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#he's no longer embarrassed to show all the efforts he does to try to make his dream a reality <3 i say that's my baby and i'm proud!!!!

alatusprinz · 2 years

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cute things they do + how they show their love

featuring : aether , albedo , itto , diluc , gorou , kazuha , kaeya , heizou , tighnari , xiao

Aether unconsciously stares at you with heart in his eyes. He never knows he's staring, and even he did it's not like he can control it. After all, how could he not when you're this... mesmerizing? His gaze would make you feel so loved, treasured and god, he adores you more than anything. He's never felt this way before, not when he experienced the birth and demise of countless stars, not when he first happened to fall upon this curious world full of adventures he never explicitly asked for. But good heavens, was it all damn worth it since amongst all the frenzy, he met you. His honey eyes glistened with a swirling sense of comfort, delight and appreciation every time you graced his sight with your beauty.

Albedo becomes clueless, for once. He's been called genius, brilliant and all that meaningless adjectives before, sure. But Albedo has never felt this clueless about anything until the met you. The oh-so-wise alchemist has no idea what to do when he starts unconsciously searching for your figure every corner he turns, chasing your shadows in the corners of his dreams. Every whim, every thought is suddenly laced with your scent- hypnotizing, pulling him deeper into your sweet allure. He notices small things about you, how you prefer your tea/coffee in the daytime, how you stare up to the ceiling when you're trying to remember something, even have a guess on what mood you're in from how you walk into his alchemy camp, looking even more divine than the last time he saw you. He swears he feels like he's losing control over his composure, yet he didn't know what to do for once. Except falling in love hopelessly with you, of course. Little did he know, you were aware of his feelings. How could you not be when his normally stoic face softens and quite majestically glows with fondness and adore whenever he saw you?

Itto wishes to include you in everything he does. Now, basic things like Onikabuto-picking or Arataki gang "conferences" aside, Itto wants to make you feel welcomed, included, most importantly wanted in everything his life has to offer. Your presence is enough to make this man happy, he would happily agree + confidently declare that bring the moon to you if that's what you desire. Even in mundane things in life like walking with you to your workplace in the morning or helping you pick out what clothes to wear today, Itto wants both himself and you to get used to being in each other's life. After all no matter what anyone says, he'll stay forever with you if you'd like. Forever and even longer, his "buddy, comrade, partner" and ... "only-his-dude"- as he called you.

Diluc's love is... surprisingly cute and respectful. Devotion, loyalty and commitment is to be expected to the highest spectrum and beyond, of course. But you may have underestimated how utterly lovably this man would behave when he's in love. He may struggle with verbal expression in romance, but he made his love crystal clear with how he prepares the tea just like how you like it ( to perfection ) every morning with utmost concentration and effort. His love is evident in the way he never lets go of your hand even when the crowd isn't that large because "you may get separated", thumb tenderly caressing the back of your hand. His love is heartwarming when he listens to everything you have to say and hold you in higher regard against anyone and everything. His uttermost respect, admiration and love directed to you would make you feel on the top of the world.

Gorou may act all tough and mighty around his troops for the sake of his heavy title "general", but when you tickle his heartstrings so playfully and lovingly, he turns into the cutest doggy you may ever see. Not to mention he has absolutely no control over how his ears perk up and tail wagging uncontrollably, and he wants attention so much to the point he's embarrassed about his neediness. His pride is high, but his need for you is much higher and it's evident from the way he can't help but cling onto you from the moment you come home, slightly whining if you don't give him headpats and kisses on his cheek as you always do. He wraps his tail around you protectively, leaning into your neck and tickling you with his fluffy ears. He may not say directly but every time you cuddle, you couldn't help but adore the needy look in his eyes, pushing his tail closer to you to make you cuddle his tail as well.

Kazuha ever the poet, just can't stay for one minute without complimenting or admiring you. For better or for worse you couldn't tell, he meant every single word no matter how exaggerated his compliments were. He meant them to the core. You could simply be enjoying the fragrant aroma of the afternoon tea he brought for you in peaceful silence, until he breaks it with his honey-laced voice full of admiration- "You look more beautiful than any goddess that have walked this world, my dove." It never fails to catch you off guard with his extravagant and frankly a-bit-too-cheesy compliments, and he is unfortunately very-acutely-aware from how his pretty scarlet eyes flash with mischievous satisfaction when he sees the slightest bit embarrassment show on your features no matter how you try to hide it. "I cannot imagine ever being happier than this moment with you, my beloved." "Your beauty puts the sun and stars to shame, love." P.s: If you decide one day to fire back with another equally-cheesy compliment about him, you may discover the wandering samurai a lot quieter, stumbling over his words with a lot-rosier cheeks than you remembered him having.

Kaeya is vulnerable around you. Scratch that, he allows himself to be vulnerable around you. This speaks so much volumes from who he truly is inside in comparison to his oh-so-mighty facade he keeps in his daily life. Kaeya prides himself on his sharp intuition and this fated encounter with you confirmed his accuracy further. You may suspect him for charming you like he always did when he mentioned how he "just knew you were the one immediately when he laid his eyes on your heavenly figure."- his words not yours. But in the end, you knew he was speaking the truth from how his gaze found yours with the mellow look you were familiar with, holding onto your hands with a featherlight grip like the one he held on your heart. He never lied to you, didn't hide his identity nor his purpose to you. He trusted you more than himself or anything else. Kaeya was no fool, he knew the dangers of sharing his truth. But he trusted his intuition and insight on this one- to trust you. Plus, you would stand against the world with him if need be, what more would Kaeya desire? The confident cavalry captain that everyone knows- he melts away in your presence, instead turning into a simple guy hopelessly in love, willing to spend every moment possible with you as long as heavens allow it. Nevermind, as long as you allowed him to. He wouldn't let even the heavens stand between the two of you for as long as you desired him the way he did for you.

Heizou's cheerfulness skyrockets from the moment you accepted his confession, if it was even possible. He was already happy-go-lucky to the point it was problematic to his surroundings- you might feel a bit remorse for others in his presence thanks to you fueling his fire. He sings at the top of his lungs whenever he hears love songs with absolutely no regards to where you two were, he would randomly hug and shower you with kisses on your cheek, forehead and nose even in front of that Tengu general from his workplace. He shows you off to everyone, and on top of that he can't keep his hands to himself even if it would cost him his life. He can't help it, he wants to be close to you! He loves holding you against him, hugging you tightly until both of you are almost out of breath and giggling uncontrollably. He pulls the adorably annoying "password?" when you're in bed cuddling and want to go somewhere, not letting you out of his embrace if you don't magically guess whatever password he's thinking of. On top of that he makes you guess the password by making it to a riddle on spot, so good luck with that. Whenever he happens to pass by a flower market, he'd pick one flower to "represent your beauty" for the day, making you scoff and accept his cute gift with a smile on your face. Despite his aloof behavior, it doesn't take much to notice that he's thinking of you every moment of the day and shows it to you through his various ways including but not exclusive to: physical touch and cute gifts.

Tighnari is well... a fox. That is to say, his sneakiness grows each moment he spends with you. He'd fill your daily life with traces of him so you are reminded of him and as reminder that he missed you dearly when he's away. He giggled to himself in endearment when he imagined you pouting slightly at his absence of presence, then a warm smile blooming on your face when you find that plate of berries he picked for you with a "good morning, dear. have a nice day, love you. -tg." note next to it. He "accidentally" leaves his sweater in your room when he's away for a particularly long time due to forest research so you'd have it to cuddle when you get lonely. You'd hug that sweater when you miss his again the next day, looking at that small pot of flower he brought for you on your birthday. And finally on the day he was to return home, you'd greet him wearing that sweater. It was an "accident", all of it- he told you with a sneaky smirk (even though he imagined you greeting him like this the entire trip but you didn't need to know that.). Alas, both of you knew that it was just one of his sneaky tricks to keep him in your mind as much as possible while soothing your sadness in the too-quiet serene nights he unfortunately made you spend alone. His plan ends by making you forget your lonely nights completely when you finally find home in between his arms. What sneaky tricks would he try tomorrow? I guess you'll find out soon enough.

Xiao makes promises to you. He knew some mortals may break promises but to Alatus, he makes promises he knows he will keep. He lives to honor his oath, whatever he may have vowed to you he will be sure to keep. It brought so much comfort to you when he made his first ever promise to you under the subtle glimmer of the night sky- "I'll stay by your side." Before Xiao has ever said he loved you, he's promised... himself to you, that he'd remain by you. For someone like him who holds the weight of verbal momentous oaths in respect beyond imagination, it was often what you needed when he gazed into your eyes with certainty and provided solace to your state of mind with his words. You laced your fingers with his, slightly tilting your head and smiled at him comfortingly when he seemed like he wanted to say something- your way of showing him that you're listening to whatever he had to say. With your accepting gesture, he relaxed and to your surprise, made another promise. One you'd never forget- "I love you." Your eyes slightly widened at his declaration. He tightened his grip on your hands and pulled you closer to him, faces barely an inch away from one another. Slowly, he placed your one hand on his shoulder and wrapped his free hand around your waist, still embracing your body in his warmth. "...Please stay with me." Xiao's expression was complex, millions of emotions flooding his senses. He'd never been like this before, and he was certain he never would with anyone else. Slight frustration also clouded his mind, he had so, so much more he wanted to say to you but failed to properly convey in words. Fondly beaming at your vigilant yaksha, you glanced into his eyes, glowing with nothing but devotion and faithfulness for you. You weren't sure if he was aware, but his gaze silently promised you one more- eternal love- lovers' oath. You smiled and nodded your head, caressing his neck gently. "You know, after such lovers' oath, us mortals seal the vow with a physical-." Xiao wasted no time and pressed his lips onto yours, making you sigh into the passionate kiss. With how he held your body close, lips moving in perfect sync, you two were reminded once again that your love was written in the stars, simply meant to be.

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obsidiansarchive · 6 months

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envy... (bsd jealousy hcss)

warnings, some sexual themes, jealousy, possessiveness, insecurity. obsidian; (dazai x f!reader), (yosano x f!reader) (ranpo x f!reader), (chuuya x f!reader), (tecchou x f!reader). some bsd characters being jealous hcs & scenerios notes: not proofread ;< ( i might make a pt.2 but idkk

% - DAZAI_____________

doesn't get jealous easily just likes to embarrass you.

if you're talking to someone, he wouldn't get mad unless their being too touchy and obviously flirty.

he'll wrap his hands around your waist and join the conversation, it ends up becoming very awkward and every time the man asks you a question, dazai ends up answering it.

He lowkey loves to embarrass you and would start bragging about you and your relationship.

The man could ask you how your weekend was and Dazai would reply with..., "During the weekend ___ actually spent her time at my house, we were supposed to be watching a movie together, but we got a little distracted."

He'll start detailing how your like in bed... literally down to your moans and how much time it takes you to climax.

obviously, this gets incredibly awkward and either you or the guy you're talking to ends up ending the conversation.

Afterwards, he would just walk away like nothing happened leaving you to sit in your own embarrassment.

jealous meter: 6/10 embarrassment meter: 10/10

% - YOSANO ______________

Also doesn't get jealous easily, but unlike dazai doesn't like to embarrass you.

She will start to get jealous if the person you're talking to is taking too much of your time.

She will try to just calmly tell you this or do something obvious to let you know that it's time to go.

If you ignore this then she'll actually do something about it.

She's the type to also jump into the conversation but instead of kind of matching the conversation she'll be passive aggressive and dismiss everything they say.

If the person becomes frustrated than she wins. If they don't or at least don't show it. then she'll start to mock them or just become rude.

She does stay calm throughout all of this, and they just end up in a one-sided argument.

The guy will probably end walking away and if you guys were friends never talking to you again.

Afterwards she'll probably laugh about it, and carry on what you guys were supposed to do be doing.

jealousy: 5/10. embarrassment: 6/10

% - RANPO___________

gets jealous incredibly easily

a lot it comes from insecurity despite his cocky attitude,

but he also likes for all of your attention to be on him, and he'll try to let everyone know that you're his.

so, if you're talking to anyone for longer than like 10 minutes, he'll start to get jealous.

He's the type to go up to you while you're still talking and hold on to you like a koala.

He'll even start to kiss you and whine until you give him your attention again.

If you start to get mad or annoyed by this, he'll start targeting whoever you're talking to.

"You're really ditching me for this guy...?!"

he's going to start insulting the guy's intelligence and the way their speaking.

"I understand but you're trying to flirt but god your terrible at it."

his last effort is to start pulling you away or make out with you Infront of them.

He'll be happy afterwards and would pretend like nothing happened.

jealousy : 10/10 embarrassment: 8/10

% - CHUUYA___________

Gets jealous easily,

It's not insecurity, he's just possessive.

would get jealous if the guy was flirting or not;

He doesn't care if your attention is not on him but cares if the guy is touchy than he'll get angry, very very fast.

He'll walk up to you guys and cut the guy off, then start an argument with him.

He'll threaten him and insult literally everything down to his shoes.

"Do you really think SHE will ever even think about being with a guy like YOU."

Is not afraid to start a fight, and you'll probably end up dragging him away before he ends up killing the guy.

Once you're alone, he'll become very flirty and teasy.

"Maybe I have to mark you up so everyone knows your mine."

He's also very understanding and knows he embarrassed you, but he'll tell you he's just very possessive of you and You'll make up very fast.

jealousy; 9/10 embarrassment. 7/10

% - TECCHOU ______________

does not get jealous in the slightest; more annoyed.

In the case the guy was just taking up your attention, tecchou would innocently join the conversation,

tecchou would be genuinely nice and could maintain a conversation with the person.

the guy would probably end up talking to tecchou instead lol.

if the guy was being obviously flirty, then tecchou would respectfully tell him that the two of you are dating.

If the guy still doesn't stop than tecchou will become more aggressive and end up dragging you away.

is not the type to start a fight unless the guy initiates it. and would probably just end up knocking him out.

Afterwards would either forget about it or would be very nonchalant about it.

jealousy; 4/10 embarrassment, 1/10

send me requests <33

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #bsd ranpo #bsd yosano #bsd tecchou #bsd dazai x reader #chuya x reader #ranpo x reader #yosano x reader #tecchou x reader #dazai x reader #obsidian.!.

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allzelemonz · 6 months

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Dare: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

(Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Javier Esquella)

Fictober Prompt: Day 17, Multi Pronouns: he/him, Reader referred to as ‘fella’ and ‘man’, heavy masculine implication Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: (have you ever been in a men’s locker room and things got a little weird), smut, background relationships, masturbation, hand jobs, kissing, oral sex, blow jobs, dirty talk, facial, cum swallowing, Micah being an asshole, flirting, casual sex, everyone is gay but especially Bill Summary: Drunk Sean wanting to get off prompts a dare to jerk off and last longer than anyone else at the fire. Gay chaos of a sort ensues.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Arthur nearly shrieks, his head turning away from a much drunker Sean.

“Oh, come on now, Englishman.” Sean giggles. “We’re all men here, ain’t no trouble at all, is it?”

His hand palms at the bulge in his pants. A bulge that has only now been noticed and has the rest of camp’s attention. Bill fixes his eyes for a few seconds before he looks away, shifting his legs nervously. You try to look almost anywhere else.

Sean grins. “Ya know what, fellas, I bet you I can get myself off ‘fore any a’ you.”

Micah scoffs. “We all heard yer whore goin’ off ‘bout how ya can’t last, cowpoke.”

Sean hisses, stilling his hand. “Fine, then I bet I can ‘least outlast a greasy arse of man like you.”

“What?” Javier grimaces. “You want us all to sit here with our dicks out?”

“Embarrassed, Mister Escuella?” Sean laughs, giving him wavy eyebrows.

“We’re not all gonna jerk off in front of each other.” You mutter. “That’s insane.”

Sean sits up, putting a falsely offended hand over his chest. “That ain’t fair, big man.” A grin grows over his face. “What if I dared all a’ ya?”

“A dare?” Charles mutters.

Sean proudly puts his hand over his bulge. “I dare each a ya ta last longer than the legend Sean MacGuire. An’ whoever lasts longest, I’ll give ya my share a’ the job.”

The men around the fire shuffle, some hiding their own erections, others simply uncomfortable. It’s just a handful of the young men here, sent out for a train job. Arthur stares into the fire, as does Charles, Bill glances all around as he tries not to look at anyone at all, Micah and Javier seem more insulted than anyone. A dare is an odd thing, often able to make a man do things he never would, stupid things at that. And one like this, as odd as it is, is almost a challenge to each one of your own masculinity. Everything about dicks is.

You assume that’s why it’s Micah that starts unfastening his pants first. “Fine.” He mutters.

And Javier follows, wordless. Then Bill, fumbling quickly. Sean flicks his eyes between the rest of you as he fishes himself out. You admit, confident in your manhood or not, a dare is a dare so you pull your dick out as well. Arthur grumbles something to himself, doing the same. Charles is the last, seemingly embarrassed and likely thankful that his complexion hides most of the heat in his cheeks unlike most of you.

“Alright.” Sean says proudly. “Everybody gives a good effort, whatever ya like, long as ya don’t stop. Huh?”

Nods follow, each man showing their nerves in little bits and averting their eyes as much as they can. Plenty of you have been naked in front of each other or just caught glimpses during a piss break, but it’s much odder with this context to see each other’s dicks in hand.

“Count a’ three then.” Sean grins. “One! Two…! Three!”

You lick your hand and wrap your fingers around yourself, focusing down on that sight as opposed to anyone else. You flick your wrist loosely, moving slow and trying to ignore how the shivers spread over you. If you were alone it wouldn’t be much stimulation, but knowing you’re surrounded by six other men makes it just a little more exciting.

When you chance a glance up you find shamelessly wandering eyes and slow strokes all around. Arthur’s face is flushed red as his eyes stare around, the most shame anyone has. Sean lets noise spill from him easily, his hand the first to move faster. He doesn’t last long past that, Micah laughing at him as he releases.

“Shit…” Sean sighs, staring down at the mess of his pants.

Some of the other men still, looking at the loser of the little competition.

“Well don’t stop on my account.” Sean says with a smile. “Winner gets my share a’ the job, remember?”

The slow strokes continue.

Sean looks around for a moment before you see a grin spread over his face as he tucks himself away. “‘a course, that don’t mean I can’t play favorites.”

“The hell’s that mean?” Bill mutters.

Sean stands, slowly making his way over to Micah. “Ain’t like ya need the money, do ya?”

Micah eyes the Irishman warrily, but makes no move to stop him from dropping to his knees. Sean shocks everyone around the fire when he takes Micah in his mouth. Micah hisses, moving his hand out of Sean’s way and into his tangled red hair. Bill gasps next to you, his eyes fixed on the sight. You look away, the thought of Sean’s share of money paying for a nicer saddle or something keeping you restrained. Micah caves, gripping Sean’s hair and fucking into his mouth until he releases.

Sean coughs and splutters, swallowing most of the cum before he can pull himself away. “Least…” Sean spits. “Least you ain’t winnin’, ya lousy arse. When’s the last time ya wash that little thing a’ yours anyway?”

Micah scowls at him, tucking himself away. “You wanna play rough, MacGuire, fine.”

It’s like a cloud of hated lust washes the sense from everyone, both Micah and Sean moving to a target they don’t want winning.

As Arthur glares at Micah, Sean smirks. “New rule, boys. Ya get picked by somebody that’s out, ya gotta let ‘em try fer at least a minute.”

“That’s stupid.” Arthur mutters, eyeing Micah as the blond smirks down at him.

“Only fair, Morgan.” Micah says. “I ain’t gonna be the only fool that got out on a technicality.”

Arthur grumbles, but doesn’t stop Micah from gripping him and stroking furiously. Your heart skips when Sean’s eyes meet yours and he takes a few steps forward.

“No hard feelings, big man, Bill said he’d buy me a drink.” Sean snickers as he drops to his knees in front of you.

You shudder when he touches you, your hot skin buzzing at his cool fingers. But before you can blink, his mouth has engulfed your entire length. Sean is far too good at this. He bobs his head and you will yourself not to give in for the minute he has.

Across the fire, Arthur shoves Micah away. “Ya had yer chance, sick bastard.”

Micah grunts, wiping his hand on his pants before turning to Bill and starting his process again. Bill moans at the touch, struggling not to buck up into Micah’s hand. You’ve lost track of Sean’s minute, but he wasn’t far behind Micah so you shove at his shoulder.

“Better luck next time.” You say, your voice shaking a bit as you replace your hand.

Sean grins up at you, whispering. “Hope ya win.”

Likely because he’s losing his promised drink with the way Bill is shutting under Micah’s touch. Just as Sean reaches Javier to tease, Bill releases with a gasp. Micah grins to himself but you catch it, you also notice how he doesn’t stop as Bill shakes but instead strokes him through it.

“Get Morgan.” He mutters.

Bill nods, sweat covering his face. Micah straightens himself and glances between you and Charles, opting for you after a few seconds.

“Sorry, cowpoke.” He mutters. “Just rather touch you than him.”

“Fuck off, Micah.” You say through gritted teeth.

Micah smiles at you as he sits down next to you, leaning close as his arm wraps around your waist and his hand closes on your dick. “That ain’t any way ta talk. I’m ‘bout ta get ya off, ain’t I?”

For as much of an ass as Micah is, he’s good at this. Your mind wanders, picturing all the times you’ve seen Micah by the fire cleaning his guns. His fingers wrapped around the barrel as he drags the cloth over the metal.

“Shit!” You gasp.

Micah’s hand feels better than Sean’s mouth did, fast and furious strokes making you have to stop yourself from squirming. A low groan from Javier takes him out as he fills Sean’s throat, the Irishman not pulling off like he did with Micah and choosing to swallow it all this time. Only a moment later, Arthur mutters a curse as he releases onto Bill’s face and dirties the man’s beard. He mumbles an apology as Bill grumbles about it, both of them blushing deeply.

“Alright, alright.” Sean says. “Let’s give our finalists a chance.”

Micah leans a little closer as he takes his hand back. “Win this, cowpoke.”

You shutter as his breath hits your neck.

Sean grins. “Hands away now, boys! Take a breather.”

Charles pulls his hand back, resting it on his thigh as he eyes the group. You swallow thickly, still feeling all the heat from Sean and Micah’s attempts. Charles hasn’t even been touched once, he has the advantage.

“How should we do this, boys?” Sean asks, turning to the group of losers. “Let ‘em keep at it, help ‘em out?”

“This is stupid.” Arthur grumbles.

Bill is too occupied with trying to get the cum out of his beard to answer.

Javier is still catching his breath from his orgasm.

Micah shrugs.

“Fine.” Sean grins. “I’ll be the judge ‘ere. Javier an’ Bill.” He points to you. “Ya work on ‘em an’ Arthur an’ Micah get Charles.”

No one moves for a moment. You look over and share a sympathetic look with Charles.

Sean groans. “Come on, boys! Have a little fun… I’ll buy a round a’ drinks.”

It’s enough to get Bill at your side, Javier follows as Micah and Arthur go to Chalres.

“Alright, count a’ three.” Sean grins, rubbing his hands together like the schemy little shit he is. “One, two…three!”

Bill goes straight for your dick, wrapping his big hand around it and stroking almost as well as Micah. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on lasting. It becomes infinitely harder when Javier’s hand dips below Bill’s and finds your balls still tucked in your pants. He leans in close, whispering a mix of English and Spanish in your ear and you know well enough that every word is dirty even though you try to tune it out. You can hear Micah snickering in the distance and take it as a good sign, he’d be the type to laugh at Charles getting off and losing. Bill’s other hand wanders up your chest and squeezes at your pecs briefly before he winds it under your shirt and feels at your skin. Javier’s other hand finds your jaw and his fingers trail as he turns your head. Your eyes peek open in time to see him smirk, then he kisses you as his hand squeezes at your balls firmly.

With their hands all over you, you can’t hold it anymore. It’s like a burst. The waves hit you hard and you spasm as you cum over your pants. Bill strokes you through it, his other hand gentle as it settles on your waist. Javier muffles whatever odd little noises you would have made, trailing off in smaller kisses before he stops. You open your eyes to look at him and he kisses your cheek with a wink. The three of you look over at the competition. Micah is stroking furiously, as he did with the others he tried to sabotage while Arthur kisses Charles’s neck and a hand plays with his nipples under his open shirt. Charles won, he hasn’t cum yet.

“Damn it.” Bill grumbles, glancing at you. “Was hopin’ you’d win.”

“Your fault.” You reply, breath still not quite back in your lungs.

Bill blushes. “Sorry, got, uh, caught up…”

“‘s alright…” You slur, head spinning still.

Sean doesn’t say a word to stop anything, holding a finger to his lips to silence any of you from alerting them. It’s only fair. Charles holds strong, though he seems to enjoy it when Arthur kisses him properly as his hand grips the other’s hair and holds him in place. Micah, never one to like losing and still unaware of his sealed fate, takes Charles in his mouth. Javier has to clap a hand over his lips to keep a laugh from alerting them. All of you sit in shock, never expecting Micah to suck off a man he berates on a daily basis even for the sake of winning some silly competition.

Charles’s hips buck and Micah moans when his hair is gripped and his mouth is used. His hands do nothing to stop it, only wandering over Charles’s thighs as he’s used. It only takes a minute after that, Charles’s hips stutter and he holds Micah flush to him as he releases. Arthur continues to kiss him and Micah is held in place despite his squirming until Sean clears his throat.

“Ya won, boys.” He grins. “Unless ya wanna keep goin’.”

