#intonation and pacing and everything

[sugurugetoshairbrush]

tl;dr hotboxing the v with stoner!suguru getou [prev] [nxt]

“You gotta stop fidgeting on my lap, you’re gonna make me lose.”

“I’m bored,” you whine.

Nestled snugly in Suguru’s lap, you cling to him like a koala, face buried in his neck. The rich, earthy scent of his cologne—sandalwood, your favorite—does little to distract from the fact that you’re getting zero attention.

You know who is? Gojo (derogatory).

After a long day at work, the thought of unwinding with Suguru was the only thing that kept you pushing through your exhausting shift. Now, thanks to the spare key Suguru gave you, showing up unannounced had become routine. You’d imagined finding him napping or lounging so you could snuggle, but instead, you were greeted by the thunderous sounds of Suguru and Gojo yelling over a video game.

Ever sweet, Suguru greeted you with a warm smile—but not an ounce of eye contact as he hunched over, aggressively mashing buttons. He’d invited you to sit on his lap, promising it was “one last round.”

That was four rounds ago.

At this point, you’ve resigned yourself to either falling asleep to the rhythmic sounds of button-mashing or waiting for Gojo to rage-quit. But a surprising third option presents itself in the form of Suguru’s phone ringing.

Suguru nudges you with his controller. “Mind answering that for me? It’s in my right pocket.”

Rolling your eyes, you reach into his pocket, fishing out the phone. The caller ID reads: 

Toji (Neighbor/Nuisance)

Suguru groans. “Ugh, who knows what crazy-ass shit Toji’s about to unload now.”

Eager for a change in pace, you accept the call and press the phone to Suguru’s ear. “Here, Sugu. I’ll hold it for you.”

Toji’s boisterous voice is loud enough to catch snippets like “no kid tonight,” “get wild,” “casino,” and “can’t say no.” Suguru exchanges a few exasperated grunts before sighing in defeat. “Okay, okay. Meet you down there in 30.”

Suguru signals for you to end the call, groaning as he explains, “So… here’s the deal. Toji’s kid is with his mom, and he just scored ten grand off some hustle. Now he wants to hit the casino. And since Gojo dumped his drug-dog onto him, we kinda owe him.” He grimaces. “We can’t exactly say no.”

Gojo clutches his chest dramatically. “Why does everything I do come back to bite me in the ass?! I need my chakras aligned.”

“You need your brain cells aligned,” you retort. “Let’s just get ready for whatever nonsense Toji has cooked up.”

You twist around, reaching for the zip on the table to “prepare” yourself for Toji’s rough personality. Just as your fingers brush the bag, Suguru puts his controller down, catching your arm in a smooth, practiced motion.

“Nah, we’re good,” he says, his voice calm but with a hint of amusement. “Toji’s gonna smoke us out. Said we could hotbox his car.”

Gojo pauses mid-stretch, eyebrows shooting up as he grabs his navy half-zip from the back of the couch. Tugging it on over his shirt, he lets out a dramatic scoff. His bright blue eyes are wide with disbelief.

“The Honda?!” he exclaims. “Only bad things happen in that Honda.”

You shrug, unfazed. “Tough shit, Mister ‘I Make Impulse Purchases When High,’ Satoru.”

He narrows his eyes at you, dramatically clasping his hands together as if summoning divine wisdom. “Chakra. Alignment,” he intones, deadpan, before zipping up his jacket with a flourish.

Thirty minutes later, you’re stepping out of Suguru’s apartment building to find Toji leaning against his black Honda Accord. He’s decked out in Amiri jeans and a smug grin, fanning a stack of cash.

Toji’s eyes flick to you, shamelessly sizing you up. “Didn’t know you were bringing your little friend along. Not that I’m complaining.”

Suguru steps in front of you, voice low and sharp. “Eyes up here, Toji. She’s not interested.”

Gojo saunters past them, LV messenger bag swinging as he slides into the passenger seat. “Like that’s gonna stop him. He's a menace to society,” he mutters.

Inside the Honda, the smell is… questionable. The seats bear faint stains, and there’s a musky undertone, despite Toji’s claim he “Febreezed it earlier.” Suguru rolls down his window before Toji even starts the car.

“Better enjoy that fresh air,” Toji warns with a grin. “Once we hotbox, no weaklings breaking the seal.”

Gojo scoffs, pulling down the visor to adjust his hair. “How’s Gojo Junior, by the way? You find him a loving home yet?”

“Funny you ask,” Toji smirks. “Sold him to a buddy who coordinates underground dog fights. You can catch him in the doggy ring on Tuesday.”

The car goes silent. Your jaw drops as Suguru sputters. Gojo’s tinted Ray-Bans slip down his nose, his face frozen in horror.

“WHAT?!” you and Suguru exclaim in unison.

“Relax,” Toji chuckles, taking a sharp turn that throws you into Suguru’s side. Suguru steadies you with an arm around your shoulders, fingers brushing your neck. You shudder instinctively, shaking your head as Toji continues. “You said you needed it gone. I did that, didn't I?”

You interrupt, “Let’s circle back to what the fuck that was later. Right now, I need to know where you copped the weed, Toji. Getting laced isn’t exactly on my bingo card.”

Toji chuckles darkly. “Don’t worry that pretty little head,” he says, reaching into the center console with his free hand. He retrieves a blue mylar bag and dangles it between two fingers. “Picked up some gas from the dispensary.”

The car swerves slightly, and Gojo snatches the bag out of Toji’s hand.

“Toji, dear God, focus on the road! I can get you whatever you need!”

Toji smirks, undeterred. “Ah, you don’t worry that pretty little head either,” he teases.

Gojo fake-gags, clutching his throat and miming an exaggerated retch before snatching up the bag.

“Oh shit!” he exclaims, holding it up triumphantly for you and Suguru to see, his bright blue eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “This strain? Mine.” He taps at the fine print on the back of the bag, where, sure enough, his name is inscribed as cannabis breeder.

Grinning like a kid showing off a gold star, Gojo shoves the bag back in Toji’s face. “Cultivated by yours truly.”

Toji playfully jerks the wheel, making Gojo lurch back into his seat, wheezing.

Despite the casino being thirty minutes away, it feels like you get there in ten, bumping into Suguru’s side more times than you can count as the car winds through the streets.

Toji parallel parks right in front of the strip, snugging the car into a tight spot. You cringe with every movement, bracing for the sound of metal scraping metal, but it never comes.

He leans his seat back, invading your already cramped space, and pulls out two rolling trays. One gets passed to Suguru while the other balances precariously on the center console.

“Gotchu doll,” Toji says, swatting away Gojo’s hands as he picks up the mylar bag and starts grinding the weed.

You lean your head on Suguru’s shoulder, watching as he expertly packs the blunt, his fingers flexing with practiced ease. His brows knit together in concentration, and you absentmindedly trace the slit in one of them with your fingertip. The flick of the lighter precedes the soft flare of a flame as Suguru seals the blunt with a lick and lights it with a calm efficiency.

He passes the blunt to you first, winking, his lashes low and dark against his cheekbones. “Ladies first.”

Toji smirks and rolls up the windows. “Get your last breath of fresh air, everyone.”

You comply, taking a deep inhale before the blunt meets your lips. The first drag is warm and sweet, the earthy blueberry flavor lingering on your tongue. By the third, Suguru’s lips press against yours, his tongue sneaking between them as he kisses you deeply, tasting the smoke still in your mouth.

Drawing back, he hums appreciatively. “Mmm, Gojo, your strain’s flavor is so distinct it’s kiss-transferable. Truly one of one.”

Gojo whoops. “No way! I need to start charging more for my work. I’m in the lab cooking like Professor Utonium.” He grabs the blunt from Suguru and hands him the second one that Toji just finished rolling.

By now, the car is heavy with smoke. The faint buzz in your limbs morphs into a warm tingle as Toji launches into a monologue about his latest scams.

“—And if you make a big purchase, I’ll get your money back—ten percent cut for me, of course,” he explains, passing the blunt.

Gojo, giggling uncontrollably, wheezes. “Panhandling in a hotbox is CRAZY work.”

Toji’s reclines in his seat, legs spread wide, “What can I say, I got kids to feed.”

Suguru taps your thigh, drawing you out of a daze. You pass him the blunt with a shaky hand, shooting him a lazy grin. His gaze lingers, warm and heavy, before he takes a long drag.

You take a deep breath, but your lungs only fill with thick smoke, leaving you coughing softly. 

Blinking through the haze, it dawns on you—each of you is now holding a blunt, four in rotation. The air is dense, swirling with the acrid sweetness of burning weed, and the car feels like a hotbox on steroids.

Toji shifts in his seat, the humidity inside making his dark hair cling to his neck. He fiddles with the radio, pausing on a 90s hip-hop station. The bass-heavy beat fills the car as he nods along, a small grin playing on his lips.

“This used to be my shit,” he mutters, lost in the music.

“Old head,” Gojo chimes in, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Without missing a beat, Toji fires back, “I prefer DILF, thank you.”

Your phone buzzes in your lap, the screen lighting up with a message. Suguru notices and leans over, smirking as you open the group chat:

last 3 braincells

sugu: so are we just gonna ignore how toji’s macking on gojo rn HARD

toru: mom pick me up im scared

You bite back a laugh, shoulders shaking as Suguru chuckles quietly against your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

you: am I the only 1 who heard him say kids? as in plural…

toru: YOOO WTF yr right he did!

sugu: aint no mf way

Meanwhile, Toji is oblivious, drumming his fingers on the console and humming along to the music. 

He casts a glance back at you all. “Whatchu kids know ‘bout this?”

toru: 3 minutes

sugu: huh?

toru: 3 min until I crack open my window I feel like I’m suffocating

sugu: nonononononono

you: omg toru me too I’ve choked down 9 coughs you: it hurts so bad

Gojo snakes his hand between the seats, holding up three fingers as he starts a silent countdown. 

You reach over, squeezing his hand in solidarity, your chest burning from suppressed coughs.

Suguru leans into you again, his lips brushing your ear. “I’m officially faded,” he whispers, voice light and hazy.

Finally, Gojo rolls down the window, and chaos erupts.

A dense cloud of smoke billows out, so thick it looks like the car’s on fire. Toji yells, “THE FUCK?!” scrambling to lock the windows, but it’s too late. The night swallows the smoke, leaving the car reeking and Toji fuming.

Outside, you stretch, your movements sluggish as your lungs finally catch some fresh air. The world feels surreal, every sensation heightened and slightly off-kilter. Smoke continues to waft out, curling into the night sky like some supernatural fog.

Toji glares at Gojo, shaking his head. “Y’all are lucky I’m feeling nice tonight,” he grumbles, popping the trunk with a sharp click. “Let’s head in now.”

He grabs his bag, slinging it over his shoulder as Gojo circles the car, unzipped bag in hand and a fistful of gummy bears in his mouth. “Welf,” Gojo mumbles, barely intelligible around the candy, “thas was… interessing.”

You swipe a couple of gummy bears from his bag, popping one into your mouth and offering another to Suguru. The sugary burst soothes your throat, and Suguru hums appreciatively as he takes the gummy from your fingers.

Suguru holds up the gummy bear. “Here’s to playing bystander while Toji speedruns going broke.”

Gojo cackles, tossing a gummy into his mouth. “And thus, the world restores its natural order.”

The inside of the casino hits you like a sensory overload in your inebriated state. Flashing lights blur and disorient, leaving you dumbstruck until Suguru’s firm pull steadies you. The air buzzes with energy, a cacophony of laughter, shouts, and the constant chime of slot machines. The sharp scent of liquor mixes with the faint aroma of stale cigarettes. High ceilings and regal gold detailing loom above, exuding opulence, but you can’t shake the feeling of being out of place. Self-consciousness creeps in, tightening around your chest.

Suguru’s hand threads through yours, warm and grounding. You follow him as he trails behind Gojo, weaving through the sea of patrons toward the slot machines. The upturned glances from passersby sting—a mix of judgment and amusement no doubt drawn by the pungent scent of weed clinging to your clothes. You square your shoulders and decide to own it.

Settling next to Gojo, you watch him whip out a wad of cash with zero hesitation. He gleefully feeds the glowing red slot machine, his movements full of fervor. You and Suguru exchange a knowing glance, both having agreed earlier to sit out on gambling. The likelihood of loss was too high for your liking.

But Gojo? Gojo thrives on chaos.

He strikes out again and again, spinning and losing sixty consecutive bets. The grating whirl of the slots feels louder than ever in your ears.

Then, miraculously, he hits a match. Gojo’s eyes light up with disbelief and excitement, his grin infectious. Without missing a beat, he stuffs another ten bills into the machine.

Suguru groans, rubbing his temple. “I want the record to show that when Satoru complains about losing hundreds tomorrow, I’m absolutely saying, ‘I told you s—’’”

“COOME ON, SEVEN! C’MON! COME TO DADDY!”

The booming voice is unmistakable. Toji.

You and Suguru whip your heads around, craning to see where the commotion is coming from. A large crowd clusters near the craps table, and you catch a glimpse of Toji gesturing wildly. You nudge Gojo’s shoulder, but he waves you off without looking up.

“Can’t stop. I’m on a roll.”

Rolling your eyes, you follow Suguru as he pushes through the crowd. People mutter complaints, but you’re too curious to care. Finally, you reach the front.

Toji is at the center of it all, shooting dice with the swagger of someone who owns the place. A hefty stack of cash rests on the table, and the crowd cheers as he rolls another seven. Chips clatter as side bets are placed, the table a kaleidoscope of frantic energy.

“Blow for me, sweetheart,” Toji purrs to a blushing young woman beside him. She complies with a shy smile, and Toji winks before tossing the dice with practiced ease. They land with precision—a perfect seven.

“FUCK YEAH!”

Cheers erupt again, only to be cut short by a voice crackling over the speakers:

“Good evening, patrons. Could the owner of a black Honda Accord parked out front please make their way to the front desk? You are wrongfully parked in VIP. Thank you.”

Toji curses under his breath, scanning the crowd until his eyes land on you. “AYEE, Suguru! Be a dear and handle that for me, huh? I’ll give you a cut of this sweet cash.”

Suguru sighs, extending his arms. Toji tosses the keys, which Suguru catches effortlessly.

You make your way back through the crowd, calling out over the commotion, “At least we’ve got an excuse to leave now! This is insane!”

Outside, the cool night air hits your face, bringing instant relief from the chaos inside. You slide into the passenger seat, sighing as you pull Suguru’s arm toward you and snuggle into his warmth. He hums softly, the blinker ticking as he maneuvers the car toward the parking lot down the street.

The headlights flicker, casting dim light on the uneven pavement. Suguru squints, searching for an open spot. After a few minutes of frustration, he backs into a secluded space far from the casino.

“It’s even farther than I thought,” you mutter, not looking forward to the walk back.

Suguru reclines his seat with a heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You nuzzle into his bicep, stroking his fingers.

“What’s wrong, Suguru?”

“This just isn’t how I pictured tonight going,” he admits, tilting his head back with a wry smile.

You kiss along his arm, teasing, “Oh, come on. You’d just be playing video games all night anyway. Don’t act like I didn’t save you from yourself.”

He chuckles, his eyes softening as he glances down at you. “Neglecting you, was I? My apologies, baby.”

He juts his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout, and the mischievous glint in his eye makes your heart flutter. “Come here,” he murmurs, guiding you onto his lap.

You crawl over to the driver’s seat eagerly, letting Suguru’s hands guide your legs until you’re firmly settled on his lap. His palms trace the curve of your thighs, warm and deliberate, as he pouts dramatically, his expression expectant.

Turning your face away, you catch a lock of his long, black hair between your fingers, twirling it absently. He reaches up, cupping your cheeks and squeezing gently, forcing your lips into an exaggerated pout.

“Don’t do that,” he murmurs, leaning forward to kiss you, firm and unyielding.

You refuse to meet his kiss, turning your face further away in defiance. He exhales a quiet laugh, releasing your face to pepper soft kisses on each cheek before cradling your jaw with both hands. His dark eyes lock onto yours, half-lidded with a mixture of fondness and heat. His thumb brushes your bottom lip, his touch languid as it draws teasing circles along your thigh.

The resolve for your bratty act falters under his touch, and your resistance melts. You lean in, capturing his lips roughly, hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. Teeth graze, tongues intertwine, and the kiss grows hungrier, his low groans resonating between you.

Your fingers trail to the sensitive shell of his ear, stroking lightly. His breath catches, and he grinds against you in response, lips trailing down to the curve of your neck.

“You gonna finally take care of me, Sugu?” you whisper breathlessly. “Right here, in Toji’s car?”

He groans against your skin, biting gently before pulling back to look at you. “Yeah? So needy you need me right here?”

His hands slide under your shirt, palms splaying against your bare skin as he presses a kiss to the base of your throat. His hips buck upward, grinding into you, and a soft moan escapes your lips.

“Want you, Sugu. Need you now,” you murmur, tugging at the waistband of your leggings.

Suguru chuckles low, kissing you again as he helps slide your leggings down, lips never straying far from your skin. You tug at his zipper, freeing him from his boxers. His cock springs free, thick and glistening at the tip, the deep tan of his skin contrasting sharply with the flushed pink of his head, already leaking.

“God,” you whisper, staring at him through your lashes as you lean down, kissing the velvety head. 

Your tongue flicks over the slit, savoring the salty taste of him as he groans, head falling back.

“Pretty girl,” he rasps, “don’t make me wait.”

You smirk, letting your spit drip down his shaft, spreading it in slow strokes before positioning yourself over him. His hands grip your hips as you sink onto him, inch by inch, the stretch stealing the breath from your lungs.

“Fuck,” he groans, holding you steady. “That’s it, baby. So tight, so perfect.”

You bottom out with a gasp, the fullness almost overwhelming, and he grinds you against him, his hips rolling to drive him deeper. The sensation sends a shiver through you, and you bite into his neck to muffle a moan.

He responds with a sharp slap to your ass, the sting making you squeak. “Move, baby. Need to feel you.”

You begin bouncing on him, your pace faltering as pleasure wracks your body. Suguru takes over, gripping your thighs and lifting you effortlessly, his movements deep and relentless. You’re reduced to broken moans, your nails clawing at his chest beneath his shirt.

“F-fuck, Sugu—ah touch me,” you whimper.

He obliges, one hand sliding to your clit, rubbing in tight circles. You cry out his name, trembling as the coil in your stomach snaps, leaving you gushing around him.

“Look at me,” he commands, his voice rough.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting his heated gaze as he thrusts up into you, chasing his own release. 

His grip tightens, and with a low groan, he spills inside you, warmth flooding your core.

You collapse against his chest, his lips brushing your temple as you both catch your breath. His fingers stroke through your hair, and you hum contentedly, savoring the intimacy of the moment.

Then his phone vibrates, breaking the quiet. You retrieve it, holding it up as Suguru unlocks it.

Satoru: SOS Toji is down $5k in the hole, and I gambled away all my cash. Satoru: Please come get us. /srs Satoru: Pull up to the front ASAP. Satoru: Now he’s down $6k. Hurry!!!

Suguru reads the messages aloud, his voice tinged with amusement. You both glance at the mess you’ve left on Toji’s seat and exchange a sheepish look.

“Well,” you say, smirking, “he can’t be that mad. Not when he’s already lost sixteen grand.”

Suguru laughs, shaking his head as he pulls you close again. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

[taglist: @inthedarkshadows000 @saltyhansen @m0rgui <33]

[buccini555]

𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 - 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧

≡ 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚... They called you (their wife) several times but you didn't answer because your cell phone just ran out of battery, but this ended up worrying them

⌕ x r e a d e r !

★ 𝑭𝒕. Manjiro Sano, Sanzu Haruchiyo, Rindou Haitani and Kakucho Hitto

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐨

Manjiro called you frequently when he wasn't idle to make sure you were okay even though he was so far away from you, at that moment, he had been trying to call you for some time, when he realized that your cell phone was out of range, he began to become extremely worried.

"Honey? Answer, now, dammit!" He would say dialing your number countless times, with each missed call he became more distressed, pacing from one side to the other, all he could think was that something bad had happened to you, Manjiro began to tremble, as if his heart was being crushed, even so, he continued to call you insistently, leaving several messages and sending several messages.

"Babe? Where the fuck were you? Shit, I was worried about you." As soon as you managed to charge your phone's battery, you returned Manjiro's calls, who answered immediately.

"Sorry, my phone died." You said, noticing the distress in Manjiro's trembling voice and the anxiety in his intonation.

"Start paying more attention to your damn phone battery... I'm glad you're okay." He felt calmer knowing that his concern was unnecessary, so he soon ended up hanging up the phone call.

𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐳𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐨

Haruchiyo cares extremely about his wife's well-being, so whenever he's not around to keep her safe, Sanzu takes advantage of any free time to make a few calls to see if everything was okay or if you were really in need of something.

As usual, he called you, noticing the delay in a response, the taller started to get a little impatient and uncomfortable, realizing that this was an unusual situation, concern took over him.

"Shit, shit! Something happened... I'm sure it happened." Sanzu said in a loud thought as he sent you thousands of messages, still calling you instantly and realizing that your cell phone was out of range, his desperation only increased every minute as if he was about to have an anxiety or panick attack.

"Honey? Honey where were you? I was worried, did something happen?" As soon as you could answer, Haruchiyo didn't even allow you to explain yourself, already filling you with questions.

"I'm sorry, Haru, my cell phone ran out of battery." You spoke, relieving his anxiety at that moment.

"Holy shit, I thought you were kidnapped." Haruchiyo laughed nervously and reassured himself that you were okay.

𝐑𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐢

No matter how busy and busy Rindou was, he always found a way to call you to see if you were okay even with his absence because he was far away, Rindou remained even more worried in case something happened to his wife.

"Hey love?" Rindou said, but before you could even respond, your cell phone's battery died, as soon as the call dropped without the older even hearing your voice, a huge worry took over your chest.

"Fuck!?" He sent you countless messages and tried to call you back countless times, however, he realized that your cell phone was out of range, probably turned off, this fact made him feel even more distressed by your sudden absence.

"Rin? Sorry, my phone died." When your cell phone called again, you could finally talk to Rindou, seeing so many missed calls, you couldn't even imagine how worried he was.

"It's okay, princess. The important thing is that you're okay." He breathed a sigh of relief as soon as he heard his voice, Rindou spent a few minutes questioning if you were really okay as he was on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

𝐊𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐨 𝐇𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐨

When he had to be away from you for some reason, Kakucho was completely concerned about being away in case something happened to you or that you needed him by your side, even if he was busy to the bone, Kakucho always found a way to get away from you a time to at least give you a call to make sure his wife was safe and well.

"Love?" He questioned himself as to why his cell phone was turned off and out of range, as unusual as it was for you not to answer his calls, at first, Kakucho tried to simply remain calm, but with each missed call his concern only increased, making him call you countless times and send countless messages, Kakucho began to think about what bad could have happened to you, making his heart beat increasingly faster due to anxiety.

"I'm sorry! My phone was out of battery, Kaku." When I finally managed to talk to him, he noticed how desperate he was, Kakucho honestly worried a lot, but all of this was a reflection of his love for you.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry for calling you so many times, I'm worried, I love you." Kakucho replied, still frantic but with his heart relieved to know that nothing bad had happened to you as he had compulsively imagined.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One and Only

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You meet your biggest fan.

Based on response: She’s famous & he’s a stalker fan? 1940s au?

Characters: Bucky Barnes

This is #1 of the Valentines Roulette stories

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I’m sending the script this afternoon, honey,” Gerald promises through the speaker. You hold the receive to your ear and suppress a sigh. It’s a blessing that he can’t see your expression. ‘Honey.’  

“Sure thing, Ger,” you reply as you try to peer through the foggy glass pane. What a miserable February. 

“Screen tests start Monday,” he intones, as if you’ve not done this before. What number is this? You signed a contract for ten pictures, this is number seven of the lot. You cannot wait to shop around for a new studio. 

“Yes, Ger,” you answer dully. “See ya then.” 

“Three o’clock. There about,” he girds. 

“I’ll be around. Monday, then, Ger.” 

“Monday, honey.” 

You hang up. You arch your brow as your lips move with the retort you’re under terms and conditions not to say. ‘If you want honey, Gerald, go find a hive.’ You sigh to your content and adjust your rob beneath the satin belt cinched around your waist. 

There’s a knock at the door. You look at the clock in its ivory frame. It must be the mailman. You answer and accept his bundle. Some from those who watch your pictures and a letter from your sister. You shuffle through them and leave them scattered over the kitchen table. 

You pace. You’d hoped to have that script early. You might not be very happy with the films they’ve put you on but learning lines at least keeps your mind busy.  

As you sweep through the entryway, your satin robe catches the air and sends a breeze around the space. There’s a scuff along the hardwood that snags on the tassled corner of the rug. You must’ve dropped it when you took the handful from the mailman. 

You bend to pluck up the scrap of paper, folded in a tight square. When you untuck the corner, it forms a sort of accordion. You carefully unfold it, careful not to tear it. You reveal its sparse contents. 

The crosshatch of an inky nib has formed an image. One you vaguely recognise as yourself. The war feels like ages ago though it only just ended. It’s back to business as usual. No more tours through Europe, no more riding in cargo bays with the prettied up dances. Everything is all so dull these days. 

In the hastily scratched portrait, your hair is painfully twisted into victory rolls and the military cap pinned at just the right angle. You remember the soldiers, the worn gray palour and dark circles, the tatters in their uniforms as the complained for drawing lines up their legs to mimic the nylon these men needed to jump out of planes. 

