#very short character study maybe?
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Prompt
Robin Jason, thanks to time travel or whatever, meeting Red Hood.
Pre-Death Jason is the kid who grew up in crime alley, the kid who watched his mom die slowly of addiction, the kid who understands only too well how desperate people can lose their way.
He's the kid whose last act in his first life was to try and shield the woman who helped cause his death - he literally threw himself between Sheila and the explosion, even knowing what she did.
That kid meets Canon Red Hood - drug dealing crime lord who dishes out blatant cop propaganda of 'letting punishment fit the crime', who claims to protect children while attacking Tim and Damian, who considers himself as someone keeping people safe while killing random henchmen - a lot of them probably like his father, ending up in a life of crime to survive - and straight up murdering mentally ill people who are being treated in Arkham (no, not Joker or anyone, just normal ill people) because he could.
And all that is putting aside what he did to Dick and Bruce, Jason's family.
Robin Jason Vs Red Hood.
I think Jason would be properly horrified and so, so mad, because in his mind there is no excuse to act the way Red Hood does.
But when he finds out about how he died? How Joker (seemingly) only got a slap on the wrist and stuffed back into Arkham just to run rampant again a few months later? How his death had “little enough” impact for there to be another Robin not even a year later? How Bruce sliced Red Hood’s throat to save Joker?
Yeah, personally I don’t see Jason just being okay with that.
He still wouldn’t be on Red Hood’s side either, but it would throw a lot of things into perspective. Namely, Red Hood’s.
And also if Bruce truly believes everyone can be saved, why didn’t the same apply to Red Hood? What did Red Hood do that’s worse than any of the crimes Joker committed that would justify almost being killed by someone he considered a father figure?
It’s hurt… a very complicated situation. Kid!Jason doesn’t have any of the memories or experiences that would estrange him from the family the way Red Hood was, but he also can’t deny somewhere along the line, something went catastrophically wrong.
And he basically turned into his worst nightmare.
#Jason todd#very short character study maybe?#anyway yeah#just some thoughts#batfamily#batfam#bruce wayne#robin#jaybin#red hood
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He deserves a bit of everything, as a treat (Patreon)
#Doodles#Wander Over Yonder#Commander Peepers#Up front - that first one was very inspired by one of Kurole's sketches of him - absolutely spectacular use of shapes ahhh <3 <3#His iris dripping directly into his tears?? Excuse me I die immediately#I did a full study later since as noted that one was from memory lol - not quite! Kurole's shapes are so pretty ♪#Peeps' shapes are some of the funnest to move around! He's so stretchy and squishy lol#He's so fun to pose#At first I was just going to doodle Peeps in the outfit the Watchdogs drew him in for The Cartoon because cute!#But I figured it'd be easier if started with the actual shapes they used - dissect how they lay on each other and all that#Turns out the bean form is also very cute hehe <3 They can try to make him as stereotypically dorky as they want! He's still the cutest!#He is quite handsome in the same outfit at his usual proportions tho#Not me always enjoying characters in glasses/putting characters in glasses#Of all the features I myself have that'd be the last one I would expect to be So about lol#Plus the little heels on his boots?? I can't believe the Watchdogs were Completely making a mockery of him hehe ♪#Maybe mocking him a little bit for being short but he loves heels! He loves feeling tall!#And they match his shirt? Fashionable all the way around ✨#Last one of him on Ziziks and trying(? maybe?? Lol maybe not) to relax#Open tourist-y shirt over loose swim trunks >>>#Gotta dork it up with the visor gloves and boots tho lol hopefully he put on sunscreen too#What would burnt Watchdog skin look like anyhow :0 Redder?#You just know he's still on call even if he managed to get some time off - and if he was forced off he's on call by choice lol#Little workaholic
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19 for the worldbuilding prompts + Torr?
the profound quiet of a small settlement at night
North Eastmarch is freezing cold all over, but it wears different outside the city than within.
Torr would never call Windhelm warm – not even in summer months, no matter how used to it they are – but what little heat it has it clings to with great determination. The walls huddle together, trapping the air so that it’s either still and muggy or a howling wind, like each close-knit house is breathing in tandem. The heat of the people run up and down its streets, blood through its knotted stone veins. The city is alive, an ecosystem unto itself; its snow, dark with footprints, runs sludgy down the roads; a fireplace is always burning somewhere.
Outside of the walls, surrounded by nothing but empty air and snow-laden trees, a slow-moving stream running with barely a burble – it feels dead, in contrast. Silent. Branches reach needle-sharp across the blue-black sky, the ground is gleaming white and undisturbed by anyone else’s footprints, and the nearest fire is the barely visible gleam of the Kynesgrove mining camp, up the hill and through the sporadic spindles of the trees. The breeze ghosts past Torr’s neck and whips the mud-stained snow into a flurry.
In the city, Torr’s comfortable sleeping almost anywhere – as comfortable as they ever get, anyway. Some of the buildings have great gaps under the porch where the snow can’t reach and no-one ever finds them; there’s places in the nooks of the walls, and sheds built into the side of the house that people don’t lock, and Torr knows a few people besides who don’t mind him kipping on their floor every now and again, as long as he doesn’t ask too often. The outside isn’t like that. There’s not many places to go. He’s lurking around Kynesgrove tonight – on his way back from a quick venture out to get some things done that pay better than running errands around the markets – and there aren’t many options. The inn, which he can’t afford – the mine, which would be warm but is very guarded – the miner’s encampment or someone’s house, both of which would most likely result in being chased off. Besides, there’s a performative element to meeting people, especially adults, in strange places, and Torr’s not in the mood to play to strangers. So much of his being is caught up in Windhelm’s grimy alleys, tangled in the hair and fingers of its discarded children; he doesn’t know how to be himself away from it all.
But they don’t have to, seeing as there’s the rickety old sawmill on the edge of a stream feeding into the harbour. It’s not bad, as shelter goes; no walls, so the wind rubs its fingers wraithlike down Torr’s cheeks and tangles them in his hair, but at least there’s a roof. It looks newly thatched, too, the floorboards free of rot, the water-wheel still chugging creakily along. There’s no wood to cut here, all the nearby surrounding trees too scraggy to be worth the bother. The only big ones are part of the grove up on the hill. There’s no point in keeping the mill running, but Torr is glad it is; he watches the distant firelight flickering through the scrub, and listens to the splashing of the wheel. It’s proof that people and the things they make do still exist – if not necessarily here.
It really feels dead, out in the cold, with the leafless trees and the wind that doesn’t even whisper. It always does. It’s a bit discomfiting, which is maybe why Torr doesn’t go on out-of-city endeavours as often as perhaps he could; but really, there’s not work out here enough to make it worth it. There’s always problems with bandits on the road, but Torr’s not a good enough fighter for bounty work; there’s collecting plants and things to sell Nurelion, but that’s easy enough to do on a day trip. (And, really, it’s more for Torr’s own enjoyment, besides. They never even venture far south enough to get to the sulphur pools, which is where the more interesting things grow.)
This trip, though, is an outlier. Unusually efficient. Just a quick job for Niranye, scouting a merchant’s cart on the road – almost definitely for something shady, but that’s not Torr’s business, and it was too much money too easy to turn down. And then – just earlier today, foraging out in the wilderness as best as Torr (a distinctly urban animal) knows how – they’d come across a giant’s corpse, stiff and white as the snow it lay in. Torr’s no master alchemist but they know the value of a cadaver when it comes to brewing alloys and admixtures, so they set to with their blunt-edged dagger and now they’ve got a sack full of what may as well be gold. (Long as it doesn’t start to rot before they can get Nurelion to preserve it, anyway.)
Torr’s going to be rolling in it when they get back to Windhelm. They could use that money for nearly anything – pay off a few things they borrowed, new warm things now that winter’s coming back strong, bedrolls, waterskins. Endless options – which, strangely, is more exciting than it is burdensome.
It’s all the sort of decision that would ordinarily feel life-or-death urgent but right now feels – not small. Not insignificant, not at all, but distant. A choice to be made at another time, by another person.
(Torr’s whole being belongs to Windhelm’s back streets. They’re someone else, away from it all.)
That’s the other thing about leaving the city, spending time in the discomfiting slow-paced ghost-world outside. It’s quiet. Torr sits surrounded by the wind in the trees, the lazy murmur of the stream, the creak of the water-wheel, and nothing else.
He’s been called a worrywart (mostly by Griss in a strop) but to tell the truth he doesn’t think that’s true. Torr doesn’t fuss for the sake of fussing, he just doesn’t like to leave things undone; can’t stop until he finds a solution. Out here, alone, in the empty cold, there are no solutions to find – same old problems back home, he knows, but no steps he can take at this time to right them. That’s never true while he’s in the city, so he can never stop thinking about it, every choice and action accompanied by a buzzing background chorus of everything else he really should be doing – that really should have been done by now – that should never have been left undone this long, what was he thinking? Everything is urgent when it’s doable. But here and now, there’s nothing to do.
So Torr sits hunched on the board floor of the ramshackle watermill, huddled among their heaps of bags and blankets, and thinks of nothing at all.
Not strictly true. They think of supper – haven’t eaten since an apple this morning, except for some snowberries they found around noon, and it’s been a long day. They nabbed some turnips from the garden of the Kynesgrove inn on their way to the mill. They’re fresh, if nothing else – also covered in dirt, so Torr rises reluctantly from their pile of stuff to crouch on the banks of the stream and dip the vegetables in to clean them off. It aches like hell, the frozen water turning their joints to ice – they almost drop the turnip they’re washing, so they scrub it as best they can with the frigid pad of their thumb and whip their hands out of the water soon as they’re able. They stick their fingers in their mouth to warm them back up.
Even after all that time spent warming up their hands, arraying all their belongings back around themself to conserve body heat, the turnips are still cold enough to hurt Torr’s teeth when he bites in. He eats them anyway, relishing a little in the unearthly silence and the aching of his lips and palms. They taste delicious.
With nothing else to do after, the gnawing of his stomach sated, he wraps himself in his shawl and stares up the hill at the camp’s fire until it goes out. The stars wink into brighter being. The wind whistles through the whip-thin branches of the trees. The water-wheel creaks.
Torr sleeps, but he feels like he hears it all – a silent observer, an echo, a beginning – until morning.
#I considered doing something with post-questline torr for this#but it would have been so fucking sad#and I didn't want to write something that was so fucking sad!#I'll post about torr after the horrors eventually but Not Today.#this was also initially supposed to be an exercise in writing something short that focused more on a distinctive atmosphere#than a scene or character study as most of my pieces are.#oops.#snowballed into an absolute monster of a ramble.#maybe sometime I'll use these prompts to write Actually Short pieces with more of a focus on the worldbuilding aspect...#would be good practice. everything I've written lately has been a thousand words minimum.#I could write about my minor characters or npcs with it too... yeah I think I'll do that at some stage#but. anyway. I quite like this piece as a sort of study#I fucking love writing characters who are having a nice time. with just a hint. just a whisper. of the problems#I enjoyed putting in the reference to the alchemical giant's toes especially because that is an allusion no-one but me understands#to a line in one of my very bad very early pieces on torr#it's not well written but I loved that bit because it's such a wonderful microcosm of the way torr is even before the murder cult thing#Yes he's the busiest most hardworking caretaking boy in the world taking trips into the wilderness (comparatively) to feed his family#and Yes his first instinct on seeing a corpse is to cut it up and sell it for parts#(he's done this to human bodies too but only in extremely specific circumstances. the risk of legal repercussions is too great otherwise)#I'll make a post rambling sometime about torr's ethical system because I'm so obsessed with them and their unhinged point of view#Anyway#done rambling#my writing#fay writes#oc tag#torr#the elder srolls#tes#skyrim#tesblr
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Talia took a 20+ Year Undercover mission a while ago
So! Talia is the Daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, and has been alive and at his side for many years now. Decades even. She is well into her 100's, even though her physical Body looks like that of a 20 yr old.
And in all the years that she has lived, what's to say she didn't take a few years off as a vacation? Even Ra's must take a few years off every once in a while, leaving to spend time on some remote island he can relax on for once. So, one day in the Early 80's she decided to do the same.
But she wouldn't be completely relaxing, she would take the break to further the League's goals still. She decided to Dye her Hair, change her Name, get into an acceptable College, and study Lazarus Waters to their scientific limit. She decided to name if Ectoplasm, to avoid any unwanted attention.
And while there, she met a pair of men doing the exact same.
Jack and Vladimir were nice enough. Although their Research was more focused on Ghosts, or as she would call them, Pit Demons. They were convinced that Ectoplasm and Ghosts came from another Dimension, and if they could find a way to open a Dimension Gateway to this theoretical Ghost Zone, they could aquire Limitless Clean Energy (and maybe find a way to contain the Ghostly threat).
Over the years, Talia Maddie would fall for Jack. Eventually, even after she had completed her College Studies and Vlad had left contact with them, she decided to extend her Vacation to further study Ectoplasm with Jack. One thing led to another, and eventually she found herself pregnant. And then it happened again.
Jazzmine and Daniel were the cutest little babies. But she knew the danger they would be in if it was ever discovered that she was their Mother, so she trained them in everything she could so they could survive. She knew her time as Maddie Fenton was coming short, but she resolved to stay, at the very least until Jazz was an Adult.
She didn't account for Daniel becoming a Small Town Hero, but those were just the Trials of motherhood.
Then, the day came. She left a note on her bedside table explaining that she regretted what had to happen, and left in the middle of the night. It was better this way.
...
The year right after she returned, her Father forced her to have a Child with his most prospective Heir. The Bat, he called himself. Oh he was Charming, there was no denying that, but unfortunately she was still working through her feelings about Jack.
She treated her resulting child poorly because of that, and that she regreted it deeply. She loved him, honestly she did, but it was hard to look at him and not remember Daniel. Still, she persevered.
The day she once again had to give up her son for his protection was the hardest of her life.
But it was unavoidable. The Coup that had taken her Father's life had also fractured the Organization, anyone could have taken their shot at her Son as the rightful Heir. She needed to protect him as she took care of the Traitors.
...
Damian always knew he was the One True Heir. It was his defining character trait for his early years of life. Even though he had grown to be more than just that over recent years, he always felt like it was a key part of his identity.
Until now.
Because the BatComputer had just finished running a DNA Test on the Blood of a man who he had spotted on his Patrol the previous night.
A DNA Test that had come back, with results claiming that the man, who looked almost exactly like a younger male version of his Mother, was his Half Brother.
#Dpxdc#Dp x dc#Dcxdp#Dc x dp#Danny Phantom#Dc#Dcu#Talia Al Ghul#Jack Fenton#Maddie Fenton#Talia Al Ghul is Maddie Fenton#She went on an Undercover Mission/Vacation to scientifically study Lazarus Water#She met Jack and Vlad in the College she was undercover at#She fell for Jack and his Himbo attitude#She knew that Danny was a Ghost/Pit Demon but decided to test if he had actually remembered any of her self defense lessons#She got Jack to agree to it#She will admit she may have gone a step too far (the threats over dinner were a bit much)(so was keeping the act up for so long)#Danny was 16 when she left an 17 when she had Damian#Jazz was 18 when she left and 19 when she had Damian#Currently Danny is 29 and Jazz is 31#They never did figure out where their mother went#But they will never forgive her for what she did to her Dad#Jack was heartbroken#He still is#He got better over time but it took a while to begin to heal
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I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...
Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.
They get cast in the new Batman movie.
Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.
He's still very hot.
Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.
The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.
Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".
Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.
Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"
Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"
The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.
And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!
But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.
A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.
The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"
Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."
Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.
Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."
Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE
#steddie#steddie drabble#steddie au#steve harrington#eddie munson#robin buckley#chrissy cunningham#actor au
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Taking Your Crown
Alexia has booked you for a special night.
Warning - smut, fingering, anal play, choking, strap, bdsm play, fluff & after care
‘Ping’
You heard a notification come up on your phone, you looked at the screen.
“Gold Package Booking’ 9pm - 9am Tonight”
You raised your eyebrows in surprise, this was the most expensive service you provided. You looked over the details, not that there really was much detail, there never was. Not in your line of work.
You did look at the tick box that they had to fill out before submitting, their “wants and needs”. And surprisingly they had ticked many of the options.
Foreplay (Yes),
Penetration (Yes),
Giving (Yes),
Receiving (Yes),
Praise kink (Yes),
Pain threshold - (High),
Toys - (Yes),
Anal play (Yes),
Air Restriction (Yes),
Bondage (Yes),
Orgasm denial (Yes),
Sensory play (Yes),
But what really made you smile was seeing that it was a woman who had booked you. You had women book you before but they weren't your most regular customers. Maybe 1 in 30 bookings would be a woman, but most of the time it was men, rich men. Business men, famous men, men in oil, men in tech, men in law, men in government, you had even had a Prince once.
But you never had sex with them, that wasn’t part of your services, not for the men. That was the ‘silver package’, The silver package included many things but nothing that involved you and the customer having any sexual intercourse. Not even kissing, you hardly really touched them. The ‘gold package’ was only for the ladies. And the only package that included sex.
With the gold package she had the option to pick your outfit, and this particular woman had picked your personal favourite. It consisted of your leather thigh high boots, the heels stood just short of 6 inches. A fitted black leather corset, that showed off your breast perfectly. She requested for your hair to be tied back in a slicked back ponytail.
You studied her safe words, her ‘do’s and don’ts’. This was always sent over beforehand so you didn't have to break character during your session, or constantly ask if she was okay, unless you felt you needed to. You began to get yourself ready for your night ahead, starting with a long hot shower. You couldn't help but be intrigued on who she was. The customers that booked you had to have money, you weren't cheap, and the company you worked with was a very high brow type of organisation. Only the rich and famous were able to be a member of your place of work, and sometimes not even all of them were allowed to join. It was a very exclusive club. You had to be somebody, and even then you weren't always guaranteed to be a member.
You had to book months in advance to see certain ‘workers’ and you were one of them, you were one of the best after all. Even, you didn't find out anything until that day, like the message you got this morning. Giving the customers the discretion they paid for.
After your shower you got yourself ready in the customer's desired outfit of choice. You got in your car and made your way to your destination, but not before covering yourself with your long brown trench coat of course. This view wasn't free.
You pulled up to the gated fence. “Good evening, Miss Porsche.” The security guard who had been working there since even before you, smiled politely, opening the gates for you. ‘Miss Porsche’ wasn’t your name, he didn’t know your name, it’s what he called you as that was your car of choice.
“Hey, Frank.” You nodded and smiled at him as you drove through the gates. You didn't know his name either, he just looked like a Frank and he never corrected you.
You drove up the pathway to the main entrance of the Victorian manor, parking your car in your usual spot. You climbed the old wooden staircase, passing large golden floor length mirrors that draped the walls, mirrors that you had seen yourself in many times, in many different positions, from an array of sex parties.
You made your way to your room, you unlocked the door and got yourself ready. No one but the cleaners was allowed in your room. Everyone who worked here had their own private rooms, giving the customers full privacy. No one entered or left at the same time, it was a tight clock.
You made sure the room was perfect, you had scented candles lit, making the room smell of vanilla and coconut, the lights dimmed low. The room was a naturally dark room, a four pillar wooden king size bed sat in the middle of it. The oak pillars stood tall giving it a royal feel to it. The small fire burning gave the room the perfect temperature, you wanted to keep your guest comfortable after all, there was nothing worse than a cold room when having sex. You looked over her checklist once more, smirking as you read it. You had a feeling you were going to have fun with her.
That's when you heard a knock on the door. Show time.
“Enter.” You called out.
The door opened with a young woman standing behind one of the “Toys” Both their faces half covered with masquerade masks. The ‘toys’ were like house butlers but half naked, they greeted the guests on arrival and escorted them in and out of the building. They confiscated phones or any kind of device that could record, you wanted your privacy to. They were in charge of taking the customers to change out of their clothes and into something more appropriate, and into the robes provided. They were young apprentices, shall we say. They got the name ‘toy’ because they were ‘played’ with constantly by workers like you in the best kind of way, of course, they were like shiny new toys, hence the name. You and other workers taught them the ways of your work, they were literally learning on the job.
“You, come in.” You pointed at your partner for the night. She hesitantly took a step forward into your room.
“Leave us.” you said to the ‘toy’. She took a step back, closing the door behind her.
You locked the door, giving yourself and your guest privacy. You turned around to see the blonde woman standing straight ahead, her body looked rigid, most of them did when they first entered.
“Take off your robe.” You said it softly, but with a dominant tone.
The blonde took a deep breath and removed her robe down to her waist, she was nervous to take it completely off. But that's why you were there.
“All of it.” You demanded.
She took another deep breath and allowed the clothing to drop to the floor. You smiled.
You took a good look at her body, she was stunning. She was wearing a beautiful, very expensive looking red laced set that complimented her olive skin perfectly. You could tell she worked out, her muscles in her back alone were impressive. Your eyes drifted down to her pretty perky arse, her red thong sat neatly between her cheeks and fuck, it was perfect. You had the urge to slap those perfect cheeks and watch them jiggle, but that could wait, you had 12 hours to play with her.
You could see she had tattoos scattered across her skin, her blonde hair flowing down her back was covering parts of the art. Her muscles were tensing beneath her skin, you could see she was nervous, you wanted her in many ways, but nervous was not one of them.
You stepped closer to her, gently touching her shoulder, she jumped at the contact.
“Oh we don't want that, no need to be nervous around me.” You purred.
You finally stepped in front of her, and you nearly lost your own nerve. Even with the mask you knew who she was. The women standing in front of you was none other then Alexia fucking Putellas. Fuck.
You didn't have many celebrity crushes, you weren't really one to obsess over the latest hot new movie star. But, you were a sucker for a female footballer. And in some sick twist of fate, the one you lusted over most was standing half naked right in front of you. Ready to be dominated.
You prided yourself on being a professional, you have seen many faces that you recognised in this room before, faces you saw in films, in music, even in politics. You had never batted an eyelid. You would even use it as part of your play with them. Use it as a tool to either put them down or build them up, depending on the service of course.
You were a little taken back when you recognised her, you nearly faltered, nearly. But you were a professional, this was your job, but god, this was going to be hard.
You stepped closer to the Spaniard, you put your finger under her chin and lifted her head slightly, making her look at you. “You’re a pretty little thing aren't you?.” You smirked.
The blonde casted her hazel eyes to the floor, a small smile at her lips. “Thank you.” She said quietly.
You were a bit shocked to see the footballer so timid. On social media she seemed a lot more confident, but you knew more than most people, that not everyone was the same in and outside of the bedroom.
You looked over her body one last time, before you left her where she stood. You sat on the end of the king size bed, spreading your legs wide.
“Come here my pretty pet.” You point to the space between your legs.
Alexia looks between your legs and back up at you, almost scared to be caught looking. She starts to walk but you stop her.
“No. Not like that. On your hands and knees, crawl. You’re my pretty pet.” You smirked devilishly at her.
She looked a little taken back but she got on her hands and knees like you said and crawled to you. Her perfect arse swaying as she did. You felt a little excitement in your stomach at the view, but you knew you had to keep it professional. Crush or no crush. She was still your guest.
You looked down at the girl between your legs, she kept her head down, you watched her hazel eyes look everywhere but at you. Even behind the gold mask you could see she was still nervous. You gently placed your hand on her cheek, she leaned into your palm instantly. You were definitely going to have fun with her tonight.
“I like the name 'Pretty pet' for you, you are so very pretty. Are you going to be a good, pretty pet for me?”
She nodded. That wouldn't do. You grabbed her chin, her cheeks were squashed between your fingers pushing her lips out.
“When I ask you a question I want a verbal answer.”
“Sí. Yes, s-sorry.” She stuttered.
You roughly released her face, leaning back from her.
“You’re not the queen in this room, do you understand?”
“Yes.” She nodded.
“Good. In fact you will refer to me as Miss Queen.”
“Yes, Miss Queen.” She nodded.
You smiled. “Good, I like an obedient pet. Let's take this mask off you. We don’t need it anymore.” You untied the mask and removed it from her. Finally seeing her full face, she was even more beautiful in real life.
You take your time looking at her, this stunning woman in front of you was specifically here for you, for her pleasure.
With this kind of job it was easy for it to get to your head. You have someone paying thousands to specifically spend a night with you, just to fulfill their own sexual needs. But you had learnt from early on that it wasn't just a sex thing, it was almost like a therapy session for your guest, something they needed. Fantasies that society made them feel weird for wanting, so they seeked out their pleasures privately. It was a safe space for you and them, a place where nothing would be used against them. And if you were rich and famous then it was the perfect space for you. And you were there to provide that service for them.
You smiled down at the girl below you, you caught her eyes on your sex, her hazel eyes locked with your own, she looked embarrassed to be caught red handed.
“Like what you see, pretty pet?”
She nodded. “Yes, very much Miss Queen.”
You hummed. “My thighs need some attention, give it to them.”
“Yes, Miss Queen.” Alexia shuffled closer on her knees. She started to place gentle kisses on your skin, your leather boots covered half of your thighs, only giving her lips space closer to your pussy, not that you minded. She began to use her tongue, slowly licking and sucking on your flesh. You leaned back, stroking her hair, watching the girl beneath you. You watched as her tongue darted out, and then her lips would suck. She got closer to your pussy, as she sucked at the crease of where your thigh and leather suit met.
You let out a sigh.“That's good my pretty pet. I can see your pretty mouth can work, I’ll definitely enjoy that later. Stand up”
Alexia stood in front of you, her red lingerie hugged her body perfectly. You stood up right in front of her, even with your heels she had the height leverage, not that it mattered. Not in this room.
“Stay facing the bed. Put your hands up.”
Alexia did what she was told. You grabbed the restraints that were hanging from the top of the beds banister above her head, you secured her wrists to the restraints, keeping her in place. You walked over to your draw of toys, looking specifically for a certain item. You smirked as you found it.
You walked over to her, the accessory in your hand. Her beautiful body was tense, as her muscles in her arms and shoulders flexed from the position. You stepped closer to her, enjoying your view up close. You pressed your body against hers, her own body tensed instantly on feeling you. You were close enough to smell her perfume, it smelt expensive.
“I’m going to give you 10 lashes and the only thing I want to hear coming from your mouth is ‘Thank you Miss Queen.’ Understood?”
“Yes, Miss Queen.”
“Good, if you’re a good girl for me, you’ll be rewarded. Does that sound good, my pretty pet?”
“Yes Miss Queen, thank you.”
“Perfect. Let’s begin.” You kissed her shoulder, Your eyes roamed her pretty arse, her perfect pretty arse. Just waiting to be red like her thongs. You brought the black leather paddle board up, and lashed it across her cheeks.
Crack. “Thank you Miss Queen.” She took the first hit well. You brought down the paddle again, watching her arse shake from the impact.
Crack. She hissed out. “Thank you Miss Queen.”
You got to the 8th slap, and her body was shaking, her breathing was hard.
“You are doing so well, you’re such a good pet.”
“Thank you Miss Qu- ahh!….Queen.” Crack. 9th hit.
“Last one. It's a shame, I enjoy watching your pretty arse shake.” You smirked.
