#he deserves nothing and in the end he is nothing!!!!

[luvth0t]

NEED ME? ━ L.N

in which you’re on vacation with your ex boyfriend, the only man who’s been able to make you cum in recent times.

warnings; smut, unprotected sex, eavesdropping, cocky lando, ex lovers, conversations of masturbation and inability to orgasm, hair pulling, oral both receiving, overstimulation, praise, slight degradation, choking ect.

it was a throw away question. one lando probably shouldn’t have brushed off.

“you’re sure you’re fine with her coming?” max had asked so casually despite it being on this tip of his tongue for the last hour, eyes not lifting from his phone to see the way lando looked at him with raised eyebrows.

the driver said your name in confusion, even chuckled. “of course. why wouldn’t i be?” lando followed; a rhetorical question. he knew why max was asking such thing.

he watched as max shrugged, hummed mindlessly as if he didn’t have a response prepared.

“wouldn’t catch me wanting to share a roof with my ex,” max mused; putting his phone down and finally meeting lando’s eyes, glare more so, quick to put his hands up in defence. “just saying. something to think about,” max quickly added.

he had his best friends best interest at heart.

“so what? we tell her she can’t come?” lando scoffed, shaking his head as he leant back into the seat he was occupying. “we’re friends. hasn’t been an issue before.” lando dismissed.

and he wasn’t lying. you’d broken up almost a year ago, which was concerning at first considering you shared the same friend group. were friends before lovers.

but it worked, you’d remained friends. saw each other every now and then, in a group setting. you weren’t as close, obviously, but it wasn’t awkward.

“no i know,” max huffed; even rolling his eyes. “maybe two villa’s is something to think about, that’s all.” max shrugged once more. he wasn’t just thinking of lando, but you as well, his other dear friend.

the brit shook his head, not giving in to the worry max seemed to hold. “not necessary. no different than being at the same hotel.” lando concluded.

he’d seen you on nights out, had conversations with you on boats; you still got an invite and paddock pass to his home race.

there was nothing to worry about. if you two weren’t capable of being friends, such thing would’ve been exposed.

that’s what lando thought anyways.

standing on the deck of a ten bedroom villa in the south of france however, he realised maybe he should’ve considered max’s words more carefully.

small doses of you seemed to differ from your constant presence.

the break up was civil, lando was grateful for such thing. it’d been him who ended things, purely because he felt as if he couldn’t give you the time you deserve. it was a cop out, he feared, realising things were almost too good between the pair of you.

he wasn’t sure he could commit to putting you through a relationship where you wouldn’t get the time and treatment you deserved.

you took it well, an angel in fact; you wanted to hate him for it. but you couldn’t bring yourself too. selfless enough to put the peace of your mutual friends and him first. plus, losing him entirely left a bitter taste in your mouth.

you’d mourned the relationship, cried in private and cursed him to your best friend; and moved on. well, appeared to have.

it went unspoken, amongst the group; in front of you two at least, and between you two as well. not exactly something you were ready to laugh at yet. it just seemed to go… unaddressed.

until it was night two, dinner at a fancy restaurant with maybe a few too many bottles of wine meant piling into ubers to get back to the villa.

it sort of just happened, lando shuffling into the car behind you; leaving you in the middle of him and max; pietra on max’s lap and tom in the front.

your senses were consumed of him immediately, not able to avoid him considering you were practically pressed into his side in an attempt to give pietra enough room.

you glanced up at him once, smiling sheepishly to see his eyes already on you.

“you still wear it,” lando hummed casually, pinky finger reaching to brush over the bracelet he’d bought you a few months into your relationship, grazing your wrist as he did so.

your cheeks went a shade of pink at the observation, and if it weren’t for the fact you were wine drunk you probably would’ve made up an excuse as to why the piece of metal still found it’s way onto your wrist everyday.

“it’s my favourite,” you replied; glancing down at the piece as your hand moved to fiddle with it, small smile playing on your lips.

you missed the grin spread on lando’s face, a sense of pride fulfilling him as he recounted the stress it had caused him just picking out the damn bracelet. he was relieved to see you still wearing it, for some reason.

“i’ve got good taste.” lando bragged, eyes practically begging for yours to meet his again; smiling in amusement when they did as you nudged him.

you were suddenly even more aware of the closeness, the way your knees were touching, how his arm had stretched to rest over the headrest behind you. it was forced proximity sure, but an odd sense of familiarity that you hadn’t felt in a while was accompanying it.

“most of the time,” you mused, earning a nudge back ━ which had a giggle escaping you, one you attempted to hush; not wanting to draw attention to you and lando’s conversation.

if it did, the others in the car would’ve seen the way lando’s face lit up at the sound. he hadn’t made you laugh like that in months, he’d forgotten how good it felt to do so.

he’d almost forgotten how easy you were to be around. how easy it was to fall for you in the first place.

it was as if the universe was punishing him for such thing, because suddenly you were all he could think about once more.

that night, he was simply relaxing in his room; when you came waltzing in.

“p,” your voice hummed as you knocked; pushing the door open before lando could muster a response from inside. “do you have my top━ oh shit, sorry!” you’d cut yourself short when you found yourself standing in lando’s room. not pietra and max’s.

who was luckily just lounging on the bed in his joggers, not far from switching the lamp off and going to sleep.

but he had been shocked to see you enter his room in just a towel.

“you’re fine,” lando chuckled; having sit up. “we swapped rooms this morning… figured they should have a private bathroom,” lando explained; watching as your face softened in some sort of relief.

you hadn’t been crazy. regardless, still embarrassed; the redness on your cheeks clear as you nodded, cringing ever so slightly.

“right; my bad, sorry,” you repeated; not even wanting to imagine what else you could’ve walked in on.

lando simply chuckled, shaking his head as his eyes glanced over your figure just once; unable to help himself. having to swallow to not let himself think back to what he knows is underneath the towel keeping you modest.

“i’m gonna go,” you declared; sheepishly smiling as you turned on your heel; cringing once more now that you were out of sight, not hiding the urgency as you practically fled his room and slammed the door behind you.

lando hadn’t realised he was holding his breath until you left, body relaxing as he flopped back onto the mattress; a curse leaving his lips.

the next morning, you were there again. obviously. yet he couldn’t see you, nor could you see him. so technically he was eavesdropping; but it hadn’t been on purpose.

lando was out on his balcony first, which was above yours it appeared; mindlessly scrolling through his phone before arabella’s voice became audible, who you were rooming with this trip.

“since when did nicolas get ripped,” she’d posed to you, peering at the man who was dipping in the pool; your eyes following her gaze from where you both sat in deck chairs; smoothies in hand.

“he’s always been cute,” you pointed out; shrugging ever so slightly as you adjusted the sunglasses atop your head, rolling your eyes the moment you caught glance of arabella’s grin.

“and he’s always been into you.” arabella chimed, and you should’ve expected her to steer the conversation in such direction.

lando whoever, who hadn’t scrolled past the tik tok which was playing for the fourth time now, had not expected such words.

his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you and nicolas? yeah right. you two were close friends, he knew that much. but nothing more. surely not.

“we’re friends bella,” you dismissed; shaking your head. slightly flirty friends as of recent, you’d admit. but just friends.

“so? doesn’t have to stay that way,” arabella had grinned ━ and lando felt betrayed; as if it should be him the pair of you were talking about. not nicolas.

“yes it does.” you laughed. “i’m not dating within the friend group ever again,” you spoke in such certainty it had lando confused, he didn’t think it faired that bad the first time.

but he also wasn’t opposed to your declaration. not that he was close to nicolas, in fact he probably knew him the least. but he was a brother of a childhood friend, who’d tagged along the last few trips. and lando had no complaints of the guy.

“don’t be silly,” arabella huffed. “i’m not saying fall in love with him. just that he could end the sex drought you’re stuck in.” arabella hummed, your eyes widening as you hit her softly.

“what? no one can hear us!” arabella spoke dramatically, and you rolled your eyes; no argument because you figured she was right.

however she wasn’t, because lando was still listening. and his interest had suddenly spiked.

“i am not… stuck in a sex drought,” you huffed; not sounding one bit convincing as you glanced at the pool. “men just suck. i’ve given up on having an orgasm.” your words were dramatic, and playful, but still a bit of truth to them.

suddenly lando felt guilty for overhearing, or purposefully listening, but he couldn’t help but be intrigued.

your words made no sense to him; considering nights with you would always lead to multiple orgasms for both of you.

and it wasn’t as if you were short on options.

“gotta do everything yourself these days,” arabella sighed out dramtically in agreement; but she had a boyfriend, and your friendship with the girl wasn’t one for many secrets; you knew she was only ‘relating’ out of sympathy.

truth was; since lando, nothing or no one could compare. not even your own damn fingers.

“can’t even get myself off.” you huffed out almost ashamed, and you only whined when you met arabella’s shocked eyes and slack jaw.

lando suddenly felt intrusive, and flustered from the idea of you touching yourself; one he’d grown familiar with due to long distance. suddenly he was standing and ready to walk himself inside in his room.

“is your body like… broken?” arabella sounded bewildered, and you could only huff.

you’d blame it on stress, or any of your medication if it was possible; you’ve heard stories, knew there could be many reasons as to why your sex drive and urges have suddenly changed. none aligned with your circumstances however.

“just deprived i think,” you sighed.

lando needed to get his mind off your sexual need’s immediately, deciding to go on a run with max to occupy himself. to get you off his mind.

and it worked, until he got back to the villa. hot and out of breath, he found himself in the kitchen ━ pouring a glass of water with ice, eyes wandering out the fold out doors that exposed the luxurious back yard. decking, sun lounges, a pool; and his closest friends.

and his ex girlfriend. in a little bikini. with another man’s hands on her.

he couldn’t help but scoff at the sight, you resting on your stomach as nicolas rubbed sunscreen into your back ━ watching as you grinned and spoke up to him momentarily. you were flirting, he knew that look.

his takeaways from his… eavesdropping, was that you didn’t plan to pursue nicolas. so what the fuck was this?

he wanted to laugh, you were going to seek answers to your problems in nicolas? he almost felt offended; if you needed good sex so badly he felt as if he was the obvious candidate.

“careful mate, you’re staring,” max’s words snapped lando out of his thoughts; causing him to glare at the man quickly, bringing his glass to his lips, unaware that his grip was so tight his knuckles were white.

max’s amusement only escalated, eyebrows raising as he chuckled quietly.

“i wasn’t.” lando murmured, leaning back against the counter. “just didn’t know that was a thing,” he tried to shrug off; eyes returning to where you now sat up, rubbing sunscreen into nicolas’s back now.

had he been oblivious to the pair of you?

“i don’t think it is.” max shrugged, following lando’s gaze momentarily, not overanalysing the sight. everyone was friends here.

lando looked to max in doubt, to check if he was being serious.

“does it matter if it is?” max questioned, sassily too, almost a challenge; and lando was quick to scoff ━ mustering up the best chuckle he could to appear as unbothered as he wanted to be.

“no,” the mclaren driver answered almost too quickly, clearing his throat slightly. “i hope it is. would be a good match,” he overcompensated; left to only flip max off as he chuckled and hummed unconvincingly.

“whatever you say,” max mused.

lando wished he was being honest, but as time passed by it became quite clear he was lying.

dinner that night you were sat at opposite ends of the long table, like usual; regardless, lando’s eyes were trained on you for the majority of the night.

you and nicolas of course. who’d snagged the seat next to you.

forced to watch as you shared food, laughed and chattered away in your own little world.

lando felt sick from the sight; that used to be him. should be him. and while he could only blame himself for it not being him, it was a cruel reminder of what he’d lost.

he felt utterly helpless however, because there was nothing he could do.

he couldn’t even express his dismay to anyone as he watched nicolas help you in the car. left to watch as you both giggled and stumbled up to the villa ahead of the group.

he wanted to intervene, to make his presence known to hopefully at least make it awkward. but he couldn’t bring himself too.

not when you’d been such an angel in the breakup, made things so easy for him from the start of the relationship to now. it just wouldn’t be fair to ruin this for you.

even though it was all he wanted to do.

he noted how you two were first off to go ‘sleep’ that night, halfway through the movie that had been put on. and he suddenly wished he’d downed a few more glasses of red at the restaurant, maybe then he wouldn’t have the capacity to brainstorm up everything and anything you and nicolas could be doing tonight.

he wasn’t going to say it was what kept him up, tossing and turning and unable to fall asleep; but it definitely played on his mind.

it was starting to make sense to him at least; he hadn’t been around you without distractions since the breakup. it suddenly became clear how helpful those distractions are.

3:42 the clock read.

lando hadn’t gotten a second of shut eye, and after two hours of laying there; he conceded. deciding to get a glass of water as if that would be the solution to all his problems.

instead he was just met with the problem itself; you.

surprise, surprise. nicolas was not the answer to your prayers.

you were already keen to tell arabella ‘i told you so’ when you returned to your room. having spent the night in nicolas’.

he was a nice guy, until the clothes came off.

it was nothing new, you on top; he came. you didn’t. he then tried to get you to finish with his fingers, and you faked an orgasm when it became clear he wasn’t finding your clit any time soon.

your frustrations had now multiplied, it felt pathetic. you were ready to give up.

you snuck out the moment he fell asleep, in the kitchen to get a glass of water and for a few moments to yourself.

“shouldn’t be surprised you’re up,” lando made his presence known, having debated running back to his room when he noticed you occupying the kitchen.

typical.

“needed a drink,” you hummed sheepishly; and for some reason when your eyes met his you felt intimidated; as if you needed refuge, turning back around to the fridge to fill your cup up with ice.

maybe it was because you were already sexually frustrated. or the fact you were stood with your ex boyfriend after sneaking out of another guys room.

“same,” lando hummed; moving behind you to grab a glass for himself, and you could feel him waiting behind you as you poured water into the glass.

“nice night?” lando asked when you moved aside so he too could fill his glass, not looking at you for the time being so you wouldn’t decipher the motives in the question. he didn’t need you to know how concerned he was with your night.

you nodded quickly, humming as you still had a mouth full of water, leaning against the counter now.

“yeah, yeah,” you spoke; pursing your lips. it had been. until it wasn’t. “restaurant was lovely,” you smiled; shifting on your feet slightly as you took in his appearance, even in the dull lightly.

his messy curls that look slept on, slightly tired eyes. he looked cozy.

lando nodded, so much on the tip of his tongue. maybe if it was a different hour of the day he’d have the common sense to not speak his mind, but he was slightly sleep deprived and going insane from his own thoughts.

“you know my balcony is above yours,” lando told you; randomly, your eyebrows furrowing ━ coughing out a slight laugh. you weren’t sure where this conversation was going to lead, your guess was awkward silence. not him blurting out something… irrelevant.

it took a few moments for it to dawn on you, the slight curve of lando’s lips into a smirk causing your eyes to widen in realisation.

you’d only been out on the balcony once today.

“oh my god,” you mumbled; cringing as he chuckled, shaking his head ever so slightly. “shut up!” you whisper yelled, leaning forward to whack his arm, which only had him laughing once more as his hands flew up in defence.

“i wasn’t eavesdropping! i swear,” lando mused, shaking his head as your eyebrows raised.

“great, so you just happened to hear all about my sad sex life,” you huffed, and lando couldn’t help the small smile that was refusing to leave his lips; always having adored the sight of you flustered and sheepish.

it didn’t help, the sight of you wearing what seemed to be just an oversized shirt. reminiscent of how his shirts would drape over your body.

“yeah,” lando confirmed sympathetically, causing you to whack him again; no force in your actions as you groaned audibly.

you couldn’t think of anyone you’d rather not hear that conversation; ever so grateful you hadn’t been completely honest with arabella.

you would die of humiliation if you’d told her how you compared every man to lando, how you found no one was able to make you feel anywhere near as good.

but regardless, there was a level of comfort. you trusted the man in front of you.

“nicolas though hm?” lando spoke light heartedly, reminding you of the man you’d just been in bed with.

was it bad he’d slipped your mind completely? having forgotten that he was who sparked such conversation this morning.

“did he make you cum?” his follow up question had you dumbfounded, having not expected such blunt words as your lips parted. “can i ask that?” lando added with a reassuring laugh. but you knew that look in his eyes.

they were darker than usual, he was staring at you intently; practically begging you to step closer.

“no,” you cleared your throat, opting for honesty. “he didn’t.” you huffed, eyes avoiding his for a moment as if you were ashamed. as if it was your fault.

the relief lando felt was pathetic, not that he wished a bad time upon you. or anyone for that matter. but god it felt like the door had been swung right open for him.

he was right; of course nicolas wasn’t going to do it for you.

“i know you can make yourself cum.” lando chimed, pushing himself off the counter and taking a couple steps towards you; ridding any distance as he stood in front of you. “used to be able to at least, seen it myself,” he told you as if you could forget.

you swallowed intently, the tension now almost suffocating. sleeping with an ex was something you swore against; recipe for disaster. but it seemed awfully appealing when it looked like lando did right now.

your cheeks were pink, thinking about the countless times you’d gotten yourself off on facetime calls with the driver, purely because neither of you could wait any longer to see one another again.

“not the same anymore.” your voice was barely above a whisper, it didn’t need to be; not when he was only centimetres away, looking down at you as if he was ready to ravish you.

lando’s eyebrow raised at that, eyes flickering across your face.

it wasn’t the same, you’d worked out the hard way. you only relied on your own devices when you had no other choice; and with that would be lando on the of phone with words of encouragement and direction.

“what, need me to talk you through it again?” his words were teasing as his hand moved to cup your cheek; your stomach turning at the thought. at the fact he seemed like he knew that would do it for you.

you let out a slight breath, shaking your head but you held little confidence in doing so.

“need me to touch you?” he added on, offer sounding almost like a request; words so hushed you could’ve missed them. but you didn’t, you heard him loud and clear.

his eyes were pouring into yours as if he pitied you, but the smirk on his face showed he wanted nothing more than to be the one to solve your problems.

you didn’t even need to think about it, no ifs or buts entering your mind; nothing could make the idea of him seem unappealing.

“please,” you mumbled; eyes pouring up into his, watching as a wicked grin spread on his features; one that made your knees weak.

it was all lando needed to hear, lips pressing against yours in an instant; it coming back to the pair of you quickly. feeling so natural, the way your body melted into his touch; the way your lips moved against each other.

your hands finding a grip on his shirt as his spread across your hips.

lando didn’t waste any time; he wanted to make you cum.

he wasn’t sure if it was because it seemed like a challenge, or because he missed you; but god did he want nothing more than to make you feel good:

his knee pushed between your thighs first, your legs spreading; immediately aware of the finger he was tracing up your inner thigh.

as much as lando missed the feeling of your lips against his, he loved watching you react to every touch and feeling. pulling away but not creating much distance as his fingers brushed over your clothed folds.

you took a sharp breath, shifting your weight to lean against the counter as the anticipation built within, eyes locked on his as he teasingly brushed your clothed clit as well.

he could feel your soaked panties, a wet patch that you knew wasn’t there when you first entered the kitchen.

“you know it doesn’t make sense,” lando started speaking through a breath; his fingers pushing your panties aside with ease, swiping through your folds; spreading your wetness to your clit. “because you’re always so easy for me baby,” he practically cooed as he slipped two fingers inside you.

your jaw fell slack, hips pushing against his hand lightly as you whimpered; cheeks hinting at his taunting words which you’d almost forgotten about and how crazy they drove you.

his free hand returned to your cheek, cupping the side of your face and adjusting your head to ensure you were looking up at him; his head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed down at you.

“so responsive,” he added in a hum; looking incredibly smug, thumb settling on your clit ━ and the moan that escaped you as he circled your sensitive bud had lando’s jaw clenching. he’d missed your pretty sounds.

he was toying with you, teasing. his fingers moving slowly, thumb only lightly circling your clit. yet you hadn’t felt this good in fucking forever, face contorting in pleasure proving such thing.

lando could get lost in the sight, not able to help himself from wanting to give you more.

his fingers gradually picked up the pace, thumb applying more pressure now; but it was when he curled his fingers, grazing that spot he never failed to miss, that you hadn’t been able to find, that a slightly louder moan escaped you.

“ah, ah,” lando hushed you; tapping your cheek lightly. “gotta be quiet baby,” lando hummed through heavy breaths, hating that he had to ask such thing of you.

he wanted to hear you lose control, hear you scream his name like you had countless of times. but he’d hate to be interrupted and have the current sight cut short.

you whined quietly at the request, biting down on your bottom lip as you tried to keep any noise at bay; knowing you had no choice. waking anyone up would be less than ideal.

but somehow, the thought of being caught was the least of your concerns.

your back arched when he added a third, thumb still expertly playing with your clit; your quiet whimpers and moans were growing in volume once more.

lando took matters into his own hands, the hand cupping your cheek shifting so he could tap his pointer finger on your bottom lip; and he had to shut himself up this time as you invited two digits past your lips without second thought.

“fuck,” he mumbled out; eyes fixated on the way you looked up at him with his fingers in your mouth; so similar to the sight of when you’d suck him off. his hard on was almost painful.

your moans were muffled now, thankfully, as your hips pushed forward once more; slowly losing control over your body as the pleasure continued to build.

you’d made a mess on your thighs, his fingers working in and out of you perfectly; beginning to curl his fingers repeatedly had your eyes rolling back.