You examine the torn edge and a few blots of ink and some other dark hue. There’s a scrawl in the corner. Loopy writing; ‘Happy Valentines. Only you on my mind. JBB’. Those messages are not unexpected. You are thankful for your admirers if not at time, perturbed by their assumptions of familiarity. Yet, you’ve chose the studio lights and camera lenses. It comes with the territory. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It’s three o’clock. Bucky’s watch is set, tightly strapped to his right wrist. Out of habit, he looks to the left and finds nothing. His shoulder is itchy where his muscles should tug but there’s nothing there. Just a pinned sleeve and frustration. 

He clears his throat and keeps the thick bound folder under his arm. The boy gave him no trouble, asked no questions. I’m the porter, kid, I’ll see it to her. No need to go bothering the lady. 

He marches down the winding stone walk. His car is near the sprawl of pine. He misses his motorcycle but he can’t figure how to steer it with one hand. Even the steering wheel gives him a bit of trouble. 

He presses his arm tighter to the script as he approaches the stoop. There’s a round stone platform before the door that forms steps up to the entrance. Moulds of ancient Greek statues stand in small alcoves beneath the lights on either side of the door frame.  

He stops before the door and bends his head as he tries to fix his hair. He shaved for this. It’s been a while. He spent long with the scissors, clipping through the shanks than he did with the razor. That’s another thing that’s harder. He struggled to get just the right angle around the left side of his jaw. There’s a nick there. 

He straightens up and stares at the arched door. He needs to knock. He has to step close and batters his knuckles on the wood. He backs up and looks down. He hasn’t worn a suit since he came home. They made him do it as they shouted ‘victory’ in the streets. 

He waits. No answer. He looks around. She has a bell. He shifts around then uses his nose to press it. Damn arm. 

He fixes his posture and smiles, then quickly wipes it away. You don’t want to look strange. No, not like some of the men they took off the lines. They got that glassy look. Some of them couldn’t do anything but laugh or cry. 

Her shadow darkens under the door before she opens it. She’s surprised by him. She bats her long lashes. They are naked, like the rest of her face. He’s just as stunned to see her in her natural form. No cosmetics, all her. She’s even more gorgeous. 

“Oh, I was expecting Stuart,” she greets him. “Pardon,” she tries to fix her hair. She wears a satin robe and slippers with feathers. “You have it?” 

She gestures to the script. He looks down at it and slides it down to his hands. He examines the cover. 

“Uh, yes, ma’am, miss,” he forgets everything he meant to say. All those lines he rehearsed in the dark theatre. The script he wrote when he lay restless in his bed. 

“Thank you, sir,” she reaches for it. He hesitates to hand it over. 

“I saw you. In the Hague,” he says as she latches onto the spine. He doesn’t let go. 

She looks at him. She has a serene look on her face, even as her eyes wander down to his pinned sleeve. She almost seems to brighten. 

“With the company?” She asks. “You saw me on stage?” 

“You’re real funny, miss,” he bounces on his heels. “Charming.” 

“Well, it’s the least I could do for your men. You gave so much,” she keeps a hold of the script. 

He looks at his left shoulder then at her. 

“Some things were taken,” he grumbles. 

She blanches, “pardon me, sir, I didn’t mean--” 

“I just wanted to say,” he overrides her apology. She doesn’t need to be sorry. “When I was in the medic’s tent, all those weeks, it was you. You got me through. I saw ya in the magazines. They were old, you know? Don’t get them hot off the press in the field.” 

“Sure,” she utters, he feels the tension in the folder as she tries to wiggle it away. “What’s your name, sir?” 

“James,” he answers. “James Buchanan Barnes.” 

She smiles, “that’s a lovely name. I do appreciate you coming to give me this. And for everything else.” 

He lets go of the folder. He expected more. She might invite him in for a drink. He did lose a fucking arm so the ladies could keep their precious slippers and robes. And he came all the way down her to give her that lump of papers. 

“You have a good day, sir,” she slowly inches the door forward. 

Where are her goddamn manners? 

He slaps his hand against the door and she squeaks in fright. He keeps her from closing it in his face. He cleaned himself up nice for her, he sent her a letter. He’s sent her at least a hundred. He signed them all JBB. She knows him. 

So why is she trying to shut him out? 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stumble back as the man shoves the door out of your grasp. You gasp and the grip the script with both hands, like a shield. He steps inside calmly. 

“James,” you say his name, “what are you doing?” 

“The least you can do is ask me in, doll,” he snarls. The sudden shift in his demeanour fills you with dread. 

“No, James, I did not. You need to leave--” 

He swings the door shut and marches toward you. You raise the script and bring it forward, aiming it at him in a desperate attempt to fend him off. He knocks it away easily. He's strong. Still a soldier even in street clothes. 

“James,” you hold your palms up helplessly, “please, forgive me if I’ve--” 

“Shhhh,” he reaches between your hands and grabs you by the jaw. “I just... I want to... did you get my letters?” 

“Letters?” You gulp, writhing in his hold as you gently touch his forearm. “Well, James, I get many letters--” 

“I write to you every day,” he hisses. “It’s me. JBB.” 

“James,” you murmur. 

“Stop saying my name,” he sneers. 

You shut your mouth, your lip poking out as it trembles. You stare at him, petting his sleeve, hoping you can calm him. The war changed a lot of men. It stole a lot of them too. 

“I just... I love you, doll. You got me through. You kept me breathing,” he growls as he walks her backward. “I’m not gonna hurt ya.” 

You whimper, “why don’t you let me go and I’ll pour you a drink?” 

He stops and his brows pinch together. He looks to his left, where your liquor cabinet stands in the dining room. Where your phone is... 

“No,” his eyes flick back to you. “No, I don’t drink.” 

He pushes you until your heels meet the bottom stair. Your right slipper falls off and he tips you over the incline. You fall beneath him as he follows you down. You push on his chest and wriggle. 

He straddles you beneath him as he looks you up and down. His knees are on the step by your hips, his heels two down. You brace the sharp edge and whine. 

“James...” 

He hushes you as his thumb rubs beneath your cheekbone. He stares at your body, his chest rising and falling heavily. You push yourself down into the stairs. 

“Open your robe,” he demands. 

Your lip quivers violently as you bat back tears. You do as he says. You unknot the belt and slowly draw it open. You tug the satin apart and reveal your silky nightgown. The fabric cling to you like water. 

He shudders as his jaw squares. He bites his lip and shifts over you. He leans in slowly and your eyes meet as he gets closer. They are blue and deep like the ocean. You shiver as his nose touches yours. 

He exhales and brushes his lips against yours. 

“Show me the bedroom,” he growls.  

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

He lets her up cautiously. She steadies her feet and turns up the staircase. She limps up, click, clap, click, clap. He bends to pick up her slipper and follows. 

As she reaches the top, he stops her with her name. She pauses. He gets down and she doesn’t react until he shows her slipper. She puts her foot through. He stands and points her onward. 

He couldn’t climb to see through the bedroom window. He only ever saw the first floor. She hugs herself as her robe flutters around her figure. She opens the door at the end of the hall. She steps back to let him through and he tuts. 

He makes her go in first. She enters and sweeps around, far from him. He elbows the door shut. She cowers by the wall as he strides around.  

There’s a phone beside the bed. He grabs it and yanks it free of the cord. Her slippers suddenly click in a flurry. He drops the phone and catches her at the door. He crushes her against it so it snaps back into the frame. 

“Doll, don’t be doin’ all that,” he warns as he pinches her neck and urges her away from the door. She whimpers and he turns her to face the bed, “robe off.” 

He lets her go. She pulls away and drags his hands down her neck. She shyly pushes the robe from her shoulders and peels it off her body. The silk nightgown swathes her perfectly. Her shape is so full and soft. 

She drapes the robe over the bedpost and shies away. He clucks and snaps his fingers. 

“Doll,” he looks down at himself. He has the whole getup. Jacket, vest, tie, shirt. All for her. “Need your help.” 

She faces him. Her eyes glimmer like gems. She watches his hand smooth down his jacket and he unbuttons it. 

She nears him. She smells like vanilla. She brings her hands up. They shake. She must be excited. How could she not be? Finally, they’re together. 

He grabs his lapels and guides the jacket back. She’s tender with the folded sleeve and tickles his hemmed shirt beneath. She carries the jacket to the seat by her vanity and returns to him. He can see her pulse in her throat, it’s going just as fast as his. 

She unbuttons his vest and slips it off him. Her touch is soothing. Then she undoes his tie, her fingers brushing his throat. She unveils him, piece by piece, as his stomach clenches and unclenches. 

She stalls as she gets to his trousers. Her fingers twiddle just before the button. 

“It’s your first time,” he drawls. “Dont’ gotta be shy, doll.” 

She looks at him and swallows. She nods stiffly then puts her eyes down. The unplucks the front of his pants. He can make it nice for her. 

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

First time... 

Nope. You won’t say you haven’t made mistakes. Still, you won’t chance angering this man. Not more than you already have. You can keep up the act if it pays off. Not in money this time, no, your life. 

You stand back as he’s naked before you. Your wipe your damp palms on your nightie. He hangs his head. You can’t help but stare at his scars. The tortured flesh around his shoulder that extends onto his chest. Looks like a burn. 

His eyes startle you. You meet them. He steps closer. 

“Your turn,” he growls. 

You look down and reach for the thin lace straps of the night gown. You slide them down and shimmy the silken sheath down your figure. Your chest peeks over and he inhales audibly. As you push the fabric past your hips, he groans. 

Your eyes wander up for an instant. He's hard, bobbing shamelessly as he nears. All at once, he herding you back against the bed. You fall over the foot and bounce on the mattress. 

He crushes you. He kisses your lips then your cheek, smearing saliva across your face with his frantic hunger. You close your eyes and go rigid as you let him do what he pleases. 

His voice escapes him like silt. He nuzzles and nips along your throat. He shifts onto his side and feels up and down your torso. He fondles your tits and his mouth trails his touch. He seals his lips around your nipple, swirling his tongue around and around. 

He hooks his leg around yours. He pulls your thighs apart and his hand traces down your stomach and pelvis. He slips his middle finger between your lips and strums at your clit. You tense and twitch as your nerves stir. 

Your breath hitches as he rubs firmly. You turn your head and bite your knuckle as a moan escapes you. You arch your back as the sparks turn to a flame. You shake through your orgasm as he drags you through it. 

He pushes another finger between your folds. He rubs up and down, smearing your juices around as he hum. He lifts his head and nuzzles your cheek. 

“Kiss me, doll.” 

You pull your hand away and press your lips to his. His tongue delves into your mouth as his fingers slide into your cunt. He growls and smothers you as he rocks your pelvis. The heel of his hand rests against your clit and your toes curl as you writhe. You bend your legs as he lights another fire in you. 

He tilts his hips, rubbing his cock on your leg as he humps you in time with his fingers. Your walls squeeze and tremour and your climax again. You whine into his mouth and he drinks it in. 

He drags his fingers free and wipes your pleasure on your thighs. He parts from your mouth and heaves himself onto his knees. He kneels between your legs and traces the curves of your body with his hand. 

“Doll, please, you put me in,” he orders. “Be careful, don’t wanna hurt you.” 

You reach down without hesitation. You want this over with. You just hope he leaves after. 

You grab his cock and angle it down against your cunt. You flinch as his tip brushes your clit and you push him further back. You line him up with your entrance and he shakes. He grunts as he tenses and inches into you. 

He grits his teeth and exhales through his nose as he impales you. You constrict around him. He’s big enough to make your walls ache. He leans over you, planting his hand next to your head, and thrusts until he’s buried to his limit. 

You slap your palm against his chest and puff out through your locked jaw. You quake around him as he pulls back. His eyes fall to the crux of your bodies as he watches himself push into you again. You dig your nails into his skin. 

He snarls and bends his arm, holding himself on his elbow. He covers your mouth with his once more and rolls his hips. You whine and nearly gag around his tongue. He pumps again and again. You press against his sides as you squeeze him between your thighs. 

The bed shakes as his rhythm picks up. You push on his stomach and thigh, begging him silently to be nicer. He doesn’t heed your pleas. You give in to the ravaging of your body as he ruts wildly. You hook your hand around his bicep and clamp down to keep from biting his tongue. 

Just a bit more and it will end. Almost there. Almost free... right? 

[silentscrying]

🏀 buzzer beater | chapter FOUR.

nba!gojo x manager!reader

summary: you thought you'd gotten rid of arrogant NBA star satoru gojo when he left the curses after your first year in basketball management. but when your contract is up three years later, you find yourself working with him once again as the manager for the sorcerers. as you navigate playoff season alongside long-time friend ieiri shoko and the sorcerers' insufferable star player, you start to realize his sudden departure from the curses may not have been what it seemed, and maybe gojo isn't exactly the person (or player) you thought he was, either.

warnings: language, minor injury, anger/threats of violence. || sfw. 3.1k words.

YOU HAVEN’T BEEN in New York in a long while, it feels like, and walking through the busy streets you think you might’ve missed it. It reeks of weed and you’re met at every corner by someone trying to sell you hop-on hop-off bus tickets, but you welcome the familiarity of the big city chaos.

You’re not the only one, either.

“New Yoooork,” Gojo sings, flinging his arms out dramatically. “Concrete jungle wet dream tomaaaaatooo!” A few stares are tossed in his direction, but he’s also not the weirdest thing on the streets of New York. Across the way, there’s a man meditating on Razor scooter next to someone dressed as Spider-Man.

Megumi stares at Gojo, unimpressed. “Those aren’t the words.”

Gojo stops and spins to look at Megumi with his mouth agape. “You listen to Rihanna? I knew it!”

Two minutes later, Yuji has joined in, and it’s clear that they not only don’t know the real lyrics to the song, but they only know this one part. It’s going to haunt you at two in the morning when you’re trying to sleep. Nobara is recording them and as soon as Gojo notices, he somehow becomes ten times more obnoxious.

You’ve already settled in at the hotel, and now at Gojo’s insistence you’re out with half the team, searching for dinner.

“Jet lag is a state of mind!” he protested when Kusakabe said he was staying behind to sleep.

“It’s not jet lag, it’s indifference,” Kusakabe intoned in that dry, unaffected way of his, and then left Gojo complaining in the lobby.

You wind up at a pizza joint and get it to go, because even if New York is crawling with celebrities to start with, a bunch of NBA players during playoffs season is a little too much unwanted attention.

It’s cool for April in New York, and your long-sleeve black shirt is perfect as the skyscrapers and massive shopping centers block whatever breeze might be coming in from the ports. You told Ieiri you’d bring back food for her, and you’ve fallen back to walk with Nobara as the team paves the way through the Manhattan streets.

Nobara is awestruck by the city, has been since you could see it out the window of the jet, and you can’t help but smile as she looks around and takes photos of everything in sight.

“First time in New York?” you ask, and she nods eagerly.

“I’ve always wanted to come. I’m from kind of a small town, but I think I was meant to live somewhere like this.” You believe it—she seems so alive here, the electronic billboards and flashing lights gleaming in her eyes like sun rays on open water.

“Oh, wait ‘til you have actual New York pizza.” You nod toward the team up ahead, because you made them carry all the boxes. They eat like horses. Or pigs, or whatever animal consumes entire pizzas in a single sitting. Nobara grins. She reminds you a lot of yourself, in your first year, so enamored with the novelty of the NBA and the travel and the pace of life.

It’s exhausting, but you still love it.

You love it as Yuta holds the door for the whole team and then you and Nobara and then gets stuck holding it open for another crowd of people coming in behind. You love it as Ieiri grabs a box of pizza from Kento and proclaims she almost died of starvation. You love it as the whole team, coaches and all, crowds the floor’s common space and demolishes every pizza in the span of half an hour, and you love it as you’re sandwiched between Ieiri and Nobara with the guys sprawled on every surface they shouldn’t sit on.

At some point, Toge silently pulls your laptop and clipboard away and sets them pointedly on a table across the room. You protest, but he silences you with a look. Hard to argue with someone who won’t argue back. You suppose you can take a few hours off.

By ten, the guys have started throwing greasy napkin balls back and forth. “Can none of you go five seconds without playing basketball?” you ask, and in response Gojo lobs a napkin at you.

You catch it, and he yells, “That’s our star player! D1, baby!” The other guys whoop as you hurl the ball back at Gojo and hit him square in the face.

There’s a chorus of ooh and she got you and you gonna let that slide, Gojo? And then the room devolves into a full on war of paper napkins. Yaga grabs the pizza boxes before they can be weaponized and leaves the room, mumbling something about plausible deniability and damage charges that you should probably take to heart but don’t.

You’re ducked behind the couch, gathering napkin balls for ammo and lobbing them at whoever’s nearest, Ieiri and Nobara on either side of you. The guys have turned on one another, Gojo making a point to hit Megumi as many times as he can and Yuji heroically throwing himself in front to save him.

You feel a napkin hit you in the side of the head, and you gape as Ieiri grins at you with another napkin loaded in her hand.

“Betrayal,” you gasp, and stand up, pointing to Ieiri. “Betrayal from the inside!” Yuta obligingly starts pelting Ieiri with napkins. Junpei, the sweet thing, is underneath the pool table creating new ammo from a pile of unused napkins.

You’ll have to shut it down at some point, avoid the noise complaints and make the guys clean the space up and hit the sheets. You imagine explaining a loss to the Phantoms because of an all-night paper napkin war bender. But for now, you just let yourself go, and you don’t think about the paperwork or the phone calls or the tournament or the paycheck.

And you love it. You do.

—

It's always strange, playing in other stadiums, but really you’ve only just begun to think of Jujutsu Arena as home. Manhattan's stadium is around the same size, but its massive, curving architecture gives it an entirely different energy. The real truth of “home court advantage” is, you know, the fans.

The stands are flooded with blue and red, signs for players you don’t know. You feel a little out of your element in this new conference. A good number of tourists and dedicated Sorcerers fans have shown up as well, but they’re nowhere near the majority.

No matter. You’re confident in your team.

They start off strong, Ino in his element, nailing shots left and right and center. Kento’s going crazy on assists and Gojo and Megumi seem to be even more in sync than usual. Yuji, per usual, is having the time of his life.

Hakari and Toge sub in after first quarter, and Yuta and Junpei get their time too. Really, the Sorcerers are just toying with the Phantoms, who never stood a chance in the first place.

The only real issue is that the same player who had it out for Megumi in the last game is even more confident on his home court, and it’s making you nervous. His fouls are becoming more and more flagrant, and the ref’s not even calling him. Some prick named Hanami, with a massive stature and unnerving face tattoos.

You’re about to mention something to Ieiri when the man absolutely barrels into Megumi, and whether it was malicious or he simply lost control of his momentum doesn’t matter, because he hits the ground hard.

Your heart lurches in your chest. The stadium goes quiet, or as quiet as it ever is, the anxious murmurs of thousands of fans overlapping with the shouts of anxious teammates and the squeak of Ieiri’s shoes as she runs out onto the court.

It’s not like players never get knocked down. Sometimes they’ll even stay down for attention or to encourage the foul. But Megumi hates attention, and he hasn’t gotten back up.

He’s still on the floor, shaky hand gripping his head, and Yuji is there on his knees in an instant. Ieiri squats in front of him, talking low and urgent.

You yank off the headset as the Manhattan commentators start speculating—you don’t want to hear it. Megumi pushes himself up on an elbow, trying to wave Ieiri off, until Yuji says something that makes him listen to her.

But suddenly, that’s not where anyone’s attention is.

Gojo’s got Hanami’s jersey in his fist, and he’s up close and personal, yelling at him with a lethal grit in his tone. You feel the color drain from your face. Something in him has entirely shifted. There’s no trace of the silly, fun-loving Satoru Gojo now. He’s angry, and you’ve never seen his bright eyes so dark.

Whatever he’s saying to Hanami has started to sound almost manic, like there’s nothing Hanami would be able to say to talk Gojo down—not that he’d even be willing to try.

Should you do something? He can’t get kicked out now—if you lose both him and Fushiguro, you’re really not so sure about a sweep.

And Hanami isn’t having any of it, either. His massive hand is wrapped around Gojo’s forearm, and you can’t quite make out his words, but they certainly aren’t an invitation to dinner.

Suddenly Kento’s yanking Gojo back by the elbow and shoving him toward the sideline, saying something sharp and angry under his breath. Gojo doesn’t look at anyone as he stalks off the court with fists clenched, and Yaga is on him in a half-second.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing out there?” he barks. “You get your temper in check or you won’t see the court for the rest of the series. Take a walk, Gojo.”

You don’t need to look at the ref to know Gojo’s earned himself an ejection. He may not have thrown a punch, but one more second and he would have. The NBA is strict when it comes to violence. At least Hanami was fouled, though you doubt Megumi will be taking the free throw anytime soon.

Ieiri and Yuji get him on his feet and the crowd cheers, and you wish you could just tell them all to shut up. He clearly has a concussion, and the loud noise won’t help. But Megumi waves them off as Ieiri leads him back out of the gym to the training room for evaluation.

After review, Hanami isn’t ejected, and your fingernails dig into your palm hard enough to leave marks. There was no reason for him to go at Megumi that hard.

Gojo doesn’t come back. Yuji’s wringing his hands in an uncharacteristic show of anxiety, and the remainder of the quarter is played in a tense, unrelenting swarm of dunks and slightly-too-aggressive blocks. The Phantoms coach pulls Hanami shortly after the foul.

Christ.

You leave the gym before the half, making your way to a quiet back room to make a series of calls. You’re already getting swarmed on your work phone with questions about Fushiguro’s wellbeing, and soon Nobara’s joined you in the back room, undoubtedly experiencing the same thing.

After a few too many inquiries, you toss your phone on a table and head to check in with Ieiri. You can’t very well reply to questions you don’t know the answer to.

You catch her at the tail end of her standard concussion evaluation, and she has to argue with Megumi to keep him from going back out to the court. The only thing that gets through to him is her threatening to get Gojo. Not that Ieiri knows where Gojo even went, but the idea of it is enough to get Megumi to lie back down, grumbling.

She meets you just outside the door, looking exasperated. “That was fucking uncalled for. Ridiculous. Tell me he got fouled.” You nod, and she lets out a long breath. “Gojo?”

“Ejected. Probably in the locker room.” She sinks down the wall and groans dramatically, and you follow. “I get the feeling.” She yawns, and it makes you yawn too. “How bad?”

“Just grade one. He’ll be fine,” Ieiri says, and you feel the tension bleed from you in relief. “As long as he actually fucking rests. He’s so stubborn, it’s like Gojo.”

You snort. “He’ll listen to Yuji, at least.”

Ieiri eyes you for a moment. “Are they…?”

You shrug. “Hell if I know.”

Nobara appears a few minutes later, dropping your phone into your lap. “I should head back out,” she sighs. “Maybe if we flood all the social channels with three-pointers they’ll forget it ever happened.” You all know that’s not how it’s going to work, but it’s nice to imagine. “He’s okay?” Nobara asks. Ieiri briefs her on the concussion and Nobara sighs and nods before striding back in the direction of the gym.

You and Ieiri sit in a silent hallway for what feels like a long time. You track the score on your phone, and it’s not even close. According to Nobara, the rest of the team is taking this personally. No more playing around. They’re beating Manhattan into the floor, and Hanami hasn’t come back on.

“I’m gonna go find the problem child,” you say, and Ieiri cocks a brow at you. She knows who you mean.

“And you’re the best person for that?”

You shrug. “I’ve never seen him that… angry before,” you admit. “He looked like he could’ve killed that guy.”

Ieiri sighs. “Well, he did fuck with Fushiguro. And that’s the one thing you don’t do.”

You consider asking her what the hell that’s supposed to mean. And then you decide you’ll just make Gojo tell you.

You find him in the visitors’ locker room. You probably shouldn’t be in here, but the game is going on; nobody’s going to walk in until halftime.

He’s raking a hand through his hair, tense, stressed. Angry.

Worried.

His head snaps toward you in the doorway, and he immediately looks away, everything in him wired and on edge.

“He’s fine,” you promise. “It’s just a grade one. He’ll be good in a few days.”

He doesn’t respond. Instead he’s pacing, looking like he’s two seconds away from pounding a fist into the wall.

“Gojo.”

“Tell me he got ejected.”

You sigh, which is answer enough.

“Fuck!” He kicks the air, at a loss.

“Gojo.”

“What?” he snaps, and then he freezes. “Shit. Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

“It’s okay,” you say, and you’re moving forward without really thinking. “Hanami’s a dick and he’s awful and he should’ve been suspended. I get it. But shit’s not fair. Just win the next game and you don’t have to see him again.”

Gojo sinks down onto an empty bench, groaning. “He can’t just get away with that, did you see how hard Gu—Fushiguro went down?”

“Ieiri’s got him, Gojo, he’s okay.”

He shoots to his feet again, unable to sit still.

“I’ve never seen you this… mad,” you admit. He sighs deeply and crosses the room to you.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this. I just—god, I lost it, didn’t I?” His laugh is self-deprecating, void of any real humor. “He’s had it out for Megumi this whole series. I don’t know what the fuck his deal is.”

“His deal is Megumi is a better athlete than he’ll ever be, and he thinks he can compensate with dirty play.” You hesitate momentarily, but the curiosity wins out. “You’re protective of him. Like, very protective.” You clear your throat, stalling. “I know he’s your teammate, your friend, but that was…”

How do you say this? How do you ask what they are to each other? “He told me you knew each other before he was drafted. But you didn’t play in college together, right?” You know for a fact they didn’t. You know all of your players’ college records like the back of your hand.

“I—”

The buzzer blares through the locker room speakers, but you’d probably have heard it even without them—that and the resulting roar of sound from the gym down the hall.

“Shit,” you hiss, and retreat toward the door. He was going to tell you. You were so close. You slip out the door with the intent of checking in on Megumi. You can hear Gojo exiting the locker room behind you, probably waiting for Yaga to walk in and start yelling at him for his behavior.