It was the last one and your hardest one. Her head flew back, as her body shook from the feeling of your paddle. “T-thank you, Miss queen.”
You knelt down and gave both her cheeks a delicate kiss. Humming as you did. “Thank you, pretty pet. I'm going to have so much fun with your arse.” You peppered her cheeks with your lips. She slightly flinched from the sensation, her arse was more than likely on fire, but she still signed in pleasure.
You took a step back, looking over her red cheeks. “You’re just perfect aren't you? Turn around, let me see you.” Alexia turned her body, now standing in front of you, her face was flushed, her cheeks a cute shade of pink. Her red lingerie hugged her body perfectly, but as pretty as it was it needed to come off.
You took a step closer to her, your face inches from hers. You looked between your bodies smiling. “Thank you for making such an effort for me tonight, pretty pet.” You glided your fingers over her bra, you could feel her erect nipple through the thin fabric.
Alexia suddenly became shy at the compliment, it embarrassed her that you knew she tried to make an effort, buying the outfit specifically for tonight, for you.
You gently cupped her chin like you did earlier. You moved your lips inches from hers, you could see the desperation in her eyes. “Even though you look so pretty in your lingerie, I want to see all of you.”
“Please.” She begged.
You gripped her face tighter. “Are you losing your manners, pet?”
She shook her head as much as she could with your tight grip. “No. Sorry, Miss Queen. I’m sorry.”
You smiled at her, your eyes glazing over her lips. “Good. Don’t upset me.”
You untied her from the restraints and removed her bra from her chest, revealing a beautiful pair of breasts.
“Pretty girl.” You whispered.
You slowly took her left nipple into your mouth, sucking on the perked flesh. Her head tilted back as a quiet moan escaped her lips. Just like she did before, she moved closer to your touch, desperate to feel you. A simple gesture like that made you understand the kind of touch she needed tonight. You moved over to the other side, gently squeezing her tight bud between your teeth, earning you a beautiful moan.
You released her nipples with a wet pop from your lips. “Turn around, get on the bed. I want that pretty arse in the air.”
Alexia got on the bed, shuffling on her knees, just like you told her to. You went back to your draw of toys, looking for the item you had in mind. Once you found the object, you accompanied it with a bottle of lube.
You turned around to see a truly pornagraphic site. Alexia had her arse in the air, her face down on the bed waiting for your next command. You stood behind her, greedily looking over her body. You stroked her thighs, making her jolt at your delicate touch. You moved your hands up to her red thongs and peeled the skimpy fabric down her thighs.
Wow.
The girl was drenched, you watched as her shiny streaks of wetness clung to her lips, as you removed the clothing. You felt your mouth water at the sight, you let out your own appreciative groan. Of all the female footballers that could have been in your room tonight it had to be the one you lusted over the most, the one that you literally pictured in this room many times. Now here she was. All wet and waiting.
Alexia heard your moan, it made her chest swell with pride. It felt like she had done something right for you.
“Look at you, you may have the prettiest pussy I have ever seen.” You smiled as you took a swipe from her wet lips. You lifted your wet finger to your mouth and smeared her essence on your lips, like she was your own personal lip gloss.
You groaned. “Fuck, she taste pretty too, what a sweet little thing you are.”
Alexia moaned from your words, you could tell the girl was starting to visibly relax.
“I’m going to play with your pretty little arse for a little bit. I have a beautiful red diamond plug that I think will suit you perfectly.”
“Yes, Miss Queen. I’d like that.” her voice trembled.
You had a feeling you knew why Alexia had booked with you, it was always the same. People who booked with you who were always in a leading role, a job that everyone counted on you to make the decisions. The people who got the most blame for a mistake that wasn't even theirs, it was just because they were the main face that they would get the most backlash. And with jobs like that they were always in charge, so coming here was a break, a release from the stress. They didn't get to make any decisions here.
You smirked as you covered the plug generously with lube, but not without covering your fingers too. You slowly started to ease one finger into her tight hole. Her breathing picked up straight away, small moans left her mouth as you got the tip of your finger past her tight muscles. “Such a good girl.”
She moaned at your words. Her back arched as she felt your finger slowly ease depper in, she clearly wasn't a stranger to this, you couldn't help imagine her outside this room and in your own bed training her arse to stretch. After some slow and gentle pushing your knuckle was pressing into her hole. You allowed her to get used to the feeling, ever so slowly moving your finger in and out, stretching her out. Her soft moans were beautiful, you watched as she held onto the bed sheets needing something to hold.
You stroked her back with your free hand. “So good.” She pressed her arse back into you, she was definitely a praise kink kind of girl. Your favourite kind of girl. After a while of manipulating her hole, you slowly removed your finger and began to ease the shiny but plug.
“You’re so good, taking this like a pro. You’ve done this before haven’t you? Hmm? You like your pretty arse played with.”
“Sííí. Sí M-miss Queen.” Alexia groaned.
“I thought so. Such a dirty pet.”
Finally the plug was sitting perfectly between her cheeks. You looked down proudly at your work, a red gem next to her red cheeks. Another shiney substance caught your eye, that’s when you noticed her juices had dribbled halfway down her thighs.
“Oh my poor pretty pet, you've made such a mess of yourself.” You said it with a hint of tease to your voice. “Let me clean you up.”
You got on your knees in front of Alexia’s thighs, you dipped your head closer and ran your tongue up each strong thigh, catching her body's juices. Alexia let out a groan at the feeling of your tongue, cleaning her up. You had tasted many girls in your time but wow, Alexia was something special. You sucked and licked on her skin, you grabbed her cheeks as she began to push backwards, clearly wanting your tongue somewhere else.
“Ohh she's a desperate girl.” Your voice was teasing.
She really was, Alexia had been looking forward to this appointment for months, she found out about this establishment through a friend of a friend, and when she came across your profile she enquired instantly.
You began to kiss up close to her sex, her lips were dripping. You slowly moved closer to where she wanted you most, but teased her with purposefully slow kisses, inch by inch getting closer. You smirked as you heard her breathing getting quicker. Ever so gently you kissed her lips, your own lips topped back up with the beautiful gloss that was Alexia.
A whimper dripped from the girl's mouth, god she was desperate. You could tell she needed this. You kissed her again, this time you pushed your tongue past her lips and into her velvety folds, finally having her on your tongue. You weren't ready for the filthy groan she let out, making your own pussy throb.
You lapped a few times before you began to eat her out properly, your tongue stroking teasingly at her hole, but not once touching her clit. She tried to open her legs further, but her thongs still on her thighs only allowed her so far.
As much as it pained you to do, you pulled away from her. You wanted to have more fun with her before she was allowed to come. But of course she protested when you stopped.
“Please Miss Queen. I’ve been so good.”
Fuck. Alexia begging was music to your ears. “You have been good, so good, but I’m not done playing with you.”
The blonde let out a moan, but before she could even finish your hand smacked her arse. Making her yelp.
“Lay on the bed, on your front now!” You put on your most dominant voice.
The girl couldn't move quicker, she laid on her front waiting for you. You pulled her thongs down off her thighs, freeing her legs. “Put your arms up near your head.” You commanded.
She did as she was told. You grabbed her hands and locked her wrist in the restraints attached to the front of bed. Her naked body laid there waiting for you. The red gem between her cheeks caught your eye as you approached her.
“I’m sorry, Miss Queen. I j-just. Your tongue feels so good.”
You stroked her hair from her neck, you moved closer to her ear, licking the shell as you did. “You wont get my tongue if you carry on being a brat. Is that what you want?”
Panic set in her eyes. “No, no. Please. I’m sorry, Miss Queen. Ho sento molt”
You hadn’t prepared yourself for Alexia speaking in Catalan. You felt yourself becoming wet again, but you gritted your teeth and held down your own hornyness for now. You grabbed a fistfull of her hair and yanked her head up. “Make me angry one more time. I promise you won't like it.”
You released the hold on her hair and walked over to the candles on the side, picking up one in particular. This one had a lip on the side for a certain use. You walked back over, your heels hitting the wooden floor boards with purpose. You climbed on the bed and sat just below Alexias arse.
“Make sure to breathe, baby girl.”
“Yes, Miss Queen.” The Spaniard breathed out.
You tilted the candle slowly on its side and watched as the hot melted red wax dripped over her back, she cried out as the burning liquid came into contact with her skin.
The noises she let out made your own eyes roll back. Alexia was writhing underneath you. The hot sensation of the wax made every nerve in her body scream. It felt like a bolt of electricity had coursed through her skin, she gasped as she felt more drips gather just above her cheeks, the feeling was intoxicating, she could feel her cunt pulsate from the burn.
“I would normally gag my pet but the noises you make are delicious.”
“Graci-gr- ….aghh. Thank you. Th-ank you, Queen.”
Her accent had become thicker, she was clearly struggling to form her words, you loved it. You didn't even care that she messed up. “Hmm, such a good, pretty pet.” You moved the candle away, you watched as the blonde breathed hard beneath you. You climbed off her, putting the candle back on the side.
You went into your dresser to get your next prop. “You ready to be a good girl? Be my good, pretty pet?” You began to remove your corset, the Spaniard's hazel eyes popped open comically as your corset hit the floor, she watched you like a hawk. You were now completely naked other than your thigh high boots. You slinked over to her, she was still trapped by the restraints, unable to move.
“Sí Miss Queen, I want to be your good girl, please.” Her voice was raspy.
You smiled as you stroked her hair, she was such a good submissive, it nearly took your breath away. You began to attach your item in your hand around her neck. She watched you closely, her hazel eyes were dripping with want, she looked at you like she wanted to devour you. As much as she was a sub you could tell she could switch it up. The look she gave you almost made you nervous, almost.
You untied her from her wrist restraints but she was now attached to a new type of restraint. “Come pretty girl. Follow me. I think you deserve a treat.” You smiled devilshy at her, and she smiled back, fuck, this girl was breaking your resolve. You watched as Alexia followed you, you held the lead in your hand that was now attached to her neck. You walked backwards watching her movements. My god what a sight it was.
You walked in front of the lit fireplace, and stood in front of the big black leather chair. A chair fit for a queen. You gently pulled the blonde closer by her lead, just shy of your mouth. You could feel her heavy breathing on your lips. You smirked up at her, her hazel eyes were locked on to your mouth. She truly was beautiful.
You slowly inched impossibly closer to her mouth, your lips millimetres from touching hers. You scraped her hair back gently and slowly attached your lips to hers, kissing her for the first time tonight. You kept it slow, her lips were so delicate and soft. You were exploring her mouth the way you wanted, you gently dipped your tongue past her lips, earning you the cutest groan.
Alexia could kiss, her mouth fit perfectly against yours, both enjoying the feeling of the other. She delicately slipped her tongue in your mouth, you allowed it as it was still the pace you set. Her skilful tongue danced over your own, making you groan. She clearly liked that she was able to pull a noise from you, as she made small muffled noises that made you want to throw her on the bed and fuck her relentlessly.
That's when she forgot her place.
You felt her hand come up to touch your hip slightly squeezing you, just as she decided to push her tongue further, trying to control the kiss. You pulled away, her eyes were still closed as she tried to chase your lips. You chuckled at her neediness, but really you just wanted to give her anything she wanted. Fuck. Get it together.
You pulled her lead again close to your mouth, eyeing her up. “Has someone forgotten who's in charge here?” Before she could answer you pulled her leash harder. She gasped from the jolt. “Because I know for a fucking fact it isnt you.” That knocked her down a peg, but you knew you'd give it to her later. She knew it too.
“I’m sorry, Miss Queen, your mouth is perfecte.”
You pulled the lead, making her pant. “On your knees, pretty pet.” She obeyed and slowly dropped to her knees, never taking her eyes off of you. The glow from the fire illuminated half of her face, causing her hazel eyes to glow a golden colour, making her look even more beautiful. She stared up at you like you were some kind of god, like she was ready to drop any religion she believed in before tonight and worship you instead.
You sat on the leather chair, spreading your legs wide. Her eyes went straight to your core, she saw instantly how wet you were, causing an excited look to flash across her face. Her mouth was slightly parted; you didn't miss the way her tongue darted out, wetting her kiss swollen lips. You let out a deep sigh as you leaned back into the seat, making yourself comfy, your cocky bravado on full show. You lent your hand under your chin, a devilish smile plastered your face. You looked at the girl sitting in front of you, she was a completely different girl from the one who walked in this room tonight. There were no nerves in sight, no more tense muscles, and you hadnt even fucked her yet. You gently pulled the lead to get her attention, as she was still unashamedly gazing at your wet lips.
“Are you ready for your treat, pretty girl?”
She nodded quickly. “Sí, sí. Please Miss Queen, I’m ready.”
You smirked. “Good. You’ve made me a bit of a mess. Come and clean me up.”
She shuffled closer to you on her hands and knees, you placed your heel on her back to rest and to remind her who was in charge. You jerked the lead just before she could inch any closer to you.
“Do not stop until I tell you to.”
“Sí, Miss Queen.” Her voice was desperate.
“Clean me up.”
She began to kiss up your thigh, but made quick work of it, clearly impatient as her tongue was on your clit a lot quicker than you wanted. You yanked the leash, moving her away from you.
“Do not rush. Do not make me warn you again, or you'll be tied up and spanked until you can no longer feel your skin. Do you understand?”
She bit her lip in remorse, and once again it nearly made you slip, this girl was driving you crazy and you had a feeling she knew it too. “Ho sento, Miss Queen.” She kissed your thigh gently.
“Good, get back to it. Make sure to swallow, don’t waste a drop.” You pulled her closer by the leash, not giving her time to respond. This time her lips were slow on your thighs, licking and sucking gently. She took small bites on your flesh, making you grit your teeth. “Good girl.” You rewarded her. Her golden eyes looked up at you, clearly happy to be praised again. She kept her eyes glued to yours as her tongue finally made contact with your wet lips. You made a point not to react, she was going to have to work for this. You didn’t want her to get any more cocky than she already was.
Did it annoy Alexia? Yes. She knew she was good with her tongue, actually if she was being honest she was amazing with her tongue. When she saw you didn't even flinch it jarred her, she didn't really know why but she wanted to prove herself to you, but she didn't mind putting on a show for you. She dipped her tongue into your cunt and up your folds, soaking her tongue in your juices, she leaned slightly back so you could see just how wet you were.
You watched as your shiny wet streaks clung from her tongue to your core, she looked at you as she greedily licked your arousal into her mouth and swollowed. Fuck, this was going ot be hard. She got to work on pleasuring you, lapping her tongue through your velvet folds, her eyes closed in concentration, slurping and swallowing your juices. The sight before you was breathtaking, you had Alexia Putellas on her hands and knees eating you out like she had a point to prove.
The fire's flames licked over her body, her olive skin was glowing from the small blaze. She moved her tongue higher, you couldn't hold the moans any longer as her talented tongue toyed with your clit. You brought your hand into her blonde hair, pushing her head closer. She groaned from the touch, happy to feel your contact.
“Quite a talented mouth you have on you. You feel so good, pretty pet.” You praised her.
You pushed her further into your pussy, she was building you up quicker then you normally would like, but a part of you didnt care, she felt too good, and she was definitely making a point. She sucked gently on your swollen bundle of nerves, your hand in her hair getting tighter as she sucked and licked. You could feel the coil in the bottom of your stomach start to build. Your moans only pushed Alexia further, wanting so badly to make you come. As your pleasure built you heard a small noise come from the girl below you, she started to fucking whimper as she suckled on your erect clit. You looked down at her, her eyes were closed as her head bobbed up and down between your legs.
“You’re such a good, pretty pet. I’m going to come in your pretty mouth. S-so good. So fucking good.” You rasped out.
Her noises alone made your hips start to move, you began to push into her mouth, she had the most perfect suction on your bundle of nerves. You pulled on her leash to get her closer, her whimpering getting louder as your hips moved against her tongue. The heated wave of your orgasm rushed through your body, you grabbed her head, needing her to stay exactly where she was, you pushed her impossibly closer as she sucked on your clit. Her name was on the tip of your tongue, as you shakily whimpered out, but you were able to hold it down.
Alexia was in heaven, she felt your juices seep out and coat her tongue. She swallowed you down like you told her to, her own head swelled at seeing you so out of breath. She stayed on her hands and knees, lapping you up. You were sensitive but you allowed her to stay on, you watched her tongue lick between your folds, it wasn't long before she coaxed another orgasm out of you, making you completely fall apart.
You let out a shaky breath as you moved her head away. You hated to admit it but no one had ever made you come like her, most of the time your guest wasn't even able to make you come, let alone twice. You watched as the blonde sat on her heels, her mouth was smeared with your essence, she smiled up at you, clearly happy with herself.
You chuckled. “Wow. Not just talented on the pitch then are you.”
You saw the glint flash in her eyes at the praise, she broke out in a genuine smile, a smile that melted your insides, fuck sake. You would only praise her from now on if that's how she reacted. But you still had to remind her who was boss.
“Come pretty girl, unzip my boots.”
Alexia unzipped your boots, pulling them off you and placing them to the side.
“Up.” You snapped.
You both stood up, you were glad to be out of your heels as your legs felt like jelly as you stood.
“Come pretty pet.” You pulled on the leash and Alexia followed.
You snapped your fingers, pointing to the middle of the bed. “On your back, arms up.”
Alexia did what she was told and climbed on top of the bed with her arms up.
You heard a small gasp come from the girl. “A mirror?” She smirked.
You had a large mirror placed under the roof of the bed, so your guest had a view from the angle on their back.
You smiled. “Best view in the house.”
You attached her wrist to the restraints on the bed, making sure they were tight. You could feel her eyes watching your every move. You untied the leash around her neck, you wrapped your fingers gently around her neck and squeezed her throat, earning you a whimper.
“Hmm, I love the sounds you make.” You gently squeezed again.
She moved forward trying to connect her lips to yours, and you gave in, gently kissing her. If that’s what she wanted then that’s what she would get.
The Spaniard was giddy, you could see she was excited. And so was you. You walked over to your drawer of goodies and grabbed the harness you wanted, you slipped it on with the 8 inch dark navy dick attached to it. Alexia was staring at you, her muscular thighs were already rubbing together.
“Is someone desperate?” You teased.
“Sí, Miss Queen. I-I need you.”
“You need me? Hmm, la Reina needs me?”
“Sí, so bad. My queen.”
“Hmm I like that.” You chuckled.
You covered the strap with lube, and made your way over to the bed. You sat kneeled at Alexia's legs that were closed.
You eyed her up. “Open.”
She almost looked hesitant to do it, but she did, she shakily opened her legs and you nearly forgot how to speak. She was dripping wet. You felt your core tighten just at the sight. The red diamante plug was covered in her wetness, what a sight to see.
You smirked deviously.. You pushed her legs open wider. “You’re a messy kind of girl aren’t you?”
“I-I don’t normally. I’ve never been this wet before.” She said it so quietly it nearly broke your heart.
You rubbed her thighs soothingly “That's okay my pretty girl. It’s exactly how I want you.”
She smiled, letting out air that was stuck in her lungs.
You moved your hand to her soaking wet entrance and circled her clit.
“Merda.” She husked out.
You watched her face as you ran your fingers through her folds, just feeling her, remembering her, she moaned and wiggled under your touch. Then without warning you pushed two fingers inside her. The groan she let out made your pussy clench. She closed her eyes, her mouth gaped open from the sudden intrusion. You allowed her to get used to you before stroking your fingers in and out.
You slowly rubbed your thumb on her erect clit, causing the blonde to tense on your fingers, you could feel her walls already starting to shake. You dipped your head and replaced your thumb with your mouth, wrapping your lips around her swollen pink head.
Alexia’s moan was pornagraphic, her hips came off the mattress, her back arched as you suckled on her.
“Please, déu mio.” Her eyes were screwed shut as she begged. You moved your fingers harder in her, making sure to hit that beautiful g spot of hers. Your tongue eagerly lapped at her clit, flicking it, pushing her closer. Her wetness was seeping into your mouth, almost making it hard to breathe, you swallowed as you sucked, making sure she could hear your throat gulp her juices down.
It didn’t take long before her body started to completely shake, she pulled her arms on the restraints, wanting so badly to touch you. She would normally have some kind of control when a girl was in between her legs. She felt her muscles tighten as her body tipped over the edge, she came hard, she cried out as her body rutted against your mouth.
You kept your mouth on her until it was too much, she faintly cried out. “I can’t take anymore.” You reluctantly moved your head away, kissing her thighs on the way up. You sat up, your mouth gleaming with her essence. You lined yourself up to her entrance, one hand on her thigh, one hand holding the 8 inch appendage. You started to tease her entrance.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.”
“What do you want from me, pretty pet?”
“To fuck me, hard.” She huffed.
“Hmm I don’t know if you can take it.” Your voice was teasing.
“I can take it.” She rolled her eyes and smirked.
“Hmm, but do you deserve it?”
“Yes. I’ve been so good. Please.” God she was desperate
“You’re so needy aren't you? Such a needy pretty girl.”
“Sí. I need you so bad.” Her voice was straining now.
“Tonight this pussy is mine, got it?” You circled her clit gently.
“S-sí, it's yours.” She moaned.
“You are mine, isn't that right pretty pet?”
“Sí, I'm all yours. All y-yours, I belong to you.” She husked out. Her eyes were full of lust, her face and cheeks blushing red, her hair was a slight mess. She looked perfect. “Please amore.”
You smiled at the term of endearment. “Only because you asked so nicely “Ready?”
“Sí, please. Sí us plau fot-me.”
You slowly pushed the head of the dick into her core, watching it enter her inch by inch. She started to let out small gasps as the girthy dick stretched her out, it almost felt too much, the air felt cold as it left her lungs.
“Breath, baby girl.” You didn't move, you were only half way in but you allowed her to get used to the thickness of you. You watched her take a few deep breaths, and her body relaxed. She lifted her hips for you to keep going. You squeezed her thighs as you began to push deeper, her whimpers were errotic, the noises this girl made were something you wish you could have heard every damn day.
You slowly began to pump your hips, you were kneeling between her legs, able to watch and move at the pace you wanted. You couldn't stop staring as you sunk in and out of her, her pussy swallowing each thrust. You began to move faster, her moans becoming louder as you stretched her out.
You placed your hands on the back of her thighs for support as you started to really fuck her. The sounds of her moaning and wet pussy were filling the room. You pushed her legs further to her chest and began to move your hips at a relentless speed. She tried to moan but no sound came out, your hips were moving like they were on speed.
“Perfect girl. So perfect. Taking my dick so well.”
Alexia just had to lay there and take the rough pounding you gave her, watching you fuck her in the mirror above, her hands were still restrained above her head. She tried to respond but she was a mess of filthy moans. Her face was pure bliss as you hit deep in her tight walls, pushing her body deep into the mattress below, as you pressed your body into hers.
You were close to her face now, you kissed her roughly, she was just about able to form a kiss, you sucked on her lower lip and sunk your teeth into her plump flesh, causing her to whimper. You let go of one of her legs and moved your hand to her throat, wrapping your fingers around her neck. You squeezed with just enough pressure to hear her moan slip into a broken cry.
You could have stayed like this all night, if her body would allow it, just watching her face as she was fucked by you, you could feel your clit throbing from the site. You kept your pace up for a while, you felt your body start to sweat, making both your skin stick, the fire in the room was definitely keeping you warm.
That's when you felt her legs begging to shake, she wrapped them around your waist pulling you deeper, her moans became high, her head flung back into the pillow. You leaned into her ear.
“That's it, pretty girl, let that pretty pussy come over my dick. You’ve been so good, taking me so well.”
You thrusted faster, you grabbed her face and kissed her, her whimpers vibrated on your lips, her eyes were shut as her body started to rut. “Estic venint!” You were glad you knew enough Catalan to understand that was a good thing. Her body shook as she came, you kissed her as her body became dead weight. You dropped her legs and gently pulled out of her. You wanted her in a new position, not caring about her protests.
“Turn around.”
Before she could even move you moved her body for her, you brought her hips up in the air, putting her on her knees. The ruby coloured plug was still in place. You didn't wait around, you sunk your dick inside her, right until your thighs were slotted with hers.
Alexia's eyes rolled into the back of her head, the pressure from the plug in this position was a whole different feeling, she could feel your dick pressing against the plug between her walls, the pressure was amazing. She didn’t have time to get used to it, you began to fuck her hard.
You pushed her head down as your hips slapped her cheeks on every thrust, you thought you’d heard her moan before, but nothing compared to this. She gripped the bed sheets as you went to town, her moaning made your own eyes roll. You stole a glance upwards at the mirror above, you watched her cheeks slap roughly against your thighs, your clit was rubbing perfectly against the base of the strap. You looked down at the ruby plug sparkling between her cheeks, your eyes then panned to the blue dildo, working in and out of her pussy. You smirked to yourself, they were the colours of Barcelona's kit.
Alexia was mumbling and moaning in the bed sheets below, you could make out some words, most of it in Catalan, swearing and gibberish. You pushed deeper, feeling a perfect spot for your clit, you could feel the warm pressure in your stomach begin to rise, but Alexia was already close. Her legs began to shake again, her moaning becoming high pitched.
“No baby, wait for me.” You demanded.
“I-I can’t” She groaned.
You slapped her arse hard. “You will.”
But it was too late, Alexia tried when she heard you but the slap of the arse may have been the thing to push her. She came hard around your dick, her choked moaning was loud, her throat would definitely hurt tomorrow. She realised what she did, apologising instantly.
“I’m, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to I - merdaaa!”
You started to thrust again, not caring about how sensitive she was, she disobeyed you, she would have to wait for you to come now.
“You’re going to take it until I come. Do you hear me?” Your voice was harsh.
“Sí, sí I’m sorry.”
Your hips went at a back breaking pace. Alexia started to moan, her body was in complete overdrive. You pushed her closer to the head board, where her restraints were attached, and pulled her body up so her back was against your front. You sunk your teeth into her neck as you fucked her, the wet noises coming from her pussy were filthy. She whimpered at the pleasurable pain from your teeth and your dick thrusting into her. She was so sensitive, it was a lot, her whole body was vibrating, thrumming from the pressure between her legs.
She gritted her teeth as you used her body to come. She knew she could say the safe word and you would immediately stop but it turned her on knowing she was being used in this way. And yeah, that she maybe disobeyed your orders on purpose to be a brat, so what.
You pulled her right up against your body, you grabbed her throat holding her neck giving you full access. You began to suck and bite on her pulse points, feeling her heartbeat thump under your tongue. Your hips never stopped, her whimpers and cries were right in your ear, pushing you to the edge.
“So good. Your moans are so fucking good.”
She couldn't respond Alexia was teetering on her 3rd orgasm of the night, and you were right behind her (literally) You felt her legs shake, you pushed your fingers on her clit, rubbing her at a furious rate. You pushed her down at the head board to grab. You leaned into her putting the pressure you needed on your clit. You felt the rush of your pleasure sweep through your body as you came against the strap, you grinded against her pushing your orgasm right to the edge. Your fingers stopped on Alexia as you caught your breath.
“Please, please don’t stop.” Alexia begged.
