#i have to say if anyone's positive impact it's you

[discoveredreality]

you might have discovered reality but you can't discover how much you positively impact everyone around you

omg ty this is so nice😭😭😭

[caffeinatedopossum]

I don't understand why it's generally not socially acceptable to recognize your good qualities. Like I don't understand why it's bad to be a show-off or a know-it-all or to brag. Like I think most people know "those things = bad" but not why.

It also seems like people are always either waaaaay into one end of the scale where they are just so unbearably full of themselves and have preposterously high self esteem (and most people act like this is fine too? Like a lot of celebrities and white men specifically seem to be like this) and I don't understand why so many people respect them then. Or they're the complete opposite with self esteem way too low despite the fact that they have redeeming qualities.

I feel like maybe the reason it's considered bad to brag is because you might 'make' other people feel inadequate but see that seems like a stupid reason to me because the problem then is not that you stated an opinion of your own self worth but is actually that everyone else is conditioned to compare themselves to each other in a very unhealthy way. And I think instead of discouraging people from opening up about what they take pride in, what they like about themselves, what makes them feel happy or content or confident, maybe we could just be discouraging people from viewing those things as personal threats? Idk just trying to formulate some thoughts on this

[sonknuxadow]

it feels like almost every post i see about dr starline is either woobifying him and pretending he did nothing wrong or saying hes a bad character and their only reasoning for that is that he did bad things. even though hes a villain and hes supposed to do bad things thats the whole point? i dont get it . where am i

[m1shapanda]

do you think about the fact that regardless of how small your action could've been, it could've affected someone's life

[bisexualreginaldpeters]

hey i know i haven’t been active at all in the past couple of months but i just passed a year on testosterone and in two weeks i’ll be getting top surgery. im so happy and excited and in a funny way jatp really helped me through my transition. not only as a comfort show but through a supportive fandom with members in the community we’ve created so many fics and arts and headcanons that depict the characters in every shade of queer. trans fics that made me feel seen and understood in my experiences. fanart of trans luke wearing his typical cut off tanks with a binder visible inspiring me to work to become more comfortable to do the same (something i wouldn’t have been able to do without seeing that it’s even a possibility). i even realized im aroace through jatp and fandom headcanons. it’s all been really amazing and eye opening and such a fun experience (making it hurt all the more at a lack of opportunity for season two) honestly i wish i could still be just as active when i first started this blog and maybe while im recovering from surgery i’ll find the time to post again but for now i just wanted say thank you to everyone i’ve interacted in the jatp fandom you’ve helped me become more comfortable in myself in ways you may not have realized nor i thought possible. i wanted to share this in hopes of spreading some positivity even if it’s just in small ways. you all mean so much to me, even now. i hope y’all have a safe and wonderful rest of the week thank you again everyone <33

[ambrosiagourmet]

I think one of the biggest tragedies of Laios & Falin and their relationship is how much his actions impact her life. But like. Specifically how much they WOULDN’T impact her life as much if they weren’t both stuck in such a shitty abusive situation.

This part of the Falin-tries-makeup daydream hour comic is what got me thinking about it again because truly it just... it seems like such a like an offhand comment that I'm sure Laios didn't mean to be cruel or anything. That's just like. A little kid not thinking about what they are saying. ESPECIALLY when the kid in question is Laios.

But man they depended on each other SO much as kids. Too much. It really feels like they didn't have any other source of positive reinforcement, or anyone else to share themselves with. So of course an offhand comment like that has a huge impact on Falin.

Or this little bit from one of the flashbacks:

This tears me apart. Do you think it tears him apart to think about? I think it does. I think Laios holds every small failure to care for Falin against himself.

And then there's the Bigger stuff. The way that him coping with his own trauma ended up impacting her.

Like his interest in monsters. Like him going to find a ghost, and accidentally revealing Falin's magic to the whole village in the process.

Like him needing to leave. And leaving her behind.

He shaped her life so much, and he carries so much guilt for it. And again, there should have been other people there to help. The same things that made Laios need to leave home are the things that made his leaving so hard on Falin. She ate alone after that. She shouldn't have had to eat alone just because Laios wasn't there.

She was 9 when he left for school, and he was 11.

Nine. And Laios feels like he failed her because he didn't stand by her through this better. As an eleven year old.

Both of these kids deserved so much better from the world.

[primofate]

[Genshin Impact] Sitting on his lap

Note: Watch me disappear for a long time again after this update.

Warnings: some are a bit suggestive, still safe for work though. established relationship with Genshin man, please excuse and tell me if there are pronoun slips

Premise: You just felt like sitting on his lap, nothing much to it...or so you think.

Characters: Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Diluc, Itto, Kaeya, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, gn!reader

Alhaitham

Continues reading his book unfazed, one arm automatically coming securely round your waist. He shuts his book after a few seconds more and passes you an upward glance.

"Need something?"

You only hum in response with a shake of your head, indicating that you had only wanted to be close to him. He sits straighter, chest pressing closer to your back. You feel the warmth of his lips press on the left side of your neck, his head tilted to gain access to it.

There's a deep inhale as he takes in your scent and a relaxed exhale that follows. You hear him whisper, voice almost a tone lower and a rare expression of affection passes his lips.

"You're intoxicating, do you know that?"

Ayato

Chuckles as you plop yourself on his lap. He had been doing some paperwork, but he pushes those aside as he wraps both arms around your middle, moving closer as his head rests on your shoulder.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

The usual mischievous lilt in his voice doesn't disappear, he's amused that you've taken the initiative to come look for him, even though you knew he was in the middle of something. Before you could even reply, he beats you to it, his breath tickling the shell of your ear.

"Am I right to assume that you, perhaps, missed me?"

"...and what if I did?" you counter with a smile of your own. Head turning sideways to look at him. He grins, one of his hands unravelling from your middle to travel up your face, landing on your cheek, pulling you closer to meet his soft lips.

The kiss starts off gentle, just yours on his. It starts to turn hungrier, still soft, but now it feels like hot lava is churning in your belly at the increasing intensity. He pulls away for a moment only to whisper "Then I'll have to do something about that,"

Baizhu

Looks up from his medicinal notes, taking a few seconds to gaze at your back.

The first thing you feel are his hands resting atop your shoulders, then his thumbs pressing small circles near the base of your neck. You let out a pleasurable moan, relaxing in his hold. Then, as if realizing what you'd done, your hand darts atop your mouth to hide a small laugh.

You could hear Baizhu chuckling alongside with you.

"No need to hold back, darling," his thumbs continue to press circles, now downwards along your spine, continuing his massage.

"Mmmmm..." you try to stifle the next moan coming, "This could so easily be misinterpreted by anyone passing by outside," the two of you share a short laugh yet again.

"Either way, all I'm doing is giving you some love, darling,"

Cyno

He blinks as he feels you sit on him. He was always uncomfortable with the initial position, and so what he usually did was pull you and your legs up, positioning you sideways over his lap, legs somewhat dangling over the armchair. One strong arm wrapped around your back, steadying you and allowing you to lean towards him, tucking your head under his chin.

"Is something the matter?"

You shake your head and offer a simple reply. "Nothing at all, I just wanted to be close to you,"

Your honesty always managed to tug at the edge of his lips the slightest bit. In opportunities like this Cyno didn't say much, instead he liked to savour your warmth melding with his, liked to feel your breathing in sync with his.

He silently presses a kiss atop your head before closing his eyes, and staying that way for a moment longer.

Diluc

Instead of you melting into his embrace it's Diluc who melts around you. The moment you sit on his lap his arms encircle you around your shoulders and pulls you flush against him, your back to his front.

From his position, he nuzzles into your neck and sighs, his hot breath tickling your skin. He closes his eyes and shields himself from the world for a moment, basking in the safety and love emanating from you.

"Hard day?" You ask him and he mumbles something into your neck, incoherent. He repeats it as he pulls away a slight inch.

"Not more than usual," he squeezes you around the shoulders as he says so. "and you?"

You reach a hand up to sift through his hair, he sighs at the feeling and nearly melts into a puddle. "Nothing out of the ordinary," you return his sentiment.

You play with his hair as he holds you close, and in that moment there really isn't much for him to say, though his heart bursts with emotion and fondness towards you.

"Stay with me, Y/N," he makes this request from time to time, and though the two of you have already sworn yourselves to each other, perhaps he needed to say it once in a while in order to hear the answer from you.

"I'll always be here, Diluc,"

Itto

The oni is rather cluless in certain aspects of life, but when you sit on his lap he's guaranteed to be flustered. You prop yourself on his thighs, hands positioned on his legs to keep you from falling in case he made any sudden movements.

"Y-Y-Y/N?!"

"Hm?" You innocently ask, tipping your head back to playfully look at his reddening cheeks. "...Shouldn't you be used to this by now?" you ask, a laugh threatening to escape your lips because of the look on his face.

"I-Well-*ahem* Sure I am!" He puts on a brave face, but he looks like he's also sweating bullets. His hands are stiffly by his side, and he's hesitant to touch you anywhere.

You decide to comfortably lean back and Itto could not think of anything except how warm and soft you were compared to him. He had to get it together, this happened every time you sat on his lap, and it was becoming uncool for him to keep blushing when you did so. He promised himself that he would "man up".

...He still had the same reaction the next time you did it.

Kaeya

Kaeya reacts as if this was an every day thing, in fact this was always a good opportunity to flirt with you.

"Found your favourite spot have you?" Kaeya twists around to peer at you, grin plastered on his face, hand finding your thigh.

"It was tempting, you were just sitting there and it looked like a good place to rest," You returned his grin and felt his chest rumble with laughter.

"You're always welcome, snowflake," his hand squeezes your thigh, eye seemingly glinting with mischief. He shifts around on his seat, making space in between his legs and pulling you right between them, arms tight around your waist, front pressing against your back. "But you'll have to pay a small fee for this exclusive seat, I'm afraid,"

He tilts his head down to gaze at you expectantly, seemingly leaning closer. You smile, tilting your head up for you lips to meet. Kaeya doesn't half ass his kisses. It turns passionate in a split second and his hands are starting to wander up and down your thigh.

"Tsk, tsk," you let out as you part, your noses still connected, gazes steady on each other. "Are you sure it's just a kiss you want, sir?"

He chuckles, "Love, when have we ever stopped at just a kiss?"

Lyney

"Hm?" Lyney chides with a smile as he feels you become comfortable on his lap. He laughs when he realizes that you were not planning on leaving anytime soon. "Hello there my rose," His arms wrap around your waist, and his head rests on your back, snuggling into the warmth of it. He looks almost like a cat purring and rubbing onto their favourite scratching post.

It tickles you the slightest bit, so you bristle with soft laughter. "Lyney!" You warn, and he returns your sunny laugh with a chuckle, but doesn't let go.

"What's wrong, love?" He feigns innocence but now has resorted to placing butterfly kisses up and down your spine, taking a moment to lightly nip at the back of your neck before kissing back down again in a line.

By now you know he's doing it on purpose, so you twist around on his lap, and give him a half-hearted glare. "If you wanted kisses all you had to do was ask,"

Lyney finally pulls back and smirks, that same smirk that shows up when he's at the climax of a magic trick, about to reveal the grandest part. He leans back on the chair he's sitting on, placing both arms on the rests before lifting a hand up, wrists flicking upwards in a motion to beckon you over. "Well come now," the same hand tilts your chin gently towards his direction as he whispers, tongue briefly grazing over his lips, "Let me show you a real magic trick,"

Neuvillette

Neuvillette embraces you in and it almost feels like you're floating on a cloud, weightlessly relaxing in the air. His clothes help to cushion you, but at the same time Neuvillette himself is as warm as a fireplace and comfy as a sea of feathers. It feels safe in the arms of the Chief Justice, as if no harm will come to you. Sometimes you forget that you're in the presence of such an important man.

You almost always end up sliding down the slightest bit, the back of your head resting on his chest, his arm secured around your stomach. "Would you like to retire for the day?" he asks, and this is his code to ask you if you would like for him to stop working and walk back home with you.

"No, don't mind me," you whisper, burrowing further into him. You hear him sigh contentedly. With you, Neuvillette is lovestruck. Whatever is within his power, he would do it for you. He takes your hand and briefly presses his lips on the back of it. "Alright," and just like that he brings the paperwork back into his hands. Reading his notes and documents--highly confidential, by the way. Something that you shouldn't be reading--but he trusts you more than he trusts himself and that was dangerous, for someone like him.

If there ever came a day where you broke his trust, Neuvillette would most likely never trust another soul again. You alone was his deity of truth.

Scaramouche...Ruthless Prince Scaramouche?

"Whadd'you think you're doing?" his eye twitches as you jump on his lap. You glance backwards at him before turning away once again. "Getting comfy," you reply nonchalantly.

"Getting com--" the rest of the words were mumbled, you didn't catch the whole thing but it did sound like he said a very garbled and muffled "my ass" at the end of it. You ignore him and happily stay, humming as you read a book while you're at it.

Scaramouche glares at your back, taking a deep, long breath. For a moment he contemplated on just letting you do it, but the other part of him wanted to just push you off and let your butt painfully land on the ground.

As you were peacefully reading, you suddenly feel his forehead bump your back, though he wasn't holding nor hugging you at all. He stayed like that for a bit, as if he was praying to some God he believed--or didn't believe--in. After a moment he grumbles something more, but now has a firm arm around your waist.

He repositions, opening his legs a bit more to give you more space to rest in between them and then leaning forward to lazily loll his head on your shoulder, looking at the book you were reading. "...What trash are you reading now?" but his tone of voice had levelled off to calm, nearly peaceful.

"...101 ways to annoy your husband," you secretly grin when you hear him scoff. His hand finds its way to the spine of the book you're reading and easily grabs and flings it off to the side.

"You do that plenty, you don't need more ideas," his hold on you gets a little tighter, as if he wasn't going to let you go anytime soon. "Y'know what I've been reading lately...?" you feel his lips against your neck in a chaste kiss but in the next moment you feel a slight nip that sends electricity down your whole being.

"Hm?" You ask absentmindedly, the question doesn't completely register in your mind, what with his hand edging closer to the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your waist. He breathes the next words into your ear huskily, his hand sliding upwards, and you feel a shiver making its way to your shoulders.