“yeah, right there baby?” lando mumbled; despite you unable to respond. “gonna make a mess on my fingers yeah? think you deserve to cum,” he smirked ━ and if you could’ve you would’ve cried out, nodding quickly at his words.

your stomach tightened, it was sudden; more sudden than you remembered, lando having caught on to the fact you were cumming before you did; squeezing his fingers as you came undone.

his body was practically holding you up against the counter, vision going white for a moment as your muffled moans filled the air, hips bucking involuntarily once more.

lando wanted to curse himself for ever depriving himself of such thing, watching as you shook in front of him; fingers moving to let you ride out your high, until he was pulling them from your panties, and mouth respectively.

your eyes fluttered open, nothing but awe as you gazed up at him through hooded eyes; panting ever so lightly.

he was smiling cockily, if he didn’t know the root of your issue before, he did now. the way you needed him.

you couldn’t even crush his inflating ego, not when he’d made you cum so hard in a matter of minutes; giving you what you’d been chasing the past few months.

he was about to kiss you again, after moments of admiring your face; but the sound of a door shutting had the moment ruined, reminding both you and him of where you are and what you’re meant to be.

definitely not meant to be caught having a moment at 4 in the morning.

lando was quick in taking a few large strides across the kitchen, positioning himself on the other side of the island as you quickly tugged your shirt down and ran your hand through your hair.

when pietra walked in, it was an innocent sight. plenty of distance between the pair of you, not enough lights on to expose your flushed cheeks or lando’s glistening fingers.

you pretended to be surprised as you brought your glass to your lips, leaning against the counter because your legs were still shaky, lando nodding towards the blonde.

“can’t sleep?” lando hummed in question.

“need to fill my water up.” pietra nodded with a smile, eyes flickering between you in suspicion for a brief moment as she realised this was almost an awkward thing to walk in on. you and him.

if only she knew.

you nodded in agreement, raising your glass of water as lando let out a small chuckle.

“if you need a late night snack, the donuts are great,” lando spoke again; your eyes falling onto him, and you were sure your face was bright red as you watched him bring his fingers to his lips; licking them clean.

you coughed on air, playing it off as if your water went down the wrong way; pietra oblivious as she nodded with a smile.

“i’ll keep that in mind.”

the smirk he’d sent you was sickening, and with that he was saying good night and excusing himself.

lando ended up needing a cold shower that night, with his own hand and images of you burned into his mind.

you were hoping your head would be clear when you woke up, but it was only more scrambled.

you’d gotten what you wanted, was it greedy to only want more?

“good night?” arabella had questioned you, sitting next to you on the long dining table; bowls of cereal in front of pair of you; and the smirk on her face was quite telling.

except she didn’t know the half of it.

“yeah, yeah it was good,” you hummed; eyes shifting to the other end of the table; where lando sat, already staring at you. the mischievous glint in his eye had you looking away quickly, the sly smirk not helping you in trying to play it cool to arabella.

you knew he was listening.

“did your… problem get solved?” arabella attempted to ask without outing you, so oblivious to the fact lando could easily piece together her words.

your eyes narrowed towards her, as if to say ‘shut up.’ which she only looked back at you with wide eyes, finding herself quite discrete.

“well?” arabella pushed, whisper yelling.

“yes,” you huffed; in hopes she would shut up, you could feel lando’s eyes burning into you. the man who solved your problem, unbeknownst to arabella who thought it was nicolas who was responsible.

“ah! how exciting,” arabella grinned; standing up and taking her bowel to the kitchen, only then did you let your eyes fall back on the british driver.

who looked oh so amused, you had to flee; following in the girls steps.

it set the tone for the next few days; longing looks, tempting smirks and lingering touches.

you couldn’t bring yourself to go out of your way and seek more of him; despite how much you wanted it. nicolas had been forgotten about, failing to explain your sudden interest and now lack of in the guy.

lando was all you could think about. how couldn’t you? he’d fingered you in the kitchen, bringing you to a mind blowing orgasm you’d been craving; one you hadn’t experienced since him. and once again, it had gone unaddressed.

the tension was clear; you got peace from the fact he was in the same boat as you.

you hated that he’d walked off so smug that night and you yourself had nothing to brag about, left to accept the fact that you needed him. had missed him.

and he knew it.

so maybe you were tactical, every day the dresses got shorter. bikini’s got smaller. you wanted to see him squirm.

which was easy.

it was ridiculous, how often you felt his gaze burning into you; feeling the heat on your skin from such thing. you’d blame the hot summer sun for the the constant blush on your cheeks but in reality it was him.

made to feel better by the way his jaw was constantly clenched. hands fiddling with one another. leg bouncing impatiently because he was furious with the fact you were no longer his, he couldn’t whisk you away and tear your clothes off like he wanted too.

left to simply stare. dwell on the facts. wish that he somehow gets a moment alone with you again.

there were sliding doors.

two minutes alone underneath the cabin on a boat, both trying to find something to drink. he swore you were about to kiss him before max came bouncing down the stairs.

you’d all gone out one night, somehow it was only you two left at the bar. lando was convinced this was it, he was going to drag you off to the bathroom.

but then arabella appeared, demanding shots.

you’d never admit that you went out to the kitchen most nights, hoping he too would be awake at such ridiculous hour again.

you tried not to get frustrated, even with the knowledge there was only a couple days till you’d be flying back home to reality.

finally however, you got lucky.

lando had gone on a run; unbeknownst to you, who had slept in.

you rejected plans of going to a winery, choosing for a day by the pool to save energy to go out tonight like planned.

your group of friends had attempted to protest your decision, but you insisted. bribed them with a promise you would do some baking while they were out.

that’s where lando found you.

stood in the kitchen. of course.

tiny bikini. typical.

and no one else in sight. lovely.

“smells fucking amazing.” lando hummed; slightly breathless as he sauntered into the kitchen, moving to stand against the island ━ a safe distance between the pair of you.

the voice had startled you, jumping slightly as you turned around.

you smiled appreciatively at his words, attempting to not stare at his exposed torso. tanned skin, beads of sweat decorating it. his muscles only more prominent as he crossed his arms, flexing invitingly.

“would feel bad letting such a big kitchen go to waste,” you explained; shrugging ever so slightly as your eyes returned to the chocolate chip cookies you were currently making. refuge from the sight of him.

he chuckled, and nodded; not that you saw. but his eyes didn’t leave you.

he should go up to his room.

“who’s home?” he couldn’t help but ask, feet planted. he wasn’t going anywhere.

the question had you facing what you were trying to ignore; the fact it was just the pair of you. it was dangerous knowledge.

“just us,” you spoke through a breath. if the tension wasn’t clear before, those two words had it falling upon the pair of you like bricks.

lando nodded once more, lips pursing. you were so tempting. this was what he’d been hoping for. he was impressed he even had the mental strength to consider running off. hiding in his room till your friends returned.

that idea didn’t last long though. moving towards you, you heard him approaching; his presence was demanding.

he was behind you, causing you to freeze. breath stuck in your throat.

“you’re driving me crazy.” he’d whispered, despite no fear of anyone overhearing; and you had to shut your eyes for a brief moment when his lips grazed your ear, ensuring you knew just how in reach he was.

you found some solace in his words, confirming your suspicions. reassuring to know you weren’t the only one going crazy. the only one feeling nostalgic.

“how so?” you played dumb, bottom lip rolling through your teeth ━ regardless your head tilted aside as his lips grazed your skin again, his breath fanning your skin.

you heard him grunt, and it would’ve made you giggle if you weren’t fighting off the urge to jump his bones.

“don’t act like it’s not on purpose.” lando huffed, hands moving to play with the fiddling strings of your bikini, fingertips only just brushing your skin.

you had to draw in another breath, suddenly feeling exposed and vulnerable. you needed some sort of power, just a physical reminder that he too was struggling despite his admission.

so you turned on your feet, eyes flickering up to his as you shrugged your shoulders; breaths slightly irregular from the closeness. right in front of you. trapping you against the counter.

“know you haven’t forgotten that all you need to do is use your words if you want me to fuck you,” lando spoke before you could, oozing cockiness despite his wandering eyes and tense jaw; his patience wearing thin.

once more you were cornered in the kitchen by his attractive frame and blunt words that had your thighs squeezing together.

“goes both ways,” you chimed; worried if you didn’t speak now you wouldn’t get a word in. you knew how this went; it was only a matter of time till you were a mess in his hands.

his eyebrows raised, he even scoffed; if he wasn’t so eager for you to go on he would’ve reminded you it didn’t.

lando always had a kink for making you beg.

“i already got what i wanted,” you hummed; hands moving to rest on his toned abdomen, running down and across the muscles before finding the waistband of his joggers. “something you want?”

your teasing tone had lando remembering just how worked up you got him, how frustrating and almost annoying you were. how annoying it was to deal with your antics that was.

“the other night was more than enough for me baby,” lando mused; not cracking, even with your hands on his body. “always look so pretty when you cum.”

you wish his words didn’t have such a visible effect on you. how flustered you got clear by the way the blood rushed to your cheeks, even while you stood here playing with the waistband of his pants.

it was pathetic; neither of you wanting to crack first, wasting precious time because you both really thought you were above this.

able to be friends. exes who wouldn’t go back to each other.

you knew he wasn’t entirely lying; of course you could remember how you were gifted a man who got off from getting you off. how he’d spent nights with his head just buried between your thighs. making you cum countless of times before he got his dick wet.

“cold shower treat you well?” you huffed; not letting him get away with such thing. as if he wasn’t standing here with the need to fuck you.

he smirked at your words, your attitude more so; the playful banter having been something he’d missed. something that wasn’t the same since things became platonic.

“did the job.” he laughed, hands still ghosting over your hips. “jealous i can still get myself off?” he couldn’t help but chuckle; and your jaw dropped at him using confidential information against you.

your hands still on his stomach, whacking lightly which he only chuckled harder at; and if you weren’t embarrassed you’d be taking in the way the smile was lighting up his face.

“that was not something you’re meant to use against me,” you practically grumbled; eyes narrowing up at him and he practically awed at the sight, adoring eyes and all as his hand moved to cup your cheek. his grin not matching the sympathetic eyes.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled jokingly as he leant forward; not giving you time to reply as he put the both of you out of your misery, lips connecting with yours.

it wasn’t what you’d both expected, the kiss to finally ease the tension that had been building ever since a few nights ago in the same spot; the kiss was slow. passionate and deep, but not rushed.

it didn’t last long; but was nice in the moment however. to feel him.

the urge to feel more however was soon too prominent.

your hands that had linked behind his neck soon tangled in his hair. the grip he had on your waist soon moved to your ass, squeezing the flesh within his hold which had you leaning into him.

he lazily dragged you back with him, his back hitting the kitchen island as he practically held you against his body; lips moving in sync.

you felt his hard on with the movement, contained by his joggers; your own excitement jumping as your hands left his hair to snake down between your bodies; palming him.

the groan against your lips only motivated you; and while you wish you could do what he does, stand here and tease him; you were too keen to get your hands on him. to hear more of those pretty sounds he makes.

so you simply smiled up at him as you pulled away; bending down and settling on your knees; hands tugging his pants and underwear down with you; revealing his cock.

his breaths were a lot heavier as he watched you, leaning back against the counter ever so slightly, gaze fixed downwards as a small smirk tugged on the corner of his mouth.

he hissed as your small hand wrapped around him; thumb swirling the precum ━ you loving every bit of knowing how turned you got him from just a few words and the sight of you.

he wouldn’t ever deny it either; no one did it for him like you did.

“look so pretty on your knees,” lando praised; eager to gain back some control, despite knowing he’d do anything you asked of him right now; your hand feeling much than his did the other night.

you were eager to continue to please, so you didn’t waste any time in taking him in your mouth. it was as if he knew such thing, by the way his eyes were peering down at you.

his head fell back at the sensation, one he’d missed ━ arms flexing as he gripped the counter; a few curses strung together tumbling from his lips as you practically took him in whole first go.

his tip hitting the back of your throat did little to deter you. it was natural, as if you’d done such thing only a few days ago; not months ━ second nature as your tongue swirled his cock.

your eyes remained up, looking through your lashes as your head bobbed ━ knees uncomfortably shifting against the tiles but it was the last thing on your mind with the beautiful man above you.

taking in the way his abs flexed, neck strained and lips parted as you sucked him off ━ gagging occasionally but both of you knew that was no issue.

“missed this fucking mouth,” lando grunted, hand moving to tangle in your hair; both to keep it out of your way and to just have some sort of hold on you.

he was blindsided with pleasure, more than he remembered he’d be. your bikini did little to leave much to the imagination from his angle, watching as your breasts bounced with every movement. matched with your doe eyes, his jaw was slack.

you hummed as he tugged your hair lightly, the sensation one you always welcomed; and he too was reminded of such as he felt the vibrations around him. tugging again with a little more force.

his groans were gradually becoming more regular, hips bucking once or twice ━ pushing his cock further down your throat each time.

“just like that baby, always so good for me,” lando breathed, eyes screwing such momentarily as his head fell back once more.

you almost whined at the vision, wanting to scramble to your feet and kiss at his skin, feel all over him.

and he’d be happy to let you, he was hesitant in having you get him off first regardless; you hadn’t left much room for argument with good reason.

but right now he had no complaints, moans growing slightly louder in volume ━ grip tightening on the strands of your hair. he didn’t give you any warning as he came, but you didn’t need any.

the way he twitched in your mouth, you didn’t miss a beat ━ swallowing all you could; revelling in the way your name left his lips.

your mouth left him with a pop, gazing up at him to meet his adoring eyes, staring down at you as if you were the greatest thing to grace the earth.

because he did think of you as such. you continued to amaze him, he didn’t grow immune to such thing; just had managed to avoid the fact for a while now.

you stood to your feet, relieving your knees of the discomfort; a coy smile plastered on your lips at him panting and flustered.

you felt even, for the other night; reassured you weren’t the only one in need.

lando couldn’t complain either, couldn’t throw a playful comment towards you ━ not when you stood there with messy hair and swollen lips. all he could think about was turning you into a whiny mess, desperate to have you at his mercy again.

it was clear neither of you knew what to say in the few moments of silence; shamelessly admiring the other, catching your breaths. it wasn’t awkward however.

you were happy to feel his lips on yours once more ━ his hands not shy in wandering your body this time, sliding down to your thighs and hoisting you up immediately.

he was swift in turning around and placing you on the counter, stood between your legs as he hummed against your lips.

it wasn’t until his mouth ducked to your neck, then your collar bones, becoming harder to ignore as your head fell back, growing hot from the kisses he placed where-ever he could, that you spoke up.

“should go to your room,” you managed to get out, watching him through hooded eyes as he simply grabbed the material of your bikini to let your breasts fall free, kissing at the skin of them afterwards.

it wasn’t that you were worried on being walked in on, you had the house to yourselves for at least a couple more hours. you knew that. more so just the knowledge this wasn’t your house.

his eyebrows raised as he looked back up at you, hand sprawling over your stomach as he pushed you back slightly; your body blindly following the suggestion as you leant back on your hands.

“i paid for this villa baby, if i wanna fuck you on the counter i will,” lando murmured, hands spreading your thighs further apart; putting you in no position to argue you.

how could you? his words sounded like a promise, one you could only hope he would keep.

you nodded pathetically, suddenly aware of his hands resting high up on your inner thighs; suddenly aware of your own arousal and need for him.

he discarded of your bikini bottoms with ease, admiring your frame for a few moments as his hand reached to squeeze your breast, nipple rolling through his fingers moments later.

“lando,” you breathed; almost in warning, almost a whine. your legs were still spread and you were already resisting the urge to squirm. your patience non existent.

he only grinned, a slight chuckle maybe as his hands pushed your legs further apart once more.

“i got you baby,” lando hummed. “always so needy for me, you need me yeah? don’t you?” he spoke teasingly, tone painfully sweet as his fingers traced over your soaked folds.

you wanted to curse his obvious teasing, point out how you hadn’t been so cruel. but you knew it’d be no use.

you were scared to admit such thing, huffing as your hips bucked upwards momentarily.

“want to hear you say it.” lando grunted when he realised you weren’t planning on speaking; pinching your clit to get his point across, a strangled moan escaping you as your lips parted, falling into submission.

“need you.” you whined almost shamefully, head falling back as if the ceiling would offer you refuge from his hard stare. “please,”

your pleas were always music to his ears, so much so he debated with the idea of teasing you some more; to draw more whines and please out of you. but the way you were spread for him, so ready; he couldn’t help himself any longer.

you yelped at the sudden feeling of his mouth on your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud; not expecting such feeling as your eyes rolled back.

his hands manoeuvred your thighs to place your legs over his shoulders; giving him full access to your core as sweet moans started to escape you.

“o-oh my god,” you whimpered; eyes flickering to the sight of his head between your thighs ━ back arching as his tongue swiped through your folds, assaulting your cunt relentlessly as if he was starved.

you’d been reminded of how good his fingers were; so much so you hadn’t even considered getting his tongue again.

his large hands were squeezing your thighs, a bruising grip to keep you in place; eating you out expertly.

“lando━ feels so good,” you moaned as if that wasn’t clear by the way your hips were pushing against his hold. your right hand left the counter, moving to tangle in his curls, something to grab.

his blue eyes ventured to the sight of you momentarily, and he groaned into your cunt as he took note of the way your face was contorting in pleasure, how your body flinched with every move he made.

whimpers and moans were free falling, lando enjoying every single one ━ glad you could be as loud as you wanted, as loud as he made you.

you knew you were approaching your high shamefully fast, but had little room to care when you’d failed to reach it so much recently.

lando knew your body too well, could tell by the way you were tugging on his curls and creating more force against the hold he had on your thighs that you were about to cum.

he wanted you to let go, tongue flicking and nose bumping your clit ━ you orgasmed hard, suddenly; cumming on his tongue with what almost sounded like a squeal.

he didn’t stop, letting you ride out your high ━ before pulling away, wiping at the corners of his mouth.

you were mistaken however in thinking you would have time to catch your breath, not getting a word out before lando was moving only one leg off his shoulder and sliding two fingers into your entrance suddenly; thumb landing on your sensitive clit.

your body almost didn’t know how to react, falling back onto your hands that found the counter you sat upon once more to stabilise yourself.

“s’ too much,” you whimpered ━ legs attempting to squeeze shut, failing with the angle caused by one leg draped over lando’s shoulder, which allowed his fingers to hit deep within you.

lando hummed in amusement, knowing how much you could take. knowing you always said that, just to whine and cry out if he were to stop.

“too much?” he mocked; fingers curling and your body jerking. “want me to stop?” he breathed; smirking oh so cockily because he knew the answer. chuckling as you shook your head ‘no’ incredibly quickly.

“didn’t think so,” he huffed; thumb speeding up on your clit, rolling over the bud continuously. it was pure ecstasy, the overstimulation overwhelming your entire body.

his breaths were heavy as he admired you, the way you were shaking beneath him. reminiscent of how easily he could you like this, of the nights he made you cum four or five times before fucking you.

it killed him he didn’t have the time to do so again. but he couldn’t possibly complain right now.

“making a mess baby, all over my fingers,” lando spoke; the filthy sounds of his fingers moving in out of you filling the room, and you weren’t sure you’d last much longer when he entered a third. “so greedy. gonna cum again aren’t you?”

it was like he was three steps ahead of your body, leaving you to whine and nod pathetically.

“yeah? that what you want? to cum again?” lando spoke once more; watching as your head fell back, your eyes screwing shut and it satisfied him to see you feel the pleasure he was giving.

he was hard again, purely from his name sounding so fucking incredible as you moaned and moaned, from the perfection you were.

his hand grasping your cheek had your eyes flying open as lando tilted your head forwards to look at him, eyebrows raised in expectance.

“words pretty girl,” lando reminded, chin still between his thumb and index finger ━ struggling to focus on him with the numbing pleasure that was causing tears to form.

you nodded, before processing what he’d said. words. right.

“please lando,” you gasped; eyes pouring into his, pleading with his as your back arched and legs shook. you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop yourself. “gonna cum,” you whined.

lando felt it had been far too long to be cruel, so he simply hummed in appreciation; smiling lazily as he pushed you over the edge as he curled his fingers once more.

your vision went white, screaming his name as you came again, all over his fingers.

lando’s bottom lip rolled through his teeth at the sight, able to take in every moment, no restraint for either of you and it felt fucking amazing.

his hands gently moved your leg off his shoulder, stood between them as his hands massaged your thighs comfortingly, giving you a few moments to come down and catch your breath.

your eyes fluttered open, and immediately you were smiling stupidly at the sight of lando; his own grin mirroring yours as he hummed quietly.

“you’re so beautiful,” he whispered; unable to stop the compliment from escaping him, and your smile only grew; knowing you’d disagree if you caught sight of your tangled hair and flushed cheeks. 

it had your stomach flipping, men compliment you all the time. only lando would gain such a reaction.