You chuckled roughly into her ear, making her shiver. “You are such a good girl, such a good pretty girl.”
You picked the pace back up and rubbed on her erect, sensitive clit, you brought her back up against your chest, both your bodies were slick with sweat, it didn't take long before she started to scream, she threw her head back, you captured her lips in a fierce kiss. That's when you felt a gush of water splash against your legs, Alexia had squirted all over your dick. This night was only getting better.
“M-merda.” She was completely out of breath.
You laughed softly, gathering her hair in one hand and blowing air on her sweaty neck. You both just stayed there catching your breath.
“I’m going to pull out okay?”
“Sí, slowly please.”
“Of course.” You kissed her shoulder as you gently pulled out. You climbed off the bed and unlocked the Spaniard from the restraints. She fell to the mattress, clearly exhausted from your activities. It made you smile. You walked into the onsweet bathroom and started to run a bath. You put plenty of lavender soak in to make it bubbly, and started to light the candles that sat alongside the bath. You came back in to see Alexias hooded eyes looking at you, a satisfied smile plastered her face.
“Looks like my pretty pet is all fucked out.” You smiled playfully.
She let out a throaty laugh. “Hmm, no. I think you are.”
Your smirk was sadistic. “No honey, why do you think you still have the plug in?”
Before Alexia could respond you grabbed her by the legs and turned her arse to the edge of the bed. You knelt to your knees and started to suck on her clit. She cried out her hands grabbing the sheets, too scared to touch you in case you stopped. Her body was so sensitive she was already guiding towards her 4th orgasm, you pushed two fingers into her core, at a fast rate. The blonde let out a throaty moan from the pace. You brought your other hand to her arse and began to push the plug in and out of her whole. That's when her hand did find your hair. But you allowed it.
You felt her legs start to shake, you sucked and licked at her very swollen, very sensitive clit, your fingers still thrusting deep inside her cunt. That familiar sound of her whimpers started to drip from her mouth, those sweet beautiful sounds. She pushed your head down further into her. That's when you felt her pussy pulsate around your finger and at the same time you pulled the plug out of her arse. The Spaniard let out a deep throaty scream you hadn't heard tonight as she came completely undone, giving her a whole different kind of sensation.
Her chest heaved heavily as she struggled to catch her breath, you kissed her thighs as you came up from her between her legs. You got back on your feet looking down at the girl, smirking at the mess you made of her. You wiped your thumb across your lips, gathering her wetness, her eyes were on you now. You sucked her wetness off your thumb and winked.
“You may be my new favourite flavour.”
Alexia's mouth gaped open, she groaned as she covered her eyes and laughed. Her laugh was rough, probably from all the screaming she had done tonight.
You quickly checked the bath and it was the perfect height, you turned the taps off and made your way back to Alexia.
“Follow me.” You put your hand out for her to take and she eagerly did. You guided her to the bathroom on her jelly like legs and helped her into the hot tub. You tied her hair into a bun, and showed her where everything was, if she needed it.
“Just relax okay, I’m just going to get this room sorted, do you need anything? I’ll get us some water, but would you like anything specific?”
She looked to be thinking. “No, I’m good. Water is fine. Gracias.” She smiled. Her voice was hoarse.
You nodded and smiled, you closed the door and called the number for room service.
“....Thank you, yeah erm, let's have a selection please, great, thanks chef.”
The cleaners came and changed the sheets at a rapid speed. Once they were done you thanked them and returned to Alexia.
“Hello pretty pet, how are we doing?” You smiled at her.
This was also part of the package, the after care. It was just as important as the sex side of things, it could sometimes get rough in the sheets and the body and mind sometimes had a habit of going into a weird kind of emotional shock if not properly looked after.
You helped her wash her body and helped her out of the bath. You wrapped her up in a warm fluffy towel and walked her back into the room. “There's fresh pjs on the bed. You don't have to wear them.” You winked, and she giggled. Fuck. You felt your knees go weak. You continued. “Fresh water is just on the table. Relax and make yourself comfortable. You kissed her forehead. “I’m going to take a shower and once I'm done I have a special cream for your arse that I’m going to apply.”
“Okay, thank you Miss Queen.” She smiled with teeth. What a completely different girl.
Once you were done you wrapped yourself in your robe and came back to the room. Alexia was watching TV laying on the bed completely naked.
“No pjs for you?” You smirked playfully. “Would you like a preference for me?”
“Oh erm, no, whatever you’re comfortable with. But I do like you naked.” She smiled shyly.
Just before you could answer, room service was at the door. You opened only enough to take the tray from the toy butler.
You turned around with a silver tray with a variation of ice cream. Alexia looked over and smiled.
“What's this?”
“For your throat, it helps trust me.”
The smile that spread across her face was breathtaking. “Gracias. Thank you so much.” She beamed.
“That's okay. I asked for a couple of flavours, as I wasn’t sure, but if these aren't what you like I can ask for whatever you want.”
“No this is perfect, thank you, Miss queen.”
You both ate ice cream naked, while you watched ‘The office’ on netflix, a completely different atmosphere settled in the room. Once you were done you left the bowls outside.
“On your front, let me cream that perfect arse.”
Alexia laughed and did what she was told. You gently applied the cream to her cheeks, it was a cream to make sure the blisters would heal. The blonde was close to falling asleep, yawning as you creamed. You laced kisses up from her cheeks up to her neck.
“Done. Are you ready for bed, pretty pet?”
She smiled with sleepy eyes. “Sí, thank you for that. It feels good.”
You got into bed and before you could ask, Alexia threw herself into your chest, laying her head just under your neck. You instantly held her closer, you could feel her warm breath on your skin, making you shiver.
“Is this okay?” She asked, her voice almost sounded worried.
“Definitely.” You kissed the top of her head. Both of you fell asleep in each other's arms.
The clock alarm went off the next morning, pulling you from your deep sleep. Alexia started to stir before you could turn it off. You had 3 hours left with the girl, it made your heart break a little. The blonde made a cute but very sexy groan as she stretched her body, she nuzzled her nose and lips into your neck. “Nu vull.” Her morning voice was raspy.
You laughed at the childlike version of Alexia. You kissed her head as you pulled her closer. You stayed there for a couple of minutes, stroking her back, feeling her soft skin under your fingertips. She let out a deep sigh as she moved her hips a little into your thigh that was between her own. You pushed your thigh deeper into her and to no surprise you were met with wetness. You smirked as you pushed deeper, making Alexia groan.
“Is my pretty pet wet for me already?”
Her sleepy smile gave you butterflies that you knew had no right being there.
“Sí” She grinded her hips harder on your leg, making a point.
You started to kiss her neck, making sure to kiss every spot, she smiled as she felt your lips press against her skin. You pushed her gently on her back and started to move down her body, you sucked and licked at her olive skin, you could smell the lavender on her skin from the bubble bath. You kissed at her nipples that were still soft, clearly not as awake as Alexia's other regions. You sucked the soft flesh into your warm mouth, you couldn't help but moan as you felt the nub begin to perk under your tongue. Alexia watched you as you worshiped her body, you sank further down in between her legs, her lips glistened with her morning arousal, it made your mouth water, you could feel your own wetness begin to pool between your legs from the sight alone.
You gently ran your tongue between her wet lips, Alexia groaned above you, her body waking up to the feeling of you. You were slow with it, just taking in her body, her flavour, her sounds, the way she bit her bottom lip when you sucked her in a certain way, the crease between her brows when you pushed your tongue inside her, lapping and drinking her down. Her hands laced your hair, you couldn't stop her, not when she looked so good, you also wanted her to do what she wanted, if this was the way she wanted things to go then you wouldn't stop her.
She slowly began to move her hips, pushing herself deeping into your tongue. Her morning voice mixed with a ragged throat from last night made her moans sound rough. “La teva boca és perfecta.” She whispered, you watched her as your mouth worked against her. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open, just feeling you eat her out, she didn't mind that you were taking it slow, she loved the thought of you just being there, she was in heaven. A new wave of wetness dripped into your mouth every so often, you could hear how wet she was as you lapped at her folds. You gently wrapped your lips around her soft clit, sucking the nub into your mouth.
Her fingers laced your hair, pulling you closer, she began to make the cute little whimpers she did ash she got close. “Don’t stop. Don’t stop.” She begged.
You didn't dare stop. You allowed her to gently fuck your face as she came in your mouth. She let out a deep groan as her legs clamped around your head. You stayed between her legs for most of the morning, sucking on her clit until she came 2 more times. When you finally released her she looked spent. Her face was a picture of bliss.
You ordered room service for some actual breakfast, even though you wished eating pussy classed as a meal it wasn’t sustainable. You both sat out on the balcony of your room, in your robes as you ate your breakfast. You spoke about her upcoming match, in a week. Sometimes you dreaded these mornings with the women, they could sometimes be awkward, no matter how hard you tried, but it wasn't like that with Alexia, she was completely at ease.
She even asked about your work, only one other guest asked about it before, no one ever asked, it was like they became weird at the fact that they paid for this service, but didn’t mind when you was fucking them an hour before. Alexia looked to be deep in thought when you spoke about it, she asked so many questions and you didn't mind answering.
“So no sex with men?” She asked.
“Nope. Just punishment, name calling, make them clean my room. Things like that.” You drank your oj.
“I see, this is good, no? They pay you, but they clean.” She giggled at her own joke.
You couldn't help but laugh at her, she was a completely different person from what you saw in the media, she was funny, gentle and a complete softy.
“I want to ride you.” She smirked into her glass as she said it.
But clearly she still had the confidence to take over a room.
“You’re going to suck it first.” You winked.
10 minutes later you found yourself on your back with the goddess that she was, riding your dick, she moaned as she fucked herself. Once again it wasn’t rushed, her hips moved slowly on you. You pinched at her nipples as she whimpered at the sensation, her eyes never left yours, it felt like you were making love to her. It was different but it was nice, it was what she needed. You circled her clit gently, teasing her, you made her beg for it. You reminded her who she belonged to. You told her she had to think of you when she touched herself, to remind her that her pussy was yours.
She came with a low groan, her throat sounded like it couldn't take anymore, her back arched, her head tilted back. You kissed her chest as she came down from her high. She helped you take the harness off and before you knew it her head was between your legs, you clit in between her lips. Just like you did, she was slow, painfully slow, you could feel her tongue exploring every crease of you. You came embarrassingly fast, but you couldn’t help it, Alexia had put some kind of spell on you. The second time wasn't so fast, her three fingers in you made you crumble beneath her, she kissed your mouth as you came, making you whimper into her lips.
Your time with her was coming to an end, you called room service to bring up her bags. You both showered, together of course. You couldn't help but find your hands between her legs once more, pinning her to the shower wall as your fingers fucked her roughly. Her moaning bouncing in the tiled room sounded even better.
You were both dressed now, you held her hands kissing her knuckles, you couldn't believe how quick the time had gone with her.
“I don’t even know where to start. Thank you so much for everything.” The blonde smiled shyly.
“You’re more than welcome. I’ve had a lot of fun with you.” You smirked.
“I don’t know if you would want to but I have some spare tickets for my gam -, No sorry. I don’t know why I said that. I - I - erh,”
You stopped her with a kiss. “I'd like that actually.”
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah?” Her cheeks blushed for a whole other reason.
“Yeah, you can get my details off the team. I’ll let them know I’m okay with it.” You smiled.
“Okay, great. I can't wait.” She kissed your cheek.
“Yeah, Lucy Bronze is my favourite, I can't wait to see her.” You smirked.
She gave you a fake laugh and rolled her eyes. Smiling as she nudged you away. “Ha ha! So funny.”
What was happening to you? You never allowed this but Alexia was something else, someone completely different, you genuinely liked the girl.
“Good bye, my Queen” Alexia kissed your lips.
You pulled back “Good bye la meva Reina.”
You opened the door, one of the ‘toys’ was waiting outside to accompany Alexia out. You said your final goodbyes and watched the Spaniard leave. A weird feeling sat in your stomach, you had never felt like this before, but a weird empty space had overtaken you. The only thing you could hope was that she didn't chicken out wanting to see you next week.
—---
A couple days had passed and you hadn't gotten anything from the girl you assumed she didn't do it, or she changed her mind. Until one evening you heard a notification on your phone. You smiled as you read it.
‘Link Attachment - Tickets, VIP access for Barcelona grounds.’
Alexia - Sorry it took a while, my team hadn't sent it over. I hope you can still make it x
You - I was starting to think I’d have to watch it from home lol. Thank you, I can't wait x
Alexia - ahaha, no! I got you amazing seats. How have you been? X
You spoke throughout the night, you couldn't get over the way Alexia made you feel. There was a connection you had with her that felt so natural, butterflies fluttered in your stomach for the next week, until you were face to face with La Reina again.
#woso soccer#women’s football#woso#woso community#woso fanfics#woso smut#alexia putellas x imagine#alexia putellas smut#alexia putellas x reader#alexia x reader#alexia putellas
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I See You, Darling
[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.
Part 2 here!!
Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--
A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.
Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.
————━─━────༺༻────━─━————
One.
Two.
Three.
It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine.
You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work.
Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?
Right?
But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.
Shall we?
——
You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.
So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying.
Until you ran into a problem.
Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him.
You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.
You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty.
But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation.
You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.
How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?
And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything.
Strange.
What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.
“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response.
However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you.
You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.
‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.
You laugh to yourself.
Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.
——
You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.
As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot.
Zzzt Zzzzt!
Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal.
“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?”
‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.
“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━
Well. Thank you.
It’s none of your concern, fangs.
Better now that you’re here.
What happened last night?
━─━────༺༻────━─━
What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.
You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4.
“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.
“What do you think happened last night?”
“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.
Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise.
“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.
——
You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.
And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.
One.
Two.
Three.
It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine.
And this chill so does love playing games.
You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.
You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.
“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence.
“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”
A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.
“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.
A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.
“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider.
“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.
“What do you mean, ‘months?”
He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.
“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.
“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.
And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.
“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”
————━─━────༺༻────━─━————
Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol
#astarion#astarion x reader#astarion ancunin#astarion x you#astarion x mc#aware!astarion#to be continued#or maybe not lol#I haven't written anything in so long#and for good reason#baldur's gate 3 x reader#bg3 x reader
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late nights w/ riki
GENRE! fluff
NOTES! gn!reader, est relationship, reader and riki r still in school, wc: 230+ for all
SYNPOSIS! just things you'd do instead of sleeping with riki!
✭ CONVENIENCE STORE RUNS
half asleep with your head resting on your boyfriend's shoulder, you felt light pokes on your cheek, many of them. the sudden touches startled you a bit, causing you to slowly become more awake.
"ki?" you mumbled, he took his hand back, shutting the laptop which was playing a movie in front of you two.
"we're going somewhere, get up" he informed, which confused you because it was 12:36 at night. an odd time to be leaving the house.
"okay..?" too tired to question where you were headed, you slowly got up, fixing up your hair and stretching as he led you out of the house.
the walk was short, but once you guys arrived, you knew it should've been obvious. of course he was taking you to a convenience store, he always does, especially at the most questionable hours. hand in hand, you two entered the luminescent building, waving to the visibly bored cashier before making your way to your favourite aisle. the chips, of course. there were always so many options, from doritos to a knock-off version of lays; 'slays'.
"i'm gonna get a drink, be right back" you told him after grabbing your go-to brand. riki was still deciding, he was always picky about what he wanted for the mood he was in, but for you, it was easy.
"noo, don't go" he held onto your hand tighter after you tried to slip it away, not letting you leave.
"it'll be a second!" you tried to reason, but riki didn't plan on separating from you for a second. god this boy was so clingy sometimes.
"my hand will get cold and fall off, you have to stay!" he paused, trying to think of the best way to bribe you "i'll buy you those gummies you like. i hid the last pack on purpose!" he smirked, knowing you couldn't deny those sour-filled strawberry gummies with the cute characters on the packaging. you gave in, and literally did not let go of his hand until you two got back home.
✭ STUDYING
riki wasn't much of a scholar, at all, and maybe you weren't a complete nerd, but you did try to get good grades. you two had a history test coming up, and not wanting to fail like the last time, you planned on studying that friday night. though, riki was dying for you to sleep over, so he invited you with the promise that he'd study with you and quiz you. now, he was more focused on doodling and making little comments instead of memorizing important dates and events.
"love, if you draw one more deranged cat i'm going to throw you out the window" you playfully threatened him, staring down at the page of solely doodles which was illuminated by a little desk lamp. what previously had a few minor notes written now had many.. questionable.. looking cats.
"i don't get it. who is the bald guy? what did he even do?" he switched the topic.
"if i tell you the whole story will you actually listen?" you tilted your head, admiring his pretty face at the same time.
"well, i'll try"
"after, i'll ask you questions about it, if you get them right i'll kiss you!" after saying that, riki paid VERY close attention to each and every detail of the story, getting every question you asked right, earning him several kisses. he didn't mind studying if it would be like that.
✭ KISSING
straight up, you two will stay up so long just kissing and taking breaks in between to giggle and talk. whether it be on his couch when his parents aren't home, or in the bathroom while there are guests over, you two love to stay up late just kissing.
"wait, i'm not done my story yet!" you pulled away from a long and loving kiss he gave you, since he interrupted you in the middle of a story you were telling, you wanted to get to the good part before you got too distracted by his pillowy lips. "she essentially just called me a rascal, i guess she was trying to offend me?' you continued.
"oh, wow" he mumbled, trying to make it seem as if he were listening to your story, but he really wasn't. you were tired, he was tired, and you were both sitting at the edge of his bed, unable to look away from eachother.
"old people, they really-" before you could finish, riki leaned in again, pressing his lips onto yours, giving you all of his love in a lazy kiss. you couldn't help but give in, the way he held the side of your face and the way he tucked strands of loose hair behind your ear, it drove you crazy. hearing your voice and watching your lonely lips move drove him crazy too. the night was still young, and he had no plans of going to sleep, he craved the feeling of being so closely connected to you, and couldn't get enough of the sweet lingering taste of lipbalm you had applied earlier.
✭ gaming
just you, him, nintendo switches in hand, and a tv. you two were playing mario kart, your character on the right and his on the left side of the large screen. you two were sitting back on the couch, you leaned against him, and you were very concentrated on the game. riki noticed that, and sacrificed driving off of the road to put his hand over your eyes, blocking your vision.
"riki! stop!" you squealed, hitting his hand with the controller, causing him to move it away from your face. he laughed, but you didn't, because you dropped by two places. "i'm not in 2nd anymore! are you serious!" now he was in second place, and close to catching up to first.
"my bad, a ghost moved my hand" he fake apologized.
"yeah and you'll be sleeping on the couch with that ghost instead of with me" you concealed a smirk, staring ahead at the tv as if you said nothing, but he shot his eyes towards you.
"what! i'm sorry! for real!" his eyes darted from the tv, to you, and so on because he still had to somewhat focus on the game.
"nuh uh"
"i'll give second place back to you, baby" he compromised, which sounded like a good idea to you. he stopped moving so you could catch up, replacing him in second place.
"and you have to change into the matching pajamas.." you added to the deal after you caught up, you were wearing the cute set of hello kitty pajamas, and were dying to see your boyfriend in his matching ones. riki knew he didn't have a choice.
a/n: i love this man saur much sigh
#enhypen#enhypen fluff#enhypen niki#enhypen riki#niki x reader#nishimura riki#ni ki#riki x reader#riki fluff
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beach day headcanons please (any characters you’d like)!!! we were deprived of the typical anime fanservice imo
`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ ohhhhhh my gosh anon i was literally SO SO HAPPY to get this ask!!! decided to stick with the usual charas you guys enjoy, plus some falin!!! hope this turned out okay and thank you so much for having me write it for you!!! <333
— DUNMESHI BEACH DAY HCS.
꒰ charas: ꒱ laios, chilchuck, falin, & mickbell.
꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + fluff with gn!reader.
꒰ wc: ꒱ 1.4k
✦ hope this turned out okay!! it was such a cute idea and so much fun that if anyone has requests for more charas, i’d be more than happy to do it!! <33
— LAIOS:
✦ We know that he doesn’t do well in hot weather, so you can imagine he’d be sporting only swimsuit trunks and flip flops for sure.
✦ Definitely enjoys being in the ocean, especially to try and cool off. You can imagine he’d be really interested in knowing more about what’s in the water around him, and probably points things out to you that he finds interesting.
✦ Be prepared for him to burn really fast, so make sure he gets plenty of sunscreen!! It’s always cute to see him walk up to you and ask for help, in which you gladly oblige. You help get those spots he can’t reach, and he does appreciate just how thorough you are.
✦ You’ll probably end up splashing him, which he’ll return in kind. Be careful what you start, because you’ll end up drenched by the end of it!
✦ A picnic on the beach with him is definitely something that happens while you’re there. Laios is so excited to share a meal with you in such a beautiful setting, and finds himself giving you that goofy grin at just how happy he is. He makes sure to pull all the stops to make this enjoyable for you, even preparing your favorite snacks.
✦ Definitely goes home with a few shells or shark teeth, if he found any. Laios thinks they’re too cool not to pick up and examine, running over to you and showing you what he found in the sand.
“You won’t believe what I found!” Laios calls out to you, jogging over to where you sat on your towel. His hands cradled something, and as he stretched his arms out to show you, a smile grew on your lips.
In his hands was an almost perfect conch shell, something he held with pride and excitement. His smile matching yours, he said your name softly. “Do you think if you put it up to your ear, you’d hear the ocean like those stories?”
You shrugged your shoulders, not able to hold back the giggle at his glee. “Only one way to find out, right? Just make sure there’s nothing still living in it.”
Laios still keeps that shell in a safe place, wanting to remember the day you spent together.
— CHILCHUCK:
✦ This man is definitely showing up in a Hawaiian dad shirt and cargo shorts. The first few buttons are undone, and he has a pair of sandals on that he insists he only saves for days like this.
✦ Chilchuck plans on staying at the spot you claimed with towels and an umbrella, a drink in hand. He’s definitely enjoying the sight of you in a swimsuit and the breeze ruffling your hair, but he’d never admit that.
✦ You try to pull him towards the water, but you only manage to get his feet wet. Chil tells you this is as far as he’ll go, but that disappointed pout on your face makes his heart race a bit. Ok, fine… Maybe he’ll go up to his knees for you…
✦ Probably spends most of his time drinking and relaxing, a hand behind his head and alcohol in the other. Very dad-like of him, you muse, which causes his face to heat up and grumbles to leave him.
✦ Ends up falling asleep, the sound of the waves and the secluded shade from the sun causing his eyes to flutter shut. You can’t help but laugh a little, returning from your time in the water to study his sleeping form. He looks so peaceful like this, and you don’t have the heart to wake him up…
✦ If you do somehow manage to get him fully in the water, be prepared for him to get targeted by the tide. Maybe you even suggest getting him a float, which he gives you that blank stare in reply.
“There, that’s not so bad, is it?” You say as he finds himself in the middle of a tube float, eyes narrowed towards you.
“This makes me feel like a kid.” Chilchuck complains, yet you see him grip onto it tighter as an incoming wave makes an appearance.
You pull it over to you, the inflatable bumping into your stomach as you give him that teasing grin. “Guess you’re stuck with me while we’re out here, huh?”
The half-foot groans, debating on whether or not he’d make it if he tried to swim back to shore right now.
— FALIN:
✦ Wears a light t-shirt and shorts, opting to be comfy! She also has a hat she wears to help keep the sun out of her eyes. If she did plan on swimming, I like to imagine she’d have a swim shirt and a one piece swimsuit!
✦ Like her brother, she was excited to see all the shells and creatures at the beach, bringing you things she found fascinating. You might even find her entranced with a sand dollar and stating how pretty it is.
✦ Walks into the water hand in hand with you, but also really enjoys walking along the sand near the shore. As the sun sets, she intertwines her fingers with yours, leading you along and watching the pinks and blues in the sky reflect on the waves.
✦ Also definitely goes on a picnic with you, the beach making her cheeks even more rosy than usual. You can’t help but tell her how cute she looks in her outfit, her hair loosely blowing in the breeze. Falin would give you a sweet smile, the same one you fell in love with.
✦ Don’t be surprised if she leads you back to the water after you make sure she’s not getting burnt, insisting that she wants to enjoy how cool the waves feel. You’re more than happy to walk out a little deeper with her, noticing how she still keeps your hand in her own.
“It’s so nice out here…” You heard her mutter, a content smile dimpling her cheeks. The sunset left a sweet gradient in her hair, something that made you unable to look away.
“It really is. Too bad it’s getting dark,” you reply, a little disappointed that the day is already over. Falin squeezed your hand, pulling you away from your thoughts.
“Maybe we should stay and watch the stars come out.” Her voice was so gentle, causing you to give her a grin of your own.
“Let’s stay a little longer.”
— MICKBELL:
✦ Like the official art we have of him swimming with Kuro, he’s definitely sporting a pair of swim trunks and flip flops, with his hair in his signature ponytail.
✦ He and Kuro are so excited to swim, and drag you along to the water as soon as you get there. Of course, Mick is either clinging to you or to Kuro when in the waves, not seeking to really swim on his own.
✦ You definitely enjoy watching them swim and play around more than you’d like to admit, especially with Mick hiding his face and complaining when Kuro decides to shake all the water out of his coat.
✦ Mick really likes finding shells he thinks look neat, and showing them off to you and Kuro proudly. Maybe you even find yourself building a sand castle, with him and his buddy watching closely and moving to help you. He’s in charge of decorating it, while you’re in charge of building it! Kuro helps dig up some of the sand to use.
✦ The three of you end up getting a sweet treat, cooling off in the shade and enjoying the time spent together. Knowing Mickbell, he’s going to lay his head in your lap as he rests after so much activity, looking up at you with that cheeky grin he usually has.
“I could get used to this!” Mickbell sighs, nuzzling into your lap as he makes himself comfortable. Kuro is watching the waves, sitting beside you as the sun begins to fade from the horizon.
“I would’ve thought you’d be ready to go home a lot sooner.” You teased him, brushing his messy bangs out of his face. Scoffing, he made sure you saw as he rolled his eyes.
“If I didn’t have you and Kuro, maybe… But this is something we’ll have to do again. Right, Kuro?” The Kobold nodded, causing a warm grin to spread on your face. He was certainly right about that.
#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#HOPING THIS IS OK ANON HHHHH#i’m hitting a creative roadblock with school#which is causing me to stress a bit#but i wanted to get this out for you guys!!! <333#first time writing for falin so i hope it’s ok…#sorry if anyone’s ooc!! WAHHH#laios x reader#laios touden x reader#falin x reader#falin touden x reader#chilchuck tims x reader#chilchuck x reader#mickbell tomas x reader#mickbell x reader#delicious in dungeon x reader#dunmeshi x reader#dungeon meshi x reader
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JJBA men thinking of you while masturbating
NSFW / Minors don't interact / 18+
Characters: Jotaro Kujo / Bruno Bucciaratti / Josuke Higashikata / Rohan Kishibe / Giorno Giovanna x female reader
Warnings: male masturbation, fantasies about sex (blowjobs, penetrative sex), slight exhibitionism, voyeurism (Josuke’s part)
Notes: All underage characters aged up of course. Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think! Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated <3
Jotaro Kujo
Jotaro is used to being the one pined over, the one admired, turning people’s heads, the constant touch of careful hands, being adored for his sheer height and width.