"101 ways to make you scream,"

[angelicdanvers]

THE CLEARING | luke castellan.

pairing: luke castellan x fem!reader prompt: “i could admire you all day.” by @normal-internet-user

summary: a sweet moment in the clearing of pearls. takes place before tlt. wc: 1.2k

a/n: i'm back in my luke castellan phase and this time, unapologetically :') ik ik, he's the enemy. totally :D i haven't written in so long, i really hope you guys enjoy this! i eventually will make a collection of these on my wattpad (of the same username). have a great day/night! <3

camp half-blood was just as rhythmic as any other day. the campers were up and running, tending to chores or activities, chiron was introducing some new campers, mr. d had his legs hitched up on the table and was slumbering.

and yet — somehow — something still felt off to y/n. she couldn’t put her finger on it. for a child of ares, she was undeniably observant of her surroundings, ready to feed a punch, but she didn’t see nor feel anyone around. 

often times, she realized it was her subconscious warning her of her siblings’ antics. despite coming off as a cold hearted bitch, y/n was quite the opposite and everyone in camp knew. whether they experienced her dual sidedness face to face, they heard of it and believed it. it wasn’t common for all the ares children, even clarisse, to like one person, sibling, mutually. yet y/n was that sibling.

she didn’t mind it. the eighteen year old was one of the oldest and made it her duty to keep everyone in check, even if that meant going against her easy way out — anger. her siblings often appreciated that despite not showing it, but sometimes clarisse had a lot to say.

this definitely wasn’t one of those times, though.

clarisse had just come by and helped y/n braid two of their younger sisters’ hair, the two chatting normally and without any apparent trouble.

then what in the world kept nagging her?

she kept sensing an odd aura around camp. maybe it was the gods’ doing. maybe.

sighing, she sat on the cabin floor, watching as the last of her brothers walked out. she began tying her laces, fixing the tongue on her boots. her instincts picked up as she heard soft crunches from the side of the cabin. grabbing her sword, she walked out diligently, observing the area around her and positioning the sword towards the crunches. she carefully examined the reflection, absolutely no sight of anyone. stiff, she shrugged off her unease, heading down the paths and to her clearing.

the clearing had a waterfall cascading at the heart, a sparkling little pool in the centre. for nine in the morning, the earth was still dewy and the crisp scent of the woodlands surrounded her senses.

inhaling deeply, y/n stepped towards her favourite boulder and slid her shirt off. one by one, she stripped down until she was in her bikini, and fixed her locks to be appropriate for swimming. once ready, she slowly dipped her foot in, the coolness of the water pulsing through her body and sending a jolt within her. 

a mere moment later, y/n was wading in the water, beginning to take laps around the pool. she always had a surge of energy in water that always made her wonder if she was actually poseidon’s daughter — of course, she wasn’t, but maybe she had to thank him for her love of water. maybe. maybe it was just her and the gods really didn't impact her.

submerging underneath, the girl opened her eyes and scanned the bottom. on her lucky days, she’d find little pearls the nymphs would leave behind. she'd have to personally thank them one day. her growing collection was all towards making special beads for campers who’d been there for a significant amount of time, symbolizing their individuality. she was thinking of giving annabeth and luke one to add to their necklaces before all else.

squinting, y/n saw a shimmering area in the corner. charging towards it, she picked it up and examined it with her hands; the water was getting rather hazy. these pearls were heavier, and with more texture than she’d ever felt.

smiling to herself, she carefully held it within her palms, swimming further up and merging out of water. she felt the sun shining on her, and she braced for the sudden light adjustment.

and then the sun was gone.

her brows furrowed, and y/n cracked open an eye, glancing towards where she felt the sun mere moments ago. instead of trees and simple clouds, she saw a lean figure wearing an orange shirt and khaki cargos, arms folded across their chest. she knew those arms.

“gods, what are you doing here?” y/n questioned, slightly lowering herself into the water and staring at the male before her.

he stifled a chuckle, his signature smirk playing on his lips. “what? can’t a guy be with his girlfriend?”

“luke,” she warned, “didn’t we agree to not be around each other unless we actually had a plan to sneak off?”

the curly haired boy shrugged. “like that’ll stop me.”

“luke, c’mon. if anything, we can’t have anyone find out like this.”

he shook his head, “they won’t know a thing.” he nodded towards annabeth’s cap. 

y/n had to admit, his desperation to be with her in any way was the most adorable and hot thing she’d ever witnessed. “did you at least ask her for it?”

“yes ma’am.”

y/n smiled toothily, wading towards the edge and climbing out. luke watched her every move, enthralled by her beauty. he wasn’t sure how he even convinced her to go on that first date, considering she had a knee on his chest and a sword to his neck. too bad he’s the best swordsman and pinned her down next. 

how could she say no after that?

she found him quite intriguing as well.

luke followed his girl as she went over to the boulder, grabbing her towel and gently drying herself off. he headed up behind her, taking the towel from her arms and drying her back off for her. 

“that still hasn’t healed,” he noted, tracing the scar on her shoulder blade. y/n’s body melted at his touch, and the chills she felt were replaced with flames. 

“yeah,” she whispered as luke softly turned her around, wrapping the towel around her body. he brought her body closer to his, putting his index to her chin and tilting her head up.

“you know, i could admire you all day.”

“and why is that?”

he laughed, “with that sexy soul and sweet hobby of collecting pearls, how could i not?”

y/n felt her cheeks grow hot, a soft grin making its way to her face. “i could say the same, pretty boy.”

"who are you giving those pearls to?"

"if i said who, wouldn't the surprise be ruined?" she quirked, tilting her head to the side a little. "eh, word on the street keeps mentioning the best swordsman."

luke smirked, satisfied with her answer, his black hair gleaming in the sly sunlight. y/n cupped the left side of his face, tracing her fingers on the scar to his right. their eyes couldn’t leave one another’s, an enigmatic energy floating amongst them.

“i want to kiss you,” luke’s voice was lower than before, his grip tightening around her waist.

“do it,” y/n mustered up, fluster traversing through every bone in her body. 

without second thought, luke pressed the girl against his body, capturing her lips. y/n’s fingers trailed to his hair, tugging at the curls as their lips intwined passionately.

the teenagers yearned for each other, their love enveloping around them as they remained  in their locked position. luke’s lips were as light as a feather but had a hold on y/n that she was sure no other could.

breathless, the two pulled away for a moment before luke pulled her in again for a quick, feverish kiss. “i love you,” he rasped, staring deep into her riveting eyes.

“i love you, luke.”

their admiration could only grow from there. 

or so they thought.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 11: hate/angry sex with scaramouche from genshin impact

warnings: rough sex, degrading, choking, cockstepping, cock-strap traditions, bondage, hair pulling, belly bulging

notes: i mean scaramouche guys not wanderer!!!! scaramouche when he was a fatui harbinger!!!!

“f-fuck! you think… you can just appear out of nowhere so suddenly — guhhg! and take the seat of the eighth?” the short puppet tries to muffle his groans and whines, bucking his hips up into your feet the more you step down on his crotch.

how did it get here again? right. scaramouche and his mouth running all over the place, saying how you were a nobody who appeared out of nowhere and took the seat of the eighth harbinger with nothing to prove. at first, you just ignored him. he was known to be crude and loves to run his mouth all over the place after all. but over time, the constant jabs and threats to your title became a little bit too annoying.

which lead to here. his hands tied up behind his back, kneeling in front of you on the rug covered floor of your office as you step on his tiny cock all the while reading some work papers like it was nothing. of course, someone must teach the puppet some manners, yes?

paying no mind to his hissing and venom covered words, you only continue to keep your foot in place on his crotch. how much time had passed by now? who knows.

you were just skimming through some much needed paperwork while using the sixth’s cock as a makeshift footrest. he had already came in his shorts already and the sheer embarrassment of coming untouched was eating scaramouche up inside.

after finishing up the stacks of documents in your hand, you finally decided to pay some attention to the poor whining thing kneeling before you. cheeks flushed red, slight drool slipping down his chin mixed with his own blood as he bites down on his lip. there was a cute growing stain in his dark shorts.

what an amusing sight. perhaps this newfound pet of yours could be given a reward.

reaching a hand down, you pat his head gently. that snapped him out of his momentary daze as he looks up at you, confused yet also slightly relieved. but his relief doesn’t last long when your hand fists at his purple hair, pulling him up before bending him over your desk. this new position had balladeer’s mind reeling with all sorts of imaginations.

he had always wanted you to just bend him over your desk, taking him in any way or form you desired as he cries in your hands about how big you were. or how you were fucking him so good. or how your assistant could hear you two. call it whatever you will, but balladeer wasn’t as sharp and strong as his tongue.

he wanted to be used by you. and this new position you thrown him into was making him reel with excitement.

“such dirty mouth you have, balladeer. no one ever taught you a lesson, huh? but that’s okay. i’ll be sure to teach you a good lesson, you filthy slut” you hiss in a low voice, making quick work of his shorts as the fabrics pool down to his ankles. the warmth of the fireplace providing heat into the office still doesn’t stop the short man from shivering. excitement? probably. but also mixed with a hint of eagerness and enthusiasm as his hips twitch back to you.

“h-hah?! what did you just call me? i’m your superior, eighth. you’re nothing but just a replacement. if anyone should be taught a lesson, it’s you!” scaramouche yells, trying to keep up the facade of the ever-angry harbinger lord. yet the slight quiver in his voice sways from his words.

he was excited. more so when he hears your belt unbuckle and pants unzip as the wet sounds of lube follows. he could feel your hand spreading his asscheeks apart before your tip presses against his puckering hole. fuck, just put it in already. he even prepped himself for you just so he can be used, so hurry it up!

almost as if sensing his inner thoughts, you let out a chuckle. his hope was already prepped as the remains of the lube he used still glistening around his pink rim.

“such a filthy slut” with that, you bottom out inside him in one thrust, making scaramouche choke on his scream of pleasure.

ah, you felt so good inside him! so big and girthy, mushroom tip kissing his stomach and causing a belly bulge in his tiny form. you easily grazed against his prostate and he was so sure that you were fucking him full of your fat cock, rearranging his insides. you felt even better than those stupid small toys he used!

wasting no time and giving him no moment to collect himself, your hand sneaks up behind him, wrapping around his slim throat. putting just enough pressure to remind him of his place to the sides of his neck, you start to move your hips. the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and scaramouche’s choked up whines and punched out shrill moans fill up the confined space of your office.

briefly, when pulling him up and making him arch his back against your chest, you could see a cute bulge appear and disappear into his stomach. a result of the size of your strap. just seeing that was enough to make you proud. you were fucking his stomach and he loved that feeling.

“you love that? you love having me inside you, balladeer? look down here. my cock is fucking your tummy” you hum softly to his ear, free hand tapping a finger against his smooth skin. just as he was told, scaramouche looks down to where your finger was tapping.

oh archons, have mercy. just as you said, there was a bulge in his stomach. appearing and disappearing whenever your hips would pull back before meeting his own again and again. seeing that, the small puppet lets out a weak mewl as he comes all over your desk, leaving his thighs shaking.

seeing that some of your work papers got dirtied, you tighten your hold around his slim neck, making the puppet whine deliriously as he drools.

“no good. can’t have my slut dirtying my papers. but it’s okay. i’ll make sure to discipline you well until you learn to ask me for permission before you cum” all scaramouche could do was nod over and over. feeling the familiar feeling of orgasm tightening in his core again.

you would have to teach him well.

[maryrouille]

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

[starfinss]

ᴏꜰ ᴛᴇᴀᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇᴅᴅʟɪɴɢ ᴍᴇʟᴜꜱɪɴᴇꜱ — ᴡʀɪᴏᴛʜᴇꜱʟᴇʏ

𝘍𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘰𝘮: Genshin Impact

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: Wriothesley + Reader

𝘙𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨: NSFW 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 12,925

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: After beginning work as a doctor at the Fortress of Meropide, Siegwinne decides you and the Duke are a good match, and will do anything in her power to get you to together, even if she has to take drastic measures.

Or, alternatively, Siegwinne adds a little something extra to the Duke's tea. Chaos ensues.

As soon as the suture needle so much as touched the man sitting before you, he was already flinching away.

“That hurts!” He cried, “please, doctor, be gentle with me.”

It was almost laughable, really. Monsieur Phillip was a hardened criminal, or so you’d been told. He was a career criminal, you remembered the Duke remarking, and he’d been sentenced to serve time in the Fortress of Meropide for a myriad of things, such as assault, and even attempted murder, but here he was, a hulking mass of a man, whimpering in pain at the slightest prick of a needle. 

“Hush,” you said, tutting gently, “the quicker I start, the quicker it’s over. Now hold still.”

He flinched back again, eyeing the needle like it was out to get him. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Please try and relax. I can assure you, I did go to medical school.”

Before he could say anything else, you made the first stitch, carefully, but quickly enough so as not to cause him too much pain. Even with the numbing gel you’d applied, it seemed that the patient’s pain threshold was quite low. It usually removed enough sensation that any leftover pain would be no more than a pinch, but even with that, you could see tears beading at his lash line.

A hardened criminal, indeed.

You finished the sutures quickly before bandaging the injured shoulder and giving Phillip some care instructions.

“And,” you said, “no more getting into altercations about work times, okay?”

Phillip sighed, casting his eyes away from you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

You smiled, kindly. “That’s doctor to you.”

It wasn’t wholly unexpected. Men tended to have lower pain tolerances than women did. You’d given stitches to many people before, and when it came to whining, the men tended to be the most common offenders. 

After Phillip left, you checked up on a woman who was resting in one of the infirmary beds, and after taking her temperature and walking away with your clipboard, you nearly tripped over Siegwinne, who had somehow snuck into your path without you noticing.

“Archons,” you exclaimed, a hand flying over your heart, “I need to put a bell on you.”

Siegwinne ignored your remark. “May I see the patient’s chart?”

You handed it to her. “The patient shows signs of improvement. Her fever has broken, and her delirium has started to clear up. She should make a full recovery.”

Siegwinne hummed meaningfully. “Very good. I was worried about that one. I am glad to hear she is healing well.”

You nodded, then turned, starting towards your desk, but before you could make it, Siegwinne called your name, making you pause.

“Yes?”

Her expression remained impassive, eyes curious, unsuspecting, and she tucked the clipboard under her arm as she closed the distance between you.

“Have you seen the Duke today?”

There it was. You didn’t know what you’d been expecting aside from this. Ever since Siegwinne had caught onto the fact that you’d developed a crush on the Duke, she’d tried to do everything in her power to set you up with him. In the beginning, that was all it was. A crush. It was a crush in the same way one would develop an infatuation with a colleague or schoolmate, based on their appearance or the limited positive interactions they had with them. It was no secret that Wriothesley was an attractive man. He was tall, and handsome, anyone with eyes could see that. You’d heard the whispers among female inmates and guards alike. You were not unique in feeling some form of attraction to him. 

But to Siegwinne, your silly crush was an opportunity. 

“You’re a good woman,” she told you, “and His Grace is always stressed. I fear for his health. I think you would be the right person to keep him company. You are a good match. Your influence and affection would do him much good.”