“got another one in you?” his question was gentle; the sparkle in his eye daring, and you had no hesitation in nodding.

“need you inside me,” you mumbled, causing the driver’s smirk to return to its rightful place ━ glad your wants were shared.

you may have gone a long time without, but your stamina hadn’t faulted.

lando was tugging you to the edge of the counter at that, and you easily got lost in the kiss that he placed upon your lips; rough and messy as you melted into his hold.

it’d caught you by surprise, when he tugged you down onto your feet, spun your round and bent you over the marble surface; a gasp escaping you.

“missed you so much,” lando sighed; ushering your legs apart as your breath hitched in your throat. you didn’t know what to focus on, his words, your position or the feeling of his hands on your ass.

the confession wasn’t one you’d hold onto, you knew better than to cling to words uttered during sex. but god it felt great to hear.

“missed you too,” you assured him back, moan slipping past your lips as you felt his tip press against your folds; but he made no further movements.

your hips shook slightly, attempting to entice him ━ so needy despite having cum twice already. you just wanted him. all of him.

his hand moved up your back, tangling in your hair and creating a makeshift pony tail ━ one he tugged on immediately, your head snapping up.

“what did i say earlier? about using your words?” lando leant forward, lips grazing your ear; cock pressed against your entrance, causing you to cry out.

your body was overstimulated, tired; tired of his teasing. out of practice to predict his wants.

“want you to fuck me,” you whined quickly, rushing your words out as your hips pressed backwards. “need you lan, please,” you whimpered; sounding oh so desperate lando couldn’t possibly deny you.

he entered you without any more warning, bottoming out as your walls wrapped around him; your gasps intertwining as you gripped the counter below you.

the cool surface against your front did little to cool you down, moaning at the feeling of being so full. full of him again, after so long.

too long.

“always take me so well,” lando grunted in your ear; giving you a few moments to adjust before he was dropping your hair and standing up straight ━ hands finding your hips now.

his thrusts were harsh, rough and deep; not too slow or too fast, ensuring you felt every inch of him as your aching cunt squeezed him.

every move had your body jolting, moans escaping you; the counter and lando the only reason your legs were able to stay upright.

“so-so good,” you stumbled out, eyes rolling back as your body fell limp, unable to process the pleasure you were feeling. what you’d been deprived of and craving.

the driver too was losing himself in the feeling, head thrown back as he moved in and out of you ━ sounds of skin slapping filling up the large and empty space.

it was a mutual feeling, as to why the fuck this didn’t happen sooner. how on earth you two had been in such close proximity throughout the months and not gotten to this point yet.

safe to say keeping your distance now would be difficult.

lando felt the need to be closer, as if he needed more of you despite having you already at his mercy.

his hand found your neck with ease, wrapping around your throat and guiding your head up ━ causing you to stand up right, back against his chest.

he didn’t apply pressure, yet, but just the feeling of his large hand wrapped around the base of your neck had your legs feeling weaker; split open on his cock meaning lando’s body was the only thing holding you up now.

“feel good?” lando’s question was just him chasing praise, knowing you were fucked stupid; but he couldn’t help but want to remind you just who was the reason you could barely form sentences.

you nodded as much as you could in his hold. always nodding, he could ask or say anything and you’d find a way to say yes.

“only i can make you feel this good hm? only i can make you cum?” lando didn’t stop running his mouth, basking in the fact it was him that had the tears spilling out of your eyes. a sense of pride washing over him.

you choked out a yes, his thrusts having only gotten faster ━ and when his hand applied pressure to your neck you were almost certain you were in heaven.

“so perfect, so fucking perfect for me baby,” lando grunted in praise; and the kiss he pressed to your shoulder blade was a vast contrast to the treatment of your cunt.

it really was too much, the few tears and whimpers made that clear to lando; you were only moments away from cumming again and the thought alone had his own high dawning on him.

“come on angel, cum on my cock. cum for me,” he was speaking in your ear again; and you practically screamed as your third orgasm hit ━ body falling limp in his hold.

the way your walls squeezed him had him cumming with you, groaning as his forehead rested on your shoulder ━ erratic breaths filling the room as he stilled inside you.

all his touches were suddenly delicate, pulling out of you as he moved you to lean against the counter, still holding you up slightly as you caught your breath.

it was a comfortable silence, his hands ghosting over your waist as you pressed your eyes shut for a few moments.

you’d expected some sort of regret. an immediate now what? for one of you to panic or flee.

but instead, neither of you wanted the moment to end.

“want to join me for a shower?” lando broke the silence, a half smile that had you feeling an odd sense of relief.

one he felt too when you smiled right back, and nodded in agreement.

he’d chuckled, you would even go as far as to say he was grinning; hands grasping your thighs and picking you up with ease, carrying you off towards the bathroom.

when your friends returned you had been on the sofa, lando out by the pool ━ strategically placed to avoid suspicion, already under the assumption someone would’ve brought up the fact it happened to be you two who stayed back today.

chatter filled the room immediately, lando trudging in to greet everyone. you having stayed seated, purely because you didn’t trust your legs.

“burnt cookies y/n?” max had spoke across the room; having been first to stumble upon the overdone batch sat on the kitchen island you’d spent the last 15 minutes sanitising.

your cheeks flushed, purely because you could sense lando’s eyes burning into you.

you could picture the cocky smirk plastered on his face.

“yeah. my bad,” you laughed sheepishly.

and you were glad to be the only one paying attention when lando passed the back of the couch, finger grazing your shoulder as he did so.

“my bad,” he corrected; your eyes meeting his smug ones in passing.

━━

a/n: did y’all miss my shitty endings???

anyways idk what this is but here it is

unedited atm so apologies xox

as always appreciate feedback so so much, love u all and hope u enjoy 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

[peachsayshi]

(minors / blank / ageless blogs dni)

their past relationships, and how it hurt them:

gojo - was used for his status, his money, his power. he’s a pretty trinket to wave around, a commodity. objectified by his past lover, who he showered with love hoping for an ounce of return but never received it. he was begging for love, hoping it would come but it never did. he had to walk away - he was losing his mind. it was the only time he saw his lover fight for him. plead and cry for him. tell him they loved him. but he knew it wasn’t for him. it was because of everything else they would lose in the process.

geto - saw how they fell out of love with him. when his walls crumbled down and they finally felt the cracks on this romantic’s heart. he told himself being vulnerable would make the relationship stronger, but instead he saw the warmth leave their eyes. he’s irreparable, he thinks. too damaged for anything true. he showed no emotion when they said that he was complicated, when they didn’t have the patience to understand him wholeheartedly. after that, he swore he would never reveal his weaknesses again. he would never be naive with his love - and so he’ll keep it to himself.

nanami & higuruma - knows that their commitment is their love. that’s what they believed and because of their devotion, they trusted too blindly. when their lover betrayed them by carrying on an affair so deep into their relationship (by then they were either engaged or married) they were completely taken aback; shocked, and panicked over what they possibly could have done wrong. they were told that they were too cold, and too analytical in a relationship. that there was no passion or fire. they never saw themselves as rigid, never considered that their genuine love would be the reason why everything fell apart.

choso - he knew it wasn’t working; his former lover was different and he couldn’t fit in their world no matter how he tried. he was the thrill, the escape, the outlet that they needed for a taste of danger. choso simply couldn’t handle the thought of walking away. they claimed they loved him but he’s never felt more alone and would rather this than the latter. his brothers would tell him it shouldn’t be this complicated, and he struggled coming to terms with that. walking away was heartbreaking, and he was left wondering if he might ever experience something real with somebody who mattered.

toji - had love, which makes it so painful. the feeling coexisted with his every need, like the air he breathes and the water he drinks. she was his everything, his world, and his happiness. tragedy tore them apart, an illness that neither of them could see. he fought against the fates, screamed at the heavens above for trying to steal what rightfully belonged to him. and in the end, he lost the battle. he was left with only grief and memories. a broken heart that would never heal the same again.

sukuna - was told he was hard to love. he never claimed to be a saint but he didn’t consider himself a brute or a beast either. navigating romance wasn’t his strong suit, but it’s not like he wasn’t willing to put in the effort. that he wasn’t willing to try. however, nothing was ever enough. nothing he ever did seemed to work. every attempt blew up in his face, so he eventually just stopped trying. what was the point anyway, if he was difficult to love? he might as well stop pretending like he deserves it.

[joonie-beanie]

A Dragon's Constitution | [Neuvillette x Reader]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’m real. Yes, I’m here.”

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

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

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

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

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

You cock an eyebrow at him.

“What kind of change?”

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

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

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

…

Huh?

“Here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...did he consent to this?”

Wriothesley smiles, loving how smart you are.

“Not yet, but he will.”

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

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

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

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

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

Wriothesley sighs.

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

You grin, holding your head high.

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

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

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

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

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

Which is fine. He loves a good challenge.

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

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

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

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

“Iudex Neuvillette, he…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pleased to meet you,” you simply say. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright then, time to break out the big guns.

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

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

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

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

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

Both men look your way. You smile.

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

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

“Good! Glad that’s settled.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Now, what can I assist you with?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Surprised, Neuvillette puts down the paper in his hand.

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

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

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

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

“I'll have to keep that in mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

“You may go home for the day.”

You blink, looking around for the time.

“...will you continue working?”

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

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

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

“When should I come tomorrow? 8am?”

“9am will be fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

And really, who would pass up that offer?

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

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

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

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

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

“Alright,” you respond. “Good luck.”

He cocks an eyebrow at your sentiment.

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

“Nonetheless, thank you.”

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

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

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

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

And he seems to be…for the most part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it possible that you’re sick?”

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

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

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

A book on the history of the Dragon Authorities.

…huh.

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

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

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

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

You jump to your feet.

“Neuvillette—?!”

“Leave.”

There’s an edge to his typically calm voice.

“What—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A scent that he wants to chase after.

He closes his eyes, stopping his train of thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you not to return here.”

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

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

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

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

“I sent you away for a reason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You unconsciously grip the door knob tighter.

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

“Me,” he responds.

His words send electricity up your spine.

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

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

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

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

A rut.

The word hits you like a train.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Run.

Run.

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

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

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

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

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

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

In fact, it will probably be painful.

Your grip on the door handle tightens painfully.

You’re scared, but—

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you leave, you—”

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

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

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

Neuvillette huffs. His breath is hot on your skin.

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

The almighty Iudex—helpless to fight his instincts.

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

“This is wrong of me…”

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

A quiet laugh leaves you.

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

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

And, of course, it does.

He takes a deep breath—

“Thank you—”

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

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

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

He is absolutely going to swallow you whole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pries your legs apart. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The first taste of his meal.

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

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

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

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

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

You keep forgetting that he's a dragon.

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

You've never felt anything akin to this before.

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

His sharp eyes slide open, meeting yours. 

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

Then, his tongue starts to move.

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

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

He can't stop. 

He bullies your g-spot incessantly.

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

You can't control yourself.

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

“Monsieur…Neuvillette, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation has you sharply intaking a breath.

“Neuvillette, you're—”

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

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

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

Finally, you're bare beneath him. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You trust that he won't hurt you.

“Ah—!” 

He slips a second finger inside of you.

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

It's all so much. 

“Neuvillette—”

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

Neuvillette very nearly growls at the sensation.

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

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

Instantly, you lose it.

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

“Neuvillette—I’m gonna—”

“Cum.” 

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

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

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

Then, he finally relents.

Sitting back, Neuvillette takes a moment to survey you. 

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

You’re ready.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…oh.

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

Speaking of—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drunk with desire, he actually growls.

“I—”

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette makes a happy, yet somewhat inhuman noise.

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

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

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

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

You’ve never felt so full.

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

…then, he begins to move his hips.

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

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

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

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

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

Ah…you’re going insane.

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

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

“Ahh…”

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

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

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

And what he sees makes his heart skip a beat.

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

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

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

He’s getting close.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did so well,” he tells you. 

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

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

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

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

“However…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pushing the door open, he heads inside.

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

The sound of a throat being cleared comes from inside.

“Come in.”

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

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

“Y/N?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

The office sits in silence for a moment. 

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

Wriothesley’s eyes scan over him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Neuvillette responds immediately.

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

Both men smile.

“She’s a good assistant, isn’t she?”

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

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

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

Wriothesley hums.

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

Neuvillette cocks an eyebrow.

“Really?”

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

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

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

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

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

Understanding passes between them.

“Hmm…I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

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

Kneeling down beside you, Wriothesley pets your hair.

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

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

“I shall hope for the same.”

[renmorris]

I know fanon is stupid and takes on a life of its own

but I really don’t understand how other Jean fans just don’t…deal with the fact that he leaves Harry to die in the bad end.* Like do people just not know about the bad end? What’s happening here? I don’t get why you’d just toss out what makes a character interesting and replace it with a generic personality from a network police procedural my grandma would watch

like Jean isn’t loyal. he’s unpleasant and cruel. this is what makes him actually interesting and is the role he fills in the story as an antagonistic bigot. he’s the kind of person who doesn’t rush to his partner's side when he’s shot but goes to the guy he was working with to get more ammunition to have him fired. he's self centered enough to prioritize his own mental illness as an excuse above the wellbeing of the civilians around him.

his victim complex is fascinating and hugely realistic to cops irl! he’s a total prick to Judit and Trant! he is frequently saying things that betray his right wing leanings, calling Trant a lefty dink, saying the liberals are going to come down on them for the piss jacket, or complaining about how 'no one' gets married in Revachol despite that being demonstrably untrue.

idk idk he’s just a very vivid and realistic person and watching that kind of guy get ground down and sanded off until there’s nothing left so he can be a likable woobie who sticks out like a sore thumb in a cast of complicated characters is depressing

*unless Those Types of fans are trying to justify it by saying Harry deserves it for (having the audacity to be disabled or completely made up reason)

[i-turned-into-the-stone]

[Commissioned] Sponsor's Choice: YooA Oh My Girl

Tags: Dubcon, gangbang, anal, vaginal insertion, double penetration, face fucking, cum in mouth, a lot of creampies, cum in ass

Word Count: 8,653

A/N: It's my first time writing gangbang smut with complete characters, so if things get a little confusing, I'm sorry. I hope the nicknames I came up with for the OCs aren't too weird and fit the whole concept. And thanks for trusting me with this commission. I really hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

YooA's hunger for solo success had grown stronger after her latest successful comeback. She repeatedly visited the CEO's office, demanding more solo events, but his response remained the same - he wanted her to focus on group activities with the other members of OMG.

While YooA didn't mind participating in group activities, she despised the CEO's habit of sending the group to pointless events. She craved something that would elevate both OMG's fame and her own status as the face of the group.

Determined to demand something more worthwhile, YooA stormed into the CEO's office with her heels clicking against the marble floor. Her skintight dress accentuated her curves flawlessly, catching the CEO's attention.

"CEO-nim, I've been waiting for this meeting," YooA leaned forward, revealing ample cleavage spilling out of her dress. 

"OMG has been doing exceptionally well, but I feel like I'm not getting the recognition I deserve. These group activities are a waste of my time. I want something that will skyrocket my solo fame."

The CEO, a greedy man with a glint in his eyes, leaned back in his chair and eyed YooA with a hidden purpose. 

"I understand your frustration, YooA-ya. But group activities are crucial for building your collective image."

YooA scoffed, flipping her long hair over her shoulder. "Collective image, my ass. I'm the true star of the group, and everyone knows it. I want events that will solidify my position as the backbone of OMG."

The CEO chuckled, intertwining his fingers. "Well, I might have something special for someone like you, after all." 

He reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black envelope, handing it to YooA. "You've been invited to a private masquerade party for VIPs. You'll be the opening act, and then you will have a  special performance just for them."

YooA accepted the envelope, her eyes glistening with excitement.  "A masquerade party, huh?" she said, her fingers tracing the embossed lettering on the envelope. 

The CEO leaned forward, his gaze stern. "Remember, the identities of the VIP guests will be hidden behind masks. You'll need to be on your best behavior. Impress them, Yoo Shiah, and who knows, you might secure some profitable sponsorships."

YooA nodded, envisioning herself as the center of attention. "Of course, CEO-nim. I won't let you down. I won't let this opportunity slip away." She examined the envelope, noting the date and location.

The CEO rose from his chair, signaling the end of their conversation. "Excellent. Consult your manager to handle all the preparations and training. I expect nothing less than perfection from you, YooA."

As YooA turned to leave, the CEO chuckled to himself, his eyes gleaming with interest. 

"Let's see if a greedy woman like you can handle more than you've asked for," he murmured, watching her hips sway as she exited the room.

Back at the dorm, the other members greeted YooA with joyous cheers and congratulations upon hearing about the prestigious masquerade party. 

The girls quickly organized a small celebration, showering YooA with well wishes and excitement. Although they refrained from consuming alcohol to ensure YooA remained sober for her rehearsals and practices, the members still reveled in the festive atmosphere. 

The following day, YooA's intense preparation and practice for the masquerade event commenced. She approached the challenge with high spirits, determined to shine and secure the lucrative sponsorship deals promised by the CEO. 

The choreographer pushed her to her limits, but YooA met every challenge with enthusiasm, flawlessly executing each step and vocal flourish.Finally, the day of the party arrived, and YooA's stomach fluttered with nervous anticipation. 

The stylists meticulously attended to her appearance, adorning her in a shimmering evening gown that accentuated her curves. She wore an elegant mask that concealed the upper half of her face. 

Taking one last look at her reflection, YooA took a deep breath. A confident smirk graced her lips as she stepped out of the door of the company and into the awaiting black limousine that would transport her to the exclusive venue.

As the elongated vehicle glided through the discreet back entrance of the lavish mansion, her eyes widened in awe at the extravagant display of wealth. 

Towering columns, sparkling fountains, and meticulously manicured gardens surrounded the impressive estate, a clear symbol of its inhabitants' opulence and status.

The process of verifying her identity through the invitation card at the entrance took a few minutes, but soon enough, a staff member guided YooA and her managers to the exclusive waiting room. 

Even this private space exuded luxury, with plush velvet couches, a fully stocked bar, and expansive floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the magnificent grounds.

With an hour left before her performance, YooA seized the opportunity to warm up her vocal cords and loosen her body. The mansion didn't appear too crowded, as only the elite VIP guests had received invitations. 

YooA appreciated the relative tranquility, relishing the calm before the storm. Glancing at her reflection in the mirror, YooA admired how the shimmering gown and elegant mask transformed her appearance. 

"Time to leave a lasting impression," she whispered to herself, a surge of excitement coursing through her veins.

An hour flew by in a flash, and before YooA knew it, she was standing behind a curtain on the makeshift stage in the massive hall. The female host's elegant voice echoed through the speakers, officially kicking off the exclusive masquerade party.

Summoning her courage, YooA stepped onto the stage, her shiny outfit catching the warm spotlight glow. Her performance was on point, hitting every note and nailing every dance move with precision and grace. 

The VIP guests below roared with applause, clearly enthralled by her captivating presence. Little did YooA know, the real audience was hidden on the second-floor balconies, their identities concealed behind ornate animal masks. 

Their intense, hungry gazes weren't focused on her singing or dancing - they were fixated on her slender, swaying body, mentally undressing her with each alluring movement.

These VIPs couldn't care less about the quality of her performance; their only interest was how they could soon have this gorgeous starlet fulfilling their wicked desires.

YooA drank in the roaring applause, her performance coming to a triumphant close. 

Every step and melody had been executed flawlessly, and the VIP audience had lapped it up eagerly. 

Satisfied with her work, she made her way back to the waiting room to slip into something more comfortable while she awaited the next performance.

Returning to the plush and private space, YooA swiftly shed her gown and slipped into a form-fitting mini-dress.

"Phew, that was intense!" she exclaimed, fanning herself as she flopped onto one of the velvety couches.

Just then, a venue staff member approached, signaling for YooA and her team to follow.  "Your table is ready. We've prepared a private dining area with top-notch food and drinks for you to enjoy."

YooA's interest was piqued. She turned to her managers. "What do you guys say?”

Her managers exchanged a glance before shrugging. "Well, we're not about to turn down good food and drinks. Let's go for it!" her stylist replied with a grin.

As they were escorted to the exclusive dining area, YooA's eyes widened at the magnificent spread laid out before them - platters of exquisite sushi, succulent Kobe beef, and bottles of the finest champagne. 

"Wow, they're really going all out," she murmured, already reaching for a glass.

Taking a deep, appreciative sip, YooA sank into her chair, relishing the moment. "This is the life, huh? I could definitely get used to this kind of treatment."

YooA was totally digging every bite and sip, relishing the chance to go all out on the top-notch grub and drinks. As she shot the breeze with her crew, it hit her that none of them had a clue about the real deal behind this posh masquerade bash. They were just following the CEO's lead.

But YooA didn't sweat it. She was soaking up the VIP treatment, feeling confident that her killer performance had blown the minds of the guests. She sighed with contentment, giving her champagne glass a final top-up.

Before long, her managers rolled up, giving her the heads up that it was time to slip into something special for her big show. YooA nodded, setting her glass down and making her way back to the waiting room.