What he isn’t used to, however, is being the admirer.
Since he’s laid his eyes on you, he got to know the feeling. He didn’t even realize it at first. Of course, he wants to study with you, and naturally, he wants your opinion on the latest seminar paper he has written, certainly, he wants to help you with your work. You’re his fellow student, his friend.
But when Jotaro used his stand to stop the time for just a few seconds, to freeze the sweet smile on your face as you looked at him, eyes bright and glowing, to just observe you longer like this, he realized that maybe, you’re not just his friend. Maybe, you mean more to him.
And as he sits in the library now, unable to focus on his laptop screen in front of him, he turns his head to look at you. And he’s sure; you’re not just his friend.
He can see the subtle shadow under your eyes, the way your eyelids seem too heavy, and your disheveled hair. Something tears at his very heart when he gazes at you.
You turn your head, shooting him a tired, nonetheless, sweet smile.
“Could you look at this?” You ask him, pointing at your laptop.
Jotaro nods, scooting closer to you with his chair.
The lack of proximity makes it hard for him to concentrate on the words before him, let alone your voice as you try to explain your work. He hums here and there, his eyes taking in the words, his brain not comprehending the meaning.
He can smell your scent, your subtle and sweet perfume. He feels your heat on his skin. Jotaro slightly turns his head. You’re so close, he can see every pore of your skin, your lashes, the distinct color of your eyes, and the gentle sweep of your nose. He swallows hard against the dryness of his mouth.
You turn your head, slightly rising your eyebrows, your gaze locking with his. His gaze drops to your glistening lips, his desire for you flaring hot in his chest. His head dips forward automatically, every cell of his urging him to lock his lips with yours.
His chair nearly falls over as he stands up abruptly.
“What are you doing?” You ask perplexed.
Jotaro ignores you. He can’t face you like this.
The library is almost vacant. He moves along the high shelves until his breathing has normalized a bit.
He leans against one of the shelves, trying desperately to ignore the way his blood runs hotly through his veins, the way it rushes down his body.
It’s palpable, the way he longs for you, the way he yearns to touch you. His half-hardened dick twitches in his pants at the thought of it.
He buries his face in his hands, embarrassed at his own weakness. Memories of you flood his mind; your shining lips, your bright eyes, your scent.
His head falls back against the books on the shelf, his hands dangling feebly on his side. Jotaro can’t seem to get ahold of himself. His mind is racing, he sees you, putting up your hair, exposing your slender neck, he sees you, sitting next to him, your short dress riding up your thighs.
It seems like the rational part of his brain stopped functioning. He’s not even fully aware of what he’s doing, so caught up with thinking of you, until a little sigh drips from his lips.
He looks down, seeing his dick straining noticeably against his pants, his hand palming him through his trousers.
His face flushes hot, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. No one is around, he assures himself once more.
It has no use stopping now.
Hurriedly, he tugs down his pants and boxers. His cock springs free, right into his grip. He hisses at the drag of his palm along his dick. It feels so good. The slight possibility of getting caught only heightens his lust.
He watches his fist drag along his length, taking in the bead of pre-cum dropping along his shaft, easing the glide of his hand.
He thinks about your thighs again, how soft they would feel as he’d let his large hands smooth along them, and what he would find when you spread them for him.
His head tips back against the shelf, his eyes fluttering shut as he slightly increases his pace. He imagines your glistening pussy, dripping for him. He’d sink his long, thick fingers into you, curling and scissoring them until he has you whimpering and whining, begging for him to finally fuck you.
Jotaro can practically see your expression; your doe-eyes peering at him, your lips parted, your body trembling. A low groan rips past his chest, his fist squeezing his cock just a little tighter.
He pictures you, sitting atop of him, your delicate hands pressing against his chest as you lower yourself on his dick, slowly taking him in, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when he fills you up completely. He would watch your pretty tits bouncing with every move of yours, and the beautiful, lust-drunk expression on your face.
His hips stutter forward into his fist as he imagines rutting into you, holding your hips so tightly as he fucks up into you. He can practically hear your moans, your sweet, whiny whimpers, and the way his skin slaps against yours.
Jotaro increases the pace of his hand, concentrating on his sensitive tip, a strained gasp falling from his parted lips.
He imagines you cumming, his name drops from your lips, drawn out into a delirious moan. He can almost feel it; the way your pussy would spasm around his throbbing dick, practically urging him to spill his seed into you.
A string of curses leave his lips, his hips stuttering into his hand once more before he cums. He jerks through his orgasm, a spurt of cum dripping down his dick, onto his hand, with each hurried stroke. He thinks about rolling his hips into you, letting your pussy milk him dry as a mess of your slick and his cum runs down your thighs.
He shallowly thrusts into his fist until he’s hissing from overstimulation. His heavy eyes flutter open, his heart racing in his heaving chest as his gaze drops.
A strained sigh drops from his lips as he takes in his messy hand holding his weeping length. Slowly, he comes back down to earth, realizing what he’s just done.
His head snaps in the direction where you’re probably sitting, hopefully, still staring at your laptop screen. And Jotaro just stands here, a few meters away, his released emotions for you tainting his hand.
Bruno Bucciaratti
It’s obvious that you’re new on the job. Bruno doesn’t notice this solely because he’s a regular at the restaurant and hasn’t seen you before.
Rather, it is the way you fail to see the subtle signs the guests give you, asking for the check or mixing up orders one too many times.
You’re the new waitress. And until now you don’t do a great job.
It’s obvious that you’re stressed, evident from the slight sheen of sweat on your forehead and the way your cheeks glow. A wave of sympathy washes over Bucciaratti as he watches you rush around the restaurant. And he feels something more, a little tug in his chest because you just look so unbelievably cute while doing that.
He’s not even mad that he already had to wait so long for you to finally bring him his wine. Because when you do, he can look at you from up close, observing your delicate fingers place the wine glass on his table, watching the loose strands of hair hanging into your face.
And when he thanks you, the smile you give him makes the minutes worth the wait.
His eyes hang onto your body as he watches you retreat. He’s glad that his fellow gang members aren’t here right now because they surely would tease him for being a pervert or something. But he just can’t help himself, his eyes greedily glide along your silhouette.
Bruno takes a sip of his wine, trying to cool down the hotness rushing through his body.
He orders his second glass and he’s not sure if he just flatters himself, but he’s pretty sure that you pay particular attention to him. Or maybe he’s just deluding himself.
When you walk towards him, his eyes cling to your waist and the way your trousers hug you so right. You look amazing; even when you’re stressed.
He breathes in your scent when you lean closer to him, basking in the feeling of your warmth.
The clang of the glass rudely rips him out of his thoughts.
Seems like you’re not only incredibly gorgeous but also incredibly clumsy.
The wine leaks over the table, staining the white tablecloth red and spilling all over his pants.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” The panic in your voice is palpable.
“Don’t worry,” he tries to soothe you.
He watches your eyes nervously flickering over the mess you made before they lock with his.
You look at him with so much gratitude because he doesn’t make a big scene. His heart flutters in his chest.
You quickly take ahold of a napkin, dabbing it on his trousers, trying to let the fabric soak up the liquid.
You’re so close, bending down, granting him an intimate look right on your cleavage. Bruno swallows hard, reluctantly averting his gaze.
He can barely hear you muttering your apologies. He just tries to stay calm, to think of anything other than your hand smoothing along his thigh, rubbing over his stained trousers.
The motion just makes a flood of sinful associations enter his mind. He can practically feel his face growing hot.
Abruptly he gets up. You look at him startled.
“Sorry did I-“
“I’m just going to clean myself up, no worries really,” he adds, unable to bear the way you gaze at him.
The stain is big, bright red, clearly noticeable on his white trousers. The soap and water he applies have no use in helping it whatsoever.
He doesn’t even care, his mind is somewhere else anyway.
Bruno just can’t get over the way you looked up at him, the lack of proximity you two found yourself in, and the way you were practically kneeling in front of him. He can only think about you doing other things in that position.
A long sigh escapes his mouth. He surrenders, stopping to take care of his stain. His head falls against the closed bathroom door and he allows himself to let his desires take hold of his body and mind.
His dick strains hard against his pants as he sees you in front of him again, kneeling, with those doe eyes peering up at him.
He frees his cock from the confinement of his pants, wrapping his hand tightly around his girth. Bruno hisses quietly, dragging his hand along his throbbing length, imagining it is your hand wrapped around him instead.
He visualizes your hand pumping into his swollen head, the way his cock would look so big in comparison. A low gasp drops from his lips as a bead of pre-cum drips down his shaft, easing the glide of his eager hand.
His head tips back against the door, thinking about you kneeling in front of him, looking up at him as your delicate hand strokes his cock.
The pace of his hurried hand increases, as he envisions you taking him into your mouth, softly sucking on his flushed tip, your eyes peering up at him obediently. He bites back a low whine.
He sees your beautiful face in front of him; your glowing face, your starry eyes, as you take all of him inside of your pretty mouth. His hands would thread through your hair, holding you, feeling the restriction of your tight throat. And then you would follow his guidance, bobbing your head just how he likes it.
Bruno groans quietly. “Just like that,” he mutters, pumping hurriedly into his swollen head.
He can clearly see you in his mind, those unbelievable eyes staring up at him, tears spilling over as he ruts into the wet, soft heat of your mouth. His hips involuntarily rut forward into his fist.
A low whine slips past his lips, which he has no control over. He practically feels your swollen lips wrapped around him.
His hips stutter forward into his hands, two, three times before he tips over the edge. His orgasm washes over him, his thighs tensing, breathing erratic.
Bucciaratti jerks through his orgasm, panting hard, imagining his dick pulsing in your mouth, his cum landing on your awaiting tongue as you swallow everything that he gives you.
Then he’d pull out, letting his hot spurts of cum land on your beautiful face, mixing in with your spit, dripping down your chin, your cheeks. He groans desperately, seeing your messy face, your lips parted, opening your mouth eagerly for him, glassy eyes staring up at him obediently as he paints your face white.
His fist pumps into his swollen tip until he hisses from the overstimulation. Only then he slowly opens his eyes, taking in his soiled hand.
This mess may compete with the one you spilled on his table.
Josuke Higashikata
Sometimes Josuke really has to wonder if you do it on purpose. Can you really be that unaware of your surroundings, this clueless?
It isn’t the first time he has watched you like this. Far from it actually.
Since you’ve moved into the house right next to his, you made a habit of getting undressed, late in the evening or night, your light illuminating the room, leaving little room for imagination.
You haven’t invested in any kind of curtains yet and your lucky neighbor hopes you never will.
It has kind of become a habit of his, watching you through his dark windows, careful that you don’t notice him. And you never do.
Josuke observes how you lose your sweater first, followed by the top you were wearing underneath. He sucks in a little breath when he notices that you weren’t wearing a bra underneath. He can clearly see the outline of your bare breast, the way they softly jiggle as you throw the top somewhere.
Blood rushes down his body as his eyes greedily glide along your exposed upper body, your beautiful tits, your soft tummy, and your waist. He swallows against the dryness of his mouth, desperately hoping that one day he could be the one undressing you.
You open your jeans now, letting them plummet on the floor before stepping out of them. You bent over, picking them up to fold them away.
Fortunately for him, this gives him a perfect view of your ass. He can see your pussy through your panties, squished between those perfect asscheeks.
His heart beats violently against this ribcage, his blood running hot. He can feel it; the twitching of his hardened cock.
What he would give to bend you over like this himself, to pull those panties to the side. Josuke pulls down his pants, freeing his throbbing cock, wrapping his hand around his girth, because now his favorite part of your little routine comes; the instant he replays in his mind day and night.
You pull down your panties, carelessly tossing them on the floor, leaving your body completely bare. You observe your own reflection in the large mirror hanging on your wall. You let your fingers run through your hair, before they glide along your sides, your gaze following them, sliding along your body.
Josuke strokes his dick, his hungry eyes gliding along your silhouette, leaving no part unseen. You’re enticing. He could watch you like this forever.
But he can’t. You get your kimono, tieing it around your waist as you step out of the room, switching off the light.
Josuke sighs. He closes his eyes, still seeing your body in front of him.
He imagines his large hands gliding along your sides, feeling your soft skin under his, grabbing, kneading your flesh. He would cup your breasts, letting his thumbs circle your nipples until they harden under his touch.
What he would give to gaze deep into your eyes, pressing kisses along your throat, further down, sucking your nipples, hearing your voice bleeding into a soft moan.
His hand increases his pace as he imagines dropping to his knees, smoothing his palms along your hips, grabbing your ass.
A low whine rips past his chest as he thinks about your pretty pussy, right in front of his face.
He would worship you, his eager lips pressing feathery kisses onto your plush thighs before letting himself allow a taste of you. He just knows you would taste so good, letting his tongue glide along your folds, teasingly, before his tongue would draw tight circles on your sensitive clit.
Josuke imagines you bending in front of him, facing your floor-length mirror, as he slowly sinks into your sloppy pussy.
He would watch you, your reflection, the way your expression would change with each of his slow, deep thrusts, your face glowing as you watch yourself getting fucked by him. He knows you like to watch yourself.
He hurriedly pumps into his swollen tip, a bead of pre-cum rolling down his length, easing the glide of his eager hand.
Josuke can practically hear your voice, your whines, and the depraved sounds of pleasure, skin slapping against skin, the wet squelch of your pussy as you drip all over him. He would watch his large, slick cock split you open, again and again until he has your whole body trembling.
He imagines it's your pussy wrapped so tightly around his twitching cock, not his own hand, as he fucks into his fist. His hips involuntarily stutter forward into his hand before he tips over the edge.
He groans breathlessly, a string of curses leaving his lips as he jerks himself through his orgasm. His hot cum stains his hand, dripping down his shaft as he shallowly thrusts into his fist, riding out his high. He lets go of himself, panting as he comes down from his high.
Josuke will be there the next evening as well, waiting for you to give him his show.
Rohan Kishibe
Rohan observes you, he practically reads your face like a book - and this without the help of Heaven’s Door.
He hates you for your obvious expression. He really does.
You skim through his latest proposal for his manga, your delicate hands turning page after page as his green eyes hang onto your every expression.
You're strict with him and honest. Most people would probably appreciate it if their manga editor possessed such qualities. Rohan doesn’t. He hates getting told what to do. He knows he’s good. Everyone knows this. Everyone should.
Only you don’t seem to, often having suggestions or comments. He pretends like these aren’t helpful. He doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction.
Just like now, as you propose some suggestions, pointing out some inconsistencies in the story, he just listens, his eyes gazing into yours.
“How very helpful of you, I can really count on you, my love,” he hums, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
You bite back a smile, standing up from the seat behind your desk, and making your way to him. You stand behind him now, your hands resting on his shoulders. His muscle tense under your touch. You dip down, letting your hands glide along his chest, playfully so.
Rohan feels your breath on his neck and your heat on his skin, his nose filling up with your scent.
“Oh, you know me, always at your service,” you breathe into his ear before you retreat.
He composes himself, hurriedly standing up as well, saying goodbye to you as usual. He sees a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. He fully knows, that you just enjoyed baffling him. And he can’t seem to have anything to say, that would imply that he wasn’t.
The moment resurfaces in his mind throughout the remaining day.
He doesn’t know why meeting you always aggravates him so much. But this time you really were too much.
Late at night, when he’s lying in his bed, he really can’t seem to shake the memory of him. It’s like he can still feel your hot breath on his neck, your soft, inviting voice. He practically feels your hands smoothing along his chest.
Rohan desperately tries to ignore the way his dick twitches in his boxers. He has to tell himself that he doesn’t like you. Not one bit. Not at all. He tosses and turns, throwing his blanket away, and getting up to get himself some water.
It doesn’t help. He sits at the edge of his bed, looking down at his hardened cock showing through his boxers.
Every minute he doesn’t do anything, his longing for pleasure, for release, seems to heighten until he’s unable to hold back anymore.
Rohan tugs down his boxers, letting his cock spring into his grip. The first, slow drag of his palm along his length elicits him a gasp of relief. He lowers his gaze, watching as he drags his fist up and down his cock.
His mind is somewhere entirely else.
He thinks about you. About your hands on his chest, about your scent, about your sweet, honeyed voice.
He imagines you’re here in the room with him, that it was your hand that is dragging along his weeping length.
Rohan envisions you kneeling in front of him, your eyes peering up at him curiously before you wrap your plush lips around him. You’d look so good with hollowed cheeks and obedient eyes, bobbing your head.
“Just like that,” he mumbles. His grip grew a little tighter with each pump of his hand.
He visualizes his hand threading through your hair, pushing you to take more of him. He yearns to see tears spill from your eyes, he wants you to gag on his cock.
“Nothing to say now, huh?” He mumbles deliriously, lost in his fantasy.
He pretends it's your mouth and throat he’s fucking into, not his own hand. A breathless moan pulled from his chest, and another bead of pre-cum dripped down his cock to ease the glide of his hurried hand.
He can feel his impending orgasm, the way the knot in his stomach is twisting tighter and tighter with each harsh stroke of his hand.
A desperate groan falls from his mouth when he imagines your glassy eyes peering up at him. He envisions slipping his cock out of your mouth, and how you would loll out your tongue for him.
“You want that? Want me to cum all over that pretty face of yours, huh?” His voice is breathless, strained.
A low whine rips past his chest as he practically hears your whiny, desperate “Yes.”
He cums, a drawn-out moan of your name filling up the room, as his orgasm washes over him. His thighs tremble, his abdomen tensing as his hot cum paints his hand white.
He visualizes his spurts of cum landing on your tongue, dripping down your chin and lips, mixing in with your spit, imagining you swallowing, eagerly taking all that he gives you.
“Good girl,” he breathes, his chest heaving with his heavy pants.
Slowly he comes back into reality as his cock softens in his hand. His dick falls heavy against his thigh, as he observes the mess he made.
Rohan swallows, muttering to himself that he really does find you annoying. But he isn’t so sure if he can still believe this now.
Giorno Giovanna
Giorno leans against the rough bark of the tall birch, his long legs spread on the grass. He’s letting his eye wander, observing people walking their dogs, kids playing tag, and friend groups sitting in a circle on the green grass, beer in hand.
It fulfills him with contentment, with a certain tranquility when he sees all these people that are so happy, so careless, seeming so innocent and pure. He often comes here, clearing his mind, forgetting about all his duties and stress.
And as his gaze moves from one place to another he discovers you. As his eyes rest on you, he wonders how he could’ve been caught up in observing anything other. And now that he has seen you, how could he look away?
You’re sitting on a bench not far from him, a book in your delicate hands. Hair falls into your face, softly swaying in the breeze. He notices the corners of your eyes crinkling as you try to make out the sentences in the bright sunlight.
After a few minutes, it seems like you have given up, placing the book next to you on the bench. Your eyes fall close, soaking up the sun.
And Giorno just watches you; angling your face towards the sun, discarded book next to you, the soft breeze playing with your hair.
He doesn’t know why he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. It calms him in a way that is hard to describe, to see you comfortable in your skin, with no trace of stress or worry painted on your face, falling into the moment, appreciating it. It touches something deep within himself.
Giorno is mostly surrounded by hard, harsh people. Men that have killed, and will do so again.
It’s refreshing to look at you, it makes his skin feel warmer than the sun shining upon it.
He doesn’t know how to approach you, he’s not even sure if he should. He picks up a blade of grass, letting his stand metamorphose it into a butterfly.
The little insect reels through the air, heading for you.
You don’t notice it until it lands on the tip of your nose. Your eyes open languidly. They grow wider as they take in the butterfly right before them.
It takes off again, fluttering a few centimeters in front of your face. Giorno watches you laugh out of surprise, your smile shining brighter than the afternoon sun.
You stretch out your hand, the butterfly landing on your finger, sitting still. The wonder in your eyes as you observe it from up close makes his heart flutter, just like the butterfly’s wings. He’s entranced, his eyes hanging onto you until you go.
And when he is back in his home, after talking to some of his subordinates, after feeling the stress and his responsibility resting on his shoulders anew he wishes he could see you. To let his gaze travel along your features, to feel this tenderness washing over himself again.
He leans back in his chair behind his desk, picturing you. How your eyes widened in surprise upon gazing at the butterfly, how your delicate hand waved through the air, how your skin glowed in the sun.
Giorno can’t help wondering how soft your skin would feel against his lips, imagining kissing your shut eyes, pressing feathery kisses onto every centimeter of your face until his ears pick up your soft giggles. He would pull away, his nose nearly touching yours, his hands cradling your cheeks, watching the creases at the corner of your eyes deepening.
This is harmless. This is okay.
But his mind can’t stop running. He can’t stop his thoughts from wandering, from imagining himself pressing tender kisses along your jaw, your throat, along your breasts.
He thinks about taking your nipple into his mouth, softly sucking, noticing your breath deepening, his other hand kneading your other breast.
Giorno gulps, his blood rushing down his body. He imagines moving further down, a trail of kisses along your waist, your stomach, along your thighs.
His breath hitches, feeling his dick straining against his pants. He wonders how your pussy would look, how sweet you would taste, as his tongue laps at your folds.
His chest burns with desire, his cheeks hot as he just can’t shake these thoughts off.
Reluctantly, he gives in to his urges. He tugs down his pants and boxers, his hand wrapping around his hardened cock.
His head rests against his chair. His eyes drifted shut, to visualize you more clearly. He sees you in front of him, your unbelievable eyes staring up at him, slightly widening as he sinks into your wet pussy, his cock being encompassed by your warm, tight walls. A sigh drops from his lips.
His thumb swipes across his slit, collecting the bead of pre-cum that has gathered there. Slowly, he starts to drag his hand along his length, pumping into his swollen tip, before repeating the gesture. With each pass, his grip grows a little bit tighter, and his fantasies a little dirtier.
He imagines it's your pussy that is wrapped so tightly around his cock, not his own hand. He pictures your every expression, your eyes darkening, your cheeks burning, your plush lips dropping open, releasing sweet moans and whimpers.
Giorno wants to see you tremble, wants to see you fall apart underneath him, because of him. He mimics the slow and deliberate thrust with his hand, before increasing his pace. A drawn out, breathless moan escapes his parted lips.
He yearns to see the surprised look in your eyes, the little frown on your face, as he throws your legs over his shoulders, thrusting even deeper into you.
He would fuck you until you quiver underneath him, until your voice is hoarse until you can’t see straight, until you’re a mess, gushing all over his cock. He would fuck you until you’re satisfied.
Only then he’ll let himself succumb. A groan rips past his heaving chest as he imagines your pussy clenching down on him greedily, urging him to spill every drop of his hot cum deep within you.
With that thought in his mind, with him envisioning your sloppy pussy fluttering around his dick, he cums. A groan drops from his lips, his fist squeezing a little tighter, concentrating on his swollen tip as his orgasm washes over him.
He envisions himself buried deep inside of you, his cock throbbing with each rope of hot cum he fills you up with.
Shallowly he rides out his high, his body twitching helplessly as his ropes of creamy cum drip down his thick shaft and onto his hand, imagining your pussy milking him dry.
He’s breathless, his chest heaving with pants, as he lets go of himself. His gaze drops onto his soiled hand.
Giorno wonders how such a sweet and tender thing as you could lead him to do such lascivious things.
©sweetdreamlandstuff
#jjba smut#jjba fanfic#jojo smut#jotaro smut#jotaro x reader#jotaro x you#bruno bucellati x reader#bruno bucciarati x reader#bruno smut#giorno giovanna x reader#giorno smut#giorno x reader#josuke smut#josuke x you#josuke x reader#rohan x reader#rohan smut
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Hello! This is the Frankenstein anon back with more praise and another prompt that you might like. Again you are amazing and everyone you come out with stuff, I weep for joy! Please continue what you are doing because it is absolute art✨
Okay onto the prompt. So lately tiktok has been putting onto this telenova drama called Hilda Furcão which is pretty much this priest and prostitute fall in love but due to societal pressures, cannot be together. The YEARNING in this show is amazing and I can’t help but think of Priest Konig in this situation. Imagine he falls in love with reader who works at a brothel but because he’s a churchly man, he’s fighting demons in his head (and down yonder) cuz he YEARNS for her but the lord says no🥴
Please keep doing what you’re doing and I’m constantly cheering you on with your work! ❤️
In the Arms of Flowers
content/warnings: 18+. minors do not interact. pining, lots of talk of religion/silly metaphors, fluff, ridiculous attempts at courtship from both, dark (if you squint), implied cyber stalking, violence/murder, minor character death, some angst, sexual violence (not done by König), König becomes horribly obsessed and reader is fine with it, virgin!König-> oral (both receiving) piv smut.
wc: 11k.
There’s a garden in the churchyard, one that’s always been, even before his vows were taken and the cassock was pulled around his shoulders.
It’s the very place that the arching den window in the clergy house faces out towards, and the very place that an angel descends from Heaven to stalk through night after night.
Even when the thunder clamors and rolls to light up the sky above, the pretty thing is there, kneeling amongst the blooming lilies. A listless sort of purity swallows over her, bathes her in the white of petals and the bright illumination of each bolt of lightning above, arcs a halo over her head like a proper mirage.
The whole town knows these doors remain open, but never does she even look toward the church or the home of holy men at all: only the flowers. The lilies and carnations seemed to be her favorite to haunt, weaving through the petals as they sway for her in breezes like whispers from the pouting lips of cherubim.
He’s prayed for this lost soul many times already; clutched the rosary between his fingers and whispered to the Lord to protect her, to heal whatever aches, to bring her wandering feet into the chapel one of these days. But as most lilies, this one’s beauty is gone away by mid-morning.
Tonight, he wills himself to bring her in for prayer and refuge from the coming rain. Its been a long time coming, and regrettably he’s hesitated at every other opportunity. Nothing’s changed, the scene was so commonplace even the others have commented on it prior.
Maybe he hallucinates her holiness; the halo has become made up of fallen petals now as they arch over the crown of her head where she’s found sprawled out amongst them. She raises herself to sit upright, dusts the dirt from her knees and offers a wary glance with each step he takes until his soles halt in soil that would soon be mire.
“I’m sorry. I’ll leave,” the angel breathes out with her eyes darting from his collar down to rest at the expanse of short blades of grass between them. “I don’t mean to cause you any trouble.”
She doesn’t meet the concern in his eyes, and König is no stranger to sin. To the shame and grief that he’s absolved from far worse than her in the stuffy wooden confessional.
“You’re welcome to stay.” A silent prayer rests there in his breath — please stay, though even he wasn’t certain as to why there’s a demand stirring in the pit of his stomach for this woman clad in a dirtied white dress.
She smiles then, gazes right up at him in such a way that immediately sparks something misplaced, something tucked away beneath studying scripture and kneeling before the wooden altar. A sin of the flesh, a heated poker jabbing at both his heart and his loins.