When you look up at him, the tension hasn’t left his shoulders and his gaze is still far away, anxious and unfocused. You reach up and tug the headband down over his eyes again. He huffs a laugh before peeking out under it, holding it away from his eyes with one hand.

“Thanks, Alley.”

You smile, and he smiles back.

Only seconds later, Yuji comes skidding down the hallway and overshoots the door to the training room, catching himself on the doorframe just in time. “Megs?”

“Itadori, get your ass to the locker room!” Yaga shouts after him, but he’s already disappeared into the training room. Ieiri walks out shortly after, immediately clocking you and Gojo. And then the team filing into the locker room, and Kusakabe approaching Gojo with a scowl that you wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of.

Gojo glances toward the training room.

“Yuji’s got him,” Ieiri promises.

Kusakabe grabs Gojo by the back of his jersey and drags him into the locker room, already chewing him out for losing his temper. You sigh and let your head fall onto Ieiri’s shoulder.

Less than fifteen minutes and you’ll be back out on the court. You wonder if they’ll put Hanami back in. You hope they do, just so you can watch the team kick his ass.

Yuji slinks out of the training room a minute later, looking at you sheepishly before darting into the locker room. You hear Yaga shout something along the lines of about fucking time, Itadori and leave the team to their strategizing.

Hanami doesn’t come back on, and the rest of the game is a blur for you. It’s weird, watching the team play without Gojo, not even on the sidelines being obnoxious and making weird hand signals at his teammates. You’re back in the team area halfway through third quarter, taking more calls with Nobara, but you’re back in the gym in time to watch the Sorcerers finalize a 144-103 score.

You smile, but you don’t feel that thrum under your skin, the infectious enthusiasm. You have too many questions.

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@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 3

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,592

Warnings: light spanking in this one (I know, tomato tomato) lots of angst and fluffy stuff, mentioned familial death, cunnilingus, blowjobs, some talk of harder more BDSM type tingz hehehe

A/N: our dear reader was on her best behavior in this one so no real punishments … but we’ll see how long that lasts. 😏

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

He’d called this maintenance, but you’re not so sure that’s the right word for it. That sounds more … impartial than it really is. 

You’re a little too caught up in the buzzing high of a blissfully empty mind to parse it any further than that though, and you squeeze the back of the chaise lounge hard enough to make the polished wood creak under your fingers. 

“Thank you, sir.”

The responding crack of his palm across your bare ass makes you tip forward with a stilted little gasp, but there’s not really anywhere for you to go. 

Sprawled across the cushions at an angle, Wriothesley has you kneeling over his lap with your shuddering back facing out at the rest of the office. The power of his swing does not feel at all diminished like this, even though he’d called it maintenance and his intent was not to punish but to reinforce. It’s almost unsettling how adept he is at this oft times confusing game he’s coaxed you into being a willing participant of. The way he firmly corrects any unwanted behaviors with a hard, strict hand and then rewards the good with soft words, softer praise and the most mind numbing pleasure you’d ever experienced. 

In retrospect it probably shouldn’t have come as any great surprise that you would find yourself so easily pulled into his pace given the duke’s talents in this particular … pursuit. But it does still leave you reeling every time you think about how much you actually enjoy it. 

“Ooh … thank you, sir.” 

You seethe through your teeth, head hanging between your outstretched arms even as you timidly arch your back to better present your bottom to him. The hand he’s got anchored on your hip, that burly forearm curled around your front to prevent you from defensively hunching in on yourself and keeping you in position, gives you a tight squeeze of approval. It drags a little higher to trace the curve of your body and it leaves a tingling warmth behind in the wake of that stilted pass, making you whimper softly when he nudges just under the hem of your jumper. He doesn’t push any farther than that though. Just teases you with the suggestion, lets his heavy palm rest over the center of your fluttering stomach as if in a silent promise of more to come, when you were ready for it. 

It makes you feel ten times hotter than you already are, and you keen very softly into the static charged air. 

“You’re very welcome, little miss.” He murmurs to you, low and frustratingly unphased given your own jumbled up state. “Shall we go over everything again, or do you need a few more spanks on that cute bottom first?” 

You close your eyes, a stiff tremor working through you when his other hand — the one that’s been swatting your ass for the last some odd minutes — smooths over the curve of your sore behind to gently rub the hurt in. The skin feels flushed and tingly under his rough worn palm, calluses scraping against the lingering burn of his handprints, and you have to force yourself to draw a clipped breath to respond with. All you wanted to do was stay lost in that swimming daze of adrenaline and potent endorphins, but of course he always reels you back in before you can really sink, and you couldn’t quite decide if it was cruel of him or generous. 

“We will be going to a charity fundraiser together tomorrow night.” You finally manage to intone after gathering up enough of your fractured mind to think straight. It was so hard to do, but well worth it when you earn a savory, validating pinch on your thrumming behind. 

“Good. And in what capacity will we be going?” 

You hesitate only a moment. “Romantically, sir.” 

Drawing a slow, undeniably pleased breath, Wriothesley leans up to press his mouth to the small of your back, making you twitch at the intimate contact. “Thank you for doing me the honors, lovely girl. It will be the greatest pleasure of my life to have you on my arm.” 

“You exaggerate …” 

“I do no such thing.” The playful note in his voice brings fresh heat to your face but, luckily, he sits back to continue on with the review instead of pushing you on it. “When will you be ready for me?” 

“Six o’clock.” You huff. “On the dot. Just as his grace has instructed.” 

“And not a minute later. Because what’s going to happen if I come to pick you up and you’re not ready for me to spirit you away to a decadent hall full of stuffy aristocrats and over indulgent foods?” 

Your mouth slowly drops open but nothing immediately comes out. It takes you a beat or two to find your voice again. “… I’ll get a spanking.” 

Wriothesley hums a low sound of approval, giving your ass another savory squeeze. “And a very thorough one at that. Not like the one you’ve gotten today. I’m sure you know I won’t hesitate to take you right over my knee even in that pretty little dress I got for you.”

Pussy clenching tight, you fitfully rear back against his hand with a thin, choked off gasp. “Yes, sir.” 

“Excellent. You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” You feel him bend close to you again, and a surprised squeak punches out of your mouth when his lips press into the swell of your sore butt cheek. Eyes big as saucers, you twist your neck around to look back at him where he’s bent over your lower half without so much as an ounce of shame to show for it. 

Your stomach wrenches at the sight. Just the thought of having his face so close to the spot between your legs makes you feel indescribably dizzy and lightheaded, and you waver in uncertainty there on the cushions. 

“Y - your grace?” 

“There’s nothing to fret over, lovely girl. I’m still playing by your rules.” Giving the heated skin one more kiss, Wriothesley slowly sits back once again to look at you. “Although it’s certainly a test of my self control when I have you spread out over me like this I have no actual intentions of betraying your trust in me, little miss. You can rest assured of that. More importantly, however, we still have one more thing to cover. What’s going to happen after the fundraiser is over?” 

“I … I’m going to invite you back to my flat and have you over for tea.”

“Good. And what else?” 

Somehow this is infinitely more embarrassing than having his mouth so close to the intimate parts of your body, and your face feels like it’s on fire as you carefully turn your face to press your cheek against the back of the lounge. Shy, and hiding from him. “W - we are going to have a nice evening chatting and sharing each other's company, and — and I’m … his grace is going to teach me how to … how to pleasure him.” 

The last is little more than a mouse squeak, so small and faltering it hardly even registers in the air. But Wriothesley hums his approval as if you’d said it loud and clear, neither pushing you to repeat it nor giving you a hard time for your stammering hesitance. 

“What a good, good girl you are. Always so sweet for me.” He praises you, soft and quiet, yet the masculine edge behind the words just makes you flush hotter still. “I hope you know just how very proud I am of you. Such a precious thing you are … is little miss ready for her reward now?” 

The hand on your ass slides inward, dipping around the pudgy curve of your inner thigh to tentatively, tauntingly nudge against your cunt from behind. Every single muscle in your body instantly locks up even as you push back on him with a threadbare, deeply frazzled moan. You catch the sound of him chuckling at your reaction over the pounding in your ears, and you loose a mewling whine when he obliges you, firmly cupping you in his palm. 

Your hips stutter when he rubs you like that, and you quickly fall into the rhythm he sets for you. Rolling your pelvis in time with the press of his blocky fingers, you lean heavily into the back of the lounge and reach down to grab at the hand on your stomach. You hesitate to do it, shuddering and stiff, but you quickly find the courage to pull him up higher. Wriothesley lets you guide him wherever you want, wherever you're ready for him to touch you, and his rough skin leaves the prickle of fire in its wake as you tug him further up under your shirt.

You feel well and truly mindless with it by the time you finally get him directed up to your chest. He reaches higher of his own accord then, dragging you now where you’re still latched on to him, and closes his hand around the meaty swell of one breast. The almost direct contact seems to punch the air right out of your lungs, making you lurch and sway unsteadily on the couch, but he remains as steady as ever. Like an implacable wall of heavy muscle and stifling body heat beside you, he doesn’t even falter when he starts to fondle you through the lace cups of your bra. 

“You really love having your tits played with, don’t you?” He murmurs, directing blunt fingertips to the straining bud of your nipple so he can pluck at it. “Perhaps I should tell you a bit about what I would like to do to them someday soon, if you would permit me? I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to like what I have planned for you …” 

“Gods!” You hiss, your back bowing so hard under his ministrations that your spine aches in protest. Between his hands you felt like freshly wrought clay, so tender and vulnerable it was all you could do just to keep yourself in one piece. Swiveling your hips a little quicker, a bit more urgently, you carefully withdraw your hand from under your shirt so you can reach up and clutch at the back of the lounge in two death grips. It felt like the only thing that was going to keep you tethered to reality at this point. “Please tell me, your grace … I — I want to know … I want to hear it!”

Wriothesley leans in then, pressing his roguish mouth to your trembling shoulder in a fleetingly brief kiss before tipping his mouth towards your ear. “Then listen carefully, pretty girl. I’ll tell you as many times as you like, of course, but do try not to let your mind wander too much.” 

You squeak at the puff of hot air against your neck, the way his rumbling voice seems to penetrate straight into your brain to consume you, smother you, blanket you in the weight of what he’s saying to you. And your cunt positively slicks against his hand, coating him in sticky arousal that smears with each circling motion of your hips to make for a truly obscene glide against one another. 

“First, I think I’ll start by simply kneading them in my hands until you’re begging me for more. You always sound so pretty when you beg me for things … and having you ask me, nice and sweet, to play with your tits would be music to my ears indeed. I want to hear you say it, lovely girl. Hear you tell me exactly how much you want it.” 

You felt sick with want for it, but he keeps talking before you can form a semi coherent sentence on your heavy, lolling tongue. 

“Then I want to take my time just teasing your cute nipples until they’re so hard and stiff it hurts. You’ll really be begging me then, I’d imagine. So needy and worked up, but without anything you can do about it. You’ll be completely at my mercy, you know. In fact, I have half a mind to bind your wrists over your head just so I can enjoy you to my heart's content and all you’ll be able to do is take it. Would you enjoy that, sweetness? How does being helpless and spread out underneath me sound?” 

An uncontrollable, violent shudder tears through you so hard that your grinding hips come to a sudden halt. It doesn’t matter though. Even without you following the pace of his hand any longer, Wriothesley just keeps rubbing, rubbing, rubbing while the hand under your shirt offers your stiff teat a promising tug. 

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs, quiet and thin. Ever so slightly strained. “And once I’ve got your nipples so hard it makes your toes curl, I think I’ll take my mouth to them next. You’ll be quite sensitive by then, you know. I'm really looking forward to that, if I’m being honest … I wonder what kinds of pretty little sounds you’ll make while I’m sucking on your tits, hm? What do you think, lovely girl? What kind of sounds are you going to make for me?” 

You outright keen, high and faltering. You were tipping dangerously close to the edge now. If he would just rub you a bit quicker, a bit harder … “Y - your grace - -“

“Shh. I’ve got you. You’re almost there, aren’t you? I can feel your pussy tightening up on my hand and it feels so good, doesn’t it? Such an insatiable thing you are …” Pausing, Wriothesley draws a careful breath before continuing in an even more hushed voice that sounds like exquisite silk in your ringing ears. “I’ve mentioned this once before, but I have a few toys I’d like to introduce you to. Not right away, of course. I know how sensitive and easy to overwhelm you can be … but I also know what a sweet little masochist you are. I know you secretly like the pain, so I’m sure you’re going to like my toys. I have some mean little clamps that I know would look perfect on these gorgeous tits of yours.” 

He accompanies that with a tight squeeze on your breast, fingers digging mercilessly into soft flesh, and you start to tip. Your chest heaves with the weight of your impending release and it threatens to suffocate you, even as you helplessly rock between his hands with mindless, blubbering whimpers that seem to echo off the walls. You were going to cum. You were right there on the edge, you just needed that one last push. That final nudge to send you careening into a free fall. You needed — you needed - -

“I’m going to take a great deal of pleasure in clamping your nipples, little miss. I just know you’re going to shake and squeal for me. You’re soaking my hand just listening to me talk about it, imagine how good it’s going to feel when I actually do it. Are you looking forward to it as much as I am?” 

You obediently jerk your head in a frantic nod, struggling just to focus. “Y - yes, sir! I am!” 

“Would you like a little preview?” 

Eyes slipping shut in overwhelmed bliss, you eagerly arch your back to shove your chest further out. “Yes, sir! Please, sir!” 

“Hmm. I'm sure the real deal will be a bit different but,” Directing his fingers to your tightly coiled nipple, he closes them around the engorged bud to make your chest hitch. “It should feel something like this.” 

Wriothesley squeezes then, pinching down so hard your mouth flies open as if to scream but nothing comes out. Tears spring up in your eyes at the sharp jolt of pain that shoots through you, and the coil suddenly snaps. Lurching forward with a wounded, faltering sound of distress, you desperately clutch at the back of the couch while you mindlessly judder and buck through your orgasm like a wild creature in its death throes. It’s such an intense, all encompassing release that you almost don’t know what to do with it, and the way he continues to hold onto your throbbing teat even when you weakly jerk against the pain just seems to make it even more powerful. You feel it all in stunning high definition so exquisite it almost hurts to cum that hard. 

But, as always, you slowly start to come down from it some moments later and you finally slump there on your knees, gasping raggedly for air. He keeps up his pinching hold on your poor nipple for another moment longer until you eventually whimper and then he gradually lessens the pressure. The sharp, buzzing sting that rushes in to pierce the fog left behind after your climax has you hissing in discomfort, but he’s quick to tenderly caress the sore bud to work out some of the pain. 

“You really are a masochist of the highest order, aren’t you?” He murmurs fondly after a prolonged moment of quiet, once your breathing has started to even out. 

Shifting around gingerly, you turn your head to look at him through the heavy fall of your drooping lashes. “And you are the very definition of a sadist, my lord. I do believe I’ve heard tale of a marquis from long ago who shared similar interests as yours. You wouldn’t happen to be related to him, would you?” 

Chuckling, Wriothesley gives your still thrumming cunt a final pat of approval before withdrawing his hand from between your legs, bringing it up to squeeze around your waist instead. “I’m afraid not, but I’m sure we would have had a great many things to discuss with one another. That’s a pretty obscure reference, though. Are you more well versed in the depraved than I’ve given you credit for, little miss?” 

“N - no.” You quickly insist, shyly looking elsewhere now. “I’ve only heard this or that in passing, but I never paid it much attention. I had no idea I would one day be living that very nightmare out in the flesh!” 

“So dramatic.” He softly teases, a bemused look settling across his face as he carefully gathers you up so he can tug you over onto his lap. You whimper softly at the casual manhandling, and the flush quickly returns to your cheeks as he gets you settled on top of the hard press of his cock. Ignoring your squirming, he gets his arms wrapped around you so he can simply hold you against him even when you issue a low whine of protest. “Be still. I know you have a near limitless reserve of energy stored up in that small body of yours, but sometimes it’s nice just to sit, isn’t it?” 

You try not to pout, but you can’t quite seem to keep the whiny inflection out of your voice. “But you haven’t been tended to yet, your grace. It doesn’t seem fair to you …” 

“It’s not so much about being fair.” He says, perfectly amicable as he lifts a hand to toy idly with your hair. “If you want the truth, let’s just say I’ll make a bit more of a mess than you do and I don’t have much interest in cleaning up the evidence of our fun little activities. It will go away in time as it always does. Nothing to worry about. Besides,” Bending his head close, Wriothesley kisses the top of your head. “You will have your chance to tend to me as much as you want tomorrow night.” 

Listlessly, you reach up to tug at and fiddle with his loose tie. You were looking forward to the time you were to spend with him so much that you honestly wouldn’t have minded skipping the fundraiser altogether. “Must we go? The ball is only a formality, isn’t it?”  

He draws a slow breath that presses his broad chest up into you, lifting you slightly, and then lets it out on a terse exhale. “I’m afraid so, little miss. Rubbing elbows with the aristocracy isn’t exactly my idea of a good time either, but my presence would be sorely missed if I decided to skip out on it. You know how much they stand on pomp and expectation.” 

“But you are part of the aristocracy, your grace?” 

A beat of quiet passes over the office, heavy in its occupancy of something still left unsaid, but at length he just breathes out another clipped sigh. 

“Yes, I suppose I am.” 

Something niggles in the back of your mind, but you decide not to press him any further for the time being. The intimate, comfortable atmosphere inside his office was too sacred to disrupt with any more difficult conversations than what it had already seen play out between the two of you. You liked being here with him, snuggled up on his lap as you are, and you didn’t want to ruin it. A small part of you was even a little scared that you would ruin it, somehow, so you keep your thoughts to yourself. There was always tomorrow evening, when you were safely sequestered with him in the privacy of your own home to broach such topics. 

You wonder, distantly, if you’ll be brave enough to actually take the plunge. 

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

The dress Wriothesley had insisted on gifting you despite your protests on the matter is lovely, and it fits you like a glove. A dark, slinky maroon of lace and ruffles, sheer panels that flutter around your ankles like playful specters dancing endlessly, a tight boned-corset bodice and more ribbons than you conceivably knew what to do with. You’d thought it all rather much at first, but he’d assured you it was nothing compared to what some of the other ladies in attendance would be wearing. 

Much to your gobsmacked surprise, he was right. 

The hall he leads you into is full of lords and noblewomen dressed in all manner of costume, from the soft and demure to the frankly bizarre. Right off the bat you spot a woman with a small toy boat perched atop the complicated piles of her hair, the immaculately polished pearls dotted through her sinfully dark tresses giving the illusion of a ferry navigating the starry night sea. Somewhat self consciously, you reach up to touch your own hair, and Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh beside you. 

“Don't give it a second thought, pretty girl.” He tells you softly, the continuous din of partygoers and the playing orchestra set up along the far wall doing well to conceal his words from any nosy potential eavesdroppers. “You look lovely tonight, and much more appealing than anyone else here. In fact, I have a very strong urge to go find somewhere quiet just so I can ravage you in peace.” 

“Oh, stop that!” You hiss, sending him a heated look of warning to go with the tight squeeze you give his arm. “This is neither the time nor the place, your grace. Save it until afterwards!” 

“That is a very tall order you’re making me shoulder right now, my cruel love.” He sighs rather lamentably, putting on a convincingly put out tone. 

Your cheeks warm dizzingly fast at the first mention of that dreaded ‘L’ word, in jest or not, but on this you stand firm. “I’m serious, you insufferable scoundrel! If you humiliate me here tonight, I will never, ever forgive you for so long as I - -“

“Yes, yes. Your delicate sensibilities are in good hands, little miss. Nothing to fret over so much.” Wriothesley assures you, giving your tightly clenched hand a pat. “Now, where would you like to start your evening first? At the buffet table or shall we mingle a bit?” 

Nervously, you chew on your bottom lip as you glance around the room. You didn’t know anyone here besides him, and that knowledge has you clinging to his arm like a lost child. This was exactly why you’d been so hesitant to accept his invitation and he’d had to patiently talk you into it over many, many hours spent in his office. Even putting aside the fact you hadn’t had anything to wear, facilitating the excuse need for him to buy you a dress for the occasion, you were still just a lowly civil servant at best. You didn’t really belong here, did you? 

“You have nothing to be scared of, sweet girl.” Wriothesley tells you after a long stretch when you neither move nor speak. “I’ll be right beside you the whole time, and I won’t let you out of my sight for so much as a moment. If any of these other ladies here try to accost you, I’ll come straight to your rescue.” 

“Thank you, your grace, but that’s - -“ You cut yourself off with a painfully sharp intake of air, frantically clutching at his arm with both hands now. 

“And what’s suddenly got you so worked up?” 

“T - that’s the honorary Iudex himself standing over there! I don’t even believe it …” 

Chuckling now, he follows your line of sight across the room. “Is this your first time meeting him? Shall I introduce you?” 

You tip your face up at him with widened eyes. “Are you really on such familiar terms with monsieur Neuvillette that you can just … just — walk up to him and say hi?” 

“Mm, something like that.” He concedes, tugging you into motion even though you’re a veritable mess of nerves and would much rather dig your heels in. “I do share a history with him and we’re on friendly speaking terms, but I wouldn’t say we’re particularly close or anything. I can tell you more about it later, if you’re interested. For now though I just want you to make sure you give him that pretty smile of yours, okay?” 

Fluster creeps up your neck at an alarming rate, thoroughly disarming you to the point that you indeed find yourself smiling like a blithe idiot when he pulls you right up to the Chief Justice of Fontaine without so much as a polite pause of hesitation. The tall man turns at your approach with an almost otherworldly grace, disengaging completely from the man he’d been speaking to when he sees who it is. 

“Ah, mister Wriothesley. So good to see you, and your …” He trails off, gaze drifting to where you’re latched onto the duke’s arm. “Lovely companion for the evening?” 

Greeting him with his usual idle amiability, Wriothesley introduces you accordingly and you quickly bob a nervous curtsy. “It is an honor to meet you, your … honor.” 

Your cheeks positively burn at the way Wriothesley laughs but monsieur Neuvillette only graces you with a small, infinitely kind smile. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. I don’t believe we’ve ever properly met before but I’m quite certain I’ve seen you fluttering about the Palais Mermonia from time to time. Do you work there?” 

“In some capacity,” You stammer out, briefly explaining what you do and how you’ve been working with the Duke of Meropide recently to implement certain beneficial changes to the lives of the inmates there. It’s so subtle you almost miss it entirely, but something flashes behind those peculiar lilac irises at that and you have no idea what to make of it. Before you can even begin to pick it apart to find the meaning, however, Wriothesley has changed the subject to more present matters concerning the fundraiser. 

“I thought she would enjoy getting to see how these sorts of things work when it comes to securing sponsors and benefactors for funding bigger campaigns, since she’s so passionate about helping people.” He tells Neuvillette, unexpectedly sincere. 

You’re so flattered by what he’s saying, his estimation of you, that your heart gives a warm, heavy little thump inside your chest. Unfortunately he keeps talking and quickly ruins the moment. 

“And of course I was more than happy to show off my lady to a bunch of stuffy tight-collars.” 

Neuvillette’s brows slowly lift. “Oh.” 

Beyond horrified at what he’s saying, you fiercely jerk on his arm with a scathing hiss. “What is the matter with you? You’re speaking to the honorary Iudex, you baboon!” 

Politely, Neuvillette clears his throat to bring your wide eyed attention back around before he can tease you any further. “Please don’t concern yourself with it, mademoiselle. I do not mind. I am … familiar enough with the way mister Wriothesley here speaks, and I do not take offense to it.”

You sag in visible relief against your damnable beau, but before you’re able to thank him for his generosity a sudden commotion on the other side of the room has you craning your neck to find out what’s going on. What you see very nearly has your legs giving out right from under you though, and you sway unsteadily as if on the verge of fainting. “That’s … that's Lady Furina!” 

You could hardly even believe your own eyes. Was this really the type of crowd Wriothesley had access to? Oh, you were just feeling more and more like you were in over your head with this. 

“It would be my pleasure to introduce you, if you’d like.” Neuvillette says, carefully watching your reaction. “I’m sure she would like you, and you her. Lady Furina enjoys making new friends, from time to time, when she has the opportunity to do so.” 

Friends? With the Hydro Archon herself? How in the world were you possibly supposed to rationalize that in your head! 

“Don’t be nervous.” Wriothesley assures you for what feels like the hundredth time this evening, giving your achingly stiff knuckles an affectionate squeeze. “She’s a bit out there at times, but nice enough. I think she’ll like you too.” 

“O - okay …” 

And so it goes. Over the course of the evening you’re introduced to seemingly everyone of any power or influence in Fontaine; from the noble lords and ladies who were born into their roles and liked to dally with different causes to pass their time right down to the self made entrepreneurs who fancied themselves humanitarians, and Lady Furina does indeed end up liking you. She likes you well enough, in fact, to invite you to sit at her table when dinner is eventually served, and that is precisely how you find yourself seated between her and Wriothesley after a few hours of casual snacking and mingling. 

He’d been right to say she was a bit out there and you occasionally struggle to keep up with what she’s saying but you decidedly enjoyed her exuberance, as well as her magnetic charm and charisma. She was fun, and it doesn’t take long for you to wind up engrossed in conversation with her. 

“That’s very interesting, you know.” She tells you candidly, leaning close over the arm of her chair with an excitability that’s oddly infectious. “I had no idea that there was such a thing catching on in Fontaine.”

“I’m sure it’s difficult to stay on top of fads in your position, Lady Furina, so I wouldn’t be too concerned about it. You’re busy enough as it is without having to worry about keeping up with trends on top of everything else.”

