#I’m mostly fine just a bit worn out

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

If you sent me asks/have been in my notifications lately and I have not yet responded, DO NOT WORRY!!! My motivation/energy levels have been odd these past few weeks, but I’ve seen all the things, read them, and they’re so so appreciated :’D Thank you all so much for being so stunningly kind, y’all are awesome.

I’ll respond to everything as quick as I can :D

[boyfriendstevie]

sturdy

steve wants to test out the desk he just built for you | everyone say thank you @superblysubpar for encouraging me to write this hehe | 2.7k, f!reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected piv. don't do it kids. 18+ as always!! mdni!!

“Babe! C’mere!” Steve calls from the spare bedroom, echoing down the hall of your new apartment. 

You’re in the kitchen, starting to unpack a few boxes there, while Steve had been working on putting together your new desk. Obviously, you’re more than capable of putting your own desk together, but Steve had offered, and, well, sometimes you have to make the patriarchy work for you. Placing the half-unpacked box of silverware onto the counter, you shout back a reply and head through the maze of boxes to the bedroom, “I’m comin’! Give me a sec!”

When you reach the bedroom, Steve’s standing in the middle of the room, hands on his hips as he looks at his handiwork. His back is to you, so he doesn’t notice when you come in, and you take a second to admire him. He’s quite the sight; wearing an old pair of gym shorts that are a bit too small for him, a well-worn shirt that might be yours — you’re not sure from this angle — and a baseball cap on backwards to keep his hair out of his face. He looks so good, and it hits you then, just how lucky you are. How lucky you are to be living with your ridiculously handsome boyfriend who offers to build things for you out of the kindness of his heart and looks ridiculously good while doing so. 

“Hon—“ the word dies on his lips as he turns around to find you standing in the doorway. A grin stretches across his face at the sight of you, making your heart flutter in your chest. “You starin’ at me, stalker?”

“So what if I was?” you ask, crossing the room so you can throw your arms over his shoulders, “I can’t admire my hot boyfriend?”

A strong arm wraps around your waist to pull you close. He hums in thought before shrugging, “I’ll allow it, I guess. If you give me a kiss.”

“Deal,” you murmur as you lean up on your toes to press your lips to his in a soft kiss. It’s short and sweet, but you don’t mind. “Thanks for building the desk, baby.”

“Anything for you, honey,” he hums quietly in reply, dipping down one more time for a quick peck on the lips. His hand rubs over the curve of your hip gently as he adds, “Hopefully it’s sturdy enough…”

“Steve, I’m sure it’s fine, as long as you followed the directions—“

“Maybe we could test it out?” he asks, giving you a cheeky grin, eyebrows raised in question. 

You snort a laugh, eyebrows furrowing together. You’re pretty sure you know what he’s getting at, but you ask anyway, “And how would we do that?”

His smile grows, looking a bit more mischievous as he turns you around and slowly begins walking you back towards the desk. You let him lead you, giggling with your hands on his shoulders, until you bump into the desk. He leans down to kiss you again, and just before your lips touch, he squeezes your hips and mutters, “Up, honey.”

It’s a messy kiss, your lips nearly missing Steve’s in the effort to get up onto the desk, even with him helping you up. You briefly wonder if this is safe — you have no doubt that Steve built the desk well, but you highly doubt that it’s made to support a whole human’s weight — but the thought quickly passes by when Steve takes your thighs into his hands and pulls you towards the edge of the desk for a proper kiss. 

Steve’s nose nudges into yours, poking at your cheek as he kisses you, lips slotting against yours. He kisses you as if he hasn’t kissed you in days, groaning into your mouth as you rock your hips forward, searching for his touch. You let out a whine when his teeth nip at your bottom lip, tongue quickly following suit to soothe the bite. 

“You know, I was— I was mostly kidding,” Steve pants when he pulls back between kisses, lips pink and wet as his tongue darts out. 

“I know,” you reply with a huff of a laugh, twisting your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, “But you look so fucking hot, and you just built me a whole ass desk, and we fucking live together now, and— please just fuck me on the desk, baby.”

“Shit. Yeah, okay, I can do that,” he quickly agrees, not quiet believing his stupid line actually worked, and that you’re spurring him on as you wiggle your leggings down your hips and legs. The fabric gets stuck at your knees, and Steve springs into action, murmuring something about how it’s his job to undress you as he pulls at the fabric until he can drop it to the floor. 

His hands land on your thighs again, thumbs pressing to the soft flesh at the inside of your thighs as they push up towards your core, spreading your legs apart as he goes. There’s no mistaking the small damp spot in the center of your panties as you squirm under Steve’s gaze. Pressing the pads of his thumbs to the crease at the apex of your thighs, he finally looks back up to you and asks, “Can I taste you first?”

Your answer is a quiet, choked moan and a frantic nod, “Please.”

Steve doesn’t have to be told twice, sinking to his knees in front of the desk as he pulls you closer. It’s the perfect height for this; your burning core only inches from Steve’s hot mouth. He wastes no time in leaning forward, pressing the softest of kisses to the growing wetness there, nose nudging against your clit through your underwear. A low groan comes from deep in his chest, “Can I take these off?”

Before Steve can even finish his sentence you’re nodding again, lifting your hips off of the desk as best you can so he can pull the fabric from your body. As soon as your underwear is on the floor, he’s back on you, licking a broad stripe up your cunt that has you gasping in surprise at his eagerness, “Steve—“

“Mmm,” he hums as his tongue finds your clit, sending vibrations up your spine as he sucks softly and rolls the sensitive nub between his lips. 

It makes you keen, a high-pitched whine that might be embarrassing if you weren’t so blissed out. Your legs tremble as he kisses back down towards your dripping entrance, and your fingers twitch with the need to hold onto something. How Steve always makes you feel untethered so quickly, you’ll never know, but you remedy the problem easily, pushing his hat off of his head. It’s perfect timing on your part; your fingers rake through his soft hair just as his tongue dips inside of you, lapping at your slick. 

You pull at the strands a bit harder than you mean to and Steve moans against you. The sound isn’t quite loud enough for you to hear, but you can feel it. The sensation makes your legs close around Steve’s head, but an arm curls around one thigh before it can press against him. It doesn’t take much for Steve to push your leg back down and hold you open for him, despite how much you’re squirming. 

Steve pulls back after another sloppy kiss to your clit, lips shining with your slick and his own spit. He’s grinning, borderline smug as he nuzzles into the crease of your thigh again, nipping the delicate skin there, “Y’always taste so sweet, baby. Only fitting that my pretty girl has the prettiest pussy, huh?” 

You squirm again, this time in embarrassment, and huff a pathetic whine, “Steve, stop—“

“Well I can’t lie,” he all but giggles, pressing a kiss to your hipbone as his gaze drags up your body to meet your eyes, “Want me to keep going? Or d’ya want my cock?”

Both sound like great options, but you can see the outline of his hard cock in his slightly-too-small shorts, and you want him. Reaching down to brush some hair out of Steve’s face, you murmur, “You. Want you.”

“I gotcha, sweetheart,” he smiles, sweeter this time, giving your thigh another kiss before he pulls himself up to stand. 

Your chest heaves as you reach for him, taking the fabric of his shirt into your grasp and yanking him closer for a kiss. You can taste yourself on his mouth, but you don’t really mind, especially as his hands roam up your sides, inching underneath your shirt to cup your breasts. He’s teasing again, thumbs barely brushing over your nipples. But two can play at that game, even while he’s kissing you so hard you can barely breathe, and you slip a hand between you, palming his hard cock over his shorts. 

“Okay, okay,” he pants after a moment of shaky breaths and wandering hands, “Can you— will you bend over for me? ‘S that alright?”

Instead of answering, you slide off of the desk and cup Steve’s face in your hands to give him a firm kiss. You make a show of turning around, leaning over your brand new desk until your forearms press to the wood grain. You hear a small groan from behind you as you push your hips backwards, ass pressing to Steve’s bulge, “Christ, sweetheart. How’d I get so goddamn lucky? Fuckin’ gorgeous, and all f’me.” 

Warm hands spread wide over your hips, the pad of Steve’s thumb rubbing a short line over one of the dimples in the small of your back. He gives your flesh an appreciative squeeze before his touch is gone. You huff a whine at the loss of warmth and you hear a quiet chuckle from behind you, “Relax, baby. Gimme a second.”

There’s a quiet rustle of clothing, and then Steve’s hands are back on you, pulling you back towards him. You’re about to complain, to ask him to do something, anything, when you finally feel the tip of his cock nudge against your entrance. Your breath catches as he pushes his hips forward, finally sinking into you slowly. He takes it easy, knowing that you’re plenty wet, but maybe not quite warmed up enough from just his mouth. 

He stops when the front of his thighs press against the backs of yours, fingertips dimpling your hips with how firmly he’s holding onto you. Like he’s worried you might slip away. You moan softly at the aching stretch of your cunt, dizzy with how full you feel of Steve, Steve, Steve. He’s all you want — all you can think about, “Oh f-fuuck… Stevie…”

You swear you can feel his thighs quivering against yours as he stills inside of you. You can hear the grit in his voice, picture the way his jaw is clenched, as he murmurs, “Okay?”

A shaky breath escapes your lips, and you nod emphatically, maybe a bit too quickly, voice a higher pitch than normal, “So good, baby. Move, please move, need y-yo—“

The words die on your lips as Steve draws his hips back slowly and then presses back in. Your head falls forward, mouth dropping open in pleasure with a whine. You feel hot everywhere; a warmth that starts in tummy and spreads slowly, creeping up your torso and chest, into your limbs, until it feels like your body is on fire in the best way. 

His hips roll in and out of your tight heat. It feels so good, and somehow, you still need more. Your forearms press further into the desk as you shift, pushing up on your toes to tilt your hips. You know that if you’re in just the right position, Steve will find the spot that makes you see stars. Desperate for the feeling, you shift again and hear a huff from behind you at the movement. 

Steve knows what you want, and pushes his arm underneath you, between your body and the desk. His hands press to the softness of your tummy and to the curve of your hips as he pulls you into a better position, angling your hips so he can reach even deeper. The new angle has you gasping with each thrust, a punched-out sound that you can’t help between whimpers of Steve’s name and expletives. Steve’s not fairing much better, and you can hear the low grunt he lets out every time his skin meets yours, “You’re so wet— fuck, sweetheart — y’hear that? Hear how wet you are f’me? Feel so good ‘round me, baby. So good for me.”

“Y-yes, yeah — ah, Steve! — all yours,” you babble in an attempt to answer him, though you’re too fucked out to be all that coherent. 

Seconds later, you get exactly what you’d been wanting when you’d shifted your hips; the head of Steve’s cock pressing to the spot inside of you that turns you to putty. The moment he finds it, your legs go weak, and Steve’s grasping onto you even tighter in an attempt to keep you somewhat upright. His arm curls across your midsection, and you feel his warmth against your back as he presses his chest to you. You can feel his breath, hot against the nape of your neck as he murmurs, “Right there, baby? That’s what you wanted, huh?” 

You clench around him, making the drag of his cock that much sweeter. The feeling pulls a deep moan out of Steve, sending shivers down your spine as he twitches inside of you. One of the hands on your waist pushes up under your shirt until he can press against your sternum, and then he’s pulling you almost upright. Your eyes meet his in the vanity mirror attached to the desk, and you moan at the sight; you look just as fucked out as you feel, and so does Steve. 

Lips on your neck, Steve hums, pleased, “There’s my girl. Look at yourself, honey, so so pretty on my cock, yeah?” 

“Stevie,” you whine his name, and he’s sure it’s the best sound he’s ever heard, “‘m close, ‘m so close.“ 

“Y’gonna cum on my cock for me, sweetheart? C’mon, honey, know ya can,” he says, his free hand snaking down your torso and your hips to find your clit. He circles it quickly, over and over, just how you like, and with his cock hitting that perfect spot deep inside of you, it doesn’t take long until you fall apart with a cry of his name. 

He’s not far behind you, hips never slowing their pace, even as he bends you back over the desk. Every wave of pleasure has your cunt clenching around him, and it pushes Steve over the edge, too, with whiny groans against your skin where his face is pressed. You can feel him spill deep inside of you and you shudder, eyes squeezing shut as your head falls forward, hitting the desk with a small thunk. 

Steve’s teeth sink into the smooth skin of your shoulder, quick and gentle, more of a nip, as he presses his chest to your back. Soft kisses soothe over the small bites, and then Steve’s pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, breath hot and heavy as he nuzzles there. You pant into your arms folded on the desk and melt into Steve’s touch as his hand rubs lovingly across your hip bones. 

“Y’alright, baby?” he asks, out of breath. 

“Mhm,” you murmur, post-orgasm haze still clouding your thoughts. 

“Good,” you can feel the curve of his lips against your spine, followed by a few soft kisses that trail down your back. He stops halfway down, hands settling onto your hips as he stands back up and slowly pulls out. 

You wince, still so sensitive, but let Steve pull you up and off of the desk, turning you around so your lips can meet his. He kisses you on the mouth, once, twice, and trails a kiss over to your cheek. Your fingers tangle into his hair and you let out a breathless laugh, “I think it’s sturdy enough.”

Steve huffs in amusement, “Thank god. Imagine if it broke while we were on it. And, good news, we just checked the office off of the ‘places we still need to fuck in the new apartment’ list.”

“If you bring me to the bathroom right now, we can check off another one.”

Eyes going wide, Steve grins, literally whisking you off of your feet as he says, “Deal.”

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Geto/gojo/reader “I can’t believe there’s only one bed” and HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY

THANK YOOUUU!! So, this one really sang to me, I went ahead and combined the two, mostly because they are very similar. Thank you both for the prompt!!

Now Presenting...

Starring: A flirty Satoru Gojo, and a tired Suguru Geto

Your body protested every step you took as you walked into the hotel, screaming at you to lay down and accept the sweet embrace of death. Okay, maybe death was a little extreme, but you could definitely have gone for a light coma in that moment. A yawn you had been suppressing came forward, and you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Awe, well aren’t you cute when you’re sleepy.” Gojo teased with a smile, earning him a glare from you. 

“Shut up Satoru.” This entire trip he kept making note of how cute you were, and how you needed to be protected, and at this point, he was on the brink of losing vocal cord privileges.

“Flirt later you two, let’s just get checked in.” Suguru muttered as he ushered the two of you to the front desk. He tried to summon a friendly smile for the clerk, but it didn’t touch his tired eyes. “Hi! Uh, we should have two reservations under Masamichi Yaga.” He said, really hoping they didn’t ask for an id. He told his teacher that he should probably put the rooms under one of the three people going on the mission, but the man was more muscle than brain.

The young worker started typing on the computer, before confusion fell over her features. “Um, I found the reservations, but it says it’s only for one room?” She asked. You were a bit taken back by that, and you could tell from the looks on their faces the boys were too. You thought for sure you’d at least get your own room. But, then again, if getting a room with 3 beds was cheaper than getting 2 separate rooms, it did make sense for Yaga to take that route, the penny pinching bastard. 

“Uh, yea that should be fine, that’s us.” Suguru shrugged, too tired to really argue. Much to your relief (and concern) the woman nodded and happily gave over the room key, not bothering to ask for an ID. What a stand up place. The three of you dragged your tired worn bodies over to the elevator. Well, two of you did. Satoru felt fine, because of course he did. And because he had no problem filling the elevator with whatever came to his head. You shared a look with Suguru.

How do we shut him up? Your eyes asked.

Pillow over his face as he sleeps Sugurus eyes offered.

No, I want him to shut up now. 

Oh, that’s not gonna happen. For now, we just have to endure him.

You sighed, knowing he was right and hating that fact at the same time. Thankfully, the elevator door opened, and the room wasn’t far from it. Geto unlocked the door, and you and Gojo practically fell over him to get into it. You quickly went to grab your toothbrush, and Gojo went to fiddle with the tv. It was Suguru who noticed it first.

“Uh, guys? I don’t see another bed.” He said. You and Gojo stopped cold in your tracks, heads whipping to the center of the room and- yep. That was one bed, and only one bed. Not even so much as a pull out couch in sight. 

“OH ho ho!!” Satoru laughed, launching himself onto the bed and folding himself into what you think was meant to be a sexy pose. “I’ve read fan fiction before, I know what happens here!” He cackled, “Be gentle with me, I’m a virgin” He swooned, acting like a helpless flower. 