“No, I’m okay,” she assures with a slight dip of her head, already taking steps back to dart away, back to whichever gilded little nest of baubles and starlight she took flight from. “I was just heading home.”
And that’s it. He doesn’t plead for her to come inside, the offer has been laid out already. It’s not his job to force a belief that one doesn’t want, only lend a kindness and a cushioned pew, advice for the lost and a choir for bleating lambs.
He bids her goodbye and walks back to the clergy house, ignoring the strange looks of his peers as they all prepare to bed down after a nightly prayer. It’s rare to smile here, when sacred words are passed from the wrinkled, cracked lips of his seniors. But König does smile, the grin is as bright as the seconds of white lighting up the sky in intervals as he silently thanks God for such a sweet vision amidst such darkness.
The fixation does not falter for the following three nights. She doesn’t return to the churchyard to whisper secrets to the blooms, but the angel weighs on his mind so heavily that König finds himself convinced that she must have been his calling, a soul that he would assuredly save.
His sermons now lack their passion. The parishioners come to him with weighty hearts and misery in their eyes, but bless him all the same, even when he’s distant. Away with the fairies, some would say. He can’t help but wonder when one such service rolls to a closing prayer if whoever conjured such words had also been in the presence of a seraph.
“Do you need prayer?,” one of his fellow priests asks as the flock trickles out, worry clear in the wrinkles laden beneath this eyes and the way his lips draw down before pressing thin. “You don’t seem to be sleeping well.”
And König regrets the words he speaks next, when he describes the woman from the flowers in detail greater than necessary: how her eyes seemed so soft, her smile fragile, and her body language more docile than that of even a lamb. He mentions the dirty dress, the way she seemed to be trying to escape something yet refused the shelter he offered.
The other priest nods and sighs, his eyes squeezing shut in thought, and though König has not feared a scolding since he abandoned home nearly two decades prior, the way the ordinarily calm priest seems so frustrated by this sends a swell of fluttering anxiety beneath his ribcage.
“The woman you describe is a temptress,” his elder explains coldly. His sharp, dark eyes rest on König’s face as though the disparity in their height does not exist at all. “Best to let her be, she does not want our help. Leave it alone.”
“Ja. Verstanden.”
The warning is enough to dull the buzzing in his chest, the mush that’s been made up of his head until he sees her again.
The bakery in town regularly makes donations of pastries and thick loaves of bread for church goingson. It isn’t regular that he’s been asked to pick them up; the eldest of the priests usually does so, some blood relation to the owners that König has never cared enough to ask about. The old man never did well in the summer months, though, far too frail now to bear the heat snaking over his pale skin and leaving burns.
With the mistake of rambling onward about this perturbing fascination still grating at his mind, he doesn’t hesitate to volunteer, to take the old truck and step away from the stained glass and crucifixes for a brief outing. A moment of respite.
There’s a complimentary mug of coffee presented across the expanse of the counter when the cashier greets him with a smile so broad it seems faked.
König’s fingers twitch when he grasps at the handle; the uncertainty was something he had sworn he would outgrow one day with God’s healing, but it never seemed to stray far from him. It rests over the back of his neck like a feeding vampire when he takes his first sip, one that burns his tongue and stings at his eyes when he notices the woman seated at a table in the corner.
It’s her: temptation and fate packaged up in a loose fitting sweater that covers the pulse in her neck and a short skirt.
She holds her phone, not the mug stationed before her, staring down at the thing with the most somber expression he’s ever seen on a lady before. She taps her thumbs at the screen, talking to someone, but there’s a loneliness in her expression apparent like the rust on the old truck parked outside.
Poor little thing.
She glances up when his staring is detected, confusion stripped bare upon her with a pinched brow and a slack jaw. Then, follows realization and she offers the same smile she did that night, some seventy or so hours prior.
“Morning, Father.”
There’s not a fractal within König that wants to make the sweet spirit uncomfortable, but each step he takes towards her table seems to make her shoulders tense. She knows that he knows, sees that sympathetic look in his eye and hates it.
Maybe even hates him for the divinity he wears in the sable cloth pulled over his shoulders.
That doesn’t stop his approach.
König sits across from her with shaking hands and a forced smile like the one the cashier wears, drops his mug onto the table and offers her his hand. Fingers bending to graze the palm as though beckoning a frightened animal when it’s he who feels most afraid.
The angel merely eyes him cautiously for a moment before she takes the cup into both of her hands and gives him a fragile huff, dismissing his attempt to pray for her soul. Again. Yet, the sting he feels is not from a lack of a starved savior complex being satisfied, only… that he has yet to touch her somehow. That sudden thought stifles him in full.
But angels are nothing if not merciful and loving; she picks up on his dejection and speaks again in his place.
“How are the carnations?”
“Hm?”
“The flowers in the garden… the red ones,” she elaborates with a soft laugh, hides it behind the rim of her cup when it’s raised for her to take a sip. Her mouth looks soft, compelling, and he’s staring again. “I like them the most.”
He knows he should stop this, that what’s become of an innocent meeting has left him feeling anything but. There’s a howling chasm in place of the heart of a worthy devotee. She’s nothing like the women who frequent the church — the only other women he sees. Brighter at best and alluring at the worst.
“I thought the lilies were your favorite…” It’s unsuited for a priest and a man so tall and broad to sound so breakable, but his voice only comes in an hurried breath, embarrassed and small.
She shakes her head, tousles her hair in the process. “I like all of them. The ones at your church grow prettiest.”
“I see…”
The woman gives him an expectant look, as if prompting him to speak more, before her phone chimes and the air seems to shift from tentative yet sweet to something vast and cold. She doesn’t seem eager to be interrupted in such a way, either; her expression falls from that subtle playfulness to something akin to a regretful acceptance.
She stands from her seat abruptly and takes a step towards the door. “I have something I need to take care of.”
God gives and takes away.
“I can bring you some,” he offers, winding in the too-small wooden chair to face her. Too late to reel in the flirtatious nature of such an offering, too late to bite his tongue and remember the vows he had taken. The burden upon his heart seems far more pressing than any words from an old book. “Carnations and lilies… some of the others, too.”
The woman almost seems shy when she glances over her shoulder and offers him the most imperceptible nod. “Yeah, sure… I’ll see you around.”
His angel leaves him to rot in thought at that lonely table, in this tiny bakery. He does not think to repent for the way his temperature and pulse spiked in her presence, for the way he takes her empty cup and stuffs it into one of the boxes of baked goods to collect later.
Riding back to the church is dreadful, because she’s already fastened to his heart like a ribbon on a pretty bouquet. He’ll ask the sisters from the cloister to clip flowers for him, tie them up in a lace that will leave her face warmed and lips pouting.
When the people in the church have their fill of sweets and bread, König tells a lie, maybe several.
He claims he doesn’t know why that innocuous porcelain thing is resting where food once had, doesn’t know why the baker would have stuffed that in there too. He takes it to his room and claims that he would return it come morning.
The bed has always felt far too small for him alone, but he pictures her there with him, sat upon his lap when he brings the cup up to his lips with his eyes closed.
It’s cold and hard, difficult to imagine it to be a kiss at all, but he pretends her lips are upon him, eager and willing. It takes only rolling his tongue back to flick over itself, envisioning it being her own, for him to feel his trousers grow too tight. He doesn’t touch himself. He can’t bear the thought of it, not with the cross staring down at him from the far wall.
And finally, regret comes.
Shame, too, because König is aware he’s become a bit of a creep; enchanting himself with second hand kisses whilst his angel takes another man to bed. A man undeserving, but… he could be. He was deserving enough to become a holy man, surely she could see he was worthy of her as well.
The bed is too small even when he curls into himself and pulls the blanket up passed his eyes. Sleep is too skittish to come for him, even when he prays in a whisper to be absolved of his lust.
The dreams are only filled with images of an angel trapped in a rose bush, the thorns sinking into her wings until blood is drawn, but still she smiles. She reaches toward him with shaky limbs, whispers something so dreadfully mournful he knows to his very soul that she is his purpose alone.
It’s what wakes him in a fit, compels him to venture out through the yard with a heart set on seeking guidance. There are moonbeams above and animal calls from the surrounding trees. All of God’s creations are in perfect, dreamy harmony.
Why couldn’t he be the same? Always the outsider in one way or another; always the sore thumb rather than the loving green. Desolation is an art, a skill he’s learned to hide back: clenched teeth to still a wrathful tongue and a layer of muscle to guard that wounded thing in his chest.
There is no better peace than the quiet of the church in the late hour. Moonlight through stained glass and empty, antique seats that would make the worldly whip out their phones to snap pictures in a heartbeat. The doors are always open, for the sinners and the devoted alike, though the confessional is rarely touched when there would be no saint awake set on absolving.
Perhaps that’s why he takes to the booth he needs to make himself smaller to fit into: one shoulder and one foot first, then the next set. He’s never cared for it, left it to the better and smaller. The sound just past the thin partition rattles him. It isn’t the creaking of wood below his feet, but something softer. A weak sniffle. A cry from the other side.
“I’ll leave in a moment,” comes a voice, broken from tears and so horribly sad that the usual script entirely fails him. He recognizes the voice, though a bit warbled now. The voice that would make the choir pause, an angel’s sweet tone.
“Wait… no. You can stay. I’m hiding, too.” A breathy laugh comes forced and misplaced. Priest or not, König has never been the best at consoling anyone, let alone one so far above him.
“I’m not hiding,” she tries to sound braver now. He can imagine her chin tilted forward and that sweet smile trying it’s damndest to paint its way across her face. “But… why are you?”
“Don’t know.”
“Who are you?” The crying seems to have ceased entirely for now. Clearly whatever seemed to ail her could be remedied by her own curiosity. A cute, unorthodox little thing.
“König.” It served well enough as a confirmation name when he could not settle on one of the saints. King of them all, one of the other saved men had said in jest. Ironic, now.
“I like your voice, König,” she murmurs, deliberately testing the pronunciation on her tongue in such an alluring way that a small shiver runs its way down his spine.
“Danke… and you?”
God forgive him, he doesn’t even try. Doesn’t try to bring shame or guilt, read her scripture or pray for her soul. He only listens in silence when she tells him her name, beautiful and charming as he had expected it to be. The woman then tells him of her work, of the motel she ventures to at night… the troubles with money and even vaguely, some of the men she suffers through. This had been a bad night. Strange how a singular hour could have broken someone down to such a desperation to open up, to grasp for what small comfort they could receive.
But she came for him.
She must have hoped to see him.
He thanks his god for that.
— — —
“I bought a phone.”
“I see that.” Her fingers graze over the stems of the flowers, cleanly cut by hands more patient and stable than König’s own.
The angel isn’t looking up at him, not this time. There isn’t even a smile on her face when she cradles the bouquet close to her chest, petting over it where she sits upon the motel bed wearing nothing but some strappy, barely-there lingerie. Pure white with pink lace over the cups of her bra where her breasts swell with each shaky intake of breath.
In this week apart, he’s kept the device hidden in a loose pocket and spent many a night scouring the seediest websites looking for a hint of a body that may belong to her in this very area. Only one seemed to match. The messages exchanged were about hours and pricing, establishing a location, and terms he didn’t quite understand. He didn’t harp on the small details, but finding her messages to be so rigid and dry did surprise him. There were no cute hearts or winking emojis, it all felt horribly transactional.
Priests don’t make a lot of money, it all goes back to the church, but he’s thieved enough from the offering bowls to have a night with her alone. As disheartening as the lack of flirtations seemed, he hoped not to squander whatever opportunity this outing proved to be.
The balaclava covering his face wasn’t purchased with the intention of making her nervous, only… shielding himself from curious stares. The whole town knows his face, his name, the words he speaks so resolutely to his flock. Just as well as they know of who she is, what she does.
Even this knitted shield couldn’t hide himself from her, though. The very moment he entered this drab, modestly decorated room with flowers in hand she had only looked further lost.
“You look very pretty,” he tries as he removes the mask and drops it to the floor, kneels just a hair from where her feet dangle from the bed. “I’m glad that I found you.”
“Thank you.”
The flowers are placed on the side table, petals falling down to the thin carpet below. A cascade of red like blood and white like doves feathers. Purity and a wound in one.
The poor thing looks scorned when she does give him a glance then, but she forces herself into a position that stokes a hellish, unnatural flame within him. Her thighs part as her hands rest on the cups of her bra, pushing the thin fabric down to reveal areola, her soft nipples, sights that he had never seen before.
“You shouldn’t even be here, König,” the lady warns when his gaze sweeps over the innocent flesh laid bare before him. The angel isn’t even wet. Her panties are pristine over her womanhood, and it dawns on him that… she wouldn’t risk what he was even for the generous donation he had given.
“I don’t want to ruin you.”
But she should. Crumble him into salt, cast him away with the wind. Should.
She sees something holy in him too… albeit, not in the way that he would like for her to.
He swallows hard as he rises to his feet and sits next to her. The hands that were so accustomed to being joined in prayer find her breasts now with tentative touches, a curious squeeze, until he wills himself to readjust the fabric and conceal her properly.
“Ja, but… I just wanted to visit you.”
“You don’t need to pay me just to see me.”
The tension in the room finally begins to dissolve. Not by much, but when she sighs something that sounds like amusement, the restless throbbing of his heart does begin to settle.
As much as he would like to take her like some beast in rut, lay some claim to her in bursts of white seed, he doesn’t even know where to begin. Each curve of her body looks as though it would feel like a miracle beneath his palm, under his tongue.
It’s just that nothing is going to happen, not here, not now that he’s brought a prostitute flowers and revealed who he was to her. She sees something pitiful, where he only sees someone to love.
He can’t tell her that he dreams of her, that he views her in the same way he views his god. That would only scare her away, lead her to believe he’s a lunatic rather than a man only just now having his first taste of love.
“Then could I see you every night? So that you don’t have to…” His head dips, because no matter how he tries he knows any word he says is foolish.
This isn’t something she’s doing because it is fun for her; it’s a job just like his own. Flesh or words spoken… did it even matter? And yet, König could feel a malicious, gnawing envy at the thought of a bolder man taking his place tomorrow evening. That man wouldn’t hesitate to peel away her pretty lingerie and fuck her, shove his tongue into her mouth while his cock sat between her legs as if it belonged there.
“König,” she sighs next to him, pityingly.
His jaw tenses as his fingers curl into his palms. The hopelessness of it all crashes down around him as though sung out from the loudest of the choir. He hardly notices when she presses her head against his shoulder, only realizes how close she’s come to him when her hand curls over one of his own.
“You’re the strangest man I’ve ever met.” It’s not a compliment but it feels like one when she laughs like that, airy and soft. “The sweetest one, too.”
He smells her perfume from this close, something scented like fruit or maybe maple, sap-sticky and saccharine. All of her flesh feels warm against the plain t-shirt he wears, a warmth he would give anything to dive into, but not without her explicit command. A powerful seraph in the form of one painfully cute, gentle lady. If anyone could see what he saw now, they too would forsake those holy books and eat from her open palm instead.
“I don’t know what to do,” he confesses, a peculiar bitterness hanging on his tongue.
“How about a walk?”
He pulls the balaclava over his face again when they make their way out into the quiet, darkened street. Hand in hand. It’s not from shame, but a necessity, perhaps, because his pale face has only flowered into a lasting pink since laying eyes upon her on that mattress, sprawled out and waiting. The blush only deepens with every squeeze she blesses him with, every hushed word spoken as she tells him about her favorite places.
She’s dressed in the same white dress they had initially met in, now clean of the dirt from flower beds. Somehow even more radiant at this close, too.
The churchyard and the clergy house are nothing in comparison to the way the rest of the town feels when the moon rises. It’s a world all their own, a place where no one looks at her as if she were a simple harlot, but a queen amongst chipping wood and tarmac. There’s even a skip in her step as she walks ahead of him, her hips swaying beneath her skirt. All because there’s no one here but she and her most loyal and only acolyte.
He wills himself out of her grasp when they cross the threshold into the cemetery. The darkness there is enough to pull him back to earth; thoughts of how easily swayed he’s been linger in the back of his mind. The want doesn’t even begin to reel back its claws, but the guilt does sink its pearly fangs in alongside it.
“I get it. You don’t want to be seen with me,” she says a small step away, drawing her hand up to her chest. It’s the saddest she’s ever looked, and he doesn’t have the words to further explain that he has no god damn idea what he’s doing: here, with her, in the midst of something that feels so normal even though it should not.
“Nein! That’s not—“
“You don’t want to touch me. You barely talk…”
Because the words don’t come easy. Because he’s never felt such an overbearing devotion to anyone, anything apart from what he prays to. How could she… this woman that shared in such loneliness with him not see him for what he was, not see him in the way that he sees her?
“You’re misunderstanding.”
“You just want to… to convert me, is that right?,” she hisses, sounding more shaken up than he had ever hoped to hear.
All hesitation had to be swallowed back.
There was no other option. He could feel her slipping away, a pain he wasn’t prepared to face.
God gives and takes away, but König refuses to let go.
His eyes narrow, his breath halts entirely, and he cups her face in his hands as gently as he can. The distance between them feels like miles as he lowers his head to kiss her through the knit barrier. It’s flighty and petrifying on his side… he feels cold sweat wet his brow when the warmth of her pulls through.
She could hit him, spit her curses like a proper witch, and he would only fall to her feet and kiss her heels. But… she does none of those things. Whatever pain was brewing here is ripped away with the night breeze.
Her hands peel away the balaclava, discard it somewhere into the tall grass where it wouldn’t be found, and she grants him his first, proper kiss.
With only the cracked headstones and cemetery angels watching, what once was tentative becomes a full indulgence. König samples from her mouth as though it weeps honey when the gentle peck graduates to a parting of lips. His hands run down the length of her sides as she grasps at his shirt, they pull her in close until her chest meets his own and two pairs of eyelids flutter.
She feels more heavenly than his imagination could have prepared him for, her tongue hotter and her sounds… the soft sighs and shaky murmurs of approval that fill him with both a maddening love and an urge to burn everything away if only it would keep her safe and near.
The world ceases to be entirely, cast down with Lucifer to the sulfur and smoke. Her lips remain parted when they break apart, a haze over her eyes reflecting the veil clouding his own irises.
Was a kiss really forsaking his vows? Was that really such a painful treachery? No… no it shouldn’t be. The issue remains that he can not see her as just some woman. Something as small as this could consume him entirely.
The night is spent with an abundance of those shared kisses when they return to the motel. Tentative touches, too. He’s never held a woman, not in the way he gets to hold her then. She presses tightly to him, her back to his chest with her hand keeping his own in place over her middle. She’s so soft, swans down plush and smooth as silk ribbon.
There is mint lingering on her breath each time she speaks. No talk of her work, only… she confesses how she had feared him so initially, how she worried that a holy man stepping into her life would only be further condemnation: an angel terrified by a devil that does not exist at all.
He knows he’s lost a part of himself here when he tells her he wishes to meet with her again, that if the church is no longer the place she fancies to walk, he’ll meet her amongst the dead again and again when the old clergymen sleep. Those promises he had reserved solely for God turn on themselves now, when he reveres the idol he shares this bed with.
Though her hips press back against his groin when his fingers crawl up to her sternum, and the desire strikes up within him, his cock remains untouched here. He doesn’t whisper a prayer for forgiveness into her hair when he grows hard, just tucks her in closer and smiles where his head rests atop her own.
It’s the closest to bliss he’s ever felt.
— — —
“You weren’t here for morning prayer.” The voice isn’t accusatory, just observant. The nightly prayers were missed too, though a reprieve is granted by way of those remaining unmentioned.
But the guilt does eat at König when he sees the concern in this man’s eyes, splinters at his very soul until he asks in a fragile voice if he can speak to the old priest in the confessional.
Everything here feels much too small and the booth is more or less the same. The wood closes in around him, bathes him in a blackness that even the glow of candlelight within these walls can not reach. The partition separating them does not help bolster courage, it only leaves him feeling more alone.
The clergyman listens in silence as König confesses that he has become weak. He does not mention the lady of the night, but there’s no need to at all: finding himself so captivated with a woman that he considered breaking every promise to the higher power was bad enough. He does not mention how he’s considered pleasuring himself, touching her too… only that they shared a night together embraced, counts the kisses that were exchanged with each digit of his hands.
There’s a pitying sigh from the other side before the man begins a lengthy prayer that König does join him in. With the “Amen” that follows, he’s told only to rid himself of those thoughts, to bury them with fasting and prayer. No more visits with this temptress, remain on the right path. The very, very simple things he must do to receive God’s forgiveness and favor once more.
“You are not a disappointment,” his elder reminds him with a small pat to his cheek and a smile. It’s more fatherly than the sparse affection he received from his own flesh and blood before coming here.
“Danke… thank you,” he breathes when his eyes bear the burden of tears.
God loves him and so do the sainted men.
But to never see her again would be worse than flagellation.
He chokes down the pain with more water when his stomach roars with hunger, hides the broken heart with smiles and prayer. Holy clothes feel heavier now. The money he stole to spend that night with her is returned to the collection pool in a week's time. The smartphone he had purchased is tossed out with the rest of the garbage in the bins. Even the cup is returned to the bakery after being rinsed in the sink.
Still not a part of him feels absolved from this torturous puppet show.
He thinks of her more than he ponders over his fear of Hell itself. God feels like an old memory as the days pass. He counts them in his daybook, an ‘X’ next to the dates he had gone without seeing her. Ten becomes twenty, and it becomes no less agonizing.
The prayers come easier, at least. He joins with his fellow men, kneels with his hands clasped before him, speaks such heartfelt words now that on more than one occasion he’s shared a healing tear or two with the other clergymen.
God is an old friend, yes, but that title is just a placeholder for the one his prayers are truly for. The little angel of the garden, the woman who has given him nothing at all but stole his heart all the same. Was she not the same as God from that aspect?
After a month, he’s finally given the privilege to stand before the altar and preach to the parishioners again. His sermon is directed by the other clergymen, a subtle admission of his own misdeeds as he guides the flock away from the sins of lust, of worldly pleasures that would steer them away from the right path.
Amidst the men and women crowding the pews sits a new face. She wears a hat, looking uncertain and skittish as a bunny amidst a pack of starved hounds beneath its curved brim. Her coat is tugged tightly around her where her hands grip to keep it closed and snug. No one is out to get her, not here, but there’s a purplish bruise on her neck. A sad stare trails up to meet his gaze when he stammers through the words of scripture.
Then, she smiles and his heart only feels full.
The sermon ends clumsily enough, but she waits for him in the center pew. He ensures the others have cleared out before he takes rigid steps toward her, where he sits a foot or so away on the bench; the feigned friendliness is only a front for the rapid beating of his heart and the way the blush upon his face paints up to his ears.
“I waited to walk with you… like you promised we would,” she says in place of a greeting. There’s no chiding in her tone, just curiosity. Gentle, like she’s speaking to a wounded bird, and perhaps that’s what he’s become: some big, ugly vulture. Holy in its love of everything from the sky to the rot down below.
“I’m sorry. I..,” he laments, grasping for an explanation that does not come.
“No, I understand. It’s alright, König.”
He knows he doesn’t deserve the gift of her redemption with how easily he turned away from her, from the blooming of… something. It was best not to use that word anymore.
“I just didn’t want to wait any longer. I missed you,” she huffs when the silence extends between them, breaks up the tension in the air but not what creeps over her own shoulders.
“Your bruise..” He wants to tell her of his sleepless nights, of how he pictures her in place of any old deity upon a throne in heaven, but settles for where his eyes linger on her neck.
No explanation is provided, but she lets him bring his fingers to it, ghost over where the purple melds to yellow in the shape of thick fingerprints. Add wrath to the ever growing list of his sins, because it’s all he feels amidst the envy and love.
His fingers dig into the plain back trousers when they rest upon his lap again, something foreign buzzes beneath his skin. The thought that any man would be brazen enough to lay hands upon his very own angel.. It’s unbelievable, unforgivable. His thoughts spiral so quickly it’s frightening. Timid things can become vicious, too, when backed into corners.
She manages to keep this growing storm in check when she stands and smooths her skirt, and offers to tidy up the church in an act of ‘repentance’.
The chores are simple and the sisters that linger far past service seem grateful to have her here as she takes up the broom and sweeps away at the dusty floor. They chatter away with her, take her hat and rest their hands over her shoulders when the cleaning winds to an end. His angel closes her eyes in prayer, doesn’t so much as open them to send him a knowing glance when they pray for her to find a good husband, someone who deserves such a lovely, godly woman.
She shares a meal with them while König keeps to himself with scripture in hand, mindlessly roving over the words even when his thoughts drift to the night of their first kiss.
He reasons that it’s only natural when she gives him such a display of acceptance too. It only solidifies what he knows already: this woman is no succubus— she has not crawled from the depths of Hell to drag him back with her, she’s only heavensent. An angel with a broken wing or a gaping wound somewhere… something to care for.
She’s encouraged to return by several fond voices. A few of the women even offer to walk her home, the daylight is dying and it’s dangerous for a lone lady out at night. The angel smiles at him then, sharing in the knowledge that she prefers the dark. Not the wicked things, but the peace and the beauty of the moon.
And she returns when he abstains from her.
She confides in him after each sermon that she does long to see him more often, but she likes the way he speaks of Mary Magdalene and the other women in scripture, pokes fun at the lilt to his voice when he notices her amidst the crowd of others. She says she likes him a lot before they part ways in the evenings, but she doesn’t tempt him with pouts or trailing fingers.
He thanks her for respecting his faith each time - despite being the one who crossed several boundaries initially. Though he keeps his hands to himself now, the looks he gives to her are pleading and soft. If she would pull him into a kiss now, he would let her have all of him. They could run away together, from the church, from her clients…
It’s on one of those cloudy Sundays that he does ask her if she’s stopped. He braves the look she gives him when his question comes as a hushed stutter. The comfort between them no longer feels tentative. It’s just there. Ever-present as the sky above.
“Well, you haven’t,” she whispers in response, propping her elbow up on the back of the pew. It’s as if she believes it could be so simple, but it’s not. Not for either of them.
The spiels of Heaven and Hell won’t reach her, so he doesn’t bother with those. She offers him an invitation with her words and the way she remains so open that it’s difficult not to take.
It’s been months since he touched her last and the love has only seemed to have grown. Strange. Perhaps he is as odd as she’s imagined him to be. There have been weddings in this very church, talks of long years of courtship, and even then what those men must have felt for their brides had to have paled in comparison to this. It had to.
“Tell me how to,” he breathes without any underlying thought. Saints don’t question their gods, they only serve them.
“You’re actually considering it…?”
“I might.”
The silence crowds around the bench while her fingers brush over the pages of a hymnal in repetition and his only inch closer to her clothed knee.
“You could meet me at the cemetery tonight… We could talk more there.”
“At night is probably not the best time.”
“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we?”
Friends don’t kiss. Friends don’t feel the way he feels now, or how he’s felt for the past few months. Platonic arrangements don’t require repentance. But, he bites his tongue and tilts his head back, lets it roll off the shoulder when his hand draws back to his lap. Another time.