Micah shoves himself away, falling back on his ass as he spits and coughs. Charles watches him, smiling for a moment before pulling Arthur closer and continuing.

“Alright then…” Sean turns to you and your saboteurs. “Anybody else all cheeky now?”

Bill grumbles something, standing and going over to Micah. He grips the smaller man by his collar, yanking him to his feet and shoving him towards the little collection of tents.

Sean has his eyebrows raised when he turns back, but he grins. “I ain’t gonna lie, I seen them hidin’ in the trees a couple times.”

“So you made us all get each other off?” Javier smirks, his arm draping around your shoulders. “Lousy move, cabrón.”

“I didn’t make ya do a thing ya didn’t wanna.” Sean crosses his arms. “It ain’t my fault you boys all wanted ta fuck each other.”

You sigh, remembering to tuck yourself away and glancing over to the winning fools. They’re nowhere to be seen. “They sneak off?”

“Suppose they did.” Sean chuckles. “Filthy sods.”

Javier waits a beat before turning to you. “Seems like everyone else is having a good time tonight. You wanna?”

Before you can answer, Sean whines. “Ya gonna leave me out? I’m the one that got ya started!”

“You’re taking then.” Javier mutters.

Sean grins. “Happily.”

You shake your head, sighing. “Fine, I guess.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy me, cariño.” Javier whispers, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

You hang your head, smiling softly. “Shut up, Escuella.”

He tugs at your arm as he stands, pulling you with him.

The fire light dies down over the course of the night. Faint, muffled moans and whimpers can be heard if you really listen, but it’s mostly that distinct sound of skin hitting skin that echoes well into the night. Some of you can’t walk in the morning, very much complicating the robbery and no one knows how you all are going to explain the failure to Dutch.

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devildom-moss · 7 months

Text

The demon brothers reacting to an MC who hides their burn marks headcanon

The demon brothers version of a previous request for the dateables + Luke reacting to an MC who has burn marks all over their arms/legs and avoids wearing revealing clothes because they're self conscious about it. I hope this one is okay. Please ignore how much my tenses shift - hopefully it reads fine. Also why is it that usually when I do another version of a previous post, it gets longer. Why am I like this?

requested by: @justalurkerheretolurk

(slightly suggestive for some of the brothers)

Word Count: +2,400

Lucifer

For once, his approach is that it’s none of his business. He doesn’t wear revealing clothes himself, so it takes him forever to notice that you have self-esteem reasons for hiding your body.

He might sense some of your discomfort when someone suggests that you should wear more revealing clothing (Asmo), but he doesn’t make much of it. If you don’t want to talk to him about it, he won’t question you (unless you seem really upset).

Lucifer doesn’t find out unless your sleeve accidentally slips too far up your arms or until one of those shared outdoor bath/hot spring trips. He’ll get suspicious if you aren’t willing to join him in the baths despite his efforts to tempt you. Basically, he’s not going to question you trying to keep covered until he’s trying to get in your pants.

The second he finds out, he’ll be speechless for a moment – to the point that it worries you. Is it really so bad that he can’t say anything?

Side headcanon: I think he gets it. He’s probably scarred up from the Celestial War. There are parts of his body that scratch away at his pride sometimes. He wants to ask about it, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

It’s not disgust or shock that shuts him up, it’s shame – and under that, affection. He’s ashamed that you didn’t feel you could show him until now, ashamed that he never questioned you before or didn’t notice, and ashamed that he let someone he cherishes so dearly feel self-conscious without him knowing. He wants to choose his words carefully – lace together something that would make you feel better – but all he can do is take hold of your arm and ask you if you had been hiding those marks the entire time.

He’ll almost sound scary, but his eyes will look so desperate. Lucifer will beg you not to hide your body – not from him. (He’ll even say please.) You don’t have to show anyone else (in fact, he’d prefer if he was the only one), but you have nothing to be embarrassed about around him. He wants to see everything.

He’ll pull out the bedroom eyes and tell you, “I mean it. Let me prove it.”

Mammon

He probably sees your marks because he walks in on you changing. Man does not believe in knocking. You should be grateful to get a visit from the Great Mammon.

He’s almost too embarrassed to notice the burns at first. His brain lags, and then it hits him like – well, like Lucifer when Mammon’s racked up a huge debt on his card again. His eyes widen, and he shuts the door behind him.

“What happened to ya?” he asks frantically, running up to you. However, his tone doesn’t match the gentle touch he has when his hand slides over your marks. Even if you’ve already covered up, he’ll caress you over your clothes. The location of your scars is burned into his mind. The next words leave him in a softer, somber tone, like some wounded child, “when’d ya get hurt?”

In Mammon’s mind, if he can figure out why, how, and when, maybe he can do something to help you. Whether you feel comfortable enough to tell him or not, he won’t press you too much.

He’s hurt that you didn’t let him know sooner – that he only found out now. He’s always clinging to you, so how is that even possible?

“Hey. Is that why yer always covered up?” He noticed that you avoided revealing clothes, but he thought maybe you were like Lucifer. Mammon didn’t want to make you self-conscious about it, so he never brought it up before. When you agree, he feels as if his chest has been stabbed by dozens of long upholstery needles.

With the softest, saddest smile, he tells you, “ya don’t have to hide nothin’ from me, y’know?”

He’d pull you into a hug, and even though he was too shy to manage more than a whisper, he’d say, “listen close. The Great Mammon ain’t a fan of repeatin’ himself, but I think ya look fine. I mean, ya shine more beautifully than any precious metal, my treasure.”

Mammon will probably ask you to show him more of your body when you’re alone. Of course he wants to see more, he’s the avatar of greed, after all.

Leviathan

You can’t convince me that this man won’t try to get you to wear revealing cosplay at some point. Levi’s too embarrassed to ask you to wear something skimpy himself, but if it’s for cosplay, maybe you’d go along with it.

He doesn’t even warn you that it’s revealing as he hands it to you, practically begging you to try it on for him. If you refuse, he won’t hesitate to drop to his knees and grovel. “Please? It’ll be so moe. Please? Pleeeaassse?”

There’s instant regret when he finds out why you were so reluctant – whether you decide to just tell him or change into the clothes and show him. His stomach will drop, and his eyes will widen. He feels terrible for making you reveal that information, possibly far sooner than you wanted to.

His mind will flood with self-criticism, but he knows that this moment isn’t about him, so he pushes his own shame back down. Levi knows what it’s like to feel self-conscious, and he wants to help, but he doesn’t know where to start.

“I know it doesn’t mean much coming from me, but I like how you look. You’re my IRL fav.”

If you let him, he’ll pull you into his tub while in his demon form, wrap his tail around you, and hold you. You can game or watch anime – anything to help you feel better.

Levi doesn’t know how to go about comforting you, and it’s embarrassing for him to tell you how gorgeous he thinks you are, but he’ll try, and he’ll keep asking you to cosplay for him (especially the revealing stuff). If you just want to hang out in his room while wearing revealing clothing, he’s happy with that – even if he gets so horny shy that he feels like he’s going to die.

He’s another one who would prefer it if you only wore revealing clothes around him. If anyone else got to see that much of you, he’d be jealous. A more selfish part of him would also prefer it if he was the only one who knew about your marks. You’re his Henry. You’re his best friend. You don’t need to be that vulnerable with anyone else as long as you have him.

Satan

Satan is likely to find out on accident: a sleeve falling down too far or something kind of ridiculous like getting caught in a downpour while wearing a white shirt.

The rage boils up in the pit of his stomach when he sees your marks, but he isn’t sure who to be mad at because he doesn’t have any of the information. Maybe he’s just mad at the world for having hurt you.

When Satan notices your embarrassment at being caught, he calms himself. He’ll ask if it ever hurts you, and then he’ll ask to touch you. If you agree, his touch will be delicate – as if he expects you to break.

Without much warning, though, he’ll wrap his arms around you. He’ll tell you that it’s okay to be self-conscious. If you’re comfortable, you can show as much or as little skin as you want. He’ll love you all the same. You could swear that you felt a teardrop hit your shoulder as he hugged you, but when he finally pulled away, his eyes were clear.

Satan brings up that he’s heard that cats’ purring could be healing. Maybe you could get a cat to sit on you and purr? In part, he’s using this as an excuse to invite you on a cat café date.

He encourages you to try more revealing clothes around him. When you’re alone, he’ll get clingier. He strikes me as a kiss-the-scars kind of guy.

Asmodeus

Asmo loves to treat you like his little dress-up doll. He’s not blind, and he’s noticed how often you’re covering yourself up. Usually, when he dresses you up, he tries to keep your comfort levels in mind, giving you clothes that would flatter you while still covering parts of your body that you may be trying to hide – whether or not he understands why.

But eventually, Asmo is going to want to push you out of that comfort zone. While you’re out shopping one day, he’ll grab something a bit more revealing (probably a sheer-sleeve shirt) and put it into the pile. You might not even notice until you’re in the changing room.

You’d put off trying it on, modeling every other shirt in the bunch for Asmo. Maybe he would forget the revealing one, but he didn’t. After an approving nod from him on the second-to-last option, Asmo would knowingly add, “one more, gorgeous.”

“Asmo, I can’t wear this,” you’d tell him as you buttoned the shirt up. It was just as you feared: your scars were visible. Asmo sighed; he figured you might be hesitant. “Can I at least come in and see? Pretty please?”

It’s hard to say no to Asmo; you could imagine the pout on his lips. When you unlocked the door, he quickly snuck in. He noticed immediately as he appraised you. A soft, solemn “oh” left his lips. It all made sense now.

The insecurity started to build, but Asmo was quick to squash it. He took your face in his hands and reassured you. “Darling, you look absolutely beautiful.”

Asmo will constantly tell you how lovely, pretty, and cute you are. Yes, that absolutely includes the marks. They don’t take a single bit of beauty away from you. He’s the most gorgeous creature in the Devildom, after all, so he would know.

Asmo is delicate with his approach to encouraging you to wear more revealing clothes, suggesting outfits that show just a bit more and staying aware of your comfort levels. He’ll never push you to wear anything revealing in front of anyone except him if you aren’t comfortable, but he can be a bit pushy about letting him see more of you. He won’t judge, so just trust yourself with him.

He doesn’t really think about how it happened; all he knows is that it makes you feel self-conscious now, and that’s something he can try to do something about.

Will probably try to flirt and tell you that if you ever want to show him everything, he’ll make sure you don’t regret it.

Beelzebub

Beel notices something is off when you show up in sweats to work out with him and never take them off. It’s hot. He’s five seconds away from taking off his shirt. How are you even alive?

“Seriously, you need to change. You’re going to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you insist. Worried, Beel will insist that you call it a day. He’ll offer to take you out for food once you’re both washed up and changed.

The next time he gets you alone in his room or yours, he brings it up again. He’s nervous and worried, with his hands clasped awkwardly in front of his heart, as he asks why you don’t wear shorts or tank tops – even when you’d probably be more comfortable.

When you tell him (or even show him), Beel’s shoulders slump. It makes sense now. He feels bad – because you were hurt, because he feels like he pressured you to tell him, because you’ve been hiding it the whole time, because you feel bad about your marks.

He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, Beel engulfs you in his arms. His grip is gentle, barely touching you as he asks you if the burn scars hurt. If you’re not in pain, he’ll hold you tighter. He wants to comfort you, but nothing feels like it’ll be enough, so he just holds you quietly for a long time.

Eventually, the only words that hold any weight in his mind escape him in a low tone.

“I love you. I think you’re beautiful.”

After he finds out, Beel goes out of his way to tell you how handsome and beautiful you are more often. He assumed you knew how he felt before, but he doesn’t want to leave any room for doubt now.

Belphegor

I feel like Belphie is the one person who is more likely to discover your marks through touch. He’s very clingy and touchy and a bit of a perv, so I could see him just noticing something about the texture of your skin through your clothes. He’s so used to pressing himself firmly against you, and if you are prone to pain or irritation from that, he’ll notice your reactions, too.

He also strikes me as someone who slips his cold hands into your clothes. Especially if your shirt is tucked in, he has no problem just slipping his hands up your sleeves.

Unfortunately, he won’t consider that he may be bringing up a sensitive topic for you when he almost immediately questions you. (If he’s exhausted, he may wait until after a nap to ask you.) On the bright side, because the others usually bug him about cuddling you, your chances of it happening when you’re alone are pretty high.

Belphie feels bad when you tell him that he touched your scars/burn marks and that you had been trying to keep them covered up because it’s embarrassing – especially if you tell him that you’re worried about how other people look at you. Your shame ignites a fire in him, and he launches into an irritated rant.

“Who gives a fuck about what other people think about how you look? There’s nothing inherently wrong with it, really. Maybe it’s fucked up how it happened. I don’t know, and you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but they’re just marks now. It’s just a part of your body. And I like your body. I liked it before I knew they were there, and my feelings haven’t changed now that I know. You’re still my favorite cuddle buddy.”

He’ll pull you against him and stroke your hair with an indignant blush staining his cheeks.

“If anyone ever makes you feel bad, tell me. You’ll never hear another cruel word from them after that. No one hurts my precious human pillow.” Except for him that one time.

(the dateables + Luke version)

A/N: Hopefully these came out alright. I'm such a sucker for comfort stuff, which is why I took this request even though my requests aren't technically open right now. Can y'all tell who I loved writing for on this prompt the most?

Also, I'm over here wishing September had another day so I could finish the September poll story without rushing it. If it's a day late, I'm sorry! I'll be preoccupied for most of tomorrow, and I have to drive a lot so I can't skip out on sleep tonight. Putting the pro in procrastination. I don't even know what to put on the poll for October, either. My brain is just soup right now. screaming Anyway, I do have something planned for October that hopefully you'll all find enjoyable. Okay, I'm going to shut up now.

#lucifer #mammon #leviathan #satan #asmodeus #beelzebub #belphegor #gn!mc #requests #obey me headcanons #obey me demon brothers #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor

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magicalbats · 6 months

Text

Flesh-Devouring Part 4

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 25,488

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, some mild violence/blood, a big fat serving of angst, cunnilingus, blowjobs, light bondage, nipple clamps, piv sex, creampie, spanking

A/N: The final part is here! Sorry for the long wait, but I hope the climax ends up being well worth the journey and everyone enjoys what I cooked for these two! I had a lot of fun writing this short series, maybe I'll get to do another in the future!

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

You liked Sigewinne. Really, you did. But the way she looks at you is always a little strange, her gaze lingering on a spot about two centimeters from the center of your face rather than your eyes, and you’re never quite sure what to make of it.

The first few times Wriothesley steered you down to the infirmary — for “safe keeping” while he tended to other matters, or so he’d said — you’d been so convinced that there was something on your cheek that you had quickly excused yourself from her in hot faced embarrassment, but there wasn’t ever anything there when you would check. It was certainly odd, but you’d realized soon enough that it was better just to pretend like you didn’t notice it.

While that was certainly easier said than done she was still sweet, and you liked the Melusines. You didn’t want to make her feel bad, thinking perhaps she couldn’t help it, but especially not when you had neither the interest nor the right to judge anyone else for their little quirks or oddities, least of all over something as benign as this.

The exceedingly strange things she would say to you from time to time were another matter entirely, though.

“Your facial muscles really are very interesting, you know. I quite enjoy getting to observe them like this.” She tells you, perfectly polite and innocent as she hands you a small plate of cookies. Trying very hard not to squirm under those big, doe-like eyes, you hesitantly accept it with a soft word of thanks.

You didn’t have the slightest clue what to make of that, but if she notices your uncertainty she doesn’t show it.

“The first time we met I couldn’t help but notice that there was some tension in the way you would hold yourself. Almost like you were always on the defensive, or anticipating a fight of some kind.” Hopping up into the chair beside you, Sigewinne pulls one of those god awful milkshakes she’d once made for you closer to herself so she can cradle it between her daintily gloved hands. “But now you look really rather relaxed and even happy! I’m so glad you’re feeling more at ease now.”

“Thank you, miss Sigewinne. That’s very kind of you to say.” It takes a great deal of effort to keep your voice steady, and an even greater effort to stay seated instead of bolting from the room in a flustered panic. Relaxed and at ease was certainly one way to put it … ever since the fundraiser ball two nights prior, you’d felt like you were floating on a soft little cloud everywhere you went and you didn’t have to be a genius to figure out why.

It was love, wasn’t it?

“I hope this doesn’t come out the wrong way, but I think you look so incredibly beautiful now. Almost like you’re glowing.”

You cautiously inch your gaze up to peek over at her from the corner of your eye. Glowing? You’d always heard rumors that the Melusine’s perceive the world a bit differently than humans do and you had no idea what she was seeing in that moment when she looked at you, but it makes you flush all the same. Dammit, Wriothesley, how long was this going to take? You weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to keep your reactions in check.

“Thank you, that’s very sweet of you but you always look very fresh and dewy faced as well, miss Sigewinne. I hope you’ll share your beauty secrets with me one day?”

She seems quite pleased to hear that, sitting up a little straighter in her chair, and you quickly bring your cup of coffee up to sip, glad for the ready distraction.

“Oh, there’s not much to share, I’m afraid. Just a bit of cream before bed and cold water in the morning to chase away any puffiness is really all it takes. I’d ask for your secrets and tips, but I unfortunately don’t have any gentlemen friends to help me with the application.”

You choke on your coffee with a violent lurch, very nearly dumping the whole mug all over the counter in your haste to set it down. Whipping your head around, you just gape at her in barefaced disbelief but she only smiles that perfectly innocent smile again.

“Don’t worry, miss. Your secret is safe with me.” Sigewinne assures you, passing a handkerchief into your lax fingers. “I’m just glad you and his grace are getting along so well. He seems rather relaxed recently too, doesn’t he? Oh, that reminds me!”

Left reeling like a stray buoy lost out at sea, helplessly carried off by the tumultuous, stormy waves, you numbly watch her dig back into the pocket of her apron for a brief moment. Idly, perhaps even a bit hysterically, you wonder what other secrets she’s got hidden away in there.

“As it turns out, I actually have a gift for you today! I do hope you’ll like it.”

You sincerely hope it’s not another of her desolate tasting concoctions as you turn your shell shocked attention down at the hand she sticks out toward you. Genuine surprise promptly rushes into the forefront of your mind though when you realize she’s holding a … small tube?

“Is this lipstick?” You venture as you cautiously take the petite, gold burnished item from her.

“Yes, it is. I think that color will look lovely on you and really compliment your complexion. His grace is quite fond of the color red, you know.”

You nearly drop the damned thing at the startle that races up your arm. “Miss Sigewinne, please! Although I appreciate your thoughtfulness in gifting me such a thing, I really don’t think …”

The long, upright ears atop her head give a sudden twitch that makes you trail off, and then you hear it too just half a second later. A hurried rush of footsteps coming down the hall. Heartbeat quickening, you stiffly find your feet in time to watch a young inmate come stumbling into the infirmary with wide, nervous eyes that quickly dart around to take in the room.

“Has anyone seen his grace recently?” He stammers between out of breath gasps. “We, um, we have a bit of a situation out there.”

Your stomach drops like a lead weight. Then, before you even realize you’ve already made the decision to do so, you’re lurching into motion. “What’s going on?”

“Oh! Uh, well, on the central platform - -“

“Wait!” Sigewinne yelps behind you, but it’s too late. Your legs are already carrying you past him, out the door and down the hall, boots smacking against the metal plated flooring.

You didn’t even really understand it yourself, this sudden choking feeling of dread that makes your throat almost cinch shut to leave you struggling to pull in enough air long before you should have run out of stamina. All you could think about was George. Seeing the way his wrist had been engulfed by a much bigger hand when it flashes across your mind, again and again on a continuous loop. How easily it had snapped.

The sound.

You did not want Wriothesley to get involved if you could help it. That was the one and only thing you knew with any certainty.

You hear the commotion as soon as you reach the end of the hall, just in the near distance. It sounded like a brawl. Leaping down the metal staircase with your heart lodged in your throat, you dash towards the noise headlong — not sure what you were going to do, if you could even do anything — but the sight you come up to pulls you short a few yards away.

There were already guards working to pull the mess of prisoners off of one another. That was a good sign. The Clockwork Meka in the area were also making their way over, a few already subduing some of the inmates that were standing on the outskirts of the greater commotion in the center. An even better sign.

And in all of the chaos Wriothesley’s tall, unmistakable silhouette was nowhere to be found. It was the best sign of all.

Haltingly stiff, you force yourself to draw oxygen into your constricting lungs and take a cautious step closer. You scan the discordant scene, trying to figure out what was even happening or if there was something you could do to help when a starburst of red abruptly catches your attention amidst the shouting and flailing bodies. It’s all over the floor. A few of the prisoners in the center are stained with it. The distant, numb chill of a vertigo-inducing free fall grips you all at once. You see it when the meka separate the two men who seem to have been at the epicenter of it. The knife.

“What are you doing here?”

A blocky hand closes around your elbow from behind and roughly yanks you back a step. You don’t need to look to know who it is, but you still find your neck slowly craning back anyway. Wriothesley’s dark brows are pinched in what you think is probably anger, but you try to tell yourself it’s just concern. He never got angry with you. Not truly. Not like this.

“There’s a fight.” It’s the only thing you can think to say.

“I can see that, but that doesn’t answer my question.” He practically hisses at you. Giving your arm a tight squeeze that stops just short of pain, he leans over you to bring his face close and he drops the volume of his voice so that only you can hear. “We will discuss this later. I want you to go back to my office and wait for me there while I take care of this mess, do you understand me?”

“I can help - -“

“No, you cannot. I’m not going to tell you again. Now do as I say. Quickly.”

You stir slightly from your dumbfounded shock. “Do not take that tone with me, your grace. You can’t shield me from this forever! If I am to be with you then - -“

The sharp twist he gives your elbow startles a hurt little gasp out of you, and he uses that moment of stunned shock to get right on top of you now. “So help me if you speak one more word instead of heeding my orders, I promise you will not like how this ends. Get yourself to my office. Now!”

You can’t help the way you cower from him, wrenching back in his hold with wide, frightened eyes that almost seem to look right through him in that moment. He lets you go, thankfully, and you stumble a step as he turns with a quick pivot of his heel. Wriothesley doesn’t even look back at you once as he purposefully strides towards the chaos, and the mess of limbs and bodies, the Clockwork Meka, and the blood, and you nearly trip over your own feet when you back up another pace. You hear Sigewinne calling out somewhere behind you, her little legs carrying her as fast as they can by the sound of it, but you can’t bring yourself to turn and look at her. Not when it felt like you were seconds away from shattering like a fragile piece of glass that had been mercilessly dashed against the wall.

Suddenly feeling blind and numb to everything going on around you, you make a run for it. Your legs carry you without any input from your brain telling them where to go. The only thought going through your mind now is that you had to get away. Couldn’t let anyone see you break. You knew you would. It was only a matter of when, not if.

If you could get behind the safety of closed doors where you could cry your eyes out in peace without the shame of anyone watching to hang over your head.

If you could find the peace and quiet of seclusion in time, or if someone would spot you, stop you, and bear witness to your humiliation first.

If you could keep it together just long enough to find a nice dark hole to crawl into so you could curl up and die alone.

And somehow you’re not the least bit surprised that your legs obediently take you straight to Wriothesley’s office, just as he’d commanded.

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

You’re not sure how much time you’ve spent just sitting in the dark, pitifully weeping until there was nothing left for you to cry, when you hear Wriothesley come in through the door. You don’t look up from your spot huddled in a tight ball on the chair behind his desk but you figured you probably didn’t need to anyway. He was likely still mad at you, given the way he’d parted from you earlier, and even if he wasn’t you were still mad at him.

Truthfully you didn’t even want to be in the same room with him right now, but you’d been too scared of what would happen if he returned to his office and found it empty to get up and leave. You’d thought about it many times over the last minutes, hours, days, months — however long you’d sat here in your misery, hating everything but most of all hating him.

He’d never once raised his voice at you like that.

The sound of his boots on the floor ratchets the exhausted tension thrumming through your body, but his footsteps are slow. Weary, as he makes his way over to stand next to the desk. You feel a brief spark of concern for him, wondering if he’d been hurt, but the thought quickly fades. It would serve him right, you think.

Resounding silence seems to stretch on for an eternity in which neither of you moves or speaks. It doesn’t even sound like either one of you is breathing at all. Then, at length, he finally draws a carefully controlled inhale.

“Why are you sitting in the dark, little miss?”

“Do not call me that.”

A terse pause.

“Are we back to that again?”

You squeeze your fists hard enough to hurt where they’re wrapped around your knees, hating the press of the lipstick Sigewinne had given you in your palm. You wouldn’t be needing it any longer. She could have it back.

“Yes, your grace.” You rattle out, your voice hoarse and thin, but slowly gaining strength the more you talk. “I must apologize for the lack of foresight on my part, but it has just occurred to me that I seem to have made a very big mistake. I'm sorry for any inconvenience it may cause you, but I think it’s time we go our separate ways.”

“Inconvenience?” Scoffing, Wriothesley appears to stir from his own fatigue, and he moves to turn on the lamp. You wince against the sudden wash of light across your burning, aching eyes, but still you refuse to look at him when he continues on. “Don’t be silly. You know it’s much more than that. If you want me to apologize for snapping at you earlier I’ll gladly do it.”

“I don’t want anything from you, your grace.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.” You insist, hissing now. “You have — you’ve been nothing but a blockheaded, rocks for brains oaf the entire time I’ve known you and I’m not sure what came over me for my common sense to falter this badly, but I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of you! It’s obvious you think so little of me that you see me as more of a pet than a person, and I’m finished with it!”

