#( tw: drugs )

[ktkat99]

Tim, falling asleep at the dinner table

Jason- Finally. I was wondering when those sedatives would kick in

Dick- Wait, you sedated Tim??

Jason- The kid hasn't slept in like four days. What did you expect me to do, ask nice?

Dick- I sedated him, too.

Damian- And me

Steph- Same. He needed sleep

Dick, panicking- Alright, anyone who slipped Tim something today raise your hand

Everyone raises their hand

Dick-...

Dick-... Well, fuck

Dick-... Tim, put your hand down

[bakedbeanz]

I call it mind eraser, no chaser at all (On permanent leave of everything) Law abiding, dick riding, fun police, leave us alone (Dulling the edge of a razor blade) What does it mean when the knife and the hand are your own?

[jakface]

of the people for the people!

[rie-092]

FATHER, CAN I DIE?

✶﹒ platonic yandere! manhwa fathers x suicidal/overworked daughter! reader

summary : maybe they should just lock you in your room to make sure that you won't do something dangerous.

a.n : i plan to make this a series, what do you think?

abel heilon

let's start with the most chill platonic yandere! out of the guys that i will feature in this post! abel heilon, the duke of the north with a simple mindset of 'if you mess with me then i'll mess with ya' we all know how protective he is with fiona and siegren. but just imagine, what if— just what if he has an illegitimate child who's related to him by blood that he hid from the public's eyes.

anyways, the first time he met you. he became sure of one thing. damn, you were indeed his child. with that silver hair, blue eyes and personality of yours— you were indeed his child. he can't deny that because you looked like a kid version of him. well, it's not like he is denying it tho— but what the fuck is wrong with your brain anyways?!

he doesn't know if you were abused before he met you. but why in the hell are you so obsessed with suicide anyways?! why the fuck are you even throwing yourself in battles when you were a support mage?! for the fuck sake! stop! yes, you have above average amount of mana! but the hell?! you're not as strong as fiona nor siegren! stop it!

if it's not for siegren then he wouldn't know the fact that you happily greeted the assassin that was sent by the imperial family. according to him, before siegren saved you from the assassin you even have the guts to propose to that damn assassin about committing suicide together since according to you, you have fallen in love with him— hearing that story, abel couldn't help but facepalm. (first name), you're thirteen! and that assassin is already thirty-six or worse, older!

maybe because of the stress of managing the north and keeping you safe from your suicide attempts. abel finally snapped.

look, abel likes watching you enjoying your freedom. but damn, if he doesn't do anything about this— he might end up burying you before you even reach the age of 18. he won't hurt you, he swears. that was the last thing that he will do to you. but that doesn't mean that he can't take preventive measures to make sure that you were safe.

platonic yandere! abel heilon was one of the chillest platonic yandere that existed. he will let you do anything that you want, he won't take away your freedom nor hurt you. he isn't also overbearing to the point that it was suffocating. but don't make him snap, because he can be the most suffocating and controlling parent existed.

now, on your sixteenth birthday— to celebrate it. you decided to jump onto the freezing river near the manor. you expected that you'll wake up inside your room— but no. when you opened your eyes, you were inside an unfamiliar room that has no windows. seeing that you can't use your magic, you were sure that there's a magic restricting device placed around here. what the hell is happening?

the door had opened, you looked at who it was and saw abel looking at you with a smug grin. you tried to ask him what is going on but instead of replying— abel only ruffled your hair saying that it will be only him and you from now on. and that was when you realized one thing— abel had taken your freedom away from you.

but abel didn't care. cry until you have no tears left, he doesn't care. the only thing that he cared about was keeping you alive. and this is the only thing that he know to achieve his goal. but don't worry, he will visit you everyday and give you books to make sure that you won't get bored. so, can you stop being a btch and appreciate his efforts?

he doesn't care if your eyes lost its usual enthusiasm and spark. he doesn't care if you stop eating at some point— because abel can shove the food inside your mouth to make sure that you stay alive.

oh, by the way— fiona was the one who made the room where you were staying now. she just wanted to make sure that you were safe! and the only place where you can be safe is the place where you can't use magic! so, forgive them, will ya?