When she laid eyes on the skin-tight, revealing gray dress laid out for her, she raised an eyebrow. The outfit clung to every curve, her perky rack was front and center, and the skirt was so short that her ass was practically peeking out.

"Is this... a bit much, don't you think?" YooA quizzed, running her hands over the clingy fabric. But then she shook her head, telling herself to quit being a buzzkill. "Forget it. I just need to focus on putting on a mind-blowing performance."

Slipping into the revealing dress, YooA took a deep breath and made her way back out to the stage, swaying her hips with a whole lot of confidence. Her crew had her back, so what could possibly go wrong?

YooA strolled through the lavish corridors of the mansion, guided by her entourage, until they reached a pair of grand double doors. With a graceful entrance, she stepped through, finding herself on a luxurious rooftop terrace, the night breeze teasing her exposed skin.

In the center of the open space, a group of masked men were chilling, their fancy outfits slightly rumpled. A fox, a rabbit, an owl, a bear, and a snake - each rocking an intricate animal mask that concealed their true identities. They lounged around an oval table, drinks, snacks, and desserts spread out before them.

As the staff who led her there bowed and exited, the door clicking shut behind her, the masked men rose to their feet, their voices charged with excitement.

"Welcome, welcome, Miss YooA!" purred the guy in the fox mask, stepping forward. "Come, have a seat with us." He motioned to the plush couch at the center of their circle.

The others chimed in, introducing themselves with nicknames based on their masks. "I'm Mr. Fox," the first dude announced, "and these fellas here are Mr. Rabbit, Mr. Owl, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Snake."

A shiver danced down YooA's spine as they guided her towards the couch, their predatory gazes devouring her with every glance. Something about this whole setup felt off, but she pushed aside her growing unease.

Putting on her best smile, she settled onto the couch amidst the masked men, acutely aware of how her short, curve-hugging dress captured most of their attention. "Pleasure to meet you all," she replied, silently praying that this "special performance" would go off without a hitch.

YooA mustered a coy smile as she settled into the plush couch, encircled by the masked men. "I'm here to put on a show for you tonight," she said, trying to exude confidence. "I hope you'll enjoy what I've got in store."

Mr. Snake, his eyes gleaming behind the reptilian mask, leaned in and poured her a glass of luscious, red wine. "Just relax, Miss YooA," he rumbled in a smooth, velvety voice. "We already take pleasure in your company.

Mr. Bear, a towering figure in his furry disguise, cleared his throat. "So, Miss YooA, how's the idol life treating you? Any thrilling plans on the horizon?" He extended a plate of mouthwatering indulgent truffles.

YooA accepted the wine and the delectable treats, doing her best to appear at ease as the men engaged her in polite small talk. She knew her mission was to please them, so she played along with their questions and feigned interest.

The men continued to ply her with drinks and appetizers, their masked gazes never straying from her figure. YooA felt their hungry eyes roaming over her exposed skin, and she fought the urge to squirm away. No matter what, she had to keep them satisfied.

As the conversation and laughter carried on, YooA felt her body growing warm, and her head started to spin. But she kept up her practiced smile, determined not to let anything ruin this golden opportunity the CEO had given her.

Unbeknownst to the young idol, the men had been discreetly spiking her drinks and snacks with drugs. They exchanged knowing glances as the substances started to take effect, allowing them to shed their polite masks.

Mr. Snake got up from his seat, moving behind the couch where YooA was seated. He placed his hands on her bare shoulders, sending a shiver through her drugged-out body. "Miss YooA, my dear, I hear you've been looking for some... sponsorship opportunities," he purred, his voice oozing with false concern.

YooA's face lit up at his words. “Oh, yes! The CEO said this could be my chance if I do well,” she blurted and leaned back into his touch a little bit, totally unaware of the predatory glimmer in Mr. Snake's eyes.

The other guys snickered, shifting in their seats, their pants getting uncomfortably tight as they ogled YooA's defenseless form. The time had finally come – they were going to make sure this greedy idol got way more than she bargained for.

Mr. Snake leaned in close, his breath tickling YooA's ear. "My dear, we're so pleased to hear of your eagerness to perform for us tonight," he purred, his grip tightening on her shoulders. "But you see, your performance will be... a bit different than what you had in mind."

YooA's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean? I'm ready to give it my all for you all." She moved to stand, but Mr. Snake suddenly pressed down on her shoulders, forcing her back onto the couch.

"Ah, ah, ah," he chuckled darkly. "You misunderstand. We want you to become our doll tonight - to do with as we please." Before YooA could even react, two of the other masked men moved in, roughly grabbing hold of her arms.

The third man, Mr. Bear, popped open a full bottle of wine. "First things first, let's get you nice and wet, hmm?" he growled, shoving the bottle towards YooA's face. 

Mr. Snake held her head in place as the man forced the bottle's neck between her lips, tilting it to pour the sweet, intoxicating liquid down her throat. YooA choked and sputtered, but the men showed no mercy, determined to break her down and make her their compliant plaything.

YooA's eyes went wide with panic as the pungent wine was forced down her throat. She choked harder but Mr. Snake's iron grip on her head kept her in place. The liquid burned as it went down, and she could feel it sloshing in her stomach, making her head spin even more.

Mr. Fox, who held her other arm, suddenly gripped her neck tightly, cutting off her ability to cough or expel the wine. "Drink it all, you greedy slut," he hissed. "We want you nice and sweet for what's to come."

YooA whimpered helplessly, the wine spilling from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, drenching the front of her already-revealing dress. On her other side, Mr. Owl began roughly groping her thigh, spreading her legs apart. 

"Look at those pretty little panties," he cooed, his fingers hooking into the lace waistband. "This is going to be fun."

YooA tried to struggle, to beg for them to stop, but the men's grips and the drugs coursing through her veins left her utterly powerless. All she could do was pray that this nightmare would end soon.

As the bottle drained, nearly half the wine now coating YooA's face and dress, Mr. Bear finally pulled it from her mouth. YooA coughed, gasping desperately for air.

"W-What... What are you doing!?" she croaked, eyes wide with fear and confusion.

Mr. Rabbit chuckled. "Why, giving you the sponsorship opportunity of a lifetime, my dear." He reached down, grasping her foot and lifting it off the ground. "Just be a good little doll and behave for us."

With a swift motion, he removed her high heel, exposing her toned, glistening leg. Mr. Bear grinned, pouring the remainder of the wine down her smooth flesh. 

"Look at these gorgeous legs," Mr. Bear grinned as he poured the remaining wine down YooA's leg, the liquid trailing from her toes up to her trembling thigh. "Look at this, fellas, the perfect canvas for us to play on."

Next to him, Mr. Owl suddenly yanked up the hem of YooA's dress, further exposing her lacy panties. The idol let out a strangled scream, but the men only laughed.

"Aw, don't be shy, sweetheart," Mr. Bear crooned, pausing to lightly trace the bottle's rim along her inner thigh. "We're just getting started."

On YooA's leg, Mr. Rabbit unzipped his trousers, pulling out his hard, throbbing cock. "Mmm, feels good to be free," he groaned, rubbing the underside against the sole of her wine-dampened foot. 

YooA whimpered, her body trembling as the men's depraved touches sent waves of revulsion through her.

YooA cried out in terror as Mr. Bear slowly traced the bottle's rim along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, inching ever closer to her covered sex. "Please, stop! I'll behave, I promise, just don't hurt me!" she pleaded.

Mr. Bear chuckled. "We aren't going to hurt you. We're going to make you feel so good." 

With that, Mr. Owl yanked her leg wider, while on her other side Mr. Rabbit continued rubbing his throbbing cock against her wine-dampened foot. 

From behind the sofa, Mr. Fox suddenly wrapped his arm around YooA's neck, squeezing her perky breasts through the clingy fabric of her dress. "That's it, struggle for us, little doll.”. 

YooA whimpered as Mr. Bear's free hand moved to the hem of her panties, slowly pulling them aside to expose her slick pink pussy. With agonizing slowness, he pressed the bottle's neck against her sensitive flesh, gradually pushing it past her delicate folds.

“So tight and wet for us already," the burly man bellowed. "This is going to be fun."

Despite her desperate pleas, YooA felt the unyielding glass of the wine bottle slowly breaching her tight entrance. Inch by inch, the thick, rigid neck disappeared into her pussy, delicate folds clinging to like rubber.

A shameful deep moan escaped the idol’s lips as waves of unwanted burning pleasure began to wash over her. Disgusted with her body's betrayal, she realized these guys must have drugged her with some kind of aphrodisiac drug. She thrashed her head back and forth, but the intensely pleasurable sensations only seemed to amplify.

"No, no, it's too deep!" she cried out, fixing a pleading, tear-filled gaze on Mr. Bear. "Please, take it out!"

But the burly man simply grinned, his piggish eyes gleaming with sadistic delight as he ignored her cries. Gripping the base of the bottle, he began to slowly, mercilessly thrust it in and out of her wet pussy.

“Look at that," his voice thick with lust. "Our little doll is enjoying herself more than she wants to admit."

YooA let out a wretched sob, her hips involuntarily rocking against the relentless intrusion. She was powerless to stop the rising tide of illicit, drug-fueled arousal, her treacherous body betraying her even as her mind reeled in utter disgust.

YooA's back arched sharply, her toes curling as the crushing tide of shameful pleasure rolled through her. She could feel a tight, insistent knot building deep within her core, slowly unraveling and flowing downwards towards her aching core.

The wine bottle sloshed and squelched as Mr. Bear continued his relentless, punishing thrusts, the thick glass stretching and filling her in ways she had never imagined. Beside her, Mr. Rabbit groaned in ecstasy, his hips bucking as he rubbed his throbbing cock against the sole of her foot.

"Ungh, fuck... so good," the masked man rasped, his voice dripping with lust. "I'm gonna cum all over your pretty little toes, slut..."

YooA sobbed bitterly, her body betraying her as the sensations built to an unbearable crescendo. She tried to resist, to hold back the rising wave of her own impending orgasm, but it was a futile battle. When Mr. Owl suddenly rolled her swollen, sensitive clit with his thumb, her dam burst.

"Aaahh! Noooo..." she wailed, her voice cracking as her entire body convulsed. Waves of shattering, drug-fueled ecstasy crashed over her, her pussy fluttering wildly around the unyielding bottle. "It's too much... Ooohh, God, it feels so good...!"

The men erupted in raucous laughter, their cruel triumph echoing across the open rooftop as they reveled in YooA's complete and utter surrender.

Still in a dazed, drug-hazed state, YooA felt the wine bottle abruptly pulled from her sensitive pussy with a ‘pop’. Before she could react, Mr. Bear roughly seized a handful of her hair, yanking her forward and down onto her knees in front of the couch.

The other masked men had already freed their throbbing, rigid cocks, lining up before the helpless idol. Mr. Rabbit, who had already been on the edge, shoved his shaft straight into YooA's open, gasping mouth.

"Ungh, fuck yeah!" he groaned, bucking his hips to bury himself deep in her throat.

YooA gagged and choked around his intrusion, her makeup streaming down her face as he ruthlessly face-fucked her. On either side, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl grabbed her hands, guiding them to wrap around their own straining cocks.

"That's it, jerk us off, baby," Mr. Fox snarled, his hips jerking as she stroked him. "Show us what those pretty hands can do."

YooA moaned in despair, her entire being flooded with shame at her helplessness but her treacherous drugged body craved the overwhelming sensations, and she found herself involuntarily pleasuring the depraved men surrounding her.

Mr. Rabbit let out a hoarse roar as his climax overtook him, his hips stuttering as he unloaded a thick torrent of cum directly down YooA's throat. The stunned idol gagged and choked, but the ecstatic man held her head in place, forcing her to swallow every last drop.

"You filthy slut, drink it all down!" he ordered, finally pulling his cockfree with a wet 'pop.' 

Beside her, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl let out twin groans, their faces contorting in bliss as they coated YooA's delicate features with their pent-up release. Thick ropes of pearly white cum splattered across her flushed cheeks, dripping down her chin and nose.

Despite her revulsion, YooA found herself oddly aroused. The aphrodisiac still coursing through her veins had her body aching to be used and defiled. Almost without thinking, she slowly licked her lips, desperately trying to lap up the men's fresh seed.

“You love the taste, don't you?" Mr. Owl chuckled, tracing a finger through the cum on her cheek and pushing it into her eager mouth. "What a depraved whore you are."

YooA moaned around his digit, sucking it clean as her hazy gaze silently begged for more of their degrading attention.

"Well now, it seems our doll is ready for the main event," Mr. Snake who had been chilling since earlier rose from the couch. With a wave of his hand, the others seized YooA, hoisting her up onto the table at the center of the group.

The cool polished surface kissed her bare skin as the men spread her legs in a wide, lewd stance. YooA whimpered, fresh tears stinging her eyes as she took in the sight of the men lining up before her, their thick cocks jutting out in unabashed lust.

Mr. Bear stepped up first, his massive member twitching in anticipation. Grabbing YooA's thighs, he leaned in until the swollen head of his cock brushed against her sopping entrance. 

"Look at how desperate your pussy is," dragging his length through her slick folds before abruptly plunging himself fully inside with one savage thrust.

YooA's mouth fell open in a silent scream of mingled pain and illicit pleasure. Mr. Bear set a rapid pace, his huge cock filling and stretching her so completely. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Rabbit clambered up onto the table, straddling YooA's face. "Open up, slut," he commanded, smearing the glistening head of his cock across her gasping lips. 

With no other choice, YooA obeyed, her throat constricting as Rabbit fed his thick length into her mouth. Above her, the musty scent of his crotch flooded her senses, making her head spin.

The sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and the men's grunts of exertion filled the air as YooA was ruthlessly pounded from both ends. A shamed part of her reveled in being used as their depraved cock sleeve.

Suddenly, Mr. Bear threw back his head, letting loose a feral roar. His cock swelled within YooA's walls, giving her womb a thick, scalding creampie as he reached his rapturous peak. 

Even as his climax tapered off, he continued to grind into the battered idol, until at last he pulled free with an obscene popping sound.

"Who's next for her greedy tight holes?" the hulking man grinned, patting YooA's cum-soaked pussy.

Without waiting for an answer, Mr. Snake took Mr. Bear's place, immediately pounding her deep and hard.  

"Mmmpphh!!" YooA protested, her words dissolving into a gargled whimper as Mr. Rabbit's thick length invaded her throat. He seized a fistful of her hair, using it as a handle to roughly fuck her face.

Each punishing thrust drove his cock deeper, the bulbous head visibly distending the tender column of YooA's neck. She gagged and choked around the intrusion, drool and pre-cum leaking from the corners of her stretched lips.

"Oh fuck yeah," Rabbit groaned, his tempo increasing to a brutal, piston-like rhythm. On either side, Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox seized YooA's hands, guiding her fingers around their stiffening shafts. 

The lewd sound of Rabbit's sac slapping against YooA's chin mingled with the wet squelches of Mr. Snake's hips smacking into her womb. Tears streamed from the idol's eyes as she struggled for air between Rabbit's thrusts.

Each time Mr. Rabbit bottomed out, his cock buried to the root, a faint bulge could be seen traveling up the taut flesh of YooA's abdomen. Her abused folds were a mess of stretched and frayed petals, soaked in a mixture of her feminine juices and the copious seed pumped into her by the men.

Yet through the pain and degradation, a part of YooA's traitorous body still craved sensation. Her raw, aching clit throbbed hotly, as if begging for attention.

Mr. Snake relished the sight of YooA's tormented, cock-stuffed face, gleefully adding to her violation. As he savagely pummeled her spasming cunt, he reached down with his free hand, locating her swollen, pulsing pearl. 

He roughly pinched the sensitive bud between his fingers. "You may hate what we're doing, but your slut of a body loves being used as a fucktoy!"

YooA's muffled wails of protest dissolved into a strangled cry of masochistic ecstasy as Mr. Snake rolled and tugged at her clit in time with his ferocious thrusts. Her slick canal clenched and fluttered wantonly around his invading cock.  

On her face, Mr. Rabbit redoubled his brutal face-fucking, slamming his entire length down her throat again and again. YooA's eyes rolled back, her petite frame wracked with convulsions as her first explosive orgasm crashed over her.

Cunt juices gushed from her abused hole, drenching Mr. Snake's pistoning cock and puddling on the table beneath her. The sensations were so intense, so all-consuming that YooA nearly blacked out from the pleasure.   

Her scream of release was muffled by Rabbit's cock, but it only seemed to spur the men on further. Mr. Owl and Mr. Fox rapidly stroked their cocks with YooA's limp hands, their shafts now achingly hard and ready to ravage her well-used cunt next.

As soon as Mr. Snake pulled free, they eagerly lined up on either side of the quivering idol's hips, their cockheads smearing through the mess of her femcum and Mr. Snake’s still-oozing seed. 

Mr. Rabbit unleashed a satisfied scream, yanking YooA's hair with force as his climax arrived. His cock swelled and pulsed, blasting thick ropes of hot jism straight down the poor idol's rawly abused throat.

YooA squirmed and thrashed, nearly choking on the copious load flooding her mouth and nasal passages before Rabbit finally relented, pulling free. The stunned woman collapsed back onto the table, gasping as Rabbit's seed spilled from her gaping lips.

Wasting no time, Mr. Fox immediately seized his opportunity. He clambered up onto the table, not even giving YooA a chance to catch her breath before shoving his rigid length past her gasping lips.

"Gggkkk!" she gurgled, frantically pushing against his thighs as his cock burrowed into her throat.

Mr. Fox grinned wickedly, basking in the delicious sight and sensation of her struggles. Meanwhile, Mr. Owl stepped between YooA's trembling legs. Leaning forward, he rammed his cock to the base inside her abused, cum-drenched cunt. 

YooA bucked and wailed around Fox's invading cock, her body quaking with unwanted ecstasy.

Not satisfied with her muffled protests, Mr. Owl snatched YooA's wrists, using her arms as levers to drive deeper into her velvet sheath on each thrust. The table beneath them shook and creaked from the pressure.

Mr. Fox matched Owl's brutal rhythm, jackhammering his rigid length into YooA's throat while his hands closed around her heaving breasts. With a few sharp tugs, the flimsy fabric of her dress gave way, exposing her firm tits.

Above her, Mr. Owl leered down, savoring the sight of their helpless little doll getting ruthlessly spit-roasted. There was no tenderness in their touches, only savage hunger being slaked by their violation of the degraded idol.

On the sidelines, Mr. Snake, Mr. Bear, and Mr. Rabbit looked on with smug joy, leisurely drinking beers and stroking their thickening cocks as they prepared for another round with YooA's battered form.

"Fuck, look at that slut getting the dicking she deserves," Mr. Snake sneered, giving his cock a few hard strokes. "These idols act so prim and innocent on stage, but they're all just cockcraving cumdumps underneath."

"This cheap piece of pussy won't even remember her own name by the time we're done with her," Mr. Bear grinned, downing another gulp of wine.

In the center of their lascivious attentions, YooA could only whimper and twitch as Mr. Owl bottomed out, giving one final thrust to bury his twitching cock as deep as it would go. With a growl, he emptied his load into her convulsing cunt.

The stunning idol's back arched, her glazed eyes rolling back as the hot torrent of cum flooding her already-stuffed womb triggered an intense climax. Her slender thighs trembled uncontrollably, her hands weakly clutching at the table beneath her.

At the same time, Mr. Fox grunted, slamming his balls on her nose and letting his own thick ropes of cum plaster YooA's tongue and throat. Her body heaving with sobs, she had no choice but to swallow the acrid offering, thick strands leaking from the corners of her mouth.

Once they'd drained the last spurts from their cocks, Mr. Fox and Mr. Owl pulled out, chuckling at the wrecked state they'd left the once proud idol in. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her smooth skin glazed with sweat. Both holes leaked a steady trickle of their combined spend.

Yet as she lay there, mewling and twitching from the overstimulation, her lust-addled body betrayed her anew as the men's hungry gazes roved over her trembling form. Their arousal was clear in the renewed stiffness of their cocks, YooA's degradation only stoking the fires of their insatiable debauchery.

The savage men weren't even close to satiating their debased hunger for YooA's broken body. With rough hands, they hauled her up from the table, dragging the limp idol over to the nearby sofa.

She offered no resistance, too overwhelmed by the sickening mixture of humiliation and unwanted ecstasy pulsing through her veins. Leering smiles creased their lust-twisted features as they shoved YooA face-down over the sofa's arm, leaving her ass lewdly presented in the air.

"Stay just like that, you worthless fuckpig," Mr. Fox barked, sinking one foot atop the back of YooA's head to grind her pretty face into the cushions.

Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit seized her wrists, wrenching her slender arms straight back in a brutal parody of the spreadeagle position. Helpless, YooA jerked as the remnants of her tattered dress were ripped away, leaving her nude body completely on display.

SMACK! SMACK! 

Stinging slaps blossomed color across her already-reddened ass cheeks as one of the men reared back to spank and spread her trembling rump. YooA cried out, her voice muffled against the sofa, her muscles tensing.

"Better keep her steady, boys," Mr. Snake chuckled, dribbling a line of thick lube down the crease bisecting YooA's ass toward her tight, puckered sphincter. "This little anal slut's gonna be thrashing like a bronco once I get my cock up that tight back door."