“I call sleeping in the bathtub.” Suguru said, checking out of this battle before it became a war.

“No, Don’t!” Gojo whined, reaching out to him, “The bathtub is cold and hard, I'm warm and soft. Unless you want me to be hard.” He winked. 

“I can’t believe there’s only one fucking bed, who sets this shit up?!” You snapped, aggressively waving your hands at the bed.

“God.” Gojo responded.

“Bad fan fiction writers.” Geto retorted, apparently salty about his characterization in my past fics. 

“Satoru get out of the bed.” You demanded, shaking your head. You did not just get out of a fight with ten, count em, ten first grade curses to sleep on the floor.

“How about you get in the bed?” He purred.

“I will, as soon as you get out of it.” you scoffed, fighting back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Why not get in it with me?” He grinned at you, opening his arms wide as an invitation. 

“I’d rather sleep in the bathtub.” You replied.

“Not an option, I already called it!” Suguru reminded you.

“Why don’t you sleep with him?” You accused more than asked, “He’s your man!”

“He is most definitely not my man!” Geto rebuffed the statement, shaking his head.

“He’s actually my man, we just haven’t taken our relationship to the next level yet.” Satoru purred with a cheeky wink to Geto to really seal the deal. Geto rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.” He said, going to grab a pillow from the bed, only for Satoru to grab his arm.

“Come on guys, don’t be silly! This bed is big enough for all of us!” He argued, “We all trust each other, right?!” Gojo paused long enough to look at both you and Geto, but not long enough for an answer. He already knew it. “We know no ones going to try any funny business, we trust each other with our lives there's no reason for any of us to be uncomfortable tonight!” you and Suguru shared more glances. Gojo may be annoying, but when he was right he was right. The only thing really keeping the three of you from sharing was standard social conventions. 

“Fine, but if any of you touch me I’m throwing you off the balcony.” You warned. Geto sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting on the bed.

“I just don’t get why we weren’t warned about this.”

“I mean, it kind of explains the weird look she gave us.” You noted, sitting on the other side of Gojo.

“Yay, sleepover!” Gojo cheered, grabbing onto Suguru because he was the one that didn’t threaten him, “Fair warning, I’m a cuddler.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“I knew I should have just slept in the tub.” Geto sighed.

🛏️🛏️🛏️

In the morning, you were a tangled mess of limbs and drool with your two best friends. Any warning against cuddling being tossed to the wind in exchange for the comfort human warmth brings. You hated to admit it, but it was the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. Gojo woke up not long after you, smiling softly, slowly coming back to life.

“Good morning,” He said. You shook your head and covered his face with a pillow.

“It was before you started talking.” You muttered.“It’s 6 am, go back to bed.” Suguru begged, not happy to have been woken up.

[withleeknow]

hiya! I noticed you have your requests open and if you don't mind, could I please suggest: "for once... I was right" with "don't you dare walk away from me" for Lee Know - maybe angsty but I don't mind you just going with the flow.

thank you!

blue hour.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: exes au, exes to ...? 🫢, angst; minho's pov mostly, open ending kinda, some light cursing, unedited don't look at me word count: 2.2k (i got carried away a little bit) listen to 🎧: breathe again - sara bareilles

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

“this should be the last of your things.”

“thanks,” you say, rummaging through the box that minho hands over to you. everything that you left at his place throughout the entire time you were together; every sweatshirt of yours in his closet, every piece of jewelry on his nightstand, every bottle of nail polish that you kept in his bathroom reserved for nights where you two would pamper each other. they're all here, except for... “did you see my red scarf though? i can’t find it anywhere.”

“no, i checked,” he says. “this is everything.”

“hmm, okay.”

you hold the box between your arms, and minho can’t help but feel something twist painfully in his chest. it’s like you're holding your relationship, or what’s left of it anyway, ready to make your swift exit from his life. two years of love, all dumped into one stupid cardboard box.

you both stand there in silence for what feels like forever, just staring at each other, then at your surroundings, neither of you saying anything. minho knows why he hasn’t bid you a farewell goodnight yet; it’s because he doesn’t want this to end. even though it’s a sad occasion, the finale to your story, he still wants to the seconds to stretch on, for the minutes to last longer. after all, isn’t this the last time he'll ever see you?

why you haven’t left him to his devices and gone upstairs, he isn’t sure.

another moment passes. life goes on but it seems like you two are in your own bubble where nothing moves forward. everything stays rooted to the spot.

“do you want to go for a walk?” you ask after a while. the question surprises minho enough that he lets it show, and it makes you quickly tack on an excuse. “the weather is nice and i... i don’t want to be on my own.”

yes, he does want to go for a walk with you. anything to be with you even if it’s only for a moment longer.

“sure,” he says. “let’s go for a walk.”

“okay. i’ll leave this upstairs and get my jacket.”

he watches as you disappear inside your building, only to reemerge momentarily afterward, a wool jacket draped over your frame. he wishes you’d worn something lighter, just so he could have an excuse to wrap his arm around your shoulders if it gets colder.

you walk side by side around your neighborhood, a distance between your bodies that never used to be there before. it’s strange, of course it is. but minho supposes this is yours and his new reality now.

“how are the cats?” you ask.

“they’re okay. dori had a cold a couple weeks ago, but everything’s fine now,” he tells you. “they... they miss you.”

i miss you too - that's a thought that he doesn’t say out loud, only keeps it to himself because it feels too humiliating to utter those words to you.

“they’re cats. how can you tell?”

“i can always tell.” he shrugs. “they wait by the door when i’m already home. they sleep on your-... they sleep on the other side of the bed.”

if you notice his slip up, you don’t say anything. you purse your lips and nod somberly, stuffing your hands in your pockets. “they’ll forget about me soon enough,” you say.

minho glances at you. he wants to rebuke that statement, to argue with you over something as silly as whether or not his freaking cats will retain their memories of you in the future. but he just bites his tongue and swallows down the lump in his throat, humming to let you know that he’s heard what you said. not a hum of agreement, just one of acknowledgement.

“how’s work?” he asks. god, it’s just so fucking weird to be asking you these things. you know each other inside and out and yet, you’re here making small talk.

torn apart when all you two should be is together.

“it’s alright. still the same, kinda boring. you know there’s not a lot that can happen in that place in one month.”

yes, because it’s been a little over a month since you parted ways, since you moved back into your old apartment and left his home perpetually cold and empty. he can’t blame you for leaving when he was the one who agreed to break up. he can’t blame you for his heartache when he was the one who broke your heart first.

he didn’t mean to, but isn’t that what they all say?

“do you still want to leave?”

“sure,” you reply. “if i can find something better, i’d leave that place in a heartbeat. but for now, it’ll have to do. it used to be a bit more bearable though.”

“i hope you find something that makes you happier.”

“thanks.” you give him a smile but it doesn't reach your eyes. “how about you? how’s life?”

minho almost says the first thing that comes into mind. life is terrible without you. i think about you every single minute of every day but you're not here and it’s my own damn fault.

he could lie and come up with something much more palatable, because he doesn’t reckon his truth is something you’d like to hear right now.

but he doesn’t want to lie to you. in the time that you were together, minho never lied to you, not even once, not even over something stupid and insignificant. beside, he’s got a feeling that you would see through his bullshit anyway.

his answer ends up being a sad shrug, then, “it’s life. i’m hanging in there.”

your footsteps slow until you stop completely. this makes him stop too, turning around to look at you with his head tilted to one side, confused.

“it’s not like you to sound so defeated,” you comment.

“what?” he asks with a sigh. “it’s the truth.”

“it’s not the whole truth.”

“what do you want me to say?”

“i want you to be honest with me,” you tell him, your shoulders slumping just slightly. “i still care about you. i want to know you’re okay.”

minho takes a step closer until he’s right in front of you, the closest that you two have been all night. his body feels the warmth radiating from yours but he has to ball his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and touching you.

“if you really want to know, i haven’t been myself since you left.”

guilt flashes in your eyes. it wasn’t his intention at all.

you bite your bottom lip, inhale a shaky breath, before you speak, “i’m sorry for leaving.”

“don’t apologize. i’m sorry for driving you away.”

then he watches the tears well up as you look at him. he’s been wondering this the whole night, how you seem so cavalier about it all, how you’re able to speak to him so casually as if you’re just old friends with some shared history, and not as though the wound is still fresh. he’s still bleeding and you’re acting like you’ve already healed.

but he sees it now. you’re just as sad as he is, just as miserable. the only difference is you’re better at hiding it, or maybe you’ve just had more time to get used to the way it hurts.

is this how you felt in the weeks, the months, leading up to your departure? every time he neglected you, prioritized something else over you, missed every date and overlooked every text message? every single instance where he was too busy for you?

he never wanted to break your heart, but alas, here you are.

he didn’t want you to go, and yet, when you felt like you couldn’t handle the loneliness anymore, he hadn’t stopped you from walking out the door. he gave up, and he gave up so easily.

nothing along the lines of ‘don’t you dare walk away from me’, no tearful argument, no explosive and definitive end to your relationship. minho just let your love slip away.

how must that have made you feel on top of everything that he did - or didn’t do - to you?

minho has been called every variation of ‘cold’ before. to everyone else, he’s callous, rough, intimidating and unapproachable. but to you, he’s kind, soft, gentle and loving. it never mattered what anyone thought of him, as long as you always knew that he loved you, that you saw him for who he was.

but toward the end, what if you saw him how the others did? what if you had deemed him cold too?

the mere thought makes him sick to his stomach.

you sniffle, wiping at your eyes. “you don’t have to say that. it’s in the past now.”

fracture upon fracture upon fracture. minho doesn’t know how much more of this his heart can take.

his fingers twitch, and before he can stop himself, he’s reaching for your hands. to his surprise, you let him.

your hands, so delicate in his, so warm.

“i should’ve fought harder for you,” he says, his voice so small that you barely catch the words at all.

but his eyes… he hopes you can see it in his eyes - the regret, the longing, the pain of losing you dimming the light of the stars he holds there.

giving his hands a light squeeze, you say, “and maybe i should’ve held on tighter instead of letting go.”

“i made you feel like you weren’t enough. it’s the worst thing i ever did to you. i understand why you left.”

you try to calm your breathing, because you really don’t feel like breaking down in front of him right now. you don’t say anything in response; what are you even supposed to say? you told him everything that you wanted to the night that you two broke up. everything that you tried to bottle up for months was laid on the table that night. you watched as he listened to you, watched as his heart broke alongside yours. that was it.

“i… i’m sorry,” minho stutters, and for the first time since you’ve known him, he looks scared. “i’m sorry. can’t we try again? i swear i won’t let you down again. i swear to you.”

“min…” the nickname slips out of habit and for a second there, minho thinks you would say yes. but then… “i know you’re sorry. i know we didn’t break things off because we fell out of love. but i don’t think you’re at a point in your life where i can be the most important thing right now. you may not mean to, but there’ll be things that you prioritize over me… and i’m not at a place in my life where i can settle for being on someone’s back burner either. the timing’s just off. it’s not your fault, life just got in the way.”

minho stares at you, the stars dying out one by one. the hurt is beyond what any word can describe but in a way, he understands. it fucking sucks, but he gets it. he has to accept it now.

he nods solemnly, tracing odd patterns on your palms. then he asks, quietly, “can i hold you? just for a while.”

please indulge me, he thinks. this is the last thing i’ll ever ask from you.

you don’t reply with words. instead, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into you. you two stay there in each other’s embrace for god knows how long. it could’ve been minutes or it could’ve been hours. you always lose track of time when you’re wrapped up together.

you hold him like he - tough and intimidating minho - is made of glass, and he holds you like he doesn’t ever want to let you go.

but he has to eventually.

you untangle yourself from him to find that he’s been crying. the tears on his cheeks catch the light from the street lamps, reflecting like crystals in the night. when you wipe them away, you tell him, “for once, i was right.”

“about what?” he sniffles.

“you really are a hopeless romantic,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. as much as you can anyway. “i knew you’d prove me right one day.”

minho wants to scoff but his eyes are burning from the tears and his throat feels like it's closing up, so he lets you have this one. the last one, right?

maybe he is a romantic, and maybe it’s only for you. maybe it makes him a little hopeless.

the walk back to yours ends too quickly. but truth be told, even if you had walked together until the sun came up, it still wouldn’t have been long enough for him.

you both stand there, two heavy hearts looking at each other, looking for one another.

there’s no goodbye, only goodnight.

and you’re the one who says it first.

minho returns your sentiment with a choked up voice, a brush of his fingers against yours, and when you finally turn to walk up the steps, his gaze lingers on your retreating figure.

then he calls your name softly. “hey, uhm... i’ll let you know if the scarf turns up, okay?”

you turn back with a knowing smile. it’s still sad, but there’s some faith hidden there.

“i hope it will.”

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 16.01.2024]

[clockwayswrites]

Still feeling restless, have a bit of Bury the Years. Not long after the last scene. -

Dick pressed play and turned his phone around. He watched all three of the others tense up. He didn’t blame them. He knew what it was like to look at that scene. Tim’s eyes flickered restlessly between Bruce, Alfred, and the screen. On screen Jason scowled. “This is stupid.” “Proof of life, you know the drill Jaybird!” Dick said from off camera. Jason snorted and let his head thunk back against the grimy wall. He ran his fingers through the other man’s hair. The guy was asleep on Jay’s chest, worn out after being weary about Dick. “You’re not my kidnapper, Dickhead.” “Damn straight I’m not or you would have been back years ago. Now come on, you know this seems impossible. I can tell it’s you because I’m here in person, but it will be harder to tell on screen. And you know how Bruce is about facts.” Jason’s eyes flashed green, he closed them tightly and buried his face into the other guy’s hair. It was almost a minute before he seemed to gather himself again. “Yeah. Whatever, fine.” “Okay. Come on then, something only you would know that they can prove.” “I… if Alfred hasn’t found it yet… in the east wing, the room that’s done up in greens? I used to hide in that wardrobe when I first got to the manor. Later it was just a space to be, you know? Away from the others. I’d read, mostly. There’d be a few blankets and… ‘A Wild Sheep Chase’, I think?” He gave a little snort and looked away from the camera again. “Guess I won’t fit in there anymore, huh?”

[carlsangel]

LUCKY

carl grimes x reader

(you’re immune.)

tags: angst but then fluff !

masterlist here!

When the apocalypse started you’d lost all your family and were on your own for what felt like ages but you eventually found someone who made you feel safe and her name was Natasha. She was a stranger but she used to be a mother and had lost her son at the start. She’d protected you like you were her own; like you were blood.

She was everything to you, but she left too soon. She was attacked by a walker and you did everything you could. You got bit in the process and got so choked up over the fact you knew you’d die within the next twenty four hours, you let Natasha get swarmed. You ran away as fast as you could, basically sobbing. That night after finding shelter you patiently waited for the infection to take over. You couldn’t take the easy way out, you were too scared. Nothing happened for about two days straight when you realized, you might’ve just been lucky.

Ever since Natasha, you swore to yourself you’d never let anyone you cared for die like that again and you’d make sure of it with your immunity. Granted you could still get ripped to shreds but you knew you’d never let it get that far. Not after seeing what happened to Natasha.

After that, you traveled long and far, eventually finding yourself at a large gated community with a sign at the front that read “Alexandria Safe Zone.” They had let you in very kindly. You struggled to bond with anyone there, most of them had been there since the start and never had true experience in the world around you. Except Carl.

He, to you, was the most normal of all of them; your definition of normal at least. He’d seen it all, his whole group did but he was different from his group. He’d grown up in the apocalypse just like you. It wasn’t just a part of your guys’ lives. It was all you could really remember. It almost makes you feel bad for his baby sister. She’d never know what the world was really like.

So you two grew closer. You’d go out into the woods to ensure you’d never forget. You read comics, listened to music, anything that you could think of. It never occurred to you that maybe you should tell him about your immunity. You hadn’t told anyone before and you knew if you kept bonding like you were then he’d figure it out himself. You didn’t want to take the risk of him telling someone else, you don’t know what would happen to you.

You tried to ignore the topic as much as possible, you only have ever worn long sleeves and did whatever you could to ensure they would never see it. Carl had just assumed you were mostly comfortable that way so he never mentioned it.

One morning the two of you decided to go out to the forest to read. Although you’d heard talks of a horde of walkers that were supposed to travel through that day, you didn’t really listen. The communities horde tracking system wasn’t always accurate as it would usually be a couple days ahead.