“should i just cut off your arms? so that you won't be able to use your magic again?”

gallahan lombardy

okay, as far as you know— you are not really a suicidal type of person. but for your father, gallahan lombardy you are. because for gallahan, overworking is another way to try to kill yourself after all.

gallahan is a sweet person, i swear. he won't hurt you at all and isolating you? no, no, no, gallahan won't do that! but he still couldn't help but become paranoid when it came to you. you were way too focused on studying— maybe because of the pressure that you were getting from the other people.

your sleep only lasted for two or four hours, you always isolate yourself inside the library. and gallahan didn't like it at all— look, you need to take it easy and rest. the only time you leave the library was when gallahan and tia drag you outside to eat in a cafe or buy new clothes.

platonic yandere! gallahan loves to spoil you. you wanted to buy books? here you go. want to try home-cooked foods? sure, he'll cook it for you. do you want to go to the festival with tia? alright! as long as he will go with you two.

but then, a certain event made gallahan snap. it was a normal day and gallahan entered the library to drag you outside so that you could socialize with the family. but then, he saw you unconscious on the floor, buried in the books and your nose was bleeding. gallahan was panicking, he didn't know what to do. what if you don't wake up? what if something bad happens to you? or worse— what if you die? if it wasn't for shananet who saw her younger brother's panicked face and her niece's condition. then gallahan won't be able to calm down and call the family doctor.

and what is the doctor's diagnosis? you were overworked. and after hearing that, rulac lombardi, your grandfather along with your auntie and uncles saw how your father's face darkened while looking at you who was peacefully sleeping on the bed.

and then, after that incident. you couldn't help but become confused when gallahan didn't scold you— instead, when you woke up. you saw him smiling softly at you. he didn't even ask you to take it easy. he just lets you do what you want.

but what you found odd was your father started giving you foods and drinks everytime and after consuming those things. you started feeling tired and before you knew it, you always ends up asleep. and once you woken up, you were already on your room. with tia cuddling with you while your father was asleep while sitting on the chair next to your bed also asleep.

knowing how innocent your father was, you never suspect a thing. you just kept on eating and drinking the things that he was giving to you. and you never questioned why you always get tired after it. your father loves you so much, so he wouldn't do anything— right?

plot twist, gallahan actually puts drug on your food and drinks to make sure that you will take a rest and never overwork yourself again. but a year later, you started losing your sense of sight because of it. but gallahan and tia don't care when you have them? oh, just thinking about their sweet (first name) being dependent on them was enough to make them very happy.

“sorry, honey! this is just a precaution, okay?”

[kkolg]

me and my friends are doing a snapcube style dub of murder drones and this is the result (Pilot)

[machinecatgirl]

ELECTROCHEMISTRY

[clowncryptids]

Do u guys think I should submit this for my activism class

I think it is a master piece and the peak of my graphic design skill

[skyrim-forever]

THE FUCKING DWEMER???

[dcxdpdabbles]

Passion for Fashion Part 3

Danny nervously twirls his thumbs as Dan paces before him, mumbling insults to the Waynes under his breath. They were supposed to go third in the walkway line, as it was supposed to be in alphabetical order, but just as the computation was going to begin, a disaster struck.

Tim Drake-Wayne had been kidnapped. In broad daylight, as the teenage CO-CEO was getting out of his limo, a group of men broke through the crowd, swinging guns around and demanding everyone to get on the ground and give them their valuables.

Of course, there were security who attempted to gain control of the situation, but it seemed that three of their newest hires were traitors and in on the heist. A shoot-out was ensured.

Drake-Wayne had been taken in the chaos, and Bruce Wayne had passed out from worry. He and the rest of his kids were on their way to a hospital- a secret location to deter further kidnappings of the remaining Waynes- and the first runway of the competition was canceled.

Danny hadn't seen anything from the model changing room, but Dan had forgotten his make-up bag in the front entry and had gone back for it while Danny changed. He had been front and center when the whole thing went down.

"Who just lets themselves get taken like that!?" Dan huffs, practically spitting fire. According to the ghost, Tim Drake-Wayne's actions were an act, and the teenager had been able to get away from his kidnappers but didn't.

Dan found his nonaction insulting since it paused his fashion show.

"Um, look around you? Situation awareness." Danny tells him, gesturing to the cage they had been shoved into. While the people had been preoccupied with Tim Drake-Wayne's kidnapping, a second group of men had gone in through the backdoor and taken all the models.

Danny had thought it was the staff moving them until he noticed a few people crying as they were placed into vans. In his defense, most people aren't used to seeing someone armed like he is, so the gun-waving hadn't tipped him off.

Dan had joined him later when he followed the coordinator- another traitor- to the vans, and his counterpart had only gotten upset when they took his make-up bag.

"Please, this is just metal." Dan rolls his eyes, bending the bars and straightening them out again to prove his point. Danny doesn't mention the electric buzz the bars release, as neither is really affected by the shock. It's more of an annoying light show. "Sides, it's not like we're human. Not like them."

