, the words hanging in the air. Your breath hitches in his ears.

The anxiety coursing through your veins deflates at his response, and you laugh quietly. "Are you dense? Of course. I've loved you since we were sixteen."

And that is what he's been waiting for. Art can feel a smile spread across his lips, his heart swelling as he pulls you in for a kiss. It's not a kiss filled with the same desire as before. It's filled with love and joy, full of passion and promise.

His hand moves to your back, gently caressing your back, before he flips the two of you so that he's leaning over you, his body still pressed against yours.

His mouth moves down to your neck, pressing wet kisses along your skin, while his hands slide up your sides to tease the waistband of your jeans. He can feel your fingers burying themselves in his hair, your back arching just slightly.

Art can feel the neediness as your touch urges him closer and closer. You're tugging at his shirt, your breath coming out in short stutters. He feels your mouth trail down his neck and Art's hands fumble with your jeans, desperately working on the zipper and pushing them off.

As soon as your jeans are off, he presses his body against you again, his hips rocking into yours. A low moan slips out of Art's mouth as your bodies grind into each other, his mouth finding yours, hungry and hot.

Art can feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He's gripping your thigh, his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, feeling his need rise like a raising fire in his stomach.

You gasp out, fingers pushing at his shirt, desperate to see more. More of him. "Off- off. I wanna see you."

Your gasp makes his heart flutter and Art can't help but groan into your mouth as you say those words. "Yeah..." He mutters against your lips, his body hot and needy against yours.

Art lets go of you and lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, revealing his hard, toned abdomen and built chest. His eyes search your face, watching you take in sight of him and waiting for approval.

God, he's beautiful. Like a damn sculpture in a museum. You lean up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, taking a moment to gently tug on his nipple with your teeth. If that isn't a sign of your approval, then he doesn't know what is.

Art bites the inside of his lip to muffle his moan. The feeling of your teeth on him is like electricity on his skin and he can't help the whimper that slips out of his mouth. His own teeth graze the skin of your neck, sucking slightly.

He wants you, needs you. And you are making it painfully obvious that the feeling is mutual. He moans into your mouth as Art pushes you gently back into the mattress as he slides between your thighs.

And then his body is pressing against you again, and you're both back to grinding against each other, the friction making you both moan. It's hot and sweat-inducing, passionate and fast. Art's hands are reaching for your bra and tugging it off, needing to feel your skin on his.

The minute the bra hits the floor, he's touching you again, his hands trailing down from your chest to your hips. His mouth finds yours again, your kiss a needy, hard, hungry mess of tongue and teeth.

Art is painfully hard, desperate for you. His hips are rocking, his breath coming hot and needy as you grind together. The pleasure is starting to build, and he can feel your own neediness growing.

He's got to be inside you. Every part of his body is screaming with that need, but he's so desperately trying to hold back. It's not just Art, though. You're needy, as well, your moans and whines telling him exactly what you want.

Art's hand slides down your body, and pauses just above the band of your panties, looking at you in a silent question of consent. When you nod, his hand slip into your underwear, his fingers touching your wetness. He can feel you gasp against his mouth, and Art's fingers rub teasing circles against your cunt. "You're so beautiful." He whispers against your mouth, desperate and needy, "And you're all mine." He's never sounded so possessive before and it shocks him.

But you can't get enough of it. After years of longing, years of pining, he's finally looking at you. He loves you. You moan in his ear, hips canting into his touch.

And then Art's fingers are slipping inside you, pumping slowly as you kiss and press into each other. The way you moan, the way your body reacts, makes Art moan with you, unable to keep himself quiet. He's drowning in your scent and your skin, everything in this room is you.

One of your arms wraps around his neck, as you gasp, moan, and pant into his ear. You're squeezing around his fingers, as his name falls from your lips like a vow. "Oh, oh, God- Art- fuck, don't stop-"

Art's fingers are pumping harder and faster, driven by the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Your moans fill his ears, the sounds and the way you're saying your name makes his neediness all the more desperate. He's desperate to make you cum, to see you come undone because of him.

It isn't long before you feel that familiar coil building in your stomach. "I'm gon- fuck-" You're so close, he can feel it.

He moans into your mouth, shifting down as his fingers work harder, his thumb finding your cunt. "Yeah?" He whispers, his mouth trailing down your neck. "You gonna come for me, baby?"

You gasp out hoarsely, muscles tightening. "Yes! Fuck, mhm-" Your eyes threaten to roll back back, as your jaw goes slack at your upcoming orgasm.