“I think no such thing.” Wriothesley volleys right back, perfectly calm now and still standing next to the lamp, but it just makes you even angrier. Everything about him was suddenly making you so damn mad.

This room that was so resoundingly his, the smell of him everywhere and mixed with the distantly comforting, lingering aroma of brewed tea. The weight of his presence here with you and the memories you’d shared within these walls, both the good and the bad. His voice, always so reasonable and even, except … except when it hadn’t been. You couldn’t seem to erase the way he’d sounded out on the platform from your mind. He’d scared you, hadn’t he? And that infuriated you. In fact you had half a mind to chuck the lipstick in your hand right at his stupid, smug face but you refrain for the simple fact that you didn’t want to tempt fate like that again.

He’d trained you well, evidently, but your bitter feelings only grow at the thought.

“I know you’re unhappy with me right now,” He finally says when you neither move nor speak. “And I can’t exactly fault you for that, but at least hear me out first before you start calling an end to everything. You know I don’t want to see you go. I would rather die than let that happen.”

You choke on a vindictive laugh. “Maybe you should have thought of that before you yelled at me in my face like that. You had no right! Despite how you so often treat me, I am not a child for you to boss around and bully into submission!”

“You’re wrong about that.” He says, so reasonable and sincere that it finally startles your head up. Did he seriously have the gall to - - “This is my fortress and I make the rules here. We’ve been over this before. I’m in my right to do whatever I please, whenever the mood so strikes me. You know that. Not once have I ever led you to believe any different. Not even when I’ve had you wrapped around me begging to get you off have I ever changed that narrative.”

“Do not bring that up right now!” You quake. “And you said - -“

“I said you had the power in our relationship because I wanted you to have it. If I’d really felt so compelled to force myself on you and take you without any concern for your feelings on the matter, I could have easily done that at any point. And as long as I did it here, in my fortress, there isn’t much you could have done about it. Even if you’d run straight to The Steambird or right into Neuvillette’s no doubt sympathetic arms, I likely would have just gotten a slap on the wrist for it and nothing more. Do not mistake my kindness for something it’s not.”

“Kindness! Is that what you call it?” You’re suddenly on your feet, staring him down across the desk. Your entire body shakes with it, this overwhelming desire to reach out and slap him. Claw at him. Just really, really hurt him. “Well, isn’t that just a wonderful note to end this ridiculous farce on! Was this all just sport for you then? A meaningless way for you to pass your abundance of free time? I knew you had a selfish streak, your grace, but I didn’t quite realize just how deep it actually ran!”

Wriothesley frowns at that, like you’ve struck a distant nerve. “That is not what I meant and you know it. And I wouldn’t consider myself selfish for wanting to protect you.”

“Oh, here we go again! Tell me all about how much you care for me while completely steamrolling everything I say at the same time! Go on! Let’s hear it then!”

He takes a moment to breathe deep, his broad shoulders rising and falling in the gloom cast by the single lamp. “I think you need to calm down, little miss. You’ve got yourself worked up into such a fit right now that you’re just saying whatever you think is going to get under my skin, but it’s not going to work.” You suck in a sharp, venomous inhale, readying to spit vitriol at him, but he holds a hand up to stop you. “Just hold on and listen to me for a moment. Can you at least do that? I’m not going to say ‘or else’, nor do I have any mind for punishing you for the way you’re acting. I’m well aware you’re deeply unhappy with me right now and that’s understandable, but I’m sure we can talk this out.”

“What is there to even talk about at this point!”

“You nearly scared the life out of me today.”

You jerk back as if he’d physically struck you. “… what?”

For once — possibly even for the first time since you’d met him — Wriothesley is the one who lowers his gaze to look elsewhere. “This may not be what you want to hear, but try to think about it from my perspective. The last time I saw you, I’d left you with Sigewinne. I thought you were in the infirmary. When word got to me about the brawl that broke out on that floor I was under the impression you were somewhere safe, far away from any of the violence or danger. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and saw you standing there, not even twenty steps away from all that mess. I thought my heart was going to give right out. I wasn’t mad at you, little miss. I was scared for you.”

The following silence almost breaks you, and you have to force yourself to start breathing again when the ache in your chest becomes too great. “Is that supposed to make it okay?” You whisper into the suddenly fragile stillness. It felt like a pin drop would irreparably shatter everything in the room.

“No, but calling this off isn’t going to make it okay either. For what it’s worth I am sorry for yelling at you, and grabbing your arm like that. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

With a faint start, you reach up to gingerly touch your sore elbow where he’d twisted it. The muscles were just a bit tender, possibly bruised, but still in one piece. “I’m fine.” You lie, squeezing the petite lipstick tube with your other hand. You could feel your anger at him starting to falter and you hated that. Desperately, you try to cling to it. “I’m not sure how you expect me to rationalize this. If you care for me so much and want me to be yours, then what do you expect is going to happen? Will I just be another prisoner here in your fortress? You can’t … Wriothesley, you can’t protect me from everything that goes on here. I wanted to help you. I want to help them! Someone was — someone was hurt, weren’t they?”

You sway on your feet with the rush of smothering dread that comes over you, suddenly feeling lightheaded enough to faint dead away. The blood, the knife, the tangle of bodies and limbs. It all flashes across your mind in a nauseating stream of images, but he’s standing there next to you in the time it takes you to blink. Carefully, he reaches out to steady you by the shoulders.

You let him do it because … because you’re not so sure you can steady yourself anymore.

“I was worried about this. Come on, let's get you sitting in the chair.”

“Wriothesley - -“ You mewl, weakly pushing at him, but he won’t hear it. “You always do this to me!”

“Just try to relax a little bit.” He tries to soothe you. “I’m not silencing you or brushing you off, sweetheart. We can still talk but you need to sit down before you hurt yourself. I’m not sure what I would even do if you busted your head open from hitting it on something in here.”

The note of genuine concern in his voice, so soft and hushed, is what convinces you to comply, and certainly not the mental image of you bleeding out there on his floor. It was almost enough to make you regurgitate everything in your stomach right down to the bile.

Reluctantly, you let him guide you back into the chair. He hovers over you for a moment to make sure you’re properly situated first and then, much to your gaping surprise, he sinks down on one knee to peer up at you from below. You can’t exactly hide your face like this, so you just stare at him in silent, miserable wonder.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully, pretty girl. Will you do that for me?” You offer him a brief nod, too drained to fight it anymore. Too tired to fight with him. Too sick. “Both of those men are going to be just fine. Relatively speaking, of course. I’m sure they’ll wish otherwise once I properly get my hands on them, but neither of them sustained any life threatening injuries today. No one is going to die just because you weren’t there to do anything about it.”

Your heart seems to freeze over with something you don’t recognize. Something you don’t want to recognize, and you start to pull back, too stunned to even respond. But he reaches up to clutch your wrists in his big hands and he holds you in place, preventing you from retreating.

“It’s okay. Just listen.” He goes on, not giving you a chance to throw up your walls or come up with something blithe to say. “I finally understood why you act the way you do when you told us about your father the other night. You’re a lovely girl. So clever and strong willed, and terribly, terribly passionate about everything you take on in this world. Your ideas for prison reform and rehabilitation. The way you just want the best for everyone. How you put up with me. You’re the sweetest little thing I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing but no matter how much you might want to, you just can’t save everyone. It simply isn’t possible. Some people don’t want to be saved. Some won’t let you save them. Others are simply a lost cause. You have to understand that on some level even if you aren’t happy about it … right?”

Wriggling one of your hands free of his hold, you reach up to furiously swipe at the tears suddenly streaming down your face. “Of course I know that, you big oaf! I’m not stupid.”

“Then tell me what you thought you were going to do back there. What was going through your head that would make you get that close to such a big fight? Huh?”

You draw a quick breath, so sure you had the answer right on the tip of your tongue, but your words fail you at the last minute. Hesitating, you slowly close your mouth and then try again. Still, it won’t come out. Suddenly you wished for the courage of your anger back.

“It’s alright, sweetheart.” Softly shushing you, Wriothesley smooths his thumb over the still captured wrist in his hand with sedate, comforting circles of the calloused pad. “Take your time if you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”

A threadbare, wet little laugh bursts out of you. “I’m afraid you might not like the answer, your grace …”

“That’s alright. I won’t get mad.” Bending over your lap, he presses a firm kiss to the back of your hand. “I promise.”

With a great deal of effort, you manage to suck in a faltering breath and it all comes rushing out in a sudden stream. “I was worried about you. I’m not sure why, but … I kept thinking back on what happened with George. Maybe it doesn’t even make any sense. It probably doesn’t. It’s just — I was so scared that you were going to show up to put a stop to the fighting and … hurt someone in the process.”

Wriothesley lets that ruminate for a long beat, just idly toying with your hand while he seems to deliberate over something. At length, he finally speaks again. “Why does it bother you so much to think about me causing harm to others? You don’t really believe I’m above acts of violence, do you?”

“It’s not exactly that …” You tell him slowly, thinking that was a very strange way to word such a question. “It’s just hard for me to make any sense of it in my mind. The strong, handsome, sometimes annoyingly affable duke who I shared a bed with and … the frightening prison warden who can hurt people without a second thought. Where does one end and the other begin, your grace? How will I know for certain what will set you off and what won’t?”

Loosing a clipped, tired sigh, he sits back enough to pin you with an unexpectedly resigned look. “I think the two are probably a little closer to being one and the same than you even think, pretty girl.”

Your brows slowly draw inward to accompany the vague sense of dread that washes over you. “What do you mean?”

“Do you feel up to hearing a story? I’ve been meaning to tell you about this for some time now, but I’m afraid it’s a bit of an unpleasant topic …”

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

Listless and drained of the energy to do much of anything else, you roll over in your bed to stare up at the ceiling. It had been almost a week now since you’d shared this space with Wriothesley and somehow everything had changed so drastically in that time that you weren’t even sure if you were ever going to occupy it with him again.

His parents?

You’d never heard of anything quite so cruel and disgusting in all your life. Who in their right mind would adopt children just to turn around and sell them for profit? Disposing of those that didn’t find any buyers or the ones who learned of their deep, dark secret. Adopting more. Continuing the cycle. How many orphans had lost their lives before Wriothesley …

At first you almost hadn’t believed him. Didn’t want to believe him. It was hard to process even now when you’d spent countless hours letting it all turn over in your head without end, just trying to make sense of everything, but a kernel of truth had still rung true in his story. Maybe it was the unfaltering way he’d spoken of it, just pure and simple factuality in his voice, or perhaps it was the way he’d looked you straight in the eye while recounting the whole sordid tale. So casually he’d laid his dirty past on your lap like some gruesome little offering.

Well. If nothing else that at least finally explained why he was so unlike any other aristocrat you’d ever known. Why he didn’t seem to fit in. Why he was so rough around the edges and uncouth, and ill mannered, and rascally to the nth degree.

He was … he was actually not that much different from you.

That was almost as hard to rationalize in your mind as the fact he’d killed his parents — not without reason; even you couldn’t say he didn’t have good cause, or at least an understandable motive for doing it — but still. He’d killed not just one but two people. No wonder breaking someone’s arm had seemed like such a nonissue to him. It really wasn’t that big of a deal in comparison, relatively speaking.

“Gods, I hate this …”

Your ceiling doesn’t respond. It doesn’t offer you any comfort or advice, or even a friendly pat on the shoulder in consolation. The flat had never felt quite so resoundingly empty and lonely before, and you’re distantly aware of children playing outside in the near distant street through the window on the opposite wall. Children. His parents. Dead. Your own father, dead. Stabbed. The knife, the blood, the limbs, the bodies, the scuffle of feet on the metal floor, the - -

Lurching up off the bed, you manage to grab for the little garbage bin in the corner with just enough time to spare for you to retch into it. You were making yourself sick. All this thinking and stressing, and agonizing was catching up to you.

You couldn’t stay locked up in here another moment longer.

Quickly cleaning yourself up and getting dressed, you practically run out of your apartment just to escape the buzz in your head. It doesn’t exactly work though. Not really anyway, and you spend a very long time just walking around the city without any destination or higher thought process in mind. You weren’t even really sure where you were going when your head was such a mess of static white noise, but you do start to feel marginally better the more fresh air you breathe in and the more the sun caresses over your face.

At least it had more comfort to provide than your impartial, uncaring ceiling.

So caught up in your low mood, you almost walk right past him — the only thing registering vaguely in your peripheral is the Melusine shaped figure and the tall man standing with her — but then the soft little ‘oh’ that floats after you turns your head. You’re very surprised to suddenly find monsieur Neuvillette standing before you like that, as if it was a totally normal thing for him to be doing.

“What a pleasant surprise.” He starts to smile, small and polite, and kind, but something in your face gives him pause. The pull at his brow is so slight and minuscule that it barely even registers, but you still recognize when he looks at you in concern. “Are you alright, mademoiselle? You look as if something is troubling you.”

You start to tell him you’re fine, not to worry about it, you’re just feeling a little under the weather is all, hahaa — but then you think better of it. Something curls in the back of your mind. A memory, so close to being forgotten your fingers slip right through it the first few times you make a grab at it. What had Wriothesley said about the honorary Iudex once before …

Then it hits you.

Your heart twists, and you impulsively close the distance between you and him. “Monsieur Neuvillette, do … do you have a moment to speak with me?”

He looks a little surprised at both the close proximity as much as the tinge of sorrow in your voice but, still, he gives you a gracious nod all the same. “Of course I can spare a few minutes. Although I’m not sure how much I’ll actually be able to assist you, mademoiselle, I will make every attempt to be of help. Shall we find a bench to sit and chat?”

You jerk your head in the affirmative, already scanning the area while he says his farewells to the Melusine he’s been speaking to when you happened to pass by. This was almost suspiciously coincidental to run into him in such a way and a part of you doesn’t exactly trust it, but you were a little too desperate for answers to let any of that dissuade you. Finally spotting a street bench just down the road, you make a quick beeline for it with Neuvillette close in tow. Luckily his legs were more than long enough for him to keep up without facilitating the need to hurry.

Anxiously, you peer over at him. “Sorry for taking up your time like this, your honor. I’ll try to make it brief. It’s about Wriothesley.”

He sends you a slow, strange look. “I do hope you’ll forgive me for saying so, but I didn’t expect it to be about anything else. Has he done something to upset you?”

Somehow you actually find the grace to be embarrassed about that, and your cheeks start to grow warm. “Yes. Sort of. But not really. Oh, monsieur Neuvillette, I am simply at a loss!”

Making it to the bench not a moment too soon, you half collapse onto the seat while your unexpected companion moves to get himself situated beside you, sitting a polite distance away. For a long moment you just slouch there, having no idea where to even start while city life continues to move on without you but he’s patient in a way that feels infinite and it slowly puts you at ease.

So you tell him everything.

Well, most everything. You leave out the sordid details of your sexual, oft times confusing relationship, of course, but you tell him all about what happened with George, the fight you’d had afterward, the way Wriothesley made you feel grounded and safe most days but then just the thought of him hurting someone sent you straight into a panic. You finish with the brawl at the prison, telling him both sides of the story so he knew that you weren’t the only one who’d been frightened. You’d scared Wriothesley too, and you believed it. He didn’t really have any reason to lie about that.

And although Neuvillette does look mildly uncomfortable at certain parts, he does indeed listen and he listens well. Just getting it all off your chest makes you feel worlds better, not having had anyone to talk to this entire time. But at length, after a moment of careful consideration, the Chief Justice of Fontaine finally draws a carefully tempered breath.

“I see. That is indeed quite the harrowing tale. Not that I’m particularly surprised, mind you. It seems like romance between people most often is. I’d say that’s relatively par for the course … however, I believe what makes this situation between you and mister Wriothesley so different from the norm is that neither of you are normal people.”

You can’t quite hide your reaction, but he’s quick to soothe you.

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, mademoiselle. Please do not fret over my poor choice of words. What I meant to say is just that both of you are exceptional people who have lived very exceptional lives. There isn’t anything mundane about either of you.”

Was he — praising you? “Thank you, monsieur Neuvillette. That’s very kind of you to say, but - -“

“But that’s not what you wanted to hear from me, is it?” At your nod, he tips his head slightly to one side. “Do you doubt the authenticity of mister Wriothesley’s story?”

“No. I believe him. I just can’t imagine he’d ever lie about something like that and that wouldn’t even begin to explain why? What could he possibly get out of it?” Sighing wearily, you fix your attention on your hands where they’re neatly folded in your lap. You were so tired. “I suppose I just want you to tell me … is it true? What he told me his adoptive parents were doing?”

“I’m afraid so. There was a thorough investigation, of course, and the evidence was conclusive. I felt nothing but sympathy for mister Wriothesley when he stood before me in court, and even now I can’t imagine how he must have felt learning the truth or how he had to make his decision to react in the face of something so terrible.”

“And you still sentenced him to prison?”

“I did.”

A long stretch of quiet passes between the two of you, interspersed only by the darkening sky overhead that sends much of the crowd out on the street looking for cover from the sudden storm clouds overhead. Neither you nor Neuvillette were concerned about it enough to move from your bench, though.

“Do you think,” You venture at last. “If he’d made a different decision and his parents had been the ones to stand before you in court, would you have given them the same sentence?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t even hesitate. “Worse, in fact. The number of laws they broke was substantially greater than his … two charges.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, turning everything over and choosing your next words carefully. “Do you think he’d kill someone again, monsieur Neuvillette?”

So slowly it’s almost eerie, he turns to look at you there on the bench. “If the need ever arose, yes. I haven’t a doubt in my mind about that. Mister Wriothesley is a truly steadfast and resolute individual. Not once did he ask me for leniency nor did he try to excuse his actions. He was well aware that he’d committed not just one but two very serious crimes and he was fully prepared to accept whatever the punishment for that might be. But he is also a very kind and gracious person as well, mademoiselle. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that. If he was anything other than the way I’ve just described I would not have fought so hard to make him the Duke of Meropide. I didn’t go to such lengths simply out of a sense of guilt or anything as sentimental as that.”

Blinking owlishly, you turn to find him giving you a very soft, almost secretive little smile.

“If you want my honest opinion on the matter,” He goes on in a gentle voice. “I believe that there is a difference between someone who is a murderer and a person who has killed. Mister Wriothesley would fit into the latter category, don’t you think? I’ve seen nothing to suggest he felt any joy in killing his parents. It was a grim task that he took upon himself, and he did so to protect his siblings as well as to stop any future children from becoming victims of the same scheme. If he hadn’t acted as he did, if he’d simply allowed them to dispose of him after learning the truth, then who can really say how many more innocent lives would have been destroyed in the interim since then? Incidentally, in regards to more present matters, I have reason to suspect that this is how he views you as well.”

You sit up a little straighter. “Me?”

“Yes, mademoiselle. I do pray you don’t misunderstand my meaning in saying this, but there is in fact a certain kind of innocence in you that I can see as well. Had I not seen it I might not have been quite so willing to introduce you to Lady Furina. She’s the same way, you know. Her heart is often in the right place, but she … ah, I suppose that isn’t really relevant right now, is it? What I mean to say is just that you are very kind and passionate when it comes to the feelings and wellbeing of others. I think mister Wriothesley wants to protect that innocence, if you’ll allow him to.”

You have to try very hard not to start blushing at that. Goodness, you hadn’t expected to have this conversation turned right back around on you like this. “T - that’s all very sweet of you to say, your honor, but … do you really think it’s feasible? If I’m going to be with him — if we were to … wed then wouldn’t it stand to reason that I would spend a great deal of my time inside the fortress? If he’s so busy trying to protect me that he won’t even let me help him when there’s a problem then is there really even any point to it? Wouldn’t I just be like a bird in a cage then?”

Thoughtfully, Neuvilette touches fingers to his chin in consideration. “I do see where your concerns lie. While I am certainly no expert on the topic, it is my understanding that such things are usually worked out and compromised between the two participating parties with the understanding that their love for one another makes such efforts worthwhile. If this is something that you want to reach an understanding with mister Wriothesley on then I suspect you will have to work together to rectify it.”

A pause.

“Do you love him?”

“Yes.” You don’t even stop to think about it.

Suddenly realizing what you’ve just said, however, you lurch forward with a strangled gasp. The quiet sound of Neuvillette chuckling beside you draws your attention around, and you just stare at him in dumbfounded silence.

“You are precious, I will certainly give you that.” He says, trying to hide his lingering smile. “I understand what mister Wriothesley sees in you, and I think you now have your answer. If your feelings for him seem like they’re worth the trouble of finding a compromise then you should go to him. Based on how you’ve described the situation, I don’t doubt that he’s waiting for you.”

You sit there, frozen for a long stretch, before decisively nodding your head. “I think you’re right. It’s worth a shot at least, isn’t it?” You start to get up but think better of it, quickly sitting back down again. “Wait. I have one more question, monsieur Neuvillette. You and lady Furina …”

Slowly, his brows lift in vague surprise. “Is that really of any importance right now?”

“No, you’re right. I’m sorry. That was rude of me, your honor.” Jumping up to your feet, you shyly turn to look at him with a nervous little smile. “Thank you for having this discussion with me. I really appreciate it. You’re a good listener.”

He offers you a polite smile back, hands lacing together atop his bent knee. “Thank you, mademoiselle. I do try. I’ve had a great many years of practice to hone the skill. And …”

“And?”

“Please do not give much thought to your last question. I’m sure Lady Furina will be happy to divulge the details of our relationship in short order. The general idea of it, at least.”

You don’t miss the edge of exasperation in his voice by a long shot, and you soon find yourself grinning from ear to ear. It was funny, wasn’t it? This outwardly serious yet soft man, and the quirky, dramatic girl seeing over all matters, big or small, in Fontaine together. They made for quite the pair in your eyes.

Was this how you and Wriothesley looked to anyone looking in from the outside?

You’re so caught up in this fluttering thought when you take your leave of Neuvillette that you almost don’t notice that the sky has cleared back up without dropping so much as a single bead of rain.

You’re so focused on trying to figure out what you should say to Wriothesley, how to apologize for all the mean things you’d said in your anger and how to work this out with him that you barely even register making your way through the city.

You’re already mentally penning your letter to him when you finally make it back to your flat and bring your head up to reach for the door — only to nearly jump right out of your skin when you find Wriothesley himself standing right there on your doorstep.

“Your grace!” You gasp in barefaced shock, making his mouth pull in a lazy, almost tentative smirk as he turns to face you there on the step.

“In the flesh. Hope you’re not too disappointed to see me.”

“I’m not disappointed at all.” You rush to say, and it surprises both of you given the way his brows lift and your heart skips a beat.

“Alright, I admit that wasn’t the reaction I was expecting … what are you up to?”

“Nothing!” You huff, in the middle of digging around in your pocket for your key. “I just thought about it some more and I think I was unfair to you. I owe you an apology, your grace.”

This time his brows take a very expeditious trip up to his hairline. “I’m sorry — do you want to run that by me again? I don’t think I quite heard you correctly.”

Floundering under that uncharacteristically wary look from him, you self consciously look elsewhere as you fumble to get the key out. Damn him for never making anything easy on you by simply reacting the way any normal man would. “Do not be like that, you scoundrel! I’m being serious here! I just … I said some very unnecessary things to you the other day, in your office. I’m truly sorry about that and I don’t actually want to call things off between us. I promise. But I think we need to have a very serious discussion about our expectations going forward. Can we do that?”

He intently studies you for a long, drawn out moment, standing there together on your stoop. You don’t even realize you’ve been holding the key this whole time, half poised to click into the door, until he reaches out and gently takes it from you.

“Of course we can, little miss. We can talk about it as much as you’d like.”

You’d expected to feel relief at that but, watching him get the front door unlocked and opened, you actually start to feel sick with nerves again. You were a little too strung out from spending almost three days cooped up inside your flat and agonizing over the situation. Abruptly, you realize that you aren’t even sure when you’d last ate something was. Had you thrown up anything of substance earlier, or just bile?

Wriothesley’s hand sliding across the small of your back makes you feel marginally better though, and you let him guide you into the apartment. He locks the door behind him as he always does, evidently not wholly trusting your neighborhood, and then steers you over to the loveseat against the far wall.

“Do you want something to drink?”

“No. Just sit with me.” You murmur, tugging him down to join you.

The brush of his thigh against your leg brings you a certain amount of comfort too, you’re a bit surprised to find. You’d thought for sure you wouldn’t have been able to look at him ever again without feeling fear and revulsion after learning of his past, irreparably dooming your relationship forever, but that is not what happens. Instead you feel yourself warming to him and it does wonders to soften the tense, almost awkward atmosphere between the two of you. But, still, it’s a little hard to figure out what to say when you’d been expecting to have to write him first, or make the trip out to Meropide to see him. You’d expected to have the time to plan and script out what you wanted to say, how you wanted to say it. This was so unexpectedly sudden that for a moment you just flounder.

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, only a few minutes. I was actually just starting to give serious consideration to the idea of kicking the door in though.”

The soft note of humor in his voice makes you laugh even though you try very hard not to. “You are truly hopeless, your grace.”

“Apologies for that.” He lightly, playfully nudges you with his leg. “I thought you were treating me like a boogeyman you needed to hide from, and I just couldn’t bear the thought. I was starting to get desperate. All jokes aside though, I’m glad you wanted to talk.”

“Me too …”

Decisively, you turn on the cushions to fully face him.

“Let me say my peace first,” You reach across his lap to carefully take his hand, and he gladly turns the palm up to lace his fingers with yours. He doesn’t say anything though, giving you your chance to speak, so you force your lungs to expand on a shuddering breath. “I feel no ill will for you, Wriothesley. None at all. I understand why you do the things you do. It’s to protect me, isn’t it? The only way you’ve ever known how to protect anything.”