He tilts his chin to where other models sob in their cages below. They are all waiting for their new owners to pick them up. At least, that's what Danny was able to gather from the men's taunts. They were taken by human traffickers, who had buyers look at the competition lineup and pick which model they wanted before the actual kidnapping.

Danny and Dan were in such high demand they would be sold at an auction that would take place while the rest of their pals kept the Bats busy. Danny had no idea who the Bats were or why they would save them instead of the police.

"Tell the whole world why don't you?" Danny hisses, twirling his thumbs more " If they found out what we are we could be turned over to this world version of the Guys In White."

"Oh no, I'm shaking in my human boots." Dan rolls his eyes. He resumes his pacing. "If the Waynes had taken this seriously, we could have been seeing the results of the judge's panel already."

"Dan, this is a little more important than your fashion Obsession."

"Excuse you, my Obsession is a medical condition," Dan huffs, sliding down the cage bars, and for a brief second, his hair flickered to white before it settled back into black. A flash of pain crosses his face. "My core is killing me."

Danny winces. "Right, sorry, that was insensitive. How about I steal you some paper and pens so you can design a ball gown?"

"I like that."

Danny turns to the bars, bending them open and closing them behind him. He carefully makes his way across the giant shipping crates, to an office at the top right corner.

They are at the docks, hidden somewhere in a warehouse among many crates that will be shipped out, and Danny is honestly a little offended they have yet to be found. Sure, the kidnappers had driven through the sewers on a strangely built road that led them here, but surely someone would have noticed the apparent fact the van disappeared at a fake dead alley?

Weren't there cameras in almost every corner of the city? Dan had warned Danny about them while doing his Obsession-driven research, and both agreed not to Go Ghost while in public due to them.

Now, they could escape, but Danny wasn't kidding about the Guys in White or whatever their equivalent was here. He would rather know what level of competence they have before he makes any rash moves.

Danny also wants to see his fellow models' buyers, and he would like to have a word with them. His ghost Obsession may not be protection- much to the shock of many- but Danny has always had a moral compass that pointed to protecting others around him.

Dan knew and respected this about him, so his counterpart was willing to sit and wait for the buyers. He's just a little angsty since it disrupted his obsession.

Danny grimly peeks into the office window when he sees the coordinator talking on a phone. There doesn't seem to be anyone else around, so he carefully opens the door and creeps up behind the man.

"-If you ever want to see your son again," The man is saying, smirking. Danny can't see it due to the man facing away from him, but he can hear it in his voice.

On the desk is a laptop that repeats what he said only, the sound sounds robotic and unrecognizable. Is that a voice changer? "I suggest you ask Batman to find your boy before it's too late."

Batman? The man they were supposed to help save his humanity?

Danny knows it's a risk, but this is too much of a chance to pass up. He carefully picks up the office chair and brings it down hard on the disgusting man's head. The coordination lets out a chocked grunt of pain, but he's out like a light when he hits the ground. His phone flies across the floor, and a voice is heard speaking urgently.

Danny ties the man to the bolted-down desk using zip ties- the same ones they had used on him and the rest earlier that day, before picking up the phone.

"Hello? Is this Batman?" Danny asks, jumping slightly when the laptop repeats him in a creepy robotic voice. "Wait hold on, I think I can get rid of this voice thingy."

"...what?" A man asks over the phone, but Danny pays him no mind as he tries to click some boxes.

"Hello, testing one two three," Danny says, wincing when the voice changer makes him sound high and unnaturally squeaky. He sounds like he's trying to audition for Alvin and the Chipmunks. "Hello? Hello? Wait, I think I got it."

"Who are you? Where is Tim?" The man asks, and Danny almost rolls his eyes. He hates it when someone interrupts him while he's working with tech.

"Wait-there it is! Can you hear me alright? Do I sound normal?"

"....I can hear you."

"Awesome! Are you Batman, and if so, have you considered the importance of mental health activities? Like hugging your kids once a day? That really boosts your serotonin and dopamine levels." Danny asks, attempting to channel Jazz as much as he can. There is muffled sound across the phone line, like someone is attempting to smother a laugh.

"No, this is Bruce Wayne." Mr. Wayne says after a moment pause, "You have my son?"

"Oh," Danny tries not to sound as disappointed as he feels, but he may have failed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Wayne I don't think your son is here. I think they were using him to distract you and the police of the missing models."

There is a strange lake of sound on the other line before Mr. Wayne responds. "Can you tell me who I am speaking to?"