Art can feel you trembling against him, your body shaking as his hands work. This is the effect he has in you and it's driving him crazy. He's panting with his own neediness, but watching and hearing you is what's doing him in. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispers, feeling you clench around his fingers.

"I'm-" You cut yourself off as Art's fingers hit just the right spot. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you're gasping out into his shoulder, mostly incoherent swears as your muscles clench and your orgasm washes over you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- so good, so good-" The sight of you is something he never wants to forget. Eyes fluttering, mouth agape, your moans rising in pitch.

Art can feel a groan escape as he watches you orgasm, his fingers still working to bring you over the edge. You're a perfect picture of ecstasy, flushed pink and trembling against him. "God, you're gorgeous." He moans out, feeling your thighs tremble.

A moment later, he's pulling his hands away from your body, his own neediness growing more desperate. He kisses you, deep and hard, before murmuring in her ear. "Turn over for me, sweetheart."

You're a little shaky as you let him shift and roll you over on your stomach, but you're all too willing. Art's hands are sliding up your soft thighs, his touch gentle with so much love. He's pressed against you again, his mouth leaving kisses up your spine, before he's pulling a cushion under your hips.

His teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulder as he grinds against you again, moaning into your shoulder; the friction and neediness is driving him insane. "I need you." He whispers, his voice thick with need.

You can feel him pressing against you, his desperate need all too apparent. You moan into the pillow in response, pushing back slightly against him. You whine softly as his teeth bite your shoulder, a low shudder running through your body. "Then take me." You moan, arching your back to press firmly against him.

You're driving him absolutely mad. Art's hands grip your hips, fingers pressing into the delicate skin before pulling you up against him. He's panting in your ear, "Yeah? You want me, baby? Tell me his much you need me." His own neediness is making him desperate.

Your hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping into his ear. "Please, please, Art- need you to fill me up- need you so bad-"

Art's brain doesn't have time to register your words because he's moaning against your skin and rocking needily against you. His teeth bite your shoulder again as he pants out, desperate, "Yeah, honey, anything- anything you want- I'm yours." He whispers, almost incoherent in his desire for you.

His head dips down to your ear, panting into it and shifting slightly. "Do I need a condom, sweetheart?" He moans, his voice huskier than before. His hands are running down your sides again, the touch almost like a soothing caress before they settle on your waist.

You gasp out, hips still rolling back against his, desperate for friction. "No- I'm on birth control-"

Art nearly sags in relief. He would've used a condom if he needed to, but the thought of going raw inside you makes him to absolutely feral.

"God, you're perfect." He moans, one of his hands trailing back down to your hips and gripping them tightly. He's still moaning needily, your words only driving him further towards the edge. His forehead presses to the back of your neck, his breath hit and needy on your skin. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart."

When he finally slides into you, his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're so warm, so soft, so perfect. And the way you're gripping into his hair as he enters you is so goddamn good. You're tugging on locks of his blonde hair, as his body is draped over your back, skin to skin, and it takes effort not to cum then and there.

Art is panting into your neck, his body draped over yours like a living blanket. Your body is perfect under his, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, as he pants out, "You feel so good, sweetheart. God- can you-" His words are cut off as he bites the nape of your neck, and he's moaning, needy and incoherent.

He's pressed fully into you, surrounded by heat and pleasure. It's driving him crazy, but then you're pulling his hair and he's moaning against your skin, shuddering slightly. You're perfect, all of you, and Art's lost in you.

One of your hands stays tangled in his hair, and the other is curled tightly into the sheets as he thrusts into you, your body rocking forward with each one. Your breasts are bouncing slightly as he fucks you, and you're gasping and moaning pleas of his name, incoherent swears, and begging him not to stop.

And Art is thrusting into you, moaning and panting like a wild animal. His hands are gripping your hips, his own breaths coming out hot and needy against your shoulder. His own moans are spilling out, broken up by his words. "God, baby- you feel so good- so perfect-" He's practically whimpering with need, his face buried in your shoulder. "Want you so bad- honey- God-"

You're driving him insane with your gasps and moans, and Art's words are losing syllables, become more incoherent and slurred with his thrusts. You're perfect, and he can feel a pressure building low in his stomach. He's shaking, the pleasure becoming too much as he gasps out, "Sweetheart, I'm close- gonna-"

He's close, the pressure growing, and he's babbling mindlessly now, his words broken up by moans and gasps. "God- gonna come- don't stop-" He's whimpering into your shoulder, his hand traveling down to your waist and holding you like a vice.