You guys walked through the forest, your hands interlocked as you looked for your spot. You approached your fallen log and you settle into the ground as Carl begins to dig through a large black box filled with anything to entertain you both. “What do you wanna read?” He asks, focused on rummaging through the pile of comics. “I’m fine with whatever. Maybe Deadpool if you want.” You reply, also digging through your bag for the pretzels you had packed for you two.

He finds the comic and sits back next to you and you lean into his shoulder while you read. You loved this, reading with him. His presence helped you forget everything you wanted to. Losing your family, watching Natasha die, getting bit. Everything washes away when you’re with him. You focus on the comic for a while until you heard the irritating noise of walkers nearby. You completely forgot the warnings you’d heard this morning.

The both of you stand up and Carl tosses the comic back in the box. You look around to see that there’s a small horde. On a regular day you would go hide in the hallowed tree trunk behind your log but the walkers had already noticed you. “Shit. We’re just gonna have to take them.” You tell him. He pulls his knife from his belt and you do the same, preparing for the next step.

You handle a few, unfortunately not quite easily. Some of the skulls weren’t too soft and also you got quite a bit of blood on you. You handled about six of them, Carl handled 9. There was one final walker that you handled before you two could take a breath. You turn to Carl with a content look, almost proud of the work you accomplished. He nods and you’re interrupted by another walker which seemingly came out of fucking nowhere.

The walker pushes into Carl and your immediate instinct is to pull it off of him. You grab the walker just below its neck and before you know it, its teeth plunge right into your forearm. You didn’t know it but Carl’s heart completely shattered. His eyes went wide and he helped get it off of you. Your knife shoves into its chin and it’s finally dead.

You let it fall to the floor and for some odd reason, tears begin to flow from your eyes. It was too close of a call but you’d survived, Carl had survived. You were relieved; relieved that you’d saved someone from the fate Natasha had faced.

“Y-you’re bit.” He mutters. You look to him and wipe your tears, smiling slightly. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. How could you be smiling? “Why…what’s there to smile about?” He asks, his voice still quiet. You roll your sleeve up from your other arm, showing your old bite wound. He steps closer to see it and he gently runs his fingers over it.

“I-I don’t understand how’s that…” His voice trails off and he looks back to you for any answers.

“It’s from a while ago. I’m immune. I know I should’ve told you earlier but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know what people would do to me.” He looks back down at your arm before his hands move up to your shoulders. “I would never do anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to you.” You nod knowingly and look back at the floor as your tears continue to flow. “Why are you crying? You’re gonna survive.” His hand moves up to wipe your tears off.

“I guess I was just scared of losing you.” You explain. He tilts your chin up to look at you before kissing your forehead, leaning his on yours afterwards.

“You’re not gonna lose me.”

a/n: yall it felt like going to WAR to get this shit out omg i literally couldn’t finish writing it for the life of me bc i’ve been soooo unmotivated BUT I FEEL BETTER NOWWW so i’m down to take even more requests i think i have one left in my inbox that will be worked on today and tmr and will probably be posted tmr :> THANK U ANON FOR THE REQUEST IT WAS PERFECT!!! (sorry for the ending being so shitty fhndnfnfnfn)

[the-fiction-witch]

My Lord Velaryon

Media House of The Dragon

Character Jacaerys Velaryon

Couple Jacaerys X Reader

Rating SMUT

I laid in my warm bed my body at times slithering among the black and red silks and satins of the sheets, I did my best, trying to cling to the land of sleep for just a few moments more, but the hustle and bustle already going on in Dragonstone had forced me to be at least half awake. The sounds of feet on the dark stone on all levels of the castle, the rush of the sea on the stones, the fire crackling away in its place and the dragons gliding around the castle towers. But I did my best to try and cling to sleep in my bed stroking my fingers across the sheets, I heard the sound of a door and footsteps but I just tried to bundle myself closer trying to avoid whatever and whomever it was, 

"Good Morning My Lord Velaryon," her delicate voice speaks up,

I turned over and opened my eyes to see the owner of that sweet voice, she stood by the end of the bed in her soft grey dress, a chain necklace around her neck. Her hair was in a braid down her back and her hands were in front of her stomach with her cheery gentle smile.

"Good Morning, Y/n." I yawned sitting up with a few blinks and stretches trying to wake myself up,

“Good morning,” She gleamed, “your mother has requested your attendance at the meeting this morning around the painted table, and the blacksmith is coming by after the meeting to fit you into your new armour," she explained with her usual warm smile,

I groaned and laid my head back on the pillow, "Do I have to?" I pouted,

"I’m afraid so, My lord Velaryon,"

“Can't I get out of it at all?"

"Would you like some breakfast or a bath first this morning?" She smiled not letting me get away with my whining,

I put the pillow over my head, "I'm not hungry you know I can't eat this early.”

“Well, you can have a bath and then eat,” she smiled taking the pillow away so i was forced to look at her,

“I'm not interested in a bath this morning," I pouted,

"I know, but given your mother's meeting... Would a bath not be wise Jasaerys?" She smiled in her usual encouraging way as she sat on my bed,

"Fine. I'm just not going to enjoy it."

"I shall do my best to make sure you do," she giggled patting my fluffy bedhead of hair before she hopped out of bed and offered her arm, 

For a moment I playfully rolled my eyes, I don't want a bath but I know I don't have a way out of it. I pushed my covers back and took her arm she led me down to the springs so I had no way out of it and she stood preparing one of the hot spring pools for me, the place empty this early. Once the bath was ready, she then smiled and slowly came to me, I held my breath as she stripped off the few of my clothes I’d worn to sleep, doing her best not to look even after all this time. It made me blush a little that she's still so shy watching those sweet Y/e/c eyes as she unlaces my clothes, once I was completely naked blush flooded her cheeks before she moved away, I climbed into the bath mostly to conceal myself. The water was hot and sweet-scented and admittedly it was relaxing. 

"Not too long a bath though just a quick one,"

"I promise I'll be a quick one," She smiled, "Would you like me to go my lord Velaryon?"

“Nothing you haven't seen before Y/n" I laughed half joking, 

She giggled, "I think the view is Exquisite My Lord Velaryon."

I blushed at her calling me exquisite,  She's so cute, I smiled and did my best to just enjoy my bath for a while even if I was missing something so I glared at her a little and she spoke up,

"would you like my help today My Lord or not? I don't want to be a bother I know you're not your most cheery today," she said doing her best not to look but I know she did,

I smirked a bit, "You should know me better by now. Can we skip the pretence, though? I mean, let's be honest. You were always going to "help" me."

"I suppose, I just didn't want to make you more upset, I never like to see you upset My Lord Velaryon," she explained as she came and perched her body on the bath running her gentle fingers through my hair, her hands and the warm water help loosen my muscles even more,

"I appreciate it, Y/n. I do. It's just that some days I would rather just be here with you than deal with everything else, you know?"

"umm, the politics of the realm and the strength of your family, that is something to be proud of, to be so passionate about the pride and glory of your house. perhaps soon things will be calm when the war is over time will be slower and kinder for you jacaerys," she sweetly explained,

Her voice was so gentle and caring but her hands worked slow enough to make it relaxing but fast enough to get her work done to not keep me in the bath too long, she even began to hum a gentle song as her hands washed my hair massaging my scalp a little in a relaxing way like she was itching my brain, it was enough to force a moan from my lips. Her hands continued washing down my body as she often did cleaning me as well as she could,

She giggled as her washing had brought her hands to my hips and she moved to whisper in my ear, "Do I have your permission my lord Velaryon?"

I opened his eyes slowly and looked at her with a slightly sly smirk, "Permission to do what?"

"to clean," she giggled her hand stroking my lower stomach and hips,

I smirked biting my lip a little "You certainly may Y/n. I will vastly enjoy it."

"I like to ask just in case you wish to do so yourself Jacaerys" she giggled,

Her hands cleaned my thighs and hips making sure she got every inch I know she was teasing me about where I so badly wanted her hand, my hard cock sitting up out of the water waiting for her touch, and finally shave gave it her hand soft and gentle making sure not to be too rough that she'd hurt me but also not to slow as to not keep me excited, but not too excited but that wasn't gonna happen, as soon as I felt her hand it send waves through my body, I bit my lip trying to hide my moans as my eyes rolled back

"Oh... Y/n, that feels so good." I groaned, taking my hand out of the bath to hold her hair tugging her closer until I could feel her warm breath on my neck, "Uhhh Yes! Y/n... Ummm harder!"

"I'm glad you're enjoying your bath, my lord Velaryon," she giggled moving harder and faster as I asked her,

I smirked and turned my head kissing her cheek, jaw and throat in my desperation for more,

"Yes jaracerys?" she playfully smiled a little wicked of her,

"You're so beautiful Y/n," I whispered between kisses, "Ummm Your lord wants you."

she blushed,

"You heard me," I growled,

I cupped her cheek and kissed her soft lips which were enough to send shivers down my spine, but I couldn’t wait I kissed her passionately and lustfully heavily making out with her pulling her closer and closer until she sat on my lap one hand on her waist wrapped around her back the other on her cheek rubbing my thumb against her skin, having dragged her completely in my bath with me her dress now heavy and soaked with my bath water, she kisses back happily even if she often giggles shyly.

I had never felt so happy, to feel her body against my own, hold her in my arms, the warm water around us, it felt like a dream.

I began to feel lightheaded just from the thrill of it all so I finally pulled away to her red blushing face looking into those deep Y/E/C eyes I felt... lustful more so than ever, I felt possessive, I felt jealous of the thought of any man on Westeros could ever get the chance to see her the way I do, and all I could do as whisper one single word.

"Mine."

"Pardon My Lord Velaryon?" She blushed rather surprised at my words,

"You are mine. No one else is to have your affection, not like this. Do you understand?" I demanded in a low but quiet tone,

"Of course, I am your handmaiden, My Lord Velaryon, I am yours," she said taking my hand kissing it, It made me smirk to be reminded of it, that she was mine. she belonged to me, she'd do as I asked of her, her body was mine, her neck was mine, and her lips were mine.

"You are mine. and nothing can take you from me?"

"I am yours,jaracerys," she nodded with a sweet smile,

I smirked and pulled on her chain a little "Mine." I whispered,

I smirked kissing and biting all over her skin each kiss hard and fast stealing her breath as I did them, I didn't care her dress was soaked, I didn't care the bath was getting cold, I didn't care about the land, the duties, the house, my meetings, all of that was far away and all that matters is us two.

I groaned, "Ummm Y/n... you have no idea how much I desire you. Just the thought of you being with another man makes me furious. You... you belong to me, and I will do anything to keep you my own." I groaned, "I am your lord."

"I am yours My Lord Velaryon, I am utterly yours, as much your property as your sword or your dragon, you do not need to be furious at the thought of another as I am only yours," She blushed and Giggled slightly she noticed just how sheer her dress has became from the water, and tried to conceal herself with her hands giving her an innocent look,

I stroked down her neck and shoulders, I glide my hands down her soaking dress feeling every inch of her body below it forcing her hands away to see how her mossy green dress now thick with water had turned slightly sheer revealing her body below much better,

"Don't... don't hide yourself from me. If another man were to see you, of course, that would infuriate me, but I don't want you to hide yourself from me. I want to see you, all of you, just like this. You are mine."

"I am your My Lord Velaryon, I just cannot help but be shy" she blushed, Her shyness was so cute but that time was over,

"You should not be shy around me. You should not ever try to hide from me. I am yours, and you are mine. You have nothing to be shy about with me. This is how Your lord wants you. This is how Your lord likes his handmaiden to look."

"In a soaking wet dress?"

"In a soaking wet dress. In nothing. You're beautiful no matter what you wear. Even more so when you're dressed like this. It makes you seem... more... vulnerable..."

"vulnerable?"

"Yes, vulnerable," I whispered milking that word as long as I could, "ummm Your lord likes you vulnerable," I growled, "So beautiful and innocent. So shy. I don't know why I've ever let you wear much clothing at all."

"Jacaerys! Surely you wouldn't want me doing my handmaiden duties in the nude," she teased,

"The thought has crossed my mind." I smirked back, "You would look gorgeous, Ummmm would you do that? would you do it for Your lord?"

"but I'm not sure I'd get much work done My Lord any time I wake up you'd drag me into bed, or if I bent to change the bed you'd throw me over it, I don't think I could even walk across the room without taking your attention from your work"

“I couldn't disagree with you. You're exactly right. Every time you walked near me, I would be on my feet in an instant just to get you off yours. I'd be dragging you behind me into the rooms just so we could be alone." I growled, the longer I let my eyes linger the more I need her, "In fact... nothing is stopping us from doing that now, is there?"

"but your bath jacaerys"

"And why would I need to continue my bath? It was simply an excuse for us to be alone." I smirked, "I have what I was hoping for. You're here, I have your attention. Don't you want to please me?"

"but you have the grand meeting this afternoon," she playfully says,

"I do. but it can wait." I smirked, "I'm afraid you have no choice, my innocent handmaiden."

"yes My Lord Velaryon" she nodded, climbing out of the bathtub and peeling off her soaked dress leaving her exposed completely with nothing but her chain around her neck, immediately I groaned biting my lip and trying not to moan as she slipped her dress off revealing her bare back, bare thighs and bare ass still with a mark from my teeth marks in it a few nights ago, she giggled and she turned back to face me her hands Innocently behind her back as she revealed her breasts slightly jiggling as she moved and her glistening pussy, she stood far enough from the bath I couldn't reach her, "does this please you My Lord Velaryon?" She cooed in her most innocent of tones,

"UMmmmm! Ohh Y/n! Yes... yes, it does please me. Turn around. And keep your back to me." I demanded she did as I asked turning to have her back to me I immediately got out of my bath and went over pressing my body against her running my hands all over her as I kissed her neck, stroking her pussy, fondling her breasts, her ass, running my fingers up her waist,

"Yes jacaerys?" she smiled wickedly over her shoulder,

"Ummm Your lord wants you." I groaned grabbing her necklace and pulling it hard so much her hands gripped around it in front of her throat as I pulled it back hard like I was pulling on her hair, "Now." I demanded in her ear,

"Yes, my lord."

I smirked and let her chain go before I turned her to face me and gave her a passionate kiss as I lifted her up under her ass and took her back to my chambers.

Masterlist Of Jacaerys Velaryon

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!” 

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.” 

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?” 

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.” 

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things … 

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it. 

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.” 

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?” 

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor. 

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you. 

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others. 

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.” 

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?” 

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.” 

“And the other?” 

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.” 

Your eyes go big. ��Oh.” 

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.” 

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.” 

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high. 

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you. 

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?” 

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours. 

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench. 

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.” 

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?” 

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?” 

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you. 

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?” 

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“ 

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?” 

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much. 

Much, much too much. 

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.” 

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way. 

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins. 

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything! 

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other. 

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …? 

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends. 

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it. 

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares. 

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.” 

More silence. More staring. 

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking. 

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.” 

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know. 

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present. 

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“ 

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line. 

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would. 

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?” 

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.  

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?” 

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for. 

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.” 

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it. 

This was really working. 

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this. 

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this. 

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer. 

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet. 

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’” 

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.” 

Ah. So your suspicions were correct. 

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.” 

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation. 

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?” 

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you. 

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way. 

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?” 

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice. 

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say. 

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!” 

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet. 

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all. 

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done. 

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!” 

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle. 

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread. 

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!” 

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.” 

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!” 

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you. 

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!” 

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!” 

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.” 

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax. 

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash. 

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.” 

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm. 

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way. 

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist. 

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream! 

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay? 

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek. 

“Why did you do that to him?” 

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?” 

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.” 

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?” 

“I care about you too.” 

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!” 

“But it’s true.” 

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.” 

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office. 

“You think?” 

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.” 

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!” 

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.” 

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.” 

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it. 

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold. 

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?” 

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath. 

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant. 

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream. 

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet. 

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him. 

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm. 

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow. 

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath. 

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it. 

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank. 

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.” 

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath. 

“Move your hand.” 

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance. 

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.” 

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs. 

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed. 

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?” 

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning. 

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”  

Another nod, even more wild than the last. 

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.” 

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!” 

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor. 

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing. 

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?” 

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face. 

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?” 

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back … 

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?” 