"Danny Fenton. I was one of the models that was taken." Danny says, then he realizes the cops must be listening in because that always happens in movies; he lowers his voice and tries to sound in shock. "I think we're in a warehouse? I'm not sure, but I was in a cage when I woke up. They said they're going to sell us. I escaped, but there were guards everywhere, so I tried hiding in the office and heard the man you were speaking to come in. I hit him with a chair."

"Mr.Fenton," A new man says suddenly, "I know this is a terrifying situation, and I-"

"Are you Batman?"

"....No, son, I'm Commissioner Gordon"

"Oh."

"Do you want to speak to Batman?"

"Yes."

"Can I ask why?"

"I need to tell him to hug his kids."

Danny waits a few seconds for a response, but he hears nothing, not even the wind. They must have muted themselves. He leans on the desk, mindful to give the kidnapper a solid kick to make sure he's still out, and glancing over to the window to make sure there aren't any guards coming his way.

"Mr. Fenton, did they give you anything strange?" Commissioner Gordon asks

Danny thinks for a moment before humming. "They gave all of us something in a needle. I don't know what it was, but it felt funny. My brother has been acting weird since he got it."

"Okay, you're doing good. " Commissioner Gordon sounds like he is frowning but the words cause something in Danny's core to pur."Okay, son, everything is going to be alright. I need you to do something for me. Every Gotham warehouse has a serial number; you can find it in the main office on the power box. Do you see the box?"

Danny glances around until he sees the small little green box. He hurries over to it, throwing the door open. "I found it."

"Good. Can you read me the number?"

Danny reads them off as quickly as he can. Once all ten digits are within the police's hands he asks again. "Do you know if Batman partakes in his kid's interests?"

"I can ask him for you."

"Would you? That would be great. It's important to let people know you care about them by showing an interest in what they are passionate about. My brother Dan really likes making clothes, and even though I don't think I can model, I do it for him, you know?"

"You're a good brother."

"Thank you.....I'm tired Mr. Gordon." Danny says suddenly eyelids becoming heavy. He slides down the wall a lot like Dan did before.

"I'm sorry to hear that but I need you to keep talking to me, Mr. Fenton."

"Batman should tell his kids he loves them. His love language may be an act of service, but Nightwings' is words of affirmation. Nightwing needs to be told he's loved."

"Mr. Fenton! Stay awake for me! Mr.Fenton!" Danny hears someone yelling, but his core is purring even more now, and the sound is luring him to sleep. Suddenly he thinks of his counterpart in the cage waiting for his paper and pen.

"I have to go. I promised Dan I would get him some stuff so he could design some clothes. Bye-Bye."

"No! Don't hang up-!"

Danny drops the cell phone after pressing the end call button and ignores it when it rings again. He hurries over to the desk, looking for paper, but finds the table lacking. Thankfully, an open suitcase has sheets that he borrowed and a few pens.

He takes them all and runs back over the crates to where Dan is. Once he arrives, he notices many models are no longer distressed. All of them are smiling with a dazed look, and a few are even giggling. He waves at a few as he hurries back to his cage.

Dan is there, muttering under his breath and twisting his fingers in the air as if he were drawing in the sky. Danny bends the bars and holds up his prize. "I got the stuff!"

"Thank the ancients! I was never going to finish Mr. Hot scales suit without it!" Dan cheers, turning one of the sheets over to a clean side. He throws his whole body on the ground, using the smooth surface to start his ball gown.

Danny watches him for a moment before his purring core is too much. Dan reaches out to grip his leg, enclosing it in his warm palm and that's all Danny needs before he's fast asleep.

Dan continues to draw for a few more minutes before he, too, is overcome with sleep. Neither notices Red Hood or Robin bursting into the warehouse, guns and swords blazing, just as the buyers arrive. They or any of the models are unaware of the smackdown that happens until everyone involved with the scheme is behind bars.

Robin finds their cage, stepping through the bent bars and pausing at the sheets of paper scattered across the slumbering teenagers. He flips one incredibly designed ballgown only to have his eyes widen at what's written down.

"Robin to Batman," he says, staring at the paper and pressing his communicator. "I have a complete list of everyone who was buying today and past buyers. We can dismantle an entire ring with this."

"Good work, Robin."

"It wasn't I who found it. It was the Fentons."

".....Are they hurt?"

"Drugged but otherwise unharmed."

"Good."

There is a pause before Nightwing speaks up "Tell me you love me B."

"No"

Danny Fenton's eyes briefly open to stare into a surprised Robin's eyes. "Tell him Batman his humanity is at risk. Says the Ghost King."