He's pulling you back as he thrusts forward into you, and the pressure and pleasure are too much. His fingers dig into your waist, and Art can feel himself fall over the edge. He's moaning, gasping out your name as his nails dig into your skin, his breath hit against your shoulder.

It's only a moment before he's reaching down to rub figure eights against your cunt, desperate to make you cum.

And he's barely coming down from his own climax, still shuddering and gasping, yet his hands are moving already. He's touching you, fingers rubbing circles against your cunt, desperate to bring you over the edge with him. "Come on, baby. Come on-" He's whining, breath hot against your skin, as he continues his efforts, desperate for your peak.

You're close, he can feel it. You're trembling under his touch and Art's fingers are working faster and faster, begging you, "Please- please- come on- please-" And then you're arching your back against him, shuddering and gasping as you cum under his touch.

Art's eyes roll back into his skull as you come under his fingers and on his cock, a desperate whine slipping out of his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful your orgasms are. You're ethereal. "God- sweetheart-" He's moaning, pulling you closer, desperate to keep touching you and feel you shaking against him.

He's panting, his forehead pressing to the nape of your neck. His head us spinning from the onslaught of pleasure, his body trembling slightly. He's panting and shivering and still buried deep in you, and all he can think about is still you. Your skin, your scent, your body. His brain can't catch up.

It takes a few minutes before he's come down enough to pull away from you, slipping out of you slowly yet reluctantly. He's still whimpering in your ear, kissing your shoulder reverently. There's a gentle smile pulling at his lips as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer, wanting to feel more skin to skin contact.

Everything else slips away as his body is pressed against yours, legs tangled and skin on skin. Art's body is still buzzing from his orgasm, but right now, you're his one and only focus. He's whispering in your ear, mindless praise and sweet words he wouldn't dare say to anyone else. "God, baby- you're perfect. You're everything- I could drown in you and die happy."

You giggle softly, basking in the afterglow. After so long, you're here, with him. And he loves you. By God, does he love you. He reaches out to tuck a sweat soaked piece of hair behind your ear, pausing to gently run his thumb over your cheekbone. "I love you."

You can't help the exhausted grin that creeps onto your face when you hear that. "I love you, too."

He contains to murmur gentle words and praises, although his words are broken up by soft kisses to your shoulder. It's been years since he's felt this kind of pleasure. Years since he felt so content, so at home. Art hadn't realized how much he'd missed it- missed you. Right now, his only desire is to hold onto you, keep you as close as possible, and never let you go again.

Not that you'd even dream of leaving him again.

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m-ayo-o · 1 month ago

Text

soft sukuna !!! <3 nsfw; abstaining from sex until he realises his baby has a little praise kink!!

"sukuna.. i can't.."

you tell him with a small pout on your lips.

after last time you thought he might be more careful, maybe showing you a little mercy. but no.

your boyfriend wants to fuck, and it seems that he won't be giving up on that idea anytime soon.

"why not?" he grunts his reply, nipping at your earlobe with his body pressed against yours.

your cheeks burn with the feeling of his voice in your ear.

but you squeeze his leg and push on him, creating a small gap between your bodies.

"told you.. already.."

your eyes focus everywhere but his, while his explore your entire body as you squirm beneath him.

"mmh" he vocalises that he doesn't care about what you just said, bringing his hand under your chin to tilt your face up.

"tell me again"

your eyes dart around, then are forced into contact with his.

he gives you a deep, hard stare. maroon irises never leaving yours.

his thumb starts to tug at your bottom lip with impatience.

however much you know he's doing this to humiliate you, or for his own gratification, you don't want him to lose his patience.

"too.." your eyes dip away from his one more time. he gives your chin an encouraging squeeze, a hint of a smirk showing on his lips.

"too big.."

you admit it. again.

that you're abstaining from sex because he hurt you so bad last time that you're scared to do it.

you've been resisting for a whole week!

and damn, it's getting difficult to deny his advances now it's been that long. with him in close proximity, every day, teasing you.

he knows you want it.

but he also knows that it will hurt you.

so he's been working on wearing you down until you start to enjoy the stinging sensation of a cock that's just too big for your tight little hole.

he's going to get you there eventually.

he knows you already enjoy mild pain...

spanking, love bites, grabbing, choking.

but he never knew it would end up like this.

"i'll go easy on you.." he promises, lips moving closer to yours.

you try to back up but your head is still caught in his grasp.

"uh uh. not today sweetheart"

he's let you get away from him a few times this week; slipping through his fingers with a lie in the form of an excuse.