She flutteringly waves that away. “Yes, but it is also my job to stay at the forefront of what’s in style and in vogue at any given time, and I fear I may have let my adoring audience down in this. Unfortunately I don’t have any dogs to dress up though …” 

You steal a surreptitious glance over at Wriothesley in his nice black suit, but he’s a bit to engrossed in the conversation he’s having with the gentleman on his other side — something about boxing, given the snippets you’re able to catch — to notice and you quickly swing your eyes back around before anyone catches on. 

“Would you like to have one, Lady Furina?” 

She thinks about that for a moment. “I’m more partial to cats, I think, but … perhaps it would be fun to have one. A small dog that I can pamper and carry around in my arms.” Eagerly, she focuses back in on you. “And you, my darling peach?” 

It takes everything you have not to glance over at Wriothesley again. “I believe I prefer the big ones.”

“Oh? That seems like it would be an awful lot of work though.” 

“I wouldn’t mind it too much. It might be worth the trouble.” 

“Well,” She says with a certain note of finality. “I admit you’ve certainly piqued this one’s curiosity, and I do so enjoy your company. Shall we make a day of it then? Would you like to accompany me to these boutiques you speak of?” 

Your mouth opens to respond but nothing comes out. She wanted to spend time with you in a casual setting? As casual as it could possibly be, given her celebrity status in the court, of course, but … still. You were more than just a little dumbfounded by this turn of events. 

“I'd like that very much, Lady Furina.” You finally manage to say around the rock wedged in your throat. “You would do me a great honor, and I’ve enjoyed your company as well.” 

“Oh! Yay, I’m so excited!” She surprises you by reaching across to take your hands in hers, clasping them between the two of you over the table. “I just know we’ll have a great time together, and perhaps we could even stop somewhere afterward and have some cake? Oh, it could be just like our own little tea party! You do like cake don’t you?” 

“I do.” You tell her with a smile. “And I like tea, as well. The duke here has thoroughly seen to that.” 

Noising a curious sound, Furina’s pretty mismatched eyes flit over your shoulder to regard the man sitting beside you. Still engrossed in his conversation, you hoped. 

“On the topic,” She says, dropping into a conspiratorial half-whisper. “I do find myself wondering … May I ask what your relationship is, exactly? 

On the other side of her Neuvillette’s cutlery loudly rattles against his plate. “Lady Furina!” 

Jolting in surprise, she lets you go and snaps upright to sit primly in her seat. “What! I was only asking a question!” 

“Perhaps, but even as the Archon — no, precisely because you are the Archon, you should know better than to ask something so impolite and lacking in tact.” 

Looking appropriately chastised, she crosses her arms in a sulk and Neuvillette turns his attention to you with a small, apologetic smile. How very odd … 

“My sincerest apologies, mademoiselle. Lady Furina has an unfortunate habit of forgetting herself sometimes, but I assure you she meant no harm and you are under no obligation to discuss anything you are not comfortable with. If you two are to be friends, then you’re well within your right to tell her it’s not any of her business.” 

Furina shoots him a silent, wide eyed look that seems strangely familiar to you — and then it hits you. It was like looking from the outside in on one of your exchanges with Wriothesley, and your brows take a very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Please think nothing of it, monsieur Neuvillette …” 

Evidently satisfied, he returns to his plate and you just sit there in dumbfounded silence for a long, drawn out moment trying to make sense of it. Unfortunately you’re not given much of a chance, however, and you stiffen when Wriothesley’s closest hand finds your knee under the table. Trying very hard to keep your startled gaze on your own plate, you reach down off the napkin in your lap to grab his blocky knuckles in a tight, squeezing hold. It’s meant to be a warning for him to behave, for him to stop and return to his own space while there are so many people sitting around the two of you like this, but of course he doesn’t take heed. 

Giving your knee a brief squeeze back, that broad hand tauntingly drags a little higher to brush against your inner thigh and — 

“Your grace!” You squawk, a little louder than intended, and your cheeks positively burn when he turns to look at you as if only just noticing you there. 

“Oh, have you finally remembered that I accompanied you this evening? It looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Lady Furina very much, and I didn’t want to interrupt.” 

Forcing your lungs to draw a slow breath and calm yourself first, you pin him with the most pleasant smile you’re currently able to muster. “You are much too kind, your grace. Always so thoughtful and considerate of others.” Underneath the table, you make a valiant effort to pry his fingers off your leg but the damned brute won’t budge. “Of course I would never forget you. Somehow I very much doubt you would ever permit me to.” 

He smiles at you, altogether innocent and polite, but you don’t miss the sly flash of mischief in his eyes. Not by a long shot. “That’s very kind of you to say, miss. I’m sure you know I feel the same way about you too.” 

You give a little jerk and freeze when you realize you’ve walked straight into an insidiously laid trap. Right in front of all these people you’d just said - - 

“Oh, you are such a funny man, your grace!” You blurt, desperately trying to backtrack now when you could feel everyone seated at the table curiously looking over even though they try very hard to hide it. “You’re so good at telling jokes, I really don’t think I can get enough of them! You simply must tell me where you manage to come up with these things!” 

“You flatter me, miss, but I assure you I’m being quite sincere. You will forever remain at the very forefront of my mind for as long as I may be lucky enough to live.” 

You just stare at him for a drawn out beat, trying and failing to figure out what to say to that. Never mind that he was making it impossible for you to pretend like you were anything but involved with each other, was he saying what you thought he was? 

“Y - your grace,” You finally manage to choke out, though it’s barely more than a whisper. “Although I do appreciate the sentiment, is this really the appropriate time and place to be having this conversation?” 

“You’re right.” He immediately relents, further startling your already reeling mind. “I must have gotten carried away. Will you forgive me?” 

“… yes?” 

Wriothesley gives your inner thigh a playful pinch before retracting his hand back over to his side and you just sit there, staring at him like he’s sprouted two extra heads. Of course you’d known he was rascally and unapologetic to the nth degree, but you’d thought him to have more sense than that! 

When you hesitantly turn your head to glance over at Lady Furina, half expecting her to be looking at you in furious indignation, you’re more than a little surprised to find her eyes glistening in what could only be deeply moved emotion. All at once you realize that there was nothing else you could do about it after that blatant display. So much for Neuvillette’s suggestion that you tell her to mind her own business. 

It was obvious why he’d done that. To nudge you into taking a scary leap that you otherwise would have avoided at all costs but, much to your relief, you soon come to find it’s not so bad to talk about it with her. Lady Furina seems to hang off your every word while you briefly (very briefly, when you left out the more harrowing details) explain how the two of you had come to know one another, and she outright coos in soft delight when you tell her you were still early into your relationship. You’re very glad to be able to use that as a convenient excuse for your initial hesitancy to discuss it, and she doesn’t appear to mind it at all. You even notice monsieur Neuvillette listening in with a certain amount of interest but that doesn’t embarrass you half as much as you would have expected it to. 

The night drags on in this manner, primarily with Furina accosting you from Wriothesley’s side so she can lead you around the room by your entwined arms, tittering amongst yourselves like schoolgirls while she proudly shows off her new friend to everyone who will look. You find it a little odd for her to be so very pleased over something so benign, but you don’t really mind it too much. She’s very sweet to you, and even takes you around introducing you to a handful of wealthy entrepreneurs who show a great deal of interest in sponsoring your programs at the prison when Lady Furina endorses your work to them. It was an altogether lovely, even magical experience and you were so glad for it that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be mad at Wriothesley for that blockheaded stunt he’d pulled. 

He was certainly a massive pain in your ass, in more ways than one, but he was very kind to you. Enchanting, even. 

By the time the party starts to wind down late into the night, you’re quite glad for it when Wriothesley comes to extricate you from Furina’s clutches so you can go home and take these blasted shoes off. You’d spent perhaps a bit too much time pacing the room with her, and she makes you promise to write her soon even as she reluctantly gives you up to the duke. You’re almost to the front door with him, seriously considering asking for him to carry you and knowing he would, when monsieur Neuvillette calls out behind you for you to wait. 

Pausing together, you and Wriothesley turn at the honorary Iudex’s approach. 

“Apologies for stopping you on your way out,” He says, as polite and cordial as ever. “I thought perhaps we could chat a bit more without quite so many distractions around. I’ll be headed in the same direction as you for half of the way, if you’d be kind enough to allow me to walk with you?” 

You know by distractions he means Furina and you wonder at that, still not quite sure what to make of their relationship, but you give Wriothesley a quick nod when he glances down at you. 

“Sure thing, monsieur Neuvillette. We can always flag down a carriage after we go our separate ways.” 

“Excellent. Thank you for your generosity, mister Wriothesley.” He seems quite pleased, and you wonder at that as well as the three of you make your way out onto the boulevard. 

The two of them occupy the first few minutes with casual matters, such as recent happenings in the social justice sphere, general talk of news from around Teyvat and even a brief mention of something going on in the far distant land of Inazuma where talks of a civil war were brewing. Inevitably, though, Neuvillette’s attention finally wanders over to you, and you don’t even have the grace to act surprised when you’d been half expecting it. 

“By the way, mademoiselle,” He says rather attentively. “I meant to tell you that I think it’s a wonderful thing to see so much energy and passion for the vulnerable demographic of prisoners who are more often than not shunned by the greater part of society. It might be a bit strange for me to say so, given my role in their fates, but I believe it speaks a great deal to your character for you to have so much concern for them.” 

Wriothesley gives your hand a brief, lingering squeeze where he’s holding it between the two of you. Whether he meant it that way or not, you find yourself remembering the hard learned lesson he’d taught you about graciously accepting what you’re given, and you smile up at the Chief Justice somewhat bashfully. 

“Thank you, your honor. You flatter me.” 

He inquisitively tips his head to one side, looking at you with a certain amount of interest now. “I only speak the truth, and you are very welcome. May I ask, though, why you do it? I can only imagine there must be some reason for you to choose this cause instead of any other.” 

Your steps falter in your surprise and a dull chill rushes over you. Stamping down the urge to defensively pull away from him, you swivel your head around to look up at Wriothesley. “I … I haven’t even told you that yet, have I?” 

Something unreadable passes across his face, and he gives your hand another tight squeeze. But this time he doesn’t stop squeezing it. “It’s alright. I figured you would when you were ready. If you want to tell monsieur Neuvillette now, I won’t take any offense.” 

You still hesitate a moment, feeling more than just a little bad about not telling him sooner. But in terms of dependability, you’d come to realize that Wriothesley always meant what he said. Even if what he was saying was so indirect and confounding that you sometimes couldn’t make any sense of it, so you trusted that it really wouldn’t cause any bad blood between you two. You’d have to make sure to apologize later, though. 

Cautiously, you turn your face up to Neuvillette again. “I don’t know if this is the answer you were expecting, your honor, but … my father was an inmate at Meropide a long time ago.” 

Neuvillette doesn’t so much as blink at that information. But Wriothesley, on the other hand, gives a mild jolt that you feel run up his arm, and you gasp when he suddenly yanks you around to look at him, stopping right there in the middle of the street. 

Eyes going big, you tip your head all the way back to take in his shuttered but clearly confused expression. “What?” You yelp when he doesn’t say anything, just silently looming over you like that while monsieur Neuvillette watches on. “It was a long time ago, like I said, and I’m not mad about it anymore. You don’t have to worry about a conflict of interest on my part, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Wriothesley huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “That is hardly the most pressing concern on my mind right now.” 

“Wha - -“

“Mademoiselle,” Neuvillette ventures softly, prompting you to warily drag your attention away from Wriothesley so you can look up at him again. “Will you tell us the rest of your story? There is more, I presume.” 

“Uh,” You surreptitiously glance between the two men, not sure what to make of this unexpectedly tense atmosphere. “Sure, I guess, but I don’t really know if I want to continue if it’s going to make the both of you mad.” 

Gently tugging on your hand, Wriothesley brings you back around to him, and you think your neck is going to get a cramp if they kept this up much longer. “No one is mad at you, miss. Least of all me. I’m just surprised, is all … but I want to hear the rest as well.” 

Drawing a deep breath to steady your nerves, you let it back out in a rush. “He was arrested for bribery and sentenced to ten years in prison. I was five at the time, so I was just old enough to somewhat understand that he’d been taken away and wouldn’t be coming back for a long time. It made me mad at first because it was just me and my mother, and she struggled to take care of me by herself. We were … we were never very well off and I think that’s why he did it. To try and get a leg up so he could take care of us better. I don’t condone it,” You emphasize with a quick glance in Neuvillette’s direction. “But I can sort of understand it, you know? Anyway, as time went on, I stopped being mad about it and instead I started to look forward to him coming home when his sentence was almost up.” 

You trail off, suddenly feeling uncertain about relaying the rest, but Wriothesley reaches out to take your other hand as well, holding them both now. “I heard a ‘but’ in there. Take your time if you need to, but please continue.” 

Floundering — and very embarrassed to be doing this in front of the honorary Iudex of all people — you shyly glance down at your shoes. Oh, how you couldn’t wait to get them off. 

“W - well … there’s not really much else to say, if I’m being honest. He never came home. My father decided to stay in Meropide instead, and he died a few years later right after I turned nineteen. They said it was a fight that got out of hand. Someone had a weapon they’d made, and they stabbed him with it. The other inmate insisted it was just an accident though. Said he hadn’t meant to hurt him like that, and I believe him. Soooo … here I am now. But like I said, no hard feelings or anything. Stuff just happens sometimes.” 

Wriothesley starts to say something, hesitates, and then draws a quick breath but it is monsieur Neuvillette who speaks first. 

“I see. I was worried it would be something like that.” 

Blinking owlishly, you turn your head to look over at him just as the first rain droplets start to come down. They’re fat and heavy, and incredibly cold, making your skin break out in clammy goosebumps almost instantly, but you can’t quite seem to tear your eyes away from Neuvillette. His expression hasn’t exactly changed in any noticeable way but something about him just looks so very … sad it wrenches at your poor heart. 

“What do you mean, monsieur?” 

“I seem to recall, now that I think of it,” He says evenly, not at all concerned about the rain quickly soaking through his hair to make it stick to his face in a few spots. “A man by the name of Antoine. He had a young wife who took the stand during his trial. She begged for leniency for her husband, citing the daughter waiting for him at home, but I unfortunately had none to give. That was your father, wasn’t it?” 

Numbly, you nod your head. “I’m surprised you remember something from so long ago…” 

Slowly, Neuvillette draws a careful breath before continuing. “The law is quite clear, mademoiselle. Although it pained me a great deal to do it, I had to deliver a just and appropriate ruling for the crime committed. This may not mean much to you, but I am sorry for taking your father from you. As for the matter of him choosing to stay at the fortress even after his sentence was served … I apologize for that too.” 

“It’s alright. That wasn’t your fault and there wasn’t anything you could have done about it anyway. You were just doing your job, monsieur Neuvillette. I don’t blame you for that.” You try to offer him a reassuring smile, but that shroud of sadness around him does not dissipate. In fact, it actually seems to become more pronounced. 

“Thank you for your kindness, mademoiselle.” He says over the rain as it picks up and really starts to hammer down on the three of you. “I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I will cherish it always. Regrettably I have just recalled that there is something I’ve forgotten to take care of for Lady Furina, so I am afraid I must take my leave and return to her now. I do hope you both have a pleasant evening though.” 

“O - okay …” You murmur, wondering if you’ve done something wrong as you watch him turn and walk away to leave you and Wriothesley standing there in the sudden downpour. 

Hesitantly, you tip your head back to share a long look with him. 

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

“Gods, I’m drenched right through!” You hiss, ripping off your soaked, elbow length gloves so you can viscously slap them down on the table with a loud wet plap! You felt like a drowned rat and you probably look it too as you turn to face Wriothesley where he’s peeling off his coat in the doorway. “Was it even supposed to rain tonight?” 

“You know how unpredictable the weather can be here,” He murmurs, hanging up his dripping jacket on the metal rack in the corner before moving across the room to close the distance. Your heart gives a startled jolt at his purposeful strides, but all he does is reach out to take your hips and pull you in against him, unconcerned with the soft wet squelch that sounds between the two of you. “Are you sure you’re alright?” 

“I - I’m fine. I already told you that, didn’t I?” You squeak, carefully bringing your hands up to brace them on his front. He was acting so strange, and you honestly couldn’t tell if he was upset with you or not. “What has gotten into you? I’m not used to you treating me like fragile glass that will shatter at the first upset. Really, your grace, you’re blowing this just a bit out of proportion.” 

“I think you are the very last person I ever want to hear that from.” He rumbles, dragging his hands higher to cradle around your ribs. Just holding you, letting the warmth of him bleed through your soaked clothes for a long moment until you eventually shiver at the cold. Sighing softly, he begins to rub over you as if to warm you up. “If you’re positive then I won’t press the matter any further, but I hope you know how much of a surprise you gave me back there. For a moment I thought … I actually thought I had your father imprisoned in my fortress right this very moment.” 

You smile to yourself, unable to stop it. “Would you have let him out for me?” 

He snorts a quiet laugh in response, putting you somewhat more at ease. “I think that would’ve been pushing it just a little bit, don’t you?” 

“Yes, your grace. Even if he was still there I wouldn’t expect any special privileges just because you and I are … well, I suppose we might as well already be married as far as everyone sitting at our table is concerned. Did you see the way they kept looking at us?” 

“I did, and I think you handled it all with grace and poise, just like I knew you would.” 

A heavy, long suffering sigh. “You are the biggest scoundrel I’ve ever known.” 

“If you keep up with that talk of marriage, I’ll soon be the only scoundrel you know.” 

Clicking your tongue, more embarrassed than annoyed, you start to pull away, but Wriothesley just gathers you more firmly against his front. With hardly any effort at all to show for it, he abruptly picks you straight up off the floor so he can make his way over to the bathroom with you, shouldering the door open even as you weakly protest to being carried around like an invalid. Soundly ignoring you, he sets you down on your feet again and then moves to find the matchsticks so he can light the candles in the room. You huff and watch him do it, trying and failing to stamp down the excitement suddenly bubbling to life low in your gut. 

Oh, this was … 

Dutifully, Wriothesley steps over to the tub once the bathroom is aglow with a soft, flickering light, and he bends to put the stopper in place. The sound of rushing water soon dominates the cramped space when he turns the faucet on and, finally, he turns to you once again. 

“We don’t want you catching cold.” He says by way of explanation at your curious look, reaching around behind you to fiddle with the zipper on your dress. 

“No, I suppose we don’t.” 

He gives you a certain look that makes your toes curl in their much too uncomfortable shoes as the dainty zipper descends but, to your surprise, he promptly starts to pull away. 

“Take your time and get comfortable, little miss. I’ll dry off in the other room and - -“ 

Cutting off when you snag his sleeve, Wriothesley tips his head down to look at where you’re holding onto him. There’s a question in his eyes when he brings his attention back up, and you forcibly swallow down your nerves before they can get the better of you. “You can stay. If you’d like.” 

A quiet moment passes over the room. He just studies you in that time, making you feel more and more jittery inside, before eventually drawing a carefully measured breath. “Would you like me to sit and watch you bathe, pretty girl?” 

“I thought perhaps you could join me.” 

You’d half expected him to be excited about that offer, but the bemused look he gives you is more teasing than happy. “You know I’ll have to get undressed for that, don’t you? Or would you have me sit in your tub with you fully clothed?” 

You almost snap at him to forget about the whole thing then, but you quickly rein your emotions back under control. His patience with you thus far has been perfectly commendable. Nothing short of astonishing, in fact, even when you’d desperately clung to what little bit of modesty you still had to your name for weeks now. It was understandable then that he wouldn’t assume you to be ready to cross so many boundaries all at once in one night. You naked, him naked … even when you’d discussed the matter of wanting to tend to him, he’d assured you that over his clothes would be fine so this was quite a big step beyond that. 

Resolutely, you square your shoulders. “I would never expect you to do something so silly and I know what it is I’m asking for, your grace.” 

The mischief fades from his face, and he looks at you quite seriously now. “You’re certain?” 

“Yes, Wriothesley, I’m not sure how many times you expect me to say it but - -“ 

He grabs your face between his hands and suddenly tugs you up into a possessive kiss, making you squawk against his mouth in your surprise. You hadn’t expected such a reaction out of him given his initial response, but it only lasts a short moment before he’s pulling back to look at your wide eyed expression. 

“If you change your mind at any point just say the word and I’ll get out immediately. I’m sure you understand this, precious girl, but I want to make sure you know that this is not your last chance to tell me ‘no’. You’ll always have that power over me no matter what we do together, and you only need to tell me once for me to listen. Are we on the same page here?” 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur, smiling up at him now. 

He smiles too, leaning down to kiss you again before decisively setting in to work on disrobing you. It takes some shimmying to get the wet fabric of your dress peeled off over your head when the sleeves and bodice wanted to stick, but it eventually lands in the corner with a resounding wet plap! At your weak protest he assures you he’ll just buy you another, and then his hands are working on the clasps of your brassier. 

Wriothesley is surprisingly gentle with the delicate hooks, something that you hadn’t exactly expected when you’d never let him relieve you of that particular item before, but it fills you with a great deal of soft warmth for him. Reaching up, you also get to work on unbuttoning his waistcoat, and by the time you have it hanging loose around him he’s tugging the bra straps down your arms. 

You tense up slightly, hesitating for just a heartbeat before allowing him to pull it off of you. Your nipples are stiff and cold from the rain, jutting out in attention seeking points, and he softly growls at the sight of them. As he brings his hands up to palm them, you start to wonder if you’ll even make it into the tub at this rate. You already felt so hot … 

Your eyes go big in sudden horror. “The water!” 

Snapping out of his trance, Wriothesley twists around to smack the faucet off and you force your lungs to expand with the now steamy air in the resounding quiet. All you can make out is the soft flicker of the candles, and your own wild pulse pounding in your ears. 

“We almost got distracted there, didn’t we?” He says after a pause. 

“Yes, your grace. My apologies.” 

He turns back to you, tugging roughly at the tie around his neck. “What do you have to apologize for? We would have just cleaned up the mess when we were done … though I suppose the whole flat would’ve been flooded by the time I’m done with you.” 

You impotently shudder at the jolt of arousal that tears through you. This man was certainly crass. “You are truly hopeless, sir …” 

“Only where you’re involved.” Wriothesley sends you a meaningful look across the short distance, smiling when you react with fluster. He quickly yanks his tie off over his head and then shrugs out of his waistcoat, eyeing you rather covetously while he does it. “You look beautiful standing there like that, by the way. Your tits are even prettier than I imagined them to be.” 

“O - oh,” You quake from head to toe, and shyly bring your hands up to cover yourself. He’s on you in the time it takes you to blink, however, and you outright yelp when he grabs around your middle so he can haul you up off the floor again. Your head spins with the sudden rush of movement but he just neatly deposits you into the stool in the corner you used for easy access to your drying racks. You barely have enough of a chance to process what’s even happening when you suddenly find Wriothesley kneeling at your feet, and your heart jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

All he does is reach out to fiddle with the buckles on one of your shoes though, bending his head over the task, and you somehow manage to breathe a stilted sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, your grace …” You murmur softly into the stillness, watching him patiently work with the delicate straps. “You didn’t have to do that though.” 

“You’re lucky I didn’t do it sooner. I noticed the way you were walking earlier … like you were stepping down on needles, but I figured you wouldn’t appreciate me starting to disrobe you in public.” A brief, mischievous look accompanies that and you just flush even hotter. “If these hurt your feet then you should toss them. I’ll buy you new ones that are much more comfortable.” 

“You’re offering to buy me an awful lot tonight …” 

“Only because you deserve to have nice things.” He tells you, perfectly sincere in that assertion, as your shoe finally comes off. A low hiss rises in you at the immediate throb you feel, but he’s quick to smooth his big hands over your cramping foot and massage out some of the ache. It was really sweet of him, actually, and you eventually find yourself relaxing into his touch. “Does that feel better, pretty girl?” 

“Much, your grace.” 

Humming his approval, Wriothesley gently sets your foot down so he can set his sights on the other shoe. He manages to get this one off a little quicker, and you’re soon groaning into the stilted relief his rubbing hands provide to your sore toes. You almost don’t want it to end but, finally, he sets that one down too before palming at your calf so he can slide up along your stockings to the garter clasps. This he manages to unfasten with a quick, simple flick of his wrist so he can gently tug the sheer material down and get it off. 

“Have you helped many ladies in their boudoir?” 

He snorts a quick laugh as he tosses your stocking aside, immediately going back for the other. “Hardly. I know just enough to be dangerous, that’s all.” 

“Oh, I think I’d consider you quite dangerous …” 

The sapphires in his eyes flash at you, a vague smirk tugging at his roguish mouth. Hands slipping up behind your legs to catch in the bends of your knees, he easily pulls them apart into a wide spread and you jolt at suddenly having your pantied cunt right in his face. 

“Your grace!” You squeak with no shortage of horror. “T - that’s - -“ 

He doesn’t even stop long enough to hear what you’ve got to say. 

Leaning into the space between your thighs, he presses his nose right up against you to make you go ramrod stiff, and you just stare down at him in blatant disbelief with your hands half stretched out to shove at him. Rolling his eyes up to look at you, Wriothesley seems to taunt you with it while he mouths at your pussy for an extended beat until he manages to draw a low, faltering groan out of you. Swaying unsteadily, you once again find yourself thinking that you’re not even going to make it into the tub. 

“The w - water,” You finally get out with some effort this time, shaking like a leaf. “If you do that, it — it’ll get … cold.” 

He doesn’t seem like he cares very much for that, obviously much more interested in what’s between your legs. But, after a short pause, he does slowly ease back to peer up at you. “You’re not opposed to it?” 

“… I don’t think so.” 