With an anticipatory grin, he gave his achingly stiff cock a few more lube-slick strokes before lining the bulbous head up against YooA's rear entrance. Without any further preamble, he gripped her hips and slowly leaned his weight forward, steadily breaching and widening her for the harsh sodomy to come.

"Hhnngghh!!" The strangled cry was torn from YooA's lips, muffled against the couch cushions beneath her face.

Mr. Snake's thick cock stretched her virgin sphincter unbearably wide, each agonizing inch spearing deeper into her unutilized back passage. She squirmed and thrashed against the men's restraining grips, the sinister laughs surrounding her only driving home her utter helplessness.

"Aww, what's the matter, slut?" sneered Mr. Rabbit from where he pinned one of YooA's arms. "I thought you idol whores were used to taking it up the ass from your sugar daddies."

"She's so goddamn tight!" grunted Snake through gritted teeth as he bottomed out, his pelvis smacking loudly against YooA's quivering asscheeks. "Fuck, this needy tight asshole is just begging to be ruined!"

He pulled back slightly, savoring the feverish clench of her rubbery ring before slamming his hips forward again, jackhammering YooA's unprepared rear with frenzied rabbit thrusts. 

Each vicious stroke drew a pained weeping, her face contorting in a rictus of torment that only seemed to inflame the men's sadistic urges further.

"Look at this bitch's face!" Bear cackled, wrenching YooA's neck back by the hair to expose her agonized expression to their lewd gazes. "She looks like she might actually cry!"

"Then give the whore something to really sob about," Fox growled, forcing his spit-slick cock past YooA's swollen, parted lips to gag her howls of distress once more.

Her lashes fluttered and mascara streamed from the corners of her eyes, decorating her rouged cheeks with blackened rivulets of overflowing tears. Yet there was no mercy to be found in Snake's vicious rutting, nor any escape from the renewed degradation being forced upon her by Fox's fat dick pistoning in and out of her throat.

YooA's entire body kept quivering, her tortured hole spasming around Mr. Snake's relentlessly pistoning cock until he slammed himself fully in. Ropes of fresh thick cum erupted from his twitching cock, flooding her ruined bowels with degrading spurts.

"Hnngghh!!" Snake groaned, his fingertips digging deep into the flesh of YooA's hips as he emptied his harrowing load. 

At the same time, Mr. Fox grinned and seized her disheveled brown hair in his fist before burying himself to the root. Another debased grunt, then the battered idol's mouth was filled with his rank, salty spend.

"Gkkhkk!!" she choked and gurgled, stringy ropes of Fox's ejaculate splattering over her tongue and cheeks until his orgasm subsided. She swallowed forcefully, her features glazed with a sheen of perspiration and streaked with mascara-stained tears.

Mr. Snake finally pulled free with a slick pop, leaving YooA's violated pucker gaping, the pearly ring stretched and swollen around the lewd cream pie slowly leaking from her abused chute. 

No longer needing to keep her steady, Bear and Rabbit released her arms, allowing her body to go limp. But there was no respite for the broken woman.

"Up you go, fuckdoll," Mr. Bear growled, hauling YooA up by her waist and throwing her shuddering form down atop the couch once more, on all fours. He wasted no time in mounting behind her, his thick cock spearing into her freshly-reamed asshole with one brutal thrust.

"AAAIIIEEE!!" The shriek tore from YooA's raw throat as Mr. Bear hammered her with savage abandon, his palm cracking off her ass cheeks. Yet it was quickly muffled as Mr. Owl seized her by the hair, wrenching her face back to glare into his smirking visage.  

"You want the juicy sponsorships, don't you slut?" he sneered, slapping his cock across her gasping lips. "Let's hear you fucking beg for them then.”

YooA's eyes rolled back, nearly catatonic from the degradation and mind-shattering sensations racking her abused form. But coherent words still managed to gurgle past her drool-slicked lips between Mr. Owl's facefucking strokes.

"P...Please... give me... your... sponsorsh-shipsss, s-sirs!" she whimpered subserviently between gags. "I'll d-do... anything!"

Mr. Rabbit snickered, palming his rock-hard cock as he dropped down onto the couch beneath YooA's swaying hips, aligning his cock beneath her cum-dribbling pussy.

"Like taking my thick cock into this loose, fucked-out hole, bitch?" he taunted, punctuating each crude word with a hard slap of his shaft across her splayed pussy lips. "Beg me for my fucking cum, you desperate cumslut!"

"P-Please... gkkkhh!!" YooA's desperate plea was immediately cut off as Mr. Owl shoved his thick cock between her lips, using her momentary vocalization as an excuse to gag her airway with his girth.

Her eyes bulged, spit and drool streaming down her chin as he face-fucked her roughly. Yet still she persisted, her words garbled and barely intelligible around the vicious throat-strokes.

"I... n-need... hnrrghh... your cummm!! G-give it... gkk... to meee!!" 

Beneath her, Mr. Rabbit and Mr. Bear snapped with twisted amusement at her degrading submission. In one harsh thrust, Rabbit buried his entire cock inside YooA's sloppy, cum-drenched cunt, her raw flesh offering barely any resistance.

At the same instant, Bear doubled down on ravaging her thoroughly ruined asshole, his hips smacking loudly against her reddened cheeks on each stroke. The dual intrusions stretched YooA's petite frame cruelly taut, impaled by rampant cocks brutally spitting her worn holes.

"Keep begging, bitch!" Mr. Rabbit jeered, his heavy sac swinging to slap against YooA's swollen outer lips. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanking her head back to arc her spine even more severely. 

The new angle allowed him to jackhammer up into her abused quim with merciless force, his cock stretching her tender canal as it sought ever deeper purchase with each shaprp pounding.

Mr. Bear matched his counterpart's ferocious rhythm, battering YooA's defenseless ass just as viciously as his pelvis audibly slap against her ass cheeks. Their girthy cocks pummeled in tandem, turning the sobbing woman into a thoroughly defiled cock-sleeve uselessly whimpering around Mr. Owl's spit-soaked dick.

"Sh-Shponshorsss... hunghhh... pleashshhh... GHHKK!!" YooA gurgled and drooled around Owl's skull-fucking thrusts, barely able to form coherent words. Yet perversely, with each desperate utterance, the men's pace only quickened, driving her body into a quivering frenzy.

YooA's eyes rolled back, her pummeled throat spasming around Mr. Owl's cock as he unleashed his virulent load. Thick, acrid cords of cum blasted over her lolling tongue, the volume so excessive she could do little but let it slather over her lips and stream down her chin 

“The fuck are you doing?! Swallow it all.” Mr. Owl shouted angrily, his fingers digging into YooA's scalp as he pumped her mouth full of his waste. 

Despite his vicious demand, the poor woman was utterly choked, simply allowing the foul load to drip and dribble from her stretched lips as her beaten frame was wracked with involuntary convulsions.

"Grrrkkk... unnghh... more... need... moreeee..." she rasped mindlessly around the soupy mess clogging her throat, her cunt and ass somehow still hungrily milking for more seed deep inside.

And her degraded wish was soon granted, as Mr. Rabbit felt his climax nearing its peak between the vice-like clenches of her pussy. 

"Fuck, this needy tight pussy is gonna wring the soul outta my cock!" He piston-slamming into the sloppy mess of YooA's ravaged sex.

Each thrust drove a fresh gout of the previous loads' cum out in a frothy, splattery spray, only to slurp back inside with the next invading slide. Mr. Rabbit could feel the swollen flesh of her over-abused walls still desperately rippling around him, foolishly craving his defiling seed.

"Aiiieeee!! Oh god! G-gonna get... knocked up... by t-these awfulll cockksss!!" YooA shrieked with delirium, her face a mess of smeared make-up and sticky ejaculate hanging in weeping gobs from her chin. 

Without warning, Mr. Rabbit erupted, blasting scalding strings of cum directly against her cervix. At nearly the same instant, Mr. Bear arched his back with a roar of release, painting the woman's rectum an equal shade of obscene alabaster. 

YooA screamed and thrashed through her brutal dual creampie, her distended lower abdomen rippling visibly as they used her like a mere cum receptacle.

As Mr. Bear and Mr. Rabbit withdrew their cocks from YooA's filled holes with wet pops, allowing thick runnels of their acrid cream to immediately gush from her gaping, ruined openings to the floor.

Mr. Rabbit huffed,"Get this worthless sow off the couch," shoving YooA's cum-glazed form with his knee until she tumbled limply to the carpet. 

The woman idol barely move, her muscles twitching uselessly as her broken mind swam in a haze of degradation and bliss. But there was no pause to be had. 

In an instant Mr. Snake was on her, seizing YooA's matted hair in his fist, using it to haul her body up until she was trembling on boneless legs, shoulders hunched and torso leaning shakily against the couch. 

With a single thrust, Snake slammed his thick cock fully into her thoroughly gaped asshole once more.

“Oughhh!!" YooA shrieked, the harsh re-entry into her sensitive bowels like a lightning bolt of ecstasy-tinged pain. But her cry was cut off as Mr. Fox stepped around in front of her, gripping her jaw in his hands.

"You love getting fucked like a cheap whore now, don't you bitch?" Fox asked with cruel amusement and slapped YooA's flushed cheek, leaving an angry red welt. "Shit, you're leaking like a faucet. I bet this loose pussy needs another big load.”

Choking her briefly until stars burst in YooA's vision, Mr. Fox then grasped the underside of her thighs and hoisted her legs apart, easily sliding his rock-hard cock into the frothy, cum-drenched mess of her cunt. 

"Mmfff... yessshh... fffuckkk... mooore... cummm..." the woman slurred drunkenly, half-delirious from the shattering violation. Her body was utterly suspended between Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox's rutting motions, yanked back-and-forth while ruthlessly bounced on their piercing cocks.

The sounds of their flesh smacking together mingled with YooA's ecstasy-pained moans and the men's contemptuous laughter in a symphony of pure debasement. And not a single shred of her dignity remained.

The two animals sandwiched YooA between them, showing zero mercy as they brutally used her body as a human fuck-doll. Their thrusts jackhammered her stretched figure in opposite directions, turning her into a ragdoll pinned on their dueling cocks.

"Ghhkkk!! Too... b-big!! Hurtsss!! So good!!" The sobbing idol gurgled, her skull lolling as Mr. Snake's fat girth pummeled the deepest confines of her bowels with harsh strokes that seemed to split her in two. 

Her sphincter was a wide, gaping circle of swollen flesh uselessly fluttering around the invasion stretching it unnaturally agape.

His pelvis smacked loudly against YooA's cherry-red asscheeks, adding more angry welts and discoloration to the map of her abject suffering. Perversely, the crescendos of searing pain wracking her backside were punctuated by shudders of ecstasy as her ass was so ruthlessly plowed.

Mr. Fox matched his friend’s depraved rhythm, driving upwards to impale YooA on his cock with just as much uncaring force. Her hammered pussy has become a sloppy, cum-drenched mess of overstuffed folds, the juices of her violations squelching audibly as Fox rutted into her.

"Yeah, you hear how fucking wet this whore's cunt is?" Mr. Fox emphasized his vulgarity with a series of sharp slaps across YooA's jiggling boobs. "She's practically pissing femcum at the thought of getting pumped full of more jizz!”

Beneath them, a lurid puddle of their combined fluid was slowly spreading, expelled from YooA's reddened, distended holes with each cruel penetration.

"Mmmnn... c-cummm... leaking outtbb... stopphhh!!" she pleaded through the haze of delirious elation, only to be silenced as Mr. Snake seized a fistful of her hair and wrenched her neck back painfully. The brute force only allowed him to plunge with even more vicious depth.

"Grrnnghhh... gonna coreload this cockwhore proper!" Mr. Snake hissed, sweat beading his brow while the thick veins along his turgid cock throbbed visibly with each inhumanly powerful stroke. "Right up that slutty fucking babyhole!”

YooA's nails dug deep crescents into the straining muscles of Mr. Fox's shoulders as the dual pistoning drove her over the edge. She wailed like a woman possessed, thrown mercilessly into the throes of a shattering climax that shook her very core.

"Harder... h-harder! I'm... I'MMMMGGHHNNNFFFF!!" The words dissolved into a bestial cry that rang through the room, her arched spine bending near its breaking point as her high peaked.  

Both her holes clenched with convulsive, rippling spasms around the sadistic cocks defiling her - clenched as if her very life depended on milking them for their fresh, degrading seed.

And the two men were all too happy to oblige, sneering with twisted satisfaction as they felt her holes tighten around them. Mr. Snake wrapped his bulging arms crushingly tight around YooA's midriff, holding her helplessly impaled.

Mr. Fox, meanwhile, dug his claws deep into the soft flesh beneath YooA's quivering thighs, lifting and spreading her stiffened lower body wide as he prepared to unload his batter as deep as it would go.

"Take the fucking breeding you wanted so bad, you sloppy whore!" Me. Fox spat, arching his back as he pulled the shrieking woman down atop him with one conclusive, punishing thrust.

At the same time, Mr. Snake unleashed a throaty groan of delight, burying his cock fully inside YooA's bowels before flooding them with new layers of warm cum. His load churned and sloshed inside her heaving abdomen as he emptied his heavy balls.

The violated idol's eyes rolled back until only the whites were visible in her skull. Drool and mascara-tinted streaks of ejaculate trailed down her gaping maw in an unsightly mess as she was overwhelmed one final time, her wits shattered beyond repair.

When at last they'd drained their final spurts into her well-used, cum-stuffed form, the men simply let go, letting YooA collapse to the couch in a boneless, twitching heap. Thick runnels of their spend immediately began dribbling from her ruined, gaping holes to pool beneath her limp thighs.

"Damn, I think we finally broke this celebrity slut properly," laughed Mr. Bear with satisfaction, reaching down to shove the sticky strands of cum oozing from YooA's entrance with his fingertips and rubbing her swollen red clit with it. 

"I could go for another round though - who wants sloppy thirds on this greedy broken  cocksleeve?" Asked Mr. Owl, excited.

"Shit, I think we're well past sloppy thirds at this point," Mr. Rabbit chuckled, eyeing YooA's glistening form with a mixture of smug satisfaction and lingering lust. "That fucktoy's pretty much been run through the entire gangbang gauntlet."

He sighed heavily, already tucking himself back into his trousers with deft fingers. "As much as I'd kill to go another few rounds on that perfectly trained idol pussy, I've got to dip out. Got an overseas deal going down tonight that needs my attention."

A series of agreement followed from Mr. Snake and Mr. Fox as they too began redressing, putting on their suits and slacks with casual nonchalance. As enticing as the thought of further violating their celebrity cumdump was, business matters ultimately took priority.

"Yeah, that Taiwanese shit isn't gonna take care of itself," Mr. Snake grunted, smoothing back his sweat-damp hair. "Plus, the night's still young - no reason we can't find some fresh fuckmeat once we're done working."

The three men shared a round of dark, rumbling laughter at the thought, utterly unmoved by YooA's unconscious, abused, and decidedly well-used state now adorning the soiled sofa cushions. 

With a few parting leers and crude gestures, each bent down to unceremoniously snap a few close-up photos of her swollen holes still dribbling their copious loads, as well as her debauched features.

Mr. Snake smirked as he tucked his phone away. "Don't forget to end the recording properly once you two are done, and send us copies," he reminded Mr. Bear and Mr. Owl, the only ones remaining behind. "I want crispy 4K footage of tonight's A-List celebrity whore.”

Bear and Owl both smirked in response, their attention turning toward the discreetly-mounted video camera in the corner of the opulent penthouse suite. 

They'd been so caught up in the raucous, heated depravity, the fact that every lecherous act had been meticulously captured for their private collections had momentarily slipped their minds.

With a conspiratorial nod, Bear grabbed YooA's limp wrist, slowly guiding her arm up until her swaying fingertips were aimed directly at the camera lens like the world's most sordid puppet display.

Bear grinned at Owl, his grip tightening around YooA's wrist to make her fingers waggle towards the camera. 

The lens captured every lurid detail of her totally degraded state - from the disheveled chestnut tresses matted with sweat and cum, to the utter violence enacted upon her once-pristine holes now gaping and seeded full to brimming.

"This little whore isn't going to wake up for a long while after the utter fucking we gave her," Mr. Bear mused, his free hand pawing at YooA's boobs, streaked with inflamed welt marks and rapidly-blooming bruises. 

"Just think when she finally comes to, she will have scored that coveted sponsorship deal she was begging for. But at what cost? This is gonna be hilarious.” Mr. Owl laughed loudly, wrenching YooA's head upright by her hair so the camera could take in her euphoric yet harrowed expression.

"Well, in her line of 'work', being an absolute fuckpig on the casting couch is basically a prerequisite," Mr. Owl sneered, giving YooA's tits a few harsh, stinging slaps to watch the flesh ripple.

The two men guffawed as if sharing some long-standing inside joke, all the while manipulating YooA's insensate puppet form to give the camera a final, unambiguous view between her legs. 

"Well, I'd say our work here is done...for now," Mr. Bear punctuating that ambiguous remark by sliding two fingers into YooA's sloppy slit and stirring them in a spiral. The idol offered zero reaction, though a few fresh gouts of jism immediately trickled free from her overstuffed crevices.

"Atta girl. Keep dribbling out those sponsorship loads like a good cumdump," he cooed tauntingly, turning his twisted smile back towards the camera lens. "We'll make sure to give this little dickprincess the launchpad to true fame after putting her through a few more 'auditions' over the next few days and nights."

As the two men threw back their heads with harsh, victorious bouts of laughter, the recording feed flickered to an abrupt, unsettling black, leaving YooA's ultimate fate as a broken starlet a mystery to the outside world.

[hvneybuckin]

art donaldson

cheating, subby art, handjobs, gn reader

18+. minors dni

587 words

Art loved tennis. Art adored tennis. Did he live for tennis? No. Well, yes, he did— but he didn’t do it for him.

Art’s main priority was always going to be his family. Always going to be Tashi. That’s why he pushed himself so hard. He felt as though he owed it to her. Tennis was her dream, and he was going to make it real.

However, even Art Donaldson— one of the best tennis players of his time— needed a break.

That break was you.

And after a particularly shitty match, he thought he deserved a rest.

So it’s really no surprise when he ends up in between your legs, back to your chest while your hand reaches around to tug on his leaking cock. “Is this good?” Your voice is nothing higher than a whisper, bitten lips from the makeout session from just moments before brushing against Art’s ear. “Yeah— yes, just…a little faster, please.”

So, you do what he asks; because how could you say no to him? And you’re glad that you obliged, the broken gasp that slips out of him sounding almost angelic to your ears. His head falls back to rest on your shoulder, eyes clamped shut.

Your fingerpad brushes past his angry, red tip, and Art thinks he might actually see heaven.

“You really needed this, yeah?”

Your tone is always so gentle whenever you’re with Art. As if anything above it could break him. He’s not quite sure if he likes it, but right now— the signs are pointing towards yes.

He nods in response, afraid that if he tries to speak, his voice will betray him.

“I know you did. Been so stressed lately, hm?” You pepper soft kisses all over his face, but never his lips, and the whine that escapes his mouth comes straight from a place of desire. “It’s okay, though. ‘M proud of you, my perfect boy.” Art’s hips jerk up at that, and it makes you giggle simply because he really is so sensitive. “Think ‘m gonna cum soon,” he whimpers into the skin of your shoulder. His words are slurred, and you can already tell he’s not all that much there anymore.

You take it upon yourself to stroke him faster, and you can hear how his breathing speeds up, gets heavier.

“Fuck.”

It comes out whiny and pathetic. He can’t be arsed to say anything else, but that one word does all the work for him. “‘S okay, you can cum for me, Art.”

That’s all it takes to push him over the edge, spurts of milky white shooting out of his cock and onto your hand. He’s babbling mindlessly, most of it coming out garbled— but what you do pick up is the many “thank you’s” and obscenities he spews.

After you let him ride his orgasm out, he’s actually really quiet. “Art? You still with me?” You whisper, looking down at his blissed-out face. A thin string of saliva connects his lips to your shoulder.

He was drooling.

He blinks his eyes open, and once he’s fully brought back to reality, he gives you one of the sweetest smiles you’ve ever seen. “Yeah.” You offer him a slight grin back, hand reaching up to brush some stray curly strands of hair away from his face. “Should we shower? Or would you prefer a bath?”

“…Can we just stay here? Like this?”

And right then and there, you think that maybe Tashi won’t mind if he doesn’t come home that night.

[thef1diary]

hiii could u write a danny or carlos fic based on mess it up by gracie abrams? maybe smtg angsty w happy ending ??

Self Sabotage | D. Ricciardo

Summary: you leave Daniel because things are going too well, but you realize it's the worst decision you've ever made.

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

masterlist taglist form

Warnings: angst, insecurity (on reader's end), negative thoughts, allusion to childhood trauma, mention of failed past relationships, lil bit of fluff/comfort.

wc: 2.2k

You were waiting for the other shoe to drop. Things had been well between you and Daniel, in fact it was going too well that it worried you.