"you don't need to make excuses with me"

his eyes can pick apart your lies in any case. you know there's no point.

"i want to make you feel good"

your lip is between your teeth, eyes wide, your brain scrambling to consider what you're being offered right now.

he's bending over backwards to ensure you get a good fuck.

can you trust him?

"nnghh- su-sukuna-"

you lie back on the bed with his cock nudging at your sweet entrance.

that's where he wants to be.

he's got tunnel vision now.

after he gave you one orgasm with his fingers, to loosen you up, he couldn't wait any longer.

the way your pussy gripped over his fingers made him seethe with anger that his cock wasn't deep inside you, coated with your slick.

"ughh-" he sighs out, black ink hooking over his heaving chest.

he's getting so impatient now and you really need him to calm down or he's going to hurt you again.

this is how it always happens.

a kind of aggression takes over his body when he gets like this.

angry that your pussy won't let him in.

angry that he can give you pleasure with his fingers.

with his mouth.

but oh no, that's not what he wants.

he wants you cumming on his cock.

and that's what he's going to get.

regaining his composure, his eyes focus on your body again.

crimson meets pretty pink, the shade of your flushed pussy lips.

and he stares intently, smoothing his hands over your tummy.

"calm down, sweetheart"

he hums, sounding almost caring.

"i need you to relax for me, ok?"

you nod and place a hand around one of his wrists.

"please.. can i hold your hand?" you ask, batting your lashes.

ugh. this lovey dovey shit makes his blood boil.

but for you?

"sure, princess"

his fingers lace with yours, palms together, pressed to the pillow.

he takes a few deep breaths, encouraging you to do the same, as your body eases up and starts to relax, just like he asked.

"good girl" he coos, squeezing your hand gently.

he feels your pussy flutter gently against his tip, that's pressed hard and leaking on your wet body.

without realising what he's doing, only understanding that you like this- the way he's talking to you right now- he suddenly learns that you need him to reassure you.

you want him to be soft and gentle with you.

so that's what he's going to give you.

"that's it, baby," his voice is so calm and soothing, you listen to every word with your eyes glistening.

"you're doing so well, i just need you to open up for me, okay?"

the sinister, curling rasp is almost lost from his voice, being replaced by a tone so unfamiliar you question that this is really your man above you right now.

"s- sukuna?"

"uh huh?" he looks up from your pussy, where your bodies are connecting with strings of your wetness, to your pretty face.

oh god, your gorgeous face.

and for once, you don't look scared of him.

you're smiling at him; you look excited.

fuck that's got him going more than he'd like to admit.

"thank you.." your eyes sparkle with that pretty smile and he swears he can't help that feeling deep in his chest.

he supresses an eye roll and nudges his forehead against yours.

you know you better watch it with the romantic stuff or he might change his mind.

but for now, he's got you. and you've got him.

he presses on your thigh, opening your legs wider, and he starts moving his hips.

the smooth, thick tip of his cock glides into you.

"fuck-" he sighs over your lips, feeling as shocked as you.

that shouldn't have been so easy.

but it was.

"well done, baby.." he coos, rewarding you with a tender kiss.

"think you can take a little more for me?"

a little? sure.

"uh huh," you nod, eager to please this kind, sweet side of your man.

"good.." the tone of his voice makes you melt into the cushions that he placed under you, for your comfort.

your body feels so open to him right now, he pushes a little further.

hips sliding smoothly closer.

"nghh- ah-" the noises come out of your throat without thinking, your free hand landing on the back of his head where the dark hair of his undercut meets his neck.

"good?" he pushes you to answer, his smirk growing wider.

and you can't lie to him, it feels amazing.

"y-yes.."

he can feel your hand squeezing on his and he knows you're ready for more.

a few more inches.

"thaat's it, baby" he eases it in, your legs opening wider and hooking around his back.

god he thought he understood what you liked so well?

hot, passionate, rough sex.

yeah, it's great. it's fun.

but every now and then even the kinkiest girls need a break.

"nearly all the way, sweetheart" his voice finds your ears again when you're feeling so close to bliss already.

he peers down between your bodies, getting hot and messy, his abs rubbing against your soft, plushy stomach, and he realises how close you are to taking him whole.

the sight of that makes his cock swell and throb, sending another wave of pure ecstasy through you.

"easy, easy baby--"

he draws in a sharp breath and you can see him struggling, teeth sinking into his lower lip.

"can feel you squeezing me... tight.." he moans.