He nods once, further bolstering your courage.

“I appreciate it. All of it. Everything you’ve ever done for me. It means more than I could ever hope to put into words, and I’d like to someday be able to give you even a fraction of that same happiness back. But I need you to understand that — that I’m not helpless. I probably seem it from your perspective, but I’m not. I was much more rattled by what you did to him than I was about George actually grabbing me, and the other day I was so caught up worrying about what you were going to do that I didn’t even have a chance to be worried about myself. You were right that I shouldn’t have gotten that close to that fight when there was nothing at all I could have done other than get in the way but … you understand why I did it, don’t you?”

Another nod. “I do, little miss, and I’m sorry for putting you in that kind of situation. In trying to protect you, it seems I just pushed you closer to the danger.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not upset with you for it. I just want us to … find a compromise.”

Wriothesley quirks a brow at that. “Compromise? That doesn’t sound like you at all. You’re even more obstinate and stubborn than I am.”

“Do not tease me.” You warn, though it lacks any real bite. “I’m not sure how much this will mean to you right now, but I realize you’ve put up with a great deal of my nonsense this whole time so … I would like to put up with yours too. If you’ll let me. I’d like that very much.”

The corners of his mouth slowly tug up in a soft, teasing little smirk. “Oho? And is that your way of confessing your feelings for me, pretty girl?”

“I said don’t tease me!”

Rumbling a soft laugh, he gives your hand a tight squeeze and lifts it to his mouth for a hard kiss pressed into the backs of your knuckles. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to tease you right this moment. But even if you can’t say it yet, that doesn’t mean I won’t.” Another kiss, one that lingers this time. “I love you, little miss. You’re very special to me even when you’re being difficult or throwing a fit over something, but especially when you get that tiny wrinkle between your brow. I find you irresistible and charming even on your worst days, and I wouldn’t trade your nonsense for the world. I love you, and that’s why I’ve tried to protect you so fiercely this whole time.”

“O - oh,” Quaking there on the couch, you shyly avert your gaze, not having expected such an — ardent proclamation from him. But Wriothesley only brings his unoccupied hand up to cup the side of your cheek, tipping your face up at him with a gentle nudge.

“Don’t hide from me, sweetheart. I’ll tell you as many times as it takes until you’re ready to accept it.” Bending close, he presses his lips to your nose. “I love you.” Your fluttering eyelashes. “I love you.” Your cheek. “I love you beyond all reason and logical sense, but I love you just the same. Thank you for still being willing to have me.”

“You needn’t thank me for that …”

“I do, precious girl. I love you, so I’m going to show you my gratitude for that.” Tipping his head slightly, Wriothesley finally finds your mouth and he kisses you for a long time until it feels like you’re sinking to the bottom of a peacefully still lake. You don’t exactly know what to think of it. All of it. But you decide that you don’t really need to think about it at all when he pulls back just enough to look at you with those pale sapphires in his eyes. “It might take me some getting used to, but I promise I’ll work on giving you more freedom when you’re in Meropide. I still don’t want you wandering around by yourself unaccompanied but I think I can let you off my apron strings for a little while.”

He chuckles at the flash of annoyance across your face, giving your cheek a soft, affectionate pinch to make you squirm.

“If you can promise not to worry so much about what I’m going to do,” He continues warmly. “And worry more about yourself, then I can promise to keep my fists in check. That doesn’t mean it won’t ever happen where I won’t need to use them again, but I do solemnly swear to not give you any reason to think the worst of me. For better or worse, you hold my leash. Your command is mine to obey.”

You pin him with a wry look as you untangle your fingers from his and bring your hands up to curve over the strong ridge of his jaw, tugging him in closer. “My faithful guard dog?”

“Until my dying breath.”

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

Wriothesley leaves, and then he comes back later that night at your invitation to have dinner together. He’d mentioned that he wanted to make sure everything was still in order at the prison first and also grab an overnight bag for himself while he was at it, and you were very glad for the chance to get yourself situated in that time. You enjoyed a very long, very relaxing bath, ate something for the first time in who knows how many days, and even found the opportunity to take a much needed nap on your loveseat. By the time he returns, you’re feeling pleasantly refreshed and eager to spend the evening with him. You hadn’t even realized just how much you’d actually missed getting to see him and talk with him until after the storm clouds had passed, and you were eager to rekindle the intimacy you were now used to sharing.

The two of you end up in your kitchen, cooking together for the first time, and it is decidedly nice to have to shuffle around each other in the cramped little space. He’s very soft and tender with you, as if making up for the time spent apart, while he quietly murmurs that not-so-dreaded-anymore ‘L’ word at every possible opportunity he gets. His hands brush yours often, and he occasionally grabs handfuls of your hips to pull you in against him. At one point those warm, lingering embraces even morph into a slow dance around your kitchen, and he gently sways you while the roast simmers in the oven.

You’re sure it has to be impossible for anyone to feel any happier than you do in that moment. For as frustrating and headache inducing he could be, Wriothesley really was sweet. You wished you hadn’t said all those mean things to him in his office but he was willing to forgive it, and you were likewise willing to forgive him for the way he’d yelled at you.

It almost seemed silly in retrospect, actually, but you’d gotten a little too used to his always calm demeanor, the deliberately careful way he handled you with intent and purpose. You’d almost forgotten what he was in that time, but you vowed not to let it happen again. If you really were to hold his leash then it wouldn’t stand to reason for you to worry so much about what he was going to do or what he might do. You just needed to trust him to do what was right by you, whatever that might be.

You sit at the table and eat together, discussing what had gone on at the prison since you’d last been there a few days ago. Wriothesley assures you everything is going well, that the two instigators from before were very much still recovering and would soon be on the receiving end of a personal visit from the duke. He also takes the time to mention that Sigewinne sent her regards, and that she hoped to see you in the infirmary again soon. Thinking back on the last conversation you’d had with her before everything blew up past the point of recognition, you soon find fluster settling over you and of course Wriothesley doesn’t miss it.

“Should I even ask what’s got you making that face?” He teases, sitting back in his chair with a glass decanter of whiskey clutched loosely in his hand. Just smiling over at you. Content and relaxed. He looked like a king on his throne.

You weren’t much a fan of harder spirits and had only picked up the bottle for him when it started to look like he would be spending much more time at your flat, and you somewhat anxiously twiddle the stem of your wine glass for a distraction. “It’s nothing, really. Kind of silly, if i'm being honest.”

“I think I might be in the mood for silly.” He murmurs, sending you a meaningful look. “Out with it, pretty girl. I’m all ears.”

Unable to stop yourself, you fix him with a vaguely suspicious frown. Sigewinne hadn’t told him about all of that nonsense … had she? “The last time I was there, right before that mess with the inmates, she gave me something. Makeup.”

“Oh? That doesn’t seem so strange for her. Nothing to make you start squirming, anyway.”

You watch Wriothesley lift the stout glass to his mouth, and he watches you back over the rim while he sips. It was like you were playing a game of chicken or something. But surely he didn’t know what she’d said about the makeup, otherwise he would have been teasing you for it. You almost start to think he’s fishing for something, but then it hits you.

The subtle heat in his eyes had nothing at all to do with Sigewinne or the gift she’d given you. He was feeling a different kind of hunger that could be satiated with neither food nor drink, and certainly not makeup.

A warm tendril curls in your lower belly, prompting you to shift in your seat and you smile at him now. He’d given you this power because he wanted you to have it. Had said so himself. It seemed like it would have been a waste to squander it, and you quickly decide you can play this game with him a little longer.

“She gave me lipstick, your grace.”

Lowering his glass, he tips his head to one side in thought. Obviously interested. Clearly curious. The scoundrel.

“I see. That was very nice of her, wasn’t it? She very much enjoys giving gifts to those she likes, so I’m sure that won’t be the last one you receive.” One of his dark brows lifts as if to say ‘your turn, little miss” and you start to wonder how long you’ll be able to last when he looked so terribly ravishing like that.

“Yes, I was very flattered. The last time she said she had something for me it was one of those awful milkshakes you warned me about, so it was a relief not to receive another. It’s a very pretty shade of lipstick but she did say some interesting things when she gave it to me, though.”

“Hm? Like what?”

Inching to the edge of your chair, you lean towards him slightly. “Miss Sigewinne informed me that you’re rather fond of the color red, your grace, and that was why she gave it to me. So that I might wear it for you.”

The not so subtle look that flashes behind his eyes makes your pulse quicken. He really was bestial at times, most notably where you were concerned it seemed. To think that you could so easily rile him like this …

“She gave you red lipstick?” He drawls. “That’s dangerous.”

You blink at that. “Dangerous, your grace?”

Inclining his chin in a pointed nod, Wriothesley stretches to set his near empty glass on the table. “Very. Because now I want to make a mess of it with my cock.”

It feels like you’ve been struck by a bolt of lightning, and your back snaps straight with a powerful shudder. “That does sound dangerous …” You murmur, suddenly feeling ten degrees hotter than before, and he faintly hums as if in solemn agreement. Licking your lips, you decide to take the plunge. “The last time you were here when we … slept together, you said you had something in mind to help me. What was it?”

“Are you interested in hearing all the sordid details, pretty girl?”

“No,” You subtly shift at the thought. “I mean, I do. Yes. But mostly I’m just curious, is all.

He takes a moment to consider you from across the table, and you just start to wonder if perhaps it was too soon after your biggest fight with the duke yet to expect that kind of intimacy when he draws a deliberate breath. “I brought everything I think I’ll need, if you’d like a demonstration.”

Somehow your surprise manages to overshadow the pang of wanting you feel low in your gut. “You came prepared?”

“Yes, but not in the way I can tell you’re thinking.” He chuckles quietly. “The day after the fundraiser and I returned to the fortress I made my preparations then. Everything was already packed and ready. I just needed to grab it. I figured it wouldn’t hurt to bring it along just in case. Actually, if you want the truth,”

You sit up a little straighter at the shift in his tone, knowing he was about to say something important.

“I thought perhaps I could leave this particular bag here so we would always have these items on hand whenever you were ready for them. Since it looked like we were making progress in the right direction, I was under the impression that we would be spending more nights together like that. And of course it has some toiletries and such for myself as well.”

“I see,” Dropping his steady gaze, you reach up to fiddle with your fork. “I really am sorry, your grace. For blowing up on you like I did. I didn’t mean to ruin everything.”

“Nonsense. You didn’t ruin anything, little miss. It was just a small hiccup, that’s all. As the saying goes, there’s no use in crying over spilt milk, is there?” Pausing, he studies you for another moment and when he next speaks it's in a softer, rumbling drawl full of suggestion and promise. “The decision is ultimately yours, as it always is, but if you want to give it a go I would be too happy to oblige you.”

You could feel your cheeks starting to grow warm. “It’s not too soon? Or too sudden?”

“I don’t believe it is. Just because we had an argument and you didn’t want to see me for a few days, that doesn’t mean I stopped wanting you in that time.”

Well, when he put it like that …

“May I ask what sort of — items they are?”

“Hm. You’re free to ask, but I don’t think I’m going to tell you.”

Finally bringing your attention back up, you look over at him with no shortage of suspicion. Wriothesley only smiles at you though, his mood amicable and even playful, but you don’t miss the growing heat in his eyes. Not by a country mile.

“Do you remember that little lesson I gave you with my belt not long ago?” He laughs under his breath when you visibly shudder in your seat at the reminder. “Ooh, I thought you would. Don’t fret though, I have no plans of doing that again. Not tonight, at any rate. I just think the lesson is applicable here as well. When you can’t see what’s coming you’re much more … shall we say, persuadable? If I’d told you flat out I was going to spank your cute little bottom with my belt what do you think you would have done?”

You turn that over for a brief moment, and you’re not particularly happy with the answer you come up with. “I would have flown off into hysterics …”

“Good. Every time we play this game you gain a little more self awareness, precious girl. I hope you know how pleased I am with the progress you’ve made in terms of being honest with yourself as much as with others, but most importantly with me.”

It’s difficult not to be at least a bit pleased to hear that, and you find yourself quickly regaining some of your confidence. “So your plan is simply to trick me into it?”

“Something like that,” He relents with another low laugh.

For better or worse you don’t even really need to think about it any further than that. Looking at him over the table, you know you not only want him in that moment but you also trusted him perhaps more than you’d ever thought it was possible to put your blind faith in another person. Even after he’d grabbed you in the heat of his bubbling emotions and raised his voice at you, you’d still wanted him this entire time. Not the fight afterward or even learning of his past had been enough to snuff out what you felt for him. Although it had taken speaking with monsieur Neuvillette for you to truly grasp the full extent of what you held for Wriothesley in your heart, it seemed so obvious to you now.

As clear as any picture taken with the latest kamera model and as pleasing to the eye as a master painter's magnum opus, you could plainly see where this was headed. Not just tonight, but your future as a whole. It was resoundingly, unequivocally with Wriothesley, and you couldn’t so much as fathom the idea of giving any single part of yourself to anyone else the same way. He really was it, wasn’t he? The penultimate result of everything that had lead up to this point.

“I think I’d like to give it a shot, your grace.”

He doesn’t seem surprised, but he doesn’t gloat about it either. Just keeps looking at you with that same unwavering certainty that had slowly picked away at your defenses over time. “Are you sure? Even if you tell me ‘yes’ now, you can still change your mind later.”

You nod. “I understand that, and I’m sure.”

Regarding you for another moment longer, Wriothesley eventually draws a slow inhale that makes his broad shoulders rise. The air seems to shift, becoming anticipatory and static charged as he sedately nudges his chair back and rises to his feet. You watch him come around the table with an eager flutter in your chest, smiling up at him when he comes to stand over your chair.

His hand lifts to tenderly cup the side of your face, and he simply looks at you for a long stretch. Like he was committing the sight of you before him to memory. Then, without a word, he bends at the waist to bring his face close to yours and you happily tip your mouth up to accept the kiss he places there. His lips move with yours in a slow, intoxicating dance that is so soft around the edges yet backed by hard steel and thrumming hunger that it soon robs you of the ability to breathe. It doesn’t take long to have you panting slightly, and when his hand eventually slides down to join the other in unbuttoning your blouse you start to feel a bit lightheaded.

Swaying in your seat, you turn your head to break away from his searing kiss and suck in a lungful of fresh air while he nuzzles against you with a soft murmur of praise. When he tells you how much he’s missed you over the last few days, you tremble and whisper back that you missed him too.

Kissing the side of your neck now, Wriothesley gets your shirt undone down to the waistband of your skirt and gently parts the fabric to expose the bra underneath. He seems largely content to leave you clothed for the time being though, and simply slips one of those big, coarse hands inside to fondle your chest. Coming alive for him, you push your breasts out to further offer them to the possessive squeeze of those blocky fingers as your own come up to clutch at his forearm. Musculature and sinew flex under your fingertips while he kneads the swell of flesh through your brassier, and you can’t help but whine when he pulls back some moments later.

“So impatient, pretty girl.” He softly chides you as he sinks down to the floor where he greedily palms the meat of your thighs, spreading them wide so he can situate himself between them. You can’t quite find the presence of mind to be embarrassed about it though, and you lift your hand to card it through his dark hair.

Tipping his head into the gesture for a brief, savory moment, Wriothesley then bends close to press his mouth to the center of your chest. A barely audible sigh escapes you as he takes his time kissing over the swell of your breasts and teasing the stiff nipples underneath the satiny soft cups before trailing lower. Realizing all at once what he was building up to, you close your fingers around the roots of his hair and give it a fitful little tug.

“Y - your grace …”

“I’ve been thinking about getting to do this again almost nonstop,” He confides in you, broad hands squeezing tight around your waist before dragging lower to inch your skirt up. “I’m not sure you even know how good it felt to finally put my mouth on you after all this time … it was hard not to give into the urge when I had this sweet pussy spread out on my lap or just inches away from my nose, especially when I knew you’d like it if you’d just give it a chance.”

“You do seem to have a good sense for what I’ll like,” Reaching down with your unoccupied hand to grip the side of the chair when his fingers start to creep upward, you angle your hips in invitation for him tug your panties down. His gaze remains locked on yours, head tipped back to watch your reaction, and you’re sure he must be getting a good show. You were still a little embarrassed at having him do this, putting his mouth on such a place, but oh, how badly you wanted it.

Sliding your underwear down and off, he tosses them aside without another thought before going up on his knees so he can shuffle somehow even closer. You’re almost disappointed that he doesn’t go straight for what’s between your legs, but the thought quickly drifts away when he cups your face in both hands and kisses you again. You cling to him while he leisurely claims your mouth, fisting the back of his black button up in a death grip when he eventually reaches down to pull at your bra. Tits soon spilling out over the top, you shudder and whine at the sensation of your nipples freely straining into the still air. He’s quick to oblige you, and a fresh tremor works through you when blunt thumbs carefully brush over the stiffened peaks.

“Oh,” You gasp, pulling from his mouth to sway dizzily in your seat. The sharp pangs of pleasure that race through your nerve endings at just that brief contact has you wanting to squeeze your thighs together but you can’t do that with him kneeling between them.

“You like that, pretty girl? Huh?” Following you, Wriothesley presses another kiss to the corner of your lips. “I’m glad you do, if I’m being honest. These feel so good in my hands.” Another kiss, one that lingers this time. “I think I could play with them all day, if you’d let me.”

Moaning when he plucks at them, almost casually pinching and pulling with his fingers, you tip your face down to watch. The swell of your breasts seems much more pronounced where the rucked under bra is pushing them up slightly, and in the center of them your nipples look so tightly coiled it draws another low sound of wanting out of you. You tremble almost violently when, noticing where your attention is, Wriothesley adjusts his hands to gently flick over them. Up and down, up and down, and then side to side. The tips of your breasts positively ache with the sensation, and you soon find yourself squirming in your seat again.

“I … I want your mouth on me, sir. Please.”

“Ooh, good girl. You know how much I like it when you ask me for things.” Pausing just long enough to give your nipples one last, taunting tug that has you keening, he lowers his hands to knead your thighs instead. “Would you prefer to take it to the bedroom, or will you permit me to do it here?”

You steal a surreptitious glance at the table, the mostly empty plates, the nearly drained glasses. It didn’t even matter. “Here is fine, your grace.”

Rumbling a low sound of approval, he inches the hem of your skirt up a bit more until you feel the waft of cool air against your bare, thoroughly sticky cunt. “I still have every intention of making you sit on my face … but we can save it for later. There��s no rush, after all.”

Whimpering softly as you watch him lean back and then curl those burly arms under your knees, reaching up to grasp your hips, you let him tug you to the very edge of the seat to leave your ass half hanging off. His hold on you is good though, and you don’t even give it a second thought while you run even hotter for him at the sight of your own pussy spread open like this.

“W - were you going to make me do it if I’d chosen the bedroom?”

The smirk that cuts across his roguish mouth assures you just how right you actually were.

“Such a clever girl you are. I knew you’d start to figure out how this works.” Bending his face close, he places a firm kiss to the apex of your mound. “I hope you had a chance to get some rest earlier, by the way. I don’t think I’m going to be done with you until the morning sun comes up.”

You suck in a slow, hissing breath, and plaintively tip your cunt up at him. Sending you a slow look from under the fall of his dark lashes, he gives you another kiss and drags his mouth a pinch lower. The next kiss is pressed right over your slit, making your clit tingle at the distant, featherlight sensation as Wriothesley nudges your thighs more securely over his shoulders, opening his mouth wide to kiss at you a little more deeply. The soft, wet warmth inspires a stiff shudder that makes your legs twitch in the air, a breathy moan slipping out of you a heartbeat later when he works your lips open enough to drag his tongue over petal-smooth creases and folds. You already felt sick with the thrumming tension low in your gut and he’d barely gotten started yet …

Taking his time with it, just savoring the moment, he graces your clit with teasing kitten licks that just further ratchet up your need for something more substantial. It doesn’t last long though, each pass of his tongue steadily becoming firmer, more purposeful, until you practically jolt right off the chair when he finally drags the flat of it right over the sensitive pleasure button. Squeaking at the powerful tremor, you reach down to grab at his hair again and squeeze your thighs around his head. It’s too late for you to dissuade him though, his face already buried so deep in your cunt that you couldn’t have closed him out even if you’d wanted to. Arching against him, you let your eyes slip shut and just focus on the sensation.

His mouth felt good sinking into the soft give of your cunt, so strong and unyielding, yet fleshy and pliant at the same time. The way he breathes in deep without pulling back sends a fresh rush to your quaking guts, as does the hot groan he puffs out against your slit a moment later. The tip of his tongue is soft and probing, while the broad flat of it is a little rough, and he seems to take a great deal of joy in torturing you with it centered directly over your clit. Everything is so warm and wet, and overwhelmingly mind numbing that you quickly lose yourself in it.

Even when he nudges further down to swirl around your entrance and lap up the accumulated slick there, you soon realize you’re just as weak for this as you were with the more direct contact. Thinking back on what he’d said while instructing you how to pleasure him, it made sense. The whole area was sensitive — and you outright gasp as he presses his tongue inside you, just breaching your body.

“Oh!” The sound punches out of you in surprise, thrumming muscles clamping down on the intrusion but it’s too soft and slippery to brace against. He just wriggles it around inside you, teasing the suggestion of true penetration, and you suddenly feel faint.

Was this how his cock would feel inside you?

“Aahhnn … oh, gods! That’s - -“

Growling faintly into your pussy, Wriothesley pulls his tongue back and then pushes it back in, slowly fucking into your hole like he had all the time in the world to do this at his own leisure. Maybe he did. He probably would have been happy to make the time if he didn’t, but it doesn’t take long for your squeezing cunt to start tingling with warning tremors. You couldn’t take it.

“Please!” You whine, giving his hair a weak little tug. “Your mouth — oooh!”

Heaving a deeply masculine sound, he drags his tongue out of you and then back up to your throbbing clit. He gives it a wet, smacking kiss that makes your toes curl, and then seals his lips around it to briefly suckle at you. Delirious and sweaty, you twist there in the chair and he responds with a muted shake of his head. Just like that last time that jostle against all the nerve endings catches you off guard and you start to tip as he directs his tongue to the epicenter of your body once again.

“Oh! Oh, oh, Wri — aahhn! Wriothesley!” Somehow you manage to find purchase along his back and, digging your heel into his firm shoulder, you somewhat inelegantly jut your cunt up into his mouth. You chase that vibrating pinprick with a faltering moan, struggling just to get enough air in your lungs, and he lets out a stifling hot moan while you ride his face.

Your distressed moaning quickly takes on a dire tinge like this, and your hips grind to a shuddering halt when you feel the pressure start to collapse in on itself. Helpfully, he uses his big hands where they’re still clutching your hips to nudge you up against him again, and again, and again, forcing you to keep humping his mouth even when your legs shake too hard for you to do it yourself. Release slams into you like a sack of bricks, so suddenly and so powerful it was like it had snuck up on you. You can’t help the shriek of delight you let out as you mindlessly writhe in the chair, gripping his hair so hard your knuckles scream in protest, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

Same as last time, he continues to eat you out well past the point of comfort and he only stops once your shudders turn into sensitive twitching and you keen like some hurt little thing. Only then does he finally pull away, but not without one last kiss pressed into your cunt, and then he sits back to peer up at you. The noticeable glisten of moisture coating the lower half of his face nearly sends you into another fit of convulsions.

“Oh, Wriothesley - -“

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? I’m right here.” Leaning into you and nearly folding you in half in the process when your knees were still hooked over his shoulders, he claims your mouth in another slow, possessive kiss. You moan very softly at the taste of yourself but still gladly accept his tongue when it slips out over your lips to coat your tastebuds in it. That you don’t even have the wherewithal to be ashamed for it anymore gives you a helium sense of liberation as you clutch him against you, kissing him back fervently.

But of course he eventually pulls away, and you can’t help but sigh into the warm haze surrounding the two of you. For a long moment you just look at one another, and then his mouth pulls into one of those secretive little smiles he was always so fond of giving you.

“Ready for the next round, pretty girl?”

Unable to stop it, you smile too. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Loosing a terse, anticipatory sigh, Wriothesley leans back to untangle himself from you. His arms immediately twine around your waist though, and you let out a soft squeak when he hauls you right up against him as he stands.

Grabbing hold of his shoulders to steady yourself, you look down at him with widened eyes. You weren’t used to being quite so high off the ground, but he’s strong and sure underneath you, and he doesn’t seem to falter even a moment as he turns to make his way to the bedroom.

“I think you’re really going to like what I have in store for you tonight. Are you going to be a brave girl for me?”

“Don’t tease me …”

He chuckles, nudging the door open and then kicking it shut behind him again. “Teasing you is all I’m going to be doing here in a minute.”

You aren’t entirely sure what to make of that, but he doesn’t give you a chance to overthink it. Depositing you onto the bed with a muted bounce, he turns to retrieve his bag from the corner. A nervous flutter comes to life in your gut and you start to reach up to close your shirt, or at least fix your bra, but decide better of it. You had a feeling you would soon be losing all your clothes anyway, so you just watch him come back to the bed where he sets the plain luggage on the corner of the mattress.

Sending you a slow, knowing smirk when he sees your tits still out, Wriothesley opens the latch and digs around for a moment. You find yourself squirming in place, wondering what it is he’s going to pull out, but all you feel is a mild sense of surprise when he withdraws a silky strip of red fabric. It looked like it could have perhaps been a tie in another life.

“That’s it?” You blurt, confusion coloring your voice.