Not where the Heavenly Father could see, if he were even watching any longer.
“… Tomorrow morning would be better.”
“Then I’ll come get you. Don’t you dare try and get out of it,” she chirps with the wildest glint of mirth alight in her eyes.
Stay.
If the church caught fire now and the rafters came to sink into the earth not a part of him would or could even care as long as she were just here. But he watches her go without a word of opposition, watches her nod toward the sisters standing out in the yard and clasp her hands in front of her, smiling to herself as though the world were made for just the two of them.
It stings during nightly prayer, and it burns when he lies in bed to wait for the morning. There are cicadas singing and footsteps on old wooden boards to remind him that he isn’t entirely alone, the scent of tobacco drifting from his window when another plaster saint hides beyond the veil of night to smoke. He doesn’t sleep, his eyes remain fixed upon the ceiling until the darkness of the room drifts to a dull gray with the sun’s slow rise.
And König does not wait for her to fetch him. Morning prayer dissolves into a mournful cry because there is no part of him that can fathom or interpret any of this. A trial should not feel like a blessing when he’s faced with it. God must be playing the stupidest game imaginable to test him with someone so lovable, so charming. Where the church leaves him feeling filthy with remorse, she purifies him with only a curl of her lips and starlight dancing in her eyes.
None of it is fair.
The guilt must be something obligatory, summoned up like puffs of dust from the floorboards. Worshiping idols is a sin, but it’s not the angel that feels like one, it’s the attention he pays to the cloud in his head that does. That’s the one that should go.
He grits through prayer with the other men, doesn’t chime in with unnecessary words of devotion this time. The coffee burns his tongue when he downs the mug and forgoes breakfast. There are dark rings beneath his eyes when he ventured to the washroom to brush his teeth, and there are whispers in the halls that the young priest must be either coming under a possession or God is preparing him for something. Something big and exciting. He ignores those and the stern glances from the little nuns in their robes, huffs something of a joke about a momentary sabbatical when he lumbers out of the walls of the church.
There are no new bruises this time, but König has the memory of the last ones stuck in his skull. A clear image of four small marks on the side of her neck, another on its opposite. Larger, more pronounced. Five marks from a hand that never belonged there. Kerosene and a match are what the thoughts running rampant in his head would look like to an outsider.
She tells him on the thin picnic blanket that she’s got a new client, that he gives her enough to where she doesn’t have to consider any others now. The man has a much stranger set of interests, ones she hadn’t delved into before him, but she’s merciful enough to withhold the details that would lead König to make the crucifixion seem a gentle affair.
She tells him because she wants him to be proud that it’s only one now. That she’s making some sort of progress for him. None of it is fair, and he knows without asking that she feels more akin to the way that he does than any of the holy men.
And still he can’t help but ask, “Do you love him?”
“Of course not,” comes her immediate response, and there’s a near imperceptible glare there, judging by the fire in her eyes. It’s cute… and he feels the world's ugliest fool for daring to ask for reassurance as though this relationship was any sort of normal. If it were even a relationship at all.
Their hands touch, reaching for the same flaky pastry in the basket she brought along and Heaven’s bells ring out in his ears when her gaze sweeps over him. Everything is sugared dough and right again. She offers him her lap in place of a pillow for his head when the clouds grow thick and gray above, feeds him from her own hand and runs her fingers across his face with the other.
“How did you get the sky in your eyes?,” she asks him, makes him blush so easily his heart stutters within his chest. He feels like a boy in her presence, and in a way, to her, maybe he even is just some inexperienced whelp nipping at her heels.
The angel does not judge, she softly rakes her nails behind his ear and neck until he shivers in her hold. His hair is next, a victim to her comfort as she tousles it between her fingers, strokes him like the smallest of kittens when he feels anything but.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he mutters, raising a hand to brush at her cheek. Warm as he expected, yet softer. There’s nothing wicked here, only a woman. A woman who loves him as he loves her.
“Your eyes are pretty… sad. I love them,” comes the sweet reply that reduces him to nothing but scattered feathers and a howling ache.
Did he even exist before now? Before her? This woman has filled him with such purpose, breathed new life into a stagnant soul. The church was a safe place for a man scorned by the rest of the world, but that blanket felt unnecessary now. He wanted to feel her hands move over him like this, smell the petals in her perfume, hear her voice speak to him, all of it. Forever.
“I think that I lose myself when I’m with you.”
“Does that hurt you?”
“Nein… I’m happier like this.” It’s the closest to a confession he can whisper.
And he returns to her, morning after morning König rushes through paying his dues to God and his men to return to her like this.
When the graveyard is silent and the dew still sticks to the blades of grass, her voice sounds sweeter somehow beneath the glow of the rising sun. The birds sing around them and often she pushes wildflowers into his hair, clasps her hands around his neck and teaches him to kiss.
Her tongue moves with grace, his is only a thing of greed. Each chaste peck is met with a hunger from somewhere so foggy and forgotten it never had a home at all, not before now. The angel needn’t show him where to rest his hands, they pry at every part of her: gentle brushes against her cheek and neck, kneading at her shoulders, further, further until he does finally starve off any lingering thought of what is good or evil to explore the curve of her lower back.
Most of the time words come in afterthought, once lips are wet and plush from this gentle devouring, after she steels herself from running her hands any further down than his stomach. He tells her in truth that he prays to her, not for. Not anymore.
The shadows cast from the aspens keep them tucked far away from sight, from God and his people alike. A temple for two without four walls to close them in. The only place on this earth that he’s ever found himself in perfect solace.
“I want to try something,” she breathes just when he’s prepared himself to leave. The tree at his back, knees parted, where she remains sat across from him. There’s nervousness there, not the fretful way she looks after a long night, nor the way she looked to him upon their first meetings. “Do you trust me?”
“Ja… more than anyone,” he reassures in a soft tone of voice, tipping her chin up with the tips of two fingers to further accentuate it. Her beauty and her uncertainty always strike a chord within him, a fire that never dwindles. When her eyes search his own, his breath catches.
He doesn’t say a word when she peels away the robes from the front of his trousers. Her hands linger on at the waistband for a moment, takes enough time to offer the gentlest peck to the side of his neck before continuing. It’s another first, being exposed to a woman like this when she lowers the band and has him shimmy backward to free his cock from his pants. Soft with shame or embarrassment, a concoction of other things he could not name, but the moment she looks up at him with pure delight he feels himself grow stiff.
“Wow… You’ve got a perfect cock,” she assesses with a laugh, finger running up the length of it as it twitches to life under her touch.
Scheisse.
He strokes her cheek with reverence as she bends down before him, watching him carefully through her eyelashes. Her warm breath drifts over his manhood and he’s already horribly aware that this would not last long. Another lesson, like the kisses, maybe. She could mold him any way that she likes and he would be pleased to play the role of her Adam.
The tongue isn’t what he anticipated. She flattens it against the tip, breathes a laugh when a keening whine is pulled from his throat. To see such an ugly, vulgar thing pressed to the beautiful mouth he’s kissed a dozen times now. It feels wrong. There’s no hesitation when her lips wrap around him. And then all of it— everything is just right. Every moment spent in this hazy, loving glow with her is right. If Hell were to come from this, then let it.
He can’t tear his eyes away from her, can’t bring himself to speak when he feels the way his cock hits the back of her throat, feels her swallow around him and make such a pleased noise as she wraps her fingers around the expanse she can not take.
Its pitiful, the way he must look: mouth agape, eyes lidded and heavy… He brings a hand to her hair, and runs his fingers through it as if she isn’t letting him fuck her mouth, but rather in the midst of something far holier, softer. Sacrilegious or divine. If God we’re watching, let him.
She pulls back a little, an obscene, wet sound in answer when her mouth is drawn back enough to merely press a kiss the tip, puffy lips glossy with drool. “Is this okay…? Not too much?”
“You are so pretty… it feels… just keep going.” His voice no longer possesses any feigned confidence, it begs like a wounded thing, chanting, “Bitte. Please…”
His hips tilt up when she parts her lips again, all trepidation be damned. This is something, something he’s aches for and never had the chance to feel. All of the ache, the longing to be diminished, to unite with the angel who fled Heaven for him. The cock pushes at her open mouth, smears thick beads of precum over her cheek, before she takes him in again with a delighted, muffled sound. Her soft mouth, the tongue that thoroughly laps at his shaft and follows her movements to wrap and suck at the head. Otherworldly, and… unfathomably bittersweet.
Her lips suction around him, the movements of her wrist only increasing, and with the second roll of his hips he feels his stomach begin to tense as pure heat rolls its way through him. A gentle coursing becomes a blinding inferno in mere seconds, and regrettably, instinctively, that hand so gently combing through her hair comes to snare it instead and force her down further.
His soft grunts and low pleading morph to something choked and almost agonized. It’s the purest rapture, a pleasure so absolute his eyes prick as he bows lower to cover over her as she swallows his devotion by mouth. The angel pants breathlessly when she pulls away with saliva and semen still stringing them together, cleansed by his thumb tracing over her lips, replaced so swiftly by his own mouth. The kiss is so chaste it feels misplaced here, but she nuzzles against him in this comedown from ecstasy, doesn’t even chastise how he lasted a mere two minutes.
And he vows, vows in the sweetness of her comfort and love that no one else will ever have this again.
— — —
Abstaining from meals during a fast is a struggle in and of itself; abstaining from her is some long-forgotten circle of Hell.
It’s not avoidance, but a necessity.
To think that his first sexual encounter would provoke days of concern, a wistful daydream about a future he never would have thought to have had otherwise. There was a desperate, starving desire to repent when he first arrived home after that, but nothing that a bottle of communion wine and a cold shower could not wash away. Repentance has lost its merit to him.
And after seven days, he’s perfectly aware of what he must do. To absolve them both from things where atonement seems far from a necessity at all. He folds his holy robes and leaves them on the bed in the room too small, set neatly next to his Bible. The rosary was the one thing that König could not bear to part with. The beads, red and shimmery, were chosen and strung together with him in mind. It’s slipped into the pocket of his jeans after the plain, black t-shirt is pulled over his head.
There’s a hammer in his gloved hand, and he doesn’t recall where he found it. Lying with its head rusted in the churchyard, perhaps half buried beneath the soil. Some of the other clergymen are talented at fixing things, but König’s never been very good with that. His first rosary was broken with a careless slip of his fingers, and he’s shattered more porcelain than he could count on accident.
Even communion wine can be a bit too strong, sometimes. Or maybe that’s only when the bottle’s been entirely downed. He’ll blame one of his betters when the stock is counted and one turns up missing, if they bother to come seek him out again at all.
The motel is dead at this hour, so late into the night. The few normal visitors have already been accounted for with watchful eyes, and the angel waits in one of the rooms on the second floor. He imagines the laces on her lingerie, the healing bruises on her throat, and that sweet expression upon her face. Or maybe that one was reserved solely for him. He prayed… no, he hoped so.
After tonight, there would be no more mercies for him. Or perhaps there would be an abundance, blessings from the vultures and the wolves and the maggots he would feed. New gods that were still far lesser than the angel who suffers men in sheets, but only looks to him with love.
And he doesn’t have to wait long, because the demon finds his way here with haste. Does he come here every night looking as proud as he does now? His attire even resonates with death, black with those white details, a costume that seems so fitting for one about to meet the very face he wears.
Killing someone isn’t so easy. Cain murdered his brother with a rock, described in such loose detail that one would think a playful throw led to Abel’s end. But it’s not so, not when the victim is hellbent on living.
The demon is smaller, but strong. He’s been in situations like this before, doesn’t have to spit the words to tell König so. They’re felt with each blow, with the sharp edge of the knife this bastard manages to dig into his side. Just barely, before it’s jerked out of his hand and thrown several paces away. The skittering across the tarmac is enough to chant doom.
There’s blood. More with the first strike of the hammer. It seemed so much easier in thought rather than practice. In his imaginings, the head would split with the first fall like an overripe apple, crumple in and the breath would leave the demon in an instant. Instead, it’s dozens. Blow after blow while the smaller man struggles below him.
A strange catharsis comes over him when his soul grows murky, when his hands are slick and the struggle comes to an abrupt end. The sobering only comes when he’s spent an hour driving down the most forested roads to find a place to dump the body. There’s no tact to it, laying a man to rest in shrubbery and dirt. With a head so collapsed it’s hard to think of this as a man at all. A corpse, something no longer simply human.
König does not pray for him when he rests the hammer in the deceased’s hands. Does not offer it more than a passing thought when he peels away back toward home. The deed is done and he’s free of those horrid burdens tainting his heart, keeping him held back on a short leash to divinity.
Like fate, she’s found out in the garden again after the bloodied shirt and stained gloves are discarded. The wound is patched with what he could find available, a hastily tied strip of gauze covers his side. A week or so at best until the gash would heal into an ugly, jagged scar. It seemed even a bastard devil’s blade couldn't be sharp enough to fell a Goliath when he’s caught by surprise and horny.
He feigns merely emptying the garbage into an outside bin, plays off the sting of the gash with a humble, lumbering gait. She beams up at him through lines of tears running down the sides of her face like small, silver streams beneath the darkened sky above.
He’s not a saint anymore, no… a guardian angel. The archangel Michael with his sword set ablaze and divinity scrawled into every scale of his chest plate. Something holy and glowing, unsullied and beautiful.
Like her.
“You’re crying…”
“Sorry… bad night. Client just ghosted me.”
No. This was good, couldn’t she see that? All the sleepless nights, the prayer and the constant, overwhelming longing. Everything he had suffered for her, and still she only comes to him with the thought of that horrible thing in mind.
“He’s dead.” Maybe it was just the fear of a loss of money. He had enough saved up someplace, and the collection pool would be beneficial enough to pivot them towards a new life. No church. No lonely motel. He had to test it, give her a trial and hope that she did not simply break.
The look that crosses her face is one of confusion… Then comes a strange twist of relief. Her mouth falls slightly agape and her arms squeeze slightly around his middle.
“We just spoke a few hours ago. How…?” Finally, suspicion.
Maybe he’s too drunk on playing God now to care, to realize this isn’t how a good man would have handled things. The only thing that holds any weight, that resonated with him any at all is the thought that he loves her, that he will protect her until his dying breath, pray at her feet and anything else she might ask.
That’s what pulls him to press her down against the bed of the truck, to kiss her with every lesson she’s blessed him with in mind. Tongue and teeth, fire and spit, she accepts all of it. She doesn’t beg him for an answer: she’s seen the worst of men, taken cocks far less deserving. Her hands find his hair as they drift away here, gives the strands a sharp tug to usher him closer, roll her tongue against his own.
The sheer tights she wears beneath her skirt are ripped at the seam between her legs by large hands, panties pushed to the side before she finally presses against the broad chest against her to gain some space. Her breath is shallow, face warmed and hair a mess, still the loveliest thing he’s ever laid his eyes upon.
“Are you afraid?” He tilts his head to the side, curious, as if there were no reason for her deny him of this now after he had just *killed for her*. After he forsook what once was all he knew all for her. He would do it again without question, with no gain at all, but the sting of rejection was not something he could entirely choke back.
But his angel never runs out of mercies, it seems.
“No… just give me a second.”
She slips her hand down between her parted legs, demonstrates for him just how to prepare a woman. He watches, mesmerized, as she circles the bud above her slit, dips her finger downward to spread wetness along her flesh. Dew over petals. A finger slips inside of her, and all at once is shoved aside.
“Let me,” he pleads, already pressing both hands to her inner thighs, tilting her hips upward as his head sinks between them.
“You don’t have to,” she whispers, but grants him his wish with feverish nods that betray her words, allows him to kiss her sex as he shifts himself into a better position.
There’s nothing to go off of but her sounds, the cries of pleasure when his tongue lolls out to lick at the nub where most of her reactions stem from. He mutters against her about her taste, something so ethereal he could not even begin to place. Her scent envelopes him in full, and he’s never felt closer to anything prior. She allows his clumsy licking, moans louder for him when he can’t stifle his own groaning. The pants are too tight around him, and patience is another virtue he finds that he lacks.
She doesn’t reach some fantastical height of pleasure when he presses a finger into her cunt, but her body seems to fit even that like a glove, squeezing around him as he lazily circles her bud with his tongue. She doesn’t come, but she tugs him by the hair to usher him back into another kiss, hands roving down his abdomen to free his manhood from the barriers of fabric. And finally… finally he’s granted entrance to Heaven.
The first thrust leaves him spiraling, lost into a world of silk and honey. And the angel does not give him any time to recover, she writhes beneath him, shifting her hips to pull him in deeper, muffles each whine and groan from his lips with her tongue hungrily lapping over his own.
He’s thought about having a woman many times, but never imagined it could feel this good. To be so complete, every woe or fear cast aside in the act of mindless pleasure.
He doesn’t know where to put his hands, to keep his eyes shut or gaze down at her and cease this assault on his mouth to tell her that he loves her, that she feels like pure fucking paradise and he’s already on the verge of coming undone. He settles for moving, dragging himself in and out of her in slow movements, turning his face away to bite down on her shoulder when the feeling of her walls cinching him like a vise threatens to spur him into finishing on the spot.
“That’s just… god… you’re good at this,” she gasps when a hand is sunk between their bodies, flicking at her clit as he spears her open. Her hands find his back, raking her fingernails down past his shoulder blades. It’s agonizing, trying to fight back the urge to breed her full, watch his come spill out from her perfect cunt until he finds himself hard again. The very thought makes him gasp, grind himself deeper inside of her as her nails dig into his back.
“Mein… this is… you understand…,” he’s babbling, hardly coherent, and she only seems to accept it. The angel chants her agreement amidst the beginning of her rapture.
She cries out for him when she comes, her sex pulsing around him as she shivers that all restraint is immediately lost. She hugs him so tightly, squirms as she hisses a curse into his ear.
It’s a miracle he’s even lasted this long. He halts his pace for a mere second to prop himself up, gaze down at her in absolute reverence before that fire swallows him whole. It’s unceremonious when he comes: a growl and a wail as he buries he face into her neck and pumps every last drop of his seed into her pussy.
He doesn’t want to pull out, doesn’t want to leave such a complete embrace. The world has already ended for him, a long time ago on the very night they met. There’s no need to drag out their ruin with whatever else occurs when she’s out of his grasp.
She strokes over the marks she’s made, gentle, tickling touches of her fingertips and shy giggles when their eyes meet again.
“I thought I would never get to do this with you,” she admits, quiet when her hands drift to cup his jaw instead. “You’re perfect, you know that…?”
He wants to cry, wants to fuck all of his woes away, kneel before her and beg that she find a place where they can never be apart. Steal her away to some cabin up in the Alps, where flowers grow in thick patches on the hillsides, a wild garden of her very own.
“… You should stay with me,” he huffs into her ear, fingers dimpling the flesh of her hips as he tries desperately to force himself closer to her.
“You can’t mean the church,” she giggles. “So where should we go?”
“We can figure that out in the morning, hm?”
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𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑊ℎ𝑦 𝑀𝑦 𝐷𝑟𝑎𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑...
Inspiration: this, this, this, this,
A/N: As per request, and a high demand, this is like a part of the Creator!Reader AU drabble I wrote some time ago! Though there is a mention about a gender in the end, since the Creator/God of Teyvat could change genders/ forms if wanted, I didn't see a problem with that one!
A/N: PLEASE SEND ME SOME NEUVI NEUVI FLUFF REQUESTS ( especially papa ones with melusines) I'M BEGGING! THIS ONE TOOK A HUGE TOLL ON ME LOL AND BECAUSE MY MIND ONLY WORKS FOR ANGST AND LORE THESE DAYS, I NEED A DISTRACTION-
Warnings: THIS SHIT IS LONG, LIKE VERY! Hints, not so much now, of Neuvi Neuvi being the Hydro Dragon and the Sovereign, hints of past abuse and violence but not detailed, reader being a simp in general
Part1
Ever since coming to the nation of justice, and obviusly water, you had never felt such immense comfort and safety at the mostly silent city, with water sounds mixing. After running away from almost all the nations with the exception of Sumeru, Snezhnaya, Natlan and of course Fontaine whose eyes weren't blinded by anything and rather listened to you, sheltered you and gave you friends after being on the wild all on your own...
The calm and safety you felt was weird.
After all, it wasn't you who asked to be the Creator of this game you loved dearly. You were just a simple, non-important human in your world. Going to school and work, study, try to stay alive, make food for yourself, sleep and repeat the cycle...
And suddenly, you were the "Beloved" Creator of all these characters? But they still hunted you down and there were a few who supported you?? And now you were playing with the tiny and adorable melusines by the pond while being married with the one you loved?
You would have said bullshit on Earth but now, as you giggled at the many melusines fighting for your attention while one of the much younger ones laid between your arms with short and warm breaths fanning your neck softly...
Maybe all the trouble you went through was worth it.
"I want to braid Their Grace's hair!"
"You already did it yesterday, and the day before that too!"
You watched as Puca and Serene bickered together, both of them pushing the other away behind you and tugging on your hair rather harshly without realizing from time to time. You already knew that wincing would make things worse, since they were all so fond of you that they hated the idea of inflicting you with any kind of pain and would wail which would later leave you with hundreds of melusines to comfort with an awkward smile.
It had gotten bad especially after the eldest of them told how "bad things" happened to you... but now You had them and their "papa" and were happier than ever!
"Their Grace will have a date with Monsieur Neuvillette~ So, let's stop bickering and make Them even more pretty!" A fierce blush took over your whole face, warming your cheeks cutely as the younger melusines cooed and giggled, holding onto their hands together and jumping up and down excitedly at the fact that their "papa" and "Mama/dad" were going out like the spouses they saw on the streets of Fontaine. You didn't... exactly have a gender, and considering you appeared in different forms for safety to other nations, especially Inazuma and Liyue who had been... rather passionate about killing you, you would often come back to the loving embrace of your husband and daughters tired, completely forgetting about your form which was different than the one they always saw you.
It still made you stiffle laughs whenever you remembered the way the melusines gasped and looked at you and their papa snuggled under a blanket so lovingly like he always did with their mama/dad...
Poor things cried their eyes out because they thought Neuvilette was being unfaithful to you and didn't stop until they truly saw you and ran at you, never leaving your side at all and gave their papa nasty eyes... which made him also cry because he never thought of such thing happening, not when even his eyes wouldn't stray from your glowing body as you slotted your fingers with his, swinging your joined hands proudly while walking around the city with him next to you as he blushed and softly looked at you.
Not when his unbeating heart, after you disappeared, started to beat once again at your fragile form in the courtroom and he put his coat over your shivering form, eyes glossy with gratefulnes as you accepted it with shaky hands and a silent and meek thank you that pierced and squeezed his chest.
Not when he finally found his mate, his true love, though it was the Creator he always held affection for and waited for millenias for you to return back once more to grace him with your light.
No one could deny the obvious feelings between you and the Chief Justice who wouldn't be too far away from you ever since you entered the city and looked at him with fearful eyes, even when you two weren't courting yet alone being married. No one blamed you for your obvious fear, they caught wind of what happened and had a brief idea after all. So, instead, they acted kind to you and offered to tell you about themselves and the city after you begged them (which felt wrong because weren't they supposed to be on their knees for you?) to call you by your name and act normal. Through time, they saw how happier and more expressive you had become at the way they acted with you, often seeing you play with the children or help out Lady Furina with meetings, or just sit with them for a lunch as they talked about the latest gossips or trends...
Such as how the other nations were suffering because of the lack of your presence, and how theirs were flourishing even more as the days passed.
Even the people knew how jealous the other nations and their people were that Fontaine was the city you favoured, that their archon was your friend and the next important person, their Chief Justice, was your spouse. And people of Fontaine was extremely smug and happy about it, happier than they had ever been, at the fact that the Creator wanted to share Their eternity with their Chief Justice, that he was the one who held your affection and love. Neuvilette seemed like he never cared about what people said about him, at least about the Chief Justice part of him. He judged according to the laws, which he soon realized was flawed, and did his reports religiously. To the outside, he was a stern and cold man who could never be tender for another, love them as if he was holding a fragile glass, and wanting to protect his love, their love and smile and everything that made him love that one special person.
Yet, the truth couldn't be further from the truth.
Yes, that unloving and cold part of him was a side he often used to not show how affected he would become after every harsh comment... But only those closest to him, melusines and now you, knew it to be completely fake and that Neuvilette always wanted to do his damn best and even more for his people.
You didn't understand why everyone seemed to make you stay away from him when you first started to wander in the city with him not so behind you. He insisted that he would accompany you (after you begged him to go out for fresh air or else you were about to explode out of boredom and he caved in at your puppy eyes) and introduce the city, knowing very well that the people could be rather instantaneous , rash at the first sight of you and you didn't like sudden moves after the events obviously, so he told you that he would be close enough to intervene if something were to happen and enjoy yourself as much as you can.
But there was one thing he didn't consider that day, one thing you didn't have an idea happening which made you whiplash so suddenly that the melusine you held hands with shrunk and thightened her hand over yours, scared: The obvious distaste of the sweet Melusines, even now, and the man that had been nothing but sweet to you, taking care of you at rough nights and whispered sweet things to you.
Going as far as letting you sleep on the couch in his office after much bickering, him insisting that a divine being such as yourself only deserved silk and the softest of beds Teyvat could offer and you whining out that it was him that you needed as you cuddled up to his long coat with a sweet and sleepy smile.
But you didn't like how people were so against him, so hellbent on making you realize that he wasn't a good choice, that he was made out of cold stone and nothing else.
That he didn't know how to even love.
But...
They didn't know how it was you that he had let himself go, to enjoy the simple side of life.
They didn't know how you would catch him staring at and feeding the otters, which you often affectionately called "mini Neuvi", with the softest and most adorable face he ever had and then flush when you caught him in the middle of his petting session and joined him, crouching down next to him.
They didn't know how his heart pounded at being close to you, witnessing your love and kindness to everything and everyone around you from being close to you and how you often held onto his arm thight as you both strolled around with flushed cheeks, under the teasing eyes of the elders of Fontaine who commented how cute you both looked together and how your eyes shone brighter.
He really wanted to know if it was because of the comments or your happiness for being treated like normal bir he didn't know he would learn it soon...
Or, they didn't know how he wished to wrap his arm around your waist and hold you against himself protectively, as if everyone outside was a life-threatening danger to you.
They didn't know the way he silently loomed close to you but still remained in the shadows, just enough to watch you have fun, and smile wide with his own little one tugging on his lips.
They didn't know that he enjoyed it the most whenever you brought whatever you baked, with one of the melusines behind you walking happily, and brought it to him as a thanks for all he did for you. No one has ever done this much for me, you would say and he had to refrain from taking your chin between his gloved hand and softly wipe that frown away. For you, anything he wanted to say many times but always refrained from doing so but as he gazed at your eyes at the time...
He knew you already knew about what he wanted to say, what he wanted to do as your eyes locked in his amethyst eyes and pink lips, chest to chest and standing so close to each other that your breaths mingled together as you both just... Stared at each other.