A hungry look passes over his face at that, and you numbly watch him rock back and find his feet. Towering over you like this, he starts to unbutton his dress shirt with practiced precision, soon shrugging out of it altogether, and your eyes almost pop right out of your skull when you see his bare chest for the first time. He was … magnificent is the only word you could think to describe it. Well toned, tight pecs, bulging biceps that flex when he moves, defined abdominals that lead straight down to - - 

“Oh.” You blurt out, with feeling. 

Shuffling close, Wriothesley silently holds out a hand towards you. You’re so overwhelmed with everything that’s happened just over the last handful of minutes that you foolishly think he’s going to help you up, and you blithely slip your fingers into his. To your sputtering surprise, however, he just takes your hand and redirects it to the front of his pants, pressing your palm over the stiff length inside. 

“This is yours, pretty girl. Do you understand that?” 

He was certainly drilling that into your brain enough for you not to forget! “Y - … yes, sir.” 

“Do you want it tonight?” 

You practically collapse right then and there. “I do.” 

Groaning so softly you almost miss it, Wriothesley leaves your hand where it’s at and reaches up to yank at the buttons of his pants. You give him a shy, tentative little squeeze, and fresh heat promptly marches across your face when it twitches in response. You’re not sure what to expect, have no idea what to even think at this point, but you start to feel well and truly faint when he shoves his pants and underwear down to his thick thighs, and a heavy cock springs up in the air between you two.

Your throat abruptly feels bone dry as you take it in, processing the weighty length of it, the dusty-pink glans, the ridged vein running along the side and the meaty bounce of his hanging balls when he shifts. Even the wiry thatch of dark hair crowning the base looks strangely arousing to you in that moment, and you hotly press your thighs together at the sight of him. Yes, magnificent was a good word for him. He was exquisite. 

“It’s … not as scary as I thought it would be.” You eventually manage to get out, your tongue feeling like a lead weight in your mouth. 

Snorting, Wriothesley holds out his hand again. “Would you like to touch it, lovely girl?” 

You only feel a slight hesitancy when you reach out, letting him guide your loosely curled fingers to his cock. You’re a little surprised at how soft it feels to the touch, his skin satiny and smooth, and so sinfully caressable you find yourself closing your hand around it before you even realize you’re doing it. There’s a pulse running through him and it throbs under the gentle pressure of your fist, straining up slightly in search of more. 

Abruptly, you recall what he’d said about rubbing it, and you slowly draw your hand up the same way he’d shown you before. 

Wriothesley catches you off guard when he viscously seethes at the sensation, bringing your startled attention up to his face. But all you see staring back at you is deeply felt pleasure, his brows drawn together to knit over the ridge of his nose, and you feel a strange sense of power come over you. Was this what he felt every time he turned your body against you? 

“Shall I do it like this, sir?” 

“A menace,” He grits out, just watching you tug on his cock with a sharp, distant gleam in his eyes. “That’s what you are, you know that?” 

“You’re the one who taught me.” 

Wriothesley sends you a heated look, letting out a thin chuckle. “Don’t start getting cute now. Even though I’d hate to do it and ruin this — very enjoyable moment, I still won’t hesitate to take you over my knee. You’re rather precious with my cock in your hand like that, but even precious girls are not immune from getting their butts spanked.” 

A thrill races down your spine to settle low in your gut, making you squirm slightly in the chair. “Maybe I want his grace to spank me …?”

“When do you not, is the better question.” With a great deal of effort, he reaches down to still your hand, but you couldn’t have missed the look of regret in his face even if you’d wanted to. “That should probably be enough for now. If you keep tempting me like this, I’m not sure how much more I can take. Come. Let’s get you in the bath.” 

Carefully prying your fingers off him, Wriothesley leans down to grab under your arms and haul you back up to your feet again. You sway unsteadily even as you peer down between the two of you to look at his bobbing length but you soon have to look elsewhere when he bends to shimmy your garter belt down, and then your panties. You’re finally standing before him completely naked and you don’t feel half as self conscious about it as you’d expected to be. It was a little hard to cling to your shy uncertainty when you wanted him so bad you could have just screamed! 

Kicking off his pants and boots, he ignores your halfhearted protests as he expeditiously guides you over to the tub and climbs in first, getting situated before pulling you in with him. You make sure to step carefully, clutching at his big fingers as you gradually lower yourself to sit between his spread legs, and somehow you’re not the least bit surprised when some of the water sloshes out to smack against the title floor while the two of you get settled in against one another. 

“The landlord is going to kill me …” You murmur, more to yourself than him, but he just wraps his arms around you to gather you more firmly to himself. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll gladly pay for any renovations needed for water damage.” He says, pressing a hard kiss into your temple. 

Sighing softly, you experimentally wriggle back against the stiff cock digging into your spine, and he growls a low sound of warning against your face. Saying you hadn't expected it to come to this tonight would’ve been a massive understatement, but were you really that upset about it? You didn’t think so. You’d planned to see to his pleasure tonight, perhaps even remove that final barrier standing between him and your breasts, and now you were sitting naked with him in the bath. It was … a bit overwhelming, but in an exciting way. 

“Well,” You abruptly announce. “This certainly didn’t go to plan!” 

“I don’t mind that it didn’t.” Nuzzling against the side of your head, Wriothesley places another kiss to your cheek. “I admit, you did surprise me but I’m not complaining. You really did look lovely in your dress, by the way. I’m not just saying that for brownie points.” 

“Thank you … and you were quite dashing in your suit as well, but I think I still like the one you usually wear better.” 

“As do I. It’s much more comfortable.” 

Lifting one of his hands, he starts to scoop water up over your exposed shoulders and back, and you breathe out a content sigh as the warmth quickly bleeds into you. He’d distracted you so much that you’d almost forgotten just how cold you actually were after the rain, but that was rapidly fading into a distant memory now. Relaxing against him, you reach out to tentatively place your hands on his broad thighs under the water, and he lets you do it with an approving hum. 

It might not have been exactly what you’d prepared for going into tonight, but you were enjoying it very much. Getting to freely touch him like this, skin to skin contact while his cock occasionally twitched and he gently worked the cold water out of your hair … this was dangerously comfortable, and the almost romantic flicker of the candles on your counter weren’t helping matters either. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier? About making yourself the only rascal I know?” 

“That depends,” He volleys back easily enough. “Were you serious about preferring big dogs, and thinking that they might be worth the trouble?” 

You wrench around to look at him with clear shock dancing across your face, not even caring that more water spills out at the sudden movement. “You heard that?” 

The smile that creeps across his mouth just might be the most roguish one you’ve seen yet. “Of course I did. Even now you continue to underestimate me … I’m not sure if I should be offended by that or flattered that I give off the impression of someone who doesn’t hear every little thing going on around them. I told you I wasn’t going to let you out of my sight for even a moment, didn’t I?” 

“Forgive me, your grace. I wasn’t aware that you hear with your eyeballs.” 

“Ooho, and there’s that feisty attitude I love so much. Is that how we’re about to go into this, little miss?” 

You hesitate. There was that dreaded ‘L’ word again! 

Evidently seeing the uncertainty on your face, Wriothesley quickly sobers. “You don’t need to feel nervous. I’ll be gentle.” 

“It’s not that …” 

He tips his head to one side. “Then what is it? 

Breathing out a clipped sigh, you slowly lean back against his chest again and reach up to cup along his strong jaw, pulling him closer. “You’re still just so confusing …” 

Rather than pushing you any further, Wriothesley obliges and bends down to kiss you, the steady motion of his mouth on yours making quick work of distracting you from the odd things he says. Moaning softly against his lips, you arch your back to better present your tits when he reaches around to fondle them. His hands feel indescribably good on your chest without anything in the way like this, and softened nipples quickly pucker again under his palms. 

He takes his time playing with them, just like he promised he would; unhurriedly kneading the flesh and squeezing at you for a long while before eventually pinching the stiff buds between his calloused fingers when they’re straining hard and tender. That has you squirming between his legs, and you dig your nails into his thighs to ground yourself. You wanted him now. Not later. You needed everything he was willing to give you right this instant, and not a moment more! 

Unable to take it any more, you tip your head back to rest across his shoulder. You tell him what you’re thinking in a hushed whisper, how you don’t think you can wait any longer to have him, and he carefully rolls his hips to nudge his cock up against your bottom in response. 

“Are you sure, pretty girl? We don’t need to rush and do everything tonight. I can take care of you just as well with my mouth.” 

Just the thought of him taking his mouth to you has your pussy clenching eagerly, and you arch against him with a needy little moan. “Then will you do it now, your grace? I’d like to cum …”

“Of course I will.” Wriothesley gives you one last, lingering kiss that makes you whine low in your throat. He’s carefully untangling the two of you then, and you sway unsteadily when he helps you find your feet in the tub, but his hands are like iron bracers on your hips keeping you from tipping over. “Sit on the edge of the tub for me? Don’t fret, I’ve got you. Just like that. Good. Now spread your legs … a little more, sweetheart, that’s it. Stay just like that, okay? I’m not going to let you fall. Gods, just look at this sweet pussy.” 

With a low, almost bestial snarl, he swoops down to run his tongue straight up the length of your slit and you jolt like he’d electrocuted you. Eyes wide, almost unseeing, you tip your face down to watch him nuzzle into you, mouthing at pudgy cunt lips to coax them open for him. You have but a split second to wonder if you’d made a mistake, and then his tongue is dipping out to trace over soft creases and folds, feeling around for a moment as if to familiarize himself. Your face suddenly feels hot enough to cook an egg. The thought that you were letting him do something so shameful, putting his mouth on this intimate part of your body, niggles at the back of your mind for an extended beat like a hovering storm cloud.  

But then he finds your clit. 

You go ramrod stiff with a startled squeak, hips juddering entirely against your will when Wriothesley tauntingly swirls around the sensitive little pleasure button in increasingly tighter circles before at last grinding directly over top of it. It feels vaguely like your life is flashing before your very eyes but you can’t bring yourself to look away any more than you can bring yourself to close your legs and shut him out. It was a drastically different sensation from the one you derived rubbing yourself on his thighs or his hands, his tongue so soft and wet, and warm, yet completely unrelenting in the way it nudges your clit back and forth. Up and down, side to side, lapping at you with a hunger that almost bowls you over. You promptly forget to be embarrassed about it, and shudderingly arch your back for him instead. 

Coming up off you with a low, rumbling groan some moments later, he presses a quick kiss to your throbbing cunt. “You taste so good, pretty girl. Better than any wine, that’s for sure.” He takes a moment to draw a deep breath that makes his big shoulders rise and fall, and then he slowly tilts his head up to look at you from where he’s knelt inside the tub. “How’s that feel, sweetness? You like my mouth on your pussy?” 

You jerk your head in a frantic nod, clutching the sides of the porcelain in a death grip. “Y - yes, sir! I want … I want more, please!” 

He groans when you tip your pelvis towards him, plaintively offering your cunt to him, and he responds with a toe curling squeeze around your hips. “You are going to be the ruin of me, and I don’t even care.” Lowering his face again, Wriothesley shoves his mouth against you and you choke at the sensation of his tongue slipping out to once more lash at your clit. 

Swaying dizzily, you nudge yourself further down to stiltedly rock on his face, and he lets you do it with an approving groan. You aren’t quite sure what’s come over you in that moment but between your cunt drooling an excessive amount of slick and your nipples straining up into the air, you feel truly wild. Trusting that he wouldn’t let you fall, you reach down with one hand to snag a fistful of his dark hair, which he seems to like given the way his cock jumps in his lap. You can barely see it from this angle but that bobbing motion was unmistakable, and you give your hand a little twist to tug at the roots. Hot breath puffing against your pussy, Wriothesley lets you turn his head slightly to the side where he sucks in a thick inhale. 

“Is that where you want me, sweet girl? Go on. Put my mouth right where you want it, baby, it’s all yours.” 

A wounded little noise punches out of your tight chest, and you shudder so hard you really think you might fall. His hold on you is absolute though, just as it always is, and you’re free to jerk and twist as much as you like while he voraciously eats you out. His tongue smacks into your clit from a new angle with the tilt of his head, the sharp nudge making you squeal. It was simply too much. You’d never felt anything like it in all your life, and you had no idea how to brace against it. 

“Ohh — ooooh! Oh, god, oh, god, oh, god … wah - Wriothesley! Please! I - I’m gonna’ - -“

“Cum for me, sweetheart.” He rumbles, muffled in the meat of your cunt. “Soak my face, pretty girl. Let me taste you.” 

Pussy clenching tight enough to hurt, you let out a thin, high pitched keen as your thighs begin to quake around his head. Slurping loudly, he repositions himself towards the center and gives his head a shake that seems to make every single nerve ending in your cunt light up like a firework. A warning tremor works through you as you heave, and he does it again. You just start to feel yourself tip over when he flattens his tongue to your clit and grinds mean little circles into it, and you surely would have jolted right up in the air if he hadn’t been holding you so tight. Instead, all you do is pitifully jerk against him, and the pressure suddenly gives way to a powerful orgasm that brings the sting of tears to your eyes.

Wailing in overwhelmed distress, you shake through your release while he continues to eat you out until it quickly stretches well past the point of pleasure straight into discomfort. You were too sensitive post-release. Too overwrought and tender when your pussy was still fluttering wildly around nothing, and you desperately push at him. At first you don’t think he’s going to stop, that he’s just going to keep at it incessantly, but then he finally slows the ministrations of his mouth to a standstill. Wriothesley doesn’t immediately remove his face from between your legs though, and you just seethe as the last of the spasms slowly ebb and fade to leave you twitching in the aftermath. 

Only then does he ease back, and your body just seizes all over again when you see the heated glint in his blue eyes. He looks at you like a starving wolf might look at its prey, all mindless animal hunger and fast pumping endorphins. It almost leaves you speechless. 

“Y - your grace?” 

“Bath time is over.” He abruptly announces, his stern tone brokering no room for argument. 

Eyes widening slightly, you tip your head back when he carefully finds his feet without letting up his hold on your hips and you quickly realize why. Tugging you off the ledge, he picks you straight up into his arms before your feet even have a chance to get settled on the porcelain bottom, and you clutch at him fiercely when he steps out of the tub. He doesn’t even bother with a towel and instead just brushes straight out into the main room. 

You almost lose your nerve but somehow manage to find your voice when he’s almost made it to the loveseat along the far wall. “It’s okay, Wriothesley. You can take me into the bedroom.” 

He immediately stops at your breathless little squeak, and tips his face down to look at you. “You’re sure? I can have you sit on my face just as well out here, pretty girl.” 

“Wha — no, no, no! It’s your turn next! You said you would teach me how to tend to you …” 

A muscle in his jaw visibly ticks as he draws a painfully slow breath that makes his chest press up into you. “There are a great many things I’d like to teach you, little miss. I’m not even sure where to start … how would you like to tend to me? Perhaps we should begin there.” 

You ponder that for a moment, not really even sure what your options were other than the obvious. “I suppose I don’t exactly know … can I put my mouth on you too?” 

“Oh, bless the seven!” Cursing under his breath, Wriothesley does an abrupt about face and makes a beeline straight towards your bedroom. Bouncing in his arms, you’re more than just a bit surprised at how fast he can move, and it doesn’t take long at all for you to find yourself bouncing down onto the bed with a squeak. 

Quickly, you push up onto your elbows but he’s already crawling on top of you, muscle heavy arms coming around you to brace himself against the mattress, and you go ramrod stiff when you see the weighty strain of his cock looming nearer. You hate yourself for your last minute jitters, and you hate even more that he clearly doesn’t miss the uncertainty that flashes across your face. He stills half over top of you, just looking at you for a long moment. 

“It’s alright,” He tells you at length, back to some semblance of his usual calm again. “I’m just going to kiss you first, if that is to your liking. I won’t do anything you don’t explicitly ask me to, sweetheart. You have the control here.” 

“I’m so sorry,” You mewl, feeling absolutely miserable. “I don’t know why I’m like this!” 

Shushing you softly, Wriothesley reaches up to pull your hands away when you try to cover your face and hide from him. “Don’t apologize. Hey, just look at me for a second, okay? There … that’s my pretty girl.” He gives you a quick smile as he playfully pinches your hot cheek to make you squirm. “There’s nothing wrong with being nervous about your first time. I know we’ve talked this over a lot already, but I hope you know I’m nothing if not willing to wait for you. Whenever you’re ready, it doesn’t matter how long. I’ll spend the rest of my life waiting for you if that’s what it takes so no pressure, alright?” 

You can’t quite stop your surprise from showing. “The rest of your life? Surely you don’t actually mean that … you’ll get so terribly sick of me!” 

“I do mean it. And I won’t, don’t worry about that.” Taking it slow, like he was dealing with a very skittish cat, he crawls the rest of the way up to join you, settling on his side rather than on top. You’re incredibly embarrassed to realize that the difference in his approach did make you feel worlds better, and you gladly let him pull you around to snuggle up into his broad chest. “Trust me, if that attitude of yours hasn’t scared me off by now then nothing will.” 

“… you’re terrible.” You murmur, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. 

“I think I’ve heard that once or twice before. How very curious.” 

Bending his head close, he stamps a hard kiss to your forehead, and you whimper softly even as you bring your hand up to tentatively caress over his side. “Curious indeed, your grace …” 

With a soft hum of encouragement, Wriothesley takes his time kissing over your face — your cheeks, your eyelashes, your nose — while you ever so carefully run fingers over him. His body is so thick and tightly packed with muscle that you think it probably isn’t any wonder that the thought of having him on top of you, pinning you down under all that weight, scares you as much as it does. Even now when you wanted him as badly as you do. You like the way he feels under your hand though, firm and unrelenting. Almost stiflingly warm to the touch. 

You cuddle further into that oppressive body heat, seeking out his warmth with your bare skin. His palm runs over your back and your sides while you spend a quiet moment just familiarizing yourself with his body. From his thick arm across to his broad barrel chest where you pause to play with his nipple. It’s a dusty-pink, just like the head of his cock, and just meaty enough for you to get a good hold on it. He only noises a brief sound though, evidently not half as sensitive here as yours were, and you can’t help but think that that’s a bit unfair. 

Lower, you trace over his abdominals and run your fingers over each individual divot and ridge you encounter, fascinated with the build of him. As you gradually work your way further down, he slowly nudges over onto his back to give you access to his cock whenever you're ready for it, and you greedily eye it as you inch your fingers close. The hair on his groin is coarse and thick, but it feels nice under your hand. You follow it straight to the object of your focus where it’s laying across his inner thigh, twitching every so often. 

It stirs fully at your first touch though, and your cunt clenches eagerly at the sensation of that silky skin under your palm again. Gently, you get your fingers around it and pull it upward. 

“It’s heavy.” You murmur into the stillness. 

Rumbling a low sound of agreement, Wriothesley shifts against you to look down at himself as well. “It looks rather large in your dainty little hand, doesn’t it?” 

“I think it would look large no matter what …” 

“Mmm. Flattery is just going to find you seated on my face that much quicker, pretty girl.” 

“Oh, stop.” Trying very hard not to giggle, you carefully inch your way up the length of him until you reach the glans. Swiping your finger over the slit in the middle comes back sticky, and you take a moment to just feel along the smooth skin. Enjoying it, savoring it. Committing it all to memory. “Does that feel good, your grace?” 

“It does. Just like when I rub that cute pussy for you, it feels even better when you do it a bit more firmly.” He accompanies that with another kiss to your forehead, but you don’t allow him to distract you. You were starting to have a creeping suspicion why it had gotten him so worked up when you’d asked if you could put your mouth on him. 

You enjoyed when he rubbed your pussy, just as he seemed to enjoy you rubbing his cock for him, but you also now knew how much more intense the sensation of a hot tongue could be when applied directly to your clit. So then logic should only dictate … 

Gathering your courage, you slowly untangle yourself from him and sit up. Wriothesley steadily looks up at you, clearly waiting to see what you would choose to do next, so you quickly get spun around before your nerves can falter. Kneeling next to his hip now, you take him in hand again as his rough palm slides across your lower back, just holding you, and then you lean down. 

The first kitten lick across the head coats your tongue in salt, but not unpleasantly so, and he outright seethes at the sensation. Feeling emboldened, you do it again and again, mimicking the way he’d so expertly licked you in the bathroom. Eventually, though, he gives your waist a tight squeeze, and hisses as if in frustration. 

“Put your whole mouth on it, pretty girl. Don’t question it, just listen. There you go, open wide … nnghh. That feels good. You look so lovely with my cock stuffed in your mouth …” He chuckles, thin and strained when you noise a flustered little sound around the girth spreading your lips. “Are you getting embarrassed? I’d say it’s a bit late for that … look at you, taking care of me so well. Take it a little deeper. Nnghn — yes, now move your head back and forth. Just like that. You’ve got it. Oohn ...” 

The way he quietly groans, clutching your waist with an almost unexpected fervor, further bolsters your courage. It helps to dispel some of your lingering doubts, and the pangs of deep shame you felt at doing something that seemed so inherently dirty quickly dissolves into a distant afterthought. He felt good in your mouth, all warm and fleshy, and mind numbingly stiff. Velvety smooth, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before, and you take a great deal of pleasure in flicking your tongue over him to familiarize yourself with it. 

Your shy, timid ministrations soon pick up over the course of the next few minutes, and Wriothesley issues a heaving grunt into the still air when you pull him in a little deeper. You can almost feel him nudging at the back of your throat now but you’re not so sure you’re ready to tempt fate like that just yet, so you keep working your lips over what you’re comfortable with while your hands explore the rest of his groin. Coarse hair tickles your knuckles when you caress along his inner thigh, marveling at the thick musculature even here as the other holds him steady at the base. 

A rumbling groan spills out of him as he brings his head back up after letting it loll back for a moment, visibly struggling with his self control now. Rather stiffly, he reaches down to crowd his hand in close to your face. “Squeeze it, sweetheart. Like this.” Those blocky fingers wrap around yours where you’re holding onto him, and then press down to make your grip tighten. 

The cock in your mouth jumps and stiffens under the pressure, somehow swelling even more in your mouth to really stuff your lips full. Whimpering low at the sensation as much as the way your pussy flutters in response, you readjust your grip on his length while he grunts and then drags his hand down a little lower. 

“You can touch here too.” He murmurs, curling his fingers around the weight of his ballsack to give it a slow, savory squeeze as well. “Just be gentle. These are sensitive.”

You wonder at that, carefully pulling off him so you can catch your breath and swivel your attention down to regard the meaty swell of flesh hanging between his legs. Taking his hand off himself, Wriothesley reaches up to tenderly cup your cheek next and you whine very softly at the potent rush of male musk that suddenly floods your nostrils. It’s not a bad smell by any stretch of the imagination but it’s noticeable, and it’s obvious, and it sparks something in your brain that makes you start to slip under alarmingly fast. Like the natural scent of his body, his genitals, was an extremely potent and effective aphrodisiac, it just seems to ratchet your own arousal up even higher to leave you feeling dizzy with it.

Shudderingly, you tip your face down and press it into the terribly soft skin, and he gives a faint jolt at the contact. You breathe him in deep, taking a moment to just kiss him there, and he quickly reaches up to close around your fist again, firmly tugging it up and down his cock now. 

“Shit! You’re such a good girl, sweetheart … you like having my cock and balls in your face like that? Huh?” 

The thin, rattling quality of his voice just rushes straight to your pussy, and you nod your head with a muffled whimper. It felt like you were suffocating in him, his taste and his smell. The body heat rolling off him in waves is almost suffocating. You were beyond intoxicated and punchdrunk on it, all of it, so lost you barely even realize you’re doing it when you start to mouth at his balls and gently suck on them. 

“Oohhn, little miss … you don’t even have any idea what you’re doing to me right now. Come here. Lay out next to me.” 

He drags the hand resting across your back further down, over the curve of your ass to hook around the pudge of your inner thigh. Gentle yet insistent, he nudges you until you have no choice but to come up off his ballsack with a haggard gasp. Panting, you tremblingly let him tug your lower half towards him until you find yourself splayed out half on top of his body, your front resting along his strong hips while one leg comes up to curl over his chest. You aren’t quite brave enough to fully straddle him just yet but he doesn’t seem to mind, rough fingers finding the seam in your body and spreading your cunt open for him. 

“God, this is the prettiest pussy. You look tight enough to pinch my cock right off.” Squeaking at that, you start to turn to fix him with an incredulous look, but you don’t quite make it that far. His hand abruptly retreats only to swat across the meat of your ass, making you jolt. “You were asking me for a spanking earlier, weren’t you? Still want it?” 

You waver on top of him, clutching his pulsing cock in a death grip. “Yes, sir, I want it …” 

“Good. Then keep sucking my cock and I’ll spank you as much as you want.” Swat! “Just watch your teeth, okay pretty girl?” 

Noising a wordless sound of understanding, you dip your face down to take him into your mouth again. The next slap across your quickly tingling ass almost has your eyes rolling back in your head as you moan around the thick length stretching your lips wide. You can tell he’s not putting much intent behind the rhythmic smacks, one cheek and then the other, back and forth to leave your bottom turning red, but even that is enough to make you lose yourself even more in the statically charged daze. 

Even knowing he’s looking directly at your body completely unheeded doesn’t do much to curb your arousal, and you seem to forget all of your timid uncertainty as you start bobbing your head in earnest. Up and down, up and down — the motion is a bit stilted in this position, bordering on awkward, but Wriothesley groans appreciatively anyway, his toes visibly flexing down by the edge of the bed. It just further spurns you on, sending you on a soaring high you hadn’t expected to feel doing this sort of thing. Eagerly, you reach down to fondle his balls with your free hand, making him subtly twitch in response. 

Swat! 

“Oohn, pretty girl … your mouth feels so good on me like that. You’re doing such a good job.” 