“Y - yes …” 

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.” 

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours. 

“What’s going to happen to him now?” 

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple. 

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.” 

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?” 

“Lovely girl - -“ 

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later. 

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him. 

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet. 

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit. 

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him. 

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process. 

Or maybe you could try touching him? 

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to. 

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position. 

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t! 

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?” 

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.” 

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on. 

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt. 

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?” 

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.” 

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless. 

“Would it really fit inside me?” 

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes. 

“W - what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.” 

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it. 

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.” 

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable. 

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you. 

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?” 

“Very much so.” 

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation. 

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him. 

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?” 

“More than I’d like to admit.” 

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?” 

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.” 

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.” 

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency. 

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce. 

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!” 

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl. 

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.” 

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close. 

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!” 

Swat!  

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now. 

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore. 

Swat! 

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice. 

Swat! 

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home. 

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs. 

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head. 

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were. 

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.” 

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle. 

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion. 

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“ 

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.” 

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today. 

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and … 

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept? 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.” 

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst. 

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?” 

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished! 

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?” 

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.” 

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him. 

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.” 

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?” 

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.” 

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …” 

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.” 

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?” 

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.” 

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.” 

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about? 

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“ 

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.” 

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about? 

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?” 

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet. 

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.” 

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.” 

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod. 

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.” 

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.” 

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well. 

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again. 

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?” 

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?” 

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.” 

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers. 

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …” 

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest. 

“Who wrote this one?” 

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?” 

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.” 

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.” 

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!” 

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.” 

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?” 

“Hm … I suppose it would.” 

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“ 

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.” 

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you. 

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?” 

“No, your grace. I am only resting.” 

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.” 

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?” 

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?” 

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!” 

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.” 

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit. 

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?” 

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.” 

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?” 

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?” 

“Only six.” He confirms. 

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.” 

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap? 

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.  

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?” 

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple. 

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.” 

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?” 

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.” 

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?” 

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?” 

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.” 

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.” 

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available … 

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space. 

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but … 

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation. 

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.” 

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?” 

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?” 

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.” 

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.” 

“Then let’s find out.” 

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance. 

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick … 

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.” 

“… yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this. 

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it. 

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction. 

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.” 

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. 

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it. 

“… two, sir.” 

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.” 

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that … 

Whap! 

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush. 

“Ooh … three, sir …” 

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?” 

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.” 

“It could be.” 

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?” 

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.” 

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine. 

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …” 

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …” 

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.” 

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?” 

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.” 

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it. 

“F - five, sir …” 

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.” 

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him. 

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again.  “I’m ready, sir.” 

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air. 

Whap! 

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you. 

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.” 

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for? 

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed. 

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail. 

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?” 

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!” 

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …” 

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you. 

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them. 

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?” 

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole. 

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan. 

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up! 

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!” 

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again. 

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder. 

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?” 

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight. 

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it. 

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him. 

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace. 

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom. 

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks. 

Up against his hand, back against his cock. 

His hand, his cock. 

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock. 

The coil snaps. Just like that. 

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time. 

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too. 

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time. 

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet. 

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.” 

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.” 

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it. 

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort. 

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.” 

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze. 

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?” 

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart … 

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.” 

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.” 

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself? 

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint. 

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.” 

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[ramblingoak]

Hello! I apologize if you don’t take requests btw but if you do , do you think you can write head cannons of what the papas would do for their s/o with Covid when you can? <3(I totally didn’t js find out that I had Covid 😀) again super sorry if u don’t take requests!🖤

Hey! I hope you are feeling much much better. Apologies this took a bit to finish. I ended up getting Covid last week myself so clearly karma got me for taking too long xD. This did end up being more for readers that are just kind of sick in general but I hope you still enjoy the little drabble I did for each Papa 💙

Warnings: short and sweet, pretty fluffy and fairly silly, there are some suggestive comments but these are mostly sfw, readers are all gender neutral, not beta read so pls ignore any mistakes

Mayo Rub ~ Primo x GN!Reader

“Are you going to be grumpy about this the whole time I’m sick?”  Primo scoffed and continued to aggressively turn the pages in his gardening magazine.  “Well?”

“You are mistaken, I’m not grumpy about anything.”

“Then why are you pouting over pictures of tulips?”

“They’re not tuli–”  Primo stopped abruptly, roughly closing his magazine and getting up from the couch.  When he glanced over your way you raised an eyebrow at him.  “They’re lilies.”

“Fine, lilies.”  You took a moment to cough into your elbow, knowing that he was now frowning because it had been getting progressively worse as the day had worn on.  “But you admit that you’re pouting.”

“Why must you be so difficult?”  When you couldn’t answer right away due to another coughing fit he wandered over to the bed, wringing his hands with worry.  “Fogliolina, I’m only trying to help.”

He was ready with your bottle of water when you were able to look up, meeting his concerned gaze sheepishly.  With a shrug you took the bottle from him, taking a deep drink to try and soothe your throat before attempting to answer.

“The store bought stuff is working fine.”  You ignored his muttered ‘clearly’ and pressed on,  “Look I just don’t buy into the…you know.”  Primo raised his eyebrow as you wiggled the fingers of one hand in his direction.  “Plant magic.”

“It’s not magic, my little leaf.”  The unspoken ‘idiota’ hung between you but you decided to be gracious and ignore it.  “They are natural remedies that have been used for hundreds, no, thousands of years!”

“Fine.  If I let you work some of your plant magic will you stop pouting?”

“It’s not–”  He took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out through his nose before continuing.  “SÍ, I will stop pouting.”

“Alright then, have at it.”  Primo gave you a pleased smile before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, bringing his hand up to press against the warm skin his lips just touched.  When he muttered something under his breath in Italian and turned away you grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him back.  “Fogliolina?”

“Just promise not to rub mayonnaise or whatever on my chest.”

“Che cazzo?  Why wou–nevermind.”  

You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing at the impressively annoyed look on his face.  He took a deep breath before shooting you a look that usually either predicated a lecture or him demanding you remove your clothes.  Unfortunately you knew that right now it meant the former.  You decided to go easy on the man that was about to work his…whatever on you.

“I love you Primo.”

“As you should.”  The both of you shared a smile before he clapped his hands together and turned back to head out the bedroom door.  “Sit tight fogliolina, I’ll be back with the mayonnaise in just a few moments.”

Your laughter quickly brought on another coughing fit but you waved him away when he looked back at you.  

“Go!  Get your potions old man, I’ll still be here.”

“I’m going to make sure of it, my little leaf, don’t you worry.”

Secret Ingredient ~ Secondo x GN!Reader

“Is it salt?”

You hid your face in the neck of the sweater you had borrowed.  The fabric was soft and warm, with the bonus of smelling like the man it belonged to.  Secondo let out an aggrieved sigh from where he was standing over the stove before turning around with an eyebrow raised.

“Salt?  Really?” 

“Fancy salt?”

“SÌ, the secret ingredient of the chicken noodle soup recipe passed down through my mother’s family for generations is fancy salt.”  He gave you a little smile when he caught you pouting.  “Would you like a taste, dolcezza?”

“Yes, please.” 

Secondo got a spoonful and blew on it as he walked over to the kitchen table.  He held it to your lips with great care, watching the expression on your face change as you tasted it.  When you gave him a pleased smile he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You feel a little warm again, would you like to lay down?”

“No, no I’m fine.  I want to stay out here with you.”  That earned you another kiss before he turned and went back to the stove.  You licked the taste of the soup off your lips before taking another guess.  “Rosemary?”

“That’s not much of a secret, dolcezza.”

“Parsley?”

“Parsley is a necessity, certainly not l’ingrediente segreto.”  

“Ok fine, how about Primo’s parsley?”

Secondo chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled two bowls from a cupboard and started to fill them with the soup he’d labored over almost all afternoon.  You had been stuck between desperately wanting him close because you felt bad but also not wanting him to get sick.  When you’d tried to explain this he had gone on about some nonsense of the Emeritus line having strong constitutions and rarely becoming ill.  Whatever.  You’d remember his speech the next time he was whining over a cold.

“All of the ingredients are from Primo’s gardens, as you know.”  

He set your bowl down in front of you before taking a seat himself.  You let yourself get distracted for a bit looking at his exposed forearms.  It was one of the reasons you enjoyed watching him cook.  He’d roll up his sleeves and you’d get to daydream about his arms while he worked.  Your eyes finally looked up from staring at the dark hair covering his skin to find him smirking at you.  

“Get over yourself.”  He knocked his foot against yours under the table and you flashed him a smile before bringing a spoonful to your lips.  Like most everything he made it tasted amazing.  You let out a delighted little hum before taking another guess.  “Basil?”

“Again, not a secret.”

You frowned down at your bowl as you tried to think of what was so damn secret about his soup.  He had even refused to tell Copia earlier when he’d come by asking for the recipe.  It had to be something extremely uncommon for him to be so weird about it.  But he always got a little weird when he was making you something special, especially if it was an old recipe of his mother’s.  Secondo always took such great care when he recreated them, like he was pouring his love for his mother into them as he worked…oh.  You reached across the table and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently when he looked at you.

“I love you too, Secondo.”

“What?”

“What do you mean ‘what’?”  When he didn’t elaborate you pulled your hand away and crossed your arms over your chest.  “The secret ingredient.  It’s love.”

“Love isn’t an ingredient.”

“Yes it is.”

“No dolcezza, it isn’t.”

“I bet your mother would agree with me.”

Secondo snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved his chair closer to yours.  It was close enough he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and tuck you close to his side.  After placing a few kisses into your hair he pulled away and cupped your cheek.

“I have no doubt that if my mother was still here you and her would run circles around me.”

“Just admit it.  I promise I won’t tell anyone.”  When he didn’t say anything you grinned, his silence was all the confirmation you needed.  “It’s love.”

“It’s paprika.”

Satan Magic ~ Terzo x GN!Reader

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Terzo groaned, muttering under his breath as he pulled you closer to his chest.

“This is my church I can be wherever I want.”

“Oh your church, huh?”  You dug an elbow into his gut, grinning when he swore in Italian.  “Besides, you know what I mean.”

“SÌ, sÌ.  I know.”  He shoved a leg in between yours and rubbed his cold foot along your skin, holding you tighter when you tried to wiggle away.  “Ai!  Quit it, I'm trying to help.”

“How are your freakishly cold feet supposed to help me?”

“You have to warm them up first.”

“Satan’s dick, Terzo.”  A fit of coughing came over you then and you tried to ignore how nice it was to have Terzo’s hand rubbing your back as your body shook.  It took you a moment to catch your breath and you sniffled as you shamelessly pressed back against his warm chest.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“How many times must I say this?  I don’t get sick.”  

“I seem to remember a few days last year that you were definitely sick and whining in this bed just like me.”

“Those were allergies and completely different.”

“Whatever you say Papa.”

His chest vibrated against your back when he groaned.

“Don’t talk like that right now, it’s not fair.”  You giggled as you pushed back against him, trying to get as close as possible.  He was so warm, it was exactly what you needed right now.  Terzo tightened his arms around your waist for a moment before pressing his lips against your ear.  “Would you like to hear a secret?”

“Always.”  

“It’s because I’m a Papa that I don’t get sick.”

You frowned, turning your head to the side to look at him as best you could.

“What?”

“My family line has been blessed by Lucifer himself.  It is not often that an Emeritus falls ill.”

“But he’ll let you suffer through allerg–hey!”  

He got another elbow in the gut after he pinched your hip and you both wrestled a bit under the blankets.  Terzo managed to turn you so that your chests were pressed together and you took advantage of the new position to tuck your face into his neck.  Your nose was severely stuffed up but you could still smell his cologne and it was so good you let your body go limp in his arms.

“Don’t worry about me, eh?  I want to be close to you, to take care of you.”

“Alright, fine.  I just hope your Satan magic protects you from this.”

Terzo snorted and started to card his fingers through your hair.  It didn’t take long before the soothing movement helped you begin to drift off.  You felt his lips against your temple and you smiled, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.

It was unfortunate that it was the exact moment he sneezed into your face.

Stolen Soup ~ Copia x GN!Reader

Copia always got a little anxious when you were sick. 

It was part hating that you felt bad at all and also part him not wanting to catch what you had.  He hated getting sick and was always the worst patient.  In contrast you generally preferred to be left alone.  All you wanted to do was sleep and unfortunately you just found yourself getting irritated when Copia kept bugging you. 

“Copia I’m fine!  I just want to sleep.”  Oh here we go, the pout.  You groaned, rolling your eyes as you fell back onto the pillows.  “You’ve got better things to do anyway.”

“The only thing I need to do right now is take care of you.”  He had that stubborn look on his face, the one he gave Imperator when it was time to ask for a bigger costume budget.  “Amore, please?  Let me make sure you’re going to be alright.  Would you do this for your Papa?”

You could never win in a battle against that dopey look on his face so you just huffed and nodded your head.  His dazzling smile would be worth listening to him gloat later when he claimed it was only through his care you survived at all.  Copia began to hum to himself as he grabbed the big tote bag he came in with, quickly pulling things out and setting them at the foot of the bed. 

“What’s all this?”

“Ah, well I stopped by Primo’s for some salve to rub on your chest,”  You snorted when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.  “He also gave me some tea that will help your throat.  Secondo had some of his homemade soup in his fridge so I brought that as well.”

“Does Secondo know you took his soup?”  

“I left a note, he’ll get over it.”  

There was definitely no way Secondo would get over it but you decided to let it go.  When Copia started pulling some books out you sat up again and reached out for one. 

“I don’t think I have the energy to read right now.”  You ran your fingers over the worn cover of the book, flipping it open and seeing a short passage written in Italian on the first page.  “What does this say?”

“It’s a note to Terzo.”  Copia walked around the bed and gently took the book from you.  “From his mother.”

“Oh, Copia, maybe you should take it back.  I don't want anything to happen to it.”

“No no, this is what the book is for.  Sick days.”  He gave you a warm smile, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, muttering something about taking your temperature.  “Terzo’s mother read this to him when he was a child and then Terzo used to read this to me.”

“So now it’s my turn?”

He looked over at you with a fond smile, his hands full of remedies and stolen soup. 

“Si amore, now it’s your turn.”

My Masterlist

My Archive of Our Own

Thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet with the Italian help 💙

[forgeofthenine]

*bangs fist on table chanting* TIEFLING WEDDINGS TIEFLING WEDDINGS

likeeee c’mon. Dammon crafting his own wedding bands. Rolan being a bride I’ll more so than his actual bride. Zealot wearing his hellrider uniform like in a military wedding.

horn jewelry every, little tiny tiefling kids throwing flowers around, tails wrapped around their partner during the ceremony!!!!

don’t even get me started on cute ass tiefling traditions (which like there is absolutely no lord about tiefling weddings so we are free to make our own. it’s decided.)

i’m in pain

Anon, I have had brainrot about this idea since I first saw it, I had to go share it with my flatmate who knows nothing about the game I was so obsessed.

I feel like tiefling weddings are huge community events, they take months of planning and preparation. On the actual day everyone gets together to either help prepare the venue or to help the two getting married prepare themselves. There's lots of jewellery involved and it takes some time to get all dressed up.

The couple getting married get absolutely decked out in horn and tail jewellery, lots of rings and chains and ribbons in pretty colours. You basically jingle with every step you take, and there's a noticeable weight on your head and tail from all the metal and gemstones. I feel like pieces of wedding jewellery get passed through generations too, you might wear a tail circlet that was worn by four generations before you.

The clothes involved are extravagant too, there's so much fabric involved. Women wear layered skirks that flare when they spin and dance and men wear wrapped and layered tops that take so much effort you'll only see them at weddings. It's all so bright and vividly dyed too, with metallic embroidery and hand sewn beading making beautiful designs.

In terms of our bachelors, Dammon absolutely forges your wedding bands himself, and even puts a little engraving on the inside of each. He'd be quite relaxed before the ceremony and is the type of guy to take both of your hands and wrap his tail around yours as you both stand before everyone.

Rolan is a bit of a bridezilla, but it's mostly out of his anxiety that something will go wrong. Luckily, Cal and Lia keep him in line for the most part. They're also the main two that help him get ready on the day and are the very first to congratulate the happy couple once the ceremony is done.