And they didn't know how he wanted to kiss you, how much you wanted to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him to yourself while messing with his perfectly-done hair... To bask in the happiness only he was able to give you, surrounded by perhaps otters and your sweet "daughters" and just... knowing each other.
They didn't know him like you did.
And they didn't know the sweet melusines like you did either.
And... Well, perhaps, they also didn't know how protective you were of them and the wrath of you was a power to beckon with when challenged.
"Born from Calamity, you say. He brings only devestation and pain to those close to him, you say..." your voice, calm yet still had a hidden threatening tone, was carried by the Wind on your command and towards right into their ears. The group that was talking shit behind your family all stiffened up, knowing that they had the attention of their Creator in the worst way possible.
Little Puca's hand shook between yours, which made your anger skyrocket even more, her eyes scaredly looking around as she shuffled closer to your long clothes and held on for dear life. She knew about the dislike from humans through her older sisters but... she didn't think it was this bad even now after many years.
What had they done wrong, except working hard and waiting for the people's approval?
"Y-Your Grace, w-we didn't mean to-"
"You are telling me that you didn't mean to say my daughters couldn't be trusted because you don't know where they are from, and since my husband loves them so much, in extension, he also couldn't be trusted?" You pushed whatever words this... woman had to say right back into her throat as she shivered from terror at your cold, glimmering eyes that held the universe in them pierced through her harshly and she had nothing else to do except bow in shame and hope to be forgiven...
Wrong move though.
"Do you think of me... perhaps, stupid?" You sneered angrily, stopping in the middle of your sentence in fake thinking with a curious finger tapping your chin as absolute and undeniable horror filled the people.
"N-Never, Your Grace-!"
"Then how dare you lie to my face and talk shit about my family? Who do you think you are?" Your voice rang menacingly all over Fontaine, all the water and even Wind stopping, as those who had been nothing but rude to the melusines cowered in fear and those who always stood on their side smiled proudly. You already heard enough, knew that you had been silent for so long which ended up with your family being hurt far longer than they should have and now, the time was over.
With slow and silent steps, you stood before the woman who lifted her head hopefully to look at your face but soon horror found her at the blank face you gave her with your contrasting soft hands holding her face.
"I have been patient, for you all to realize your mistake and fix it but if this goes on any longer... If I need to inflict fear so that your filthy words wouldn't taint my family... Then so be it."
With your final words, you picked Puca up and craddled her between your arms lovingly, whispering sweet soothing words as you told her how papa must have been worried and that you two had to go and meet with the rest as soon as possible.
As the little melusine rambled about whatever picked her interest that day, the fright from before long forgotten as you listened attentively but soon frowned when you felt the cooling sensation of... water, over your face.
And lo behold, soon after your brief talk, it started to rain softly.
You really hoped that your husband didn't hear the commotion, knowing how much it would hurt his gentle heart to hear the people he swore to protect still treat him and his daughters badly. You knew how... Carole's sacrifice affected him, how he started to not trust people and turn his emotions off because of how painful it was for him.
He was the one who told you this, after another nightmare where he couldn't do anything to protect his family, and sobbed on your chest with his beautiful hair all messy, eyes swollen and red as he begged you to forgive him, still affected by the gruesome sight of your body and his hands covered in large gushes and golden blood. And even then, he was the most beautiful sight you ever laid your eyes on.
But, to your horror, he did hear it.
But cried for an entire different reason.
And not long after, it started to rain... which made you think back to all the times it poured, You stared at the sky with a lovesick smile over your face as you stared at Neuvillette's slightly-shaking back, who thought he hid himself well behind the stone sculpture of yours, already planning to go to his office later to comfort your big baby.
Still thinking back to all the times when your sensitive, lovely and gentle husband who appeared to be cold but was actually the cutest man/dragon alive, cried and made it rain... Feared that he ruined everything once again but you begged to differ.
To you, it was the most beautiful show of his own feelings.
1.He saw a cute otter
"Hello, mini Neuvi! How are you?"
This time of the day was perhaps, the most funny and relaxing one for you. Because, after so much work and paper and also Furina's drama, you really needed to blow off some steam and just enjoy your life. Fontaine was a beautiful nation, but sometimes... You just wished to see other ones from more of a close eye, especially Sumeru.
It has been such a long time that you were starting to forget the beautiful greenery there, and how much you enjoyed hanging out with the others who became your friends quickly.
You definetly didn't miss Cyno's dad-jokes and how the others stared in shock when you snorted at one of them-
But, you were happy with where your life was right now. You were safe, happy, had the cutest animals around you, and then there were the sweet and ever-helpfull melusines who were always at your back and call with pretty much anything and...
There was Neuvillette.
You giddily laughed and put your hair behind your ear shyly, even the mention of the usually composed and calm yet so easily flustered man made your heart burst and dance. You wanted to believe that there was something sparking between you two after the many times you hung out with him, and the many times everyone told you that no, Chief Justice never just "hung out" with people and that this was a first.
Probably what sealed the deal for you, and pretty much everyone, was the way he... very obviously had softened gradually.
It was the subtle way he made sure you were okay, always buying a nicely done bouqet on his way for you and slowly, starting to smile more. People, before you came along, often was scared to talk to him because of his "brooding personality". They thought he was someone hard to talk with, which at first was true. The usually expressionless face he always wore made people stay away, and loose the best kind of companionship they could have had by not trying harder to understand him.
Because, deep down, you saw the longing eyes he gave to the couples in Fontaine or the best friends hanging out together happily. He really wanted to have that too, he just didn't know how and therefore, he was seen as heartless and uncaring for any attachments when it was the most wrong thing he ever could be.
Not that you had any complaints, even if that treatment sometimes saddened you, you were happy that it was you he chose to show that side of him even if it was as a result of... a traumatic experience.
"I brought you, and your whole family the most yummy snacks ever! Made by none other than me!" You shook your head at the thoughts to focus on the cute otters who were swimming where you were simply floating, making excited sounds at seeing both their creator and "mama/dada".
A/N: I just want a horde of melusines and otters in my home, is that too much to ask? 🥲🥹
Giggling at their enthusiasm, you happily followed them around for almost all the afternoon and you couldn't lie, it was the best swimming you ever had, with a worry-free mind and heart.
That was, of course, until you felt a panicked presence close before warm hands (contrasting to the cool water around you) circled your middle and a relieved breath on your ear made goosebumps appear on your skin.
"I was worried, Your Grace... No one has seen you today." Your body relaxed visibly at his rich and soothing voice and slacked back ahainst his chest, his arms thightening around your waist without noticing and inhaling your shampoo deeply with a content smile.
"Oh... Yes, I needed some alone time to myself. I'm sorry if I worried you so much." You sheepishly looked at him while still in his soft embrace and he looked down slightly at your face, crinkled with happiness and then, smiled.
Which, obviously, made your heart stop for a second as you internally gushed at how handsome he was.
"It's okay... I know you can protect yourself. Though I wonder what had taken your attention this much?"
An excited gasp left you when you remembered your children and looked around to see them behind a rock, peeking from the corner to look at you fearfully, unsure if it was safe for them to come out again.
"I came to meet my children! Come on, darlings! He is a friend, you are safe with him!"
Neuvillette widened his eyes at your form who was immediately swarmed with the otters, all clinging onto you as soon as the words left your mouth and he couldn't will his heart to stop pounding his chest at the blissful and motherly smile over your face.
It had been some time that he finally admit his feelings for you, after having a long lecture from Furina and Navia herselves about love, feelings and how a romantic relationship works. They literally forced him to look deeper into his heart and just feel what he feels when he is around you, what he wants to do and wished to happen etc. They already had enough of their favourite ship not sailing yet, Furina just wanted some action and Navia... well, she knew he was a good man now and didn't deserve to be lonely all the time so she was eager to help.
Safe to say, even they were shocked and teary-eyed at how sensitive, sensual and romantic he was when it came to you.
And those feelings only intensified with each passing day, after he was more aware of his body's, the dragon in him's reactions to you and what you did.
And right now, they were purring contently and proudly at watching you interact with your children.
Even the thought of such thing excited him and he had to cough to mask his embrassment when you two... weren't an "item" as Lynette and Lyney used to say while giggling just like any other teenager in Fontaine.
He didn't know what "being an item" meant, this was teenagers after all and their language was weird.
"Come here, mini Neuvi! I know you want this yummy fish snack- Neuvillette, are you okay?"
Well, he definetly didn't expect to hear you call an otter... with his name. He was a mighty dragon, a Sovereign for Celestia's sake, not a small and weak creature!
But as he looked at you swinging the cute otter side to side, pointing at every feature that was very much like him according to you from the blue streaks they had, how they loved swimming, head pats and rolling in the water and how they adored being fed (something he regretted ever telling you about and letting you do it just because he wanted you to do so, that the dragon side of him submitted to you, going as far as letting you pat him and feed him, showing weakness), there was nothing he could do except sigh defeatedly and watch you play with the now horde of them as they all made happy sounds at you.
But really? Did you really have to call the otter between your arms which was cuddling up to you "Mini Neuvi"?
Did you really have to make him blush as he imagined what your supposedly-not-here-yet children might look like as they also cuddled up to your warm embrace, chanting your name?
"Oh My- Neuvillette, there is smoke coming out of you! What the-" your eyes widened at him as you worriedly swam to where he was slightly bent over, hair and hand trying and failing to hide his deep blush and giddy smile as you fussed over him.
Yeah, he had to have better control of his emotions and... bodily reactions from now on.
2. I kissed him under the rain
"As if it wasn't bad already, It's raining again!"
"Ugh, again? There goes my travel plans..."
"I wonder what's wrong with the Hydro Dragon enough to make him cry all the time..."
"This rain is ruining everything-!"
All his life, he listened to and watched people of Fontaine complain about the rain. How it destroyed their shops, how their plans were ruined and how they would surely get sick after this rain... Most of them knew about the Hydro Dragon legend, and as selfish as it might have sounded, he wished people would be at least a little bit worried over him.
Expecting this much wasn't wrong after all, right? He never thought or demanded the people to enjoy rain, he knew it could be a huge hassle to deal with a heavy storm and the mud that came with it.
But never in his eons of life, did he see someone as pecular as you, dancing and laughing under the rain but still held a somewhat thoughtful frown.
"Why are you not running away?"
He blushed at how the question left his mouth so suddenly, turning his head to not look at you as you halted and turned to him with a confused stare but soon grinned like an excited kid.
"Why would I? It's so refreshing and the rain feels nice on my skin!" You couldn't help yourself and jump on a little puddle on the ground and splash water everywhere, gleefully running around as Neuvillette's eyes were trained on you intensely.
He... didn't understand humans most of the times but you? You were another kind of enigma for him as you ran happily and pushed the wet locks of your hair away from your face which usualy irritated most of the women. You were definetly going to get sick, have a runny nose and probably feel fatigued all day... but as you slapped your wet cheeks to make sure all of this was real, and that you were finally here all happy, the sickness that would come after this seemed worthy.
But, Neuvillette had been more silent than you were used to...
Not hearing or seeing any reaction from him, you slowly came to an end in your little game and tilted your head at his expressionless face. "Do you... hate the rain?"
A sudden realization came over at his bashful and solemn face, the downward turn of hisblips and the slight bite he gave to himself. "Oh..."
"Yes..." he muttered under his breath and looked down, eyes brimming with tears and stinging his eyes but hidden by his own wet hair. His face was already flushed from the cold, and perhaps by the sight of your clothes clinging on your body and showing off some of your skin and curves.
Or maybe, the bright yet understanding smile on your face as you tilted your head at him was what made him stop and lift his eyes and stare at you dumbfounded.
And make his own tears pour even harder.
"How can anyone hate the rain?" You asked softly and he knew... He knew you didn't mean just the rain, but himself. He wondered if you were aware of the implication of your words, whether you knew the truth about him or not but frankly enough...
He didn't care.
If it was you who knew, but still didn't say anything, he was fine with his secret out for one more person.
Unaware of his newfound ambition to just "seal the deal" today and finally take the scary yet exciting step into the future, you continued to talk with your hands out in a cupping position, letting the cold rain water collect in the middle of your hands.
"It's a blessing of this world to the people who lives on soil. It is to refresh both us and the soil, the air and the waters so that humans can live. But..." Slowly lowering them down and watching the water run down over your arms, you fiddled with your hands anxiously, contemplating whether it was okay to say what was in your mind since it was a rather sensitive topic for him, with no one else knowing his true identity or name.
You didn't exactly know when you realized it, or whether you knew from the beginning or not but now that you did... Neuvillette wouldn't spend even one more minute alone anymore, you would make sure that he would be happy and loved and would never feel as if he didn't belong anywhere.
But it seemed Neuvillette was very adamant on hearing the rest of your sentence since he took a step towards you and stared down at you with his chest rising up and down rapidly in anticipation, his breath warming your cheeks by both the hotness of it and also the closeness between you two.
"But what?"
You sighed deeply and looked up at the eyes that decorated most of your dreams and daydreams. Confessing feelings have always been hard, it never got easy even if you were in a different world but if you didn't do this... Neuvillette would never do it in fear of making you uncomfortable with himself.
"It saddens me to know that the Hydro Dragon suffers so much, enough to make it flood."
Well, he definetly wasn't expecting this answer.
Out of anything that might have left your lips, what you chose to say amazed him. There was someone worried about him? Well, you weren't necessarily worried about him. After all, you didn't know (and there was no way for it to happen) that he was the Hydro Dragon and also, the one who was sad almost %99 of the time.
He often felt guilty about not being honest to you, when you spoke about most of the things that happened to you or what you used to do in your world before coming here. But the mind was a complicated system, and often showed its ugly side at times like this one.
It screamed at him often that if you were to know the truth, see his true form ... He would see the horror and disgust on your face that usually looked at him so lovingly and softly...
And it would forever break him.
"I think, compared to all the dragons I had ever faced with... He has the most gentle heart ever! But the kindest hearts often suffer the most, I just hope he has someone to care for him." You smiled kindly and knowingly at him with a raise of your brows as you stared at his own wide ones, hoping the usually clueless man would get the meaning behind your words.
And surprisingly enough, he did... He just wasn't sure if he should say something more or not, whether he got the meaning behind right or not.
Surely, you didn't...
"He does... I think he does have someone." He gave a small smile to the slightly parting sky as he looked up and sighed in content. He was glad he had you in his life, after such a long time in solidarity and absolutely no one to understand him. Even when he was just a little hatchling, with seemingly no one to care for him, his tiny heart at that time craved for it as he travelled through this world, all alone...
But never ever imagined to hear those words that left your lips next, as if they were the confirmation he always needed.
"So... Why are you still crying then?" He widened his eyes as he lifted those reddened ones to your face, droplets of salty water still running down his cheeks as amethyst-colored eyes looked at you in wonder, mouth left open in shock in a little "O" shape.
The childish wonder in his eyes made you soften at him as you shuffled closer to him, and even if he was a lot taller than you, he seemed like a fragile and ready-to-cry-at-any-moment little boy as he grasped your hands thightly that was holding his face delicately, scared that this was all his imagination which would perish as soon as he woke up and he would be left staring at his ceiling with empty eyes.
Your heart burst with love at seeing his face, body shivering from anxiety and cold together as he trembled under your touch but still seeked your comfort and warmth. He nudged your palm with a small smile, content and relaxed for the first time since he no longer needed to hide from you. He sighed onto your hands, your finger tips lightly touching his strand of white hair, swiping them away from his forehead as he leant down to your height and leaned his forehead on yours. Closing his eyes tiredly, he leant his body weight on yours but it didn't bother you and neither was it hard for you to hold him up by hugging his waist...
And he purred, placing a wide and teary smile over your face.
He finally trusts me...
"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry... Even if you look pretty while doing so." You teased him softly ( there was true honesty to your words anyways), with adoration evident on your tone as you almost sung those phrases he sometimes heard children say. Your hands rubbed his back softly, drawing circles as the rain started to lower down and tiny specks of light shone on you both.
You sighed out and buried your face to his neck, cheeks smushing on his shoulder as your arms thightened around him as if to shield him from any more harm.
And, the most joyous thing was... He let you. He squeezed your back with equal force and buried his face to your neck, with his lips tingling painfully just to lay a soft and loving kiss there.
Just as many times you affectionately kissed his forehead with praises spilling from your mouth.
"Just as you promised a lot of times... I'll do everything in my power to make you happy, Neuvillette. That is, if you ha-" your hand was idly patting and going through his locks softly, hand scraping along his scalp as your murmurs hit and was absorbed by his greedy skin as he soaked it all up even in the middle of his shock.
How can you even ask such a question when he was ready to give his life for you?
"Yes..." he was already overwhelmed enough with love, and with each word passing your lips... The reality of the situation you two were in had settled.
Finally... Finally, he had you.
His arms thightened around you, voice shaking as if he was the most afraid he ever had been."Please... Don't leave. I don't know if I can live again without you... now that I had a taste of your love and warmth."
You were shocked to hear such a declaration, so passionate yet calm, just like Neuvillette himself. You slightly parted from him to look at his face, knowing his eyes would never betray his words but he was making it difficult by clinging onto you more.
"Is it-" you started anxiously, fearing that it was because of the connection between the Sovereign and the Creator when a scoff left him, nose scrunched up as if you just said the most weird and offensive thing ever known to a man.
"No, It's because you are Y/N... You are the one I love."
And what else of a reason you would need, when he craddled your face so gently and stroked your chin before slowly diving down and kissing you sweetly under the soft rain as the time stopped for you two, and the nature all around Teyvat blossomed and shone with power?
3. I fainted because he was too cute and handsome, especially when he smiled
"You are so handsome when you smile..."
Now, Neuvillette was used to the way you abruptly threw praises and sweet words at hım throughout the day. Sometimes they were agressive as you squeezed his cheeks together and made hım stare in your eyes while you doted on him.
But this one... This one was new, and he wasn't ready to hear it yet.
At least, fast enough to cover his reactions to save himself from more teasing from you.
"Thank you, my love... Though it couldn't compete with your-" he coughed out as his tail swinged happily behind him, internally cursing himself for deciding to use his hybrid form since you begged him that it would only be the two of you in his office and that you wouldn't let anyone enter without asking first.
And he was a fool in love anyways, who always became weak in the knees whenever you asked for something.
Besides, he couldn't lie: Upholding his human form for so long made him itchy and he was really enjoying as you patted and scratched his tail and scales as his very long tail was wrapped around your waist possessively.
"It's so bright and mesmerizing that it brightened my next eternal life for good...." You were brushing his hair and styling it into a high ponytail just because you thought it would suit him, so focused on your task that you didn't realize how his whole body bibrated because of his content and loud purr...
Which soon made you lean over his left shoulder and stare at his face with a loving and teasing smile.
And there it was, the fierce blush that often coated his handsome face whenever you blurted out your intrusive thoughts...
He blinked several times while looking at you with wide eyes, his heart making flips then stopping and doing it once again which made you snort and lean back on the plush chair you pulled behind his own table...
And soon, very soon, his whole face (and you were sure even his chest) was covered in the reddest red ever known as he stumbled over his own words while slightly trembling.
It was cute... But was it normal for him to tremble?
"Neuvillette? Are you... Did I say something out of-" you slightly raised from the chair while holding the handles and put the brush away, ready to assist him when he suddenly shouted out with an embrassed laugh.
"N-No, not at all! I'm fine, better than I've ever been actually!"
He would never dare to make the same mistake he once did when he reacted to your sweet and definetly distracting words. It was bad enough now that it was becoming harder to control himself...
Maybe, you would be down to the idea of a nightly swimming date?
4. I told him what happened to me and he made the city overflow
"Aaand, that's pretty much it... I already forgave them all but... I think I would never forget it."
Talking about what had happened in all the lives you lived, considering all the religious and cult-like trauma, was something hard to do. Especially since it was still a fresh wound that kept opening again and again at the sight of the Archons in your daily life. They still showed themselves to you from time to time, begging for your forgiveness even though Neuvillette himself almost headbutted with the ex-Geo Archon himself, another fellow dragon who was not as strong as him.
Even though you told them that you put all of that in your past, that you forgave them... They just didn't seem satisfied. They wanted to be closer to you, hang out with you and bask in your warmth as well.
Much like a certain someone, who was deadly serious about not leaving you alone with them for more than a few minutes.
But, could anyone really blame him? You were his treasure, his everything, the one he patiently waited for years without straying from his logic.
His soulmate that he never though he had, or could have. You were kind and loving and generous, and him... awkward about most of the things that concerned human nature, clueless, broken and rough around the edges. He, even now, never actually believed he could make you happy like you deserved while having all these flaws, especially whenever those Archons spoke of all the flaws he had and how he wasn't enough... But as you stared up at him any time he got into one of these moods, held his face and kissed his frown and worries away with little whispers of your love, he knew why he was still alive and had to fight for another day.
He spent lonely years by himself with his heart in agony, listening to it crying for the real home for him... And now that he had it, he learnt all the terrible things they did to You, how they all refused to lend a helping hand to someone in need of it without adding the fact that it was the Creator, and everyone expected him to be fine with it?
Hell no.
He just... couldn't wrap his mind around it. How could they, he thought bitterly as you leaned your head to his shoulder innocently, watching the moon shine outside and reflect the light on both of you. Your hand timidly reached out to his, smaller fingers wrapping around his much bigger ones as if you knew very well the emotional turmoil he was in to comfort him though it was him who was supposed to do that for you.
And it made him even more guilty as he leant his head on your own, as selfish as it seemed to him for seeking such thing from you at your vulnerable state.
How could they almost destroy such a cheerful, happy and kind person? Our Creator?... My love?
You were always the sunshine of wherever you entered, an eye-catching presence in the usually gloomy and calm City of Fontaine. Even when you first came, before seeking refugee and begging Furina to listen to you... You were still kind enough to stop and help a child find her mother, help a lost melusine out ( you later learnt it was Puca, who would grow on you later when she re-approached you with a necklace of sea-shells and offered them to you timidly), and even bring joy to the water in their city so much so that there wasn't a stormy or gloomy day ever. And that was enough for everyone, alongside the golden scars across your arms, that you were their true Creator.
Besides, Neuvillette didn't have to listen to what Furina had to say, the primal dragon in him was already roaring, growling and trashing inside at the other stupid Archons who dared to touch you, to hurt you. How could they, it yelled in his mind often as the loyal dragon it is to the Creator, connected with a deep sense of loyalty and... love. That dragon side of him purred loudly and softly whenever you seeked him amongst a crowd, or simply sitting with him.
The fact that it was him who you felt safe with made both him and the dragon proud and happy, so much so that if he could use his half-hybrid form, which he was already doing it a lot thanks to you, his tail would be flicking back and forth much like a puppy.
He might not be the best with emotions, with them being especially more complicated with humans and all. He might have not understood what pain, heartbreak and even anger meant but there was one thing clear:
Something in his chest broke so wildly, so loudly and stung his heart so harshly at the sight of your tears that the air in his lungs were punched, and made him silently choke on his own tears.
"Never will you ever feel scared, unsafe and unloved, Your Grace... I will make sure of it." He gently craddled your face between his much larger and slightly calloused, naked hands after finally, finally finding his voice back even if it left his lips in a raspy and wavering way with arms squuezing your body thightly. But you didn't mind it, all you could ever need was here anyways...
Except...
"Not that..." he hummed in confusion with a tilt of his head, the blue streaks of his hair tickling your face softly as you giggled and buried yourself deeper to his chest.
"I don't like it when you call me that..."
"Then what would you like me to call you, my love?" You grinned with joy as you bonked your head with his, another affectionate yet cute gesture he learnt you did whenever you were full of excitement and love. Trying to be silent, so that your army of daughters didn't wake up from next doors, you pushed him on the bed you two shared, hand on his sturdy chest as you stared down at his flushed cheeks and flustered eyes at your sudden dominance.
What a sight it was to have the ever stoic Chief Justice, the Hydro Sovereign under your mercy like this, all pretty and yours...
"I like that one better actually. Can you say it again?" You tilted your head cutely with a smile, your sadness from before long forgotten as his eyes softened at you from below you,happy that he was at least able to do that for you. His hand slowly trailed up your waist, to your back and softly craddled your face with his naked hands, hands rubbing your cheeks oh so lovingly as he uttered those sweet names to you slowly, with no rush at all with closed eyes and a loving smile.
"My love..."
"Again..." you breath got caught in your throat as the sudden rush of love and safety overwhelmed you, the man you loved from the beginning uttering and declaring his love to your skin was both too much and not enough.
Not when you unforfunately were deprived of such thing in both worlds.
More, more, I need to hear it more...
"my precious, most beautiful and one and only love..." he slowly pushed himself up on his elbow with the help of his hand on the bed, thightly holding your neck with a promise on his tongue. He was an ancient being with even more ancient thoughts on courting and loving someone. If a dragon loved someone, and devoted themselves to that person once... That was it. No more turning back, no more being lonely, no more suffering. The dragon would make sure their mate was well-fed, safe and happy with them and that no harm would ever come to them ever again, even if the dragon died.
And that dragon side of him was insperable from him after all and therefore, he was eternally yours to have, to be your sworn protector.
Those who treats his family badly would suffer the worst consequence ever...
But for now, he would only kiss your tears away, run his hands across every single scar that told another story and was left unhealed for so long.
I'll fight with everything, move the whole Teyvat upside down and rip through everyone with sharp and protective claws who dared to hurt you and take you away from him.
Not when I had been waiting for you for millenias and just now had you.
"My treasure... You are not alone. You will have me for as long as you want."
He wanted to say everything his heart desired to do but right now, at this vulnerable moment for you as you both laid naked... This was enough.
His arms around you thight was enough.
His deep voice declaring his absolute adoration and devotion to you, bringing you close to tears was enough.
The soft raining outside, making a knowing smile appear on your adorable face smushed to his chest was enough.
Your loving kiss right where his heart was enough.
He and his love was enough.
That is until he learnt in the morning that he accidently made the city overflow deep at night while crying silently to himself for you, thinking you were asleep, but bury himself deep in the sheets while you laughed at hım first thing in the morning and he almost cried tears of frustration at you again.
5. I love him
He gave his true name.
Slowly, very timidly, he brought his hand closer to yours on his face and took a hold of the softness of it with his own glowed hands. This was one of the things he loved to do the most, caressing your hands and rubbing the tips of your finger before kissing every inch of it, showing them the love no one did and could never do.
Not when your heart, skin, body and soul only knew him.
To him, your hands were divine in more than one way. They created life and helped people around, they were what patted the head of the young ones, what helped a little babe who fell on their bum and looked at you with glossy eyes, they were what showed your kindness and love to everyone and everything even after all they did, ever the unworthy ones of such love...
They were what you used to comfort him with your warmth, at long and painful nights as the sky roared with thunders and rain and he was guilt-striken at the thought of people judging him and uttering harsh words to the "Hydro Dragon".
Those were the especially hardest nights for him, marred with the images of you and his "daughters" injured and dying... His mind screaming, torturing with those images and the painful screams, mocking him for not being enough, powerful enough to save those closest to hım as everything drowned him.
Not enough...
You couldn't even save the one you love...
Failure...
Their deaths are on you-
It's okay not to be okay, my love...