You believed that there would be a day where Daniel would show his true colours; prove that every promise, every gesture of love he made was nothing but a lie.

That day never came. He loved you endlessly, showering you in gifts and affirmations which only deepened your fear.

Opened two double doors

Despite Daniel's unwavering love and sincerity, you couldn't shake the feeling that you didn't deserve such happiness. Deep-seated insecurities gnawed at you, whispering that it was only a matter of time before you ruined everything.

Unable to bear the weight of your own self-doubt, you made the painful decision to push Daniel away before he could discover the flaws you believed defined you.

Typical, pretty sure I could grow up

With a heavy heart, you packed your belongings in silence, the weight of your decision pressing down on you with each item you carefully placed in boxes. As you moved through the rooms of your shared home, memories flooded your mind, each corner holding echoes of laughter, whispered promises, and tender moments shared with Daniel. The emptiness of the space around you mirrored the ache in your chest as you realized what you were about to leave behind.

With Daniel away, you found solace in the solitude of your departure, sparing both of you the agony of a tearful goodbye. Each item packed was a step closer to severing the ties that bound you together, a painful but necessary act of self-preservation.

Probably chemical

As you closed the door behind you for the last time, the weight of your decision settled over you like a shroud, leaving behind a home that once held the promise of a future you were no longer sure you deserved.

Driving away from the home you once shared with Daniel, tears blurred your vision as you navigated the familiar streets, each turn carrying you further from the life you had built together. The radio played softly in the background, a bittersweet soundtrack to your departure, as memories of happier times intertwined with the ache of loss.

I took up walking to turn it all off

Despite the pain, a small voice inside whispered that you were doing the right thing, that by leaving, you were sparing Daniel the burden of loving someone who couldn't love themselves. Yet, even as you tried to convince yourself that this was for the best, doubt crept in, casting shadows of regret over your decision.

You grip the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you navigate the familiar streets. Glancing at the passenger seat, you see a photo of you and your boyfriend, smiling blissfully. It feels like a mockery now, a reminder of what you shattered.

Doesn't feel bearable

With a huff, you turned it over so you don't see his handsome smile staring back at you that always led you right into his arms, his laugh that was contagious enough to make you laugh as well.

You couldn't stop thinking about him or all the reasons you fell in love with him. He was perfect and unfortunately you didn't believe that you were enough for him.

Guess I thought when I left it would all stop

Opening the window, you let the breeze gather your thoughts and whisk them all away, both negative and positive. All you knew was that you had to leave him because it was good for him. He could find someone better than you, much better.

Your phone buzzes, his name flashing on the screen. You hesitate before answering, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hey," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Hmm, it would all stop

"Hey, babe! What are you up to?" His voice is filled with warmth, but you can't shake the guilt building inside you.

"Nothing, just hanging about, you know how it is without you," you reply, forcing a smile you know he can't see.

"You sound a bit off. Is everything okay?" Concern colors his words.

When I told you "I'm fine", you were lied to

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just tired from the day, I guess," you lie, the weight of your deceit heavy on your chest.

"Okay, well, I miss you. I can't wait to get back to you," he says, his longing evident in his voice.

"I miss you too," you reply, feeling the sting of your betrayal with every word. You did truly miss him and you know that you would miss him even more as time would go on.

How could I think that all that I gave you was enough?

As you hang up the phone, you're consumed by guilt. You know what you're doing is wrong, but you can't stop now.

You continue driving, the weight of your decision bearing down on you with each passing mile. The road stretches endlessly ahead, mirroring the uncertainty gnawing at your conscience.

'Cause every time I get too close, I just go mess it up

Daniel's words echo in your mind, his longing for you palpable even through the phone. You can't shake the image of his face, filled with love and trust, oblivious to the lie you've just told him.

Even with the music and open windows, the car still becomes suffocating. You steal another glance at the photo frame you flipped over on the passenger seat, your heart twisting with guilt.

Funny that didn't work

A sudden urge to turn back grips you, but you push it aside. It's too late now, you tell yourself. You've made your choice.

Half an hour passes, the landscape blurring into a haze of regret and doubt. Your mind races with what-ifs and maybes, each one a dagger to your already wounded conscience and heart.

Suddenly, your phone rings again, jolting you out of your thoughts. Daniel's name flashes on the screen, but this time you don't pick up his call.

I could be anywhere, I'm on your block

"I'm sorry, Daniel," you whisper, turning off your phone so you don't see another call or text from him.

A wave of sadness washes over you, mingled with a tinge of guilt. Despite knowing deep down that leaving Daniel was the right decision for both of you, it doesn't make the pain any easier to bear.

Cynical, terrible

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your trembling hands as you focus on the road ahead. Each mile feels like an eternity, the weight of your decision heavy on your heart.

Memories of your time with Daniel flood your mind – the laughter, the shared dreams, the moments of pure joy that you thought would last forever. But somewhere along the way, the cracks began to form, the doubts and insecurities creeping in your mind until it threatened to consume you both.

Kicking myself with my gut in a knot

As you drive further and further away from him, you can't help but wonder if you've made a mistake. What if you're throwing away the best thing that ever happened to you? What if you'll never find someone who understands you the way Daniel did?

But then you remember the tears you shed, the sleepless nights spent without him, agonizing over whether to stay or go. You remember the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a relationship that was slowly suffocating you purely because you never felt such love before. Instead of accepting it, or at least telling him about it, you chose to endure it until it became unbearable.

'Cause I heard that you're happier

Perhaps you couldn't find someone better than Daniel, he was truly one of the best ones. But that thought didn't deter you away from your decision because you were the one always causing problems, always letting your own thoughts become the reason to end a relationship.

As you drive on into the night, you realize that leaving Daniel was the only way to save him from you. It wasn't easy, and it certainly wasn't painless, but you know in your heart that it was the right thing to do.

Hope that you're sleeping well knowing I'm not

In the weeks following the breakup, a sense of emptiness settled over you like a heavy fog, each day passing in a blur of regret and longing. As you reflected on what had led you to push Daniel away, you couldn't escape the realization that your own insecurities and past traumas had played a significant role in sabotaging the one good thing in your life.

Memories of past relationships haunted your thoughts, whispering tales of betrayal and heartbreak, leaving you unable to fully trust in the love Daniel offered so freely. Childhood wounds, buried deep beneath layers of self-preservation, resurfaced with a vengeance, casting doubt on your worthiness of happiness.

I'm doing too much, hmm

In the quiet moments of solitude, you found yourself grappling with the harsh reality of your actions, longing to turn back the hands of time and undo the damage you had wrought. With each passing day, the weight of regret grew heavier, until it became too much to bear.

He called many times when you finally turned your phone on, but you were too much of a coward to reply to any of his messages. You could tell he was hurt based on the voicemails he left, asking what he did wrong for you to leave abruptly. Daniel had wanted to surprise you by coming home a day early, and you ruined it by not being there.

Did I fall out of line when I called you?

Just like you ruined everything else in your life. You cried yourself to sleep that night, lulling yourself by playing his voicemails over and over again because despite his tone revealing he cried, he still loved you.

Summoning all the courage you could muster, you sought out Daniel, driven by an overwhelming need to make amends, to lay bare the truth of your fears and insecurities.

When I told you "I'm fine"

You stood on the step in front of the house you once called yours, and if everything went well, it would be yours again along with his.

Daniel opened the door, shock covering his features. He gazed at you from head to toe, checking if you were injured but once he was satisfied, his gaze hardened as it connected with yours.

"Daniel," you began, your voice trembling with emotion as you stood before him, "I need to talk to you."

You were lied to

Noticing the hesitation in your tone, his eyes softened, finally coming to a realization that you were truly standing in front of him after being left alone for weeks.

"What happened?" he asked, concern lacing his words. He itched to touch you, to hold you, but he needed to know your stance on your relationship.

How could I think that all that I gave you was enough?

Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to find the right words. "I'm so sorry," you whispered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I made a mistake. I let my fears get the best of me, and I pushed you away."

Daniel's brow furrowed in confusion and worry. Ignoring the voice in his head to stay away, he pulled you closer, hugging you and sighing as he found relief by having you in his arms.

I keep thinking maybe if you let me back in

"Why did you push me away? We could've talked," he muttered as he felt your tears wetting the crook of his neck. "It's... it's complicated," you replied, your voice cracking with emotion.

He pulled back, "did I do something?"

You quickly shook your head, "no, you're perfect. I got scared. Scared of getting hurt again, of letting someone in only to be left broken and alone. But I see now that I let my past dictate my future, and I lost sight of what truly mattered, how much you mattered."

We can make it better, breaking every habit

Silence hung heavy between you, the weight of your confession filling the space between your hearts. Then, finally, Daniel spoke, his voice soft but filled with pain. "I don't understand why you didn't talk to me about this sooner," he said, his eyes searching yours for answers.

"I was afraid," you admitted, tears streaming down your cheeks. "Afraid that if I opened up to you, you would see the broken pieces of me and walk away. But now I realize that keeping you at arm's length was the biggest mistake of my life."

Pull myself together, you could watch it happen

Daniel reached out, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb. "I'm not going anywhere," he said, his voice firm with conviction. "I love you, flaws and all. But we need to work through this together, okay?"

With a trembling smile, you nodded, feeling the weight of his words lift the burden from your shoulders.

In that moment, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, guided by the light of love and forgiveness.

Let it happen, let it happen

Taglist: @nikfigueiredo @wonnou @jointhehunt67 @gxuh @lochnoch @llando4norris @monsieurbacteria6 @namgification @lilymurphy03 @sargeantdumbass @hiireadstuff @racingheartsposts @d3kstar @xjval @namjoonswaifu @isabellewinchester @thedecalcomania-blog @casperlikej @khaylin27 @mlioravanfleet @xoxonoire

[emphistic]

Greedy

A/N: requested by @charbunxxi — i did something a little different, lmk if you would rather me repost a more accurate version to your request

The first thing Sukuna thought about after getting off his shift was you. You were the only thing he thought of while working, too. And, on the drive home, he almost crashed his car due to the fact that you were the only thing on his mind.

Some might say he's obsessive. Some might say he's deranged. Some might say he's a man deserving of nothing.

But then there's you, who says he's just a man in love.

He's a man who makes you breakfast and coffee — the way you like it. He's a man who draws you baths and washes your hair. He's a man who carries your bags after having gone shopping — with his card, obviously. He's a man who arrives at the apartment and — even then, still looks for home. He's a man who looks for you.

However, this time — unlike all other times, after slipping off his footwear and coat, he is unable to find you.

Maybe you were taking a shower? No. Maybe you were watching TV in the living room? Nope. Maybe you were doing laundry? Not even close.

When Sukuna finally succeeded in his search for you in your shared bedroom, he facepalmed. "'m so fuckin' stupid," he grunts out, as he crawls into bed.

You had fallen asleep while trying — but failing — to stay up in order to greet Sukuna after he returned home from work; but, he had had a longer shift than usual, and forgot to tell you.

He didn't mean to wake you. After all, it's not his fault that your pet cat just had to let out the world's loudest meow, announcing his arrival.

"You've got to be kidding me," he whispered, glaring at the little nuisance laying in the bed, cuddled up in your loving arms. The loving arms where he should be, not some ugly, good-for-nothing feline.

"My bad, baby. Swear, didn't mean to wake you—" He goes in to place a kiss on your cheek, but you simultaneously swerve away from him.

"No," you softly whine, shoving your head into the pillow.

"The fuck you mean 'no'? You seriously gonna deprive me of my well deserved kiss? After working a twelve hour shift?"

"No kisses." You mumble, your voice muffled.

Sukuna blinked at you, once, twice, thrice, until he finally concluded that you weren't just fucking around with him, and you were actually denying him of something totally essential to his well-being.

How was he meant to go on without your kisses? How would he live, breathe, eat, sleep, without your affection?

He tried to remove you from the pillow, but you instantly shoved your face back. "Noo."

"Sweetheart, I love you, y'know that already. And I wouldn't force you to do anything against your will. But, you don't understand, baby. What you're doing is completely and utterly cruel. This is wrong, on so many levels." He tried, again, to peel your face away from the pillow. And he succeeded, this time. But this time, you had a nasty pout on your face.

"You wanna know what's cruel? The fact you haven't showered, and yet, still have the audacity to crawl into bed. I'll have you know, I just replaced the bedsheets, and now here you are — dirtying them up."

"Babe, please—" He started.

"You are stinking up the whole goddamn apartment, Sukuna."

"You don't gotta be this way. We can talk it out."

"Sukuna—"

"C'mon, pretty girl. Just one? For little ol' me?"

You grumbled, but complied, albeit begrudgingly. "Fine, only one. But you have to take a shower after—mmph!"

Sukuna grabbed your face in his hands and tackled you down onto the bed, smashing his lips against yours so zealously that even the cat jumped out of your arms and off the bed.

-

It, indeed, was not just one kiss. But, it wasn't a total loss. Sukuna did end up taking that shower. And he gave you a reason to, as well.

Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura

[dfortrafalgar]

Gift of Belonging

Luffy x GN Reader

Life didn't have a purpose without Luffy.

Warnings: Fic from my 100 followers poll!!! can be read as either platonic or romantic, mentions of self deprecating thoughts but nothing too severe, just some short, feel good, reassuring hugs from our favorite straw hat-wearing captain <3

Taglist: @bokutosbiceps | @luffy0s | @surgeonoffish

You were at the end of your rope when you joined the straw hats, but who wasn’t?  You weren’t special in the grand scheme of the world’s most infamous pirate crew.  You couldn’t compare to the tumultuous lives of the rag-tag bunch that had quickly become your lifeline, you had nothing on being the child of an abusive royal family, or the last survivor of a decimated nation, or the unfortunate witness to the killing of a friend or parent, or a literal god.  You weren’t a cyborg or an animal or a reincarnated being hundreds of years old.  You were just… simple.

And yet, the Straw Hats made you feel accepted.

They made you feel wanted.

And no one had wanted you more than Monkey D. Luffy.

You still struggled to accept the boisterous boy’s words when he welcomed you aboard his grand ship.  You had put up an argument, insisting that you would only get in the way, that your strengths paled in comparison to the rest of the crew, that you had no business being a part of the inner circle of one of the Emperors.  But not a single eyelash was batted in the direction of your plight.  Simply endless stares of patience, waiting for you to finally bite the lure and climb up the gangway and officially join the Straw Hats.  And when you finally did, Luffy had said the words that had stuck with you since then.

“I don’t care who you are.  You’re special and you deserve a spot in my family.”

It was as if the world opened up around you for the first time.  Instead of seeing your surroundings in black and white, colors infiltrated your retinas in ways you had never experienced.  Suddenly, the sunshine that beat down on your skin felt like a pleasant hug from the world, rather than a punishing burn against your weary being.  Food you ate and drank every single day tasted extra good because it was always cooked with love and affection, the flirtatious cook not caring at all where you had come from.  Luffy and his crew made it known from the second they met you that you were deserving of love, respect, and friendship.

And you couldn’t lie… the first few days were overwhelming.

The Straw Hats were loving.  They were really loving, and their unique ways of showing they appreciated you were slowly building up in your veins like a disease until one night, when you were on watch, you cracked.

You broke down.

You sat on the stern of the Thousand Sunny, gazing out from the white-painted railings and over the vastness of the dark ocean and seamlessly blended in with the sky above you, the only light shining on you being from the twinkling stars millions of light years away.  Quiet, salty tears flowed down your cheeks, your shoulders clenched as you wrapped your arms around yourself, sniffling into the collar of your shirt.  You loved your crew, you really did.  You began to realize that you loved them more than you ever loved anyone else in your life, and that thought somehow scared you.  Like you were unprepared.  Like your heart had been so deprived of love for your whole life that the overabundance of it in such a short time caused your brain to short-circuit.  And you cried.  You weeped on the Sunny’s back deck, into the calmness of the night.

Until the sound of clopping flip-flops climbing the steps to where you sat alerted your attention, causing you to freeze up, holding your breath, wishing your tears could evaporate away.

“Hey, what are you doing up here alone?”  It was Luffy, his usually exuberant voice a rare form of calm as he approached you.  He wasted absolutely zero time in plopping himself onto the hard deck beside you, extending his legs and holding his arms out, hands behind his head.

You stayed hunched into yourself, trying to hide your shame in your hands.

“Hey… are you alright?” he asked, his voice somehow even softer.

A faint sniffle from you was all your captain needed to hear.  He sat up with a start and grabbed your shoulders with his calloused hands, yanking you around to face him.  Your eyes were wide with shock at his actions, but you stayed frozen.  It’s not like you could run anywhere, the man was made of rubber.

“Why are you crying?” he asked, his eyes narrowed and eyebrows furrowed, an intense stare that bored into your skin.  “Did someone say something to you?  Did someone hurt you?”

You shook your head, wiping your tears away on your arm.  You took a deep, shuddering inhale before finally forcing your shoulders to relax.  “No… no one said anything to me.”

“Then why are you crying?”

Luffy, despite not being overly emotional in normal circumstances, was scarily good at reading people.  It didn’t matter if you couldn’t outright say what was bothering you, he would eventually figure it out with that convoluted tunnel system of a brain.  His adorable lips curled into a pout as he analyzed your face, picking apart every twitch of your muscles.

You inhaled once more, turning your face away from him slightly.  “I’m just… not used to this.”

“Not used to what?”

His questions, and the feigned clueless tone of his voice almost made a smile crack onto your face.  Another talent of Monkey D. Luffy: he was like a wrecking ball for the walls you built up around yourself.

“I’m not used to… this.”  Your hands circled around you, gesturing to the ship, causing Luffy to finally drop his hands from your shoulders.  “Being a part of a crew.  You guys are… too nice to me.”

Luffy was ready with a response immediately.  “We could never be ‘too nice to you.’  That’s impossible.  We love you.”

Your lip quivered slightly.  “That’s what I’m not used to.”

“Being loved?”

There it was.  You feebly nodded.  “Yeah.  That.”

Your captain scooted across the deck closer to you, if that was even possible.  He was basically flush against you at this point.  He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm bear hug, his fluffy black hair tickling the skin of your cheek.  “We love you because you’re special to us, we don’t need a reason for that,” he described.  His voice faltered, as if he wanted to say something else, as if he was trying to add to his words.  Instead, he squeezed you into him, closing his eyes as he felt your muscles grow limp.  ‘We love you, but I love you more.’

“I just wish it was easier for me to accept that,” you whispered into his shoulder, struggling to hug him back.

Luffy’s embrace didn’t relent.  If anything, he tried to pull you in closer.  The force of his hug made you lose your balance on the floor, falling over on top of him, your chin hitting his shoulder.  But he still didn’t let up.  He held firm, squeezing you as if you would fade away into dust if he let go.

“Luffy–” you wheezed against his skin.

“What?”  He sounded completely oblivious.  “I’m going to keep hugging you until you don’t feel sad anymore.  No more crying,” he demanded.  “Captain’s orders.”  His last sentence held a hint of playfulness, the smile he surely wore on his face coming through the sound of his voice.

He must have been contagious, because your own grin slowly grew on your lips.  After what felt like hours, you finally reciprocated his hug, curling your arms under him and letting yourself finally relax in his embrace.  You knew Luffy had odd ways of showing he cared, but this was definitely unexpected.  Unexpected, but not necessarily unappreciated.  His presence emitted a warmth akin to summertime air, his existence like the calming breeze of the open ocean that wafted around you and circled you in comforting drafts.  Luffy never judged, never wavered, never ceased to let his crew, and now you, know how truly grateful he felt to be able to live his life with his favorite people.

You made a slight movement to stand up, but Luffy’s arms tightened their hold around your back.  “Not yet,” he grumbled.  “I don’t wanna stand up yet.”

“Is this how you comfort everyone on the crew?” you asked, your voice coming out muffled as you spoke into his neck.

“Hmm… not necessarily.  Everyone’s different.  Chopper really loves hugs, and Zoro lets me hug him, but sometimes Nami and Robin can take them or leave them.  Usopp likes hugs but doesn’t like to admit it.”  A smile crawled to your face as your captain rattled off the preferences of your fellow crewmates, the ways in which he perceived their unique and individual personalities bringing a comforting reassurance to your heart.  “I feel like you really like hugs, and you clearly needed one right now.”

You bit the inside of your lower lip, trying to bite back the tears that formed in the corners of your eyes.  The tension escaping your body dissipated in large waves, leaving you with nothing but warmth and comfort in the arms of the man who had surely saved your life.

And for the first time since officially joining the Straw Hats, you began to feel truly, unconditionally loved.  It was miraculous.  All it took was a single hug from the nicest, most selfless person you had ever met.

Someday, you’d be sure to return the favor for Luffy, even if he wouldn’t accept.

[gabessquishytum]

Hob was new to the city, so during his first full moon he put on his "collar" and walked about in his wolf-skin. Mostly he looked like a big dog and he chose a werewolf friendly city to move to, so he figured he wouldn't be hassled too much.

🐺🐺🐺🐺

While walking about Hob smelled something delicious! Following the smell lead to a tall pointy fence, but Hob wasn't going let a fence stop him,,,he jumped. Hob landed in a garden (only scraping his side a little).