Siegwinne came to you with this a few months after you’d started work at the Fortress, completely out of nowhere, stunning you to silence. You had no idea how she’d caught on to your feelings, and when you expressed as much, she went into a rambling tangent about human behavior, something about the dilation of pupils, and how she’d been taking notes, and that was when you cut her off.

“Absolutely not.”

But nevertheless, she persisted. 

Siegweinne’s matchmaking attempts rarely ended conclusively, since she tended to see things as a logical cause and effect, and did not at all fit the way any normal human would attempt to court another. They mostly involved putting you and Wriothesley into situations that forced you to speak or interact with one another, with little to no regard to how much said situations were an inconvenience to you. Her first attempt, as such, embarrassingly enough, involved telling the Duke you’d had some kind of accident with an inmate, and when he came to the infirmary to check in, finding you unharmed and working at your desk, all that ensued was a lot of confusion. You wondered why he’d come all that way to see you, and he was surprised to find you not laying on one of the infirmary beds.

But, what her attempts did do, was make the way you felt about Wriothesley, which was no more than a passing fancy at first, grow into something more. 

And despite your best efforts, that only made Siegwinne latch on even harder. 

“Hello?” Siegwinne said, shaking you from your thoughts, “I believe it is polite to answer a question when asked one, or have human customs changed?”

You brushed off her unintentional rudeness, instead answering what she’d asked you.

“No,” you said, “I have not seen His Grace today. He’s a busy man, Siegwinne. You know that.”

“Well, you should go see him.”

You sighed, leaning down to take your clipboard from under her arm, then crossing to your desk.

“I don’t have a reason to go see him,” you said, sitting down, “and like I said, His Grace is a busy man.”

She didn’t push after that, simply going back to work as you did yours, and you tried to put it out of your mind. You and Wriothesley were friends, you’d say. Even though you usually found yourselves meeting in less than normal circumstances, you were still fond of him. You enjoyed his frank, matter-of-fact personality, and dry sense of humor, and he seemed to enjoy your company as well. Your relationship was as casual as it could be between you and a man who was technically your boss, and friendly enough that you had conversations outside of work related matters. You’d never let Siegwinne know this, but her repeated and clumsy attempts at setting you up were not without some benefits. 

That was fine, you supposed. You’d bonded over Siegwinne and her antics, and built a friendship over a shared love of tea, as well as an author you both enjoyed, among other common interests. But that was it. As much as Siegwinne, and, begrudgingly, you, would like to say otherwise, you and The Duke were only friends. 

And, it seemed, as you settled into that fact quite comfortably, Siegwinne only grew more brazen in her attempts at Melusine style matchmaking. 

Her latest attempt involved trying to shut you in a locked room with The Duke, which failed when Wriothesley produced the master key in order to open the door. It happened a little over a week ago, which made you nervous, because Siegwinne didn’t like letting too much time pass between her less than gentle shoves. You were almost completely certain that Wriothesley knew what was happening, he’d have to be stupid not to, though he hadn’t said anything about it. This was probably to spare you from any further embarrassment, which you appreciated. 

The situation was hopeless. You knew that well. But Siegwinne didn’t, and that was beginning to become a problem. You didn’t know why you’d let her get away with this for the handful of months that you had, but maybe, deep down, you hoped that something would actually come from all her meddling. 

And apart from that, you had a certain degree of professionalism to uphold. Wriothesley was your boss, and you were both his employee and his doctor. As much as you found yourself wishing otherwise, pursuing your feelings, even if that was an option, just wasn’t ethical. 

But still, you could dream, you supposed. Dreaming was harmless. 

“I need you to run an errand for me.”

You turned in your chair, raising an eyebrow at Siegwinne, who was staring over at you innocently, a thermos in her hands. You looked at it, then back at her, puzzled.

“Siegwinne, I’m not in the mood.”

She frowned. “To do your job? How unbecoming. I’m simply asking you to deliver this tea to the Duke. His Grace is suffering from a headache. I delivered some to him this morning, but the problem still persists.”

You glanced at the thermos again. “Tea? What’s in it?”

She immediately became defensive, and for a moment, you almost felt guilty for doubting her. 

“Medicine!” She cried, “what do you take me for? I’ve brewed a painkiller into the tea. It should help with His Grace’s headache. If you don’t trust me, you can take a sip yourself.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why can’t you do it?”

Her brows pinched together in annoyance, and maybe a little indignance. “I have to go see a patient, thank you. A young man is complaining of nausea, and finds it hard to stand because of it, so I am going to see him in his cell. Now, will you bring His Grace the tea, or not?”

You sighed. In your own mind, your hesitance was completely justified. Siegwinne had tried to trick you into being alone with Wriothesley many times before this, but then again, if the Duke was actually feeling unwell, and you refused to bring him medicine, what kind of doctor would you be? 

And so, you relented. With another sigh, you stood, snatching the thermos from Siegwinne’s outstretched hand. 

“Fine,” you said, “I’ll be back as soon as I drop it off.”

If Siegwinne was disappointed by this, she hid it well. She simply nodded, then crossed over to her desk to busy herself with her medical bag. You glanced over a few more things at your own desk before scooping up the thermos and leaving the infirmary after calling a quick few words of parting to Siegwinne, who only nodded. 

You shivered a little as you left the infirmary. Siegwinne tended to keep it warmer there, with a space heater sitting in the corner to combat the cold dampness of the rest of the Fortress of Meropide. It was better for the patients, she said, if they had somewhere nice and warm to rest and recover. You were fairly certain she also said something about humans and their preference for warmth, but that wasn’t important at present. 

The clang of your boots against the metal floors rang out as you walked, head held high, thermos in your grip. The air smelled of iron and brine, a scent you’d grown used to in the time you’d been working in the Fortress. Artificial light cast everything in a sort of ominous hue, and the low strength of it left everything in partial shadow. It used to make you nervous, not knowing what hid behind them, using them like masks. Now you knew that whatever was waiting for you was something you could handle.

You glanced down at the thermos in your hands. It was warm, likely just brewed. There was no way Siegwinne would have you serve the Duke cold tea. The thermos was plain; unassuming. It was slate gray, probably stainless steel. You turned it over in your hands, studying it. It was just tea. You had no reason to think it was anything other than that. But with Siegwinne, you’d learned to expect the unexpected.

Absently, you stepped into the elevator to take you down to the administrative floor. The car jerked, and with a mechanical clank, began to move. You turned the thermos over in your hands again. It’s just tea. For the Duke. Your poor, ailing boss. You twisted your mouth. It was fine. There was no way Siegwinne would ever do anything to actually harm Wriothesley. You tapped your nails against the surface of the thermos, almost jumping from your skin when the elevator came to an abrupt stop as it reached its destination, jostling you where you stood and ejecting you from your tangled thoughts. 

You sighed as you left the elevator, tucking the thermos into your arms and against your chest. Everything was fine. If Siegwinne took anything seriously, it was health. You’d caught her staring intently at you on many occasions, and when you asked her about it, she told you she was making sure you were healthy, in a very matter-of-fact tone, like it was obvious. She may be odd, but she wasn’t going to try and harm anyone. 

As you reached the doors to the Duke’s office, you reached into the pocket of your skirt, digging out the key to the lock. Because of the Fortress’s status as a prison, it was only natural that important areas such as the office of the warden would remain locked. The only way to get in was if you had a key or if you were invited by Wriothesley himself. There was also the off chance that the Duke left the doors unlocked, but that was uncommon. Regardless, before you put the key in the lock, you raised your hand, knocking on the door with a great clang. 

“Your Grace?” you called, though it was unlikely he heard you through the thick steel, “I’ll be coming in now. I have some tea for you.”

And with that, you pushed the key into place, twisting. With a grunt of effort, you pushed the doors open.

It was as you were opening the door that you heard him, calling to you. It was muffled under the mechanical clank of the doors, making you only vaguely aware of his call of your name, and you hurried to close the door to answer him. The lock clicked as you did, signifying that the mechanism had reset to its previous locked state. 

You expected Wriothesley to call out to you again after your lack of response, or even possibly to come see you. It was unlikely that Siegwinne would send you on an errand without previously announcing your arrival. But instead, you were met with silence. You gripped the thermos more tightly, hesitating.

“Your Grace?”

You heard something else then. A soft intake of breath, only able to be heard because of the complete lack of noise, save for the quiet hum of machinery from beyond the doors. Then, you could hear him clearing his throat. 

“Yes,” you heard Wriothsley say, from up the stairs, “up here.”

You sighed, relieved, as you made your way up the curving staircase and into the main office.

And as for things you expected to see, this was not among them.

Wriothesley was sitting at his desk, but he looked more than a little disheveled. His coat had been discarded, draped over the back of his chair, and his tie was undone, hanging loose around his neck. His waistcoat was also unbuttoned, as were the top two buttons of the dress shirt he wore underneath the garment. His gloves had also been removed, laying out on his desk beside an empty teacup. His hair was tousled, more than usual, and his face…

You furrowed your brows, suddenly concerned. His face was flushed, a deep pink settled in the apples of his cheeks, very evident against his usually pale skin. Breath, feather soft, expelled itself through parted lips, almost too quickly, as he looked over at you, brows pinching together, as if pained or troubled before the expression calmed. Wriothesley straightened, clearing his throat again, and he was hurriedly fixing his clothing, deft fingers doing up the buttons of his shirt, smoothing back over his hair. 

His eyes fell to the thermos in your hands, lingering, before sliding up to your face. 

You stared at him, your concern growing more by the second, and after a beat, you crossed to the desk, setting the thermos down.

“Your Grace,” you said, “I’ve brought you painkillers for your headache, but you look… May I examine you? You do not look like you’re feeling well.”

“Examine me,” he repeated, then took a slow breath, squeezing his eyes shut before shaking his head, as if clearing away a fog. He swallowed, raking a hand through his hair, and it was then that you spotted sweat beading on his forehead. 

“Yes,” you said, gently, already in doctor mode, “please, let me help.”

He cleared his throat, for what was probably the third time, and you narrowed your eyes. You were rapidly beginning to get suspicious in addition to concerned. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Absently, you found yourself mentally scolding yourself for neglecting to bring your medical bag.

“I’m fine,” he said, though he certainly didn’t look fine, “please, don’t trouble yourself. You’ve come all this way for me, so would you at least sit with me for a cup of tea?”

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift. It was fine, though, you supposed. Staying around wasn’t a terrible idea. It would give you a chance to more closely study the Duke’s behavior, and try and figure out what the problem might be. And so, you stepped to the table off to the side, picking a clean tea cup from the collection displayed there. 

“I don’t need any, really,” you said as you leaned over to take the thermos from the desk, “Siegwinne made this for you, for your head. I am happy to sit and talk with you, though, if you want me to.”

Wriothesley smiled easily. “If you like, I can brew you a cup from my personal collection of teas. What do you like?”

You flushed, feeling special, and you turned to busy yourself with arranging his cup of tea to hide the pink in your cheeks. 

“You already know my preferences, Your Grace,” you said, over your shoulder, “just a cup of earl gray is fine.”

You heard shuffling, then the sound of a drawer being pulled open, and you knew the Duke was rifling through the collection of teas he kept stored in his desk. Shifting your focus, you removed the small travel cup attached to the top of the thermos, then unscrewed the lid. Immediately, you were hit with the scent of the tea. It was unexpectedly sweet, and sort of floral. It certainly wasn’t the Duke’s usual style, that was for sure. You took another lungful of it, and could make out notes of various medicinal herbs, including rosemary and feverfew, both known to help with headaches. You could also smell a hint of lavender. But there was still that floral, sort of rosy scent, undercut by the bitter, citrus aroma of the feverfew. It smelled a bit like rainbow roses; of petrichor and morning dew and sweet fresh petals. It certainly had herbs in it, some of which were known to help with what the Duke needed, but the combination of them that you were able to discern was puzzling to say the least.

You put it out of your mind, chalking up the roses to being there to help with the bitterness of the feverfew. With a sigh, you poured the steaming liquid into the teacup. It was sort of a deep rouge color, bordering on purple. A nice color, you decided, and not entirely unexpected with what was contained in the tea. You placed the cup on a saucer, then carried it, alongside the still half filled thermos over to the desk, setting them before the Duke. In exchange, he handed you the tea bag you’d requested, which you accepted gladly. 

After you’d filled a cup with boiling water, which the Duke always seemed to have on hand in any nearby kettle, ready for a quick cup. You added the tea bag, as well as a few spoonfuls of sugar, then took your seat on the couch by the tea table. 

Wriothesley’s face twisted as he took the first sip from his cup, seemingly troubled. 

“It’s very sweet.”

You tilted your head. “Is it not to your liking? I’ll be sure to tell Siegwinne to tweak the recipe.”

Wriothesley waved a dismissive hand. “No,” he said, “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not my usual style, but I don’t dislike it.”

You nodded meaningfully, blowing over your tea once more. 

“How are things over in the infirmary?” He asked, and you sat up straighter, engaged. 

“Fine. The usual. I had a man who was scared of needles just before I came over,” you said, “I’d barely touched him before he was telling me to stop.”

Wriothesley laughed, amused. He took another swallow of tea.

 “Oh, really?” He said, “Monsieur Phillip, I suspect? That man always gets into brawls, but is terrified of medical treatment. And he never wins those brawls. The gardes always have to pull the other guy off of him.”

You hid your smile behind your teacup. “I know,” you said, “Siegwinne is always scolding him when he comes in for being reckless.”

Wriothesley rested his head on a closed fist, thoughtful, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“Maybe a few rounds in the Pankration Ring would do him some good,” he said, and you raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t go putting any ideas in his head,” you said, “he might become a permanent resident of the infirmary if he starts entering into any matches.”

Wriothesley made a face, pale blue eyes moving to rest somewhere in the depths of his teacup. “Maybe he’d pick up a few things about proper combat, though.”

It was your turn to laugh. “Maybe, but at the cost of his health.”

You enjoyed this. It was hardly the first time you’d been invited to stay for tea, in addition to being personally invited to tea a handful of times before. Wriothesley’s presence was pleasant and inviting, despite his intimidating stature and appearance. His height dwarfed many other people, and you’d seen few as tall as he was, save for the Iudex, who was far more slim than the Duke was. Where Monsieur Neuvillette was tall and lithe, Wriothesley was broad and powerfully built. His sheer size alone, made only more prominent by the bulky coat he wore around his shoulders, was enough to intimidate anyone.

But despite that, he was an amicable and good-humored man, earnest and straightforward. He made you feel at ease, and your growing affection for him settled low and warm in the spot behind your heart. 