Swat! 

“Do you like having your butt spanked while you suck my cock?”

Groaning, you jerk your head in a flustered nod, squeaking out a faint, “Mhm!” 

“I should have known,” He laughs, strained and very close to being breathless. “You’re such a sweet little masochist, and I can tell how much you’re getting off on this. Your cute pussy looks so soft and juicy right now … just begging to get stuffed full.” 

You shudder so violently you very nearly vibrate right off him, but another slap across your ass promptly grounds you. Dazedly swaying, you work your mouth over him a little quicker. A bit more urgently. 

“That’s it, little miss. Keep sucking me off. You’re well on your way to earning a nice reward for yourself after this … nnghn — you’re so good for me. Gonna’ make me cum soon … how do you want it, sweetheart? I can cum on those lovely tits if you want, or …” A deeply ruffled sound rises in him, catching you off guard. “Or I can cum straight into that warm little mouth of yours. How would you like that, hm? Wanna’ be a good girl and swallow my load for me?”  

The tremor that tears through you has you lurching on top of him, frantically noising around him. You’re not even quite sure what it is you’re experiencing at the moment, everything so intense and strong, and overwhelming that you don’t know what to make of any of it. You can’t even think straight, but he just shifts underneath you with another low chuckle. 

“Gods, you really are perfect. I’m going to hold your head for a moment but don’t worry, okay? I’m not going to hurt you.” 

You believed him, implicitly, and all you do is softly whimper when he reaches down to palm the back of your skull. The frantic energy shooting off inside you feels like it’s reaching fever pitch as he directs your face a pinch lower, centering you over top of him, and then — his hips suddenly nudge up, pressing his cock deep before stiltedly retracting. You can’t help the soft squeal that bursts out of you, muffled around his girth, and your eyes quickly flutter closed when he does it again, settling into a stiffly restrained pace that has him gliding back and forth across your tongue. 

Wriothesley moans, very quietly, while he holds your head in place so he can fuck up into your mouth at that tortuous speed. His other hand curls over your ass and delivers a distracted smack to the swell of it before latching on in a tight grip, squeezing hard enough to leave behind bruises as he pulls you open again. You know he’s looking directly at your cunt now, staring at it while he thrusts towards the back of your throat, and you don’t even care. You’re so hot, so needy for relief from this dizzying level of arousal, that you simply take as much of him as he’s willing to give you at any one time. 

Was this — was this what it would feel like to have him moving between your legs? 

“Oohhn, I’m getting close, my lovely girl … ready for your first real taste of me? Gonna’ swallow it down, nice and good … nghnn, it’s coming, sweetheart, get ready. Right there. Yeah. That’s — shit, I’m cumming! Here it comes …”

Groaning feverishly, Wriothesley’s hips falter and quake as he jerks himself up into your mouth with fast growing urgency. The rhythm he’d settled into falters and then breaks down completely, and he just judders for a desperate heartbeat before going still with his cock stuffed back against the root of your tongue. Your eyes widen slightly when you feel him give a powerful pulse of clenching muscle, and then a hot, cloying clump of something thick shoots out of him to coat the roof of your mouth. Trembling almost violently, you noise a faint sound of surprise, not having expected such a sudden burst of potent, bitter salt on your tastebuds, but it just keeps coming. Spurt after heavy spurt floods your mouth until you have no choice but to choke it down. You’re vaguely aware of some escaping the seal of your raw lips to dribble down the side of his length, but you can’t quite bring yourself to care about that right now. 

Throat clenching tightly, you give a weak cough around him as he gradually starts to relax under you, the tension in his frame bleeding away in the time it takes you to blink. Heaving a breathy, sensitive groan, he gingerly starts to ease his cock back, and you gratefully suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air. 

“Was that … to your liking, your grace?” You finally manage to croak out with no shortage of effort some moments later. 

“I loved it, little miss. You did very well, in fact.” His voice is warm with satiated pleasure, and he slides his hand down off your head to give the back of your neck an approving squeeze. “You’ve been so sweet for me all evening. I’m very proud of you for being such a brave girl tonight.” 

A pleased tremor works through you as you carefully sit up so you can turn around, unable to keep the smile off your face now when he opens up his arms for you. You don’t even hesitate to lay out across his chest with your face pressed into the hollow of his neck, snuggling deep to get comfortable. Humming a soft sound of approval, Wriothesley tightly wraps his burly arms around you so he can half lift, half drag you further on top of him until you’re stretched out across his body. 

It felt good, laying out on top of him like this in the afterglow … 

“Thank you, sir,” You murmur into his skin, still flushed and warm with the lingering traces of his arousal. “I’m very glad that I was able to spend such a wonderful evening with you, and — I'm also happy that I could make you feel good, too.”

“I feel fantastic. Better than good, actually.” He assures you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “I know you’re still nervous about fully giving yourself over to me, and that’s okay. I’m perfectly satisfied just like this. We can take it as slow as you want.” 

Whimpering softly when a rush of emotion floods into your chest, you quickly bury your face a little further into his neck to hide it. Wriothesley was so sweet to you … did you really even deserve this? It was overwhelming and scary, and indescribably unexpected in the worst possible way, but … that was okay, wasn’t it? 

Evidently picking up on the tension making your slighter frame stiffen against him, he starts rubbing those big, callused hands over your back in comforting circles. “What is it, pretty girl? You don’t seem quite so happy anymore. Did I say something wrong again?” 

You give a thick laugh, struggling to keep the tears suddenly stinging your eyes at bay. “No, it’s not that …” 

“Then what’s the matter? You can tell me anything.” A soft kiss to your shoulder assures you of that, and you force yourself to draw a steadying breath. He’d taught you how to be honest, both with yourself and with him, so you don’t struggle with it nearly as much as you would have at one time. 

“You just make me feel like such a mess inside. I don’t really know what to do with myself right now but … I'm sure I am happy. I’m also a bit scared and confused though. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

He draws an even breath that makes his chest rise and fall underneath you, lifting you slightly. “I’d wager that’s pretty normal, considering how many boundaries we’ve crossed tonight. Fear of the new and unknown isn’t so strange, but … I think I might have something in mind that just might help you relax a bit.” 

You shift against him, undeniably curious. “What is it?” 

“We can discuss that later. Tomorrow.” Sighing, Wriothesley gathers you up tighter to his chest, just holding you like that. “Unfortunately even if I wanted to continue right now, I’m afraid it’s going to take me a while to recover from what we’ve already done. Unlike you, I can’t bounce back from everything quite as fast.” 

He accompanies this with a taunting little pinch to your waist, making you squirm and press your face tighter into his neck. 

“Besides, you’ve already had a long day, pretty girl … you should get some rest.”

“You’ll stay?” 

“I promise I’m not going anywhere.” A hard kiss pressed into the crown of your head. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.” 

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

Wriothesley keeps his word, and you do indeed wake up the next morning in a tangle of limbs to the steady rise and fall of his broad barrel chest under your cheek. The morning light drifting in through the sheer curtains on the window casts a glow across him, and you spend what feels like a lifetime just watching the handsome duke sleep. 

He was still strange and confusing, and undeniably frustrating at times, but … he was also sweet, and infinitely patient with you. Even for as hard and blistering the sting of his hand could be, it was also capable of the softest touch. The fingers curled possessively around your hip, loosely clutching the meat of your leg in his slumber, feels like an anchoring lifeline and you think you really might love him. 

The thought of that isn’t half as scary as you would have at one time thought it to be. Just last night you probably would have thrown up your defensive walls and gone running from him in hysterics but waking up to him in your bed like this somehow reframes things. Makes it all look so much more soft and faint around the edges like a blissful dream. It’s not frightening here, in the still morning air, and you soon realize with a resoundingly warm thrum that you would have liked to stay with him, just like this, forever. 

Unfortunately the world stops for no one, regardless of how peaceful and happy they might be, and you eventually bring yourself to carefully untangle from him so you can crawl out of bed without disturbing him. You were going to surprise him with homemade crepes for breakfast.

⭐

Crossposted: here

[spoilbratksworld]

Pairings: Uma x m!Y/n

Warnings: Contains mild violence, blood, intense emotional themes, and complex relationships. Suitable for mature teens and adults.

_________________________________________

The sun was setting over the Isle of the Lost, casting long shadows across the dilapidated buildings and trash-strewn streets. In a dimly lit room aboard Uma's ship, Y/n, son of Eris, sat reading an ancient tome on chaos magic. The sudden burst of the door flying open barely fazed him as Uma stormed in, her eyes alight with excitement and a touch of malice.

"Y/n! You won't believe what's happened," Uma exclaimed, her braids swinging as she paced the small cabin. "Mal and her little gang are back on the Isle. And get this – they brought Prince Ben with them!"

Y/n's eyebrow arched slightly as he closed his book. "Is that so? How... interesting." His voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of something darker. "I assume you have plans for this fortuitous turn of events?"

Uma's grin was sharp as a shark's. "Oh, you know me so well. I've already sent Harry and Gil to bring our royal visitor to us. But Y/n..." Her voice softened slightly, a hint of vulnerability showing through her tough exterior. "What about Mal? Are you going to try to win her back?"

Y/n sat up straighter, his golden eyes fixed on Uma. "And why would I do that, Uma? Do you think she deserves my attention after everything?"

Uma opened her mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond. Y/n stood, crossing the room in a few smooth strides. He took Uma's hand in his, his touch gentle despite the calluses from years of wielding weapons.

"Uma," he said softly, "you should know by now. You have me, all of me. There's no need for jealousy or doubt."

Uma's breath caught in her throat. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Y/n pulled a dagger from his belt. The blade glinted in the low light as he made a swift cut across his palm, then did the same to Uma's hand. She didn't flinch, her eyes locked on his face.

"With this blood, I bind us," Y/n intoned, pressing their bleeding palms together. "Our lives, our souls, united as one. Do you accept this bond, Uma?"

Uma's voice was barely a whisper. "I do."

A faint glow surrounded their joined hands, and Uma gasped as she felt a surge of power flow through her. When it faded, Y/n cupped her face in his hands and placed a tender kiss on her forehead.

"Now and always," he murmured, before turning and walking away, leaving Uma to process what had just occurred.

Meanwhile, in Ursula's Fish and Chips shop, chaos reigned. Mal had burst in, her eyes glowing green with barely contained fury.

"Where is he, Uma?" Mal demanded, magic crackling around her fists.

Uma lounged against the counter, a smirk playing on her lips. "Who, your precious little king? Oh, he's safe... for now."

Mal lunged forward, but Uma was ready. The two girls clashed in a flurry of fists and magic, their battle destroying tables and sending patrons fleeing.

"You've gotten soft in Auradon, Mal," Uma taunted as she dodged a blast of green energy. "Forgotten how we do things on the Isle?"

Mal snarled, her pixie heritage giving her enhanced speed and agility. "I haven't forgotten anything, Uma. Including how to take you down!"

The fight intensified, both girls drawing blood and leaving scorch marks on the walls. Just as Mal was about to land a devastating blow, a sudden pulse of energy sent her flying backwards. She crashed into the wall, her head ringing from the impact.

As Mal struggled to her feet, she saw Uma surrounded by a shimmering aura of power. Uma's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in triumph.

"Well, well," Uma purred. "Looks like I've got a guardian angel. Or should I say, a guardian chaos god?"

Mal's heart clenched as realization dawned. "Y/n," she whispered.

Uma's grin was vicious. "That's right, Mal. He's with me now. And if you want to see your precious Ben alive again, you'll bring me Fairy Godmother's wand."

Mal's jaw tightened. "Fine. But this isn't over, Uma."

As Mal turned to leave, Uma couldn't resist one final jab. "Oh, and Mal? Y/n sends his regards. We've gotten quite... close."

Mal paused, her back to Uma. "Is that so? Well, you might want to ask yourself, Uma – if he's so devoted to you, why does he always come running when I'm in danger?" With that parting shot, Mal stalked out of the shop.

Y/n's hideout was a testament to his parentage – a swirling mix of order and chaos, beautiful and terrifying all at once. When Mal and her friends entered, they found him lounging on a throne-like chair, idly toying with a ball of crackling energy.

"Well, if it isn't the prodigal daughter of evil," Y/n drawled, his eyes fixed on Mal. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Mal stepped forward, her chin raised defiantly. "Cut the act, Y/n. What's this I hear about you and Uma?"

Y/n's laugh was cold and bitter. "Act? Oh, Mal. You're the one who's been acting. Playing at being good, pretending you belong in Auradon. At least I know who and what I am."

He stood, moving closer to Mal. In one swift motion, he snatched the necklace from around her neck – the one he had given her long ago.

"You don't need this anymore," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Uma deserves everything I can give her. My love, my loyalty, my devotion. She's never tried to change me or leave me behind."

Mal's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "Y/n, please. This isn't you. Uma's using you, can't you see that?"

Y/n's expression hardened. "No, Mal. For the first time, I see clearly. Now go. Try to save your king. But remember – the Isle always wins in the end."

As Mal and her friends left, Evie placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?" she asked softly.

Mal squared her shoulders. "I have to be. We have a wand to fake and a king to save."

On Uma's ship, Y/n watched as she paced back and forth, muttering to herself. "Uma," he called out, concern lacing his voice. "What's troubling you?"

Uma stopped, turning to face him. "It's what Mal said. About you always coming when she's in danger. Is... is that true?"

Y/n sighed, pulling Uma close. "Come with me," he said, leading her to her cabin. Once inside, he retrieved a dusty tome from a hidden compartment.

"Do you know what this is?" he asked, opening the book to a specific page. Uma shook her head.

"This," Y/n explained, "is a record of ancient rituals and bonds. The blood-sharing we did? It's more than just a symbolic gesture. For beings like us – demigods, children of chaos – it's as binding as any marriage. More so, even. Our souls are literally entwined now, Uma."

Uma's eyes widened. "So when you saved me during the fight with Mal..."

Y/n nodded. "I felt your danger. Our bond called me to protect you. It has nothing to do with Mal, and everything to do with us."

Uma's face softened, a rare vulnerability showing through. "Y/n, I..."

Before she could finish, Harry burst into the cabin. "They're back!" he announced. "With the wand!"

The confrontation on the dock was tense. Mal held out the fake wand, her eyes never leaving Uma's face.

"The wand for Ben," she said firmly.

Uma reached for it, but Y/n's hand on her arm stopped her. "Be careful," he murmured. "Remember what we discussed about Fae magic."

Uma nodded, then took the wand. She waved it, expecting a surge of power. When nothing happened, her face contorted with rage.

"You lied!" she snarled, lunging at Mal.

Y/n caught her, holding her back. "Uma, stop. This isn't the way."

As chaos erupted around them, Y/n locked eyes with Mal over Uma's head. For a moment, something passed between them – regret, understanding, a hint of the connection they once shared. Then the moment was gone, and the battle raged on.

The Cotillion was in full swing when Ben arrived with Uma on his arm. The shocked gasps of the attendees were music to Uma's ears as Ben declared his love for her.

But the triumph was short-lived. Mal's true love's kiss broke the spell, and Uma found herself backed into a corner. With a cry of rage and pain, she leapt into the sea, the magic of her mother's shell transforming her into a magnificent, terrifying cecaelia.

As Mal transformed into a dragon to meet her, Uma felt a surge of power flow through her. Y/n's gift, their bond, giving her strength. The battle was fierce, water against fire, tentacles against wings.

In the end, it was Ben who stopped the fight. As Uma swam away, her heart heavy with defeat, she knew where she was going – back to the one person who truly understood her.

Y/n stood on the shore of the Isle, his eyes scanning the horizon. When he saw Uma emerge from the waves, her octopus form melting away, he opened his arms without a word.

Uma collapsed against him, her body shaking with silent sobs. Y/n held her close, stroking her hair.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're home now. We'll find another way, Uma. I promise you, one day, we'll have the freedom you dream of. Together."

Uma looked up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of tears and determination. "Promise?"

Y/n smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "I swear it on the chaos that runs through our veins. You and me, Uma. Always."

As they stood there, the sun setting behind them, Y/n and Uma knew that this was just the beginning of their story. The Isle of the Lost might be their prison for now, but with their combined power and cunning, it was only a matter of time before they rewrote the rules of their world.

After all, in chaos, there was always opportunity. And they were nothing if not masters of chaos.

[lokidjarin-7567]

Day 11: Public

The Mandalorian x you

Contents: drabble, fem!reader x The Mandalorian, not as smutty as I wanted this chapter to be but still fun, public (duh), the mask stays on

W/C: 750

Not my fav, but I like writing possessive Mando so here :)

Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3

The hand on your thigh was slowly climbing higher. You glanced at the Mandalorian next you for any clue as to what he wanted to happen next, but he was unreadable. As per fucking usual.

You’d never truly been able to work out what your companion was feeling. Sometimes, when he was especially stressed or angry, his body language gave it away. And you had learnt to read his tone of voice more or less, knowing what intonation meant that he was pleased, or frustrated, or horny. Stars, the way he spoke when he wanted you… it put you in the mood instantly.

You’d been travelling with him for over a year and you still hadn’t completely gotten used the mask. That you couldn’t see what he looked like, couldn’t gauge his reactions or see his smile, couldn’t kiss him… It was frustrating sometimes, especially in the heat of the moment when all you wanted was his lips on yours, but you respected his beliefs. If this was what he had to do, then this is how it was.

Better to have some of him than all of anyone else.

He was a perfect fit - in more ways than just physical. His calm soothed your chaos, his careful nature lulled your reckless one, his strength complemented your kindness.

And now… his patience was showing. The way his gloved fingers inched up your leg so slowly, caressing your thigh with minuscule strokes that had you squirming in the booth at the back of the cantina where you had settled.

“How was your food?” He drawled in that low, sensual tone of his that sent a purr of heat straight to your core.

“It was really good.” You managed to mutter, hand still travelling upwards as you gently pushed your plate away from you on the table. It wasn’t until the waiter turned and started to move towards you that he sped up a little, the leather of his glove ghosted against your clothed core, and you stifled a moan as the sudden stimulation.

“Mando…” you hissed through grit teeth as the waiter got closer, but he ignored you, pressing a fraction harder and you bit your lip, blushing red as he finally reached the table.

“How was everything today?” He asked, smiling widely and grabbing your plate.

“It was lovely, thank you.” You managed to choke out relatively normally, as he continued to apply pressure on your sensitive bud.

“Wonderful, can I get you folks anything else?” You started to mutter that you were fine, wanting nothing more than to do back to the ship, and let him do what he does best, but Mando interrupted.

“One more glass of Spotchka, please.”

“Coming right up.”

As he left, you nudged him, frustrated, and he just pressed his thumb across your cunt in response, earning a soft moan that you couldn’t quite bite back in time.

“Stars, Mando, I thought you wanted to…”

“I do.” He muttered calmly, fingers actively circling your clit now, and you ground into them, trying to chase that feeling you knew damn well he was capable of giving you. “I just want to make you suffer here a little longer.” You huffed.

“That’s fucking cruel.” He chuckled, continuing his infuriating pace.

“I just want them to know who you belong to. The waiter that keeps flirting with you. The couple that keeps glancing over at that table nearby. They need to know you’re mine.” He practically growled the last part, and you nodded in agreement just as the waiter brought over your drink.

“Thank… you.” You stuttered, in a way you hoped wouldn’t give you away, coughing straight afterwards to try and disguise your stumble as a sore throat. You think it might it have worked, as he didn’t show any signs of awkwardness, but Mando seemed to disagree, a smile leaking into his tone.

“Good job sweetheart. Let them know you’re not available…”

“Yes, I’m all yours, baby…”

“Say it again.” He growled. You were pressed against the wall, Mando buried deep inside you, so desperate you didn’t even close the door to the ship.

“All… mhm fuck… yours.” His hand found your chin, gripping tight and holding your face level with his mask. You grinned, angling your hips up a little to give him even more purchase.

“Atta girl, that’s it… Let me remind you why you’re mine…”

[kippipies]

Altngocut snippet????

(This is corpium)

yes hello I can definitely give you a snippet 😚 here is a little (or not so little?) domestic scene I cut from chapter 12 of altngo because I thought it brought down the pacing too much haha

“I simply will not have you curled up on my floor like a dog,” Riddle had chided, slippered foot tapping an impatient rhythm. “There is no need for shyness; my bed has more than enough room for the both of us.” Which was sort of an understatement, considering the mammoth piece of furniture in front of him. Harry had a feeling they could cuddle with half the city’s police department in there. Still, it was the principal of it all. “Yeah, no, that's okay,” Harry said, waving him off. “Huge fan of the floor, you don't have to worry about me.” It was a pretty comfortable floor, all things considered, and he even had a pillow and a blanket. He truly was living the high life.  Riddle tried a few more tactics, but Harry continued to shoot him down, settling deeper into his luxurious floor cocoon. Eventually, Riddle let out a huff, and Harry thought he might have finally given up. “Then, I suppose I will have to stomach my nightmares alone,” Riddle sighed instead, and Harry could almost envision him pulling out a handkerchief to dab delicately at his eyes. “Ever since that terrifying night on the yacht, they've been so persistent. I've been selfish, Harry, hoping that having you near to me would stave them off, but I suppose that was a foolish wish. It is only around you, that I truly feel safe, after all.” Harry couldn't help but wince deeply, hot guilt riling in his stomach.  “Okay, fine,” he sputtered, tossing back his blanket. “If it'll really help you that much, I'll sleep in the bloody bed, okay?” He quickly flopped onto the fancy duvet, ignoring the way Riddle’s dark eyes flashed in triumph at the movement. “Thank you, Harry. Your kindness truly is too much to bear, sometimes,” Riddle said, eyebrows drawing together. “Then, good night.” And with that, Riddle promptly rolled over, and closed his eyes. Harry gaped, resisting the urge to tear his own hair out. Was the bloke truly that haunted by nightmares? Or was he more haunted by the fact that Harry had said no to him? Either way, he doubted he'd get much sleep tonight.

But, even as he thought that, he was out the second his head hit the feathery pillow. He awoke the next morning feeling oddly warm, but more well rested than he felt in literal years. The bed was also conspicuously empty next to him.  Harry blinked rapidly, then got up, padding his way down to the kitchen. Riddle's home wasn't anything like he had expected; he had half thought to see a stately Victorian mansion of sorts, with cobwebs and a murderous ghost or two. Instead, it was a homely sort of structure, with salmon pink walls and dark wooden paneling, complemented with rattan peacock chairs and wicker furniture and thriving potted plants. And yet, it felt strangely unlived in, as well – hollowed and impersonal. Harry ran his hand over the plastic wrap around the couches, lips pursing in thought. Riddle was already breakfasting in the kitchen, his gloved hands tapping against the formica counter as he efficiently scanned the morning paper. The glass tiled backsplash danced prisms of light across his handsome face. Harry gawped at the assortment of food in front of them. Had Riddle cooked it all himself? He tried to envision it: Riddle efficiently flipping an egg, as perfect at it as he was at everything, the heat from the fire adding a flush to his high cheekbones, a apron knotted tight against his tapered waist– Harry slammed hip-first into the counter, sending an assortment of cutlery straight to the floor. He let out a curse, scrabbling after a somersaulting fork. “Causing this much chaos this early in the morning,” Riddle intoned, not looking up from his paper. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Harry grimaced, and hurried to fill his plate with kippers and eggs. He really needed to pull himself together; it was only his first day here and his mind was already on the verge of sailing out to sea.

[benkyoutobentou]

How to study languages without studying

Whether you're just starting out and have had bad experiences with textbook learning in the past or are getting burnt out from prepping for the next proficiency test, it's never a bad idea to put the textbooks away for a time and just enjoy your target language. If you're new to the world of immersion, here are a few ways to get you started.

Follow along with the lyrics of a song. Spotify's not-so-new-anymore lyrics feature is great for this, especially since it has timed lyrics, but it doesn't have every song.

Expert mode: Write out the lyrics and underline/highlight/make note of all the words and grammar structures you don't know. Learn these unknowns until you can understand the whole song!

Extra challenge: Translate a song from your target language. I usually tend to stay away from translations in my study, but for those of you who aspire to be translators (or already are!), the poetic nature of song lyrics can be a fun challenge.

Watch a show or movie. Netflix has now introduced a feature where you can sort by language! If there's nothing made in your language that you're interested in, it also gives the option to sort by shows and movies that have the audio or subtitles available. Internet Archive also tends to have lots of foreign films that I'm looking for.

Easy mode: Watch with English or your native language subtitles. When doing this, try to still listen to what's being said and pick up on words and phrases that you know, or match new words with their translation in the subtitles. Note: reading one language and listening to another is a skill in and of itself! Don't be discouraged if you can't do both at the same time yet, you're brain is still making the connections in intonation and cadence of the language.

Hard mode: Watch with captions in your target language. This helps you connect listening and reading, especially in languages where the spelling isn't exactly phonetic, or it uses a different alphabet than what you're used to.

Expert mode: No captions or subtitles! But who knows, maybe you're better at listening comprehension than I am. Make sure you're getting comprehensible input here; some shows and movies are much harder than others. But above all else, watch what keeps your interest. A movie where you can catch half the dialogue but is super engaging is better for you than an "easy" movie that you're going to spend your time ignoring.

Polyglot mode?: Watch something in your target language with subtitles in a different target language. This adds just one too many layers of obfuscation for me, but if you're into the challenge, more power to you.

Watch YouTube. You can change your language preference on YouTube, and with that, the Explore section will give you recommendations in your target language. Going into the trending tab with your target language can give you a good idea about what people are interested in in the countries where your target language is spoken.

Read something. It can be a book, it can be a comic. There are plenty of webcomics out there in a number of languages! There's also probably an English language listicle with recommendations of easier to understand webcomics for learners, too.