The garden wasn't what he was smelling, though, as nice as it was. Hob continued to following the smell around the corner of a house where he came upon a pup and its father.

They were his smell!

Hob didn’t want to startle them too much, so he yipped from a distance. If wolves could sheepishly wave, Hob would have.

The larger wolf started to growl, when the pup shot out and started (cutely) yipping at Hob, wagging his tail and poking Hob with his nose.

Papa!wolf quickly changed back into his human form, sighing Orpheus; Hob used that as his signal to change back himself.....apologizing for intruding,, to the still fantastic smelling (beautiful) man.

Hob was screwed.

Himbo werewolf Hob!!! I love him!!! Also Hob in a collar... ajsjdbdhshs ANYWAYS.

Of course Orpheus is desperate to play with his new friend, the big fluffy brown wolf who is twice as broad as his dad. See, his dad is very protective, so Orpheus doesn't have a whole lot of friends to play with, either in wolf or human form! He wants to play!!!

Dream grumbles under his breath but agrees that Orpheus can play with Hob. Only five minutes, though. Hob quickly shifts back to wolf form and immediately engages in tag, play fighting, even a fun chasing game with a football! Little by little, Dream is also pulled into the game, until the play-fighting ends with Orpheus and Dream successfully pinning Hob’s big fluffy body against the ground. They caught him! And Hob has never been more pleased to be caught, it's fair to say.

Unfortunately Hob can't stay forever (and he's polite enough to excuse himself instead of waiting for Dream to shoo him away). But Dream surprises him by inviting him to stop by for dinner after the full moon is over and done with. For Orpheus's sake, obviously - it has nothing to do with the fact that Hob smells so good and is so handsome with his hair messed up and dirt on his face. He just deserves a proper welcome to the neighbourhood. Or something.

Hob accepts the invitation and apologises again for just jumping into Dream’s garden, but Dream just snuffles against him and gives his ear an affectionate nibble. So Hob is starting to think that following his nose wasn't such a bad idea after all...!

[odyssiaca]

odysseus is generally seen as 'morally ambiguous' due to his not always being seen as the best of people- but this is a very modern and feminist take, and whilst nothing is inherently wrong with the idea of feminist takes and retellings, it skews what we have and already know of the myths, and this can be seen most predominantly in the character of odysseus. odysseus is two things:

- not meant to a hero

- not meant to be good

he is written as a man faced with impossible odds, and who loses some- if not all- of his morality in doing so. BUT where does the idea of him being 'bad' come from? the penelopiad by margaret atwood, a woman known for being quite vitriolic towards men of any kind. in recent years, people have picked up on three major things from the odyssey:

- the hanging of the maids

- odysseus cheating on his wife

- odysseus going mad at the end

NOW, to break it into points:

the hanging of the maids is so often seen in a feminist light due to margaret atwood, where odysseus is painted as some cruel, vile, disgusting predator who loathes women. this isn't true to the odyssey AT ALL. in the odyssey it is explicitly stated by the nurse that raised telemachus: 'i shall single out those who betrayed you, my lord' and by one of the maids herself- melantho: 'if we sleep with the suitors, when they become king we will be in favour with him.' and THIS is why he killed the maids. not because he was insane, not because he was bad, but because they had betrayed not just him- but his wife. not all the maids were killed, only those who slept with the suitors. the argument most often used for this is that the women couldn't say no, but this goes against what the maids themselves say in the odyssey when they believe no one to be watching.

odysseus cheating on his wife HE DIDN'T. but he is a man, and as a man, he cannot be raped. he is a terrible man for sleeping with circe and calypso when he could have- as epic decides to say- say no. which is untrue!! these are goddesses. titanesses. circe is the daughter of helios, and calypso is daughter of atlas. they could overpower him simply by looking at him. circe turned his men to pigs, even with the moly she could have easily done the same- or worse- to him. the idea of him choosing to and being unfaithful stems from madeline miller's, Circe which whilst not inherently bad, goes out of its way to put all men in a terrible light, because the heroes deserves no rights in feminist retellings. odysseus wanted to say no, but could not as hermes explicitly told him he couldn't. on the flip side, calypso threatens, ensnares him and only releases him when told to by hermes and the council of the gods. in the odyssey it is literally stated: 'and odysseus stayed on the shores weeping for home before joining the nymph in her bed.' he did not WANT to sleep with calypso, but was left with no other choice but to do so. this is a recurring theme for calypso.

but he is blamed due to his gender, and the idea of 'feminism' and 'patriarchy'.

and now, the real reason for odysseus being seen badly:

the telegony the telegony is a myth written after the odyssey with telegonus- son of circe and odysseus- as the main character. in this he travels to find his father and meet him, but accidentally kills him on the shore. (peneleope marries telegonus, and circe marries telemachus) but this is where the idea of odysseus' insanity comes from. in the telegony, it is stated he went mad after the war, and couldn't survive without bloodshed, and so he went out seeking war, and women, and battle, and went mad in this.

the statement: 'generous to odysseus' is wholly unfair, because he is a man forced to lose everything, assaulted, violated, tortured and imprisoned with no hope of survival. he goes to war knowing he won't return for 20 years, won't see his wife, and won't watch his son grow. he is a man not a god, or a demigod. he's just some dude doing his best.

[rooksamoris]

💞 — 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐎𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐒.

💞 — in which jamil realizes that no matter how hard he avoid the oasis, the thirst will not disappear till it is quenched.

💞 — jamil viper x reader

💞 — warnings: hurt/comfort type fic. some descriptions of gore to emphasize yearning (the arabs be dramatic, what can i say)

💞 — 1.7k words. inspired by "sawwah" the song by abdel halim hafez. you should listen to it while reading tbh. first in a series of me assigning old school arabic songs to various characters. and yes, arabic speaking jamil is back. the translations are italicized with the arabic, and i changed some lyrics to fit third person, instead of first.

Wa ana mashi fil bilad, sawwah.

And I walk through countries, a vagabond.

Jamil had a job. He was bound to eternal servitude to the Al-Asim family—practically property to Bait (house/clan) Al-Asim. He had a job, and yet he spent his nights away in his mind, wandering like a vagabond. Purposeless, jobless. 

All those nights toiling in the kitchen of Scarabia made him forget purpose and work were different things. He would never call working for that spoiled boy his purpose. He was made for more—to be praised, to rule and command. He deserved more. Jamil deserved more than having to push away his moon, his qamar (moon). 

You were like an oasis in the desert expanse that he called his mind, and yet he walked away from you. He walked away when he desperately needed a sip. When he desperately needed rest and dates from your palm.

“Qad jinint? (Have you become crazed?) I have too many things to deal with. And you’d be better off without the burden of my title. Imshi (Go on/walk off).”

Jamil saw it. He saw the way your expression faltered, the softest twitch in your brow, the smallest tremble of your lips. It was cruel, he knew it, and it hurt him to say it. But in the end, he knew there was nothing else he could say. There must have been a better way to delicately reject your confessions, and yet he took the harshest route. Jamil plucked the dates from your palm and trampled over them.

He hurt himself by doing so, denying himself the one thing he desperately wanted. In the end, it was simple. Mishwar baeed, wa hu gareeh. His life was a long journey that only injured him. He did not want it to injure you as well.

Still, his charcoal eyes would seek you out. He would still ask Kalim about you, wanting to know how the distance was affecting you. Did you become a vagabond as he did? Were you avoiding oases?

Did you ask about the brown-skinned boy who broke your heart? He just wanted to be reassured—tamainu (reassure him)—that his qamar was doing alright. Wa in la’akum habibi, salamuli alai, he wanted to tell Kalim. If you see my love, wish them peace from me.

He would never ask you himself, nor did he get the chance to since you would scurry off whenever he passed by. The one place he could not avoid you was the kitchen of Scarabia, his domain, during one of Kalim’s parties. You were hiding away from the madness, and he had been trying to hide away from you. It was the same spot in which you cooked with him, listened to him, and were eventually rejected by him.

Jamil froze after walking in, and you turned your head up from your phone once you saw him, “I’m sorry,” you said, pushing yourself off of the counter and heading for the other door. You could not face him, not after that rejection. Not after he told you that your feelings were that of a crazed djinni (genie/jinn).

He shook his head and walked to the stove top, turning it on, “Stay. I’ll make chai,” he muttered. He did not even look at you.

You still wanted to leave, but instead, you just nodded. Honestly, you were a fool for the man, for that long dark brown hair which he braided so perfectly, and his aquiline nose which you desperately wanted to trace your finger along, “I don’t want to trouble you—”

“It’s no trouble. It gives me an excuse to get away from Kalim.”

You swallowed and nodded.

The silence was horrifically uncomfortable. The only sounds in the kitchen were the boiling water in the kettle and the sound that the mortar and pestle made while Jamil began to grind the herbs for the tea. Chai, cloves, cardamom—he added cinnamon this time. The scent always made everything more cozy.

Ya qamar, ya nasini. Oh moon who forgets me. Jamil hoped you would have gotten over your feelings for him and forgotten about the rejection, but he could tell it stung. The way you looked around the kitchen proved that enough. He poured the evaporated milk into the tea, let it simmer with the racing of his heart, and then poured both of you cups. He was gentle as he set your cup in front of you, unlike the savagery that he handled your heart with. 

Jamil leaned against the island, his eyes trailing over your face, “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” you blurted, holding the cup of tea. Waseitak, waseiya, ya shahid aleiya, “I promised you—you heard. You saw,” you elaborated, “I’m fine.” Tekilu ala beiyak. You could have told him of the state you were in after the rejection, but you opted for lies veiled by a fake grin.

He understood. He did not let you see past his veil either, “I see.” 

“The tea is great.”

“Thanks.”

There it was, another uncomfortable silence. His eyes said it all, though. Had you looked close enough, you would have seen how they ached to sacrifice themselves for you. He wished his worries for you would leave him alone—he would have gouged his eyes out just to make the aching in his heart disappear. It was curling in on itself, threatening to burst with the violence of a desert storm, sand filled his lungs, suffocating him. The weeks felt like years, and he was just a nomad in the night.

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he set his cup down.

You immediately frowned and put your teacup down as well, scared you would drop in, “You don’t get to say that now,” you mumbled.

Jamil nodded in agreement. It was cruel, rejecting you so harshly just to turn around and claim he did not mean any of it. Especially when he still did find you crazy for loving him as ardently as you claimed, “It’s wrong. I know,” he said, looking away from you and to the door where all the commotion was. The music was muffled by the shut doors, making the kitchen feel like an entirely different building, “But I… I feel the same.”

That was another lie. He did not just feel the same, Jamil longed for you. He yearned, his heart ached and his veins begged to be torn out for your sake. Every cell in his body called for your name, his hands begged to grasp your waist, kiss your neck—his hands which artfully painted henna, wished they could trace every curve and every dip on your body.

“Jamil…” you trailed off.

He merely shook his head, “It is because I feel the same that I must reject you. You—you have so much more waiting in your life without me. My suffering should not be yours,” he said, and he said it as if it were the law of the universe. He was a vagabond eternally bound to avoid the oases because the oases were not meant for him. They were meant for Kalim Al-Asim.

Despite all that, he did not push you away when you cupped his face. He did not protest as he drowned. He did not thrash, he did not fight. His body did as it wished, leaning into your hands, “Ya qamar… you are making this more difficult than it needs to be,” he muttered, the disdain dying before it could embrace the quiet air of the kitchen.

You frowned at him—sevens, he wanted to kiss that mouth of yours—and your brows furrowed, “Let me, Jamil. Just let me,” you said. What did you want him to let you do? You had no clue, or perhaps it was just too broad to describe.

Nawarli, wararili, seitak al-habayeb.

Enlighten and show me the path to the beloveds.

He was so weak when it came to you. Before he knew it, his hands were at the small of your back, pulling you closer and forcing you to arch against him as his lips met yours in a fierce kiss. He sighed into your mouth, his tongue slipping in when you gasped in surprise.

Jamil needed you even closer. His hands made their way down to your hips, his thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to feel your skin. It was just as nice as he dreamed it would be. What made it all the better was how you kissed him back.

One of your hands gripped his shirt, right at his chest, right above his cruel racing heart, and the other held the back of his head. The quietest of whimpers escaped you as he bit your bottom lip, causing him to groan. 

He pressed you against the counter, causing your hand to slip from his chest and move to hold onto the surface behind you. You kissed him till you could not breathe, “Ja—Jamil,” you stammered when your lips parted from his. 

Greedily, he went in and kissed you some more. Jamil had taken a sip, and now he wanted it all. He only pulled away when your hands pressed against his chest to push him away. His eyes widened and his hands fell back to his sides. He pulled the hood down to hide his face from you as he turned his head, “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s—It’s fine,” you replied, fixing your clothes and hair, “Are we…” you let the question hang like a date on a palm tree.

He nodded, “If you’ll still have me,” he replied. What he wanted to do was get on his knees and beg you to use your lips to end his suffering—beg that you use those hands to pull the sand out of his chest.

“Of course, I’d still have you, Jamil,” 

Your words were like a soothing balm. It was the salve that you spread over his burns, over his scars, and over the bruises that his yearning created, “Okay,” he said, and it was all he could manage to say for now. 

He picked up the kettle of tea and poured you some more. No matter what he did, he could not run away from you, his purpose. You forced the vagabond to stop and pulled the title right off of him, before pushing him into the waters of the oasis.

“We have some ma’amoul (semolina biscuit stuffed with date filling),” he says, after some silence.

[wingedhallows]

a little jealousy; sirius black

pairing: sirius black x reader | 0.9k words plot: fighting is normal but, making up is just as important. authors note: i hope u like this little something

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You hated this, the quiet. His hand would be around you, on your thigh, on your arms, his body flush against you, his voice blurring everything out. You missed him.

He avoided you, you had fought after all, over something stupid, you now realized. 

“That’s ridiculous.” He laughed as he turned his back to you. The surring anger inside your chest rose only further.

“So you think it’s ridiculous that I’m angry because Melanie fucking Primrose was hitting on you while I stood right fuckin’ next to you?!”

He brushed a hand over his face before he pushed a cigarette between his lips. He didn’t look at you, brushed your issue away like it wasn’t one at all.

“Sirius, look at me when I’m speaking to you.” He eyed you, blowing some smoke from his lips, mouth in a scowl.

“Sirius!” Your hand on his upper arm before he shrugged it off, his eyebrows drawn together.

“Back off, Y/N.” He blew some more smoke before he stepped away from you. He took his jacket and shrugged it on.

“Actin’ like my goddamn mother.”

You huffed in disbelief.

“You didn’t just compare me to your abusive, awful mother.” Your chest felt tight, your hands were icy cold.

“Oh please, you’re just like her. I can’t even stand the sight of you right now.”

He took a drag of his cigarette and walked past you, hitting your shoulder in the process.

You were still angry, livid even. He had compared you to his horrible mother, the woman you loathed for treating him like garbage. You’ve fought before, of course you did.

Every couple fights but never has he ever insulted you like this. Was that what he saw you like? As a woman so awful that he has to compare you to the woman who abused him for years on end?

 

“Why won’t you talk to him?” Lily’s hand rested on your arm, drink in hand. Reggie poured some more in your cup.

“Leave him be, he deserves to be miserable, to be honest.” You downed the insides of your cup before holding it out for the younger Black to fill it up again.

“You might want to slow down a bit or you’ll end up shit faced.” He commented before filling up the cup again. “James said he regrets acting like this.” Lily tried again but you shook your head.

“Why won’t he tell me then? If he regrets it so badly?” Reggie sighs and blows some smoke. “You’re acting childish.” You frowned at him, hands now crossed.

“You blew up in his face over something he didn’t even register and he compared you to our awful monster of a mother, I believe you’re kind of even.” 

You didn’t answer, you knew he was right. You watched Sirius glance at you before he took off to the balcony.

“Talk to him, apologize and please make up, I can’t take anymore of your weeping.” 

“Hi.” You tried, a cigarette in your mouth as you searched for a lighter. He was quicker and lit the cigarette for you. “Hello, love.” He said, putting his lighter away.

“I-”I’m” Both of you wanted to apologize, at the same time. A chuckle escaped the both of you as you stared ahead, the music buzzed behind you in a comforting manner.

“I wanted to apologize, I never should’ve said that to you. You’re nothing like my mother.” He paused and placed his hand in yours.

“You’re the most loving, beautiful and kindest woman I’ve ever known. I was angry and I spoke before thinking.” You nodded, taking a drag from your cigarette.

You turned to him, his hair fell over his eyes a bit, his eyes glassy. “I shouldn’t have made it such a big issue. I was jealous and let it out on you. I'm sorry.” He nodded, his thumb stroking your hand lovingly.

“I guess we’re both idiots.” You nodded and flicked your done cigarette off the balcony. Your hand found the back of his neck before you pulled him for a kiss.

“But if you let Melanie touch you like this once again I’m sneaking into your room at night and I’ll strangle you to death, got it?” 

His face stretched into a grin as he nodded, his eyes hooded. “Is that funny to you?” He chuckled as he placed a quick kiss on your lips.

“I kind of like you a little jealous.” You shook your head and grabbed for his cigarette, he let you.

“This is way more than just jealousy, I’m obsessed with you.” He tilted his head and grabbed your waist with his unoccupied arm, lips in a smile.

“I love you.” He whispered. You grabbed his face and placed a kiss on his lips.

“You’re mine, Sirius.” He nodded, your head on his chest. He placed a kiss on top of your head. “All yours, love.”

[thecreelhouse]

pray, but heaven won’t let you back

Paring: vampire!Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Summary: Since the night Steve lost control, he’s been pushing away, afraid to hurt you again. You’ll do anything to convince him you still trust him, even giving into the bloodlust he’s tried to avoid. || fic inspired by this post.

WC: 3k

CW/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, language, vampire nonsense/lore, blood play & blood sucking/feeding (nothing gory but still be cautious if you’re squeamish), mutual masturbation, dirty talk, lots of fluff and aftercare at the end

this is a modern vampire AU! can (kinda) be read as a standalone, but it’s a follow up to love’s the death of peace of mind and the bitter and the sweet.

A/N: i will never get sick of vampire!steve, so here’s another lil fic based off this post i saw earlier lmao. song title & lyrics are from worship - ari abdul. enjoy babes <3

pretty when you say my name like that / feel your lips trace down my neck / darlin', don't say nothin', just breathe pretty when you're looking up like that / pray but Heaven won't let you back / good on your knees

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It took one close call to push both you and Steve to question if you were right for one another. One slip up, where his lust for your blood called to him louder than usual; louder than your moans he earned through a skilled tongue you never grew tired of.

It took one close call for Steve to become rigid, self discipline at its height in your relationship.

It took one close call to set your desire in stone; you wanted Steve to turn you, wanted to join him in an eternity of a life you once believed wasn’t real. 

Blood play wasn’t foreign before that night, but it was always controlled, always with moderation and care. Now that Steve lost control, even only for a minute, he didn’t trust himself with you. He began growing distant, physically and emotionally, and it was burrowing under your skin, deeper and deeper as time carried on.

Steve still loved you, and though you could tell because of his avoidant behavior, it hurt. It was for your sake, your safety, and he made that clear; yet you were becoming lonely and agitated without his touch.

Even beyond lust, you just wanted him to hold you, and you wanted to hold him. You missed the way he’d play pretend, acting irritated when you’d kiss him one too many times on the cheek in a day. You longed for the way either of you would roll over in your sleep, searching for the other subconsciously. You felt like a stranger to him, a ghost in the walls of the home you shared with him.

Maybe you were foolish to believe this love could last; this all started with a Halloween party hookup, after all. Just another pathetic mortal that fell prey to a vampire’s charm.

You’re getting ready to go out with some friends when something breaks Steve, just enough for him to see he’s losing you, letting you slip through his fingers that once held you tightly with possession and protection.

Sitting at the vanity, the warmth of the lights lining mirror feels good on your skin. It’s not that you avoid the daylight for Steve’s sake; the lore of vampires burning up in the sunlight was nothing more than a myth. The sun does, however, irritate the fuck out of most vampires, still too bright, but bothersome in a sensory overload sort of way more than threatening. But since the night Steve lost control, and you began losing him, you rarely left bed these days.

You deserved to feel the warmth, any warmth, after receiving a cold shoulder from Steve for awhile now. You’ve lost track of the days he began to back away, but it’s far too long despite the specifics.

While you’re fixing your makeup, wrapped in a long, silky, dusty rose robe, Steve walks in; he’s surprised to find you not only up and out of bed, but all dolled up, too.

“H- hey, love.” He goes to lean against the doorframe, but miscalculates how close he is to the frame, falling into it instead. You stifle a laugh, watching his figure fumble in your peripheral vision as you dust blush along your cheeks.

“Hi.”

He holds his breath while crossing his arms over his chest, waiting for a follow up with an expectant smile; it falls flat when you continue to ignore him.  

“So… going somewhere?”

You still won’t look at him, another response multitasked as you work on your eye makeup. “Uh-huh.”

Steve’s eyes catch on the deep red, silky dress you have waiting for a night out, hung up on the door by its hanger. “Th- you’re going out in that?” He remembers gifting it to you for the holidays, joking he could never let you out of his sight if you wore it in public; he trusted you, but surely not any men around you. 