His face was getting more pink, you noticed, with a start. You took another sip of tea, watching him closely. His brow furrowed, just briefly, and he was fiddling with the bands of leather around his throat, as if they were suddenly too tight. He shifted in his seat, seemingly uncomfortable.

“Your Grace?” You said, and he seemed to snap out of whatever had overtaken him, regarding you with raised eyebrows and an expectant expression.

“Sorry,” he said, “what were you saying?”

You studied him, eyes narrowed, and he laughed, a little awkwardly.

“You’re doing that thing Siegwinne does,” he said, “the thing she does with her eyes. I don’t know how you replicated it so perfectly. There’s nothing wrong, I promise. It’s just suddenly kind of hot in here. Do you feel that?”

You shook your head. In fact, to you, the room was cold. Just as cold as the rest of the Fortress, save for the infirmary. It was the reason for the thermal lining in the pale blue overcoat of your uniform, the color that marked you as medical staff, as well as the reason for the thicker uniform fabric worn by the majority of the other general staff. 

“No,” you said, and Wriothesley looked puzzled. 

“Oh,” he muttered, puzzled, “I was warm earlier, but I’m starting to get… hot now. I don’t suppose that’s normal?”

You cracked a smile at that. “No, I don’t think so.”

A spell of silence passed before your mind snapped back to what he’d just said.

“You were feeling overly warm earlier? When did that start?”

Wriothesley furrowed his brows, considering your question before answering. He took another sip from his cup, then poured more of the contents of the thermos into it.

“This morning,” he said, “I can’t pinpoint exactly when it started, but it was maybe shortly after I had a cup of tea.”

You snorted, amused. “You realize how little that narrows it down, don’t you? You drink more tea than anyone I know, Your Grace. I need a measure of time, not cups of tea.”

He chuckled at that. “I apologize. I believe it was after Siegwinne delivered the tea she made for my head. Which is feeling much better, by the way. I think what I’ve been drinking while we’ve been chatting has helped kick the rest of it. I’m almost finished with the thermos.”

Suddenly, you made the connection. 

Almost robotically, and with learned efficiency, you went over the contents that you’d smelled in the tea, along with their uses. Feverfew, maybe some lavender, and rosemary. All of those had various uses, though they all had one thing in common, which was pain relief. Finally, there was the rainbow rose. The petals and buds were used for medicinal purposes, and could be used as such, similarly to common red roses, for anything ranging from headaches to a sore throat. 

Something was missing. Something was wrong. The scent itself had been off.

“The tea,” you said, “from before. Was it sweet?” 

Wriothesley nodded, taking another gulp, and finally, pouring the last of the contents of the thermos into the cup. “This brew is sweeter, though.”

You stood, then reached for his teacup, bringing it to your nose and inhaling. You caught the same things as before, but as you mulled them over, something else clicked. 

Siegwinne wouldn’t. Would she?

“It’s really hot,” Wriothesley said, and you could see the sweat beaded at his hairline, sticking the hair at his temples to his skin, cresting down his cheekbone. 

You reached out, and when the back of your hand made contact with his burning forehead, he flinched, making a soft sound in surprise and alarm.

“Why is your skin so much colder than mine?”

Your skin wasn’t cold. In fact, your body was at an average temperature, kept warm by the layers of clothing you were wearing. By your own assessment, your hands were probably relatively warm. You frowned, reaching into your pocket and withdrawing your penlight, circling the desk to situate yourself closer to the Duke.

The way he was looking at you when you drew closer was strange. Almost hungry. Famished, ice blue hues swept over your form, and you watched as his hands, previously resting on the desk, folded in front of him, over his lap. 

You moved closer, leaning halfway over to him, hand making contact with his face to tilt it towards you. He flinched at your touch, breath shuddering, and you studied his eyes closely before muttering a warning and shining your light into his face, instructing him to follow the light with his gaze.

“This isn’t… necessary,” he protested, weakly, and you ignored him. His pupils were blown wide, dark pits in the center of the sky blue of his irises. 

“Mydriasis,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him as you switched off your light and pocketed it. 

Your hand dropped from his face to just under where his jaw met his throat. You pushed aside the leather straps, just enough to access his pulse point, pressing two fingers to the spot. His heart was racing, quick and erratic, and you felt him shudder, breath heavy, his jaw setting tightly as your hands drifted across his skin, probing and searching. His skin was burning with heat, feverishly so, and coupled with the elevated heart rate, the blown pupils, and the way he seemed to flinch whenever you made contact with his skin directly, you could only make one conclusion.

“So,” you said, backing up to stand up straight, “this started after you had the first brew Siegwinne dropped off, yes?”

Wriothesley nodded. “It did.”

His voice. It had dropped several octaves in the time you’d been examining him, and you cursed the effect it had on you, coursing hot through your bloodstream. It felt so deeply unprofessional for a doctor to even think of her patient in the way the brief thoughts that fluttered through your mind suggested you do.

“Is it worse after this second batch?” You forced yourself to say.

He huffed a laugh. “You could say that.”

And it was then when you noticed, from where you were standing, that Wriothesley’s belt was undone. Rosy hues colored your cheeks as you yanked your gaze away.

“You need to tell me all of your symptoms,” you said, “spare no detail.”

Panic briefly flashed across his face as he crossed and uncrossed his legs.

“Hot,” he said, “I feel far too warm. Do I have a fever?”

You narrowed your eyes. He was purposely hiding the truth, but nonetheless, you answered.

“Yes,” you said, “but I believe it’s because your body is overheated and not because you're fighting an infection. I just said not to leave anything out, Your Grace, please tell me everything. As your doctor, I–”

“I’m… Archons, I don’t want to say it,” he paused, searching, almost frantically for something else to focus on. “What was in that tea?”

You swallowed, leaning back to rest against the desk. 

“Herbs,” you said, “rosemary, feverfew, and lavender. All meant to help with pain and headaches. But I could also smell rainbow roses.”

Wriothesley brightened. “Yes, I thought that was what I tasted. It brings such a unique flavor to the table, don’t you agree?”

You fought a smile, endeared by him, but now was hardly the time. You needed to figure out what was wrong with him, not to discuss tea. 

“Yes,” you said, “but it was strange. Too sweet. It only gets to that level when the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose are included alongside the powdered roots of a rainbow rose, in which case the combination can make–”

Oh. Oh. 

As you were talking, it clicked into place. The scent, which you’d thought was much too sweet before, suddenly made sense. Sumeru rose must have been the final ingredient. It was flavorless when consumed, but smelled quite sweet. When combined with rainbow roses, the scent of the two grew overpoweringly saccharine. Unless diluted, it would almost resemble a syrup. If the rainbow rose petals were boiled alongside the powdered roots of the Sumeru rose, it could become a powerful medicine able to soothe a bad cough. But if the roots of both plants were powdered, the results were…

You cursed yourself for being so stupid. Of course, Siegwinne would see nothing wrong with this. Medicine was medicine, regardless of what the outcome of its ingestion spelled, so long as it got the desired result. To her, the suggestion of something unbecoming would be taken with great offense. 

“‘Can make?’” Wriothesley supplied, and were already imagining the ways in which you were going to rip Siegwinne a new one.

“I need your symptoms. Now. I am a doctor, Your Grace, I promise I will be as non judgemental as possible, just please–”

“Damn it,” he interjected, face hidden in his hands, “I’m aroused.”

Anything you’d just been about to say left your mind, swept away by dread, because you knew what was happening.

Siegwinne was evil. You could already picture her expectant, innocent face, asking just how her little ‘experiment’ had gone, and it filled you with boiling rage. 

Though, there was also the fact that she could simply be misinformed. Melusines had different reactions to some medicines than humans did, and it was equally possible that she simply thought that, if dosed with the tea, the Duke’s feelings for you, if he had any, would just be made more prominent. For her sake, you hoped it was the latter. 

“Aroused,” you parroted, trying hard to stay professional and failing miserably, because this was unethical on so many levels, “tell me more about that.”

He made a strangled, startled sound. “You want to know more?” 

You wanted to melt into the floor. “I need to know how strong the dose you’ve been given is.”

“Dose?!” He said, “of what?”

You refused to look at him. “When mixed together, the powdered roots of a Sumeru rose and a rainbow rose create a powerful aphrodisiac. I believe the first dose you received was a weaker version, and this one is much stronger.”

Silence followed as Wriothesley took in the information, then cleared his throat.

“Do you have an antidote?”

You raised your head to look at him properly. He looked almost haggard, the flush from his face creeping down his neck. 

“There… kind of isn’t one.”

Wriothesley made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat, hands raising to card through his hand, and it was then that you noticed it. Now that his hands were no longer hiding it, you could see it, there, outlined against the dark fabric of his slacks. 

He was hard. 

A wave of suffocating, shameful arousal washed over you, and you forced yourself to look away, to ignore it.

You could only begin to imagine how he was feeling. The way you were feeling was nothing compared to him, his condition undoubtedly much more intense than your own physical reaction in response to his arousal, and you could feel his eyes on you as you scrambled to find a solution. 

“What am I going to do then?” He asked, “it’s getting… I’m sorry, It’s getting rather unbearable. I tried everything. It’s impossible to ignore, and I know I can’t use my hands.”

You spared him a glance. “Why?”

“Because,” he said, “I was already trying that. It wasn’t enough.”

Oh. The unbuckled belt. His disheveled state when you’d walked in. He’d already been dealing with the effects of the first dose, or at least attempting to. The call of your name, as you were entering the office. The silence before he summoned you up to the second floor.

Fuck. He’d been thinking of you. 

That had to be one of the hottest things you’d ever heard, professionalism be damned. Arousal rolled over you like a breaking wave, making you bite into your lower lip.

You knew what needed to happen. You knew the effects of this particular drug would take, and you knew that the only way to relieve his symptoms was either to very painfully wait it out or to… find relief. In this case, that entailed another person. 

“You need to have sexual intercourse,” you said, “or you can wait it out.”

Wriothesley cleared his throat. “Wait it out,” he said, “right, I can do that. How long will that take?”

You twisted your hands together. “It… depends. You were likely given a pretty strong dose, even for someone your size. By my estimate, it would probably take several hours for it to work its way out of your system.”

He chuckled dryly, humorlessly. “Great.”

You cleared your throat. “Do you have someone I could… call? A girlfriend?”

He snorted, as if amused by the idea. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

That would make sense, you supposed, if he was calling out your name, and not the name of another woman. 

“We both know what Siegwinne is doing,” Wriothesley said, “not just with this, but for the past few months. I can’t pretend I’m not fond of you, and neither of us can pretend there isn’t something between us.”

It was like the ground dropped out from under you at the sheer brazenness of his admission. You stared at him, thunderstruck. 

“You… what?” 

A cavalcade of thoughts crashed together as you rapidly attempted to process what he meant by that, but he barely gave you any time before he started speaking again.

“Look,” he said, “if you don’t feel the same, I can accept that. I’ll wait it out, and we can pretend this never even happened. But if you do, are you even… slightly interested in um… helping me? Because honestly, I feel like I’m about to explode.”

Heat coiled low in your stomach, threatening to overtake you as the lovely rasp of his voice made any of your logical thoughts close to meaningless. This was so vastly unprofessional. He was your boss, and you were his doctor. But something dangerously close to want was settling neatly over that space you usually reserved, that you looked to for reassurance about your professional standing with the Duke, to tell you that your feelings for him, ever growing, were improper. 

And when you turned, watching his face, the way his hungry gaze traced your body through your uniform, something in you snapped, and you threw caution to the wind.

Head lowered, face flushed, you swallowed your rationality and any remaining hesitance you had left. 

“I suppose,” you said, “I could use my hands.”

Wriothesley’s body jolted in anticipation, and his eyes betrayed his hesitance, darkened to steel blue with lust as he nodded once, then once more.

“Hands,” he repeated, “yes, hands are good. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”

You found it touching that he was at least trying to take your comfort into account, even when he was drowning in desire, and you took a slow step forward as he shifted, pulling his chair out enough to allow you room to situate yourself on the floor in front of him. As you took another step, he took his coat from the back of his chair and laid it at his feet, another gesture you appreciated. 

Once you reached him, you knelt down between his thighs, and he watched you with burning eyes, flinching when your palms smoothed over his clothed thighs, jaw tightening. Medical curiosity echoed briefly in the back of your mind, taking note of just how sensitive the drug had made him to the simplest of touches, how he shivered as your nails grazed against the insides of his strong thighs. 

Fuck, he was radiating heat. So much so that it was beginning to affect you, and you shifted back on your knees to remove the overcoat layer of your uniform, leaving you in the blouse and underskirt beneath it. Wriothesley’s eyes followed your motions with rapt attention, and when you moved forward again, settling, you felt him jolt when your palm met his leg once again.

This close up, you could see it, just how much he was straining against his trousers, his erection pressed against his zipper, and hesitantly, you cupped it in your hand.

The Duke gasped at your touch, fingers twitching where he’d curled them around the armrests of his chair, then tightening in a white-knuckled grip as you ever-so-gently squeezed. He twitched against your palm, and you removed his belt entirely, dropping it to the floor with a clatter before you were unfastening his button and zipper.

You palmed him through the fabric of his underwear, and you could already feel how big he was just from that. A sort of eagerness threaded its way into the burn of your arousal as you pushed away any remaining layers, pulling him free.

Fuck. He was so thick, and when you slowly wrapped your hand around him, your fingers just barely met. He was long, too, though you supposed it made sense for a man of his size. He was flushed red, painfully hard, and when you squeezed, you felt him twitch once more, his body tightening like a coiled spring. His hands tightened their grip on the armrests, flexing, and you felt his hips shift forward, unconsciously. 

The first stroke made his head roll back, the sound he let out one of relief, just from that simple touch alone. It made you squirm in place, the sound of his voice and the stricken hitch of his breath causing the desperation of his arousal to bleed into your own building need. Precum was beaded at his tip, and you almost wanted to lean forward to lap it up, especially as more leaked out in response to the way you were stroking him in slow, even movements. 

Heavy breath expelled through clenched teeth, followed by a low, low groan as your thumb found his tip, rubbing in slow circles, and it was then that you leaned forward, giving into temptation as your tongue pressed to the underside of the head of his cock in a slow lick.

“Oh,” he gasped, “oh, you don’t have to– oh, fuck.”

He cut himself off as you lapped at his slit, groaning through his teeth. He was already completely lost to pleasure as you pumped the base of him, and when you took him into your mouth, sucking on the tip, you heard him curse, a sound drawn out with a low, decadent groan. 

“You said your hands– oh!”

Arousal was settling low and smoldering hot in the pit of your stomach, pooling between your thighs, and you whined as he whispered your name. You released him from your mouth, hands moving to rest on his thighs, and you dragged your tongue up and along the underside of his dick, gathering up any precum that had dribbled down. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his slacks, lips grazing the side of his shaft, and he repeated your name, louder, voice twisted with an urgency that made your blood sing.