Zevlor absolutely wears his hellrider uniform, no doubt about it. He cuts a fine figure too, standing there at full attention in all his regalia. Once the ceremony is over I feel like he'd be the type to want to dance the night away with you, this is the only chance he had to give you the perfect wedding so he tries his absolute hardest.

I still have so many other ideas, like what these men would be like for the wedding night and stuff. I just absolutely love the thought of these big, happy tiefling weddings.

[brucebocchi]

Spring 2024 anime, Pt. 1: Ongoing/returning shows and the bench

yo! i also post this on my ko-fi! this is very much a labor of love, so if you liked what i wrote consider throwing a few bucks my way! thanks!

And we are back! This one came a little later because I'm much busier now than I was three months ago, but that's a good thing. It'll be a bit longer before I cover last season's new anime, so bear with me. I'm happy to say, though, that I didn't hate anything I watched this season! So there's that.

As always, the OP is linked in the title of each show. Check them out, there were some good ones this season!

Here we go:

Continuing & returning shows:

Delicious in Dungeon, second cour

Ahh, Dungeon Meshi. At the start of my review of its debut cour, I said that Dungeon Meshi is a difficult anime for me to talk about unprompted because it’s such a complete, self-assured work that saying anything about it besides “PLEASE WATCH THIS ANIME IT’S SO FUCKING GOOD” feels like a fait accompli. After twelve more episodes and spending the better part of a weekend binging the entire manga, I’m left with little else to say besides please watch this anime (and read the manga), it’s so fucking good.

Our adventuring party has managed to slay (and cook) the red dragon and resurrect Falin from its belly, but the victory came at a cost: They have managed to not only invoke the ire of the dungeon’s ruler, the “lunatic magician” Thistle, but Marcille’s use of forbidden resurrection magic has also raised another number of hackles. Reunions aren’t all happy ones and the dungeon is getting weirder.

This line break represents where I wanted to add so much more and just kept falling short. This continues to be an exceptional adaptation of an exceptional manga. For all the silly gags, for all the goofy potshots everyone takes at each other, Dungeon Meshi is a series with a beating heart worn permanently on its sleeve. The group dynamic remains superb, and no less so for the standoffish half-girl-half-cat Izutsumi joining the gang (my joy at seeing her added to the OP was indescribable). The ways in which everything interconnects make up only a fraction of this series’ unmatched worldbuilding; much hay has been made about how Ryoko Kui designed the dungeon as a living, breathing ecosystem, but there’s so much more of that within the human element as well, and the latter aspect looks to only improve when the show returns for the next season.

Dungeon Meshi is, without question, the best anime of 2024 so far, and I will be impressed if anything manages to overtake it in this year’s latter half. The manga became one of my favorites in record time, and I have little doubt that by the end of the second (and almost certainly final) season, one of my favorite anime of all time will indeed be Dungeon Meshi. Ahh, Dungeon Meshi.

KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

When I reviewed last year’s Megumin-centric spinoff, I mentioned that I’m not quite as high on KonoSuba as other anime fans. I always thought it was a perfectly serviceable comedy isekai, nothing too special, but mostly worth the watch. Even after the letdown that was An Explosion on this Wonderful World! last year, I was still looking forward to the long-overdue third season. And pretty much as expected, what we got was fine. Just fine.

That said, I was instantly delighted to see Megumin once again surrounded by Kazuma, Aqua, and Darkness. And as is frequently the case when those four are together, shit goes south fast. Kazuma, hoping to heal the mental wounds he incurred in the Legend of Crimson film, gets his groove back when he’s invited to regale the adorable Princess Iris with tales of his exploits. As a noble herself, Darkness is mortified throughout this ordeal, scrambling to ensure that Kazuma doesn’t get beheaded for being a loudmouthed freak, and also that Aqua and Megumin don’t accidentally burn the palace down in their revelry. 

KonoSuba gets a lot of comparisons to It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, in that both are ensemble comedies in which the entire main group consists of awful people who don’t entirely like or trust one another. It’s a fair enough comparison, but what makes the group dynamic work for both shows is that the moral center is never a fixed point; the “voice of reason” among either group changes along with the situation to ensure the comedy stays fresh. And the fact that Lalatina Dustiness goddamn Ford has to be the voice of reason for the majority of this season should mortify you.

Darkness losing her mind aside, I didn’t really care for this arc. There was some interesting worldbuilding happening toward the middle of the season, but Kazuma acting way too eager about having a tiny, prepubescent girl calling him “onii-chan” just made my skin crawl, and I’m otherwise pretty much immune to the bog-standard “hey, laugh at this man because he’s a pervert” anime trope at this point. Fortunately, it only lasted for half the season, but unfortunately, it still felt an episode or two too long. The second half of the season followed Darkness’ forced betrothal to a gross noble from an earlier episode, and that arc also felt an episode or two too long.

Season 3 felt like KonoSuba both at its best and worst. The character dynamics are as rich as ever, even as Aqua and Megumin largely fell to the margins in favor of the larger stories. The smaller moments with the main four just bumming around their mansion are always just as entertaining as their larger exploits. The narrative seems to want to continue pushing Kazuma and Megumin together, nurturing the seeds planted in the movie, but later episodes also make a pretty good case for Kazuma and Darkness getting together; for better and for worse, those two absolutely match one another’s freak. Some of the gags this season were pretty darn good as well: This anime’s facials are already the stuff of legend, and we got some bangers here too (see above). For as loud as it often got, there were a few gags that centered on prolonged, uncomfortable silences like a late episode of Evangelion. And for as bored as I started to grow with the last arc, the punchline at the very end of the season almost made the whole thing worth it.

On the other hand, this show somehow got noisier. Some of Explosion’s funnier moments last year came from Megumin’s shrieking outbursts, so Studio Drive (taking over the main series from Deen) seemed to think that everyone needed to yell all the time now. It felt jarring; like watching season 4 of SpongeBob for the first time. I’m also not impressed by the fact that this series still seems to think sexual assault is just the funniest when it happens to men. It was a serious lowlight of the Legend of Crimson movie, and it just seemed to double down this time for a completely unnecessary segment in which Kazuma helps Dust get back at a creep, only for it to backfire on Dust and only on Dust. That shit sucks!

At the same time, it’s still KonoSuba, so ESH. If you made it this far, you’re pretty much along for the ride until it breaks down, so you take the good with the bad. Neither particularly outweighs the other, nor are they enough to push me towards declaring this show as either essential or unwatchable. It’s KonoSuba, and KonoSuba is fine.

Laid-Back Camp, season 3

The reigning champion of Cute Girls Doing Cute Things anime returns to the present day after the 10-years-later film, and it’s in fighting shape. Though the third season of Yuru Camp (another anime I refuse to call by its official English title) is in the hands of a new studio, it’s still full to bursting with all the gorgeous countryside scenery, tantalizing food porn, and whimsical music you’ve come to expect by now.

This is one that was on my backlog for the better part of a couple years, so I figured there was no better time to catch up than to time it with a new season hitting the air. Through two seasons and an original movie, Yuru Camp was peak slice-of-life: Low on conflict, heavy on cuteness, and brimming with personality. It does what it says on the tin; it’s a show about high school girls going camping, and by God are you getting high school girls going camping. And in the meantime, you, the viewer, get to learn the ins and outs of camping while discovering all these real-life, lovely spots along the Japanese countryside with Mt. Fuji always in view, and maybe help boost the local tourism economies once you go outside and touch grass.

The previous two seasons largely followed the girls’ exploits at school and out in the open as individuals and smaller groups before building to a big destination trip with all five of them, but season 3 takes a more, uh, laid-back approach. The first half follows Rin’s bike trip along with Nadeshiko’s hometown bestie, Ayano, until they meet up with Nadeshiko after her own solo excursion. We also get a quick peek at a heavily-fictionalized retelling of Chiaki, Aoi, and Ena’s outing with Toba-sensei, as well as a cherry blossom viewing trip with Nadeshiko and her sister, before the girls all come together once more for a nighttime hanami outing. It’s more of the same, and that’s exactly what you’re here for.

That said, the character work is the glue that holds Yuru Camp together, and it’s as wonderful as ever. Rin and Nadeshiko’s friendship remains a delight, and Hazel covered it better and more succinctly than I ever could in the Yuru Camp segment in her phenomenal video on countryside scenery in anime. Watching Rin bond with Ayano one-on-one on their own trip was a real highlight; they’d hit it off quickly in the first season, and it was lovely seeing Ayano working at Rin’s go-to bike shop in the movie, so I was overjoyed to see more of these two. More than anything, though, seeing a habitual loner like Rin connect so naturally with another person (and one who isn’t Nadeshiko, no less) just warms my cold, dead heart. The looser plotting also gives us the time and space to take in how the girls individually spend their downtime. Nadeshiko’s quickly becoming as much of an expert solo traveler as Rin, and her youthful enthusiasm about everything remains as endearing as ever. We even get to watch her becoming a train nerd in real time! 

At the same time, the communal aspect of camping is a huge part of what makes this show click. Part of that, of course, has been watching Rin’s social circle expanding, but also in seeing how readily campers observe and aid one another. Nobody is “the best” at camping (except maybe Rin’s granddad), so none of the campers in this show have any reservations about going out of their way to help one another. Even an expert solo camper like Rin was a greenhorn at one point, so she’s always happy to give and receive help. The various campers the girls run into along their journeys are always ready with local information about good spots to eat, relax, and take in a good view as well. Even camping on your own, you’re never truly alone.

In that same vein, Yuru Camp is as educational as ever. Along the girls’ travels, we learn plenty about the myriad suspension bridges over the Oi River drainage basin, the various types of passenger trains connecting the countryside, torii gates along the mountains, and clever ways to build a camping menu around local crops. Yes, Yuru Camp is as much food porn as it is nature porn, and the dishes are sumptuous. On that note, my favorite thing I learned this season came from Nadeshiko’s drooling outbursts during the other OutClub girls’ camp retelling: It turns out that there’s an equivalent Japanese colloquialism to what we call food porn, specifically in the act of taunting people about delicious food they can’t have right now, and that is “meshitero,” or “food terrorism.” That is just terrific.

Yuru Camp is in the hands of a new studio for its third season, and the difference is mostly negligible. This is a show that trades largely in vibes, and the vibes remain impeccable. Almost everything still looks and sounds great, but season 3 leans a little more heavily on CG for moving bikes and cars, and they do look markedly worse. Not immersion-shattering, but definitely distracting. The scenery largely looks less hand-painted in favor of a more photorealistic style, which does make me wonder about the actual level of artistry put into it, but that could just be me splitting hairs. Otherwise, it still looks like Yuru Camp, which is all you can ask for.

This show still rules though. I don’t often get intense in my praise of slice-of-life anime, and the ones that get me acting like that are the ones that go to wild lengths for the sake of a joke, like Nichijou and Kaguya-sama. I don’t know what it is about a show as lowkey as Yuru Camp that has me wanting to scream from the rooftops that “THIS FUCKING SHOW WHIPS ASS,” but I’m not questioning it. Maybe it’s cuteness aggression.

Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

And we’re back with more of the best-made anime that I can’t recommend in good faith to just about anyone.

The latter half of season 2 surrounds Rudeus’ aims for a quiet domestic life, settling down with Sylphiette and at the request of his father, Paul, taking his little sisters Aisha and Norn into their home (along with a very welcome reunion with their escort). Aisha takes after her mother, Lilia, and is eager to please and help around the house, but Norn’s last memory of Rudeus is of his violent reunion with their father. Norn idolizes Paul, so she doesn’t trust Rudeus and refuses to open up to him. While Aisha is content with working around the house, Norn wants to keep her distance, so she decides to enroll and board at the magic academy.

Norn’s apprehension towards Rudy and the mental anguish it causes her becomes an isolating factor in her daily life, leading Rudeus to believe that she’s being bullied, much as he was in his previous life. Rudy’s attempts at sticking up for his sister fall flat and lead him to realize he’s been projecting on her this entire time rather than actually reaching out to her. It’s these moments of learning and unlearning that nearly make all of this worth it; this was easily one of the best episodes of Mushoku Tensei’s second season, and frankly one of the best episodes of anime I watched all season. Another episode near the end also earned that distinction, but it got weird afterwards. Even in its lower moments, this season traded very well in the themes of family, growth, and loss, and those aren’t always tidy subjects to handle.

Because this is Mushoku Tensei, the cozy home life can’t last forever. Paul’s attempts at saving his wife have continued to fall short, so he calls on Rudeus and Elinalise to come and help rescue Zenith. Rudeus is conflicted; though he finally has the opportunity to save his mother and face his father as a man, Sylphie is now pregnant and he doesn’t want to abandon his wife and future child. As often happens at times like this, Rudy gets some face time with the Man-God who has been seemingly invested in his journey, and for once Rudy flouts his advice to venture out. Many reunions are had, including one that had been teased all season, and a lot of things go south from there. I was spoiled on some of what would happen in later parts of the series, so it didn’t come as a massive shock to me, but it still got weird, it wasn’t really addressed all that well, and people were rightfully put off by it.

On that note, I’ve given up on the idea of this series being about Rudeus improving as a person, because he’s done just about as much “improving” as he’s going to by now. As I’ve said before, he’s not quite the drooling pervert he used to be (he was actually doing great for more than half of this cour before a succubus attack briefly got the better of him), but his moral compass, even in his best moments, still seems to be poorly calibrated. I do see a side of him now that genuinely cares for others and actively wants to help, but it doesn’t erase his questionable acts, nor do I get any sense that he deserves to get the things he wants. I particularly don’t care for what’s already looking like a formula wherein sex seems to be his cosmic reward whenever he hits a low point or achieves something great. For a series that genuinely has such excellent worldbuilding and storytelling, that part feels cheap enough to undermine everything else.

But hey, a rapist died, so it’s not all bad.

I’m not sure I’d necessarily put Mushoki Tensei on the level of Frieren or Dungeon Meshi, certainly not thematically, but with all three off the air this upcoming Summer season, it’s been a minute since we’ve had a season of anime without one of those three lovingly-made fantasy series on the air. It feels like anime has a massive fantasy void now, and I desperately hope I’m proven wrong soon.

Urusei Yatsura (2022), season 2, second cour

The final run of the remade Urusei Yatsura ended on a strong note with an honest-to-God story arc! Lum and Ataru’s tempestuous situationship is put into stark relief with the fate of the world in the balance, except not really; Lum just wants him to think that because she’s fed up with his shit and that’s just how she operates.

Even as disjointed as this run has been prior to the final arc, there were still some gems this season. The time-travel segment where the gang tries to undo Mendo’s fear of the dark was a certified banger, Asuka’s violent androphobia is as funny as ever, and the introduction of Nagisa as a means of further muddying Ryunosuke’s whole gender situation was the most quintessentially Rumiko Takahashi shit I’ve ever seen. It’s the character comedy that makes Urusei Yatsura what it is just as much as the central will-they-won’t-they, and it was just as potent as always before the series hurtled towards its finale.

The four-episode arc to close out the all-stars run, similarly to the final arc of the manga and the final movie of the original anime run, centers on a blowup between our romantic leads over a colossal misunderstanding (sasuga Takahashi-sensei) involving a unilaterally-fated marriage between Lum and the prince of a dark planet, Rupa. Though Ataru and fellow dark-planeter Karula (basically Rupa’s own equivalent Lum) foil the wedding, a carbon copy of Lum created to ensure a proper exchange of vows tells Ataru that she’s over him. Ataru’s feelings are genuinely hurt, and he tells the real Lum that they’re through, and he returns to Earth with Karula, accidentally spreading spores of the dark planet’s enormous mushrooms.

Said mushrooms rapidly grow enormous when exposed to sunlight, so Earth is already in certain danger. Lum sees an opportunity to manipulate convince Ataru to finally get serious, so she sets familiar stakes: She’ll enlist Rupa’s help in destroying the mushrooms, but only if Ataru can beat her in a ten-day game of tag by grabbing her horns, just like when they first met. More importantly, though, she’ll let it all go if he can just say out loud that he loves her. And you know damn well by now that these two are both as stubborn as they come.

As I’ve said before, this is a shorter run, so we may not have the benefit of the entirety of Urusei Yatsura up to this point to be properly salivating for the finale, but I’ll be damned if it didn’t still hit like a freight train. The emotional climax was still meaty and satisfying in ways that made all of this worth it. Half of the joke of this series is that Ataru’s never going to get serious about Lum in a way that matters, but every time the mask slips is a well-earned shot to the heart. The ending is no different, and it made the shorter run still feel worthwhile.