"gonna.. go all the way in now, ok?"

you nod and he leans down over you, pressing his lips to your neck with his arms caging you in. your hands find his shoulders, his back, his hair, anything to grab onto.

"uhh- baby.."

he chokes out, feeling the warmth of your pussy over his whole cock.

"took all of me.. fuck.."

his hips start moving slowly, in tandem with the strings of disbelieving sighs that flow out of his mouth.

"you're not hurting, huh?"

he checks, pulling himself all the way out before sinking right back in again when you shake your head.

he sees your eyes roll back, your hand clasping over your mouth to suppress a loud whimper.

"d-doesn't hurt- at all--" you manage to get out between your heavy, pleasured breaths as he eases himself in and out of you.

"good," he looks down at your expression- seeing his girl like this makes his heart swell. he needs to tell you.

"good girl"

that will have to do for now.

feeling your whole body reaction to his praise is good enough.

next time maybe he'll surprise you with a few more words...

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #female reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #sukuna x you

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sigilcatt · 4 months ago

Note

your recent seb fic was so cute!! could i request some general sebastian dating headcanons :3?

☆ Sebastian dating hcs ☆

• The fact that you managed to get him as a boyfriend is a win in itself.

• I mean, at first you figured Sebastian hated you, considering the way he would constantly taunt you for your errors, blaming any failure on your incompetence followed by a snarky remark.

"I'm sure the door with breathing behind it is completely safe to open...Urbanshade must be very lucky they have you."

• But despite this, one thing lead to another aaaand now you're dating a 10ft sea monster! Lucky you!

• How did he even fall for you? His guess is as good as yours.

• He lets you stay in his shop as long as you'd like. Tired? Use his tail as a pillow and he'll gently wrap it around you, as if trying to shield you from the creatures outside.

• sometimes you don't even realize you've fallen asleep on him until you wake up to him glossing over a file before smiling down at you. "Sleep well?"

• He'll listen to you rant about whatevers on your mind, a few "Mhm"s and "Really now?"s being his only responses. It's not that he isn't listening, he just finds your rambling endearing and prefers to watch your face practically glow when talking about your interests.

• Petnames aren't too special- He'll randomly throw a "Hun" or "Sweetheart" your way when conversing. I dunno, he just seems like the type to prefer those.

• Prepare to be picked up and placed on his shoulder at least once when around him. He hardly ever gets to be eye-level with you due to the significant height difference, so randomly snatching you up without warning is his best way of doing so.

• He tries to be as gentle as possible, knowing his claws could easily hurt you. Sometimes he'll run a single claw softly down your back. Or maybe he'll use it as a gentle hook to pull you close to him.

• Don't expect the constant teasing and banter to end so soon-in fact, now that you're dating, it seems to have only intensified. But thats a mutual thing between the two of you.

"Give me that flashlight, I need it."

"Ask nicely, then maybe I will."

"Fuck you."

• Blind him with that flashlight of yours if he gets on your nerves, that usually shuts him up.

• But he does secretly get concerned when you leave the shop. He doesn't enjoy the lingering possibility that you could get hurt.

• He might even use a few excuses to get you to stay longer.

"You don't have to work yourself so hard, y'know."

"That crystal isn't going anywhere, why are you rushing?"

"Take your time, hun."

• If you do return to him looking insanely beat up and in desperate need of a medkit, he'll scold you out of concern.

• He can be a huge flirt, loving the reactions he can fish (ha, fish get it?? I'll shut up now.) out of you.

• More about that height difference, since I love that way too much:

• Sometimes you'll find that one particular item you need just out of reach so that you have to ask Sebastian for help.

• It's possible to get him a little flustered, too! Call him pretty/handsome/whatever, that'll do it.

"Yeah, yeah, you're cute. Quit looking at me like that."

• Overall perfect partner.

I'm sooo normal about him. Hahahah lollll *twirls hair* I'm so normal about this guy

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #roblox x reader #x reader #sebastian solace x you

2K notes · View notes

literalgrill · 11 months ago

Text

Do NOT Support Hard Drive On Patreon

You might see friends today suggesting you support Hard Drive on Patreon today. You know, the funny video games version of The Onion? As a journalist, I will firmly tell you DO NOT GIVE THEM A DIME.

The CEO has pushed out all former staff that have built the site up to its current greatness and has been pushing the use of AI. The staff begged to have a Patreon before basically all being pushed out, but the idea was refused until now, when it will only line the pockets of a single person instead of hard working writers.