But your soft voice, laced with utter devotion and love for him, was always what made it all better as he laid across your chest and hugged you thightly while your hands played with his silky locks. Sometimes, he wondered if you were reading his mind since you always knew when he was down. It was absolutely amazing yet, you were amazing too.
With ot without being the Creator.
Much like the first time he knew his every being now belongt to you, that his heart had fallen for you beyond your title, because you trully loved him for who he was, it fell again and again even more with each passing day.
His heart fell even deeper in love whenever you shyly entered his office to have a hug before dealing with the problems of Teyvat and other realms, saying that his hugs were really relaxing to which he silently teared up, brought him food and ate with hım since he forgot to eat regularly which pissed you off and he would make it up to you by kissing you, whenever you excitedly pointed to a place to have a sudden date with him while strolling in the Fontaine...
And therefore, the last thing he would give to you... would be the sign and show of his utter loyalty and trust.
Himself and his true name, as he proposed to be yours for eternity.
"Will you accept someone like me to be your eternity, Your Grace?"
With happy tears in your eyes as you nodded and jumped on him, which made him fall back on his ass and laugh freely he kissed every part of your body and uttered öne last thank you.
"Thank you for loving me no matter what..."
A soft laugh as you looked up towards the sky which had a soft rain under bright sun, a great show of the feelings Neuvillette was feeling, you kissed him deep once more, much like the first time you kissed.
"Thank you for being you, for letting me love you, my husband... I love you." You nuzzled closer to him with a wide grin as you both laughed while he twirled you happily as the melusines cheered and cried in joy, the waters around you two bursting up towards the sky and creating a feast for eyes with bright colors.
The people cheered in the distance, made new offerings to you and your new husband in happiness and gratitude for being able to witness this day...
But all you needed, all your eyes would see and all your heart would feel was right between your arms... In the form of the Hydro Dragon Sovereign, with pretty amethyst eyes that reflected you and gave you hope when you almost lost it and soft hairs of blue and pearly white that was entangled between your fingers as your lips found his passionately.
#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact x you#genshin impact x gender neutral reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#neuvilette genshin#neuvilette x reader#neuvilette x you#neuvillette x reader#neuvillette x you#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette imagines#genshin sagau#sagau#creator au#neuvillette sagau#fluff#genshin fluff#neuvillette fluff
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No One Knows
Characters/Ships: Yandere!Ruan Mei x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut written by a minor, Possessiveness, Fingering
For years, Ruan Mei has struggled with her ongoing research in the origins of life. Failed experiment after failed experiment. The emanator she created was only a short-lived example of all those years of hard work. Maybe it was too ambitious. And frankly, too large to manage. She needed something more stable, and tangible for long enough to be studied.
Through hours upon hours of trial and error, she finally succeeded in the creation of her most prized possession: you, her perfect little creation.
Her attempts at creating life were finally fulfilled with the help of that trailblazer from the Asteral Express. You were timid at first. Her modifications gave you the knowledge and ability to speak and read, but it took some time to warm up to her. Ruan Mei desperately wanted to study you immediately, but she’ll settle for simple observations until she gains your trust.
It was a slow process. If Ruan Mei has learned anything, it’s that she needs to learn how to show you affection. She spent more time with you when it didn’t involve her research. Although she’s been apathetic for some time, you’ve given her the courage to step out of her comfort zone. For the sake of this project of course.
Whatever she did worked. You eventually became as clingy as her past experiments. It’s only natural for you to adopt that same loving nature as the others have, but this time she’s enabled it a little more. She lets you be in the same room when she’s doing side projects and shares her knowledge of the biological and ecological aspects. She shares a lot of her pastries with you, and even makes the time to bake things with you. Sometimes when she’s spending a lot of time writing, she lets you lay your head on her lap for a while. She used to only see you as an influential accomplishment, but now she feels a sense of protective ownership over you.
She can’t keep you at the space station forever. Even though Herta doesn’t mind, she’s starting to get a little too curious about what Ruan Mei is keeping in that unoccupied level of the station.
And worst of all, her little creation is starting to wonder what’s behind those big steel doors that keep her locked in. And that just won’t do. She’s seen you giving those doors such longing looks, seen you tap and occasionally scratch the glass window. She makes a mental note to re-enforce the durability—‘just in case’. She knows she should observe your new behaviors a little closer, but she came to that conclusion a little too late the day she caught you stealing her card.
Were you…actually trying to escape? But why? She transformed this entire area just for you. Her past experiments have prepared her for what it takes to give something life; from food to sunlight to entertainment to company, what more can you possibly need?
“I’ll show you how much you need me.”
Her kisses are feather light at first. She pins you against the very door you intended on breaching. Even the pinning is gentle. You could probably struggle against her, but something tells you that she can easily overpower you with enough motivation.
Just as gently, her knee pressed right against your core. Her lips brush against your cheek, “Do you want more?” She asks sweetly. A little too sweetly. You shake your head, and she flips you around forcefully. In her breathy voice commands: “Hands against the door.”
Your palms shakily press against the surface. “Perfect,” she muses.
She strokes here hands all along your body, eventually settling on your waist. “Look at the way your body reacts to my touch. You’d miss this if you left me.” She kisses and nips your skin with satisfaction as her lips move down your neck.
“Only I can make you feel like this. I created you; I know your body like the back of my hand,” her thumb tugs at your waistband, causing your breath to hitch, “See? Spread your legs for me…yes, just like that, wider. That’s my girl.”
She rolls your pants down carefully to the floor, prompting you to kick them off. Your underwear follows soon after. She returns to her stance behind you. Her gloved hand finds its way to your entrance, and her middle finger is the first to push past your folds. “Be good for me.” She rasps, planting kisses around your shoulder blade.
Your slick coats her finger with every stroke. She retracts from you for just a moment to bite her soaked glove off with her teeth. She tosses it behind her before returning to your inviting warmth with an added finger. She sighs pleasurably, almost nothing is obstructing her skin from yours.
Her other hand forces you to look out the window as she scissors her fingers inside you. The glass is somewhat clouded from your panting, but you can make out the sight of how her green eyes bore into yours.
Her fingers curl and rub feverishly against your sweet spot. Your body shudders as you inch closer to your climax. “Let go,” she moans, “let go and cum for me.” Your slick spurts through her slender fingers as you climax.
As you come down, Ruan Mei whispers a few “good girl”s as she kisses your neck. Her arms wrap around your body possessively with no intention of letting go.
She’ll make arrangements for a more permanent residence to keep you close. No one knows of your existence, and she intends to keep it that way.
#hsr#hsr x reader#ruan mei#hsr ruan mei#ruan mei x reader#ruan mei smut#hsr smut#honkai star rail smut#💋
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Batman Quest To Get A Birkin Bag
Ok so I have a very indulgent, SuperBats head fanfic that keeps me company on days that I forget to charge my earphones while walking my dog and to bore my wonderfully accommodating friends over dinner.
Long story short it’s a character study about Clark after his death. Doomsday kills him becuase we do not subscribe to Synder movies in this household.
Mostly its about Bruce grieving and reflecting on his ten+ year marriage with the man of steel with a large helping of the Justice League members bonding and finally getting to know Bruce and in turn Clark. (Kal never really got to say specifics about his life because Bruce wanted to keep his identity secret therefore a lot of Clark's life was private.)
For most of the fic Clark’s dead. But I'm one for angst with a happy ending so he comes back. How he comes back I have all kinds of versions but I just want to share this really silly one that I’m slightly obsessed with.
It’s about two years after Clark died. Currently, Bruce and Hal are off-world for a two-month mission. Shortly after they leave the League are battling some sorcerer who's in possession of a Jinn. During the battle two of the three wishes are used and at the end it's Flash who gets to use the last one.
He wishes for Clark to be revived back to life.
Jinn says he can't do that
Flash thinks of course just like in Aladdin you can't bring the dead back, make someone fall in love or wish for more wishes.
The Jinn is like how dare you think that's not within my power of course I can bring back the dead, I can't bring back Superman because Clark's not dead. he's just in his grave too weak to break out of his grave due to the lack of sunlight.
Flash hears this and immediately rushes over to dig up Kal.
The next month and a half are all about Clark adjusting to the changes over the last three years (Like having a new kid at the manor: Tim) Meeting new members (Green Arrow, Martian Man Hunter), and really bonding with his teammates ect.
While waiting for Bruce's return Clark asks Barry what he'd like.
Barry is confused
Clark clarifies that Barry was able to bring back one of Bruce's loved ones “to life.“ That’s never happened and for a man like Bruce who loves deeply for his family he going to be very grateful and he will not take “I’m just glad I could help” for an answer. So Barry needs to think of something or Batman will.
Barry doesn't know what to ask for but knows that Bruce is rich. He figures this would be a great time to get that designer bag that Iris always wanted but they could never justify ever buying. (Listen I don’t know if Iris is a designer girly but in this fic she really just likes this one bag.)
So Bruce and Hal get back and after the big celebration party, the JL held for Clark and Bruce's reunion. Bruce approaches Barry thanks him and asks if there’s anything he can do.
Thinking Barry is going to ask for a house, pull some strings with his Brucie persona so he can better his life at his job or status. Maybe ask for Bruce to fund or set up a wellness program for people in Central City.
But Barry is just like: Uh well Iris has always liked this bag.
And Bruce is thinking Really Barry You brought the love of my life back to life I’d move mountains (without Clark’s help) for you and you want some designer bag for your wife?
Bruce: Do you have a picture?
And as soon as Barry shows him the bag Bruce knows moving mountains would be so much easier.
The bag Barry wants to get is a Birkin Bag.
Now if you know anything about Birkin bags 1. they’re stupid expensive. 2. If you can afford one that doesn't mean you get to buy one. Hermes the company that makes them has this irate practice that you have to work up a good relationship with the store and the sales associates in said store to even get the privilege to buy a Birkin (usually by buying a ton of other Hermes products you don’t want.) Sometimes you buy half the store but if you’re not a high-profile client or they don't like your image they just brush you off and postpone your chance to ”buy” a Birkin. And if you do all of the above prerequisites You don't even get to pick the bag they "give" you one. Want a pink colorway? Sorry here's lime green you're welcome.
Now Barry has no knowledge of any of this and just thinks a Birkin is just some overpriced bag. The problem is Iris only likes this one colorway ( Size 35cm, Red Alligator Exterior, Gold hardware, Yellow Slik interior ect.)
This is going to be near impossible.
But In Bruce's mind, Flash did the impossible in bringing back Clark (Bruce thinks Clark was wished back to life because that's the story everyone is sticking to. Because the emotional trauma of letting Bruce know that Clark was alive the whole time rotting away in a grave for 2 years is not on anyone’s todo list.) So he will get this bag Even if it kills him. He's the goddamn Batman.
And all this lead up is to what I'm actually obsessed with
I just love the idea that Bruce is running around Brucie-ing it up to try to get in Hermes' good graces but his image of being a drunk playboy is activity stopping him from buying any bag.
He calls up the Daily Planet and starts setting up all these puff PR-boosting articles to up his image. Which starts rumors becuase Burce Wayne doesn’t do interviews so why now?
Gotham elite catches wind that Burcie Wayne wants a Birkin richest man in America can't get one. So they all start getting Birkins. They ware them to his galas, just to troll Burcie. The elite jump on the waitlist inflating the list to stupid long. Hermes starts to wear the exclusivity of Brucie Wayne as a sign of good taste and prestige.
Bruce searches the second-hand market and can't find the colorway Iris's wants.
Bruce goes undercover as a worker for a local Hermes store to become his own sales associate just so he can get around the prejudices of Bruce Wayne image and start racking up a sales history. (He just selling and buying to himself lol.)
So Bruce is playing a luxury salesman using his background of old money and Alfred’s butlering to woo potential buyers. Working his first retail job ever. Having to suck up to management so he can plead his case about Bruce Wayne. Using his access to get informed on what bags are currently available, who’s on the waitlist, where they rank, and criteria on how and what moves you up the list ect.
After months and becoming the number one salesman, he makes his case to allow Brucie Wayne to buy a bag.
It’s declined.
So he switches tactics.
He just makes a new cover as a recently won lottery winner looking to burn cash and wants to burn it with Hermes. And starts a new sale history. Using all of his knowledge and intel about what gets you on the waiting list.
He gets stonewalled a few times by former co-workers that he gets around by blackmailing them with gossip and infractions he witnessed or was told In confidence when he was a fellow sales associate.
Finally, his lottery winner persona is put on a waitlist. The only problem is he’s at the very bottom.
So what does he do?
He suties up As Batman and starts intimidating all those who are higher on the list than his lottery winner cover rocketing him up the list.
He hits a roadblock when he tries to scrace a woman on the list who doesn’t believe he’s actually Batman becuase “Why would Batman even want with a Birkin?”
Which leads to an escalation that gets him an earful from Superman who’s called to the scene by said woman whos terrified after Batman strings her upside down over the edge of her high-rise penthouse.
Clark offers to buy the bag becuase who wouldn’t want that kinda of PR endorsement?
Which Bruce vittamently refuses becuase it would cheapen the gift.
Finally, after a week of terrorizing wait-listers, his lottery winner persona is “given“ the opportunity to buy a bag.
But disaster strikes when that lucky break he thought he got because he was next on the list was actually bad luck becuase the person was bumped off becuase they bought the bag that Bruce had painfully calculated to purchase which was the only bag that would be made in the next 3 years that has the colorway that Iris wanted.
So Bruce tracks down and comforts the buyer in the dead of night as Batman. The buyer freaks out and says they didn't even want this colorway and really wanted a Caranery yellow ostrich skin colorway and if he could get her that one she'd trade for it.
This leads Bruce to play matchmaker for a series of buyers that have Birken Bags they don't love and would trade for their dream bag. And after months of fetch questing and matching sad Birken owners around the world with their dream bags Bruce he pulls it off. He finally gets a Canary, yellow ostrich skin colorway Birkin bag trades it for Iris’s dream bag. Only to find out it was ruined in a car crash that was caused by an alien invasion 2 months before that the JL had a particularly nasty time with and it was Bruce’s Batmobile that was thrown into her parked car.
The bag is a mess the zipper borken, missing hardware, leather scratched. But Bruce so done with everything accepts the trade and takes it back to the cave. Where he proceeds to 3D scan the bag then composite a CAD model and starts to collect all the raw components of the bag himself.
Getting only the best materials (much better than what Hermes was using) Talking to Killer Corc on how to find the best alligator pelts. Flying to India to personally pick out the red dye for the color. Mining the gold for the hardware from an asteroid that was threatening the Watchtower.
After he has everything Bruce proceeds to by hand construct an exact replica of Iris's dream bag. Essentially making the most over-budgeted fake to exist. Where he finally gives it to Barry (who has no inkling of the time and effort Bruce has put into this side project that has taken the better part of a whole year) who jokes in saying “Oh wow takes 12 months to run to the store huh?”
#Shit I'm never going to write#Fic Idea rambling#Silly Ideas#Superbat#The Flash#Batman#Superman#Burcie Wayne#bruce wayne#Messing Around#DCAU#Stupidly long#I'm great at parties ;)
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Creator Spotlight: @66sharkteeth
66 is a comic artist and the creator of City of Blank, a WEBTOON original series. They worked in the game industry at companies such as 2K Games before entering the field of comics. They began their career in comics at Tapas, where they worked as an editor and lead typesetter, before being signed to create their own original series on WEBTOON.
Check out our interview with 66 below!
Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?
The short answer is yeah, I’ve definitely had one. Overall, I feel like doing a lot of style studies during that time and trying to use new brushes helps a lot. In addition, because I’m a comic artist, I feel like writer’s block is in the same field, and with that, I’m really fortunate that I have an editor that I can work with, who helps me a lot there. Whenever I am stuck at a plot point in my comic, I can always go to my editor, who helps me hammer things out.
What medium have you always been intrigued by but would never use yourself?
Animation. Of course, everyone loves animation. I went to school for game art and design and even did some animation courses, and I am just not cut out for it. I don’t enjoy the process, and I am not good at it. Animation is beautiful, and I admire people who can do it. I’d love for my work to be animated some day, I’m just not capable of being the one to do it haha.
Warm tones or cool tones?
It really depends on the scene! Especially in my comic, I really go with both of them, just depending on the moment in the comic. There was a major character death, and that scene was almost black and white. But normally, the comic is very vibrant, and people really like it, so when I switch it to a more cold tone, it makes the scene that much more impactful.
What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?
Honestly, my current comic, City of Blank, takes up 100% of my time. But recently, I did a plushie campaign where I worked with Makeship through Webtoon to design the plushies and do a little bit of marketing for them. So that’s fun and different from what I normally do!
When planning a comic or a story, what do you do first, character design or character outline?
Normally, I have a design, and I fall in love with the character design, and then I find a role for them. That’s how a lot of my characters have started. Also, that’s how I’ve been tackling new projects that I want to work on after City of Blank. I just came up with a character, and I’m trying to make a story around them.
What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?
Meeting readers and realizing how much my work means to some of them. Some of them have started their own comics, having been inspired by mine. Learning that I’m part of the reason they started their own comic journey, the same way I looked to other inspiring comic artists to start mine—it means the world that I’m in that position now.
Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?
Let’s see…bright, sparkly colors! I think just trying to make sure that the booth is eye-catching. I ended up making a big shiny banner for New York Comic Con, and I know many people stopped by because it caught their eye and they’re curious about what it is. I know a lot of people are selling merchandise of popular media. Even just a banner of your brand to get them curious about who you are and maybe interested in seeing what you make and taking a business card so they can look you up later. It’s better than someone just buying a pin and forgetting you exist. Lastly, put out a tip jar. You never know just how generous your fans are feeling.
Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?
I’m mostly involved in the webtoon sphere! I am definitely inspired by my fellow Webtoon creators, @lark-wren, who created the series Woven. I love their work and seeing them interact with their readers on Tumblr. Same with fellow Webtoon creators, @miranda-mundt-art and @astrobleme-enterprises, who created Lovebot.
Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, 66! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @66sharkteeth and follow their webcomic, City of Blank, over at WEBTOON.
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scene 03: get in loser, we’re going shopping
original prompt: gotham academy's mentorship program
more at: table of contents
timeline: much later after scene 1 & 2
Danny and Damian sat at one of the corner tables in the library. Danny had finals coming up, and was busy reviewing the term’s worth of topics from all his classes. Damian, who had insisted on joining him, sat bored. having nothing left to study.
Danny looked at the younger boy when he sighed for the 3rd time in the past five minutes. Deciding that maybe he should take a break and indulge Damian, Danny finished the last problem, and let his book shut with a loud finality.
Damian looked up at him hopefully, “Are you done, now?” He asked. Danny could tell he was trying his best to not seem too eager, but Danny couldn’t help but laugh at his antics.
“Yup,” packing his things away first, he waited for Damian, when he noticed what the boy had taken up in his boredom. “Woah, Damian.” He whispered in awe, picking up the paper closest to him. “You did this?”
Damian seemed to need a moment to understand what Danny was referring to before becoming flustered and embarrassed, a soft pink spreading on his ears, “It was simply mindless work.” He sounded defensive, like someone had berated him for his artist interests before. Danny tried not to react to that, knowing Damian would probably find it insulting.
The sketch was on the back of a math worksheet Damian had long since completed, it was of a fighter who seemed to be using his sword to attack a nondiscript opponent. Danny knew from his many intensive training sessions with Pandora that the figure's form was slipping into leaving them open for an easy frontal attack from their opponent, while simultaneously leaving the fighter to not have the range of motion they might need to defend themselves. Most of the lines of the drawing were scratchy and short but overly repeated giving the fighter the illusion of fast movement, directly in contrast the hard outline of the fighter’s form made it seem like the fighter was stuck in their position.
Liminals and liminal-agencent people by definition did not have a strong awareness to manipulate ectoplasm consciously like other more ghostly beings could. Coincidentally, liminals tended to leak their own internally produced and stored ectoplasm when they acted on their deep emotions. Scientifically this usually showed itself as a person ‘harnessing their full potential’ in moments of crisis or in some more extreme and rarer cases accessing their metagene (meta’s were not to be confused with liminals or ghostly beings they hold few to no similarities outside of coincidence). Danny had known from the beginning that Damian was a liminal, likely from prolonged exposure to ectoplasm, and paradoxically had a difficult time understanding and accessing his own emotions. Emotional negligence was never healthy for an ectoplasmic being, and Danny knew it would be a long process for Damian to learn how to properly deal with his layered and complex emotions.
That being said, there was a steady level of ectoplasm spread over the paper, something that did not match what Danny would have expected from Damian’s current state with his emotional and subsequently his ectoplasmic abilities. The fighter was clearly a character Damian had either consciously or subconsciously created to represent himself.
Danny could work with this.
During the long moment of silence Damian seemed to have grown more and more anxious for Danny’s reaction. Danny let his emotions display easily on his face, wide eyed, “This is so good, Damian. I didn’t know you drew. Do you like art?”
“I do not draw. Art is a meaningless waste of time and only those without higher goals would indulge in such an activity.” Damian sounded conflicted, and the words he was saying were pretty obviously echoed from what someone else had said to him.
“That’s ridiculous,” Danny scoffed, “Art is a very important basis for almost everything. I mean it would feel pretty stale to live in a world where there was no uniqueness anywhere. Drawing, painting, writing, acting, sculpting, singing, or whatever else, are all unique forms of making something that no one else could truly ever recreate exactly. Even if it’s minute, there are always differences in the way that one person would commit to something than another person. It’s the basis of humanity and in the core of the human mind. If you try to block it so harshly from yourself, you’ll end up locking up an integral part of yourself that sets you apart from the other 7 million people on this planet.”
Damain stood there, considering what Danny said.
Not waiting another moment, Danny grabbed Damian’s bag heading out of the library. “What are you doing?” Damian asked suspiciously, quickly falling in step with Danny, grabbing his bag back.
Danny smirked at him, “We’re going shopping, Loser.”
Damian looked scandalied at the nickname, not understanding the reference. “I am not a loser.” he huffed.
Danny just laughed as they waited for the next bus. Once they got to their stop and entered the store, Danny beelined for where he knew the art supplies to be. Damian followed behind him, unfamiliar with the store.
Sure, if Damian wanted, he could easily buy the more top of the line supplies, after all he was a Wayne. But Danny was pointedly a broke scholarship kid right now, and it didn’t sit right to let Damian pay for things he was buying, no matter how much of a trust fund kid he may be. Not that Danny was exactly broke, but he imagined the cashiers at their local supermarket wouldn’t appreciate him trying to pay for a sketchbook, a couple sketch pens and pencils, and a 25 pack of Crayola markers with solid gold coins.
It was around 4:30 when they left the store with their stuff, Damian eyeing the bag curiously the whole time. They walked the rest of the way to a local cafe, and Danny sat Damian down.
“Okay, we’ll be here for the next hour,” He pulled out his own sketchpad, the concepts filling the pages were more accurately blueprints more than drawings, “Draw whatever you want.”
“I don’t know what to draw.” Damian huffed, awkwardly taking the supplies from Danny, and examining his surroundings carefully. Damian sat in the corner for a while, blending into the surroundings as he watched how the world spun around him. Danny was half-way through reviewing one of his older designs when Damian finally decided to open the pack of pencils and the first strike on the paper was made. They stayed there for long over the allotted hour, both sucked into their own projects.
“I finished.” Damian breathed in satisfaction, stretching his hand and back in his chair at the admission.
Danny eyed him with curiosity. “Can I see?” He asked. Danny wasn’t sure how right he had been about Damian using drawing to help regulate his ectoplasm and emotions, and he wanted to check how consistent it would be. Also he was really curious to see what he had drawn.
Damian looked a little bashful at his request, but he nodded, handing the sketch book over to Danny. Danny could easily feel the ectoplasmic energy scattered across the page, it wasn’t as constant as the first drawing had been, but it was still there. So he was right.
The drawing this time was of what had likely originally meant to be the barista, based on the outlines of the industrial coffee machine and register that had started out but been forgotten later for the center of the piece. The man was wearing an apron similarly like the one the barista had been wearing and a similar uniform, but that was the only similarities that Danny could draw from his surroundings in the drawing. The man, unlike their teenaged barista, was quite aged, with thin but well groomed hair, and a mustache. He had a longer face scattered with wrinkles of old age. The old man was looking down, presumably working on something, and seemingly happy with whatever it was. The ecto-signature was more concentrated around the old man, leading Danny to believe it was someone Damian likely loved and admired.
“You’re so good at this.” Danny complemented, honestly. “Did you have fun?” He asked, it was starting to get dark and they had stayed at the cafe longer than Danny had asked him to without complaint.
“Yeah, I did.” He answered after a moment. Danny ruffled his hair affectionately, “Hey, you’re gonna mess it up.” He complained, making no effort to remove himself.
“C’mon, let’s get you home. I have to go to work soon.” Danny led them out of the store, just in time for an expensive looking black car to pull around the bend and expertly stop in front of him.
“Young Master Damian, I’ve come to pick you up.” An old British gentleman spoke from the driver seat, it was the man from the drawing.
“Understood, Alfred.” Damian turned to hand the art supplies back to Danny.
“They’re yours.” Danny refused.
“I’ll take care of them.” Damian promised, placeing the supplies carefully inside his book bag.
“I’m sure you will.” Danny nodded, stepping back so the car could drive away.
“Mister Daniel, I would have no problem taking you home as well. It is quite late now.” The driver spoke kindly. It surprised Danny how accurate Damian had drawn that picture without so much as a reference.
“No it’s alright.” Danny waved away the idea, “I have to go to work now, and it’d be too out of the way for you.” He explained.
The driver didn’t press, but Danny noticed how his eye caught on something in the distance before he bid his farewells and left.
Danny made his way to the bus stop, and waited, mindlessly scrolling through his phone. Moments later another older teen approached the bus stop as well, waiting idly for the transport to arrive. He had black hair with a white tuft in the front, a sign of prolonged ectoplasmic exposure Danny knew all too well, roughly 6’ and some inches, and wore a hood of his red jacket over half his head.
Danny supposed it was fitting for someone who called himself the Red Hood.
The bus arrived, and both Danny and his co-passenger got at the stop before Arkham Asylum. Park Row AKA Crime Alley. By the time Danny clocked in and changed into his uniform for his shift it was already dark outside.
“Welcome to BatBurger.” He said in chorus with the rest of the workers at the bell chime of the door opening. The man walked to the counter silently, his white tuft of hair skillfully swept under a baseball cap he hadn’t had before. When he approached Danny’s station, Danny took his order, and right before completing the transaction, as per procedure, “Can I get a name for your order?” He asked.
“Jason Todd.”
#the effects of talia's parenting is showing and danny is a little concerned#damian learning to channel is inner artist#love to see it#also i really wanted to explore liminalness and ectoplasm here so theres that#idk if its kinda random lol#jason trained by the bats and the LoA mob boss extraordinaire and holder of bat paranoia: gives his full legal name#danny: 0_o#jason is literally so dumb smh#danny and damian bonding#damian inherited his dad's emotional competence#luckily danny's here to save the day
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