And with that, that’s a wrap on a modern (if truncated) retelling of a legendary comedy manga. I’ll be forever grateful to this iteration of Urusei Yatsura for finally pushing me into getting into Rumiko Takahashi’s classic works, and I’m beyond excited that there’s also a Ranma ½ remake on the way. If David Production takes that one on as well, it’ll be in great hands.

Anime I Watched Two Episodes of and Will Probably Get Back to Later

I Was Reincarnated as the 7th Prince So I Can Take My Time Perfecting My Magical Ability

I mean, you read the title.

This is less an isekai and more of a lateral reincarnation story; magic already very much exists in this fantasy kingdom, but this is about a guy who is very obsessed with magic but sucked at it suddenly gaining a wealth of talent and the opportunity to go absolutely sicko mode.

Lloyd’s existing knowledge of magic serves him well, and he becomes a virtuoso at a young age. He manages to subjugate a demon lurking in the palace’s library and turn him into an adorable familiar (and having the demon go from being voiced by Akio Otsuka to Fairouz Ai was a brilliant move) and just terrorize the poor little shit with his experiments and travails. The kid could basically do a Hollow Purple by the second episode. He’s kind of psychotic, and I love that for him.

This is definitely a comedy, but the comedy is kind of all over the place early on. Prince Lloyd is surrounded by beautiful young ladies-in-waiting who, uh, seem way too into him, and that kinda sucks. Lloyd himself is drawn and animated a little too lovingly for a child as well. It’s definitely uncomfortable in parts early on, but I’ve heard it lightens up on that and gets crazier in the parts that matter, so I’ll be coming back.

And it started with a menacing monologue from Takehito Koyasu himself, so of course my interest was piqued from the jump.

Oblivion Battery

It’s weird, I love both anime and sports, but sports anime was just something I never sought out too much until I picked up Blue Box recently (also please read Blue Box, it whips ass and the anime is gonna be incredible). Oblivion Battery’s debut coincided with the start of the American baseball season, so it seemed like a great time to hop in.

I can’t say I was too intrigued by the premise, though. The intentionally generically-named Taro Yamada quit baseball after middle school after getting utterly rinsed by the high-powered battery of pitcher Haruka Kiyomine and catcher Kei Kaname, so he enrolls in a high school without a baseball club, only to find that his classmates are… Haruka and Kei. Kei, as it turns out, took a bad hit to the head and has completely forgotten all about baseball, and now spends all of his time trying to be a comedy boke for unwilling participants. Taro and Haruka would like Kei to learn about baseball again, so they start up a new club, alongside other classmates who also quit baseball because of the titular battery.

Fine premise, but eh. The hook wasn’t enough of a hook for me, and even MAPPA handling the animation didn’t keep my attention for long. I’ll probably get back to it eventually, but I ended up watching plenty of other anime this season that felt like higher priorities.

Also, I’m pretty sure Oblivion Battery’s manga introduced a character named Aoi Todo before Jujutsu Kaisen did. I still prefer the latter.

YATAGARASU: The Raven Does Not Choose its Master

See, this one I probably should’ve picked up sooner, because it seems like it’s very much my jam, and I’ve seen plenty of praise for it. It’s a dense one, though, and I’d rather not cram it just to turn around and review it a few days later.

I won’t even go into the details because even two episodes in, there are darn near too many of them. This is a massive ensemble cast in and around a succession battle in a fictionalized, imperial Japan-esque kingdom created and ruled by yokai. We’ve got a battle of brides-to-be vying for the hand of an embattled prince, a cunning but resentful empress overseeing the proceedings, a possible spy or two, and a rambunctious little shit who looks like he got plucked out of Avatar: The Last Airbender getting roped into working in the palace. It’s a lot of moving parts, but I’m curious to see how they tie together.

Two episodes in and this show looks good, but probably not as great as it could. I know I’m spoiled on The Apothecary Diaries, but something like this already feels like it deserves better than some of the stiff character animation I saw early on. I’ll reserve my judgments for now.

YATAGARASU is continuing into the summer season, so I’ll take my time catching up on it. This one feels like it deserves to be sipped slowly, not chugged, and I’ll have my tasting notes in due time.

[juyeonszn]

REFLECTIONS

PAIRING jacob bae x f!reader

WORD COUNT 2.07k

GENRES smut lol

WARNINGS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, mature language, fawn writing about jacob bae yet again but i swear this time was necessary!!!, porn without plot but also if u squint there’s a little bit of plot, roommates/best friends with mutual pining, i mixed so many tropes in here tbh, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (pls be safe), mirror sex, soft? dom!jacob, lmk if i missed anything!

SUMMARY the two times jacob bae derails your saturday night plans.

MORE FAWNTOBER DAY 2 IS A GOOOOO 😈 i’m actually doing pretty well timing wise and as far as im concerned, i’ll actually pull this thing off 😭 anyways.. enjoy!! pls remember to reblog if u liked what u read! and stay tuned for the rest of the fics coming out this month <3

PERM TAGLIST @winterchimez @maessseongs @itsbeeble

If it were up to you, you would just stay home for the evening. You’d kick your feet up into the ottoman and put on a random movie, latched onto Jacob’s side like a little leech. You were lucky your roommate was just as much of a cuddler as you were. It’d be kind of awkward if he wasn’t.

Unfortunately, your Saturday night plans would have to be postponed.

“It’s gonna be fun, N/N, I promise,” he tries to convince you, hands clasped together. “Sangyeon even said he’d pay your tab.”

“But I’m tired, Cobie,” you pout, knowing full well that your puppy dog eyes would always be his weakness, even if he’d never admit it to himself. “I don’t wanna go out tonight.”

He must’ve really been looking forward to going out and meeting up with the guys if not even your guilt-tripping face worked on him. He goes off on a tangent about how you always stay in, and despite loving that to an extent, sometimes he wants to enjoy a night out. You were still confused as to why he didn’t just go by himself. Why did he have to bring you along with him?

It’s not like you were dating or anything. You were just roommates. Really close roommates. Roommates who cuddled every other night. Roommates who often found themselves sleeping in the other’s bed rather than their own. Roommates who were so undeniably attracted to each other but masked it by pretending they weren’t.

Couldn’t you have been sucked into a different trope?

“I just think you’re not giving the idea enough credit,” he raises his hands in surrender. “Besides, wouldn’t you feel left out? Wouldn’t you get major FOMO?”

You sigh. He had a point. Even if you didn’t really want to go clubbing, knowing all of your friends were there without you would make you sad. Imposter syndrome came way too easily for you. “Fine, I guess I’ll go.”

Jacob fist bumps the air, dragging you from the couch to your bedroom so you could start getting ready. He knows you take a while and the arranged meet up time was two hours from the current time. You move as quickly as you can, because even if you were only interested half heartedly, you didn’t want to be late. Especially because Jacob had a knack for constantly being punctual.

You kiss your teeth as you stare at your closet after you’ve finished showering and doing your hair and makeup. You felt like there was nothing good enough to wear. This wasn’t just a bar that you usually frequented, so you couldn’t dress casually. But it also wasn’t so fancy that you had to go over the top either. And for some reason, none of your clothes could fall into the perfect in-between category.

There was one dress.

You hadn’t worn it in a while, mostly because you never found the occasion to and it brought bad memories. It was a confidence booster, that was for sure. A tight black dress that stopped just below your ass and showed the perfect amount of cleavage. The moment you put it on, it’s like you’re a new person.

Staring back at you is someone you haven’t seen in a couple years, someone you shoved into the recesses of your subconscious. She used to party every night until she was black out drunk, making out and sleeping with random strangers until she was satisfied. She was stuck in a loop until she became friends with Jacob Bae, eventually moving in to get away from that lifestyle.

You never tell him how grateful you are. Part of you wishes to keep your past buried, hidden from the light of day so you never have to face your mistakes again. But at the same time, you could never tell him thank you enough. For saving you in a way, for helping you close that chapter of your life.

There’s a knock at your door, and you call out a “Come in” before your brain catches up with you. You make eye contact with Jacob in the mirror, watching his expression shift slightly. It wouldn’t have been noticeable if you were anyone else, but you knew him almost as well as you knew yourself. Maybe better.

He walks up behind you, brushing your hair behind your shoulder with a featherlight touch. “I haven’t seen this one on you in a long time.”

He’s so close to you, it’s kind of driving you crazy. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to keep your voice steady. “Should I wear it?”

His fingers start at your waist, trailing down to the hem of your dress. His knuckles skim across the bare skin of your exposed thigh, provoking your body to shudder. “Hmm, I’m not too sure,” Jacob rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. “Seeing you in this is making me rethink going out tonight. Kinda wanna keep you here, all to myself, like that night at Hyunjae’s party.”

Okay, so perhaps you might’ve skipped a tiny detail in the retelling of your first encounter with Jacob Bae.

The reason you two became friends was because he actually happened to be one of those random strangers you slept with. It was a stroke of luck that you kept in contact with him after that night, considering he was supposed to be nothing more than a nameless face. But he was cute and he was funny, so when he asked to hang out a few days later you couldn’t help but cave in.

“Jacob…” You breathe, chest rising and falling rapidly. “D-Don’t you wanna see the boys?”

His lips press to the juncture between your neck and collarbone, a soft kiss that already packs your head with cotton. He hums into your skin, hands bunching up your dress around your hips. Someone was impatient. “Not important. We can reschedule.”

You didn’t want to reschedule. You wanted to get out of this apartment, fully clothed, with an excuse to ignore the hammering of your heart in your rib cage and the fluttering down there. If you stayed here any longer, Jacob would successfully charm his way into your pants. (Dress?) And you didn’t want to think about the consequences that may come with.

But it’s not like he gives you much of a choice, invading your headspace with every nip and suck of your jugular and jaw. His slender fingers run a line down the front of your panties, a small groan leaving the back of his throat when he feels how wet you are for him. With heavy eyelids, you watch the entire thing in the mirror, lips parting with a gasp at the sight.

“Fuck, baby,” he curses in your ear, pulling you backward so the two of you are sitting on the edge of your bed, still facing your mirror. “You want me just as bad don’t you?”

You whine, squirming as he dips his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, collecting your slick and smearing it all over your lower lips. He helps you shimmy out of your panties and dress, leaving you completely nude for him. His fingers resume their previous activities, easily pumping the ring and middle digits in and out of your cunt. His free hand grips your jaw, forcing you to keep your eyes on his movements.

“Cobie,” you whimper, spreading your legs wider to give both of you a better view. “Feels so good…”

His thumb circles your clit, mouth beside your ear to whisper all the filthy things he wants to do to you. Your toes curl at the same time his fingers do, brushing that sweet spot in your pussy. A strangled moan escapes you as you hit your climax, walls tightening around his fingers and back arching into his chest.

“That was so hot. You did so well for me,” he praises, thumb rubbing lazy patterns into your clit to bring you back down. “I just need you to do that on my cock. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nod, hands reaching behind yourself to free him from his jeans, fumbling with the button and zipper in your haste. “Need you inside of me already.”

You hope Jacob doesn’t have high expectations for you since you came so quickly with just his fingers. You’re not sure if he’s anticipating you to last longer with his cock. From what you remember, he wasn’t the longest, but he was definitely the thickest, and that’s what scared you the most. You were afraid of how full he’d make you feel.

Once the clothes from his bottom half are removed, you risk a glance at his dick in the mirror, your pussy clenching around nothing. Despite not knowing if you’d be able to take him without turning into a blubbering mess, you really wanted to try. You wanted him to fill you up like a plug in a bathtub drain.

He takes his girth in one hand, sliding his dick through your folds languidly, lubricating himself with the wetness of your cunt. He groans in your ear again, squeezing your hip to steel himself. “You ready for me?”

Your head bobs up and down quickly, patience wearing thin. He chuckles before impaling you on his cock, both of you moaning from the feeling of one another. The stretch burns, but it’s fucking heavenly, your pussy feeling so stuffed you can barely think. (Not that your thoughts were coherent beforehand anyway.)

“You’re— oh god, Jacob— you’re s-so deep,” you mewl, hands supporting yourself on his thighs. “I feel so full.”

He keeps his grip on your waist, fucking up into you as slowly as he can as to not disrupt your adjustment to his cock. Your head lolls back onto his shoulder, lips parted with a gasp every time he thrusts into your tight pussy. He shakes his head, urging you to stay upright.

“I need you to keep your eyes on the mirror, baby. Watch me fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.” Jacob commands, voice as deep as his dick inside of you.

You comply, hooded eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head when you take in the sight of him bouncing you on his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, lip splitting from the force in which you’re biting it. He looks so hot, focused on getting you both to that peak you desperately need to reach.

It’s such a stark contrast to the sweet Jacob Bae you’re used to, this one pounding into you without mercy, eyebrows knitted together in concentration. That first time you had sex, years ago, was pretty vanilla thanks to you both having a little too much to drink that night. You don’t even think you remembered most of it. Had you known he was such a freak, maybe you wouldn’t have pretended your attraction to him was nonexistent. Maybe this would’ve happened a lot sooner.

You don’t dwell on that regret much longer, Jacob yanking your attention back in by rubbing your clit with his middle finger. The amount of overstimulation fogs your vision, voluminous, pornographic level moans reverberating around the room. The words bubbling past your lips don’t make any sense, reduced to babbling until an encouragement is uttered into your ear.

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,”

A cry is ripped from your vocal cords, your body writhing above him and continuing even after he’s orgasmed inside of you, fucking his cum into your cunt as he calms you down. You whimper when he grasps your jaw once more, egging you on to stare at the mixture of your cum running down your legs.

You both look absolutely feral, skin sticky with sweat and chests heaving up and down as if you’d ran a marathon. Jacob makes no move to pull out, leaving open mouthed kisses on your neck, back and shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut as a wave of exhaustion rushes over you.

“I think you’re pretty close to succeeding in your mission,” you say hoarsely. “I can hardly function right now.”

He laughs, such a melodic sound it almost doesn’t belong in your current setting. “Yeah? Do you wanna help me pass it?”

And in spite of being on the brink of passing out, who are you to deny such a promising offer?

© juyeonszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[eldritch-ambrosia]

“What?” Merlin finally asks, his voice dripping with annoyance from across the king’s chambers. 

Arthur fumbles with his parchments, averting his gaze and raising his eyebrow at a page that was most certainly not upside down, heat rushing to his cheeks, 

“Hm?”

“Arthur!” He says warningly.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Well then, stop watching me!” Merlin rolls his eyes, leaning back down to grab for the sponge he had thrown in his frustration. “I’m doing my job, aren’t I?”

Arthur scoffs. “I’m not-”

“I can feel your eyes burning into the back of my skull, you prick.”

He wavers.

“I’m just… thinking.”

“Oh well don’t hurt yourself,” Merlin grumbles, scrubbing a particular part of the chamber floor harder. A wine stain that they both know won’t come off clean, from years prior, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. Trying to clean or trying to annoy Arthur though, he couldn’t really be sure. 

He finally sighs, tossing the sponge back into the bucket, and stretching out his back. “What are you thinking about?”

He considers not answering. He’s the king, he can demand anything he wants from his servants, including leaving him the hell alone. Though that didn’t usually seem to work with Merlin and there were some conversations he couldn’t avoid forever. 

“Why didn’t you accept the position on the council?”

Merlin turns to him fully now, head tilted in confusion. “What?”

“You could be in your own chambers right now. Large, lavish chambers,” he emphasizes, placing his parchment back down. “Dining and drinking wine and preparing for bed. Instead of… this.”

“My knees are getting a bit worn for this part, to be honest.” He says, standing and curving his back slightly, the crack of his bones echoing awkwardly through the chamber. “But I couldn’t do that to whatever poor fool would end up getting this job instead. I wouldn’t want to punish someone with your dirty socks and poor habits.”

“Hey-!”

“And then who would help Gaius? I am still his assistant, even if you seem to forget that. You’re telling me that you want Gaius to train someone entirely new to take over after him?” He crosses his arms, tutting disappointedly. “I didn’t know you could be so cruel.”

“Shut up, Merlin.” Arthur rolls his eyes, leaning back in his chair. It was just like him to throw off a serious question about himself with some long winded complaining or stabbing at Arthur’s character. 

Now, though, he knew why.