It was embarrassing, just how quick you’d gotten like this, punch drunk on the reactions he gave you, the way his body reacted to your touch. It filled you with an addicting sort of power, one that threatened to overtake you if you weren’t careful. But right then, all you wanted was to add fuel to the ever growing fire. And, with the way he was breathing, rough and ragged and broken, you doubted he’d be opposed to that. 

Your tongue flicked out, against the fold of skin just below his tip, and he tensed, crying out helplessly. When you finally took him in your mouth, fully, his head fell back against his chair, a feral groan tearing itself from his throat as your tongue pressed firm against him. Your hand moved from his leg to encircle the base of him again, squeezing and stroking in tandem with the slow bob of your head, and making the Duke gasp at the sensations. 

When you sucked, just a little, Wriothesley babbled a string of curses, hips twitching up towards your mouth, and when you ducked down, bobbing your head, one of his hands flew from the armrest to the back of your head. You thought he’d push, or maybe take control, but all he did was lace his fingers into your hair, unmoving. His body shuddered under the roll of your tongue, under the press of your free hand to his stomach, creeping under the layers of clothing covering him, his skin fever hot against your own.

You took him deeper, and he twitched, hips jumping as you hollowed out your cheeks, drawing back before surging forward once again. You relaxed your jaw further as his hips bucked, and he muttered an apology, breathless and feverish. His head pitched back as you rubbed your thumb against his base, and he twitched again, sharply. When you looked up at him, through your lashes, he was gazing down at you with hooded, burning eyes. There was desperation in his cool blue hues, a wordless plea for anything, everything you could give him.

And with everything you had, you delivered. 

You dropped your jaw, swallowing as much of him as you can, drinking in the sound of his breath shuddering, tapering off into a low moan. You sped up, gradually, and the sounds he made were so madly erotic that you found yourself aching to reach between your thighs and take care of your own growing need, but you could hardly focus on anything apart from taking him as deep as possible without choking. The sheer girth of him was enough to make your jaw sore, and when you moved forward again, he hit the back of your throat, making tears catch in your lashes. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, drawing the word out with the sound, long and low and you kneened around him, making him curse and buck. 

The hand not tangled in your hair raised to his face, balling tight, and he bit down on his fist, stifling his uncontrolled cries of ecstasy, eyes squeezing shut, brows pinching in concentration. He was trembling beneath your touches, twitching against your tongue, and when you moved back to suck on the tip, slow and indolent, the noise that left his mouth was nothing short of pornographic. 

“Yeah,” he seethed, voice breathy, needy, “fuck, yeah, don’t stop.”

Not a chance in hell you were doing that. You clamped your thighs together, squeezing around nothing, and you knew you were soaked, evident in the way your panties were sticking to your skin, your thighs tacky with sweat and the soak of your own arousal. Your hand curled into a fist where it rested on his stomach, then flattening once more and flexing, searching for anything to anchor yourself. When you took him into your mouth once more, fully, he bucked his hips, groaning with no regard for volume. He was close, teetering on that edge, evident from the way his grip on your hair grew tighter, the way you could feel the muscles in his stomach tensing, and when you took him deep and sucked, he moaned, long and low, the sound almost forced from his fraying lungs. The sensitivity had to be maddening, you decided, and you’d use that to your full advantage. 

Slowly, you pulled back, lapping at the leaking tip, hand working tirelessly at the base of him, and you barely had any warning before he tipped over the edge, back arching, breath all but leaving him. You shifted back in surprise, reflexively, and cum painted itself across your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the seam of your lips. You closed your eyes in an attempt to keep anything from getting into them before you were hurrying to take him in your mouth, sealing your lips around him. His hand was fisting in your hair, and the sound he made, a low, breathless groan, was one of sheer, debauched relief. 

You sucked, and he let out an obscene moan as you swallowed down his cum, hips jerking, the hand previously fisted between his teeth flattening against the desk, palm slamming down, just once, and you heard the rasp of wood under fingernails as he moved to grip the edge. 

You slowed, working him through the intensity of his orgasm, as he twitched and throbbed under your touch, the sheer volume of cum surprising you. It leaked from your mouth, down your chin, and you did your best to swallow as much of it as you could. He slumped, boneless, against his chair, and when you moved to clean him with your tongue, you got to listen to the delightful sound of him gasping from oversensitivity.

“Fuck,” you heard him say, dazed and utterly breathless, “fuck.”

Slowly, you drew back, and his eyes followed you, breath hitching and gaze darkening as he took in your appearance. The sight of you, knelt before him, covered in his cum, was enough to make him groan aloud, cheeks flaring pink.

“Archons,” he said, “that has to be the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

You let out a short, breathless chuckle.

“Do you have a rag or something?”

He nodded, once, and you stood on shaking legs before leaning sideways against the desk, and he pulled you closer, gently wiping your face clean with a tissue before depositing it in the trash situated under his desk. 

“How do you feel?” You asked, and he huffed what may have been a laugh, nearly disbelieving.

“That was… Incredible. But I’m still, um…”

You crooked an eyebrow, watching him, expectantly.

He looked almost guilty. “I’m still hard.”

Oh. Oh. 

You weren’t completely surprised. You didn’t know if a blowjob alone would be enough to work the drug from his system, and clearly, it wasn’t. Not that you minded. Your own arousal was a steady pulse below your skin, working like a second heartbeat. Desire coursed through you, and you pressed your thighs together once more. You wanted it. You already knew that. You wanted him. 

“Alright,” you said, and what was left of any phantom of resolve, or the shreds of your until recently professional relationship with him all but vaporized, “sit back.”

“You don’t have to,” he started, the protest as fragile as glass, but you cut him off.

“I want to. I’ve… wanted this– you– for a while. So please, Your Grace– Wriothesley. I want it all. If you’ll have me.”

That was all it took. With a low, shuddering breath, a signal of his rapidly fraying restraint, he was yanking you forward and into his lap, his fingers working the buttons of your blouse open, hurriedly shucking it down your shoulders once undone. He made quick work of the ties fastening your skirt to your body, and you briefly shuffled off of him to drop it to the floor, along with your stockings, before resituating yourself on his lap. 

“If I’ll have you?” He rumbled, the low, rough ombre of his voice sending prongs of lightning down your spine, and he yanked you closer, mouth dragging along the curve of your jaw.

“How could I possibly refuse?”

And then, for the first time, he was kissing you. 

His lips were burning hot against yours, and your fingers found his hair, threading into messy locks, nails dragging against his scalp. He huffed a sigh into your lips as he nudged his tongue between them, tilting his head to slot his mouth more firmly against yours, and when his tongue dragged against yours, you moaned, low and soft, into his mouth. He kissed you slow and deep, almost a juxtaposition to the way he was feverishly running his hands, large and calloused, down your body, and when his fingers grazed over the patch of nerves just where your lowest rib met the curve of your waist, you shuddered in his hold. 

You could taste the tea he’d been drinking on his tongue, cloyingly sweet, and it was almost too much when mixed with the heady, spiced smell of his cologne. Everything about him was overwhelming you in the best way possible, rendering you pliable and soft in his hands. Fuck, Wriothesley needed his own warning label. It was almost funny, really, just how riled up you were when he was the one who had been drugged with an aphrodisiac. 

His teeth caught your lower lip as he drew back, tugging, before he was diving back in, hands planted firmly on your hips, and you let out a stuttering gasp as he pulled you forward, his bare cock pressing against your stomach. 

The way he shuddered at the contact was enough to make your head spin with arousal, and when you shifted forward once more, just to see what he’d do, the grip on your hips grew to nearly bruising. 

“You have no idea,” he husked, low and rough, the very threads of his sanity slipping from between his fingers, “how hard you’re making it to hold back.”

His words shot straight between your thighs, and you rolled your hips again, loving the way he stiffened. You felt his palm, dragging slowly up your body, then finally moving to cup your breast through the fabric of your bra, squeezing. You arched your chest into his touch, his name whisper soft on your lips. 

He unfastened your bra after some fumbling, his coordination clearly beginning to become impacted by the drug. Once the garment was discarded, he barely gave you time to breathe, and you gasped when his head dipped down, mouth dragging across the valley of your breasts, skating along the side of one before his lips found one of your nipples, drawing it into the heat of his mouth.

He groaned at the taste of you, indulgent, as he laved his tongue over your flesh, hands sliding up to grip your waist, holding you in place, allowing him to explore the newly exposed skin with his mouth as much as he pleased. He was strong, his grip like iron, but it didn’t prevent you from slowly rocking your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his bare cock, and the way he groaned into your skin was a sound of delirious pleasure. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, almost disbelieving, “fuck, I’m a lucky man.”

His tender words made your heartbeat quicken, and you squeezed him closer, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt, and you quickly unfastened them, pushing the cloth away to smooth your palms over his bare skin. Gently, you pushed him back against the chair you were both situated in to look at him, and the sight before you was almost too much.

You already knew he was muscular, that much was obvious by just looking at him. But beneath his clothing, among thickly corded muscle was a patchwork of scarred flesh. You’d known about some scars; three of them crept up over the collar of his shirt, partially hidden by the straps he wore around his throat. There was also a collection of them on his arms, and of course, the one under his right eye. The ones that were hidden wove their way across his chest like a roadmap, some of them faint, and others more prominent, pale threads across his already pale skin. You laid your palm against him, tracing the one closest, and he shuddered, leaning into your touch, eyes fluttering closed. Your fingers skimmed down his chest, to his trim waist, and when your thumb caught in the deep v at his waist, he let out a soft grunt. 

One of his hands moved from your waist to your hip, squeezing the plush flesh, then migrated to the apex of your thighs, and when his middle finger rubbed you through the sodden fabric of your panties, a high, breathy whine tore itself from your throat. He pressed harder, and your back arched, eyes falling half-lidded when he circled your clit through the fabric.

Then, without warning, he was pushing the cloth aside, and the feel of his calloused finger dragging across your entrance was enough to make you jerk in his hold.

He dipped his head, forehead making contact with your shoulder, and it took you a moment to realize he was watching himself, observing the sight of his hand between your legs. When your hips twitched, he used his opposite hand to hold you steady, effectively forcing you to stay in place as he did what he pleased with your body. 

“Please,” you whispered, and that was all it took for him to tire of his teasing, sinking his finger inside you with a slow, indulgent movement.

You gasped, the sound bleeding into a moan when his finger curled inside of you, and he pushed you down, forcing you to take him to the knuckle. You whispered his name as he curled his finger again, and when he added a second finger, you squeezed your eyes shut. He groaned at the sound it made when he thrust his fingers into you, the lewd, embarrassing schlick of you around him, and you had to take a moment for your jumbled thoughts to catch up with you. His fingers were so much thicker than your own, not to mention longer, and he was hitting spots you didn’t even know existed. He thrust again, and you cried out, hips twitching, causing him to tighten his grip. 

The curl of his fingers hit a spot inside of you that made you see stars, and when he felt the way it made you tighten around him, he began to abuse it with everything he had. 

“Oh, Gods,” he groaned, “you’re so wet.”

You could do no more than gasp as his palm ground against your clit, and he held you there, forcing you to take it as he pressed in slow, maddening twists of his wrist before replacing his palm with his thumb.

It was arousing how easily he could manhandle you, and you had absolutely no desire to fight against him as he pumped his fingers in and out of you. You were getting close, embarrassingly quickly, and you could do nothing to stop yourself from hurtling towards that end, walls throbbing and contracting around his fingers.

One of your hands shot between you, encircling his thick wrist, and you weren’t sure what the purpose of that was, either to push him deeper or simply to find purchase, but you did know that your desperation made his dick twitch where it was pressed between you, forcing him to stifle a groan.

You convulsed in his hold, hips jerking in his iron grip, his name on your lips, and with a final press of his thumb against your clit, you came hard around his fingers, biting down into his shoulder, and he worked you through it with slow thrusts that made stars and celestial bodies dance across your closed eyelids. You called his name, urgent and drawn out, yet high and needy, and he replied with a groan of his own, his free hand flying from where he was holding you in place to wrap around his own cock, palming it, thumbing the head, forcing a moan from between his teeth.

You slumped heavily against him as you fell from your high, and when he withdrew his fingers, you let out a shuddering breath, the sensitivity sending your thoughts into nonsense. Your head was spinning, thoughts in a daze, and all you could feel was him as he panted for breath. 

Seconds of silence, only interrupted by heavy breathing, passed before you rose on unsteady legs to discard your panties before you were settling over him once more, and he watched with hazy eyes as you shifted forward, pressing your bare cunt against the underside of his shaft in a slow grind. His mouth fell open in a silent cry, brows pinching upwards, the sensitivity clearly unbearable. Suffocating, maddening lust worked its way through your bloodstream like a toxin, and you knew he needed more, from the way his hips rutted up in halfway thrusts as you rubbed against him.

“Fuck,” he choked, head falling back as the tip of his cock caught against you, “I wanna–”

You rocked forward, and his entire body jolted, tearing a groan from deep in his chest.

“What do you want?” You asked, breathless, and he lifted his head to look at you, the fog of desire in his eyes downright sinful.

He yanked you close, trapping his cock between your bodies, and into a frenzied kiss, his restraint all but gone as he unabashedly moaned at the feel of your skin. 

“I want,” he husked, mouth pressing open kisses against your jaw, and he stopped, breath hot against your ear, “to be inside you.”

Your breath left you in a rush, and you drew him into a deep kiss, one he returned with vigor, hands smoothing down your body to grab at your hips, pressing you forward and against him once more, and when you pulled back, his eyes were wild with desperation and maddening lust. 

“I don’t have protection,” he said, and you shook your head, dismissing him.

“I’m on birth control,” you said. Siegwinne made the tonic you took, something she supplied even to female inmates to help with lightening periods. But right now, it would be used for its intended purpose. Wriothesley nodded as he took this information in, seemingly relaxing a little.

“Please,” he mumbled, and you blinked, surprised to hear him beg for anything, but you were hardly going to deny him, “I’m going insane. I need you.”

You took a shuddering breath as you shifted up, using one hand to brace yourself as you took his cock in your hand, pressing him against you. You both cried out in unison at the feeling, even the slightest whisper of much needed friction enough to make you feel lightheaded, and you felt his hands grasp your hips, urging you downwards.

You sank down, slowly, and even the tip of him was a stretch, a dull ache blossoming as you pressed closer. Both hands landed on his shoulders, breath heavy, and he groaned lowly at the sensation.

“Slow,” he said, fighting for control, “c’mon, you can take me. Relax, deep breaths.”