I know they might have provided laughs before, but Hard Drive is a shell of what it was once. Let it die and support the people who actually made those moments of joy possible. Don't believe me? Check out what former employees are saying below:

Kevin Podas: Okay you know what, I would feel bad saying nothing about this, so here goes:🚨SAVE YOUR MONEY🚨

We passionately advocated for a Patreon at Hard Drive & were aggressively shot down. The talent & people who built the site were pushed out. To see this now is beyond upsetting. For the past few years or so I put a lot of myself into this website. I pitched a ton of jokes, got over 120 articles published, & met a lot of great people. I'm sure if you've been following me for some time you could easily see this.

However, there is a lot of misinformation. I was eventually promoted to Managing Editor of the site & was ecstatic. Grateful for the opportunity. Felt like all of my hard work in the comedy mines was finally paying off. But things took a turn for the worst, & each day there were new surprises that affected our livelihoods. These were all very avoidable surprises, mind you.

A patreon was going to be our hail mary, but alas, for some reason, the power that be did not want it. Causing us to leave a dream job behind. "At least we did all we could," we consoled ourselves afterwards. I put a lot of myself into this project. I pitched all sorts of ideas that could have helped-- we all did. Merch collaborations, Patreon-integrated YouTube content, so much more. And most of them were shot down out of sheer stubbornness and nothing more. To see lie after lie spread, and multiple big publications and YouTubers that I am a fan of promote this Patreon under these pretenses is incredibly upsetting. There are so many receipts.

Please share this and consider pulling out if you've already put money into this. On Hard Drive using AI, also from Kevin Podas: I can't personally confirm that part aside from some of the recent header images for articles on both Hard Drive and Hard Times are being made with AI. As far as writing, it's been mentioned in the past, but I personally do not know. Maybe others do, maybe not. MORE From Kevin Podas suggesting the owner denying a Patreon being set up earlier cost an artist a job that was replaced by AI: We had a social media person who was awesome! He made the images until this AI implementation. He had to leave because ad revenue was low and a Patreon was aggressively refused.

Luca Fisher: at the risk of burning some bridges, i have to back up kevin here. i've only been part-time, in-and-out of hard drive since i got in last year, but i can corroborate that management doubled and tripled down about not hosting a patreon/crowdfunding and that many other suggestions and ideas, including mine (and ones much smarter than mine!), were shot down in really long, apocalyptic threads of everyone left on deck desperately trying to come up with ways to keep the lights on. managerially it has been messy and sad

i've written for multiple publications that have long since died, ones that were in the process of dying, and ones that, in this case, are soon to be put in the ground. it is sad and sucks every time. i don't know what could have been done differently, but i do know that a lot of great writers and content creators were left shorthanded and unhappy by the way things have gone. and it is sort of puzzling to see the sudden championing of patreon after we were all told plenty of times that it couldn't work and we should move on also, just to add my own personal two cents here, i was really disappointed by the shuttering of many different article sections on the site over the past 6-8 months. i understand cutting corners in a deficit, and i know it had to be done. that said…

all in all, i'm really sad to see this all happen. i don't fault anyone, if only because i don't really know enough about how this all can happen to make sense of it. games journalism is in a sad, sorry state, and will likely no longer be a thing in the next decade

VideoSealMan: I'm gonna say this because I think I deserve to. For months, MONTHS on end I was bugging Hard Drive management about a Patreon. Often I got ignored for a week+, but when I actually got a response I was encouraged to - of all things, write up a Google Doc pitching the concept I did it regardless. I wasn't the only one trying to sway management on a Patreon, but so fiercely was I fighting for it that last night, I was accused of making this comment directly by the CEO! With no evidence whatsoever! After I'd been gone for over a month.

I vouched so hard for Patreon because I wanted all the writers and creatives working with Hard Drive including myself to get paid better. When I actually got a response, the idea was often shut down. Eventually due to the state of my company, my pay was cut for a second time I confronted management alongside a couple other important figureheads at the org and told them that if we couldn't do a Patreon - I could no longer financially justify staying there. The answer was still no, so I left. Baffled at the decision, but whatever.

It is unendingly frustrating to know that myself and many other people who put their soul into Hard Drive LEFT because of management's absolute refusal to compromise on a Patreon, to then see them launch one anyway a month later and get over 1000 people pledging money. I'm seeing a lot of things float around about greed and people being fired. No one was fired. Everyone who left, left because they were sick of management's decision-making. And honestly, management is a lot of things but I would not call them greedy. (From my experience.) They did genuinely make an effort to pay people as much as possible. I found the pay very fair for a while. I am not disputing that I was paid what I was owed - yet management frequently feels the need to remind critics of that. Lmao, yes. I was paid what I was owed. No one is disputing payment. You did the bare minimum a business owner should do and paid everyone their due, very well done. I make no allegations of greed, cheating or foul play. I make allegations of poor management and incompetence that has fucked over other people.