"They gave him the good shit," Spolior laughs, having heard Fenton through the coms.

Elsewhere, Tim Drake-Wayne stares at Killer Croc aka Waylon Jones who is replaying the video of Dan Fenton catcalling Waylon from his cage right after the fashion designer was dosed with high levels of morphine.

"Hey Papi, why don't you come up here and let me dress you up in the proper wrapping for a walking gift like you?"

"Hey...hey are you from the EverBurning tribe? Cause those are the hotest legs and tail I have ever seen!"

"Mr.Hot Scales, I promise Danny is the only ally of FarFrozen. I'm team EverBurning all the way! Kiss me!"

"What the actual fuck?" Tim asks, and Waylon nods.

"I have no idea, kid. The first time any of my merchandise flirts with me."

[konigsblog]

drug dealer könig who gives you free product in exchange for anal 🥺

TW: DRUG CONSUMPTION, DRUG USE, COERCION, DUB-CON, AFAB!READER.

drug dealer-könig will use coercion to get what he wants and fantasies about. he'll make a deal with you, one that sounds too appealing to not agree with... he purposely makes your jaw drop with the offer, contemplating whether you'll agree to the deal or not. yet, könig's convincing always has you agreeing, regardless whether you want it truly.

bending you over your kitchen countertop, your eyes locked onto the bag of drugs laying out of reach, too distracted by the feeling of his meaty, large cock stuffed deep inside of you. you cry weakly, pathetically sobbing out from the stretch, yet addicted and utterly infatuated with the fullness. your asshole squeezes ‘round him, panting and moaning out from pure bliss as he slams and grinds his large, muscular hips against your ass, dick weeping into your asshole. :(

“ja-ja... du weißt wirklich, wie du mich verrückt machen kannst, kleine taube.” he spits, chuckling lowly, almost intoxicated off of the sensation of your tight hole around his heavy, girthy cock. :3

TRANSLATION: “yes-yes... you really know how to drive me crazy, little dove.”

[elderwisp]

[ichore]

STUDY OF A SCANDAL | NEUVILLETTE

synopsis: a starving journalist, the iudex of fontaine and reader, the most talented soprano of teyvat all attend a ball at the opera epiclese where one scandal follows another as a storm does not allow anyone to leave.

tags, warnings: heavy drugs (aphrodisiac, ecstasy), involuntary drug consumption, neuvillette x afab!reader, reader is a talented singer, reader is secretly a water creature as old as Neuvi, MONSTER FUCKING, Neuvillette's takes reader in semi dragon form, journalist is a pos, cunnilingus, p -> v, unprotected, oh the consequences

wc: est 3.3k

It begins with a tear rolling down on the porcelain skin of the Iudex of Fontaine's full cheek.

As you stand tall all alone on the platform of the Opera Epiclese, not a shred of whisper or mumble leaves the people of the water nation - it's only your voice that vibrates in between their bodies, it crawls at the high walls and crimson drapes and threatens to never leave. You've sung these songs many times across all of Teyvat; you're considered an Honored Guest wherever you decided to set foot. But your heart belongs to Fontaine, and such is evident in the way your gaze lingers on its people ahead of you.

Then, as if it's supposed to be part of your show, as the last note of your last song bubbles in your throat, a clash of thunders shakes the building.

The Melusines are quick on their short legs to inform everyone to stay inside, and whereas there's no need to worry, it would be best if everyone waited in the Opera Epiclese until the storm ended. Curses and hisses rumble across the people meanwhile the Iudex of Fontaine leaves his seat and his noiseless steps carry him to his office. It's only you who notices how his shoulders rise and fall in the familiar motion of weeping, how his cloth napkin soaks in the tears that escape him despite his greatest effort to soothe himself. 

“If it's fine with everyone,” you begin with your voice exhausted and slightly croak from your show. “I have enough cakes and fruits to invite everyone for a spontaneous little ball to spend the time. I'm sure my colleagues would love to entertain you with their music, as well.”

The storm is almost like a gift to you: finally you don't have to worry about wasting all the precious food that people gift you. Usually you give the majority away for the poor, but because finding such families takes time, a good amount still spoils. Such kindness in your heart is the second reason Teyvat adores you, and that same tenderness makes you rush after the Iudex with your dress held a bit higher in your fists so you don't trip.

“Excuse me?” you hear a nervous male voice call out to you, and you reluctantly stop in your tracks to offer a smile to the journalist standing ahead of you. He's skinny, too skinny to be healthy, you think. His hair crown is already fading from the top of his head, the lilac bruise of exhaustion rests under his eyes, but you suppose that he cannot be more than thirty.