“There’s more. Just be patient for once.” Mirth dancing in the blue of his eyes, he sets the item down on top of the bag for a moment before reaching for you. His hands slide into place against your cheeks, and you breathe out a content sigh as he tips your face up at him. “My sweet girl … has anyone ever told you how positively insatiable you are?”

“Only for you.”

“Good answer.” Humming faintly, he drags his hands over your neck and then lower still to tug your shirt out of the waistband. “Alright, let’s get you undressed then. As much as I love to simply look at you, we don’t want the night to get away from us do we?”

“Will you take off your clothes as well?” You ask, shrugging out of your top while he sets his sights on the latch of your skirt.

“Eventually, yes. Remember what I just said about being patient?”

Huffing, you lift your hips so he can relieve you of the last of your clothes, everything save the thigh highs you had on. You’re a little surprised when he leaves them and reaches for the length of silk, but somehow having just your legs still covered almost seems to highlight the rest of your nudity. It felt … stark, somehow, and you shiver when your nipples tightly picker in response.

“Hold your hands up for me?” He prompts, bringing your attention back around. Blinking owlishly, you do just that and your heart stutters a beat when he starts to twine the strip of fabric around your wrists with sure, practiced motions.

“S - sir?”

“Don’t worry, we’re going to take this one step at a time. I have a sneaking suspicion you’re going to very much enjoy being restrained by the time we’re through but if you truly think you can’t handle it, just say the word. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure that doesn’t happen though.”

You swallow. Hard. “What are you going to do?”

“That is for me to know, and for you to find out.” Putting the finishing touches on the knot, Wriothesley slips a finger under the bindings to test the give. It doesn’t budge. “How does that feel, little miss?”

“… secure.”

He gives a small laugh. “Excellent. Now, where is that lipstick Sigewinne gave you?”

Your head comes up in surprise, but then you remember what he’d said at the table. The powerful tremor that tears through you very nearly robs you of the ability to breathe. He was going to … he really planned to - -

“It’s on the desk.”

Reaching up, he gives your cheek a brief pinch before turning to shuffle across the room and you just sit there in vibrating anticipation, trying to process where this was going. It was quite clear, of course, and you weren’t in suspense so much as you were … looking forward to it.

You had rather liked putting your mouth all over him.

His hand is suddenly under your chin, turning your face up to look at him. You give a faint startle, having been so lost in your whirlwind thoughts that you hadn’t even noticed him coming back, but he just smiles down at you.

“Not getting distracted, are we?”

“… n - no, sir.”

He doesn’t look like he quite believes that, but he doesn’t press you any further. Drawing a patient breath, he retracts his hand in favor of uncapping the petite tube in the other and then bends close. “I’m no expert in such delicate matters but I promise I’ll give it my best effort. May I?”

He wanted to put it on you himself?

Slowly, you nod. “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you, little miss.” Tone dropping in concentration, he fixes his attention on your lips and brings the applicator up. “You are much too kind to me.”

You almost find yourself smiling but you quickly school your features. The last thing you wanted was to make him draw a hard red line across your face or, possibly worse, break the delicately formed lipstick column, and yet … despite what he’d said to the contrary, Wriothesley’s hand remains unexpectedly steady throughout the process. He’s very careful about the whole thing, not nearly as quick as you likely would have been, but you can tell he’s doing a good job staying within the outline of your lips. You never would have expected it to feel so nice having your lover apply makeup to your face like that and, although you likely wouldn’t have let him do it if you were going out into public, like this … like this it was oddly satisfying. Intimate, almost.

“Well,” He finally says, straightening up to admire his handiwork. “It’s not perfect but I’d say I didn’t do too bad.”

“I have nothing but the utmost faith in you, your grace.” Giggling when he decisively puts the cap back on and tosses it to land somewhere on the bed, you give him a bashful smile. “How do I look? Is it my color?”

The flash of heat behind his eyes tells you your answer long before he draws a stilted breath that makes his shoulders lift. “It’s the perfect color for you. If I didn’t want to see it smeared all over my cock right now, I’d be kissing it right off you.”

“Oh,”

Letting out a strained chuckle, Wriothesley reaches for the front of his pants next. “Ready to tend to me, pretty girl?”

Your arousal comes rushing right back into the forefront of your mind, and you jerk your head in a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”

Buckle rattling, he pauses long enough to slide the length of leather out of the belt loops so he can toss it aside before setting upon the hidden latches and buttons. You start to bring your hands up to help him only to promptly remember that they were bound together at the wrist, and you can’t stop from pouting about it a little bit. The greater point of this exercise was clear. You wouldn’t be able to freely touch him like this, and he was probably counting on that to make you all the more desperate to do just that until you were just begging for it.

You weren’t so sure that it wasn’t going to work.

The thought dissipates like sugar in warm water, however, when he shoves his pants and underwear down to his thighs. Just as it had that night in your bathroom, his cock springs up between the two of you proud and straining hard. It gives a heavy bob when he shuffles closer so he can lift a hand to possessively palm the top of your head. That alone is enough to make your pussy flutter in eager excitement, but then you watch him grab around the base with the other and point it straight at you.

“Open your mouth nice and big for me, pretty girl. There you go … gods, you have no idea how much I’ve thought about having your lips wrapped around me again”

He grunts, very softly, as you eagerly sink down on him as far as you can comfortably take it. But rather than letting you stop there, Wriothesley gently nudges your head further and gives his hips a halfhearted push.

“A little more, baby, come on. You’re so close to taking the whole thing for me. I want to see that pretty mouth stretched around the base … take it right to the back of your throat. I’ve got you, pretty girl.”

Whimpering around the thick intrusion, you make a valiant effort to blink away the tears that spring up in your eyes when you reflexively gag. You try to suppress it though, and sink down even more until you feel the distant tickle of coarse hair on your nose.

“Ooh, gods. That’s it. Now seal your mouth around it, nice and tight … nnghn, yes, how’s that cock taste, sweetheart? You like that?”

You nod your head even as your eyes screw shut, fighting against your own body to stop it from heaving up your whole dinner. But he’s quick to pull back, the hand on your head holding you steady when you sway on the edge of the mattress and suck in a haggard gasp of air.

“Good girl,” He breathes out, sounding mildly ruffled now as he manually directs your attention down at the heavy length bobbing between the two of you. “Such a good girl for me. Look at how much of me you just had stuffed in your mouth.”

Groaning at the faint red band around him, you feel yourself slip a little further under the swimming daze blanketing your mind. You bring your hands up, in tandem now, and carefully cup them around the satiny weight of his balls, earning a low rumble of approval out of him. You almost hadn’t thought you’d be able to do it, but the proof of it was staring right back at you. It’s nearly as satisfying as the softly heated praise he showers you with.

“I want you to take a good, long look at this, sweetheart.” Wriothesley murmurs, wrapping his forefinger and thumb around the thickest part of him to cover the lipstick stain. “This is how much of me your cute pussy is going to take too. It’s going to stretch you out just the same way it just did to your mouth. Can you imagine it, how it’s going to feel?”

You nod your head before you’ve even fully processed the question, shuddering so hard it makes your eyes vibrate in their sockets.

“Good. Then I want you to keep thinking about it while I fuck your mouth instead.”

A startled little sound of confusion bursts out of you, but he presses on the back of your head before you can form a coherent thought and you noise a muffled groan when his cock fills your mouth again. Holding you in place rather than guiding your head up and down, he instead flexes his hips to drive that rigid length back and forth over your tongue. His thrusts remain careful and controlled, sedate enough to give you a chance to breathe, but that does absolutely nothing to detract from the sympathetic flutter you feel deep inside your cunt.

It’s almost horrifyingly easy to imagine it, in fact. The same sensation of all that smooth, velvety skin working in and out of your body, how seamless the glide would be, how warm he would feel lodged deep within your guts. You almost couldn’t believe how hot it actually makes you to think about it, like you were liable to combust and catch fire at any moment. If you’d had the ability to, you probably would have been begging him to take you right then and there.

“I wish you could see how utterly ravishable you look right now, little miss. That lipstick really does make you look absolutely irresistible … and it looks even better smeared all over my cock. I almost want to cum all over your lips and paint them white.”

At your groaning, half choked sound of question, he issues another low laugh.

“That’s right, I’m going to hold out for that sweet pussy. This is just the warm up … but oh, what a warm up it is. I think you’re enjoying it too, aren’t you?”

You screw your eyes shut and weakly push at his thigh with your bound hands, but he just readjusts his hold to better keep you in place. His palm was so big it almost seemed to dwarf your entire head, and you violently shudder at how small he made you feel. Everything from his hands down to his cock was just so large …

Would your cunt really be able to take the whole thing?

Gasping raggedly when Wriothesley finally pulls you off him some moments later, you rock back to cough and sputter. Undeniably grateful for the reprieve, you blearily look at the bobbing length between you only to mewl softly at the glistening thread of spittle still connecting him to your raw mouth. Your chin was coated in it too, but he just brings his hand down to swipe it away without another thought to the matter.

“Feeling good so far, little miss?”

At your breathless nod, he tenderly cups the side of your face for a moment before giving it a light pat. “Good girl. Let’s move on to the next part then, shall we?”

Still wheezing and trying to catch your breath, you watch him reach over into the bag and pull out — another red strip of fabric? You didn’t understand. Was he going to tie your ankles next, or - -

He shuffles right up to you then and you suddenly forget how to breathe with that spit coated cock straining out towards your chest, so close you could have easily taken it back into your mouth again. Before you can even think to do it though, he brings that second piece of cloth close to fix your attention on it instead.

“I’m going to cover your eyes with this, if you’ll allow me to. You won’t be able to see or use your hands much, but you’ll still be able to talk. I’m not going to gag you or anything like that, pretty girl, so you can still change your mind later. Does that sound agreeable?”

You hesitate just a moment, ever so slightly unnerved at the thought of having your sight taken away, but you trusted him. Implicitly. “Yes, sir.”

“Such a good girl,” He murmurs, and that vaguely secretive smile is the last thing you see before he slips the strip over your eyes and reaches around to tie it off at the back of your head.

Your heart rate immediately picks up with a muted jolt, but you don’t feel any true panic. Just a bit of nerves. Some excitement mixed in with it. You were undeniably curious to find out what, exactly, he had planned for you, and the promise of his cock at the end certainly helped further sweeten the deal.

“There. Don’t you look pretty.” You feel him bend close and press a kiss to the top of your head. “Lipstick smeared and blindfolded … almost makes me wish I had a kamera on hand.”

Your chest hitches. “Your grace - -“

“Shh. I was only joking.” He soothes you, caressing broad knuckles down the side of your face.

You aren’t so sure you appreciate the humorous tone in his voice, but you promptly forget all about it when he gently guides you back to lay out on the bed. Holding your bound hands over your stomach, you somewhat awkwardly brace for him to climb on top of you, to claim you, thinking that was his intention in keeping you unawares. Rather than that though, you feel the mattress beside you dip down slightly with his weight. Then, out of the blue, calloused fingers squeeze around the meat of your breast to make you jolt.

“So jumpy,” Laughing under his breath, Wriothesley takes a moment to just knead the swell of your chest and give you a chance to relax into it before proceeding any further. “Do you recall what I told you the night before the fundraiser, little miss?”

You frown slightly, too caught up in the way his fingertips sink into your skin to have much higher thought process left at your disposal. “I’m not sure … it feels like so much has happened since then. I don’t think I do.”

“All the better then.”

Opening your mouth, you start to question it, but all that comes out is a surprised squeak when he directs his fingers to your nipple. The delicate bud had started to grow soft in the warm fog surrounding you, but now it springs back up while he pinches and tweaks it, stiltedly plucking the dense cluster of nerves back to straining attention. You think, idly, that you should probably close your mouth instead of letting it hang open in such a brazen and unladylike manner but you can’t quite seem to accomplish that right now. Especially not when he switches to the other breast, taking your second nipple between his blocky thumb and forefinger, and you promptly loose another faltering sound of pleasure.

Back and forth, just like that, he teases and plays with your tits until you’re squirming on top of the sheets and squeezing your thighs together in a blithe attempt to alleviate some of the building pressure there. He’s entirely relentless about it though, even when you weekly lift your hands as if to block or otherwise push him away he just reaches around to attack the other side. It felt a bit like being bullied … no, that was exactly what it felt like and you were ashamed to say it was driving you crazy! Never before had your teats felt so very stiff and sensitized, his rough fingertips providing the perfect amount of friction to leave your toes tightly curled.

It was almost too much, in a way … but it also doesn’t escape your notice that you were technically free to pull away from him at any point. With him sitting beside you, you could have rolled over in the opposite direction to escape the torture of his hand but you don’t. The thought never even seriously crosses your mind.

He’d been right to suspect you would like this.

“You’re awfully cute, you know that?” He murmurs after long moments that feel like eons to your punchdrunk mind. You twitch at the sound of his voice, whining softly — but it quickly cuts off with a sharp gasp when his other suddenly joins the fray, and both of your nipples are being pinched and pulled, and rubbed, and your back almost violently bows from how hard you writhe. “Mmm, I still think you could cum just from having your chest played with, if it went on long enough … would you like to try it, sweet girl? Want me to see if I can make you break apart like this?”

He accompanies this question with a twist of his wrists, tweaking both nipples just so, and you very nearly levitate right up off the bed. “Ooohh, no, no, no, please, sir, no more! I — I don’t think I can take it …”

“Hearing you say that just makes me want to keep going, you know.”

Another tweak, to make you jolt and let out a half strangled sob. “Please, Wriothesley … n - no more …”

To your great relief, he does indeed pull away and your tits achingly throb in the aftermath, so raw and stiff it pulls a faltering little mewl out of you. “Alright, since you asked so nicely I suppose we can move on … think you’re ready for this, sweet girl?”

Weakly twisting on the sheets, you blindly tip your face in the general direction his voice was coming from. It sounded like he was reaching into the bag again, or … perhaps removing his clothes? “I — I don’t even know what’s coming to say if I’m ready for it or not.”

A faint chuckle from him tickles your ears, and it makes you sensitively shudder on top of the bed. “See why I’m doing it this way now? Pretty little masochists like you deserve to be surprised, and you don’t get the chance to let your mind get the better of you.”

A sharp zap of static electricity races down your spine, pussy clenching uncomfortably tight as you fitfully squeeze your thighs together. “Is … is it going to hurt, sir?”

Softly cooing at you, Wriothesley carefully places his hand across your stomach and rubs comforting circles over you for a moment. “Ooh, isn’t that a precious question for you to ask me? And in such a soft little voice too … you’re really testing my self control over here, you know that?”

You bite down on your lip, not quite trusting yourself to speak anymore, and he gives you one final, affectionate pat before pulling away. The loss of his touch leaves you shuddering there on the bed but thankfully it doesn’t take long for him to come back. You’re a bit surprised when he nudges himself right up against your side and goosebumps promptly erupt over your skin at the sensation of his now bare thigh on your hip. He doesn’t completely straddle you though, slight uncertainty creeping in when he merely grabs your bound hands and then presses them up above your head to pin against the mattress. Letting out a tiny mewl of confusion, you weakly twist against his hold but it’s no use. You’re trapped.

“Shall I give you a moment to struggle and realize you’re helpless like this,” He drawls in a tone laced with leather suggestion. “Or are you going to take my word for it?”

You try to speak but nothing comes out. Swallowing your nerves hard enough it almost makes you gag, you have to force your tongue to formulate the words. “I believe you.” It’s little more than a mouse squeak but he hums in clear approval.

“Good girl. Now, for this I want you to keep still for me, alright? You’re allowed to squeal or cry, or anything else you want, but you need to stay in one place. Do you understand me?”

“Y - … yes, sir.”

Wriothesley shifts over top of you, whispering soft praise while he does it, and you just manage to make out a soft rattle of … metal? It sounded a bit like a dainty chain of some sort but, other than the ones on his usual outfit, you had no idea what it could be. Even trying to tip your head all the way back to peer under the blindfold doesn’t give you so much as a glimpse and you have to fight against the urge to click your tongue. A part of you almost wanted to tell him this wasn’t necessary anymore, that he had you so soaking wet and in need of friction on your leaking cunt that you would have done anything at all to get it but — before you can even think to say it, you feel him reach for your breast.

You instinctively stiffen up, expecting pain, but you’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re bracing for. Would it be soft at first like when he’d spanked you with his belt or immediate and blistering like his hand usually was?

The answer comes in the form of something — something hard and unrelenting, and cool to the touch — slowly coming down around your nipple. At first you’re only vaguely aware of it but it quickly ratchets up in intensity the more it closes down. Your mouth drops open as if to scream yet nothing comes out. You don’t even seem to remember how to breathe as you feel it gradually pinch the stiff teat tighter and tighter, and somehow even tighter until … at last, he pulls his hand back. But the crushing force around your nipple stays. It’s blindingly intense and your mind immediately blanks out with the onset of pain. Embarrassingly enough, you squeal.

“Fuck, you look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Wriothesley murmurs, barely heard over the deafening pound in your ears. You shake so hard it makes the stinging tip of your breast hurt even worse, prompting you to twist against him in earnest now, but he all too easily keeps your hands pinned above your head. “It’s a lot all at once, isn’t it? Just give yourself a moment to process. There you go. Deep breaths … you’re being such a good girl for me tonight, wearing my pretty little toys on your pretty tits. Now I really do wish I had a kamera.”

You suck in a sharp, seething breath. Toys? Suddenly that conversation in the fortress comes crashing back to you, and it makes you shudder at the memory of kneeling on the lounge in his office, naked from the waist down and getting your bottom spanked. The thought alone almost seems to send you over the edge, and you pitifully try to grind your obscenely drooling cunt down on the bed for even a modicum of relief. So this was one of those clamps he was telling you about, then. You think you might like to see it but … maybe you weren’t quite brave enough for that just yet.

“Still with me, little miss?”

“Oh — ooohhnn … Wriothesley, I - -“

“Do you think you need to tap out?”

Your mouth moves but nothing comes out. Finally you settle on a stilted shake of your head.

“Alright. Don’t worry about trying to talk right now unless you need to tell me you want a break. I’m sure it’s probably pretty damn hard for you to even think right now, isn’t it?”

You nod this time, whimpering softly at the note of humor in his voice. Of course you were well aware of his borderline sadistic tendencies, the perfect compliment to your own, evidently masochistic ones, but somehow you hadn’t expected him to enjoy it this much.

No, maybe that wasn’t quite right.

It was more like you hadn’t realized just how deep your own depravity ran, and so you’d underestimated his too. You hadn’t been able to even conceive of anything beyond the belt let alone whatever this was, even when he explained it to you, and you almost felt a little foolish in retrospect. Of course there was more beyond just spanking you and bossing you around that he would like.

Pulled back into the moment by his rough worn palm smoothing over your ribcage, you force your lungs to expand on a painfully deep breath. He softly coos at you, encouraging you to keep taking slow inhales as his hand retreats from you again. You feel the clamp on your sore teat nudge slightly to accompany the quiet jangle of metal and you quickly put two and two together. There was a chain connecting the two pieces. But if he clamped both tits and then tugged on it then —

“Ooh!” It blurts out of you in a sudden rush and he pauses somewhere above you, hovering for a moment.

“If you can’t keep yourself still I’ll have to actually tie you down to the bed. Not that I don’t think you’d enjoy it, but I figured you would appreciate having more freedom of movement for this. Trust me when I say you don’t want me to catch you wrong, though. That’ll hurt way worse.”

Wheezing, you force yourself to stop squirming even though it takes every ounce of self control you have, especially when you feel him reach for the other breast. Somehow the dulling pain in the first made the anticipation of the second so, so much more worse, and you clench your teeth as the pincers slowly start to come down on delicate skin. Same as before, he goes slow with it to give you enough time to adjust and brace against it, but that also makes it so you’re forced to feel each bit of pressure as it’s gradually applied in stunning high definition. Toes flexing tight enough to hurt, you wait until he pulls away and leaves the clamp stuck to your breast before writhing in place as sedately as you can manage.

You felt truly wild with it but the constant, squeezing pinch on both nipples kept you somewhat grounded for fear of pulling on them and causing even more discomfort. The worst part of all, though, was the fact you’d never been wetter in all your life. Even taking into account at least some of the mess between your legs was lingering saliva from earlier, that still didn’t account for the sheer flood of arousal making your cunt feel sticky and almost obscenely juicy.

Distantly, you realize that you really were on the verge of begging him just to stuff you full without any concern for your previous worries about being able to take him. You knew you could. You just knew it, beyond a shadow of a doubt now.

“Aren't you the prettiest little thing I’ve ever seen?” Wriothesley murmurs, pulling you just a bit more out of your reeling stupor when he smooths his big hand up your fluttering stomach. “I don’t even have to ask if you’re enjoying this. I can tell you are by the way you keep trying to grind that sweet pussy on the bed. It’s not working though, is it? Poor thing … you need some real attention between your legs now, don’t you?”

You nod your head slowly, hissing faintly when his fingertips brush the chain and jostle the clamps just enough to make fresh stabs of hurt go through your tits. He coos at you and lightly, tauntingly, gives the metal link a purposeful nudge to make the attached pincers pull, and you really start to think you’re going to lose it.

“P - please, sir, please … I’m — ooohhh, I’m begging!”

“And what are you begging for, little miss? Can you tell me?”

“I … I want …” Choking down a lungful of air, you tip your face down as if to look at yourself but of course it doesn’t work. You’d never felt quite so … powerless before, and it was overwhelmingly amazing. Potent in the worst possible way. “I want it — in my pussy, sir, please!”

“Oho, that’s mighty crass coming from you, pretty girl. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever break you down enough to make you talk like that.” He chuckles softly at your mewling whimper, dragging his hand back down the length of your body. You go stock still, though, when he dips between your legs and, sure enough, you’re so thoroughly coated in slick that his fingers just wetly slide over your folds. “Is this where you want it? Come on, use your words for me.”

“Y - yes, sir. I want it there. Please. I’m begging.”

“And you’re doing such a good job. But what do you want specifically? My fingers?”

You shudder violently when his digits curl back to tease at your entrance, just flirting with the suggestion but not actually breaching you. “Ohh … no, no, not that, sir, please.”

“Hm? Could it be you want my mouth on you again? Greedy girl. Do you want to sit on my face that badly?”

Quietly seething, you shake your head. “Please, sir, I … I want — I want your cock, sir. I - in my pussy, please. I need it.”

He breathes out a low, rumbling groan to that. “You need it? Well, then of course you’ll have it. Good girls who tell me what they want only have to ask once, you know.”

You feel him lean over you then, getting close, and a tremulous smile pulls at your mouth seconds before he kisses you, slow and deliberate. Your chest heaves in excitement as much as at the steady thrill of pain coursing through your system, and you eagerly try to follow him when he pulls back a moment later.

“I’m going to let go of your hands and I want you to carefully sit up, alright? Mind you don’t catch your pretty little chain on anything. Understood?”

“Yes, sir …”

Another brief kiss pressed to your mouth seals the deal, and then Wriothesley is sitting back to give you some small amount of space. You feel his presence right next to you though, and you find a great deal of comfort in that as you gingerly sit upright with the help of his steady hands. Gently he turns you towards him so he can half lift, half drag you into his lap. The motion jostles the clamps, making you mewl like something small and wounded, but he gets you settled against him quickly enough that the shuddering chain stills again. You have to remind yourself to keep breathing as he carefully nudges further back onto the bed until you seem to be situated somewhere in the middle. Then, you feel him lay out underneath you and you brace your hands against his firm stomach to help balance your weight.

You were a little surprised though, if you were being honest. Quite surprised, in fact.

“You won’t be on top, sir?”

“Not this time, sweetness. I figured it would make you feel better about taking me if you could control the depth and the speed you want to go at. Oh, don’t make that face. Even blindfolded I can tell you’re thinking about calling me a big oaf again.” Laughing quietly, a bit thickly, he reaches up to squeeze your hips in both hands and then reaches further back to grab your ass.

Swat! Swat! In quick succession, one cheek and then the other, to leave you swaying dizzily on his hips. You were almost too stunned to react.

“Oooh …”

“I believe you’re still due for a spanking anyway, and I can’t very well take care of your bottom if I’m on top, can I?” At your seething nod, he squeezes the swell of one cheek and gives it a solid jostle. “That’s what I thought. You love getting your ass spanked, don’t you lovely girl?”

“Yes, sir, I … I do. But,” You lick your lips, gathering your courage. “Is this a punishment, or … maintenance?”

“Hm, I was actually thinking this one would just be for pleasure. Why? Do you think you need one or the other?”

You consider that for a long stretch, a very difficult task when your nipples were burning sore and aching every time the clamps so much as shifted with you. It felt amazing, but it was also making it nigh impossible to think straight. “Maintenance, sir. I think.”

“Then that is what you will have.” Swat! To make you lurch and shiver on top of him. “Thank me for spanking your ass, pretty girl. Let me hear you.”

Whining low in your throat, you arch and impotently grind your soaked cunt down on his stomach. “Nnghn, thank you, sir! Thank you! Can — can I have your cock now?”

Growling so heavily it seems to bleed from him straight into you, Wriothesley’s fingers dig into your hips and scoot you down a little further until you feel the distinct brush of coarse pubic hair touch your inner thigh. Your throbbing cunt positively clenches as you gladly let him tip your pelvis forward until you're half laying on top of him, even when it makes the chain attached to your nipples pool across his skin. One hand drags up to clutch your waist, squeezing the love handles there, while the other reaches back to give you another hard swat across the ass cheek.

“Eek! T - thank you, sir!”