You nodded, once, as you did as he instructed. Your knees shuffled as you pressed yourself down, met with more resistance, and forcing you to stop, gasping for air. He was only halfway in and you already felt full, stretched to accommodate him. It was unfamiliar and new, and you weren’t used to this, but his grip was tightening, and with a deep breath, you thrust down, taking the rest of him in one quick motion. 

The sting of the stretch danced across your frayed nerves like a livewire, and you grit your teeth, head slumping forward as Wriothesley let out a long, low groan, both of his hands rushing to your hips, squeezing, keeping you in place. 

A string of curses left his lips as his head fell back, and you could feel him throb inside of you, so deep you could hardly believe it, stuffed full to the brim. 

“Just– oh, or you could just take it all. Fuck,” he quieted, breathing heavily, before speaking again, “are you– did that hurt you? Are you okay?”

The pain wasn’t horrible, and you hesitated to even call it pain. It was just an ache, dull and unpleasant, but you’d been wet enough that taking him hadn’t caused you any actual damage. You sat still as you adjusted, the aching burn of the stretch rapidly fading into something maddening, replaced by a desperate need. 

“I’m fine,” you said, voice strained, “I’m okay.”

He nodded, once, before drawing you close, linking your mouth to his in a kiss far more gentle than you’d expected. You felt him throb, and when you squeezed, you got the pleasure of hearing him groan your name.

“You’re so tight. Please, please– yeah–”

His head fell back as you rocked your hips, lifting yourself up, only to sink back down, and when you repeated the action, he groaned helplessly, a string of almost nonsensical praises spilling past his lips, only serving to make you want to wreck him even further. 

Sheer, uncontained relief was tangled inextricably with every sound he made, his hands squeezing your hips as you took him again, and again, and again, and oh fuck, you felt like you were being split open, impaling yourself repeatedly on his fat cock. The burn from before turned into pure ecstasy, the stretch of him inside of you intoxicating, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck as you moaned out his name. He wasn’t even bothering to stay quiet, not that it mattered, nobody could hear from outside the heavy office doors, which was an advantage right then. 

You keened as his hips rose to meet you, the base of his dick rubbing against your clit. You sank down, taking him fully, ejecting any rational or sensical thought from your head, grinding in deep, easy circles, and you could feel blunt nails digging into your hips as he held you in place, totally drunk on pleasure. 

His grip eased as you slid back up before taking him again, and he was kissing you frantically, one of his hands flattening against your breast, rolling the nipple under the rough pad of his thumb, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Faster,” he hissed, pulling back to meet your eyes, “faster, ride me faster.”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, using them as leverage to move yourself faster, arching your back as the new speed made you see stars, and you whined, burning pleasure shooting through you at the grind of his cock against your clit.

“Good girl,” he groaned, dizzy with pleasure, “yeah, just like that.”

You could feel yourself getting close again, and you groaned his name as you swiveled your hips. Your thighs were beginning to burn with the exertion, even with just the short time you’d been moving at this pace, and when he felt you shudder, his hands found your waist, helping you along.

“That’s it, gorgeous,” Wriothesley panted, “that’s it, fuck me just like that.”

He was moving you with his own hands, easily, and you tried your best to move along with him, swiveling your hips whenever he bottomed out, and his head fell back in rapture, gasping for air. 

Your orgasm was approaching fast, and you were helpless to its pull as you sped up, chasing after it frantically, the sound that filtered through your clenched teeth one of desperation. You felt like you were losing yourself, and when you sank your teeth into the soft flesh of his throat, an unrestrained groan fell past his lips, his hips bucking up with enough force to make you see stars. When his thumb pressed against your clit, you tipped over the edge hard, stilling as you clung to him, sobbing his name into the curve of his shoulder.

You tightened to a vice grip around him, throbbing as your climax crashed over you, and you heard him growl at the sensation, hips bucking, still working his cock up into your messy cunt. Before you could even start to come down from your high, you were moving, and the frigid steel of the floor met your back, rapidly heating from contact with your skin. One of his hands gripped at your leg, tucking beneath your knee and holding it up, and then he was driving forwards, hips slapping against yours as he filled you once more.

He paused, shaken by the intensity of the sensation, before his head pitched forward, breath heavy, and he was thrusting again with a renewed vigor, nails digging into your flesh. 

His name was the only thing on your tongue as he fucked you, so good it made you feel like your head was emptying itself out. His mouth found yours as he leaned forward, supporting his weight on his forearm, laid beside your head, giving him more freedom to do what he pleased with his hips. The base of his dick was rubbing against your clit once again, and you whined, squirming beneath him, but he wasn’t letting up.

“Wriothesley,” you gasped, head fuzzy, completely cock drunk as he broke the kiss to mouth at your neck, “deeper.”

He groaned, low and indulgent, and when his hips snapped forward, filling you completely, your back arched against his chest.

“Deeper?” he repeated, the baritone timbre of his voice lowered to an uneven bass, “you want it deeper? That what you want, gorgeous?”

“Please,” you sobbed, “please, give it to me.”

A low, rough chuckle was the only warning you got before he was thrusting forward, hips flush against yours, and he repeated the action, again, and again, and again, making you bite your lip to keep from wailing at the intensity of it all.

“Oh, fuck,” you heard him gasp, stricken, indulgent, “fuck, yeah, that’s it.”

It felt so good you could hardly think, and when you babbled his name, lust drunk and fucked dumb, he pressed soft kisses along the column of your throat, almost like a reward, a thank you for letting him do this to you. 

His pace was growing sloppy, but he showed no signs of letting up, and in the back of your mind, you figured was probably just going to keep on going, even if he came. It was rapidly beginning to become far too much for you, and you moaned, high and breathy, when he rammed himself all the way in, grinding his hips before pulling out less than a quarter of the way, then thrusting back in. He was so deep, and you writhed under him, fingernails scraping against the floor before you were clinging to him. He was moaning, low and breathless, the way he was moving causing you to helplessly spasm around him, forcing you violently over the edge when the base of him rubbed just right against your aching clit. 

You could feel tears, beading at your lashline as the sensitivity became maddening, but he wasn’t letting up, even as you arched and bucked and wailed beneath him, the intensity of your climax rendering you incoherent. He knew exactly what he was doing, just how to push every button he needed to, and you were halfway between deliriously begging for more or sobbing at the sensitivity. 

A string of curses left his lips as he came, gushing hot and thick inside of you, but he wasn’t even pausing, even as his groans tapered into breathy moans from the way he was overstimulating himself. You could feel him, throbbing, pulsing inside of you as he filled you, uncaring of the way his cum  dripped out of you. The sound of it, combined with the slap of skin against skin, was unbelievably lewd, but you hardly had the wherewithal to even think, let alone be any kind of embarrassed. If anything, it only drove you higher. 

“Fuck,” Wrothesley cursed, low and broken, “I need it again, please, again– fuck!”

He shifted back, grabbing at your legs and pressing them down beside you, and you thanked the Archons you were flexible as he continued, leaning forward once he had you in the position he liked and taking your body with abandon. He was hardly bothering to hold back his strength as he hammered into you, and your head fell back against the floor with a soft thud, eyes rolling back. 

You’d never felt like this before in your life. Your legs were growing sore, and your back was going to be stiff from the way he was fucking you into the floor, but you didn’t care, not as you got to listen to the way he was saying your name like a prayer, how he was caressing and kissing your body like it was sacred. Exhaustion was a heavy weight against the blurred edges of your mind, and all you could do was lay there and take it as he chased after what he so desperately needed.

It didn’t take long for him to grow close again, and he whispered your name as his end quickly approached. You yanked him into a kiss, which he returned with a groan of ecstasy, and then, with a final, deep, shuddering thrust, he was cumming. The force of it made his entire body tremble, and the sound he made was one of satiated, relieved bliss as he emptied himself out inside of you, the heat of him almost suffocating, burning you from the inside out.

His hips jerked with unconscious movements and spasms as he drifted down from the staggering height of his climax, his breath heavy, and he slumped, weakened, his face pressing into the crook of your neck. His mouth pressed lazy kisses against your skin, and you lifted a hand to run it through his hair as he finally, finally began to grow soft inside of you.

The two of you lay there, still joined, for what felt like hours, bathing in each other’s warmth and the afterglow of it all. His breath fanned across your skin, feather soft as he lifted his head to join your lips together, before he slowly pulled out, rolling off of you, dazed. 

“Are you hurt?” He asked, voice hoarse, and you arched your back, flexing your body. You winced at the soreness. You were undoubtedly going to have bruises from how hard he had been gripping you. 

“I’m fine,” you said, “are you–”

He snorted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “that uh… that did the trick.”

You laughed, a little breathlessly. You didn’t know how you’d be able to stand after that, genuinely. Your legs felt like jelly, and a deep, all consuming exhaustion was settling over your senses.

“You think it’s gone?” You asked, “the drug, I mean.”

He looked at you sidelong. “I don’t feel uncontrollably horny anymore, so I’d say so.”

Wriothesley sat up, flexing his shoulders. He tucked himself back into his pants, and then he was gathering you into his arms, rising to his feet.

“What are you doing?” You asked, and he raised an eyebrow at you.

“Taking you to the bath,” he said, “I have a bathtub, in my living quarters.”

You relaxed, settling into his arms. “Oh.”

His living quarters were attached to the office, through a door you’d somehow never noticed before. You were far too tired to take in any of the details of it, instead opting to close your eyes and rest your head on the nearest comfortable spot on Wriothesley’s chest, which he didn’t seem to mind at all. 

He set you in the tub, and after the water was run, you were surprised to see him climbing in along with you. It wasn’t unwelcome, and seeing him completely bare was hardly a bad thing, and you were pleasantly happy when he began to gently wash you, and once he was finished, he tugged you back, settling you against his chest.

The bathroom was silent, save for the musical sound of running water, and you allowed yourself to close your eyes, settling into the comfortable atmosphere. 

“I meant what I said, you know,” Wriothesley said, and you opened your eyes to look up at him.

“What?” You asked.

“About being fond of you,” he said, “you’re… an amazing woman. I want–”

You leaned up, kissing him, and effectively giving him an answer to his thoughts. He sighed into the kiss, content, one large hand rising to cup your face, thumb smoothing over your cheekbone.

“I guess Siegwinne succeeded,” you said, and Wriothesley smiled, amused.

“I guess she did.”

You stayed in the bath much longer than you expected, until the water became cold, and once that happened, Wriothesley whisked you off to the bed, tucking you under the covers after supplying you with one of his shirts to wear. You smiled when he joined you, now dressed in a pair of sweats, chest left bare, and curled up beside you, tucking you close to his chest. 

Sleep came quickly after the lights were switched off, the exhaustion from before spreading over you like wildfire. 

And, when he thought you were asleep, you felt him, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his body relaxing against yours.

BONUS:

You were agonizingly sore. Your stiff muscles had stiff muscles, and while Wriothesley was sheepish, and apologetic, and promised he’d treat you to dinner to make it up (which you would be taking him up on), it made walking back to the infirmary the next morning a little difficult. 

What was even worse was the look on Siegwinne’s face when you entered, ruby red eyes knowing as she watched you approach.

“How’s the duke?” She asked, and you handed her the accursed thermos without saying anything.

“Fine,” you said, slumping down into your chair with a sigh. 

She smiled. “Good. Are you seeing him again tonight?”

You turned, brows furrowed. “How did you know about that?”

She shrugged, unbothered. “Someone saw you leaving his office this morning. I suppose what I put in the tea worked a little too well.”

You stared at her. “Siegwinne, you put an aphrodisiac in his tea.”

She paused, concerned. “No I didn’t. I put a supplement to further enhance his desire for you. If we’re being frank, it’s closer to a love potion. Just to get rid of any inhibitions. It’s medicine. But it isn’t meant to cause anything like–”

You rolled back your sore shoulders. “Yeah, well, it did.”

Her face went pale, but she briefly covered it up. “I… suppose I miscalculated.”

You laughed, then. Really laughed. It startled Siegwinne, who stared at you with growing concern.

“It’s fine,” you said, “whatever, Siegwinne. At least you don’t have to keep going with trying to set us up. Focus your energy on making ‘love potions’ that aren’t aphrodisiacs in humans, okay?”

She flushed, quiet, then nodded, once, her eyes taking on a determined look. You were beginning to regret saying anything. 

With a smile, and a good natured nod, she put her hands on her hips, ever the dutiful nurse.

“I’ll get right on that.”

Fin.

[squirmhoney]

Bully! Ex-bestfriend Rafe Cameron (Drabble)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warning: Smut. Dark. Non-Con. Dub-con. Slight Violence Fingering. Pet names. Possessive! Rafe 18+ MDNI

A/N: I might post another part to this but here is just a small drabble. Support me through my Ko-Fi linked here.

Rafe was your bully. Your tormentor.

But first he had been your best friend.  

Years before you would have been surprised to have yourself in this situation. Draped over Rafe Cameron’s lap, with your skirt hiked up and panties wrapped around your ankles. 

But this was just how things were now. 

“Rafe,” you let out in a strangled whimper, fighting to keep your emotions at bay. “What are you-“ 

You felt your words catch in your throat as he slapped his hand against your bare ass cheek, squealing at the feel of his cold rings bruising your skin. 

This made him chuckle and he did it again, laughing at the sound you made at the impact. 

“Don’t be a baby,” he mocked, smoothing his hand across the sensitive skin. “See, isn't that nice?” 

You were trembling on his lap, still struggling with how you found yourself in this position. But you guess it was easy for Rafe, everyone was so willing to turn a blind eye as he yanked you into an empty room at the party. 

“I said-“ He grabbed a handful of your hair, twisting your head backwards so you could look at him. His grip was tight, causing a stinging pain in your skull and you thought if he pulled any tighter he might actually snap your neck. “-isn’t that nice?” 

You nodded, agreeing with him. 

“Words, Princess.” 

“Yes, that feels nice, Rafe.” 

He was satisfied then, letting go of your hair and reaching back down between your thighs. 

You knew it was wrong but when he touched your folds, you were wet. It had been impossible not to have been, Rafe had cornered you an hour before practically rubbing his thigh against you for anyone to see. 

“Already soaked for me,” he sighed, spreading your wetness around your pussy. “Just how you should always be.” 

It was then he slipped a finger inside your spongy walls, curling it inside of you until you let out a lewd whimper. You bit down on your lip to cover up any other noises, embarrassed by the way he had you feeling.

“Nuh uh, princess,” he told you, using his free hand to spank you again. This time it was harsher, a warning. “I want to hear those pretty noises you make.” 

“I’m sorry,” you turned to look back at him, with watery eyes. 