“I'm happy to give you an interview later. I'm rather busy with something right now, I hope you don't mind.” you say.

“No, not at all. I just wanted to give you this.” He pulls out a heart-shaped, crimson silk wrapped box from under his arm. Chocolate, more food, great. “I know what you're thinking, but this is the Iudex's favorite and the filling is the finest Valberry jam from Mondstadt. It's very hard to get a box of these nowadays.”

“Oh, my,” you fill your heart sink at the thought of the trouble this poor man went through just to please you, and the furrow of your brow lets him know that you're sold before you take away the box. “I can't thank you enough. Is it okay with you if I share it with the Iudex? You mentioned it's also his favorite.”

“Well, yes, of course. Please enjoy. But I suppose you're in a hurry, so I shall leave you to it.” he bows as he takes your free, white silk cloaked hand and presses your knuckles against his chapped lips. “It was a pleasure meeting you. You're just as beautiful and kind as the rumors say so.”

“Thank you, once again.” you bob a quick curtsy to him before leaving him behind. He watches the white, lacy patterns on the bottom of your turquoise dress wash against the floor as you continue your hurried steps to one Melusine to another to find Monsieur Neuvillette. A smirk deepens at the side of his mouth as he watches you open the box and eat the first piece of chocolate while you wait to be let into his office, and he's already thinking about just how many good pictures he's going to take of you and the Iudex.

A shiver runs across your spine, gooseflesh blooms on your skin when you finally stand ahead of Neuvillette. He's facing his high windows, taking in the view of the year's most brutal storm: trees are bending and breaking, the wind carries away the flowers of the streets and he notices some personal possessions fly across the asphalt. As the Iudex, he's already thinking about how to fix this mess. But as Neuvillette, he can't stop his body from shaking.

“Apologies for leaving without a word. Your show was most exquisite … it touched my soul in ways I cannot find the words to describe.” The tremble in his voice is enough for you to understand the waves of emotions that wash through him.

“Don't worry, Monsieur. Knowing my music has these effects on such a great man like yourself is a compliment on its own. I will remember it for the rest of my life with pride.” Despite him having his back facing you, you can see on the reflection of the window that his usually bright gaze is darker and they're fixated on your form. You offer a slight curtsy, and you swear it's only a long second that you close your eyes for, yet when you lift your chin, he's standing closer to you with his face ahead of yours. He's so close, you can smell the lavender oil the Melusines treat his luscious hair with and the sea salt that they use to wash his clothes.

“And proud is what you should be,” he begins. “It's been a long time since I've felt such an emotional turmoil. Yet, I don't think the language you sing in is familiar to me.”

“It's a dead language,” you nod. Your fingers begin to play with the material of your dress at your sides. “My mother taught it to me when I was little. I know phrases and words, but I can't tell you where the language is from or who used it.”

“No one else speaks this language, yet you manage to touch all of Teyvat with it. You're a real talent, and it's been my pleasure to have you visit our nation.” 

“Oh, it's been a pleasure more of mine, really.” You flash your pearly white teeth at him in a smile, and you swear that at the same second, from his window, you can see the storm lose its vigor and turn into a windless pour of rain. “I just wanted to check upon you, and share this box of chocolate with you at the same time if it's fine with you. A kind gentleman gave this to me saying that this is your favorite.”

“Strange, I can't recall ever seeing, let alone tasting such a dessert from Mondstadt.” He hums against the side of his index finger while musing. In the back of your mind, you already know that someone would lie about such a thing, but a strange, hurricane-like sensation washes across you as you stare at the man towering right ahead of you. The distinct color of his eyes, the ivory color of his healthy locks, the perfect pale skin are all calling to you for a touch, and you press your thighs together as your liquid desire begins to swell in between your folds. “How was it?”

“I'm sorry, what was the question?” you shake your head and laugh a little to be able to tear your stare away from him. The heat is already rising to your head, painting your cheeks rosy with a deep blush.

“I can see you already ate one. Was it to your liking?” the vibrations of his voice are more apparent, you realize, and it pains you that you can't swallow them in a kiss right now.

“Yes, Monsieur. I think it's quite nice. Has a little bit of a strange aftertaste, but otherwise it's delicious. The Valberry jam filling is extraordinary. ”

“Please, call me Neuvillette,” he returns your smile as he takes one of heart shaped chocolates into his mouth before he motions towards the couch, insisting that you sit down while he places the box on his table. “It's delicious indeed. I suppose I can trust your judgment when it comes to sweets in the future.”