Basically the only people left at Hard Drive have been there for about 2 months. They will reap the rewards of this successful Patreon I and so many others passionately fought for for so long. We will not see a dime.

I do not know the new people at Hard Drive, But I feel bad for them. They were haphazardly thrust into Hard Drive's workplace with little to no explanation on how anything works, or given any context on the state of the place. Even now managements feeds them half-truths and misinformation about other people's grievances. I am broke and have been for a while. I had to move out of my flat in Reading and back with my family because of how little money I was making. This has basically doomed my flatmate to moving back in with abusive parents, which is something I feel guilty about every day. If we had gone with the Patreon I worked myself hoarse over back then, this could have been avoided. Some of my other good pals could also not have been fucked over.

It was a bad judgment call, but it's not a crime. It's just management getting it wrong.

So should you give to the Hard Drive Patreon? I don't know! I don't think any of the new people working there to patch up the holes left by the recent mass exodus have any bad intentions. Maybe they deserve it! But it is not the same site you knew a year ago, or even a month ago. Myself and many people who were there far longer than me and did far more for it than I did are all gone now because we could not deal with management's terrible decision-making and dogass communication any longer. That's what you should know, imo

I had an agreement in place with management that I would receive the next 8 months of revenue from the Hard Drive YT channel from my leaving in November. This was a deal I appreciated, and thought was very fair on management's behalf. So far, the deal has been honoured for 2 months. However as of last night I was removed from the Hard Drive Slack without warning, and as an editor for the YouTube channel. This means I no longer have any way of verifying how much I am owed, I just have to take their word for it. I'm sure management will make their own statements full of half-truths and weird language on the many cases being brought against them - I'd take everything they say with a pinch of salt if some of the screenshots I've seen of them talking about me are any indication lol

To management; I do not want to talk to you. I want you to DM me a screenshot of how much I'm owed every month and then send me the money per our agreement until June, then we can go our separate ways. Do that and admit to your mistakes, and maybe you can recover your reputation! That's it from me, lol. If they pull out of the deal and fuck me over I'll have more to say, but most of what I know is other people's stories of incompetence and poor decision-making, lol. I genuinely get no pleasure out of doing this; I do not think management is evil - I just think they're really bad at what they do and it's cost other, more talented people, lol. You should believe the writers imo

One last thing I wanna say btw, management did often stress that no one should try to make Hard Drive a full time thing. They were transparent about that, and that is fair. I was working on it because at a few points, I was lead to believe we actually were doing a Patreon. Many other ppl have similar stories of being strung along by management changing their minds and stop-starting shit every 2 weeks. We all made the fatal mistake of overestimating our manager - who would tell you one thing one day and something totally opposite the next week lol

Hunter R. Thompson:

I'm not your dad, but speaking as a Hard Drive writer, I don't know that funding Hard Drive on Patreon is worth it

The driving talent on the back end—behind the kickass site I joined in 2019—have peaced out over the years as the site's been (in our view) increasingly mismanaged. Mismanagement like, not setting up crowdfunding before the ship sank and all its best crew failed; or publishing a screenshot of Andy Ngo pedojacketing a trans writer, complete with her deadname; or a disgruntled ex-writer getting falsely accused of shit-talk, by actual staff. I'm grateful for the writing I've gotten to produce for HD (and will forever be kicking myself for not writing even more, in the four years I've had to do it!! i'm a dumbass!!!) but it is very much no longer the site I signed up for.

I don't want to resign as a contributor altogether, because I'm open to the idea of the site recovering and bad practices being retired as finances level out-- it would just be dishonest for potential backers to not be Aware Of The Circumstances, I think.

Jeremy Kaplowitz: i truly don't want to start shit, but feel compelled to say: i want to see Hard Drive succeed w/o resorting to throwing former writers & editors, myself included, under the bus. surely there's a way to save the site without building it over the corpses of those who left. my $0.02 i don't blame anyone who wants to sign up for the HD patreon and i support the website, but that includes those who worked on it for years, have complaints, and don't deserve to be treated like bitter assholes like this kind of stuff is just objectively true, meanwhile there's these new writers who joined the site after i left (meaning, in the last ~3 months) claiming people are liars. decide for yourself if you care, but this is what happened! [Quotes this Tweet]

Seth Finkelstein: Writing for Hard Drive has been a privilege the past few years, and it makes me so angry to see people I looked up to get jerked around behind the scenes. The amount of grenades the editors jumped on our behalf is immense, and I don't think the way they're being treated is right.