“That’s okay. Just do as I say and everything will be fine,” he reassured you. 

But as Rafe thrusted another finger inside you, making you gasp, you didn’t feel reassured. You felt hopeless, succumbing to him even after months of trying to steer clear from him. 

However, you had known Rafe since diapers and when he wanted something, he got it. 

And right now that thing was you. 

“You still a virgin?” Rafe wondered, slipping a third finger inside you. 

Your walls clenched around his fingers and you were unsure if it was because of the comment or the extra finger he had managed to squeeze inside your sopping pussy. 

“With how tight you are, there’s no way you’re not,” he chuckled. “Of course, I also made sure no one else would set foot in a mile radius of you.” 

“What?” 

You wanted to think about what he just said, but with each push of his fingers you felt your head spinning. And there was only one thing you could really focus on. 

“I’m going to- Rafe.” 

“It’s okay, baby,” Rafe hushed you, feeling his cock twitch in his pants at the way your fingers gripped his walls. 

“Rafe,” you let out in the lewdest moan, feeling yourself gushing around him. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, rolling you over to where you could properly see him. 

He was grinning a wide toothy grin at you, satisfied with your fucked out expression. 

“What did you mean?” You asked him between harsh breaths. “When you said about no man stepping within a mile radius of me?” 

He was sucking at his fingers, drinking all your juices left there. 

“Rafe?”

Your glassy eyes stared back up at him, starting to realise you were more trapped than ever. But maybe you always had been, you had just been too naive to realise. 

He chuckled again, tapping his fingers against your head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“You know I don’t let people touch my property,” Rafe cupped your cheek, tapping it light enough for it not to sting but hard enough to know how serious he was being. “And you’ve always been mine, Y/N. From that moment you made that pinky promise with me when we were kids.”

[bobattea]

i would like to request a scenario for the bsd boys' (dazai, chuuya, atsushi and aku) reactions to their fem s/o having an intense orgasm. Like moaning loudly, squirming, shutting her eyes and throwing her head back (bonus points if they kiss her neck when she does)

Pairings: Akutagawa, Atsushi, Chuuya, Dazai and Fyodor (separate) x Fem!Reader Warnings: predator/prey, language, god complex, NSFW, praise, degradation, oral (F receiving), Edging, kinda rough? Word Count: 3575 A/N: I added Fyodor to this list also. I couldn't help myself :) I'm so sorry it took so long to write this it took me 3 days to write longer than I had liked but it sure was fun to write. I hope I did your request justice!

Akutagawa -

You took off in a sprint. Depending on how this night goes, you may or may not follow Akutagawa into a secluded area again. You avoid looking behind you, which would only slow you down.

“I’ll give you a head start, but you better run fast.” You recall the warning in his words and in the firm grip that he had on your arm. “Because once I've caught you, I’m going to fuck you.” His words replayed over and over in your head as you sprinted down the path, triggering a familiar feeling between your legs that was difficult to ignore. It was a quiet night; barely anyone else was around. Typical.

The more you ran, the more out of breath you became. The excitement and thrill were the only things keeping you going. He was going to catch up for sure, and if you had as much of a single break, you’d be a sitting duck, but you don't hear anything besides yourself panting with no clue as to where you are running or what Akutagawa has in store. As if on cue, Rashōmon had gotten ahold of your leg, dragging you back a short distance as Akutagawa walked at a steady pace in the direction you ran in. His gaze is no different from that of a predator stalking its prey, sending shivers down your spine the closer he gets to you.

“Was that the best you could do? I even gave you a head start.” His expression didn’t change as he pressed your face first against the wall and had his Rashōmon hold you in place. Akutagawa didn’t push you too hard; the last thing he wanted was to hurt your pretty face, but he did so with just enough impact to send a shock of excitement through your body. The rest was a haze until you felt the cold breeze on your bare skin and shreds of your clothes hit the floor. “I told you what would happen if I caught you.” Akutagawa bit your ear gently, then kissed your neck before burying his cock inside you. His nails dug into yours as he thrust into you at an unforgiving pace, leaving you no time to adjust to him.

“Fuck! Ryuu!” You squeeze your eyes shut, and your hands are balling into fists against the wall. Akutagawa brings his head closer to your neck and bites down again with a low groan. He quickens the pace, and his thrusts become harder. “T-too much!” He doesn't listen to your words; you just egg him on.

“So fucking tight. Gonna ruin you.” He groans into your ear as he lifts one of your legs up to fuck you even deeper, the tip hitting your cervix repeatedly. The cold air didn't bother you anymore; you were far too hot as you approached your orgasm. You couldn't form words, just babbling noises as you squeezed your eyes shut again and moaned loudly, finally cumming around his cock. Akutagawa came not long after; he held you in that position while you both came down from your high, nothing but heavy breathing as you both caught your breath. “You can have my coat to walk back in.” Akutagawa rests his head on your shoulder, still panting.

“As if I had a choice." You gave a short laugh; there was no way you were walking home naked, and it was highly doubtful he would let you either.

Atsushi -

Atsushi was inexperienced, to say the least. You had to teach him all sorts of things, except tonight. Tonight you have no idea what changed, but Atsushi would not let you say anything, and if you even try to utter any words that weren’t his name and how good he makes you feel, he dives his tongue into your pussy. He holds your hips down to the bed and licks at your wet cunt as if he’d been starved,your legs shaking and threatening to clamp around his head if it weren’t for his arms forcing your legs open.

“Atsushi~” you whimpered while his tongue worked wonders on your clit, sending shocks throughout your body. His arms snake around your thighs, dragging you even closer to him to stop you from rocking your hips on his face.

“Fuckkkk, you taste so good, baby. I can’t get enough.” He almost didn’t even sound like your Atsushi; he was way too confident. Maybe that’s not the word for it right now, but your mind is a mess, only able to focus on how good Astushi’s tongue feels against you. You can’t even get a single word besides his name and a few broken sentences. Your fingers make their way into his hair as you arch your back in pleasure, only for Atsushi to stop briefly. “Hands by your side, baby,” he says, moving his way up your body to come face-to-face with you. You do as he says and put your arms by your sides, then he engulfs you in a kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. “That’s a good girl.” You whimper at his words; this definitely was not your Atsushi, but you weren’t complaining either.

Atsushi kisses his way back down your body, starting with your neck, then down the valley of your breasts and your stomach, then he hovers over your cunt. You can feel his warm breath against your wet folds, but he avoids it all together and goes to kiss and bite at your thighs.

“Atsushi~ god please," you’re stopped halfway through your plea when Atsushi buries his face again between your legs, working his tongue in and out of your pussy. “Fuck!” you moan, arching your back again, and you grip the bed sheets tightly. Who knew he would be so skilled with his tongue? Not even you could teach him this. Somewhere through the bliss, his tongue was replaced with two of his fingers, and he sucked on your clit.You could feel yourself pushing yourself into bed, feeling the wave of pleasure as Atssushi pumps his fingers in and out of you while flicking his tongue over your clit repeatedly.

He loved hearing your breathless moans as he brought you to your release. It's all because of how good he’s making you feel all by himself, not you telling him what to do. Your reactions to him—your legs shaking, your walls clenching around his fingers, and your face flushing all because of him— You buck your hips once more, letting yourself cum all over Atsushi’s fingers with a loud moan of his name, but even after, he still slowly moves his fingers in and out.

"Where did you learn that?” You ask between breaths as you lie on the bed. Atsushi removes his fingers from your cunt and once again makes his way up to look at you face-to-face.

“I’ll tell you later, but we aren't done yet.” He looks down at you softly, his eyes still filled with desire, as you look back up at him, still recovering from your orgasm.

Chuuya -

“You look so pretty like this doll.” Chuuya stood at the foot of the bed, admiring you naked in all your glory with a red rope around your wrists and attached to the headboard with a silky blindfold over your eyes. You can feel the bed dip beside you and Chuuya learning over you, his voice next to your ear. “I wish you could see just how beautiful you look.” He kisses your temple. You hear the rustling of clothes and his belt hitting the floor. You squirm in anticipation of what Chuuya has in store for you.

Chuuya grips your legs and brings his face close to one of your thighs, his breath giving you goosebumps over your skin. He kisses your thighs gently and moves up your body. He kisses your stomach all the way to your breasts. You arch your back, feeling his lips around your nipple and his tongue running over the sensitive bud while his hand pinches and plays with the other one before he gives the same attention to the other one. “So perfect for me.” He lets go and continues his journey up, kissing your collarbones and each side of your neck until he hits your ear again. “Perfect for me to ruin.” He sits up and looks at your face. Your lip caught between your lips, the blindfold was still secure around your eyes, and there was a slight shine on your skin from the sweat due to the foreplay earlier.

You were relying on sound and touch alone to figure out what Chuuya’s next move would be, but he was so quiet, and his damn ability made it nearly impossible until he gripped your hips and positioned himself in front of your entrance. Chuuya teased your cunt with his cock before slowly pushing it inside you. You both moaned, then he started moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He was going to take his time with you.

“God, you were made for me, doll. Fit me so perfectly.” You moaned loudly and squirmed each time his cock hit deeper inside of you, your hands holding tightly onto the rope for something to touch if you couldn't hold onto Chuuya. With your legs wrapping around Chuuya’s waist to try pushing him closer to you, he started to pound into you harder, but keeping at a slow pace, and you got louder each time his name fell from your lips. The ropes were giving off a burning sensation around your wrists. Each harsh thrust Chuuya gave you—a mixture of pain and pleasure—had you hissing and moaning at the same time.

“More Chuuya, please.” You beg; you wish you could see Chuuya, your imagination doing nothing for you, wanting to see Chuuya fall apart while he watches you fall apart too. Chuuya smiled smugly; he could feel you tighten around him. Your hips were lifted off the bed as he started to quicken the pace, slamming into you roughly.

“I feel you, darlin'; you're so close.” Chuuya was meant to take his time with you, but your pussycat was just too good not to lose control. His slow, sensual plan for the night definitely took a turn into more raw and rough passion. “Squeezin’ me so tight, baby.” Chuuya tosses his head back; he was not far behind.

“Chuuya! I'm going to cum!” You shouted in pure bliss; he was hitting all the right spots; he knew your pussy so well.

“Not far behind you, doll.” The two of you chased your highs, your moans joining in unison as you both cum together. "Fuck, baby, I really have no control when it comes to you.” Chuuya leans down and kisses your forehead.

Dazai -

 'That sweet talking son of a bitch.’ You huff to yourself as you take your seat at your desk. His stupid idea was completely impractical, let alone utterly humiliating, and still you agreed. Dazai and his silver tongue—you could completely ruin his fun and just take it out now, and he would be none the wiser? Or maybe he knows you’ll do that? It's hard to outsmart Dazai. He knows you too well and speaks of the devil. He smiles warmly at you as he takes his seat across Kunikida and Atsushi. You watch as they all engage in conversation, waiting for Dazai to do something. How can he possibly think you’ll get any work done if you are on edge the whole day? Maybe that's his plan? To do nothing and keep you in a constant state of excitement and nervousness.

Then you see it. Dazai reaches for his pocket, and you can see the small black remote he hides under the table out of sight of Kunikida and Atsushi. You stare intently at the small black box in his hands. Your body tenses, waiting for the vibrations to start, but it doesn't happen. You can see the small, subtle smirk on his face as he listens to Atsushi. ‘Bastard’. He’s just playing with the remote in his hand, his thumb grazing over the button, threatening to push the very button that can ruin you within a second, and the thought of it is already making you wet. You were too caught up in your own thoughts to notice the three of them staring at you.

“Y/n? You there?” Atsushi looks at you with concern. You blink a few times, and you briefly look at Dazai, who’s wearing a dark smirk behind Kunikida and Atsushi.

“Sorry, what did you say?” You clear your throat, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. Kunikida looks at you with a disappointed look for not listening to him in the first place.

“I was saying we have a meeting with a client at..." You could no longer hear Kunikida’s voice. The only thing you could register in that moment were the vibrations deep in your pussy. You gripped the table, your knuckles turning white as you pressed your legs together automatically. Your eyes were wide when you realized that he had pressed the button. Biting back a moan, you tried tuning Kunikida back in, but it was no use. “Y/n! Are you even listening to  me?"The vibrator stopped, and you took a shaky breath.

"Yeah, I heard you. Sorry.” You force a smile, trying to play it off. Kunikida sighed but went back to his work, realizing he'd just be wasting more of his precious time on you if you weren't going to listen. You too went back to work after finally composing yourself, but you were still on edge because of Dazai, but holy hell did it feel good.

Eventually you had forgotten all about it, getting too engrossed in your work, and you had managed to meet with the client Kunikida had mentioned earlier. Your day was just starting until those vibrations started again out of nowhere. Your back arched and your hand slammed on the table as you took a sharp inhale at the pleasurable feeling, and you pressed your legs together again for some kind of friction. You noticed all eyes on you as soon as you did that, including Dazai, who had such an evil grin on his face. Your face turned pink out of embarrassment.

“S-sorry…cramps” You lie nervously, then try to go back to work, but Dazai doesn't turn the vibrator off; he keeps it going. Your hand is now subtly trying to cover your mouth as you try to prevent yourself from moaning, and your thighs are once again pressing and rubbing together for some kind of release. Dazai kept this up for the majority of the day, and somehow each time he knew when you would be close, he would just stop.

It was finally the end of the tortuous day, and you were the last one in the office, packing up your things. Then it started again, and thank God no one was around because you let out a moan that you had been holding in while you gripped the table again, bending over to steady yourself. Your legs felt like they could give out on you.

“You’ve been holding that one all day.” You can hear the amusement in his voice as he presses himself up behind you, his chin resting on your shoulder.”

“Dazai…Please” You moan louder; you just want him to stop leaving you on the edge of your orgasm. Dazai’s arms snake around your waist, his right hand traveling down the waistband of your skirt and passing your pants to rub circles on your clit.

“So wet," he murmurs into your ear, applying a little bit of pressure to your clit as he slowly continues to rub circles on it while the vibrator is still going. “And we haven't even gotten to the good part yet.” You let out a whimper as he kisses your neck.

"Dazai, please, let me cum.” Your voice was desperate, and your head rested on his shoulder as he continued to kiss and nibble at your neck. His fingers move a little faster on your aching clit, he just needs to say the words, and you’ll cum right then and there, but he keeps dragging it out, and you're nothing but a moaning mess. Your legs can't even hold you up with how shakey they are as you approach your orgasm.

“You can, Bella; you deserve that much.” He smirks as he presses his lips against your cheek as he helps guide you through your orgasm. The hand that isn't abusing your sensitive bundle of nerves went to his pocket to retrieve the little remote Dazai has become well acquainted with throughout the day.