Now, you’re planning on wearing it for the first time while out with your friends, and not him. Jealousy bubbles up within him.

“Your observational skills are great, Steve.” Your response is so harsh; even you feel bad for giving the frost right back to him. 

“Thought you’d save it for one of our date nights,” He grumbles, like a child. You finally glance over at him, eyes narrowing as they meet his.

“What, do I need your permission to wear it?”

“No, don’t twist my words.”

“Steve, this is the most you’ve talked to me in weeks.” You leave the vanity to change into your dress. With a quick tug of the tie of your robe, it slinks to the floor. Your back is to him, missing the way his jaw slacks to the floor at the sight of your lingerie set: a red, lacy set that hugs your curves deliciously; another gift from him, one without reason. “What, are you jealous? I’m done moping around and waiting for your attention.”

Steve loved showering you in gifts, especially in his favorite color— how typical of a vampire to love the color red; though you tried insisting you needed nothing more but him, he couldn’t help himself from spoiling you.

A groan slips out of him as two things push to the front of his mind:

He’s painfully aroused, tenting in his tight pants, in need of relief. 

That, and the bloodlust he’s been fighting since that close call is back, full force.

One minute, you’re reaching for the dress to change into, the next, he’s shoving you against the nearest wall. You gasp as he pins your arms above your head with one large hand easily holding both of your wrists. 

“Steve—“

“Might wanna text your friends, let ‘em know you’re running late.” He rolls his hips into yours roughly, earning the first pleasing sound from you tonight; you whimper and pout as his other hand grabs you by the chin, grip hard. “Oh, princess, am I throwing your night off?”

You can’t bring yourself to answer while his hand leaves your face, wasting no time to grope your chest with a cruel touch. You arch into his grip and mewl, eyes fluttering shut as he kicks your legs apart before slotting a leg against your core. Instinctively, you grind onto his thigh, heat already sticky through the lacy fabric you wear.

“Might not make it there at all, huh?” He’s mocking you, taunting you, and you’re infuriated. You’re pissed he’s pulling this after weeks of being distant, and you’re really pissed at yourself for instantly melting under his touch. 

Pushing through the haze of desire, you glare at him. “Steve, enough.”

“Oh, c’mon, since when are you not into—“

“I said enough.”

You’re trying to steady your breaths as you hold a cold stare with him; his features falter, hands releasing you before stepping back. 

“I’m sorry,” Any and all confidence is thrown out the window as he shrinks under your vexed gaze. “I- I— I’ve just— fuck. I fucked up, alright?”

You’re nowhere near as strong as him, yet when you push him back with your hand on his chest, he stumbles back. You push him again, and again, and once more, until the backs of his legs hit the bed, throwing his balance off. He falls back onto the mattress, panting lightly as his stare is fixated on you above him.

“You can’t do this shit, Steve. You can’t touch me when you want then leave me alone like nothing matters. I told you I’m not afraid of you, I trust you.”

“Yeah, and I cracked any trust by losing control—“

“Steve, this is who you are!” You reach out, cradling his head in your hands on either side of his face. He can’t resist leaning into your touch, guilt playing up on his features. “I’ve accepted that from the start. I’ve accepted the risk since the first night together. What I didn’t accept or agree to was being treated like a total stranger by the one I love most.”

“I know. I know. I just wanted to keep you safe. All I want is for you to be safe, and happy. All I want is for you to feel loved, and I hurt you instead. I’m sorry.” He sounds so pained, nuzzling into your palm while he grabs your arm, pushing your hand against his face harder.

Aside from the last few weeks, there have never been moments where you felt shoved away, or less than Steve. And now, it’s only happening because he thought it would protect you. Just the honest admission alone shows you he meant well, even if he hurt you. It wasn’t intentional, just like the night he lost control. He knows he hurt you, but it was never intentional.

You can tell Steve is fighting the instinctual hunger for your blood; his eyes are dark with desire, but teetering on the edge of falling into that deep red shade that could only signal trouble. His grip on your arm shakes as he restrains himself from overpowering you again.

You try to keep him with you, asking softly, “Make it up to me?”

“H- how? I’ll do anything, anything you want, love.” His breaths run shallow as you straddle his lap, hands snaking around to the back of his head; you gently push his face towards your neck, but he leans back. “I— okay, anything but— honey, I can’t.”

“You want to.”

“Doesn’t m- mean I should.” Steve is so conflicted; he wants this, he needs you. You want him, you need him, too. But it’s a risk with the odds against him.

“I’m giving you the green light, Steve.” You kiss his forehead, then his cheek, leading to his lips. Before you kiss them, you murmur, “I trust you.” 

He closes the gap with a frantic kiss, one arm slinking around your hips to your back, the other exploring your body clumsily. He catches your bottom lip between his teeth, fangs scraping along the skin. You yelp, and Steve stops.

“Love, we— this is—“ His gaze sinks deeper into that shade of red you once knew as a signal for danger, but you trust him. You know him. You know he’d never take it too far, not to a level where you couldn’t handle it. “You’re not— I’m not ready to turn you yet—“

“I didn’t expect that. I wouldn’t complain, but I promise that’s not what I’m asking for right now.” You roll your hips onto his bulge, strained under the tight fabric of his pants still. “I’m just asking you to trust me. Trust me, to trust you.”

Steve searches your gaze for any doubt, any signs of faltering or second guessing; there’s only certainty and adoration. You nod softly, encouraging him once more.

In a flash, you’re thrown to the pillows at the top of the bed, landing on them with a surprised laugh. Steve crawls above you, with a warm smile of his own, despite the red in his gaze. 

“You’ll stop me if—“

“Yes, yeah, just—“

He cuts you off with a rough kiss, fangs poking at your lips before he kisses along your jawline, trailing to your neck. When he reaches the crook of your neck, he sucks softly, earning airy moans from you while you grab him by his shirt. He laughs breathily into your skin, tickling you.

“Starting to think you like this more than I do,” He teases after pulling off your neck, spit with a hint of red dripping from the corner of his mouth. You nod with a dazed giggle, a sound he’s missed so, so dearly since pushing away. “I’m so sorry, love.” He ducks into your neck again, murmuring in between kisses, “You’re my everything.”

Stealing the spotlight from your answer, he tests the waters by sinking his fangs into your neck, ever so slightly. You gasp, arching up into him.

“Sensitive little thing,” He teases, kitten licking at the few drops of blood on your skin. He delves back in, sinking his fangs a little deeper. A sharp, pained gasp leaves your lips, and it’s almost enough to make him stop, but it dissolves into a satisfied moan. “What’d you think was gonna happen tonight? You’d find someone else?”

Here comes the possessive attitude you always crave. 

“N- no, don’t want anyone else but you.”

He’s lapping at the blood now, sucking intermittently as it flows out. He’s in such a heady daze, beginning to whimper into your skin.

“S’what I thought, princess.” He sucks stronger this time, groaning into you as he feeds. “Fuck, y’taste so goddamn good, love.”

You’re reaching the dizzy, intoxicating thrill achieved only when Steve takes you like this. The only sensation that has ever come close is when he chokes you, plays with your air and blood flows, but it’s never the same as when he feeds off your blood.

Giggly and growing lightheaded, the pain has become full pleasure to you at this point. “You ever cum from sucking blood?” The question is silly, to you, but not to Steve. He lets out a guttural moan, mouth still on your skin. The teamwork of his fangs in your neck, his lips sucking blood out, and his tongue soothing over the wounds make you whine and writhe underneath him. 

“Every time y’let me drink yours— f- fuck—“

You didn’t even notice his pants were finally down, halfway, at least; he’s fisting his cock, precum spilling onto you from his rosy, swollen tip while he continues to work at your neck. The noises he makes are pornographic at this point. You reach around to hold him, hand to the back of his head, cradling him close.

“Touch yourself, love.”

Obeying, your other hand slides down between the two of you, fingers finally meeting your clit. You lazily rub in circles, eyes fluttering shut with a blissed out smile. “Steve…”

“This turns you on just as much as it does for me, huh?” You always gonna be fucked out every time I drink from you?”

You nod, head in the clouds; the two of your hands continue to bump against one another every so often, setting off little grunts and whimpers. “Uh-huh…”

“Imagine h- how wrecked you’ll be when I…” His hips stutter as he continues jerking off. “… when I turn you. Might like sucking blood more than y’like sucking my cock.”

You gasp at his words, nodding wildly as he pulls back, looking down at you with devotion and desire.

“You doin’ okay, love?” Steve asks, shuddering, close to his high. “Can I- I- m’so close…”

You hum with a dopey smile, “Here,” is all you can manage to say as you pull your bra down, exposing your chest. Steve only lasts a second longer before he finally reaches his high, spilling onto your tits as he moans lowly, echoing against the walls. The sight of him coming undone above you, the feeling of his spend against your skin, the intoxication of losing blood, it’s all more than enough to follow him with your own climax. 

Moaning for only a moment, Steve pushes forward, crashing his lips into yours, melding together with the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue. When he pulls back, you’re left panting sleepily, fucked out despite only getting off from your own touch and his fangs in your neck.

“Love, you know it’ll be hard to turn you knowing I’d have to give this up, right?” You reach up to him, gently touching his face. He takes your hand in his, kissing the back of your knuckles softly.

“S’okay, we can wait a lil’ longer.” You watch the shade of red in his eyes settle into the calm, muted red they usually are. Before you can praise him for being successful in holding himself under control, he kisses you quickly.

“Stay here, gonna get some stuff to clean up,” He does exactly that, returning with towels to clean off with and a first aid kit. He hands over a water bottle to you, careful not to make you spill it as he runs his tongue softly along the wounds, healing them with ease as he’s done plenty of times before. The first aid kit is kind of useless by now, but he still properly cleans around the newly healed wounds.

When Steve finishes, he gently lifts your head up toward his, searching for any signs of distress. “How’re you feeling?”

“Sleepy.”

He nods, “No tingling or weird feelings like last time, right?”

“Right,” You smile, curling up next to him with a content sigh. “Can we take a bubble bath?”

“You’re half asleep,” Shaking his head, he chuckles, “I don’t want you to drown.”

“Says the guy who just stabbed my neck with his teeth.”

“Yeah, you’re fine. The sass is back.” Then he remembers, you had plans. “Hey, did you get to tell your friends you weren’t coming? Sorry for stealing your night, love.”

“I didn’t have plans, just was hoping that’d get your attention finally,” You snuggle even closer, resting your head on his chest. Meanwhile, he scoffs out a laugh as he finds out you tricked him. He couldn’t even be mad, though, because it worked. Breaking his thoughts, you mutter, “You did it, y’know.”

Steve’s brows furrow, “What’d I do?” He’s lost, assuming you’re babbling sleepily.

“Your eyes changed back. You didn’t lose control.” You’re falling into slumber fast. “I meant it when I said I trust you, Steve.”

He kisses the top of your head, arms holding you close. “I trust you, love. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

You’re down for the count, only able to murmur back, “Love you, Steve.” He watches as your breaths fall low and steady, finding safety and comfort while the two of you are back where you belong— in each other’s arms.

Steve’s nowhere near ready to turn you, but when the time comes, he’s certain it’s part of both of your futures, intertwined into one. He knows now the two of you are meant to spend eternity together.

Until then, he’ll cherish this complicated love between human and vampire; he’ll cherish you as you are now, before that becomes a mere memory once he brings you over to his side of life.

Eyes growing heavy, Steve whispers to you, now fast asleep, “I love you, too. ‘Til the end of time.”

[weskie]

Perfectionist (Albert Wesker x afab!Reader)

18+ | this man deserves to hump the bed, oral sex (reader receiving), afab anatomy gn!reader, amab version here | Fic Directory

Particular.  Methodical. Precise.

Starved.

All words fit to describe the way Wesker handles you.  Even now, even with his face buried between your legs, he works with such intense mindfulness.  Every swipe of his tongue, each bruising nibble to your thighs or heady suckle to your swollen bud is done with the sole intention of bringing you the most pleasure possible.  

Wesker is a perfectionist, and you are the canvas upon which he will paint.  He will carve the beauty of your bliss into this world one swipe at a time, for hours on end if he must. Even in the midst of such a primal deed, he is nothing but grace– until he isn’t.  Until you catch, by sheer luck, the sight of his hips grinding down against the bed.  Just once. 

Just one little slip of his self control.

But how fucking euphoric to know you push him to such extremes.  That the mere taste of your nectar can unravel his unyielding poise is enough to undo you.  With your hands in his hair, gripping, tugging, voice squeaking and pleading, you feel the lightning strike of your release burst through you.  It tingles into your limbs, down your spine.  You arch and squirm, but he holds you in place effortlessly.

He always does.

And he doesn’t stop…  

He laps at your through all of it, fingers beckoning slick from your quivering cunt to feed his insatiable appetite.  His little sounds aren’t lost on you.  The heavy, panted breaths; the little moan here or there; that one particularly drawn out hum of delight when your thighs clamped tight around his head.  

You peer from under heavy eyelids when you feel his lips at your thighs once more, peppering soft kisses as you come down from your release.  To your surprise, his gaze is anything but soft– so unlike his actions.  You find him staring with determined, voracious eyes– red as ever, boring deep into you.  The juxtaposition ignites the strangest blendings of anticipation and adoration.  He’s promising you silently and loudly all at once: you belong to him. 

You are his down to the molecular level and beyond– to the little building blocks of each and every atom in your body. He has made his claim.

The fingers within you continue their motions and his thumb falls to your tender bud.  Wesker is silent as he works you back to madness, basking in the trembling of your legs, nuzzling against the inside of your thigh to feel and watch each and every reaction.  

You can see him faltering again.  So subtle, but you catch the way his hips move. Poor thing. His pants must feel so tight by now… 

You wish he wasn’t so damn dignified all the time.  If he’d only accept that he was allowed the simple pleasures, that he could let go of some of that pride and hump the bed like any normal man.  God, you’d fucking love to see it.  Even just that little gyration was enough to make you clench around his digits.

You can see in his eyes that he’s doing everything in his power to resist it.  

You use your grip in his hair to push him back to your aching core.  His lips curl in a smirk at your clit and you wish more than anything that you could kiss that damned look off his face.  

“Mm, god!” You mewl, knowing full well what such an exclamation means to him. Not a plea to a higher power, no… 

That title is his. 

“So, so good…” you gasp, pushing up to meet his soft tongue. Through the haze, you see it happen again. The smallest arch of his back, the lightest rocking of his hips. 

Is that what he needs? 

“That's– that's it!” 

Again. 

“Al… oh god!” 

Let him know how good he’s doing.

You resist biting back a moan, just to further test the waters. You let those little whimpers sing freely, let his name fall from your lips and your hands tug and pull at his hair. You even dig one of your heels into his back, and then you hear it. 

Nearly silent, Wesker's gasping, open-mouthed whine reverberates against your sopping folds. The sound dances to your ears, more beautiful than any melody to ever grace the world. 

Your fingers curl tighter in his locks, pressing him closer. With your back arched and feet braced, you grind up against his face. Both of his arms lock around your thighs as if, by some measure, to remind you that it’s only by his good graces that you’re allowed to use him so wantonly. 

Another weak noise quivers against your aching cunt, and you find it in yourself to fight off the tendrils of release seeping through every fiber of your being just to watch him.

“I love it!” You gasp, perhaps just a little too breathily.  “L-Love you!”

Which, of course, earns you that reaction you so desperately want.  This time your treat is two sharp rocks of his hips and the unmistakable creak of the bedframe protesting against his strength.

You’re playing such a dangerous game with him.  What if you get what you want, hm?  What if you make the man-made god come in his pants?  What then?

Surely there will be consequences for pushing him into such a position.  Perhaps he’ll make you lick him clean.  No, no… that’s hardly a punishment.  What if he threw you over his knee?

Also not quite the worst case scenario.

So you sing for him.  With every little breath, you vocalize how good it feels, how good he feels, until suddenly those subtle grinds against the bed are anything but and he’s practically growling against your heat.  

His eyes are screwed shut, brow furrowed, tongue fucking in and out of you while his nose presses to your clit, and he humps against the bed as though the panopticon of his pride had never been there at all to observe such a desperate act unbecoming of a god.

The sight sends you hurtling over the edge, back rising from the bed as you shiver and shake and gush more slick for his greedy tongue.  His name falls from your lips over and over like a prayer, and by the time your back hits the bed once more you hear and feel him finding his own release as he thrusts away at nothing.

The thought alone of what just happened is enough to make you see stars…

You pet through his hair affectionately, cooing praise until those piercing eyes crack open and stare lazily through the haze.  His mouth stays pressed at the base of your mound, slick glistening at the tip of his nose and the curve of his cheek– too invested in painting his masterpiece to realize he’d become part of it.

Eventually though, you manage to get him to crawl back up.  You thumb away at the mess, utterly hypnotized when he grabs your wrist and sucks your digit clean. You can see it in his eyes… You feel it in the way he kisses you.

Ever the perfectionist, Albert Wesker is far from finished with you.

[i-hate-accidents]

Would you ever consider writing the conversation Anthony had with Benedict in his bedchamber? When he scolded Ben for being alone with Y/N?

the author would like to share that upon reading your message, they immediately said, out loud, to no one but for herself to hear, "that is a BRILLIANT idea." she offers many thanks for your idea and your generosity in sharing it. <3

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ ✕ ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

i hate accidents: a drabble

femme!reader x benedict bridgerton, femme!reader & the bridgerton family, femme!reader & penelope featherington

summary:  the adventures of a working class femme who befriends a fellow writer, a boisterous family, and a bewitching second eldest son

sections:  I. the beginning / II. the between / III. the ball

y/n:  bipoc, she/her, afab, nonbinary femme, queer, working class, of immigrant parents

content warnings:  brief description of grief from losing a parent

word count:  623

author’s note:  the character of y/n, whilst heavily talked about, does not appear in this drabble. the author hopes you enjoy these bickering brothers~

𝄆 ⚘ ✸ ✕ ✸ ⚘ 𝄇

anthony turns towards him, quiet fury simmering in his eyes.

"brother," begins benedict, "i—"

"have you lost your fucking mind!" booms anthony.

"if you just let me explain—"

"have you compromised y/n?"

"what!"

"i said!  have you compromised y/n!"

"how can you even insinuate that!  of course i have not!"

"and why should i trust what you say?"

"because i am your brother!"

"precisely!  you are my brother!  you lie to me as naturally as you breathe!"

that is something, benedict admits to himself, i cannot deny.

"well!  i have no reason to lie now!" he declares aloud.

"and you expect me to believe that?  when i saw your mouth and her mouth mere breaths away from one another?"

lightning shoots throughout benedict’s body and butterflies erupt in his stomach at the memory.  the two of you were, indeed, mere breaths away from—— from—

"see," anthony interrupts, "you have nothing to say.  are you finally admitting to your guilt?"

"we were discussing my art!  that is all!"

"i am not a fool, benedict!"

"you look like one!"

"and you act like one! alone! in your bedchamber! with a lady!  our friend!  how do you think our family will react when they hear of your impropriety?"

"you make it sound as if this were some, some— devious scheme!"

anthony shakes his head.

"brother, i know you are in love with y/n—"

it would have been kinder if anthony shot him point blank in his chest.

benedict gapes at him, but his brother merely responds with an expression that makes him feel like a naive child.

"benedict, please.  your affection for y/n is deeply apparent to everyone in this house. mother, kate, our siblings, the servants, penelope.  good god, francesca, daph, and hastings even know, and they are not even here. you," anthony states simply, "are in love."

"i have not said anything of the sort!"

"so what do you mean to say? that you do not love y/n?"

benedict freezes. he feels the swell of his heart and its collapsing all in a mere breath.

of course i do.  of course i love y/n.

he swallows.

"it matters not what i feel.  it matters what she deserves."

y/n deserves someone good.  someone who will not hurt her.  someone who is not me.

anthony’s face softens, and it would be an expression that would be kind if benedict didn’t feel as though he was on the receiving end of its pity.  still, it reassures him.  anthony’s gentleness seemed to have passed when their father had.  it seemed to no longer have existed as a possibility within him; and then kate entered their lives.  whenever he sees evidence of its restoration, benedict cannot help but feel gratitude—even, as in this moment, at the cost of his own pain.

anthony sighs.

"did you two have to be in your bedchamber?"

benedict rolls his eyes.

"this is where all my art is!  but it shan't happen again."

"oh, that i will make certain."

he furrows his eyebrows.

"what is that supposed to mean?"

"did you truly think i would let you get away with this indiscretion?  you have completely disgraced y/n!"

"nothing!  happened!"

"bedchamber!  together!  ALONE!" anthony checks his pocket watch and, with its closing, resumes a dignified composure.  "i am done with this conversation.  we have kept y/n waiting long enough.  we must go to her promptly, offer our deepest apologies, and ensure that she is safe and well after this event.  we will be most fortunate, indeed, if she chooses to absolve us from your transgression."

benedict puts his hands over his face.  of all the people in the world, why did his elder brother have to be anthony bridgerton?

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