Merlin shrugs, drying off his hands with a spare cloth, his eyes scanning the room. He always did this before it was time to get Arthur ready for bed, a final once over of a job mostly well done. 

“You asked.”

“Because I wanted an honest answer. Not your usual prattle.”

“I am being honest.” Merlin insists, though his voice wavers.

Sighing, Arthur finally pushes forward. “Is it because you want to stay by my side? Because you and I can’t be parted?”

“What?” His head jerks, his knuckles gripping the cloth tighter.

“If that is the reason, we can still be together when you’re a council member! Hell, you’ll be a nobleman so you can stay near me without having to serve. Get off your feet for a while.”

“You’re talking nonsense, Arthur.”

“I know, Merlin.” He says gently, standing. “I know.”

Merlin’s eyes are wide as he swallows hard, and Arthur is sure he can see him shaking. “I don’t-” His voice cracks. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, approaching his servant as if he were an anxious cat and not his closest friend. “I heard you and Lancelot talking in the training room a few weeks ago.”

He considers what Arthur’s said, his eyes darting back and forth before they settle on the king. “And you’re just… fine with it?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say fine with it. I wish you’d have told me, at the very least.” He stops, only a few feet in front of the other man. “But, I suppose, yes. I’ve thought a lot about it and I don’t think we should be parted either.”

“Really?” He asks, blinking owlishly. 

Arthur nods, reaching a hand out to his shoulder. “I want you by my side, Merlin. Whether that’s as my servant or as my advisor, you will always be the person I turn to first.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, though his eyes are still shining. “I don’t want you to do this just because you feel bad. And what would the other advisors say? And the knights?”

“They’ll have to go through me then. And I don’t think making an enemy of the King of Camelot will really go well for them. Do you?”

“An enemy?” Merlin smiles and Arthur feels his whole body sigh in relief. “Do you really mean that?”

“I do.” A pause hangs between them, a familiar and comfortable silence. Merlin brings his hand up to Arthur’s, gently holding onto where the king’s hand rests on his shoulder, and Arthur can’t help but think that to stay here, in this moment, would bring him utter peace. 

He’d never admit that, not to Merlin, or anyone else for that matter, but he could accept it for himself and that would be enough.

“Is, um, there anything I have to do to… move forward?”

“For your job, not at all. I’ll take care of everything.” Merlin nods, grinning softly. “But for us, can you tell me? I don’t want to know just from overhearing you and Lancelot. I want you to tell me the truth. Please.”

Merlin’s grin widens, his grasp on Arthur’s wrist tightening. “Okay. Let me just…” And he leans forward, tilting his head down ever so slightly, pressing his lips to a startled Arthur’s.

The king freezes, heat rushing to his face, and he can feel his chest tightening as Merlin pulls back.

“I love you,” Merlin murmurs in the air between them and Arthur can see it in his eyes. Which means that Merlin can see the absolute shock in his in return. Merlin’s face falls. “What?”

“You… what?”

“I… You said you knew!” Merlin accuses, attempting to pull back but Arthur’s grip on his shoulder tightens. “You shouldn’t be… I mean, you know that! Obviously, you know that, right? Why else would you have said all that?”

Arthur’s red in the face, sputtering and feeling like an absolute idiot. “I know about your magic, Merlin! I had no idea-”