Other Bits On AI: We do know for sure however that AI art has been used by the site. Its fucking owner confirms it here:https://twitter.com/MattSaincome/status/1743040541603123622. Seems the owner pushed AI written articles as well! TayFabe: My vaguetweet is making the rounds & these made me apoplectic. - owner regularly lobbied using ai. Once he tested it & said ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. - ai images were used on the site & socials w/o consulting the team or disclosing it publicly I found the ai bit relevant to include bc 1) it illuminates a stark change in HD's current direction & leadership, 2) ai images have previously been used on the site and (since deleted) ig posts, 3) ai content fucking sucks, and repeatedly pushing to use it is a telling quality The "handful of writers who chose to leave" includes 2 editors-in-chief (both cofounders who wrote a combined total of >1,000 articles & defined the voice of HD), & at least 3 other editors. These guys put in WORK since 2017, so cool to be corrected by ppl who joined in Nov 2023 [Link to mentioned vague tweet from post.] More from TayFabe: owner continuously lobbied for using ai in every possible way. No one else wanted to do it, but he kept on, saying ai was writing better satire than 25% of the HT/HD writers. Also, ai images were used on the site & socials without public disclosure or consulting the team.

The owner has responded now multiple times in a private discord... Thank you for people sharing screenshots! First Screenshot:

Kevin's Response: He banned me from the server for speaking out, so no, I didn't see it. And he gave no indication of a timeline, it was just "we'll do one when *I* say so" and gave every inclination he was totally against it. It bred an environment that pushed our hands to have to leave. Screenshot Round Two:

Kevin's Response: "Starting one in 3 months" is an absolute lie. He denied it, I have screenshots and others who can confirm. No timeline was given. Just "this is what it is now" and like, I couldn't live off of that. I wanted to do more but he was allergic to good ideas from others around him.

Matt, owner of Hard Drive, responds publicly on Twitter.

Matt: Kevin, the patreon launch was delayed because I didn't think it would work. Everyone is happy that it did work. Everyone who left the site because we didn't have money to pay for creative content which didn't revenue is welcome to return home. But unclear why the hostility.

Hard Drive paid out literally every dollar it had, then a bunch more, to creative people who worked on the site. When we ran out of money, we couldn't pay anymore. We did our best.

Kevin: Right, and my point of this thread was that it was completely and totally avoidable. This is reasonable to be upset about. How could I have been any more clear?

Matt: If we knew with 100% certainly that the community would have supported us via patreon, we would have done that. We didn't know. We had tried 4 years ago and got no support. We were wrong this time. We did our best to figure it out. We paid all the money we could.

Kevin: So you knew with 100% certainty this time? Or you took a leap of faith?

Matt: It was a last gasp panic effort after ad rates got cut in half on january 1st due to seasonal spending changes. We didn't know it would work. We were embarrassed to ask for support. We wanted to figure it out.

Kevin: Every site has a Patreon. Every YouTuber, comedy group, etc. But you insisted that nobody cared about Hard Drive. Which is wildly untrue. I know you see that now, but again, I think you can see why I and many others are pretty upset. A last ditch panic effort was long overdue. A couple more things from Matt:

It was about the size of the hole we needed plugged budget wise, the time I had left of personal resources, and the past data I had about us trying a patreon (which turned out to be a bad indicator). I didn't think the Patreon would help us fast enough. I made a bad estimation

aka "if we make $1000 more dollars a month via patreon, which would be 10x what we got last time, we will not solve any of our problems. If instead we try to plow down path B, we might make it out in time." That was the thinking. I chose the wrong path, but didn't mean to Kevin also retweeted this comment from the user Matt was responding to: So you're saying that you're bad at running the business, didn't listen to any of your employees until after they were forced to leave their jobs, and now you're going to get more of the money from the Patreon that was their idea in the first place? Matt's Response: Respectfully, I made a mistake delaying the patreon decision. But keeping a comedy site alive for 9 years is not easy, there are lots of potential ideas, and think overall we've done a good and honorable job. Will leave this thread in peace now to allow people their space.

Sorry for linking to Elon's hellsite (derogatory), but sources need links so...

#video games #patreon #hard drive #ai critical

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