“Thank you, Neuvillette.” You whisper. Sweat already begins to pearl at your hairline and on your nape by the time he takes off his cloak and his weight sinks into the couch so painfully close to you, you can feel his thigh brush against yours through your dress. 

“If it isn't too much to ask,” he begins. “Can you tell me what the story is behind your last song?”

“Well… it's a love story. A tragic one.” his colors appear brighter and clearer with each passing second, his icy appearance calling to you for a release from this burning that consumes you within. You can't look him in the eyes anymore, you realize while watching your fingers get lost in the vibrant color of your skirt. “It's about two lovers who were washed apart by the Archons and the primordial sea, never to see each other again, forced to spend their entire lives yearning for the other. But one day, they meet, but one doesn't remember the other anymore.”

“Sounds Fontanian,” Neuvillette muses as he loosens the knot on his scarf, revealing his swan-like neck to you. “Apologies, it's awfully hot in here today.”

“No worries,” you offer a smile, but the first sweat drop already begins to roll down on your temple and in your thoughts, you're mumbling thousands of curses at how tight your corset is. Yet, you do not find yourself wishing for air, but yearning to steal it from Neuvillette’s lungs. “My mother was from Fontaine, so it does make sense that the language originated from somewhere here.”

“Makes it even stranger that I can't recall hearing it before, however - ” 

“Neuvillette …I,” you cut into his words, hesitating to continue your words, but you're certain that you're edging closer and closer to fainting if you don't get some air soon. “It's very unethical of me to ask you, but would you be so kind as to loosen my corset for me a little?”

“Of course,” and the moment you touch his reached out hand to help you stand up, you wish you could tell him that it doesn't matter anymore and that you just need to go outside. But the rain is still pouring and the haze on your mind refuses to leave. The touch of his fingers are ever so delicate and delicious as they open the back of your dress to get to your corset. Your neck tilts and a sigh leaves your lips as the pressure on your ribs eases, and in your moment of relief, you don't notice Neuvillette's halt in his movements.

The sight of the crook of your neck invites him in for a kiss as his arms circle around your waist under your dress - at first, his touches are unsure, but as a satisfied hum leaves you, his arms tighten around you and his kisses travel from your neck to your jaw. Your eyelashes flutter when your gaze meets his, as if to give him permission to his begging eyes, that yes, he can very much kiss you. His lips feel like the sweetest sea foam: so delightful and gentle, and you can finally feel your lungs be filled with his being. You push your dress down, making it pool around your feet while Neuvillette's hands brush up on your belly to reach the front of your corset before pushing it off you and letting it fall on the dress. 

“You're so beautiful,” he whispers, and you feel his cock twitch against your ass as he begins to fondle your breasts. He swallows every whimper that escapes your lips when he takes each of your nipples in between his fingers, playing a rough game with them. “I adore your voice, the noises you make. The thought of making you sing in pleasure for me is driving me mad. Please, let me make you mine.”

“I'm yours, all yours,” you're ready to beg for more, but as if he can read your thoughts, he lays you across the couch before he frees you of your panties, panty hoes and shoes. For a brief second, you can hear a clicking sound from the distance, but the desire entirely engulf you both that you don't notice the barely open entrance door and the journalist with his camera. If this all wasn't for him being able to put bread on his table, he would've admitted that there is something magical about the way Neuvillette's tongue finds all the right spots in your cunt. It really does make a sensational picture: the Iudex of Fontaine devouring Teyvat's most famous soprano like his life depends on it.

But for Neuvillette, that feeling is as real as your hands holding onto his ivory hair. For a while, he wondered what got into him, but his words to you were true and the sounds that escape you makes him throw away every logical reasoning as to why he shouldn't suck on your clit or push his tongue so deep into you that it makes you cry out. 

“Right there, hng, please -” his eyes that were fixated on you the whole time now roll back as he feels the gush of your ecstasy pour into his mouth. He can't help, but get rid of his own clothes in fast but drunken movements, and he's ready to get back on top of you before something feral awakens in him. It's the glowing of his irises that you notice first between your thighs, then you swear that you can see his tongue stretch and part into two at its tip while his suddenly longer nails rake across your sides. This time, he's eating at you with primal hunger while one of his grip finds his growing cock and strokes it in the same fast rhythm his tongue dances inside you. You scream, you squirm, but it only makes him become all the more fast and rough as his upper lip rubs against your clit.