If you're just getting started in immersion, you can choose whether you focus on intensive reading or extensive reading (this actually goes for all kinds of immersion, but is easiest to control with reading since it happens at your own pace). Intensive reading is reading with the goal of understanding everything 100%. If you don't understand a word, or a grammar point, or the reading of a character, look it up. Extensive reading is reading just to get the gist of things. Look up words and grammar points only if they stop you from understanding the general meaning of the sentence or section. And of course, the more you immerse, the less you'll have to look things up, but remember that difficulty varies between materials, even within books of the same age range, genre, and medium.

A small digression: If you decide that you never want to open a textbook on your language learning journey, more power to you! It can be done and I know people who have gotten to proficient levels of their target language without textbooks. If you want this to be you, extensive immersion is your best friend. You also might want to get comfortable with the flashcard program anki, because, if this is your goal, all those unknown grammar points and words will probably end up there. But at the end of the day, language learning is an intensely personal journey, and what works for others won't necessarily work for you. Finding what works for you is just part of learning a language.

Play a game. Lots of games are region locked (hint: Pokemon Sun/Moon isn't! If you start a new game, you can choose which language you want to play it in), but there are plenty of free online games still lurking in the corners of the internet. With a bit of googling, you can probably find something in your target language. Just the other day, I went out to find one of those hidden item games in Japanese and ended up finding an entire site dedicated to user made browser games.

If you're learning Japanese or Korean, picrew might be fun to look through as well. I noticed that plenty of picrews have basic anatomy vocabulary. I'm not super familiar with picrew myself, but the ones I've seen tend to be in Korean and Japanese

And lastly, don't fully give up on textbooks before trying them out. Don't be discouraged if textbooks truly aren't your thing, but studying a language on your own time can feel much different than studying for school. Don't put too much pressure on yourself and just have fun with your language. Additionally, if you'd rather learn in a video format, many languages have full courses uploaded to YouTube for you to try. Finding these can be difficult for some languages though, so don't hesitate to reach out to other learners and see what they recommend!

Got your materials ready? Great! Now go forth and immerse!

[convexicalcrow]

The soft swish of the straw bristles was the only sound Cub could hear as he swept the stairs at the front of the Great House. Being outside insulated him from the sounds of the rest of the staff inside, and the drive was-

The sudden sound of a carriage speeding towards him startled him, and he stepped back against the front door as the carriage careened around and pulled to a stop. The window of the door facing him opened, and a familiar face poked out, leaning out of the door.

"Hello, you there, maid, is the Lady of the House in attendance? Sir Ren and Sir Cleo would love to see her!" Sir Ren said. Raucous laughter accompanied his words from his companion hidden in the shadow on the far side. "We have thus returneth from the wonderful country of Francia and wish to regail her with all that we have seen and experienced! We have much news from our dearest friends to pass on!"

Cub approached the carriage and bowed. "I'm sorry, Sir Ren, my Lady is out at luncheon. She will be home later. I will make sure she knows you called by."

Sir Ren slapped the door. "Drat! Ah, we have been too hurried from the docks! Nevermind! Do tell her we called by, and we shall come to see her soon!"

"I will, sir, of course," Cub said. He stood back, trying not to think about all the gravel he'd have to neaten up. "Have a safe journey!"

"We will, miladdy!" Sir Ren turned to the driver. "Alright, me hand! To the Castle Dogwarts! As fast as the horses will travel! Quickly, boy, we must eat, we are famished!"

"I'm on it, my Lord," intoned the driver and spurred the horses. They set off at a similar pace as the one they arrived in, and soon they had disappeared, off to their own places.

Cub sighed, now allowing him to see how much gravel had spilled onto the porch, and knew he'd have to go get the rake to tidy it all up.

"But first, I should tell the butler. He'll appreciate a head's up, the way he worries about everything," Cub said and headed inside.

-

Cub found the butler in his office, head buried in a stack of paperwork. He didn't look like he was particularly in the mood to be disturbed, but well, he would appreciate it even less if guests turned up out of nowhere when there had been a warning, so he knocked carefully and waited to be greeted.

It took a moment before he looked up, surprised to see him. "Cub! Oh! Is something the matter?" said the butler.

"We've just been visited by Sir Ren and Sir Cleo, they've returned from France. They wanted to know if Lady False was at home. I told them she wasn't, and they said they would be back later. I thought you would prefer knowing sooner rather than later," Cub said.

"Oh, god. Sir Ren! You know, the parties here have been very peaceful while he was away! Oh, geez. We'll need more food. Oh, god, we'll need more food! Oh, uh, thank you for letting me know. I'll- er, leave it with me, yes! I'll sort it out. Go back to- what were you doing again?" the butler said, getting to his feet.

"Sweeping the front porch, sir," Cub said.

"Yes, yes, go back to that, yes. Of course. We'll need the good linens, and the good glassware for sure, she will want to present the best for them, of course..."

The butler muttered to himself as he passed by Cub, leaving him alone in his office. Cub shrugged and returned to his work, knowing the work still needed to be done. He took a detour through the garden to grab a rake from the shed. Honestly, the way that man drives a carriage....

-

Cub was grateful for the prolonged peace he was given. He was able to sweep up all the leaves and litter that had gathered at the steps and by the door in last night's windstorm, and all the gravel had been swept back onto the driveway. The garden wasn't his area, so he left the rest for the gardener to bother with. He did give the bell by the door a polish though, just to make sure it was sparkling and working properly.

Just as he returned from putting the broom and rake away, heading back to the front door, he saw Lady False waiting for him impatiently. He curtseyed and bowed his head a little. She was definitely home early, unless he'd lost track of time, of course.

"My lady," Cub said.

"You finished yet? I need that silver polished! Now, if you please!" she said, before returning to the house, not bothering to wait for an answer.

"Yes, my Lady," Cub murmured.

-

To be fair, the silver did need polishing today anyway, so he got to work. Mr Butler would appreciate the job being done if they were expecting guests. Which reminded him, he hadn't had a chance to tell Lady False about their visitors. And that's when he glanced at his pocket watch, and noticed it was definitely far too early for Lady False to have returned. Also he had been outside all morning. Where was her carriage? Where were the horses?

"Cub? Are you okay?"

The butler's voice shook Cub out of his thoughts. "Oh, uh, yeah, I'm fine. Hey, Lady False did go out this morning, correct? And she has not returned yet?"

"As far as I know, she is still in town. Why? Have you been sniffing the polish too closely again?" the butler said.

"No! It's not that, I promise. I just- she came out and told me to polish the silver? I just didn't realise how early it was at the time. So she's not home yet? Then who did I speak to?" Cub said.

"Mate, I don't even know. But you look awfully pale. I think you need some rest. Go, take your lunch break. Have a nap, maybe? I'll hold down the fort. Er, cas-, hou-Great House. Yeah!" the butler said. "Is it a great house or a Great House? In what way is it a Great House?"

Cub didn't know how to answer him, but he put down the polish and cloth, and went to have his lunch. Maybe he was right. Maybe he was just- the polish was pretty potent if he got too much of it in the back of his nose. Maybe it was that.

-

Cub pushed it aside. It was break time. He washed his hands twice, just to get all the stench of the polish off his hands. Then he sat down to eat. No one else was on break at the moment, so he had the kitchen to himself. He hadn't been sleeping well lately. Maybe he was just too tired. Maybe that was it. Yeah.

-

Cub did end up napping in his room. The tiredness was getting to him, but he felt better as soon as he lay down. He just hoped he would not sleep for too long. There was still so much work to do.

-

"...Has he not been well today? He looked fine this morning when I left."

"No, my Lady, he looked pale as a ghost when I found him polishing the silver. I sent him to rest. I'm glad he did so."

"Hmm. Okay. Send for the doctor, just in case he's got something nasty."

"At once, my Lady. Should I wake him?"

"No, let him sleep. He looks like he deserves it."

"Of course, my Lady."

-

Cub wondered how late it must be if he could hear their voices. He inhaled deeply and shifted in bed, letting consciousness return to him. As he rolled over, he saw that his bedroom door was open. It took him a moment to realise she was standing in the doorway, but then he blinked again, and she was gone.

He felt warm all of a sudden, and closed his eyes again. Yeah, he was definitely over-tired. Right? If he was seeing things? That must be it.

-

It certainly seemed to be it. The doctor checked him over, and could find nothing wrong with him. The extra sleep had made him feel better, and he got on with the work of preparing for their guests. He was too busy and not paid enough to worry about who had told him to go polish the silver. It didn't matter. All that mattered was that everything was set up for the dinner party tonight, and with Mr Butler in a tizz, his anxiety wore off on them all, and it was all Cub could think about as he finished the silver and set the table.

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

It's all in the side notes

I can’t believe why is not painfully obvious for everybody else too, it's like everyone notices everything around it except this huge elephant in the Sydcarmy room.

Let me explain:

The side notes on the script are what the actors play, not just the script itself. The subtexts, the nuances, the silences, all of that is indicated by the director and rehearsed over and over before shooting at least 2 takes of every single scene.

02X01 was about teamwork towards The Bear's opening, that's why the director opened and closed the ep with that, to make that point. The side notes were all about playing every single scene with a SOU, fast-paced dialogues, etc, because every second counts and that's why a clock was ticking on pretty much every scene.

When 02x02 ends with a close-up of Claire smiling after Carmy gives her the wrong number, that´s not the point the director tried to make, but that Carmy TOOK HIS FUCKING TIME in giving her the wrong number, he almost gave it to her in slow motion, meaning that as he was giving it to her he was deciding what he eventually ended up doing with the last digit. He was on the fence the whole time and ended up deciding to "cut her off politely" in a very Carmy way. That was a side note in the script (the speech rate and the "decide as you go", and "be doubtful first" part).

In 02x03, the Sydcarmy vs Clairmy battle really began and it continued throughout the whole S2, all side notes because the script was barely obvious about Claire until he said: "I have to call my GF" after passing the gas inspection. Notice a pattern here? Or is it just me?

02X04 was mostly focused on Marcus in Copenhagen and introduced us to Chef Luca, raising the question, on purpose leaving it as an unanswered question - that will probably be answered in S3- on whether Luca was talking about Carmy when he was talking about a chef that was way better than him and that inspired him to become the chef he is today and up his game as much as he could. In other words: Not Sydcarmy material. Except we buy into the whole SydMarcus shipping they tried to insinuate with the Facetime call, which I won't get into because I feel dirty even typing about it. How dare they? Is it because they are both black? WTF?!! Well, my point is this is probably the least Sydcarmy episode of the season and we need to make a mental note about who directed it.

02x05 This episode's arc is all about the script's side notes: "Who's Claire? / I'm saying goodnight!" is all about the intonation, not the actual words. This is the bridge of the whole Sydcarmy song, that's why it's mid-season. Notice something? I have...

02x06 The masterpiece, it's all about the side notes but again, super non Sydcarmy, it's just supposed to show us The Berzatto's background story so Syd is not part of the equation. Claire is, in a way that will later make a lot more sense during Omelette's panic attack, of course.

02x07 AKA: My favest, is also a non-Sydcarmy kinda ep. Is all about Cousin's arc. BTW: I 100% ship these 2 and I hope S3 brings more RichJess fluff and stuff:

02X08 is all about the side notes again and takes us right back into SydCarmy vs Clairmy territory. Carmy had to call his new GF after passing the inspection to give her the good news.

02x09 I shouldn't even have to say a damn thing about this ep. Other than pointing out the obvious: IT'S THE MOST SYDCARMY EP OF THE WHOLE FUCKING SEASON, TYVM!

All I'm gonna add is that Carmy is laying awake after having sex with her:

I already talked about the common blue light in this scene here.

I'm not even gonna get into his panic attack. I mean... Do I have to? Seriously?

Anyway...

Storer finally joined the ship Calo was sailing since the beginning of the season here and all the side notes in this script are HIS.

The cinematography is his, the music is his, and every line, because he co-wrote it with Sydcarmy CEO: Joanna Calo herself.

And so we arrive to 02X10 where Sydcarmy is eaten alive by The Bear but ironically enough the one who doesn't survive is the Clairmy team LMAO! Sydcarmy on the other hand keeps going strong (Ayo was promoted to co-star for a reason, she's no longer part of the cast, she's the female lead of the show now) and in S3 we'll get to see how exactly will that play out.

My point is: The director and then the editors in the ER with the EP's sign-off can change what the writers write if they choose to and the actors have to perform the side notes according to the director's instructions.

In this case, since Storer joined the Calo Sydcarmy ship as I previously mentioned and usually they co-write and always co-produce the seasons those scripts, side notes, musicalizations and editions ARE ALL THEIRS. Every time Calo touches something, she turns it into Sydcarmy gold, and Storer and her are on the same page. That's why most Sydcarmy eps of the season were hers or his or directed by both.

June can't get here soon enough.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[thezombieprostitute]

Lloyd's Valentine

Based on this post. Thanks for the idea @alicedopey! I couldn't get it out of my head!

It's been a rough few months but you're finally hitting your stride at your new job. New job, new life, new everything. You had to leave your old life behind when you witnessed Lloyd at his work. He wasn't who you thought he was. He was dangerous so you ran. It's taken some time but you're finally getting to a good place in your new life.

The phone at your desk rings and you answer it with the scripted response. You hear a familiar chuckle and your blood runs cold.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Pumpkin," the voice says before the line goes dead.

Your head starts swimming. You think you should run, but maybe that's exactly what he wants, what he's expecting. Maybe you can stay inside and be safe? You have to leave eventually but if he doesn't know when you leave--

The building alarm cuts through your thoughts. A fire alarm? Fuck. Your boss walks through the cubicles letting everyone know to be calm, but move quickly out of the building as there was a bomb threat.

Shit, you think. A fire alarm would be quickly found out to be fake but a bomb threat in a building this big would take all day. You're not getting back inside any time soon.

You try to stay with a group of coworkers. You barely know them but right now they're your biggest protection. Everyone else is looking at the building, making small talk, but your eyes are on our surroundings. Everyone is given the all clear to go home for the day and you try to keep pace with everyone else getting into their cars.

A car pulls up alongside your small group. The window rolls down and you see that arrogant, mustachioed man smiling at you. "Pumpkin," he calls out, "come on in, I'll give you a ride!"

"I...I brought my own car. Thanks anyways."

"Pumpkin," he intones. "Be a good girl and get in the car."

You realize that he's stopped you long enough that you've been left behind by the other people. There's no one to hide behind, no security of any kind. You fight the urge to cry and get in the car.

"Good girl," he purrs as you buckle your seat belt. "You know, I was really hurt when I found out you'd left me." You keep your head down, knowing that nothing you can say will help you. "I really thought we had something good, you know?"

He drives out of the parking lot as he continues to talk. "I really thought we could've made it, Pumpkin. But then you go and break my heart. I shouldn't have given you a second thought but, I also couldn't just let you hurt me like that." You gulp, thinking about the bloody, violent scene that had scared you away.

"But, when I saw you again, I just couldn't bring myself to do that." You look at him, confusion written all over your face. "It's Valentine's Day after all," he explains. "We should be doing all the stuff couples do. So I called in the bomb threat to make sure you'd have your day cleared to spend with me." He grins a Cheshire grin, "you're gonna spend all day apologizing for leaving me. Do you understand, Pumpkin?"

"Y-yes, Lloyd," you whisper.

"Good girl, Pumpkin. Good girl."

[treviso-nights]

wip wednesday (i am late lol)

thanks so much for tagging me bb <3 @galluslonging. i have been dragging my feet with my enemies-to-lovers solrook fic but i actually just finished a draft of the next chapter so ur keeping me accountable and ily for that

i'm tagging everyone! and specifically @elf-trash, @dalish-rogue, & @frecklef0x

Sighing, she leans back on her hands, tilting her exposed throat to either side as she stretches the muscles there. “All right, Solas. Tell me something, then.” Another quirk of his eyebrow belies Solas’s curiosity. “I stand a good chance of dying at Weisshaupt,” Rook clarifies, her intonation flat and even. “Tell me something that’s not a lie. Something no one else knows.” “How would you be able to trust anything I did choose to share?” Rook’s easy grin is another strange and oddly placed gesture. “I’m a Crow. I’ll know if it’s the truth.” Her grin widens when Solas swallows, folding each arm over his chest. “Is that so?” “It’s so.” The thrill of victory trails its fingers across her skin as Solas begins to pace once more. She leaves him to his thoughts, wondering if she actually is capable of discerning the truth when it comes to the Dread Wolf. How does one detect the lie of an entity thousands of years older than she? After all of this time, is there anything honest still left inside him? How long does one have to live for until everything inside them turns to stone?

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Sum of All 7

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of crime, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: mob!Steve Rogers

Part of the mob drabbles au

Summary: you are given an unexpected assignment.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

The two weeks since you gave notice fly by. You’re almost buzzing with excitement. Once the day is through, you’re free. Well, free to finish packing and spend your last night in your apartment before your new chapter. 

The change couldn’t come at a better time. It’s best you get out of the city after your brush with danger. Back on the straight and narrow. For once, things are going according to plan. 

You’re barely focused on work. You have everything wrapped up and ready for the next poor soul. Brenner’s not bothered. He just sits at his desk, watching those videos that reflect in his framed certification. You try your best not to look. 

All you can think of is packing up at the rest of the day and never looking back. This new job is everything you ever wanted. And the interview was great. They seemed great and the culture was more than a slimy boss and elderly secretary knitting by the door. 

As if on cue, Geraldine squawks a greeting as the door open. You flinch and look over as she preens, “why hello, sir. Back again?” 

You don’t get too many walk-ins. You turn and your eyes bulge as Rogers lets the door close behind him. He wears a dark blue suit with a matching tie. His hair looks even longer than before, his beard thicker. It’s been barely a month but it feels like longer. 

You turn to your desk and click around your screen. Remember what he said. As far as you’re concerned, he’s a stranger. 

So why is he walking towards your desk. Brenner clears his throat and stands, his mouse bouncing off his keyboard as he scrambles. You swallow dryly and keep your head down. 

“Mr. Rogers, sir, what can we do for you this time?” 

“Got another job.” Rogers intones. 

“Sure, uh, we’re a bit short-handed but--” 

“Her,” Rogers stops beside your desk and taps the corner. “Come on.” 

You flinch and look up at him in dread. You frown. You’re confused. He told you to forget and you did your best to do just that. 

“Right, er,” you sniff and twine your fingers together to keep from fidgeting. “Happily, er, sir, but the thing is, it’s my last day. Tomorrow--” 

“I’m not asking. Come on.” 

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate. He sounds angry. You know what happens when he’s mad. The thought makes you light-headed. “Well, I’m moving out-of-town so--” 

“Get up,” he demands as he shifts towards you, reaching over your shoulder to grip the back of your chair. “Important work to do.” 

“Go on,” Brenner says, “help out Mr. Rogers.” 

Rogers’ icy blue eyes flick up to the other man and narrow. A warning. I don’t need your help. He pushes away from you and the chair rocks dangerously. Back to square one. Back to an angry dog bristling for a fight. 

“Sure, sure,” you show your palms then slowly pivot. 

You gather up your briefcase and check that all the drawers are empty. You wonder if maybe you’re taking so long but you really don’t want to come back here after whatever trouble this man has in store. You get up with your bag in hand. 

Rogers turns without a word and strides across the office. You follow. You catch up to him outside as he holds the door for you. As you try to keep pace with him, you muster all your courage. 

“I hope this is a short job, I have aa moving truck--” 

“I’m not negotiating.” 

“Alright,” you accept with a squeak. 

It’s all too familiar. There’s no explanation. Just blunt orders and tense silences. He opens the passenger door of his black car and you get in. He goes around the driver’s side and turns the engine. 

“Whatever job you took, won’t pay as much as this one so let’s stop with that,” he says. 

You blink. This can’t be happening. You had it all figured out. You’re done with criminals and Mr. Brenner and all of this. You frown. You feel his gaze in the mirror. He sighs. 

“We gotta go outta town. I need someone who can do numbers.” 

“Outta town?” You murmur. 

“Sounds like you’re already packed and ready to go, so we’ll drop by to grab some stuff and head off. No time to waste--” 

“What? I... but...” you stammer. 

You snap your mouth shut as you sense his roiling irritation. Oh, oh no. You know what this is. Too good to be true which means it’s all falling down around you. ‘Out of town?’ You know what that means. 

Your head bobbles as your breath burns in your chest. You grab at the door handle and whine, “please, don’t. Please, let me out. I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t--” 

“Hey, stop that,” he grabs your shoulder and pulls you back against the seat, steering with his other hand. “You’re going to get hurt--” 

“You’re going to hurt me?” You squeal and your eyes roll back into a fog. 

You feel the lurch of the car before you plunge fully into the darkness. It’s like blinking. You wake up against the seat. He’s still driving. You don’t recognise your surroundings. 

“No!” You erupt back into consciousness. “No! Why are you doing this? I promised! I didn’t talk to anyone, sir! I didn’t. I’m leaving town and--” 

“Calm down,” he grits over the wheel. 

“No! No! If you’re going to kill me, then I’m not going down easy,” you insist, “I’m going to--” 

The world turns gray again and you hit the door with a thunk. You sink again into your vacant mind. A shift in motion wakes you again. There’s music playing. 

“Am I dead yet?” You ask groggily. 

He scoffs, “what’s gotten into you? I told ya, we got a job.” 

“We? Job?” You sputter. “You know, I know what ‘out of town’ is. I watched The Godfather. Boring but they were streaming it...” 

“Huh? Godfather? No, no, look, I don’t kill people I can use,” he says plainly. 

“Oh... that’s not reassuring,” you utter. 

He lets out another long breath. Yours starts to pick up again. You brace the door. 

“Damnit, don’t you pass out again,” he demands. “I know you kept your promise. That’s why I chose you. This is an important job. Diplomatic. I can’t risk someone who might flip and I know you’re not going to do any of that. Because I know you don’t want to do any of this.” 

You consider his words. You clutch your head, “fair.” 

“Are you good? I got some water,” he points to the bottle in the plastic holder by the console. 

“I... I won’t...” you inhale deeply. “I just—you said we were done.” 

“Shit happens,” he shrugs. 

“And I’m just along for the ride,” you mumble. 

He snorts and shakes his head, “guess so.” 

[00127am]

CHAPTER TWO : correction -- apartment nemesis

@ noisecomplaint ln yn isn't too fond of apartment living, between the occasional roaches and the person who keeps stealing her grocery deliveries. but especially because of her exceptionally loud next door neighbors whom she has decided: she cannot stand. it's not all bad though, certainly not when xiao dejun (the prettiest boy she's ever seen) lives in the building. well, it was a perk. until it's revealed that him and her next door neighbor are one in the same.

Despite the text about the knocking, Ten (or whoever Ten sent) doesn’t stop. Instead, they increase the pace and overall volume of said knocking to an extent where Xiaojun fears his neighbors are going to come out with all the racket. It’s for this reason that he swings the door open with a scowl and furrowed brows, a scathingly mean comment on the tip of his tongue. Until it’s not.

You’re certainly not Ten. 

He’s seen you around from a distance. Never gotten close enough to actually look at you. But he’s known that you’re pretty for quite a while. Just a feeling, something he assumed based on the back of your figure and the fleeting glimpses of your side profile that he replayed in his head until the memory got murky and the small details forgotten. But now that you’re standing right in front of him, less than a foot away, Xiaojun can positively confirm his assumption. You make his breath catch right in his throat and his head spin, though he guesses that could just be the brewing headache from your incessant knocking. On second thought, no… definitely you. 

He doesn’t have the first idea of what would bring his pretty next door neighbor to his door. Or at least, no rational ideas. In fact, Xiao Dejun is running through each and every rom com meet cute he knows, every delusional fantasy, every-

“Music,” 

It takes him a moment to recover from your interruption, eyes pulling into a squint as he studies your face. He has absolutely no idea what you just said, so caught up in his internal monologue that any words from you were lost in the ringing of his ears. Is it possible to get tinnitus from seeing a beautiful girl? 

With what seems to be a lack of understanding and what is a lack of an answer, you sigh. It’s an exasperated sound, light and airy, accompanied by the bite of your inner cheek. You avert your gaze for the first time, looking past him as you recompose yourself with an exaggerated blink of your… what color were they? God, they’re pretty. Everything about you is pretty. Xiaojun needs a new adjective, he fears he’s going to run this one dry. But before he can come up with one, you interrupt for a second time. 

“Your music,” you raise a brow as you swallow back your annoyed tone, it doesn’t work as well as you hope it does, words coming out pointed and sharp, “It’s too loud,” 

“Oh,” is the only response that escapes him, a pang of disappointment resonating through the ending intonation of the word. It only causes your expression to sour, eyes narrowing and lips quirking downwards into the hint of a frown. 

“Oh?” you echo, lips parted in a reflection of incredulity that matches your tone, “Turn it down,” 

Irritation at Xiaojun shouldn’t be a good look on you. But it is. Really is. To the point that he wouldn’t mind seeing it on you again. Though he doesn’t think that that would be a hard feat to achieve, not with the way you're glaring at him right now. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he replies, clearing his throat and tilting his head to the side, “I’ll turn it down,” 

And with that you’ve spun around on your heels, a muffled ‘thanks’ falling from your tongue as you walk back to your front door, opening it, and shutting it with a bang. If there is a higher power, you must have wronged them in your past life. Committed some unforgivable offense that has granted you nothing but bad luck in this life when it comes to people like Xiaojun. Xiao Dejun who must have been a fucking saint to get reincarnated looking like that. A boy so pretty that your knees felt weak and your vision blurred, or perhaps that was the effects of an underlying medical condition… no, probably him. Definitely him. Because even the sound of him shutting his front door brings a heat to your face, much to your aggravation, recollecting every infuriating detail of your interaction (and his face). 