“My what?!”

~~~

I know it's been done before but I'm a sucker for this trope. The only way I'm okay with miscommunication. Whatever you think happens next, it absolutely does :)

Hoping to write more Merlin blurbs to motivate me to finish my multichapter fics because writer's block is a bitch.

[korebringerofded]

I Can See You- Joel Miller X F!Reader

Summary- Your father is the boss of a major crime family that developed after the apocalypse. Life is pretty safe and boring until your fathers new associate, Joel Miller starts coming around and he starts to change everything.

Tags- Post apocalypse, pre!Ellie, one use of Y/N?

Warnings- Age gap, mutual pining, language, smut, mostly future smut, dirty thoughts, sexual situations and dialogue. Joel being hot and protective

Words-3500

Author Notes- Definitely doing a part two for this bad boy. I promise the next one will have so much damn spice I just gotta edit lol.

Thanks for checking out my stuff! Requests are open

Reblogs and comments are very nice please and thanks

I wanna do a whole Joel series with Taylor Swift songs soon so if anyone would like that please let me know!

Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it.

As much as you would have loved to have just forgotten this embarrassingly huge crush you had, it was becoming increasingly more difficult to get the image of your fathers newest associate out of your head.

You honestly should have known better, considering the first time you heard the name Joel Miller was regarding how dangerous he could be, how rugged and cold. He had apparently been caught smuggling some supplies around your fathers territory and by the end of it all a deal was struck and just like that Joel was working for your father.

It was the first time that you came in contact with him that really doomed you to fall for him so completely. You couldn’t say what exactly it was that drew you to him at first, he was handsome, obviously, and incredibly dangerous, maybe that danger is what made him so tempting to you, he was forbidden and a part of you liked that.

The first time you met Joel in person was a few weeks after you had first started to hear rumors of him around the compound. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee as you stood in the doorway, a bit shocked by the unknown visitor. He was…terrifyingly handsome, sharp jaw, scruffy beard, deep pools of brown eyes that you could get lost in. His salt and pepper hair that was perfectly messy matched his casual dress, jeans, work boots, plaid shirt. You stared at him for a moment, chewing at your lip before finally saying something. As his eyes settled on you, still in your pajamas and messy hair.

“G-goodmorning, I’m (Y/N).” You struggled to steady your voice, failing miserably. 

“Joel.” He partially turned to face you, raising his hand up to wave as he gave you a polite nod before going back to his coffee. You guessed he wasn’t really much of a conversationalist and tried to shrug it off before making your own coffee and retreating back to your room.

It went on like that for a few weeks, you watching him patrol the compound through your bedroom window, running into him when you both made coffee in the mornings, passing glances in the hallway

“You can’t walk around like that!” You sighed, setting your coffee on the counter behind you as you walked over to Joel and ghosted your small hands over Joel’s plaid shirt, it was a dark green and blue and was rather well worn with tears and it had been missing the middle button for years.

“I will be fine, darlin.” Joel snorted, rolling his eyes at you as he shook his head. “I don’t have any big dances comin’ up so I doubt anyone’ll notice.” Joel took a bite from the toast in his hand as he looked down at you, admiring your curves and glowing skin. 

Damn, he really needed to get himself under control.

“It most certainly is not fine.” You put your hands on your hips, scowling at him. “Take it off, I am fixing it for you.” You held a hand out expectantly.

Joel couldn’t help but do as you asked so after he chuckled and teased you just a bit longer he was unbuttoning the remaining buttons on his shirt before tugging it off and handing it to you as he tried desperately to ignore the way your delicate hands felt against his as they brushed for just a moment.

You went back to your room holding the shirt to your chest with bright red cheeks, the fresh pine scent just enveloped you as you held it close to your face to breathe in his scent. 

Ugh, you totally were not getting creepy with this annoying crush at all.

It was the next morning and Joel was leaving his room in the compound when he felt his work boots knock over something and when he glanced down he saw a small shiny gift bag laying on its side.. He couldn’t help but grin and chuckle as he picked it up and pulled out his shirt, running his rough hands over your handiwork, not a hole or tear in sight and the missing button had been replaced with a shiny red one. It had never looked better. Something in him started to tear away then, such a small act of kindness. It just really got to him as he felt you start to warm the parts of him he had thought were cold and barren. 

When Joel stopped showing up for coffee you were more than disappointed as it had become something you secretly looked forward to everyday. The lack of seeing Joel seemed to only make your mind run in a circle of anxiety and embarrassment. He had taken up so much of your mind it was starting to drive you mad.

The next day you saw Joel it was probably the hottest day of the entire summer and you had taken refuge in the pool, a thin pink bikini covering your body, not leaving much to the imagination. It was damn hot and you honestly didn’t care, floating in the pool as you tried to ignore the blazing heat. You had been in the pool for a while, skin getting a bit pruny and eyes closed as you enjoyed the cool water.

“Hey! Care for some company?” A familiar voice made your eyes open quickly and in front of you on the edge of the pool was a curly brunette with wide shoulders and a toothy grin. Caleb, was one of the younger guards your father had hired recently and he was rather handsome, cocky and annoying, but still handsome and (most of the time) enjoyable.

“You do know if my daddy finds out your slacking off again there will be hell to pay?” You couldn’t help but giggle and tilt your head to the side. Caleb shrugged and sat his rifle down, untucking his shirt from his pants and starting to lift it over his torso. It was hard not to let your eyes wander at his tan toned body, and muscular arms. 

“He won’t be home for a while so-” Caleb’s cocky words folded into a yelp as he was dragged from the edge of the pool by the back of his neck.

“The fuck are you doing, boy? Get the hell back to work.” Joel spat, his thick Texas accent was so prominent now. Your eyes were so focused on Joel that you didn’t even notice Caleb grabbing his things and looking pale as a ghost while he ran off.

To be frank, Joel looked furious, his thick muscular arms bulged from his tight shirt as he stood at the edge of the pool, his sharp jaw tight as his arms were crossed over his chest. His dreamy brown eyes were now dark and stormy as he kept them locked on you.

It made you feel a bit meek and yet, you were also a bit pissed yourself.

“What is your problem?” You felt your cheeks getting hot as you started to get out of the pool, still dripping wet and hair reeking of chlorine as you stood in front of the scowling man. 

You hadn’t realized until now just how…huge that he was. His shoulders were broad, arms thick and rippled with muscles.His scent was thick and alluring, and being this close to him made your anger dwindle. 

“You shouldn’t be out here like this, kid.” Joel sighed, his eyes looking you up and down, his fists clenching and unclenching as his nostrils flared. 

“I am not a kid, and I really don’t need you to lecture me, old man.” You couldn’t help but jab at him, going to turn away before his rough hand gripped your arm tightly, his brown eyes staring intensely into yours.

There was a moment you were both frozen like that, his hand gripping your wrist. Joel honestly couldn’t help but rub his thumb over your wrist, gently drawing slow circles along your flesh. The water from the pool still dripped down your body and onto the pavement below, the sun beating down over your smooth skin. For a moment you swore you saw that cold demeanor melt away, for just a single moment before it was back and he was scowling again. Joel immediately let you go, turning away almost suddenly as he walked off. 

You hated to admit it but your heart lurched at the loss of contact and you stared at his broad shoulders as he walked away, wide eyed and cheeks a bright pink. It was hard to breath, hard to move as your heart beat echoed in your ribs and traveled through your whole body. You hated to admit how he was making you feel, it was confusing and sent waves of heat through your body as well as frustration.

Seriously, what was his deal?

He was really starting to take up a lot of your thoughts and the two of you had barely spoken aside from that day. It was starting to drive you nuts, you found yourself looking forward to running into him more and more as time went on. 

It would be two weeks before you saw Joel again as he was sent out on a job away from the compound (You knew better than to ask too many questions about specifics.) though you really couldn’t help but feel he was purposely trying to avoid you.

The evening sun poured into the kitchen as you sat at the counter, legs crossed as you flipped through the pages of your book. In all honesty you were desperately trying to distract yourself from thinking about Joel and his damn hands. The way he looked at you was unlike anything you had experienced before, it was intense and a little terrifying. 

You thought about those rough hands touching more than just your wrist, you thought of them dancing across your flesh expertly, back arching and breath ragged as his stubble ran across your chest and navel and lower until he was between your thighs, eyes hungry as his hands gripped your hips.

 Your thoughts were starting to consume you and you couldn’t help but audibly groan and let your head fall against the counter. 

“Uhhh..You okay there?” Joel’s voice cut through the room like a knife, his deep voice sent goosebumps over my neck and back. 

You were going to die of embarrassment, after all this time and he just shows up at the worst possible moment. 

You reluctantly sit up and turn towards him, cheeks a bit pink. 

“I'm fine- Woah.” When you faced him you felt yourself tense up. He had deep bruises on his jaw and his lip was busted open. “What happened to you?”

You didn’t really think about it, you grabbed a clean rag and walked over to him, tugging on his arm to make him sit in a chair so you can clean him up. 

“Its’ fine-I can handle myself.” Joel holds his hand up to stop you, your eyes locking for a moment. He can’t help it, your pleading eyes and trembling bottom lip made him fold almost immediately and his hand fell so you could move between his legs, gently pressing the rag to Joel’s bleeding lip. 

“It’s not ‘fine’.” You rolled your eyes, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your closeness but you focused on his lip, soaking the blood up and feeling a bit dazed at how damn handsome he was, how his thick pine scent mixed with the sweat on his brow and how that all made your heart leap in your chest.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit- I’ll be right back.” You whispered, taking a step back as your nerves started to fully set in, this was too much, he was too tempting. If you were too close to him you were going to majorly embarrass yourself. You just wanted him so badly it was starting to fester in the pit of your stomach.

Once you returned you finished cleaning his wounds and dressing them, his breath spreading over your chest and neck as your delicate hands patched him up. You were really just too close for comfort. 

Joel was dying inside, clenching and unclenching his fists as he struggled to resist the urge to run his hands over your hips and to just fucking ruin you. He had certainly been avoiding you like the damn plague, you were gorgeous and going anywhere near you was sure to be nothing but trouble for the older man and yet…something about you kept him coming back to you, despite the dangers, despite the taboo. He just wanted you in every way. 

“All done. Now you won’t bleed all over the place.” You teased, feeling a deep sense of relief as you finally and yet still reluctantly backed away from Joel, cheeks heating up as his eyes met with yours again. 

“Thanks, darlin. Maybe you can be my personal nurse, hm?” Joel stood, smirking as he took a few steps closer, his chest inches from your face as you stared into those endless eyes of his. Joel slowly reached his hand up and brushed your cheek with a look so soft and cool it made your head spin. “See you later.” He mumbled softly before he turned away quickly and was gone just like that. 

He almost didn’t control himself there, his mind and heart racing in tandem as he willed himself to walk away, willed himself not to think about your smooth plush hips or your gemstone eyes that glimmered as they looked up at him, full of innocence and sweetness. Something that Joel, deep deep down, wanted to corrupt. He just had to avoid you at all costs. He could do that, right?

After that it was almost a month before you ran into him, and it was less so running into him and more so your father being a control freak and only allowing you to leave the compound when accompanied by a trusted guard and unfortunately for the both of you this meant Joel was given the honor of being your babysitter.

“I am 23, Joel. I don’t need you to lecture me.” You rolled your eyes as Joel took a beer bottle from your hands. You were already significantly more drunk than you needed to be, not that you would ever admit that of course.

You leaned against the bar, rolling your eyes dramatically. You had worn your tight black dress that hugged all of your curves, shiny red lips popping as you glared at the tall man, hands on your hips.

“Your daddy seems to think otherwise.” Joel shot you a glare, taking the beer bottle from you and passing you a glass of water which immediately made you groan.

“Don’t you ever loosen up?” You huffed, face heating up as you glared up at him, the alcohol burning through your veins and making you a lot more vocal and in all honesty, bratty.

“You don’t need to be shit faced when I take you home.” Joel sighed, crossing his arms over his chest, he wasn’t going to budge on this. 

“Fine. I am going to dance. You can sit here and sulk.” You huffed, spinning around and walking out into the drunken and stumbling crowd but not far enough that Joel couldn’t see. A part of you wanted him to watch.

You turned back to see his eyes staring at you in an almost predatory way and for a moment it almost made you lose your nerve. He was almost burning a hole in that dress with the heat and intensity of which he watched you. You couldn’t help but smirk a bit at the way he gripped his glass, his jaw tight as you started to sway your hips, dancing to the music. While across the room Joel watched every step, every sway. The way your hands ran over your stomach and chest, eyes low and chest rising and falling. He looked like a starved man as he looked you over, gripping his glass so hard you were concerned it would shatter.

You were much too drunk, you would certainly make a fool of yourself and yet you didn’t stop. His eyes on you made you hungry and a little light-headed. His gaze was so damn intense you didn’t even notice the man standing behind you before he tapped you on the shoulder and you turned to see Caleb, a little dazed and very drunk as you looked at him, his hair a bit messy and his typical toothy grin.

“You’re beautiful in that dress.” He smirked, going to lean forward to touch your hips before his eyes went wide and he started to back away, hands up as he pushed a few people to get away. He looked like he just saw a ghost. 

You stood, head tilted to the side as he ran off, confusion written on your face before you turned around and felt your own heart sink. Joel was stalking towards you, fists clenched and a terrifying dark look in his eyes as he approached you, getting nose to nose with you.

“I’m tired of this.” His voice was dark and gravely, it sent a shiver down your spine. 

In a swift motion Joel had lifted you by the waist, tossed you over his shoulder and started to walk out of the bar, his thick fingers holding your waist tight as he carried you out into the cool night.

“Joel! Put me down!” Your face was bright red in embarrassment, you struggled a bit but it was ultimately fruitless, Joel’s strength greatly outmatched your own.

After walking for a minute and ignoring your many, many threats Joel did eventually put you down. From the moment you saw him stalking towards you to right now you felt your blood boil in a fierce wave of anger. You ignored your trembling hands as you got nose to nose with him, tears stinging your eyes as you shoved your manicured index finger against Joel’s muscular chest.

“Seriously, what is your problem?!” You were seething as the words left your mouth, tears threatening to fall.

Joel just stared at you for a moment, the moonlight overhead was shimmering in the alleyway and illuminating your captivating eyes. Even now, as you furiously glared at him, eyes dark and angry, he was absolutely helpless to your beauty. He was fighting a losing battle with himself, he wanted to be a good man, he wanted to finish this job and get far away from you so he could stop himself from ruining not just his own life but yours as well.

“You.” He took a step forward, his eyes dark as he stalked towards you, his hands reaching out to pin you between him and the brick building.  “You are…my problem.” Joel was growling now, he was almost baring his teeth as he moved closer, his breath spreading over your neck as you stared wide eyed.

“W-what are you talking about?” Your voice was soft.

You couldn’t help but gasp when you felt Joel start to laugh, leaning his head against your neck, his beard rubbing against your skin as Joel took in your sweet vanilla scent as much as he could before pulling away. You could feel his body shake as he laughed before his deep brown eyes were staring into yours.

“Seeing you run around in that damn bikini, seeing you flirt with that douche. The coffees and those fucking eyes you keep giving me. It needs to stop. All of it.” Joel’s eyes were dark and serious, his jaw tight as he pressed his knuckles into the brick behind you. He was fighting everything inside of him. The fight between his morals and the way you were starting to make him feel. 

You were silent for a moment, looking at him with wide eyes that were glossy as tears threatened to spill down your rosy cheeks. Had you misread the entire situation?

“Why?” Your voice was soft as you looked at him, lip trembling a bit. You felt pretty pathetic.

“Aside from the fact that your daddy will kill me? You are just a young kid. It ain’t right.” Joel’s face softened a bit as he started to pull away, shaking his head as he struggled to keep his eyes on anything but you and your glimmering eyes. 

“You don’t…you don’t want me at all?” 

Those words sent electricity down Joel’s spine as you looked up at him, tear stained cheeks and trembling breath as you reached for him. He in fact did want you, he wanted you more than he had ever wanted anything or anyone.As much as Joel wanted to spare you, to allow you to stay pure and good but something in him was so damn loud and hungry for you, his internal voice was kicking the shit out of him for making you cry. He just didn’t want to hurt you.

He couldn’t take it anymore and in a quick movement Joel had you pressed against the wall again, his hands holding your hips as his mouth ghosted over yours, his breath heavy and hot against your neck as he whispered in your ear.

“I want you so damn much, darlin. So damn much…” 

Part Two Coming Soon???

[anas-aspiration]

I was wondering if you could please do a smut where carl (grimes) and the reader go on a supply run and hook up in the car on the way back after flirting the whole day pleasee

𝐀𝐫𝐮𝐛𝐚

Warnings: thigh riding, smut, vaginal penetration,

It was morning, you awoke feeling refreshed in the cozy house you shared with Rosita and Eugene.

“Good morning, guys," you mumbled with a contented stretch.

Eugene let you know that Rick needed your assistance on a supply run with Carl since Enid had unexpectedly bailed.

"Why the hell did Enid bail over a haircut and Maggie?" you interrupted

Rosita responded with a casual shrug, "Something about Maggie's vision for her hair didn't align with Enid's. Weird, I know. So, are you up for the run?"

“Yeah I guess I’m up for it”

You weren’t excited, because going on runs wasn’t your favorite thing, but having alone time with Carl definitely made it seem more appealing. You always had un-resolved tension. Flirting was kind of your thing, but you never did anything. It’s been that way since you met a few years back at the prison. You wonder if that will ever change.

Having filled yourself with breakfast, you retrieved your "go bag" from beneath your bed.

Underneath a semi-sunny sky, you walked to Carl's place, where the RV was parked outside.

You stood awkwardly on the porch, knocking and waiting for him. Then you heard the dusty doorknob turn and the door open.

“Hey y/n, you know what we’re doing today?”

“No, not really”

“Alright, um well here’s the list it’s mostly food and cleaning supplies. We’ll we back by tomorrow” he said handing the small paper to you

“Okay that should be fine”

“Yeah, lets go”

He hopped in the drivers seat and you sat in the back sharpening your hunters knife.

“So looks like the only towns nearby that aren’t crossed out on the map are North Bethesda and Aspen Hill. Which one do you say we hit?”

“Mm I think North Bethesda. There’s a mall over there with a super-target.”

“Alright sounds good”

You both shared small talk about what candies you both hoped to find this time. On previous runs, you always looked forward to looking for candy after everything on the list was taken care of. The one rule you had established together was calling dibs on what you wanted.

“Okay looks like we’re here, Westfield Mall”

Stepping out of the car, a refreshing breeze hit you. Together, you strolled, through the empty mall trying to navigate the target.

Entering the store, you and Carl wasted no time. Playfully, you picked up a chair and dropped it, hoping to attract a walkers attention.

“There we go," you jeered as a pair of walkers stumbled in your direction.

Carl chimed in, "I'll take care of this one," nodding towards the one on the left.

With swift precision, you pulled out your knife and killed the first walker. When you glanced back at Carl, he had mirrored your actions, already finishing off his own target and dusting himself off. Just then, a hefty walker wobbled toward him from the side. Reacting instinctively, you stepped forward to handle it on your own.

" Walker!" you called out, swiftly raising your blade toward its skull. However, the determined walker fought back, snapping dangerously close to your face. You tried pushing it away with all your strength, but failed. The walker swiped at you with it’s jagged nails.

Losing your balance, you ended up on your butt, and Carl had to step in, taking out the walker from behind. The encounter left you feeling a bit drained and worn out.

“Jeez are you okay?” he said reaching his hand out to you

“Yeah I’m fine thanks” you chuckled

“Oh your shirt” he chuckled, giving you a small smile

“Huh?” you glanced down at your shirt seeing that the walker had ripped it across, exposing your bra.

“Great” you sighed

“Its not that bad, I mean I’m not complaining, but there’s another shirt in that box” he jeered

“Oh shut up!” Tossing your torn shirt at his face. You sifted through a box you scavenged and picked out a regular tank top.

You guys walked around collecting most things on the list. You also found some goods that weren’t on the list like jewelry and snacks.

You both finished and packed everything you looted in the RV. You were throwing a can of empty gasoline in a dumpster when you felt a pain in your shoulder.

“God my arm is aching so bad” you sighed rubbing your shoulder

You felt Carl come from behind you and snake his hands up your back and to your shoulders, rubbing them.

Immediately your muscles relaxed and your head drooped.

“Does that feel good?” he grinned

“Yes” you snickered

“Mm cmon it’s getting dark, lets find a spot to park and call it night?”

“Alright” you giggled

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“I’ll let you get changed in here, I’ll use the bathroom” Carl said

“No that’s fine we can both change in here” you insisted, beginning to undress

He just stood there, almost dumb founded as you were left topless, now unbuttoning your jeans. You looked up to see him glancing everywhere but your eyes.

“What? Like what you see?” You said softly biting your lip

“Don’t give me that look” he said now walking towards you

A brief moment of anticipation hung in the air before he closed the gap between you, his lips meeting yours in a fervent, passionate kiss. You both stayed like that for a moment, you brought your hand down his sides in a seductive fashion.

You broke the kiss to guide him over to the bed before returning it again. He was on top of you, and you both continued stripping your clothes off.

Once you were fully exposed he took a moment to take it all in.

“You wouldn’t believe how long I’ve wanted this.” He said, slightly out of breath

He flipped your position around, you were now seated on his thigh as he began manually moving your hips back and forth.

You moaned into his shoulder feeling the sensation of your cunt rubbing against his jeans.

“I didn’t know you were so sensitive” he grinned

“Ye-yeah me either”

As your rode his thigh, he ran his fingers along your hair. You palmed his dick through his jeans and clung into the bed with your free hand.

He began planting hickies on your neck, but at this point you were too distracted to care. Just then you found the perfect spot that made your vision begin to blur, and you sped up your pace.

“Your doing so good” he purred

You only moaned in response to his praise, too overwhelmed. But just then you realized how empty you felt, you needed more.

“I don’t want to come like this I need you”

“Tell me that again” he grinned

“Please carl I need you inside of me”

At this, he switched your position once again.

“Bend over,spread your legs”

You immediately did so, becoming more impatient as the seconds passed, as he got all the way undressed

He gradually slid into you groaning. You felt like you entered heaven right then and there. Once he filled you up he began thrusting at a fast pace.

“Carl!” you whimpered into the air. You thought about this moment a million times while giving yourself pleasure.

He stretched you out perfectly, rubbing right against your sweet spot.

“Damn, you’re so tight.” he said in absolute euphoria

He put one hand on your hip, and the other found your hair, tugging lightly.

You ground into his dick matching each thrust. The stimulation became too much all too fast. Your mouth gaped open and you closed your eyes.

You looked back him trembling from how much ecstasy this was giving you.

“God right there” Your stomach began to tense up

“Are you close?”

“Yes”

At this he grabbed your arm to bring it down to your clit, guiding your fingers in circular motions on your clit. At that moment he came inside of you causing you to cry out and reach your peak. Once again shockwaves went through you and you melted into pleasure.

“Oh my god” you said falling onto your stomach as you catch your breath “We need to do this all the time”

Carl rolled you over onto your back, and connected your lips for a lazy kiss.

“Definitely”

A/n!!

I feel like I peaked in writing two weeks ago but I’m trying 😭😭☻︎ anyway I see on the poll that yall want a part two for friends with benefits. But I saw a reblog that says all and so I’m probs gonna do all but fwb first

[fallatyourfeet]

Faded Shadows (Alfie Solomons x Reader)

Summary: Alfie never could have guessed how things would play out after you virtually forced your way into his office.

Word count: 1205

Warnings: Swearing, lots and lots of it. Alludes to physical abuse. And the reader is a newly widowed woman.

A/N: Okay, so this fic started off with playful intentions, but quickly grew pretty macabre. I take no responsibility for it. It just happened. It's not my fault.

Please feel free to send me a message/comment/ask, I would love to know what you think.

If you like this, please feel free to visit my blog and take a look around! You can find my masterlist in my bio.

It was true. The people in Alfie’s neighbourhood were hardly known for their fine King’s English. It's fair to say the Camden Town tongue was a little rough around the edges and not shy of curse word or two. And Alfie’s ears were certainly no stranger to the odd colourful word slipping from the mouths of the women in his life. But never, as a boy, teenager or fully grown man had he heard such brutal language coming from such a sweet-sounding voice. If everyone around him swore like sailors, then the faceless voice causing a ruckus from somewhere outside his office, surely wrote the sailor’s dictionary. 

Partly frustrated but mostly amused, Alfie dropped his pen to the desk and leaned back in his chair, listening to the string of words caught between the all the expletives. “Fucking let go of me you filthy c**ts, I’m gonna get in that fucking room one way or another... That bastard in there, had my bloody husband killed... and I wanna see his goddamn face.”  

Alfie’s amusement dissolved, replaced by an audible sigh of dread as he mumbled under his breath, “Fuck... a bloody widow.” Yelling out to Caleb, he demanded, “Let the woman in would ya, she ain’t gonna let it go.” Standing up he moved to the side of his desk, mumbling to himself again, “Might as well get this over with.” 

Coming through the door between two of his men, you ripped your arms from their grip, giving them the filthiest look as you did so. Your face was one of the sweetest things he had ever seen, but the look was so deadly Alfie had to hold back a chuckle. ‘You were a feisty one, weren’t you?’ 

Taking a deep calming breath, you smoothed over your dress. It was well worn and long out of fashion, but you were immaculate. You obviously didn’t have a penny to scratch together, but you took pride in yourself, making the most of what you had. And Alfie found himself warming to you already. 

Running your fingers through your hair, you tamed all the locks that had escaped during your scuffle with his men, and finally looked at him. Your expression had lost almost all of its venom, nearly matching the sweetness of your beautiful features and he instantly felt a pang of guilt. One, for being the reason you were now a widow, and two, for finding a newly widowed woman so bloody attractive.  

Lifting your chin in a show of defiance; or was it pride? you held his intense gaze, and if you felt a single ounce of fear, you did not show it. Either way, he thought to himself, ‘Hmph, beautiful and brave.’  

Clearing your throat, you spoke, your words suddenly devoid of any of the foul language he heard spilling from your mouth just moments ago, “Alfie Solomons?” 

With a nod, Alfie crossed his arms before him, “Yeah, that’d be me.” 

Taking a step closer, you also nodded your head, your eyes never leaving his, “My name is Y/N Y/L/N, and your men murdered my husband, Peter, three days ago.” Alfie opened his mouth to respond, but you held a single finger in the air, a silent, but very clear gesture to shut him up. The moment he closed his mouth you lowered your hand, and continued, “Did they shoot him on your order?”  

Alfie wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Sure, from time to time he lost a bit of sleep over the number of men that were tossed into shallow graves by his order. But the reality of standing there, looking into your expressive E/C eyes and taking responsibility for killing the man you loved, twisted like a burning hot poker in his stomach. He doubted he would sleep for months.  

A moment of silence passed, and your expression shifted with a touch of impatience while you waited for your answer. Moving his arms from across his chest, he shuffled on his feet, his hands coming to rest at his hips, it was almost defensive, “Yeah, I did... He was becoming too much of a liability.” Alfie almost cringed at his words. Although true, they seemed too harsh as he heard them slip from his lips. His bluntness had never bothered him before but using it on you felt like a crime. Raising his hands in the air, he quickly spoke again, wanting to rephrase a little more tactfully, “I’m sorry, forgive my bluntness... but your husband-” 

Taking him by surprise, you cut him off, “Stop. I don’t need to know the reason.” Alfie stood there, mouth open, completely unprepared for the words you spoke next, “You don’t know how many times I stood beside that drunk, good for nothin’ monster as he lay passed out on the bed, just wishing I was brave enough to push a pillow against his face.” Honestly, Alfie was at a loss for words, but you were not. Taking a step closer, you were almost close enough to touch. Searching your eyes, he tried to understand the gratitude they held, but he quickly understood when you spoke again, “I’m thankful he’s gone... but I’m thankful I didn’t have to do it myself... because I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt.”  

And that was when Alfie saw them, the faded shadows across your arms... around the base of your neck... and along your cheekbone. The ghosts of bruises partially disguised by whatever powder you had covered them with. Suddenly, any worries he had about sleepless nights, dissolved. The only guilt he felt was for not killing the bastard sooner.  

Words finally found their way to his lips, trying to lighten the rather heavy interaction, “Well, ain’t this a fuckin’ turn of events? I thought I was a goner when I heard you out the front of my office... Remind me to never get on your bad side, yeah?” 

For the first time, you looked a little coy, “Ah... yeah sorry about the language. My mouth has a habit of running away with me when I’m worked up... and your men just wouldn’t listen.” 

Alfie chuckled, “With a mouth like that, you fit right in around here.” Speaking the words flicked a switch on inside his head. This feisty little firecracker of a woman really would fit right in, and God knows he was drowning in paperwork. It was high time he could do with some help. If he was being completely honest with himself, the thought of having you close by pleased him in ways he couldn’t explain. And under his protection he could make sure he never had to see those horrible faded shadows across your skin again. He would make sure of it. 

Moving back to his seat behind the desk, he gestured to the chair in front, “Why don’t cha take a seat Mrs Y/L/N, I’d like to make a little proposition... and if ya accept, those men out the front will have no choice but to listen to ya.” Resting his elbows on the desk, he leaned forward and asked, your answering smile, lighting up the edges of his heart. “How well do ya know your way around a typewriter?”