“Dazai!” Letting out a strangled moan and biting your lip in pure bliss as you came around the vibrator that's been in your cunt all day. Dazai stops rubbing your clit and turns off the vibrator. Your chest is heaving, and a thin layer of sweat has formed on your forehead.

“That’s it, and like I said, that was only the beginning."

Fyodor -

Fyodor never looks at you, and if he does, he looks at you like you’re the dirt beneath his boot. Only on rare occasions like this would he ever look at you, however. Fyodor's gaze barely left the monitors that are stationed behind you. He was acting as if you weren’t bouncing yourself on his cock, his seemingly bored expression never changing, but he wasn't bored. No, not at all. Ignoring you was his way of encouraging you to try harder at getting his attention. You want Fyodor to look at you? To praise you? To grant you a mind-blowing orgasm? You’re going to have to try harder than that, and Fyodor is a patient man with an impressive amount of self-control, which you hate.

You’re struggling, to say the least. Your breathless moans fill the silence of the room as you continue to fuck yourself with Fyodor’s cock, rocking your hips as much as you can before bouncing up and down again, but it just wasn’t the same. Your head falls onto his shoulder as your hands grip his arms, trying to chase your orgasm. You momentarily stop just to catch your breath to go again; doing this yourself was agonisingly painful. You just want Fyodor to take control of you right now so that you don't have to do it alone.

Fyodor knows you're struggling, and he finally looks at you. His gaze is one of amusement and pity at how pathetic you look, trying and failing at chasing your own orgasm like the slut you are without his help.

“Look at you, Myshka—you can’t even do something so simple by yourself.” He smirks as he strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers. His hands trail down to your hips as he holds you in place before thrusting into you. You throw your head back and cry out as he thrusts himself deeper into you, your nails digging into his shoulders that are definitely going to leave marks. “You truly are pathetic, aren't you?” Fyodor will never praise you, no matter what you do. You know that now.

“Oh God!  Fyodor!” You moan loudly and throw your head back as he continues to thrust into you, now fully in control of the pace, only half listening to the degrading things he’s saying to you as if they aren't true.

“That’s right, Myshka, I’m your god.” He holds your chin so that you’re looking at him. He wants to watch you completely fall apart on his cock. Fyodor continued to control your movements; they were fast-paced, leaving you barely a chance to catch your breath. “Eyes on me.” His tone is commanding yet almost condescending, as if you can’t even do that on your own.

“M’gonna cum. Fuck!” You scream as pleasure washes over you as your walls squeeze his cock.

“That’s right, let everyone hear just how good your ‘god’ makes you feel.” He whispers in your ear as you chase your high. Your nails dig deeper into his shoulder, breaking the skin and leaving crescent moon shapes at this point as you finally cum.

Your head rests on his shoulder as you catch your breath coming down from your high. You feel his hand grip your chin gently, making you look at him. Fyodor still has that look on his face—that you’re pathetic and worthless.

“There, that wasn't so hard now, was it?" He smirked down at you, his head tilted, then let go of your chin before looking back at the monitors again. You don't move; he didn’t ask, nor did he move you himself. So you sit there with his cock still embedded inside of you and your head back on his shoulder as you relax. He looked at you. The only time he will ever look at you, even for a few short minutes, is when his cock is buried in your cunt with nothing but degrading words spilling from his mouth. A few minutes later, you stay still, now fully calmed down. You feel his hand on your hair, and you expect him to grab a fist full for him to drag you off of him and toss you to the side like you meant nothing, but instead he strokes your head gently. “You did well, Myshka.”

[leeeeeeef]

im still thinking abt 3-1's impact on phoenix as a character. because in 3-1 he's so trusting and open and unabashedly friendly until he realizes the truth abt dahlia. and just before dahlia is apprehended, she says this to him:

and after that he.. just doesnt tell anyone anything??? he never did get to tell mia about larry and miles and why he became a lawyer. and he doesn't tell maya either until she literally stops him and forces him to tell her. and he didn't tell maya about miles's disappearance. and he didn't say anything about his involvement with iris at the beginning of 3-5.

and in aa4, that secretiveness is only exacerbated after not only his client but the entire legal system suddenly turned on him. right out of the gate in 4-1, phoenix is very selective with the information he discloses, like when he chooses to plead the fifth and refuses to elaborate on his game with shadi, or when he lies to the judge about his locket (through omission, but a lie nonetheless). and even throughout the game, he never tells anyone about his work on the mason system and he doesn't tell apollo and trucy about their mother.

and not only that, but he works as a poker player!! the entire point of poker is to be secretive and misleading!!! and he keeps up this facade throughout the game, projecting this character of a sleazy, shady poker player, even leaning into the rumors of him forging evidence. all when he's trying to enact generally positive legal reforms!! it's as if he's keeping up this poker face throughout the game, and it only makes him even more secretive and cryptic.

my point is, there's such a stark contrast between the bubbly, emotional, and forthcoming college student phoenix wright and the mysterious, closed-off poker player phoenix wright. and even lawyer phoenix is secretive to a degree!!

and i can't help but think that dahlia's last words to phoenix before she was arrested contributed to that change at least partially. do you think dahlia would have never resorted to murder if phoenix didnt tell anyone abt the necklace? do you think he blames himself for doug swallow's death? he was just innocently gushing about his girlfriend!!! how could he have known it would lead to something like this!?? and if this much harm could have been caused just by telling people about a little necklace, i'd understand why phoenix wouldnt want to talk about his life at all!!

but as much as he's been betrayed or weathered down, no matter how many walls he builds or how he changes, there's one thing that has stayed constant throughout his life as we've seen it, and that's especially apparent with his beanie and locket. his beanie, likely a gift from trucy with the word "papa" stitched onto it, and the locket with a picture of his daughter. both symbols of his love for trucy, just like how he wore the bottle necklace and the sweater made by iris as a sign of his love for her. and if there's anything to glean from these parallels, it's that there's a part of phoenix that never faded away after all those years, that still cares for people so ardently and so strongly and with all his heart. and that's something that will probably never change.

[astrobydalia]

Astro knowledge

A short more educational post for y'all!

work by astrobydalia

Pisces/Neptune rules marketing while Gemini/Mercury is more about sales. They’re both deeply related but difference is Gemini is the salesman that appeals to your reason and resorts to mind games (Mercury) in a one-on-one to convince you why you should buy into something. Marketing on the other hand is ruled by Pisces because it appeals to the collective unconscious (Neptune). It’s all about crafting subliminal messages that make you see that product/idea as more appealing even when you know what you're seeing is not realistic. Very related to propaganda as well. This is also a field that requires a lot of creativity, they're constantly using metaphors, hyperboles or even making up little fictional stories to sell a product...

I've already said this but for anyone new, the planet that rules real love is moon not Venus. See the full explanation here

Where Sagittarius is in your chart will bring luck and happiness, but Taurus does give off expansive (or dare I say expensive) energy too. Where Taurus sits in your chart is an area of your life that will be more grandiose in nature cause Taurus rules over indulgence and pleasure. You could experience some sort of privilege when it comes to this house, the themes of this house come to you in abundance with little to no effort. Some examples:

Taurus 1st house: have a striking and bold appearance, gives off luxury and attractive vibes regardless of their looks. These people could come across as a "high value woman/man" without trying

Taurus 7th house: very active and abundant love life, lots of suitors and business partners landing on your lab, they want to provide for you and/or give you lucrative opportunities

Taurus 9th house: having access to high quality education or elevated knowledge. Probably attended a very exclusive or expensive collage, payed vacations vibes, easy and frequent relocations

Taurus 10th house: almost untouchable reputation, very respected and liked by others, is always seen as innocent or harmless, lots of success with their ventures

The 2nd house also talks about your roots and upbringing but in a more objective and material sense. This house and the position of its ruler can be very telling of how your actual social and economic context shaped your basic values. It can also talk about your house as the 2nd house rules over real state, lands, properties, etc. The 4th house is more about your home, how you were raised within that reality and how it impacted you emotionally at your core

Example: Libra risings could come from an environment that shaped their values around survival and money gains due to Scorpio 2nd house (I've seen very commonly they come from marginalized groups or humble beginnings or very financially competitive environments). So they have a family that is very demanding and expected them to work or be a boss from a young age (Capricorn 4th house)

Speaking of, 2nd house does not ONLY rule money!!! It rules RESOURCES and anything that you own that is highly valuable and you can put a price on!!!! And yes of course since these things are valuable they can be easily monetized, traded, used to make you money. This can be your skills, assets, real state, etc. The 2nd house is your piggy bank basically

There's a lot of talk about how 11th house is how you make money in your career while 2nd house is how you spend it. Well this is technically true but I'd like to add more explanation to this. In derivative astrology 11th house is 2nd (money) from the 10th (career) so it does show how you actually make money from your career. 2nd house is where you get money but 11th house is how you make money. Your 11th house is the multiplier (credits to @cosmicpuzzle for that fact) while 2nd house is where your financial stability lies on. In other words 11th house is indicative of how you generate more but 2nd house is all about what you already have, its about what you can make with what you OWN already, it deals with money that is already available through your resources' value (again, you piggy bank). This does 'make' you money in a way like if you lose your job and are lacking money your 2nd house where you turn to for example if you own a house you can rent it, you can buy a rare item that costs a lot, selling your art or any other natural skill, etc. The concept of value is important in this house bc it can increase or decrease (while 11th house increases and multiplies). The more valuable your resources are the more potential money you have available which means more financial stability and wealth. Anyways hope all that makes sense

We often refer to water signs when talking spirituality but truth is fire signs are very spiritual in nature as well. Fire symbolizes the spark of life itself, nothing could exist or be created without it. Aries deals with the basic ontological conception of 'I am, I exist', Leo is about how the self manifests and create itself and Sagittarius is about the purpose of the self. Living beings need heat to thrive/live and just like fire radiates heat your spirit radiates energy, creativity, passion, action, inspiration, purpose... and that's what fire signs represent. I'd say fire represents the fundamentality of spirit while water is more about the complexity of inner world.

Just like Aries is the "natural" ASC for a birth chart, Libra is the natural ASC for a composite chart cause a birth chart represents the chart of an individual (Aries) while composite represents the mutual relationship between two people (Libra)

When you develop the themes of a certain house in a healthy manner, you naturally start attracting the themes of the opposite house. This goes to show you that things in astrology aren't as compartmentalized as they seem, everything works together in certain way SPECIALLY axis'. Examples:

You need to focus on yourself first (1st house) to find the right partner (7th house)

You need to investigate and learn (3rd house) in order to find higher answers (9th house)

When you invest successfully (8th house) you earn more available resources (2nd house).

When you develop your hobbies and individuality (5th house) you find keen people (11th house)

When you heal spiritually (12th house) you find healthier habits (6th house)

There's this misconception that you have to disregard your South Node in order to develop you NN, but the thing is the SN is the starting point that can lead you towards developing your NN. This can happen as a harsh and painful lesson tho if you liger too much on your SN. For example NN in Libra need to learn to compromise in this life, there's a lot of focus on the self and independence, but eventually this placement teaches them that if you really wanna develop yourself in full potential (Aries) eventually you'll need others (Libra). If they linger too much on Aries SN they could experience a harsh lesson that forces them to count on others

work by astrobydalia

[creepy-friday]

PLS PLS PLS I NEED MORE PROXY THINGS I KEEP REREADING THE OLD ONES AND U WRITE SO WELL

Sure thing!I noticed a lot of people are rereading the old ones so I promise I will come back with more ideas!

Female!Proxy toughts Headcanons for every creep of the mansion

Warnings: foul language, suggestive themes, violence

Masky thinks he should've been in your place.He wants your attention but at the same time hates your guts.Always wants to pick a fight with you,maybe he's in such a contradiction with himself because your personality softened his sharp edges making him confused.

Hoodie acts all buddy-buddy with you when the two of you aren't on duty.He doesn't hide the way the tension rises from other people's perspective when he talks to you.He's simply curious about who you truly are,an individual like you in such a fucked up place and in such a high position is..intriguing to say at least.

Toby follows your orders and values your presence the most out of the other proxies he's biased. Because he's been taken advantage of many times,your humanity sparked his hope,he thinks that in you he can actually find something heart warming in this hell hole.

Cody is a little annoying at times.Since you didn't shove him off he deeply thinks you're into him,that's why he keeps on inviting you to see the dangerous shit he's creating.

Kate uses every chance she has to imply that you have sexual relationships with the proxies.She's isn't jealous nor wants to take your place,she simply sees herself as slightly superior since she's been here before you.

Jeff has personal issues with every resident near him,including you.He doesn't think of himself as highly as Masky tough.All the mocking and tantrums are because he doesn't belive your good intentions.

Ben is a fucking menace and fucks with your head since he knows you can't physically hurt him.He thinks you're by far the most interesting creep to watch.

EJ respects you.He thinks that you are disgusted by him almost as he is of himself given your role as a demon hunter.His insecurity made him give up any reason to try to talk to you.Watching from afar he knows you're one of the few residents that are still human by heart.

Liu has a very high opinion about yourself.You already proved to be a good person to him when you took EJ's side in an argument with Masky.He would make conversation with you whenever you two are around.

Sully might act like Liu around you so that he can see more of you.Just like other creeps,he fantasies about having a hand to hand spare with you.He talks to you like you're a pice of meat sometimes but he acknowledges your strength.

Slenderman's presence is being known by his general sickness to the other creeps but the fever is high and tormenting when it comes to you.It's clear that he favors you and the fact that he chose you as his watchdog is enough to bring your confidence skyrocket.

Jane watches you from afar.She thinks you're a good fit to be a leader.Surprisingly,she agreed with your every decision and never had anything to add or to take.

Zero is jealous of you and your high status.She despises your guts and would team up with anyone to put you down or to shame you.She's a bitch but I bet she would fuck you tough.She's the "do I want to be her or be with her?"

Clockwork likes how a woman is top shit and she treats you as an equal.Might ask you for your opinion and expects you to listen to hers as well.She thinks you're a good leader.

Nina adores you.You genuinely had a good impact on her mental health and looks up to you.She would be shocked if you would hurt her in any way,after everything she went trough all she needs is a friend.The choice is yours.

Sally thinks that you are really cool and wishes you would take that mask off more often.Since you don't brush her off like the others she's looking forward to talk to you when you're not busy.Confidently slips tea parties invites down your door.

Bloody Painter is mostly indifferent to the power dynamics in the mansion.Sure,he will be respectful to you since that's in his personality but he's apathetic to anything that isn't "aesthetically pleasing".He judges a book by its cover and the ghoul-like design on your mask makes him believe you're no different from the creatures you encounter in the forest.Misunderstanding at its best