It’s too bad he’s an inconsiderate asshole, or else he would totally be your type.

The first thing Xiaojun hears when he answers Ten’s call is laughter. Laughter that is accompanied with a shaky camera that can only capture the blurred, out of frame angle of his head tilted back and the hazy mane of his blonde hair. A sound that is only interrupted by the low grumble of Xiaojun who’s expression has warped into one of utter and complete disdain. 

“What’s so funny?” 

He knows he shouldn't have asked because Ten only laughs harder at the proposed question, phone falling presumingly out of his hands and flat onto the couch where Xiaojun now stares, annoyed, at the ceiling. He can catch the end of a wheezed exhale, followed only by a few more moments of giggling as the older man attempts to compose himself. 

“Have you,” another snicker as Ten picks up the camera and bites back a laugh as he clears his throat (an endeavor which does not push back the laughter as well as he hopes), “Have you even looked at yourself in the camera?” 

Xiaojun wrinkles his nose at the notion, already knowing the implication of his words. It’s a reluctant shift of his gaze to the small mirror of his reflection on the right side of the screen where he squints before clicking on it to enlarge the features of his face. And he’s greeted with the usual and expected tensed echo of his countenance. 

Except for the fact that his typically porcelain skin is painted a bright red. A blush that fills the full of his cheeks and traces an endearing hand to the shape of his ears before then, traveling downwards, pressing vibrant kisses to the flesh of his neck. And if that wasn’t bad enough, his eyes are blown ever-so-slightly wide, pupils an unusual proportion and consuming a majority of his dark brown irises. The realization of his flustered appearance only forced further heat to rise to his face as he gulps, audibly, much to the delight of Ten. 

He’s so screwed.

taglist. @replayenthusiast @ahnneyong thank for you for supporting noise complaint! ♡

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🧾 © 00127am 2024

[ramp-it-up]

Bar All Else

Pairing: Barkeep!Andy Barber x Reader x Barkeep! Frank (Endings, Beginnings)

Summary: Its Endgame for you three.

Part 12 of The Bar AU. This happens right after Good Morning.

Word count: 5K

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. S/MUT! Read at your own risk. This has Everything: Angst, fluff, family holiday, coming out, polyamory, mlm. PWP, digital p, double p, anal, extreme oral, boys kissing, degradation kink, fun in the shower, praise kink, proposal in a home under construction (I had to do it.)

A/N: Please heed the warnings. Remember, feedback is gold. Let me know what you think!

I no longer have a tag list. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

The next morning, afternoon really, Andy and Frank somehow untangled themselves from you and were busy in the kitchen, making food that smelled divine. You sat up, stretched, and smiled, your body deliciously sore from the night’s, and morning’s activities.

Your heart skipped a beat at the thoughts running through your mind as you heard their soft murmuring from the other room. They were trying not to wake you, even though it was one o’clock in the afternoon. 

Doubts plagued your mind. Could you actually have both of them, could you be committed to two men? Did they really want a future with you, or just sex?

You chewed your lip and began to overthink as you took a quick shower and dressed in one of Andy’s flannels. You caught Frank and Andy smiling at each other over coffee as you padded into the kitchen.

“...Morning…”

Your voice was timid, shy even, and as they looked over and took you in, you were blushing as if you three hadn’t shared the most intimate acts a few hours ago.

“Good morning, Baby Doll.” 

Frank smiled at you and moved to come and kiss you on your forehead. You smiled up at him, basking in the warmth he gave you. Andy took you in wearing his shirt and in Frank’s arms, and his heart picked up pace.

How could a sight be more perfect? He moved toward you.

“Morning, Sweetheart. Did you rest well?”

You embraced Andy with your other arm, beaming up at him. 

“I slept like a rock. I was tired out for some reason.”

You winked up at him and smirked at Frank, realizing that this situation was definitely really happening.

“Hmmmm.”

Andy took your shoulders in his hands and looked at your face, concerned, as Frank moved to dish up the food.

“Are you alright? We didn’t hurt you, did we?”

Andy was terrified at this moment. You saw the fear in his eyes and stood on tiptoe to peck his lips.

“I feel divine, well used, and satisfied. For now. Daddy.”

Andy exhaled and pulled you into him, eyes darkening. You could feel him thicken through his sweatpants.

“And we aim to keep you that way…”

Andy stared down at you, thinking that you really were a goddess. 

Frank cleared his throat behind you. 

“But first, let’s eat.” 

You raised your eyebrow over your shoulder at your other lover.

“Food, Baby Doll,” Frank intoned.

You giggled as Andy swept you off your feet and onto a barstool.

“What do you want, Baby Doll? An omelet, or French toast with bacon?”

You looked between the two men, eyes twinkling.

“Who says I can’t have both?”

You spent the lazy Sunday afternoon watching movies and pretending the outside world didn’t exist. Frank and Andy lavished attention, food, and water on you, making sure that you were alright. They didn’t want you to bolt again. You sensed their anxiety.

But you couldn’t stay in denial all day.

Andy was reading with your head in his lap, and Frank was massaging your feet at 7:02 pm as you scrolled your phone you let them have the truth.

“Guys…”

They both looked at you.

“I gotta go home. I have to go to work in the morning.”

Frank’s face fell and you looked up to see that Andy’s mirrored his. You sat up.

“I know. It’s been a beautiful weekend, but if I stay here, I would never want to leave. And we all have jobs. Time to go back to the real world.”

“This could be the real world, Baby Doll…”

You cocked your head at Frank and Andy spoke before you could ask your question.

“What he means is that we’d like to book you every Saturday night for the foreseeable future, Sweetheart.”

Andy and Frank shared a look as your heart melted. 

“And maybe a couple of nights during the week?”

Frank’s voice was hopeful. You thought this was going fast, but hell, you had wasted enough time. You smiled at them. 

“That sounds real nice.”

Your heart warmed as both of your men kissed you on the cheek. It was so pure. You all stood up they watched as you went into the bedroom to grab some of Andy’s sweats and the rest of your things. They had their heads together when you came out, but stopped and led the way to take you home. This time, when they took you home, you let them into your small apartment and it seemed that they filled up every available space. It was after 8 pm and you already felt lonely, although they were still there.

“I have something to tell you.”

Frank stood up straight, and Andy clenched his jaw, as if they were bracing form something. You were glad that you’d waited until you got home, or they would not have let you leave.

“I love you. I love you both.”

You felt hands on your waist, pulling you between them in your small living room. You peered into the ocean blue eyes in front of you.

“Say it again. Say that you love me.”

“I love you Frank.” 

You smiled up at him, realizing it was the first time.

“Fuck, I love you too, Baby Doll.”

You kissed him, pressing your body full length against his. Andy was right there bedside you. You reached for him while you were kissing Frank. When Frank released you, you turned and kissed Andy.

“And I love you, Andy”

“Fuck, I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. You know that,”

You kissed Andy tenderly. Then you leaned against the doorframe to your bedroom as they stood on either side of you. You felt like a rabbit in a wolves’ den, about to be devoured. The tension was thick but no one moved.

“So, what’s the rest of your night look like?”

Andy’s voice was gruff as he eyed your small bed. His mind was whirling with possibilities. Frank’s warmth behind you had you weak. 

“I-I was going to take a nice, hot bath. And then go to bed. I usually get up at 6:30 to go to the gym, but…”

“You’ve had your workout already?”

Andy had that look in his eye. You gulped. Frank’s hands were on your arms as the goosebumps rose on your skin.

“It’s just the thought of you, wet in the bath, wet with sweat. I need your liquid on my tongue…”

Frank had a way with words, and his satin voice in your ear had you trembling.

“And we know you’re probably sore.. So you don’t have to if you don’t want to…”

Andy’s voice was a little bit desperate. As if he hadn’t had you and Frank a few hours before. He was insatiable.

“We just need to taste you again…see you cum…hear you tell us that you love us some more…” 

Frank was practically begging. You felt so powerful. You stepped away from them to catch your breath. You shook your head. These boys were dangerous, looking like every girl’s fantasy.

“Well. My bed is small. But my shower is pretty huge. And since I’m already wet… why don’t you join me?”

You said this as you left a trail of the clothes you were wearing on the floor. Andy and Frank followed suit, all three of you naked as you greedily reached for one another under the hot spray of your showerhead.

Andy and Frank left you softly snoring in your small double bed that night, satisfied that they had sufficiently put you to sleep. You dreamed of them all night long.

You awoke to the sweetest Good Morning texts from them in the group chat. Despite your physical reminder of the weekend’s activities, you felt amazing and ready to conquer the week.

Your friends at work only smiled and winked at you, all except for Tia, who wanted all the details. You told her a little, but not everything, and all of your people supported you. 

This really could be a thing, you thought.

For the next three weeks, you lived in a blissful bubble, dating Frank and Andy separately one night a week each, and going as far as heavy petting with each individually. You saved the good good for the weekend when you were all together, and it was only then that you let yourself fully succumb.

When the weekend before Thanksgiving rolled around, you felt guilty for having plans to go home.

“It’s okay, Baby Doll. It’s only for a few days.”

You looked at Andy across the room as Frank held you in his arms. From the way your bearded lover clenched his jaw, you knew he didn’t like it, but he’d never admit it.

“He’s right Sweetheart, you’ll be back in no time. Remember that we love you.”

“And I love you both, too.”

The train ride home gave you time to think. You actually felt like you were leaving your real family behind in Boston. You wanted Frank and Andy. For as long as they wanted you, and you weren’t ashamed of it. You had to tell your family because you weren’t going to hide.

At Thanksgiving dinner, you kept peeking at your phone and smiling into your lap. God, you missed your two sweethearts. You answered the question of who you were texting when your mother asked. It was a big hit at the dinner table. The room erupted into scandalized expressions of fear and hate, but your mother surprised you when she defended you.

“Shut the hell up! She’s a smart girl, I mean woman. I don’t think she would be with someone who didn’t treat her right, now would you?” 

You stared at the person you thought would kick you out of the house when you told her, a lump in your throat.

You shook your head and smiled. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“And two good men? Tuh.  Let me know if you find any more.”

Your mother winked at you and then asked for someone to pass the mashed potatoes. 

After a heart to heart while cleaning up the kitchen that night, you floated off to sleep on a cloud of hope and possibilities, and when you boarded the train back to Boston, you were excited for an unnamed reason. 

You were greeted at the train station by Andy and Frank.

“Hey Sweetheart.”

Andy smiled at you and gave you a chaste kiss and hug.

“Baby Doll!”

Frank gave you a bear hug and twirled you around before he put you down.

You told them you were exhausted from traveling and they offered to take you to Andy’s place, promising to just hold you and be good. You just smiled and nodded, wanting to spend time with them.

The fireplace was on and the guys had started putting up Christmas decorations, including a new buffalo plaid throw over the back of Andy’s huge couch.

“Well this is cozy!”

You murmured as you took your jacket and scarf off and revealed a low cut thin pink cashmere sweater and jeans. 

Frank noticed that you weren’t wearing a bra and Andy’s eyes went to the tight jeans. They gave each other a look.

You went to the kitchen island to get out the popcorn popper.

“Let’s watch a scary movie!”

Frank and Andy hung back, watching you and your body move in the kitchen. They whispered to each other, remembering that you were tired.

“She’s trying to kill us.”

“No question.”

“Be strong.”

“Yes.”

“What are you guys mumbling about?

You turned around with the bowl of popcorn, bringing some kernels to your mouth, that Ruby Woo making your lips pop, especially when you sucked the butter off your fingers.

“I’m gonna get thirsty. Got anything I can drink?”

You looked up at them with those tits in that sweater and those lips and…

“You want water or spirits?” 

Andy cleared his throat and moved behind the island.

“Mmmmmm. Water.”

“So fucking cute, Baby Doll.”

“Thank you Frank.”

You batted your eyes at him as Andy handed you the ice water. You grabbed it with a smile and a kiss on his cheek, then moved to the couch with your goodies. Frank looked at your lip prints on Andy’s jaw and his silly look on his face and was jealous for an instant.

Frank reclined on the sofa, toeing his shoes off and putting his feet up on the coffee table while Andy got the movie ready to go. You sat next on Frank, but upright.

Frank patted the cushion beside him.

”Don’t you want to relax, Baby Doll?” 

You smiled and just crossed your legs, indicating your pink high heeled boots. Frank’s kryptonite..

“My shoes. Don’t want to get the couch dirty.” 

Frank licked his lips and started sweating as Andy shook his head. Frank was on his knees in an instant.

“Let me.”

You smiled, leaned back arching your spine and presenting your foot. The action made your breasts poke through your sweater and Andy squirmed. Watching Frank slowly and delicately take your shoes off didn’t make his pants any looser.

Frank was now wearing his own silly grin as he took his place beside you and you scooted next to him, curling your feet under you.

Andy cleared his throat.

“Are we ready?”

You nodded and smiled at him. And then Frank. This felt so good. You were content, wedged between your darling men, until the jump scares started, and then you were frightened, turning and hiding your face in Frank’s shirt, leg thrown over his. Andy wasn’t mad, because at this point, you were giving him all the ass. He slid closer to you and Frank and placed the throw over all three of you. And you fell asleep between the two people who were very likely to be the loves of your life.

Andy and Frank took you to brunch the next day, and to look at the unfinished condo space next to The Bar. The energy changed as you walked into the unfinished space, and as you looked between them, you saw excitement dancing in their eyes. The smell of raw wood and plaster invaded your senses and your heart rate rose. You got excited as well for all of the potential around you.  They both watched you as you slowly turned around, taking in the structure, which was basically an open concept for the entire floor, except for a couple of rooms roughed out on one end.

“We have about another month to finish the drywall, painting, and finishes.”

“Wow! This would be a great space for entertaining!”

Andy and Frank gave each other a look before Andy spoke.

“That’s what we were thinking.” 

“We’d have a little bar, and a kitchenette over here to help with food, and then open space for a table and mingling. This would be the guest suite for visitors.” 

Andy motioned to the roughed-out rooms.

Your smile slipped a little.

“What?” 

Frank picked up on your cues so well.

“Well… It’s your space, I was just thinking…” 

You looked at them.

 “I’ll just shut up. That sounds nice.”

“No, Sweetheart, ‘d Love your input.”

Frank spoke up.

“Yeah. The woman’s touch.”

You smiled at them, grinning again. 

“Well, I think the kitchenette and bar should be over there, it will improve the flow and allow space for more seating over here.”

“That’s an amazing idea. And you’re absolutely right.”  

Andy looked at Frank.  

“Why didn’t we think of that?”

Frank smirked at him. “Because we’re idiots.”

“True.” 

Andy smiled at him and then held his hand out to you.

“Let’s look at the rest of the space.”

You smiled and took Andy’s hand and followed him up the stairs, with Frank trailing behind you.

You emerged into another open space, but with a wall of windows on one side.

“This will be the more informal living space, with a movie screen there with more comfortable seating,” Frank pointed to a blank wall, “and the chefs kitchen over there.”

“I like that, and then whoever is prepping food, or if both of you are prepping, you can still see the screen.  You will have shades, automatic, I hope?”  

You looked at Andy and Frank.

“Both of us prepping food?” 

Andy moved closer to you, coming behind you and clasping you around the waist, lowering his head to brush your neck with his lips. 

“So you will have us cooking for you all the time?”  

You allowed yourself to fall into his embrace and hummed, inhaling the spice of his cologne for a minute until you really heard what he’d said. You hadn’t realized that you had closed your eyes until you opened them to see Frank staring at you with a silly look on his face.

“Wait, what?”  

You turned out of Andy’s grasp as Frank went and stood beside him.

“Before you freak out, there’s another floor.” 

Frank grabbed your hand this time.

“But…”

He ignored you as he led you up the stairs. You three came out on the third floor which had several walls for rooms constructed. They led you through three rooms of about the same size with two rooms off of each, and then a fourth, larger than the rest, with one semi-large room connected to it.

“What is all this?” 

Your heart was beating fast at the implication of what was happening.

“These are bedrooms, three with closets and en suites, and one with just an en suite bathroom.”

Frank indicated the largest room. You looked at them and went in to inspect the large room. It had a huge window and the bathroom was a very good size.

“We want the largest bed they make in here,” Andy looked at you as he spoke.

“One big enough for three people,” Frank responded.

Your mouth dropped open.

“And in the bathroom, a huge jetted tub,” Frank continued.

“One big enough for three people.” Andy looked so sincere. 

You were floored.

“Ummmm. So four bedrooms for how many people?”

“Three. We figured that individuals might want your privacy at times. But there might be times when we’d all agree to be together.”  

Andy was definitely nervous now. But you thought about what he said about the big bed.

“So these three people might all sleep together, or sleep separately?”

“Or maybe two would sleep together if one wants to be alone?” 

Frank’s voice made you turn toward him. 

“We didn’t want anyone forced to be in a shared space.”

They thought of everything.

“Sounds like an interesting arrangement.” 

You went to the window and looked out over Boston Harbor. It would be a beautiful view to wake up to. And to do it in between two beautiful men would be an added bonus.

You heard Andy’s voice next.

“And when children come, we can get a house out in the country, with lots of land for them to run around.”

You gasped and turned back to them to see the space where they had been empty. You looked down to see Andy and Frank both down on one knee. 

“Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Your hands were up around your mouth, and you didn’t know if you were breathing. This couldn’t be what you thought it was.

“What exactly are you two asking me?”

Frank spoke next.

“When you went to spend the holiday with your family, we decided that we couldn’t let another come and go without telling you how much we both want a family with you.”

You looked away from Frank to Andy, whose eyes tried to hold yours, but you couldn’t get caught up. Your eyes darted around the unfinished room. Everything was happening so fast.

Andy, then Frank reached into their pockets and brought out two rings, seemingly odd pear shaped diamonds in gold bands.

“We know it seems like a short time since we got back together, but we wanted to do this last year.”

The men looked at each other, and then back at you. Then, in perfect tandem, they said:

“Y/N Y/LN, will you marry us?”

You mouth was hinged open as you stared at them.

“You are the woman of my dreams, Baby Doll.”

“I can’t imagine life without you, Sweetheart.”

The blood was rushing in your ears and you opened your mouth.

Suddenly everything stopped and you yelled, “Yes! Hell yes I will marry you!”

You were in shock at what you’d just said as Frank and Andy both picked you up. Then they put you down and placed both rings on your hand, Andy’s first, and then Frank’s.  When they were both on your hand, the two diamonds formed a heart. Suddenly, the view was blurry.

“Oh my gosh. Andy! Frank!”

You looked up at them with tears falling down your face.

“Is this really happening?”

“You bet your ass, Baby Doll.” 

Frank beamed down at you as he kissed you.

“Absolutely, Sweetheart. You’re stuck with us. Both.”

“For life,” you said, smiling at both your men. 

Suddenly the energy changed. 

“Let’s go back to my place. To celebrate. With champagne.”

The look on Andy’s face made you shiver as you remembered your last encounter with Moët in the storeroom. Frank remembered watching that encounter on the camera, and you thought of that as you looked at him, remembering his confessions you over the last few weeks.

“Let’s go.”

You were more than ready.

If you didn’t know any better, you would think that your men were trying to get you tipsy. You were on your third glass of bubbly while you admired your ring on the couch as both men’s hands were up your shirt and they marked up your neck. You giggled, until Frank thrust his hand down your jeans, parting the thick lips of your cunt as Andy took over teasing both breasts.

“Oh.. oooohhh. Yes, Daddy. Pinch them harder.”

You arched your back as Andy did as you requested and Frank thrust two fingers inside you. You rode Frank’s fingers as Andy leaned down to minister to your nipples, sucking and licking them with an urgency.

“Missed you while you were away. So much.”

“It was just a couple of days, Silly.”

You laughed at your serious fiancé.

“Any time away from you is an eternity, Baby Doll.”

Frank leaned up to kiss you while he fingered you, then pulled Andy’s head up to slip his tongue into his mouth.

You came on Frank’s hand as you watched the two men kiss. They pulled apart, panting and staring at each other. Then they turned their eyes on you. They stood up as you did and watched you take off your pullover and watched as you unbuttoned your jeans and peeled them down your legs, showing them your perfect bottom.

“Can I have you both?”

“What a question.”

Frank chuckled and started undressing, watching Andy stroke himself outside of his pants as he watched both you you.

“I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

Andy slowly undressed as he watched you reach for Frank to come around the back of the couch which you were facing. You leaned over and kitten licked his tip as the younger man threw his head back. Once naked, Andy came behind you and stroked your hair, running his hand down your spine, causing you to give him that arch. You looked behind you as you stroked Frank’s rigid cock.

“Stop teasing the man and give him your throat.”

You watched Andy get on his knees and start stroking himself as he parted your lips. Frank turned your head back around and painted your lips with his precum before shoving his cock in your mouth, filling your airway with his flesh. You moaned around him as Andy’s tongue licked you from clit to ass, inserting his tongue in every crevice. He played with your nub like taffy and had you, and by proxy Frank, on edge in no time.

You watched Andy and Frank on the bed kissing passionately. You got wet just watching them, it was so hot. Their cocks were so hard. Your heart started beating faster as you climbed on the bed, the kiss between them becoming a three-way. All three of your tongues met and danced. Soon, Andy and Frank broke away and their lips, tongues, and hands traveled to your neck, your ear, your breasts, or any sensitive part of your body that they knew so well. You knew you’d never experience such intense sensations than having these men’s hands and mouths on you.

Frank detached himself and lay back on the bed, his hard cock waving in the air. You moved to touch him, but he stopped you, grabbing your hand and pulling you up toward him.

“On my face Baby Doll. Need to taste you.”

Frank turned you around so that you faced his cock, and you climbed on carefully as he roughly pulled you down on his mouth. His tongue started doing unspeakable things to you and your eyes closed before they opened at the sound of another mouth slurping. You opened your eyes to see Andy licking and sucking Frank’s cock while staring at you. That powerful feeling returned and you took your nipples in your hand and teased them as you shivered on Frank’s lips and tongue.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Ride his face.”

You obeyed and pulled your nipples harder as you watched Andy cause Frank to moan into your cunt.

“How does it taste, Andy?”

He pulled off with a pop. 

“So good.”

Andy grinned at you.

“Wanna share?”

You smiled back and leaned over to tongue kiss Andy around Frank’s cock, causing him to come up for air and smack your ass as he groaned.

“Holy Fuck, that’s good!”

You start handling Frank’s balls and he started panting into your cunt.

“Fuck!”  

He breathed and went back in for more, inserting fingers to get what he wanted.

When you came on his tongue, Frank yelled at his own release, deep down Andy’s throat. After he recovered, he grabbed your ankle and pulled you to the edge of the bed, so that your ass was almost hanging off. He got behind you, took your legs and spread them wide, holding them open for Andy, who was panting and feral, watching the scene.

“Don’t just stare, Andrew!”

Andy took his cock and lined it up, looking up to watch your face as he slid in. He sheathed himself to hilt and you keened as you felt him pounding inside you.

“Oh Andyyyyyy!”

“Fuck! You got me about to come already. So gotdamn tight. Fits like a glove.”

He looked up at Frank.

“You don’t understand how good this feels…”

“The fuck I don’t. Feels amazing. Fucking you is a close second.”

You watched as Frank leaned over and grabbed Andy by the back of the neck and kissed him

“Fuckkkk!”

You moaned as your pussy got wetter at that sight and convulsed around Andy’s cock. He looked down at you, lips wet from the kiss.

“You like that?” 

Andy hissed as he started fucking into you slowly. Frank reached down and rubbed your nipples.

“You like to see your boys together?”

“Yesssss.”

Frank pulled Andy’s hair and kissed him again.

“Fuck. So hot.”

“Squeezing me like a vice, Sweetheart.”

“Make her cum on your cock, Baby.”

Frank held you down and open for Andy.

“I know how you like to run, so be a good girl and take it.”

Andy started snapping his hips harder, watching your face as Frank talked you through it, how you bit your lip when he twisted first one nipple, then the other. Before you knew it, Andy was pounding you ferociously as Frank spoke praise in your ear.

“Good girl, taking that pounding like a fucking champ. Your our cum hungry little cumslut, arent you? How bout you cum on Andy’s cock without anybody touching your clit, Beautiful Baby Doll. Then I can clean both of you up.”

“Oh Goddddddd!” 

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you exploded around Andy’s dick. Two sets of hands held you down to take it. Andy pounded you out and groaned as Frank did the same to him.

“Fuck, can’t… hold it.” 

“Give it to us, Baby. Soak that clit for me.

Andy pulled out and fisted himself over you, literally growling as he spurted all over your cunt. Your chest heaved as you and Frank both stuck your tongues out to catch some of Andy’s spend. 

“Suck a fucking good girl for us.”

Frank sucked the remaining cum off of Andy’s softening cock and then went to town on you as Andy rolled on his back beside you.

Andy looked at you and smiled at your half lidded eyes as Frank started feasting on your sloppy pussy.

He pulled your face toward him roughly.

“Look at me when our fiancé is eating you out.” 

His deep voice rumbled through you and met Frank’s moans as he lapped you up.

You whimpered, “Yes Daddy.”

Andy fondled your tits and then wrapped his hand around your throat at the same time Frank wrapped his lips around your clit to suck. It was insane how in sync they were.

Your back bowed as Frank sucked a massive orgasm out of you, and you swore you blacked out, because the next thing you knew, you were being lifted into the shower, and lovingly washed by two sets of hands. 

“I love you Frank. Love you Andy. I love you so much.”

“Love you too Baby Doll. Love you to the moon, Sweetheart. Now just relax.”

You were exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep between your future husbands, secure in the knowledge that barring anything, you would have love and security for the rest of your life.