The next slap doesn’t come. Instead you feel the head of his cock nudge up against you from behind, guided by his hand, and you go ramrod stiff on top of him. Your mouth slowly drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out while he tauntingly draws himself over your folds, bumping your clit on occasion and mostly just teasing your drenched entrance. The muscle squeezes each time he gets close, trying to pull him in, but he seems content to take his time with it. Up and down, up and down — it was driving you mad, and you plaintively rear back in your desperation.

“P - pleeeaase, I want it!”

“Then take it, little miss. Help yourself.”

His cock abruptly stills, pressed right against your squeezing hole, but it doesn’t push up. It doesn’t move. Just sits there, waiting, and you pitifully groan when you realize what he’s doing. With a weak little mewl, you clench your hands where they’re braced on his stomach and carefully, hesitantly start to ease back. Your heart slams a deafening beat in your ears, but all you can seem to focus on is the slow pressure of your body taking him in. It’s stilted and gradual in this position with you at the helm, and yet you’re so incredibly wet that there’s not much resistance to show for it.

The glans is smooth and fleshy as it penetrates your cunt, sliding right into place within you. You’re immediately aware of how very warm he is, how smooth, and you suck in a thin breath to steady yourself before sinking further down. Inch by excruciating inch, he slips into the tight sleeve of your pussy and stretches you open around him in the process. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling full, and you have to pause to steady your nerves when it’s only a third of the way in.

“God, you feel amazing,” Wriothesley practically gasps, his voice so thick and strained he sounds genuinely distressed in your cotton stuffed mind. The hand on your waist just squeezes tighter, clutching you like he was afraid you might disappear. “Go at your own pace, baby. Fuck yourself on me just like that and work your way up to it.”

The dangling chain on your tits clatters softly and drags over his abdomen when you gingerly angle your hips up and then press them back down. Even for as subdued as the downward thrust is, it still has you moaning at how good he feels penetrating you. So you do it again, ever so slowly rocking your heaving body against the cock behind you until you find a steady rhythm. You weren’t sure how much of him you were actually taking yet, but you knew you already felt stuffed. He was thick and heavy, and the delicious glide of skin just makes you even hungrier for more.

Mindless with your need, you pull him in a little deeper on the next slow motion plunge, and Wriothesley outright seethes underneath you.

“Ohh, that’s it, sweetheart, just like that. You look so good stretching out that pretty pussy on my cock … and your tits — bless the seven, I knew you’d love my toys. Your nipples were made for this, weren’t they?”

You start to nod your head, so focused on grinding your cunt over him that you aren’t really sure what you’re agreeing with. It doesn’t seem to really matter though. Wriothesley lets go of your hip so he can reach up and give the chain a taunting tug but the pressure on your poor teats was so great that it makes you shriek as if he’d struck you full force. The discomfort is so sharp and blinding your hips falter, and you sink even further down on his length when you give a subconscious jerk. Your cunt suddenly feels ten times more full, a feat you hadn’t thought possible, and for a moment you just freeze on top of him.

It was all you could do just to keep drawing air into your lungs. You felt like you were going to implode in the most literal sense.

But, evidently, you had enough of him sheathed inside you that he could remove his hand now, and he reaches up to swat your ass again. “Do you even realize how much you’re squeezing me right now? And you just keep getting tighter every time I spank you or pull on your tits … who would have ever thought such a sweet girl could be this much of a masochist?”

Chest heaving, you fitfully turn your head this way and that as if seeking him out through the blindfold. “Please, sir, oh gods above, please move!”

“Not yet, sweetheart. I want to, trust me — shit, it’s taking everything I have not to slam myself balls deep in you right this second. But I want you to do this by yourself first. Can you do that for me?”

You whine and shake, legs trembling from the effort of holding your cunt in place when you wanted nothing more than to bury him inside you straight down to the hilt. He was so big that it was still overwhelming though, especially when your mind was positively drowning in the absolute rush of sensation assaulting you all at once. The warm handprints on your ass, the clamps on your tits, the soft silk binding your wrists together and the one around your eyes, the sheer presence of him sitting inside your body.

Weakly, you sink down another inch and let out a frantic, keening sound of pleasure.

“Oooh, good girl. You’re almost there. Just another push and you’ll be sitting on my cock.”

It’s almost alarming to hear that there’s still more of him to take, but after having it shoved almost down your throat you had a pretty good grasp on his size. You could tell you were almost down to the widest part now just by the nearly obscene stretch of your cunt lips around him, and you take a moment just to grind yourself with the faltering motions of your hips. It didn’t hurt, nor was it uncomfortable, it was just — a lot to process all at once. A big hurdle.

But just like every other time he’s pushed you right to the limit, Wriothesley remains a steady, comforting presence underneath you. His soft praise continues to rain over you even while he pinches the meat of your ass hard enough to make your toes curl, or he nudges the chain to rattle your nipple clamps. It really is too much and, feeling delirious with it, you finally relax your legs and allow your weight to sink you down the rest of the way until you’re at last firmly seated on his cock.

You feel so horribly stretched out and full that you just sit there, twitching on top of him, while Wriothesley groans low in his throat. His hips shudder with the instinctive urge and masculine drive to thrust up, to lose himself in the tight wet warmth of your cunt, but he refrains. Even when it’s obviously taking every ounce of willpower he possesses, he still waits for you to get your bearings straight and suck in a haggard gasp.

“Wriothesley, please …”

“Shh. I’ve got you, pretty girl.” He sounds almost as flustered as you do now, and you groan very softly when he smooths those big palms over your ribs again. “You did so well. Are you ready for me to move?”

“Yes, sir.”

Drawing a slow breath to steady himself, he drags his hands down to hold your hips instead. You feel him shift under you, jostling you slightly, and you think he must be adjusting his feet where they’re braced on the bed. That’s the last semi coherent thought you have, because he rolls his hips up in the next moment and the pressure inside you doubles, triples, leaves you choking on the blinding sensation of his cock pressing so deep you can practically taste it on the back of your tongue. All you can do is cry out in blissful agony as he gradually falls into a rhythm, just grinding up into your pulpy cunt for a long moment until you start to feel well and truly faint.

Then, his own heaving groans increasing with it, Wriothesley starts to carefully thrust in and out of you, somewhat sedately at first but it quickly starts to pick up speed. The force of his flexing hips driving into you rocks you and, with it, so does the chain start to bounce and pull on your tits. Your already frantic sounds of pleasure soon take on a dire tinge, everything almost too much for you to process in that moment. You felt like you were going to shatter into a million pieces. He was breaking you, splitting you straight down the middle, and - -

Swat!

The sting of his hand across your ass immediately grounds you, startles you out of your own head, and you lurch on top of him.

“Ooh! God! W - Wriothesley!”

He grunts somewhere seemingly far below you, driving his cock through your squeezing passage a little harder. A little faster. “How’s it feel, pretty girl? Nnghhn … you like how that cock feels deep in your pussy?”

“I love it!”

Noising a rumbling sound of satisfaction, he slaps your bouncing ass again, and stars erupt across your eyes. “I knew you would. I told you, didn’t I? I’m going to make sure you’re well taken care of no matter what … oohhnn, yeah, squeeze me tighter, little miss. That’s it. Are you about to cum for me?”

You jerk your head in a quick nod, unable to find your voice when it felt like the pressure inside you was starting to collapse in on itself. There was too much of it. Too much stimuli, too many different sensations. Pleasure and pain so horribly intermingled that you couldn’t even tell what was what anymore. Your nipples were screaming in agony, but it felt so good you could have sobbed. His cock was easily the most pleasure inducing of all, but the way it forces your clenching muscles open again and again, and again made it toe the line of discomfort. His hand - -

Swat!

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

You’re completely blindsided when you do just that.

Your pussy spasms on the drop of a coin, sending you into a wild fit of convulsions. You mindlessly shriek and dig your nails into his hard stomach, desperately trying to steady yourself before you can vibrate right off him. But the waves of crashing ecstasy just keep coming, over and over, rocking you straight to the marrow of your bones. Wriothesley hisses at the sensation of your body wildly trying to milk him but he keeps fucking you through it, persistent even now. All you can do is hold on for dear life, and quake so hard the bed rattles from the force.

“Oh, fuck,” He pants when you finally start to come down from it some moments later, and the uncontrollable tremors working through your shuddering frame begin to ease up into sensitive twitching. His thrusts gradually slow as well to leave you wheezing on top of him, your cunt weakly palpitating around him where he remains wedged inside you.

It was … by and far, the most amazing experience of your life, and you practically collapse into his arms when he reaches up to tug you close. You would have been perfectly content to snuggle up against his chest right then and there, but the clamps tug at your breasts to make you whine.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Come here, let’s get these off you.” As gentle as can be, Wriothesley gathers you close with one hand curled around your back while the other reaches for one of your tits. “Fair warning, this is going to hurt. I want you to breathe through it, okay?”

At your bubbling nod, you feel him take the clamp in his fingers and — your mouth promptly drops open to scream when the metal pincers start to retract. All that comes out is a hurt, tiny little mewl of pain though, and he issues a faltering sigh when your pussy clenches around him tight. You can feel the skin sticking to the merciless contraption as he steadily pulls it loose, and you really do sob when all that’s left in the wake of it is a fiercely buzzing ache.

He’s quick to soothe you though, carefully taking the abused bud between his fingers to lightly work out some of the hurt. It’s bad enough to make you seethe, but you can’t quite ignore the way your cunt positively throbs around him. You had no idea what it said about you as a person but you did indeed like it.

Quite a lot, in fact.

“Oh, little miss. Look at you. Your poor nipple really hurts, doesn’t it?” Laughing softly at your stilted nod, he leans up to press a quick kiss to your mouth. “I’d tell you I’m sorry for it but I can tell just how much you like it by the way you keep squeezing me …”

“The other one.” You whimper, dreading it almost as much as you would be glad to have it off.

It seemed like the reverse of having them put on, and now that you were anticipating the agony of the second it made it so incredibly tortuous. But he obliges you, reaching to the other side and … you can’t quite stop yourself from squealing this time, helplessly twisting against him.

“There.” He huffs, tossing the clamps aside to hit the bed somewhere before bringing his hands up to fiddle with the knot behind your head. “I’m going to take this off as well but make sure you give your eyes a moment to adjust, alright?”

You almost think it’s a little silly, for him to be taking care of you like this when he was still sitting hot and heavy, and rock hard inside you but you can’t quite find it in yourself to be upset about it right now. The red silk slips away, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the glare of the light. Wriothesley takes the moment to kiss over your face, paying special attention to your eyelashes where they flutter against your cheeks, and you nearly find yourself drifting off from how very comfortable it is. Nice, and intimate.

But you eventually crack your eyes open and peer up at him, struck by how darkly handsome and enticing he looks in that moment. All ruffled and coated in a fine sheen of sweat, the hunger you still see reflected in his eyes attesting to how badly he wanted to rut up into your pussy but … he doesn’t. Not yet. He just fixes you with that vaguely secretive smile and brushes some of the hair back from your face.

“You look quite pleased,” He murmurs, clearly proud of himself and the mess he’s made of you.

“Aren’t you going to finish?” You whisper as you pointedly rock back against his cock, making him suck in a deep, savory breath.

“I planned on it, you little minx. I just wanted to check in on you first.” Bringing his hand down, he cups the side of your face and just studies you for a long moment. “Would you like to have your hands untied as well?”

“Yes, sir.”

You smile to yourself as he works on getting the knot loose with practiced motions. He’d clearly done this before, many times if you had to take a guess, and suddenly your curiosity couldn’t wait any longer. “Where did you learn about all this stuff?”

“Hm? I told you I got sent to prison.”

“Yes, but,” You frown at that. “What does it have to do with this?”

Wriothesley sends you a meaningful look as the tie comes loose, and he gently rubs over your wrists to smooth out any of the ache there. “Well, I was a teenager, for starters. All kinds of hormones and physical changes going on, and with the crowd that ends up in Meropide I’m sure you can imagine how easily I fell into certain … circles.”

“Oh.” You blink at that, not sure if you should be horrified by that news or not, but he just laughs at the dawning look on your face.

“It’s nothing to worry your pretty little head about. I didn’t participate much at first. Mostly just watched and observed, and learned. It was all very interesting to me at the time, as I’m sure you can imagine, and it wasn’t until much later when I actually found someone to play with. Someone who liked to be in charge as much as she enjoyed getting pushed around, so I got the best of both worlds.”

You sit up a little straighter, wide eyed gaze fixed on his face. “You let someone … do to you what you do to me?”

Wrapping his arms around you now, Wriothesley gathers you close to his chest, looking at you from just a scant few inches away as he settles back against the bed and gets comfortable. “Yes, but I quickly found that I much preferred being in the dominant role. Unlike you, pretty girl, I don’t get very much out of receiving pain … but I certainly enjoy inflicting it.”

Squirming when he pinches at your side, you give his thick arm a quick smack. “Stop that. This is a serious conversation!” An almost ironic thing to say when he was still pulsing inside you but, to your relief, he immediately sobers. “Is … is she still at the prison?”

“No, her sentence ended long before I even became the duke of the fortress and she returned to the surface. And before you ask, I never tried to look for her. There wasn’t ever any reason to. She was just someone to kill time with. The thought of spending any meaningful time with her beyond venting our frustrations and pent up energy on each other didn't so much as cross my mind. Nothing like you. I’d scour every corner of this world without rest just to get you back if we were ever separated like that.”

You can’t help but warm for him, and you happily accept the kiss he leans up to plant on your mouth. It’s a brief exchange though, just enough to have you signing in contentment against him, and then he’s pulling back. The shift in his expression doesn’t go unnoticed, and you’re not at all surprised when he drags those big calloused palms lower to squeeze your ass.

“I think I still owe you a few more spankings … think you’re ready for the rest?”

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, sinking into the comforting warmth of his body as he slowly angles his hips back to drag his cock through your guts. The zap of friction has your toes curling again, but you knew you were well past the point of satiation and would not be finding a third release tonight.

You’re not particularly bothered by that after everything he’d already given you though, so you just lay there across him, leisurely kissing him while he fucks up into you at a tortuously stilted pace. In and out, in and out, just rocking you gently until you think you might doze off and —

Swat!

“Oh!” You give a little jolt, delighting in the spreading warmth across your ass. The dull, aching throbs of your sore nipples and the vague thrum deep in your cunt. You were undoubtedly going to be sore tomorrow, but you didn’t really care. “Mm, thank you, sir.”

“You’re very welcome, little miss.” He says softly, tipping his head back against the sheets to groan. “You really do have the sweetest pussy … you’re still gripping me so well even after two orgasms.”

Swat! This time accompanied by a tight, squeezing pinch and a rough jostle.

“Nnghn … thank you, sir.”

It’s easy to get lost in it, that intimate, swimming daze floating around you while he fucks you and slaps your bottom red. He never quite picks up the same speed or intensity as he did earlier, and you soon realize that this was entirely for him now. Wriothesley was just enjoying the feel of you wrapped around him, clenching his cock, the soft, wet little clicks he pulls from between your legs as they echo off the walls. It was beyond intoxicating, and you quickly succumb to the hard sting of his hand, just as you always did.

Swat!

“Thank you, sir … oooh … Wriothesley - -“ You cut off with a sharp gasp when the next swing lands, jiggling the meat of your behind from the impact.

“What is it, pretty girl? Don’t tell me you’re ready for round three?” He laughs, low and very close to being breathless.

“No, it’s not that …” A hot, faltering groan slips out of you the next time his cock pushes inside you, and you weakly push up to brace your arms against his broad barrel chest so you can look at him. “I … I just wanted to say … I love you, too.”

A flash of genuine surprise crosses his face, but it’s almost immediately overshadowed by the deep pleasure that settles into place just a second later. “Oh, fuck, baby, why did you say that right now?”

Sensitively gasping, he wraps stiff arms around your body and practically flattens you against him. The rhythm of his thrusts turns messy, no longer smooth and certain, but a bit jerky and uneven now, as if his need to cum had ratcheted far beyond the point of him being able to temper it. He presses his mouth against the top of your head, his breathing turning ragged and quick while he just holds you like that, so thoroughly pinned against the front of him you couldn’t have pulled away even if you’d tried.

You let out a mewling whine when you feel him shudder underneath you, his frame so tense and halting that it almost reignites your own arousal. You’re sure you know what’s coming, but it still surprises you slightly how much he huffs and puffs into your hair at the onset of his release.

“Oooh, gods above … I’m going to cum, sweetheart. I’m going to cum deep inside that tight pussy, okay? Will you let me?”

“Of course, Wriothesley.” You whimper softly, clutching at his tense shoulders. “You don’t have to ask. Cum in me as much as you want.”

He outright seethes at that, hips bucking uncontrollably now. His cock pulses inside you and then twitches, pressing in against your upper wall hard enough to pull a moan out of you, and then it gives a muted little jerk. You can’t help but gasp at the hot, spreading sensation that immediately follows, your pussy fluttering around him as much as the pooling warmth that seems to bleed deep into you. He lets out a final, heaving grunt of deep, masculine pleasure, and then he stills, holding himself through the shuddering tail end of his release while he pumps everything he’s got into your waiting clutch. You sway on top of him, a bit blindsided by how … good it actually felt to have his seed coating your guts in a thick, goopy mess.

You weren’t so sure about the clean up just yet but this you could certainly get used to.

At length, Wriothesley finally goes slack under you with a rumbling sigh and his arms loosen enough for you to push yourself up to look at him again. He looks like he’s still recovering, blue eyes distant and almost dreamy, and yet he still manages to give you one of those lazy, secretive little smiles.

“I think you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Regret what?”

“Giving me permission to cum inside you as much as I want.” Sighing, he carefully gathers you up again and rolls you over onto your side. You give a soft squeak when his softening cock slips free at the motion, but he’s snuggling up close to you before you can complain about needing to get a rag. In fact, you promptly forget all about it as he half curls his much bigger body around yours and gets comfortable, settling his face inches from yours on the sheets. “Putting my poor sense of humor aside … thank you, sweet girl. You’re much too kind to me and so much more than I could have ever hoped myself worthy of.”

You can’t help but laugh as you bring your hand up to brush some of the hair back off his sweat dampened forehead. He looked surprisingly handsome like that, you were a bit surprised to find. Almost dashing. “Don’t say that … especially when I was just thinking the same thing of you. I know it’s been a rocky road but … but I really am glad I was able to meet you in this life, Wriothesley.”

“I am too.” He murmurs, leaning in to press his mouth to yours in a slow, savory kiss. You practically melt into him at the stilted press and pull of his mouth, carding your hand back through his hair, and you can’t help but softly whine when he retreats a moment later. “By the way, I almost forgot. I have a surprise for you.”

Your brows knit in confusion. “What kind of surprise?”

“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now would it?” He chuckles, brushing another kiss over your lips. “We can go pick it up together tomorrow, if you’d like. I made the arrangements right after the fundraiser, but with everything going on I just didn’t get the chance to tell you.”

There was no denying that you were a bit suspicious of it, but you find yourself smiling anyway. “Alright … do I at least get a hint?”

“Not even a little one.”

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

One week later …

“Oh my goodness, isn’t he just the most precious thing you’ve ever seen?” Furina squeals and titters, cooing over the dozing bundle in your arms with so much enthusiasm that a few of the cafe staff members actually stop to glance over. You didn’t really mind it though. You’d had much the same reaction the first time you laid eyes on him, and sometimes you still did. It was exceedingly hard not to, if you were being honest.

Even now when you turn your attention down to look at the furry little face blearily staring back at you, almost too tired to keep his eyes open, you feel a strangely intense flood of emotions rush through your chest. You aren’t quite sure what it is, exactly, but you know it’s something not unlike love. Tumultuous but calming at the same time. Peaceful, and yet frighteningly daunting.

You think, idly, this might be how parents feel about their children. A love unconditional and so, so overwhelming it almost brings you to tears at least once a day. If you hadn’t been navigating this unexpected journey with Wriothesley right at your side you were certain you would have been a right and proper mess.

“He’s a very good boy.” You tell her in full confidence. Even barring the occasional accident or behavioral correction, he’d been nothing but a sweet angel since you’d brought him home. “I was a bit worried he’d like Wriothesley more than me since he’s so … you know. Big and in charge of everything, but he actually sticks to me like glue. I can’t even use the bathroom without him sitting outside the door crying.”

Furina looks like she just might start crying too. “That is so stinking cute! Oh, I really am jealous! What sort of dog is he?”

You turn a little sheepish at that. “A mastiff.”

Her eyes go so big and wide you’re a bit worried they’re going to pop right out of her head and roll across the table.

“But that’s so — large! Aren’t you worried about him … I don’t know, pushing you around when he’s older?”

Shaking your head, you reach down to fiddle with an oversized black paw. The puppy just lets you do it without even a huff of protest, his arm perfectly boneless and pliable under your fingers. “Wriothesley said these guys are big, giant babies but very protective. He told me if he ever wasn’t around and someone tried to mess with me, this little guy here would rip them apart … and I’m not so sure he was joking about that.”

Furina shoots a cautious look at the lounging dog, but quickly recovers her usual bluster. “Well, I am very happy for the two of you and I will be sending you a gift basket in the coming days to celebrate this adorable addition to your family!”

You falter at that, turning a wide eyed look on her. “Is that really necessary, Lady Furina? I don’t want to put you out or anything …”

“Of course it is! Things like this deserve to be celebrated, don’t you think?” Reaching over, she softly tickles the pup’s exposed belly and he gives his leg a lazy kick in response, much to her giggling delight. “Ohh, I really can’t help but feel a bit envious though. I wonder how mad Neuvillette would be if I suddenly brought home a puppy …”

Spotting your chance, you eagerly jump on it. “Speaking of, Lady Furina, I meant to ask you about that.”

She jerks her attention up at you, cheeks coloring a charming shade of pink. “Wh — ask me about what, dear peach? S - surely you don’t suspect me of anything?”

If you didn’t already, you certainly would have now.

Grinning, you secretively bend your head close to hers. The puppy Wriothesley got for you grumbles faintly between the two of you, unaccustomed to not being the center of attention now, but you and the Hydro Archon are too busy whispering amongst yourselves to give in to his huffy demands right that moment. Soon, you and Furina are laughing together, squealing softly over something one or the other has said. It was nice, and it was comfortable. Warm in the mid afternoon sun sitting out on the cafe patio with her.

And in the light, the ring Wriothesley put on your finger glitters blindingly for all to see.

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

The End

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

276 notes · View notes

hystixia · 9 months

Text

I THINK SHE WANNA LOVE.

FEATURING 、JEFF THE KILLER X F!READER

WARNINGS 、DUBCON, BIRTHDAY SEX, FINGERING (M -> F), SOMNOPHILIA, DACRYPHILIA, DEGRADATION, HAND KINK, BELLY BULGE, CHOKING, OVERSTIM, PANTY STEALING, BLOOD, CREAMPIE, ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP

It’s late into the night when he shows up. You’re already fast asleep, there’s tired bags under your eyes and the thought of you trying your best to stay up to see him crosses his mind as he peers into your dark bedroom through your window. If he had a heart he’d feel a little bad for making you wait but Jeffery isn’t one to feel anything close to sympathy for others.

He slides the window up, a smirk crosses his features at the fact it was unlocked to begin with and he slips in without much of sound except for the small thud of his boots touching your bedroom floor. For anyone else it would be nearly impossible to see in this darkness but he’s awfully familiar with the layout of your entire house and that would be extremely alarming to know if he ever told you.

He closes the window quietly and quickly. He plans on staying a little longer this time, plans on making his presence known this time.

He’s skilled in laying on your bed without much effort needed, your much smaller form shifting and curling up under the soft blanket as the bed moves just the slightest with him as he leans over you to look at your face. He’s not trying to hide his obsession with you this time. His hand sliding up and down your side after removing the blanket from your figure. Tracing the exposed skin until he reaches your exposed tummy, the shirt you had on riding up your chest and barely covering your pretty breasts from his creeping view. This was a sight to behold but his attention moves over to your desk that has a few colorful bags, half wrapped boxes and cards on and his eyes narrow at the objects.

Who gave you those?

He stares for a bit before he considers the fact you had family come over and gift those to you and not some fucker that would be dead soon if he ever found out about it (he would.). He made it very clear you weren’t allowed to see anyone but him, keep conversations with others short if you wanted them to live another day. That’s what he had told you one night as you stared up at him with fear in your doe eyes, it was an addicting look he couldn’t get enough of when it came from you.

His hands grab at all your exposed skin before getting adventurous and impatient, fingers tugging at the hem of your cotton shorts and pulling them down your legs. He swore he saw your legs move to give him more access but maybe that was his own hands pushing them apart. Your pretty pink panties are something that catches his eye, the lacy material something he’s never seen you wear ever. He’d definitely be taking those, for safekeeping of course.

A sound leaves you when he runs his index over your clothed sex. His eyes trained on your expressions in your sleep when he taps his finger against your covered clit, a small gasp leaves you and your head twists a little at the contact.

He could eat you alive if he wanted to.

He tugs the thin material of your underwear down until its completely off you much like the cotton shorts that lie somewhere on the floor in the dark. He’s not too caring with his placement for your panties either but he remembers where he’s thrown them to take when he leaves later.

His cold hands slide up your thighs and a shiver racks through your body as a small hum of discomfort slips past your lips. His hands inch closer to your heat until one is gripping your plush thigh and pulling it until he has full access to your pretty pussy, his eyes stare for way too long at the sight and he feels his dick pulse in his pants as he moves to roll his thumb around your clit. He’s well aware his hand could fully cup your cunt and maybe he’ll mention that fact another time to embarrass you and leave you squirming when he’s gone. Leave you wishing he was the one touching you when you’re “alone” in your room with no creeping Jeff around to help.