“What the fuck,” the journalist mumbles under his breath, his eyes widening in terror as Neuvillette's lower body grows navy blue scales, a forked tail emerges from the end of his spine and his dick is becoming dark and enormous enough that seemingly only the tip would be enough to fill you up. With shaky hands, he takes a picture.

“So it is you, hng, fuck-” you try to tell Neuvillette as another, but more powerful climax numbs your mind. Your heart flutters at the man standing ahead of you, and your love is the only thing that helps you think straight. “I've been looking for you my whole life, Hydro Dragon, my love.” 

“You're not terrified…” Neuvillette notes, his chest sinking with a sigh of relief before he questions what you said to him. It's an animalistic instinct that makes him kneel between your legs, rubbing his entire length across your folds to coat it in the mixture of his spit and your sticky juices. A whimper leaves your lips each time his thick head threatens to push into your entrance. “You're not human either, are you?”

“No,” you say simply as green scales begin to form on your thighs where Neuvillette is stroking you before they disappear again. Fighting your lavender haze of lingering orgasm, you sit up to take his tip in your palm to rub it for him as you continue. “I'm a siren. So don't worry, I can take this.”

“The song…” his brows furrow as you position his cock against your pussy, and begin to push yourself against it. It's painfully slow: he can feel every crook and cany of your insides, the blood in your veins welcoming him, the very wetness and warmth of you swallowing him so eagerly until his balls meet your ass. He shudders.

“It's about us, my love. You forgot about me.” You moan as you feel your insides adjust to his size. No matter how many human lovers you took over the millennium, no one and nothing ever compares to Neuvillette.

“Forgive me,” his lizard-like tongue dances along with yours as he wraps his arms around you and lifts you up into the air. Your legs wrap around his waist, your arms hold him in a sweaty embrace as he begins to slowly pull you up and down on the length of his cock. “Forgive me.”

“It was never your fault, hng, please go faster.” you beg of him as you look down at the sight of the two of you. His legs are of a dragon, his black claws digging at the wooden floor to hold himself in place as he begins to pick up the pace.

“I remember this,” he whispers as he loses himself in the feeling of you wraps around his entire being: your sound, your smell, your eyes. He remembers it all now, and his thrusts become rougher as if he feels angry at all the years you didn't spend together. Not only did they take you from him, they didn't even leave the memory of you. Tears begin to pour from his eyes as he kisses you again, his arms tighten around you and his thrusts become sloppy, but the clenching of your orgasm pushes him over his own pinnacle and he paints your walls white with his seed.

“Don't cry, my love,” you stroke his hair while his tears fall on your collarbone after he gently places you on the couch and he lays on top of you, his body slowly transforming back to human. “We found each other, that's all that matters.”

“What about you? Your loneliness? Your fright?” his voice shakes, and you can hear another powerful wind jerk at the buildings outside.

“I've always known we'd find our way back to each other. When I was lonely, I always recalled nights like this or when you were crying because of a song about a fish family when my parents invited you over to their coral palace. I've always remembered the kindness of your heart, and I carried it with me as my companion.” you comfort him and a smile tugs at your lips as the gray clouds begin to part on the sky, and the sunlight seeps through. You think about asking Neuvillette if he wants to check on the guests, but you find him with his eyes closed and deep in a slumber.

As you are trapped beneath him and you can't hear music anymore, you suppose that everyone else already left and you can also rest.

Until you hear the click sound of a camera.

“Needless to say, you're fired,” the Chief Editor of Steambird doesn't even bother to open the envelope that contains the erotic pictures of Neuvillette and you before she tears it into shreds. “Drugging the Iudex AND a Teyvat famous star? What were you even thinking? Hell, I even doubt you were thinking at all.”

“But…” the journalist begins, but the Editor holds up her hand to halt his words.

“You're to leave this company effective immediately. And if I were you, I'd be crawling on my knees to Monsieur Neuvillette for an apology and a huge thank you for not having you executed for treason.”

And with two boxes of worthless papers and without a penny in his pocket, the only mortal who knows your love story and your true being becomes your enemy.

[elspethdixon]

Tumblr: My fave Silm characters totally smoke weed.

You fool. No they don’t. Put away the stoner jokes and use your critical thinking skills for five seconds.

The Noldor do not and would never smoke weed. Thranduil smokes weed because he’s a chill party guy who likes to get fucked up. The Noldor are type A aggressive control freaks.

The Noldor do coke.

[buddiebeginz]

I could disappear forever and it wouldn’t make any difference.

[principiumindividuationis777]

[solstice-sims]

". . . oh, that's the story of my life . . ."