A small whimper bubbles in your throat and your face scrunches up in pleasure as he lazily rubs his thumb in circles over your small bundle of nerves, a breathy sound spills from your lips and it sounds akin to his name but it’s hard to tell.

Your needy pussy clenches around nothing as he builds you up, your hips stuttering that he’s quick to stop with his hand gripping the soft flesh tight to the mattress. Your legs shaking lightly as your back tries to arch off the bed and your whines rise in pitch.

“haah, J-, ooo, Jeff!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as your body trembles against the bed. Your orgasm is fast, the unknown knot in your belly snapping as he leans his head against your thigh to keep it from closing. Your juices coating his hand and as you pant he doesn’t bother to stop and clean your mess. Instead he inserts two long and thick fingers into your pulsing hole and a high pitched gasp leaves you making him grin against your skin.

Visiting you in the night and doing this to while you weren’t aware always got him going. It was entertaining to watch your face contort in pleasure, how you begged for him even while asleep. He was the only thing left in your fucked out brain most nights and he couldn’t get enough of it.

“Gonna give me another one?” He hums lowly, a whisper against the smooth skin of your flesh as your warm walls flutter around his fingers that rub against that gummy spot that has your hips jerking forward at the contact. His thumb on your puffy pearl plus the added fullness of his fingers has whimpers and moans falling from your open mouth freely now. Your hand instinctively grabs at his that’s cupping your drooling cunt and he grins at how the tips of your fingers cant reach each other as you grip his wrist for support.

You’re panting, your body feels hot and your brows are knitted together as your eyes flutter and he stares up curiously at your face.

Were you awake already?

He coos softly at your messy pussy as another orgasm floods your senses, a silent scream leaving you as you arch off the bed. Your heart thumps wildly against your chest like you’ve run a marathon and your lungs struggle to take in air as you finally flutter those pretty lashes and open those doe eyes that stare at the ceiling in a daze as you come down from the suffocating high.

He’s pulling his hand from your sticky cunt, a smirk on his face at the sight of your pussy so messy and all because of him. Your eyes go glossy when you finally look at him, his fingers that shimmer with your juices being swiped over with his tongue. Those bloody scars seeming to tug upwards slightly as he smiles at you.

“The birthday girl ‘s awake now.” He cackles at you. Your pupils blown wide as you stare at him with need, desperation to have him now. He remembered the date. He knows your birthday somehow.

“Jeff,” It comes out breathy, needier than you intended but it reaches him regardless. Those icy blue eyes staring back teasingly before he’s leaning over you, your body shrinking against the sheets as he stares down with hunger in his eyes. Jeff felt like toying with you tonight though.

“What do ya want, sweetheart?” He grins down at you. So small under him, face heated not only from embarrassment but from the arousal pooling hot in your belly. Your pretty doe eyes staring up at him pleadingly before he brings a hand up to rest against your headboard but he doesn’t fail to notice the way your eyes sparkle with interest at the position he’s cramping you into. “Gotta beg for it, pretty girl. You know this,”

“Please, Jeff,” You whine out and there’s pretty tears in your eyes. He wants them to slip down your face, a shimmery glow added to your skin from the lines they’ll create as they stream down your soft cheeks. “I want it,”

“Want what?” He teases, a small chuckle rumbling in his chest at the pout on your face. It’s like you forget he’s a serial killer and could gut you open if he wanted to.

“I want you.. wan’ your cock. Jeff, please,” You beg, hands grabbing at the sheets as your pussy clenches around nothing over the thought of being filled up.

He hums and you stare at the painful cuts in his face, wondering for a short moment if they hurt him before thinking about how they fit him perfectly in a fucked up and twisted way. You yelp as your legs are grabbed roughly, a faint smile tugging at your lips as he pushes them up to your chest and you hold them there without being told to as you watch him unbuckle his belt. You’d be lying if the sound of it jingling and the zipper being tugged down didn’t excite you a little.

You practically drool at the sight of his cock, angry red tip and curving just right to hit all your spots. He’s big and veiny making you swallow thickly as you try to prepare yourself to take him like you have many times before.

He growls when his sticky tip touches your messy slit. His eyes trained on the sight of your exposed and already stimulated cunt as he pushes his tip past your folds into the overwhelming heat of your slick sex.

A whine bubbles in your throat at the intrusion but he’s quick to wrap a large hand around your throat. His eyes giving you a warning glare.

“Be quiet.” And you do. With glassy eyes as he pushes more of his length inside you, it feels like he’s in your guts already when he reaches halfway and with a low groan that has your legs shaking he thrusts the rest in. Impatient as he tries to wait for you to accommodate to him.

He gives you a manic smile that sends a shiver down your spine before he’s grabbing the headboard, his dark hair tickling your skin as he stares down at you and you take notice of the red on his hands and arms now, your eyes widening in alarm at the sight you should be used to by now.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He breathes out before pulling back and then slamming into your heat. Your eyes threaten to roll back but he squeezes your throat, a silent warning. Keep your eyes on his own icy blues. He likes to watch your reactions through your pretty hues.

His tip bumps your cervix repeatedly, your body rocking against the bed as his hand around your throat holds you in place beneath him as a choked moan falls from your soft lips and he takes the opportunity to lean down until his lips are against yours and his tongue is exploring your mouth.

You whimper at the contact, eyes squeezed shut as he thrusts roughly into you without any mercy for your poor cunt that squelches lewdly around his cock. There’s already a creamy ring around the base of it and his thumb pushes your chin up and further into the kiss before he releases you as you gasp for air.

His hand lets go of your neck, a faint mark around it as his hand slides down your body until it rests against your exposed lower tummy, pressing down against it and making you aware of what’s now faintly bumping against his hand.

“You feel me right here, doll?” He teases in your ear, staring down with you at the small bump that reappears with each thrust into your spent pussy and your head lolls to the side with a moan at the sight. It felt like he was in your guts to begin with but this is just evidence of it being true.

His big hand squeezes at your hip as you try to move against him, pushing you down into the mattress and you can barely hear the headboard hitting the wall over his few groans accompanied by heavy breathing. Your body felt like it was on fire and there was a knot forming in your stomach and overstimulation in your poor cunt has tears beginning to fall down your cheeks.

“Aw, ‘t’s too much?” He coos at the sight. You nod slightly, his hips snapping particularly rougher at that as a wide grin spreads across his scarred face.

“I hope it’s too much.” He laughs at the pathetic way your eyes roll into the back of your skull, tongue peeking past your swollen lips as he hits that sticky spot that has you keening into him. “I hope you can’t handle it.”

“Jeff— Fuck, ngh, ‘m gonna cum!” You sob out, words slurred as you feel pressure build up in your core, threatening to spill over as you stare up at him with begging eyes.

“Yeah? Gonna cum on my cock like a dumb slut?” He hums when your walls squeeze around him tighter. “Ya gonna cream around me like the dirty whore you are?”

“Please, please, please!” You don’t know what you’re begging for now. Maybe it’s your release, perhaps it’s even for him to slow down so you can handle it but tingles spark in your body as his thumb taps against your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your mouth in a ‘o’ shape as your legs tremble and you feel his hot seed spurt into you. That’s what it takes for your orgasm to come, you don’t know how many times he had you cum before this but you felt weak and dizzy from it all regardless. Your mouth hung open as your eyes almost cross and your back arched. It was so overwhelming you could scream but no sound came out as he panted above you before resting his head against your shoulder.

There’s a bit of silence afterwards before he pulls out with slight hesitance, fixing his pants back up before staring at the mesmerizing sight of your spent pussy drooling his cum. If he had the time he’d fuck you again, but he’s going to miss his only opening to leave soon if he doesn’t speed this up. It would be a shame to get rid of your parents after you had begged him so prettily to let them live.

He feels better now as he pushes the mixture of your sticky essence and his warm seed back into your quivering cunt before leaning over your heated face and kissing you by surprise. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes widen at the act or how your hands seem to cling to his hoodie stained with red. It’s addicting to leave you wanting more from him like this, he can’t get enough of you and your reactions.

He pulls away leaving you to want him and his touch in silence before glancing down at your bare body in embarrassment. Isn’t that cute?

“I’ll come back soon, sweetheart.” He promises. He always does and he always will. When you’re asleep, sometimes when you’re awake and studying late into the night and see him knocking on your window.

You nod hopefully at him, a sparkle in your eyes at his words as you tug the sheets up your cold body and curl into them, aware of the mess leaking down your inner thigh at the movement.

He bends down in the ground but it’s hard to tell what he’s doing in the darkness before he’s standing up and slipping back out your window.

You mutter his name, quiet and soft but he halts his hands from pulling down the window and instead leans on the sill with a low hum.

“Thank you,” You’re sincere and it’s laughable to him, amusing to see someone actually thank a killer such as himself but he grins back at you regardless of how stupid you were.

“Happy birthday, doll.” He says it for the second time that night and with that he pulls the window closed and stalks off into the cover of night.

You giggle to yourself, a smile on your face that almost leaves your cheeks feeling sore as you touch your heated face and think over the whole thing. Did that really happen? Were you just dreaming right now? The ache between your legs is enough of a reminder of your reality and if you could you’d kick your shaking legs around like a school girl. You’d wait expectantly for his arrival like always, falling asleep well into the night to be woken up to his tainted touch like always.

You’re in a fantasy smiling dreamily while he’s sneaking past houses and back into the woods with a sinister smirk on his face.

A familiar pair of lacy pink panties clutched in his dirty hand, a bloody knife in the other as he disappears into the night.

#jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer smut #creepypasta smut #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x y/n #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x you #creepypasta #creepypasta x you #creepypasta x female reader #this was literally just a cringey ass self indulgent bday fic i made last year ew

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grison-in-space · 1 year

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man I've been listening to Guards! Guards! again, right. I was going to do Feet of Clay again but I wanted so badly to spend some time with Lady Sybil in her element, so I detoured over to the beginning. (Incidentally, Making-Money!Vetinari up against Guards!-Guards!Vetinari is one hell of a contrast. One gets the sincere impression that older Vetinari would wipe the floor with his younger self if they ever met, and then be painfully embarrassed afterward; and yet you can see the potential among the arrogance. I wrote this bit before I wrote a longer piece about that exchange, but I'll get round to linking it in here in a moment.)

But I wanted to discuss Sybil.

The first thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is an archetype of a certain kind of autistic person, usually a woman (or a queer man). You find them in every kind of domestic animal fancy, although Sybil is of the class and rank that generally focuses on relatively large, expensive, and impractical animals; the dragon fancy is mostly based on the dog fancy, with strong influence from horse fancies and sometimes cat or falconry fancies. It is not a coincidence that Sybil is unmarried and that most of her time is spent with other women, often middle class or upper class women, who share her all consuming interest in dragons; this has been a really common social circle for autistics, especially autistic women with independent money, into a given animal fancy since the cultural concept of animal fancies existed.

The second thing you have to understand about Sybil is that she is not at all a conventionally attractive woman. Here are the things we learn about her as Vimes does, in order: she has inherited wealth and status that she does not particularly care about; she is large--taller than Vimes himself, or at least tall enough to loom over him--and "booms" confidently and incomprehensibly at him; and even after she takes off the heavy protective armor useful for conducting a dragon mating, she's tall and fat and (implied to be) heavily muscled under the fat. Her figure is compared to the Venus of Willendork, or perhaps an operatic Valkyrie, and she wears wigs because she is generally fairly bald, or at least singed. She's loud by nature. She wanders around with a dragon on her shoulder creating awful smells and occasionally dribbling.

God, I love her. Speaking as another erstwhile animal fancy autistic, she's really living the dream there. And this little Watch man shows up in her life, totally fails to understand what she's asking for when she tries to conscript him into the easy job for the breeding she's trying to facilitate, and then sits and asks her a bunch of pointed questions about her beloved dragons. He's weird in his own way and a little drunk, and he really is unfortunate enough not to have any dragons experience at all, but he sits down and he asks her questions and he listens to everything she can infodump at her with, as far as I can tell, rapt fascination.

This is not an experience Sybil Ramkin has frequently had. He doesn't try to escape or change the subject or draw her back to the pieces he cares about even a little bit. He's clearly dazed and confused and probably, knowing Vimes, a little bit drunk, but he's not even visibly discomfited enough to shove poor old Dewdrop Maybelline Talonthrust the First out of his lap. Sybil clearly knows that most people don't appreciate being drooled acid on, and tells Vimes repeatedly that he can shove the old man off, but he makes no effort to do so at any point. Given that dragons are described as having a quite pervasive smell, and given all the other details of their biology, I can't even begin to imagine how awful the old dragon must smell... and Vimes just sort of rolls with it.

(It's a pity Pterry didn't understand show names at all, of course; the ones we get should tell us something about the relationships among dragons and kennels, and the prefixes should be repeated, and whatever Sybil's own kennel name is should be present in many of the dragons she mentions. Probably it's either Talonthrust or Moonmist, but either way Goodboy Bindle Featherstone of Quirm is named entirely wrong. He's clearly of her own breeding, so he should have a kennel prefix or suffix that aligns with hers, not a name that has nothing in common with her other dragons and implies that his dam was bred by the duchess of Quirm rather than by Sybil herself.)

He listens and he listens and he asks questions and he goes down to the kennels to look at her pride and joy and listen to her explaining what makes each of them so nice. And then he brings her an incredibly exciting present. And he expresses interest in the sweet little whittle she's been trying to work out what to do with, who is totally not a breeding specimen but is too weird even for the sort of people who adopt dragons from the Sunshine Sanctuary. He doesn't even try to leave until the big dragon overhead causes a big stir, and then when she has him taken to her house to recover, she finds him reading her book about diseases of the dragons with every evidence of fascination.

Small wonder she takes notice of him, really.

#discworld #sybil ramkins #sybil

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kazelvr · 7 months

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₊˚ෆˎˊ˗ let the light in

synopsis. relationship headcannons with 3 of my fav csm characters (strictly fem reader for quanxi, gender neutral reader for the rest)

cw. suggestive in quanxi’s part, im just absolutely in love with her lol, mentions of vomit in denji’s part, implied modern au in aki’s part

note. my writing may be a bit different, because i’m trying something new.. i apologize 😭. i also made this half asleep.. time check 4:11 am

denji (デンジ)

to be real, denji has no clue about healthy relationships. that’s putting it mildly, right? the only ‘relationships’ he’s had were all about manipulation and brainwashing.

but hey, he really does put in the effort for you! denji’s going to do whatever it takes to make you happy, such as going bankrupt for the sake of a gift.

despite being in a relationship, denji still feels awkward around you. his shyness towards you was evident from the beginning, and now it has only intensified. please bear with him, he’ll come around eventually!

but when he does get comfortable.. denji forms a deep emotional connection with you. he’s faced many challenges, and all he’s ever wanted is to feel loved. you have become that source of comfort to him, and that means the world.

at first, his kisses can be awkward, unsure of where to put his hands, and he might even keep this eyes open. you might need to show him how to kiss properly, which can be even harder if he’s your first kiss.

he always craves cuddles, day in and out. he’s a true cuddlebug. he likes feeling the steady rhythm of your breath against his skin. whether if he’s the little spoon, or the big spoon, his sole desire is to sleep while being in physical contact with you. he finds it impossible to sleep without you.

on those days when you’re super busy and can’t cuddle with him, denji gets all pouty. it’s quite dramatic, really, how he gives you the side eye and ignores you when you try to talk about it. but, he can’t stay mad at you forever. eventually, he’ll give in and cling onto you like a koala. he’s not letting go, by the way.

he is keeping you away from power at all costs, even if you two are friends. if she ever found out that denji has a partner, she will not leave him alone. power will definitely embarrass denji in front of you, telling you about all of his flaws while he tries to stop her from saying anything else… he was never able to stop her.

on your birthday, aki attempted to assist denji in preparing a meal for you. unfortunately, it was a complete disaster and the food turned out to be unappetizing… despite aki’s desperate attempts to persuade denji not to serve you his charred creation, denji, being denji, stubbornly refused to listen. when you took a bite, the taste was so revolting that your stomach couldn’t bear it any longer. you regurgitated the ill fated meal… it’s the thought that counts, right?

overall, he’s trying really hard to be a good boyfriend, please appreciate him.

aki hayakawa (早川アキ)

this man…. phewww…

aki is the epitome of a respectful boyfriend, always seeking your consent before engaging in any action, be it a simple kiss or a gentle touch.

if you happen to be someone who tends to be disorganized and messy, rest assured aki will gladly take on the responsibility of tidying up after you. regardless of the severity of the mess, simply tell him, and he will promptly begin cleaning it up, without any judgement.

bathing together has become a regular routine for the both of you, a frequent occurrence that follows a long day of hunting devils. aki, in particular, finds comfort in sharing these type of moments with you. the soothing warmth of the bathwater coupled with the gentle sensation of your hands massaging shampoo into his hair, while he rests against your chest, brings him a new profound sense of relaxation. it’s not always about being sexual, but rather the feeling of closeness with you that brings him a sense of tranquility.

aki is like a dad sending text messages. when he’s not around, he would text you to ask if you need anything from the store. when he receives your response, he replies back with a simple “👍” emoji. that’s it.

aki is all about being the big spoon— it’s just who he is. aki has experienced too much loss and he can’t bear the thought of losing you. he holds you tightly in his grasp, afraid that if he loosens his grip, he’ll lose you, even though that would never be the case. your presence alone brings him a sense of security, and all he wants is for you to be safe.

every morning, this man never leaves for work without giving you a gentle kiss, even if you’re still groggy. you’re the sole reason he can maintain his sanity while battling devils all day.

to aki, you’re like his home, his safe space. you are the one he can confide in, and shed tears without any guilt, and that is one of the many reasons why he loves you.

aki is tall, standing at 190cm (6’2). every time you talk to him, he lowers himself to your level so he can hear you more clearly. sometimes, you think he’s doing it to make fun of you, but in reality, he just wants to be close to you.

aki has a reputation for being aloof, but in reality, he is the complete opposite. he’s a dork. a dork who can’t help but smile whenever your name comes up, a dork who finds himself captivated by your every feature, analyzing them with great interest. a dork who’s madly in love.

quanxi (クァンシ)

quanxi has a deep admiration for her girls’ body, and it’s no secret - especially to you, who has personally felt her touch. every inch of your body is your favorite, from the curves of your breasts to the softness of your thighs. she revels in worshiping every aspect of you, leaving you feeling loved.

when someone utters even the slightest offensive remark towards you, quanxi’s protective remarks kick in, particularly if it comes from a man. she wholeheartedly defends you, regardless of whether you were in the wrong (gotta stand up for your girls), she becomes so defensive she almost resorts to physical confrontation, refusing to let anyone disrespect under her watch.

quanxi’s touch is ever-present. usually, it’s her hand on your waist in public, marking you as hers. behind closed doors, she explores every inch of you. it makes you wonder if she’s a different person outside of the public eye. but, who’s complaining?

i like to think that when quanxi gets drunk, she gets awfully needy and with you. she enjoys holding onto your arm and leaning against you, gently nibbling your ear, while softly expressing slurred compliments about your beauty.

quanxi is your ultimate protector, in every sense of the word. facing a menacing devil? before you can even blink, quanxi is by your side, fearlessly slaying the creature. your girlfriend takes pride in being your number one protecter, regardless of your strength.

making out sessions happen 90% of the time you two are together. quanxi simply can’t resist when you give her that irresistible look, with your lips appearing soft and pouted!

titty lover

#chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #denji x reader #denji x you #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #quanxi x reader

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sneezemonster15 · 1 year

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I have written a little about how Sakura is written to be irrelevant throughout the narrative by Kishi, and as a result, demeaning her character through the literary tool of subversion. Here's another example of how Kishimoto makes Sakura's character redundant and very intently makes her the laughingstock of the manga. Like I have mentioned before, he gets some kind of perverse pleasure out of showing both Hinata and Sakura down and he would go a painstakingly intricate and at times, long way to do it too.

I will be publishing a longer write up about this subversion that Kishi uses for Sakura as an answer to an ask but I am writing this particular post separately because this bunch of chapters portray a series of incidents where Kishi really does it without any subtlety and is pretty in your face about it too, like you can viscerally feel his disdain towards Sakura's character just wafting over and it has made her a huge target for ridicule, it has become a ubiquitous topic for very popular jokes and memes even outside the fandom, lol.

Okay, so the chapter I am talking about is chapter 675 where Sakura has just been kamui'd out by Obito from his space time dimension to protect her from Madara's attack after she fails to stab his rinnegan eye. But she never had much determination to speak of unless it had to do with showing off to Sasuke and Naruto, mostly Sasuke. What is interesting to notice is that it also pointedly harks back to something else that she did (or didn't do lol) with her kunai which resulted in a frustrated and (greatly) annoyed audience, courtesy Kishi.

Her nervous expression, the trembling kunai just centimetres away from its target but unable to reach it, failure to do it anyway, giving an opening to her opponent that could have easily been avoided had she been a little more resolute (no one really asked her to take on Sasuke though, that was her own decision given her poor sense of judgment, fighting strategy and skills), getting attacked by the opponent and then getting rescued by someone. Mostly Naruto.

#Redundant

Anyway. She couldn't do anything, having failed to stab Obito's eye so she is transported back by Obito and she joins Kakashi and Sasuke who are waiting for Madara to return. She sees Kakashi's condition and starts to heal him. Naruto leaves his clone to hold Madara's shadow captive with his sage of six paths staff and returns to Sasuke's side, his better half of the 'main act' of the war which has already been established at this point.

So seeing Sakura healing Kakashi, he takes over from a resisting Sakura and heals him. The ONE thing that she could do and not feel redundant in the trio is taken away from her, lolol.

He not only heals him, he gives him a brand new eye, something that is beyond the reach of prevailing medical jutsu itself. How can Sakura even hope to compete with this? Lolol. Kishi, you sadistic so and so! You won't even let her catch a break.

Naruto can't explain and doesn't even understand how he did it and it took Sakura years of effort to learn medical jutsu and achieve a stage where she could even use her mitotic regeneration jutsu. Hahahahaha.

#Redundant

Okay, now then, Sasuke tells Naruto to keep his guard up while Sakura is acting like her usual pointlessly high handed self trying to condescend to Naruto who just made her presence utterly pointless, and Kakashi starts to reminisce about team seven dynamic. Kakashi, a man who has a very shallow understanding of his team members (he thinks Sakura's love has changed from what it was and that she is kind and gentle lol) and not at all about Sasuke, which he thankfully admits.

But what's funny to me is that Kishi was totally focusing on showing Sakura down, mercilessly. So Kakashi is seen reminiscing about their first day in team seven.

Sakura squealing like a typical immature fangirl crushing over an entirely disinterested and quite embarrassed boy, while having no other goal or objective. While Naruto announces his goal to surpass the current hokage, Sasuke divulges his ambition of restoring his clan's honour and killing Itachi, Sakura just blushes and squeals.

Kakashi thinks she is kind and gentle (because of course he has never seen Sakura treating Naruto, at times even a badly injured Naruto, like a punching bag and manipulating him and everyone else for her ill conceived plans), she has grown and her love for Sasuke has matured because she still cares about him even though he tried to kill her in kage arc. Oh sure, running after a boy and begging for his attention no matter what the circumstances or timing is totally what a mature woman would do, lol. Thing is, he has got blinders on when it comes to Sakura because he obviously very conveniently forgets that Sakura attacked Sasuke first, in fact, she went there with the sole intention of killing Sasuke, while not knowing the truth but suspecting something, after having orchestrated a plan that included fake confessing to Naruto (#rejected lol), drugging her team mates and armed with a puny poisoned kunai which she didn't have the presence of mind to deduce would be pointless against Sasuke who trained with Orochimaru for years, some medical ninja, lol.

Kakashi treats her with kid gloves and doesn't understand Sasuke's feelings or motivations given his own lack of perception and failure to understand the intricacies of emotions and relationships, he makes a lot of faux pas when it comes to his team seven members. Kishi knows that these are the questions any reader would ask since these elements were given such consistent visibility in the manga and such consistent characterisation to the players, he is not an idiot. So he uses indirect and subtle techniques and narrative elements, and forces the reader to ask questions and then provides the answers. How? By showing, not telling. Okay, a little telling as well.

Kishi has already established, through Kakashi's interactions with Obito, that Kakashi is definitely flawed as he writes him to admit that he tried his best but he made mistakes.

And that it can be contributed to his past, when he lost his father so cruelly along with his team mates. He also admits that giving false hope to Sakura when Sasuke is about to abandon Konoha was wrong. And what this proves is that Kakashi isn't infallible. His hypocrisy is very apparent when the core of his principle is to cherish his comrades and yet couldn't even attempt to understand Sasuke, given Sasuke's excruciatingly disturbing and scarring past. And even at the end, he expects Sasuke to behave and acts like it was all Sasuke's fault, not having understood him at all. The reason Sasuke gave up at the end was due to the revelatory experience he had with Naruto in chapter 698. Kakashi is emotionally stunted, perhaps which is why he is so good at being an ideal shinobi. A shinobi doesn't cry, doesn't emote, doesn't complain, doesn't break orders and protects his village with his life. Anyway, what becomes clear is that Kakashi's emotional perception is quite affected and far from accurate for sure.

Anyway, so Kakashi reminisces about what he perceives as the team seven dynamic after Naruto heals his eye and then reminds Sasuke of the first lesson he taught them when they were rookies. Sasuke remains meaningfully silent and only grunts. He obviously has a very low opinion of Kakashi, justifiably, as was established in kage arc and the succeeding chapters after this one emphasize it even more. Heh.

So what does 'Team Seven' decide on?

TEAMWORK.

Where was this notion of Team seven teamwork emphasized on the last time before this? Here.

Where Sakura is seen nursing her past insecurities and ramping her ego to join Naruto and Sasuke in the fight because she can't tolerate being protected by them anymore like a damsel in distress.

She thought she was a full fledged kunoichi after passing her genin exams, lol.

Anyway, so she doesn't want to gaze at the boys' back, meaning being shielded or protected by them, as they proceed to take on their opponent. And she manages to punch and make a dent while insulting her own sensei, like some badass that she definitely thinks she is, it becomes quite clear from her body language and expression.

Problem is, her feeling so good about herself (I have finally caught up to them) and acting like a badass is very disproportionate with her actual actions and contribution to the battle. Which is why it creates a dissonance in the reader's mind. As she keeps pulling the same shit over and over without changing or improving things, even after having certain realizations, she creates a negative impression of herself in the audience's mind. She doesn't evolve to be better in a manga where characters learn and grow as a rule which then contributes to the main plot, this is a coming of age story as well after all. Same with Hinata.

Btw, Hashirama saying her strength might be greater than Tsunade doesn't mean shit. Because he actually hasn't seen what his grand-daughter is capable of. Her strength is greater than Raikage, as Madara notices after fighting all the kages. Someone as strong as Naruto struggled to fight against Raikage when he tried to stop him from joining the war effort and so Bee had to intervene on his behalf. She couldn't even fight average cloud ninjas Omoi and Karui, lol. Like c'mon, they aren't even portrayed as some super strong, special ninjas, they are a hardly more than comedy fodder. But Kishi won't even let Sakura take some fodder level ninjas, lol, it's embarrassing. And what happens? Naruto comes to her rescue, as always. Heh. No way Sakura is stronger than Raikage, lol.

Why does Kishi do things like these? These obvious contradictions that he knows are very visible to anyone who pays attention? Especially with Sakura, where other characters like Kakashi, Shizune, Hashirama and Jiraiya remark positively about Sakura? To build expectations, make the reader anticipate some awesome action from Sakura, something that would actually justify these positive remarks in the narrative, building the premise of the action, escalating it, but then right at the moment of dramatic and narrative payback, 👎. He makes Sakura fail pathetically (he does the same thing with Hinata) by subverting the narrative development and tropes, by not satisfying the readers' expectations that he so painstakingly develops, by writing the most anti-climactic of actions at the end. No payback whatsoever. What does an actual payback look like? Cue Might Guy's opening all of the eight gates, when he smashes Madara's ribs in as he breaks his own bones in the process. Cue Tsunade grunting like a warrior goddess as she thrashes Madara's clone beyond recognition. Even Sakura when she punches the ground real hard and takes out little juubi soldiers.

He sadistically wastes all that effort that builds up the anticipation.

And what does doing that achieve? Simple. It makes the reader get really annoyed/dissatisfied with the character. And they feel compelled to berate or ridicule her character. And why won't they? They invested in the character and his/her actions in the narrative for a grand payback, watching multiple episodes or reading multiple chapters carefully, and when they don't get it, they would naturally be frustrated. Kishi consistently pulls this shit over and over again with Sakura and Hinata. And why would he go to such lengths to do shit like this? Well, it's not because he wants to make these ladies look credible or worthy. Heheh.

This is exactly why fans who don't see everything through rose coloured glasses, shipping lenses or have a good taste and a good understanding of characters and the human condition, and actually pay attention to what they are watching or reading, are so annoyed by these characters. Notice I am not saying disgusted or hateful (although some of y'all are) but mostly really annoyed and frustrated. Sakura and Hinata, more than anything else (although they are all those things too, like distasteful, boring and cringey lol), are simply annoying. Because of the reason I explained above.

Kishi is fucking relentless about it too. After this sense that he gives the reader of team seven dynamic, he pulls this shit here. No Sakura, no team. Just Naruto and Sasuke being the main act.

After which, we see Naruto and Sasuke fighting together or separately, but not with the team. But after they are given the sage of six paths power by Hagoromo, they fight together, well in sync with each other. Like they are meant to be. Sasuke bosses Naruto around, like usual, Naruto complains nostalgically but you can see he is totally enjoying it to the hilt. And both of them get shit done. Naruto stops Madara's shadow successfully as Sasuke skillfully slashes Madara's physical body in half. But before he can react further, Madara flies to Kakashi, steals his sharingan and just shoves it in his socket, because it really is that simple lol, enters Obito's space time dimension and attacks Sakura. Now Sakura has no idea about Madara's powers, not having fought him at all directly, and definitely not having fought with the juubi jinchuuriki Madara. So where on the one hand, you see Sasuke and Naruto thoughtfully device strategies to fight Madara, Sakura actually is totally clueless. But Kakashi reminds them of 'teamwork'.

So then Madara finally appears and then this happens.

Hahahahaha. Teamwork? What teamwork?Sakura doesn't even know what Madara's strengths or weaknesses are. And just as expected, he stabs her in the chest and stops her punch with his Limbo jutsu. Payback? What payback? Readers who sympathized with Sakura? Disappointed. Readers who wanted returns on their investment, disappointed. But people who understood what she was really like? Vindication. Lol.

She did the same thing here that Hinata does in Pein arc, when she charges at Pein without putting any thought into it. Hinata did it to attract Naruto's attention. And why did Sakura do it?

And what happened in both cases? Long build up resulting in them getting struck with a single hit and then being rescued by someone else. Naruto doesn't even acknowledge Hinata and Sakura droops because Sasuke ain't paying attention to her. So much for team work. Lol.

But what impression does it give to the reader?

1) Sakura's love for Sasuke didn't really evolve did it? It's the same when in part one, she climbs the tree by gathering chakra in her feet to impress Sasuke but Sasuke doesn't pay attention to her and she slumps, highly disappointed. Same as here.

2) She makes it look like she is creating an opening by using a diversionary tactic, but it's quite obvious she is really scared, but is still trying to show off to Naruto and Sasuke because she doesn't wanna stay behind, gazing at their backs again. So she attacks Madara blindly. Her desire to show off and strut around trumps her desire to actually defeat Madara. What a shinobi, lol. This is a freaking war, and she is fighting against a super strong villain who is bent on destroying their world as they know it, but she is more concerned with nursing her own shortcomings. Self centred, yes. And definitely not a badass. Just ass. Hehe.

After getting rescued by Naruto yet again, she wallows in sadness when Sasuke doesn't even glance at her but immediately calls for Naruto, who btw totally gets what he is indicating at without needing to say it out loud. Yay, team seven. Lol. So while Sasuke and Naruto get into form and fight Madara, what does Sakura do?

Precisely nothing. Just sitting there in awe of Sasuke and Naruto. Spellbound at Madara's jutsu and power, that she didn't know zilch about. Kakashi is pretty pointless here as well, but he wasn't the one who just proclaimed they remembered the teamwork lesson and jumped in a fight without any plan. At least, he had the presence of mind to stop Sakura from joining in the fight when Naruto and Sasuke charge at Madara and she again finds herself watching their backs, as he tells her to not do it unless she has a plan. And she does stop, lol. She doesn't have the power or strategy, just ego. All she wants is to impress Sasuke and show off to Naruto and others, who cares there's a war going on? Lol.

3) It becomes pretty clear who the real team is here. And Sakura is very pointedly missing from it. And it stays that way till the end, staying true to the real team seven dynamic. The Main Act.

So after hyping up the team work element, Kishi discards Sakura's inclusion with a ruthless but consistently written treatment and makes her...?

Redundant.

She couldn't heal Kakashi, she couldn't punch Madara. And she didn't mature, like Kakashi believed. Still pretty useless. Lol.

I am aware that her stans only read the most surface level. How else would they justify something they invest so much in? But unfortunately, it's a fact and not a matter of opinion that Kishi never intended to portray her positively and he certainly puts a hell lot of effort to do so in a clever manner. It's not a coincidence that she (along with Hinata) is such a hated character. It's because she has been portrayed that way. Storytelling and visual language are intuitive by nature. All I am doing here is decoding them. I am writing here what you already know. I am just explaining the how of it. Excuse the digressions lol.

#naruto #haruno sakura #anti sakura #anti ss #uzumaki naruto #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasunaru #narusasu #kakashi #anti hinata #naruto meta

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fruitsofhell · 7 months

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I'm actually lowkey embarrassed that dissidia post got the attention that it did cause it's easily like, the lowest intellectual effort post I've ever made dbjdjf, so here's the follow up unhinged rant going over what I love about Kuja in Dissidia Duodecim.

Like I was saying, his writing in Duodecim is AMAZING, like everytime I think about it it blows my socks off. It would be so easy if just the whole game he was the Kuja he was during the plot of FF9, shallow, flamboyant, and callous, but they decided to pick up with his arc from the ending! Which is what I like to see in a spinoff like this, not just a rehash of old stuff but a continuation, a reiteration. And doing that also shows great grasp of what his character's about. Dissidia pulls from every mainline Final Fantasy game and isn't shy of the fact that not every game has the most complex villain. I often see Kuja too considered to be just a fun purely evil villain instead of someone with more meat on his narrative bones, which is insulting to me. Kuja isn't motivated by some deep darkness in his soul or a craving for violence and suffering like some other villains, all his actions were motivated by one thing, which was wanting to prove to his creator that he could create his own purpose and worth. It just happens that because he's insane, his methods to this is mass-murder and regicide. He loved life, and Gaian culture, and having a purpose, which is why he has those two massive changes of heart by the end, and is left feeling empty. The life he loved is ending, he scarred the planet that he loved, and the entire narrative he built for himself was null, its just over for him.

And that's where Dissidia picks up, because it understands that Kuja is not a being of darkness nor much of a sadist, he's just a guy who loved theatrics but had that beaten out of him by existential dread and now doesn't want to live anymore. And the only thing that would've given him any reason to live after his defeat, his brother - who was with him till the end and likely the only person from his world who doesn't want to kill him anymore - HAD HIS FUCKING MEMORIES ERASED. So what does Kuja do? He follows Zidane around and tries to help him, because like, literally he's just that grateful to him. Like??? That part's really important to me, cause it would be really easy to assume Kuja was bitter during his defeat, given his actions and apparent shallowness. But this game is SMARTER than that, and it understands that Kuja wasn't angry anymore, he was just empty and still deeply nihilistic. But actually given an opportunity to try again, he sticks to Zidane. Despite there no longer being an external incentive, AND ACTUALLY DESPITE FORCES WORKING AGAINST HIM. Like Kuja was placed on the Chaos side, surrounded by a sea of fellow villains who could produce all the bravado and destruction he used to enjoy, but he was so genuinely disillusioned with that afterwards, he goes out of his way to do right. Despite threat of annihilation by his peers and heroes he was trying to help! LIKE THE GAME GETS THAT HE ISNT JUST EVIL????? IT GETS THAT HE ISN'T JUST A SHALLOW SADIST????? It's fucking heaven-sent.

OH MAN AND THEN HIS INTERACTIONS BEYOND JUST ZIDANE! That interaction he has with Cloud is one of my favorite things ever, it's just fucking rich with characterization for him. And then you have him freeing Terra from her spell because, can you believe it guys, he felt honest to god sympathy and compassion!! Insanity!! And then that leads to his relationship with Kefka which is immaculate! Everything about their relationship helps reiterate Kuja's helplessness as a character and villain, and just makes me fucking DESPISE Kefka. But in the fun intentional way. He's such an abusive, manipulative asshole to him, and it stings like hell to see Kuja once again end up as someone else's pawn BECAUSE HE WAS WILLING TO SPARE ANOTHER FROM THAT FATE. Like it's horrible for him, but it deepens his redemption.

Ok, and last thing is his VOICE!!!!! JD CULLUM!!! JD Cullum, I owe you my life, your Kuja is so delightful! It's just perfect. It has this androgynous softness to it, he switches between the theatrical and honest lines perfectly, and he sounds annoying!! That part is so important to me, if Kuja had a generic sexy villain man voice I'd be so disappointed, but like have you heard him in NT? I don't know why he sounds so happy in that game (I think Zidane has his memories in that one...) but you can hear his stupid little smile behind some of those passive-aggressive one-liners, it's the best! I have Dissidia Duodecim emulated on my PC just for Kuja's lines.

Final Fantasy 9 is criminally underloved by Square, and Kuja as beloved as he is is so often misunderstood and mischaracterized by fans. Dissidia being the only other piece of official media he has a role in and getting it THIS RIGHT brings a tear to my eye. The game in general is just really above average for a silly crossover fighting game, I can't speak for the writing of every character, but I know my Sephiroth friend has moments from that game that give them psychic damage (/positive). And for me, the Kuja Guy, it gives me plenty as well. But also some negative psychic damage cause why tf does he look like that.

#kuja #final fantasy ix #ffix #dissidia final fantasy #dissidia #shut the heck up #kujie #ff9 #babe its 8pm time for heck to ramble about something random #i lov e kuja so much its unreal #i have never been a kinning type of person and i actually find the idea deeply embarassing-#-but i kin kuja. my love for him is thatstrong. stronger than the cringe.#and like between proshippers and bad takes on him its hard being a kuja stan/kinnie in these parts #but dissidia has my back its the only ff fanfiction ill ever need #tag talking

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anneangel · 1 year

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My reasons for loving The Hound of the Baskervilles, are:

1) Watson is my favorite character, and is obviously given more prominence in this book. It's a test of patience having him describe the place for several paragraphs, and watching him look for his own clues in his own way, but it shows me a lot who Watson is, and how he differs from Sherlock (in parts, we can understand why the detective, with his practical mind, does not admire Watson's prolixity and excessive description for details that escape the elementary data).

2) Watson is different from Sherlock, knowing this he doesn't make the mistake of trying to "act like Sherlock", Watson doesn't change his way of being. And I admire him for it.

3) The way Watson is ashamed to have followed Henry and seen him in a moment of intimacy, making him feel obliged to report his presence and make excuses and justifications. Watson showing honesty.

4) The way Watson wants to be useful to Sherlock, be worthy of his trust and prove his worth, writing reports to him with the utmost sense of duty and honor, believing himself to be on a "mission", and wanting to receive praise from his "superior/ master" (Sherlock). To the point of blushing with embarrassment just thinking about failing.

5) The way Watson doesn't believe the haunted dog for thinking himself to be "a sensible person". What oppresses him is the peaceful and depressing place, not the ghostly legend. How Watson, although his nerves shaken by adrenaline and tension, enters the swamp and wanders through it (even at night) without great fear. Showing your courage.

6)The way Watson doesn't shoot the criminal, given that the man is unarmed and on the run, and it would be shameful and dishonest for the dr. Watson shoot under those circumstances.

7) The way Watson feels sorry for the criminal for being somewhere out there in the cold, thinking the man is experiencing an atonement for all the sins he's committed. Showing his clemency, kindness and pity even towards someone who took the "wrong path in life".

8) The way Watson gets upset when thinks that Sherlock didn't read his reports and that Holmes didn't trust him, after Watson efforts to prove yourself useful and worthy. But also the way Watson listens to the detective's justification and understands (and forgives) without much difficulty. Showing your emotional lability and capacity for forgiveness.

9) How useful Watson's reports were as Sherlock used them to survey each person's past life and investigate the elementary data, separating the important from the irrelevant.

10) Sherlock alleges that was afraid tell about was there, as Watson, if he knew, might be willing to bring him information personally or some comfort for the detective, at the risk of revealing Holmes' presence and location. Which is plausible, if you remember that Watson felt sorry for a criminal who was out in the cold, imagine if he knew that Sherlock was out there too? Watson worry about Holmes wouldn't leave him alone. It just goes to show how dedicated and zealous he is.

11) The way Watson is able to meet all the demands that are imposed on him competently, but he is relieved to see Sherlock being there, and no longer having the responsibility in his hands. Sherlock is the active and bossy mind, and as he says "Watson is the action guy", not the orders guy.

12) The way Watson's "nerves" are being pressed with all the tension of the "mission", but the adrenaline and his sense of duty, firm attitude and tenacity, make him always ready. In addition to his zeal and concern for Henry Baskerville.

For me, this book shows a lot of the "good doctor, but military" that John H. Watson is. Kindness and Firmness. Honesty and Honor. Humanity with emotional lability and Sense of ethical duty. Beneficence and Readiness. Naivety and Proactivity. All merged into the same character.

BONUS

And yet Sherlock, twice, showing concern for Watson (and client, ready to avenge him if necessary, wouldn't be the first time) only showing that he is not just the cold and analytical thinking machine that many seem to believe:

"I can only wish you better luck in Devonshire. But I'm not easy in my mind about it." (say Sherlock).

"About what?" (Say Watson).

"About sending you. It's an ugly business, Watson, an ugly dangerous business, and the more I see of it the less I like it. Yes my dear friend, you may laugh, but I give you my word that I shall be very glad to have you back safe and sound in Baker Street once more." (Say Sherlock)

And then after:

"My dear friend, you have been invaluable to me in this as in many other cases, and I beg that you will forgive me if I have seemed to play a trick upon you. In truth, it was partly for your own sake that I did it, and it was my appreciation of the danger which you ran which led me to come down and examine the matter for myself" (Sherlock say).

Yes. Of the 4 Doyle crime novels, this one is my favorite. No doubt.

#sherlock holmes #john watson #acd canon #arthur conan doyle #the hound of the baskervilles #book #sherlock x john

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phantasmiafxndom · 10 months

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Hi again!

For the hybrid au. The caretaker of the bird boys (separately) taking care of their back pain. Massaging the painful areas with a muscle relaxant, giving them a warm bath, pain medicine, etc.

Just trying the best they can to make the pain stop (or at least lessen) and make the boys comfortable.

Hybrid Au info

Kisaki

Even though he very much wants to refuse the spoiling and avoid making himself look needy, Tetta does a terrible job of resisting your attempts to help. If he's attached to you by that point, the bird-instinct, socially needy part of him wants to be cared for even more than he wants to preserve his pride. Any amount of relief from the strain his wings put on his body earns a visible reaction, too. No matter how embarrassing that is, it's hard to think straight when you're still touching him so sweetly, and when accepting it means that the affection will continue for a while longer.

Hanma

Despite his best efforts not to show how unsettled he is by the spoiling, Shuuji isn't taking it well. He gets restless and fidgety fast, unable to handle so much attention when he doesn't have to work for it at all. There's never been any real relief from the pain before, and even though your efforts aren't easing it completely, the sudden lack of awful aches in his back and shoulders is affecting him a lot more than he wants to show. Even though he's obviously relaxing under your touch, Shuuji keeps being a pest in the hopes that these vulnerable feelings won't show through.

#Tokyo Revengers #TokRev #Tetta #Kisaki Tetta #Shuuji #Hanma Shuuji #Headcanon #Reader #TokRev Hybrid Au

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ff7-has-taken-me-over · 1 year

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Look I’m soft and I cannot handle angst with my boys 😭

So I’m changing the subject with a prompt I had soap being short and the struggles that come with it

I can imagine soap having to ask to get something off like the top self since he can’t reach (neither can I lol) and when he needs something from like a high self he’ll go on someone shoulders. Ghost (obviously) is like the first person he goes to because as much as he tease him he’ll help him with no problem ( ghost just likes soap thighs around his neck) but there are other that will help him (König , Alejandro, Rudy, etc they too like soap thighs around their neck) ghost doesn’t like that so he’ll always offer to carry soap anytime even when it’s not needed (soap thinks it’s cute) sometimes soap show that he can still get stuff with or without help (ghost finds his smile adorable after he gets what he reach for.)

Price actually is the one who puts stuff down where soap can reach so he doesn’t hear about all the nosebleeds, passed out men, or red, flustered faces soap cause just because he accidentally tightened his thighs against their neck

I love putting them through pain sometimes. It’s so much fun. But this was both hilarious and too cute and I got very carried away with it 😅

I can literally see Soap climbing the cabinets and shit to get things up high because he doesn’t wanna bother anyone and it’s too much effort to grab a seat and use that. Nobody knows he does this though since he does it when nobody else is around because he knows they’ll all make fun of him for being short.

So the first time Ghost walks in and sees Soap, half up a cabinet, precariously balancing on the open door and bench while reaching for a container, he just about shits a brick 😂 he full on, freaks tf out and speed walks over only to lift the man from the cabinets and put him back on the floor.

Soap’s upset and embarrassed and Ghost is wildly exasperated but he’s also so soft for those sad eyes and pout that he just offers to boost the man up on his shoulders. Johnny still looks reluctant but ends up accepting, embarrassment quickly dying and being replaced with excitement at being so tall.

And if Ghost finds that he loves having the man’s thighs around his head and is totally unbothered when Johnny asks if he can stay up there a little longer? Well that’s his business.

The next time Soap needs help Ghost isn’t around but König is, and the sergeant would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about how it would feel to be even taller than what he was on Ghost’s shoulders.

The Austrian has no issue helping the man out, letting him up and smiling under the mask when he’s met with an excited little laugh and the man’s thighs squeezing a little tighter around his head. He can see why so many people would gush about wanting their heads to be crushed by big thighs.

Rudy ends up doing it because: 1) Gaz refused to do it and 2) Soap nearly cracked his head open when his foot slipped off the shelf. And he’s gotta say, he would happily die there, between those glorious thighs, with a half hearted apology to Alejandro for leaving him behind.

Of course Alejandro had to do it because Rudy kept ranting about how divine it was and how they should try and introduce Soap into their dynamic in some way. So of course he had to see what all the fuss is about. But when Soap needs help reaching something Ghost is there and won’t let anyone else help the man, even though there are some very enthusiastic volunteers for the job.

In the end Alejandro decides to just pick the man up of his own accord, completely ignoring the glare Ghost sends him in favour of relishing in the way Soap’s thighs squeeze tight in his panic to stay upright. Yes, him and Rudy would have to figure out a way to bring Soap into their dynamic. Ghost and his jealousy be damned.

Price has seen pretty much all of these instances and he’s so over all these men fawning over his pseudo son’s thighs. If he had it his way, everything would be stored down low so all those tall bastards would have to bend down to get things. But then that might cause a whole new problem since Soap didn’t crouch when he needed things from down low.

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bluemidnightmelody · 29 days

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lover/fighter - my favorite moments

[Little snippets from my Finnick/OC longfic that are stuck in my head]

From Chapter 49 - (title)

As much as she has enjoyed today's outing, she is dreading the long walk back that still lies ahead of her. She could lie down on the hard stone right now and still fall asleep, she suddenly feels so tired, but in order not to embarrass herself she remains silent and tries to keep going, with the soft bed as her goal in her mind's eye.

She really does make every effort, but Finnick quickly notices how her already slow steps become increasingly sluggish. After he stops for the third time, only to realize that she can barely keep up with him, even though he is not walking very fast, he addresses her about it. "You're not quite as rested as you thought, are you, Princess?" he asks, slightly amused.

The look on Rhea's face shows that she has been caught out, but at the same time that she is definitely not ready to admit it. "I didn't expect it to be this far," she replies, panting, and finally catches up with him again.

Finnick looks at her with amusement but also feels sorry for her. He's probably overdone it a little today, especially after she's been pulling all-nighters because of him. So he turns around, but instead of walking on, he bends down on one knee and says with a playful look over his shoulder, "Come here, so we can get home before midnight."

Rhea raises her eyebrows and eyes him skeptically. "Definitely not. I'm not six anymore," she replies stubbornly. Is he seriously offering to give her a piggyback ride?

Finnick groans and rolls his eyes at her stubbornness, which drives her to always try to do everything on her own without help, even when she's about to pass out. When she doesn't respond to his second request and still stands rigidly in place, he announces, "I'm not going to kneel on the floor for you forever, so climb up now or I'll have to leave you here."

Rhea bites her cheek, which once again becomes noticeably warm, but then forces herself to follow his words. It's hard to say what she finds more embarrassing, his choice of words or being carried by him like a backpack. She is unsure about every part of her body and doesn't know where to put it as she holds on to his shoulders. The moment he stands up, she realizes that this way she'll end up on the floor again sooner than she'd like and she makes herself wrap her arms around his neck.

Finnick has the audacity to chuckle at her startled squeak and when he turns his grinning face to hers pressed into his right shoulder, he's just way too close. "See, it wasn't that hard after all," he jokes, moving her a little higher onto his back with his grip securely around her thighs and marching on as if he doesn't even notice the extra weight.

Rhea soon forgets her sense of shame as it is replaced by the returning tiredness. Now that she no longer has to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, it is even more overwhelming than before. Soon her eyes begin to fall shut repeatedly until she no longer really wants to fight it.

"You're not seriously falling asleep on me right now, are you?" comes Finnick's amused question from right next to her ear. Where her hands rest on his chest, she can feel his laughter as a dull rumble.

"It's your own fault for being comfortable enough to do that," she replies sleepily, without opening her eyes.

Finnick accepts it with another laugh. What else could he do, because to be honest, it's more than endearing when this side of her comes out from under the deliberately strengthened exterior. Apart from that, there is probably no one who is more aware of how much trust you need to have to put yourself in such a vulnerable position with someone else. He can tell by the slow, steady breathing right next to his ear that she is indeed sleeping peacefully, completely defenseless and left alone in his care in the middle of District 4.

If he were someone else, he could be dragging her off anywhere right now and doing whatever he wanted to her, but she seems to be carefree in the conviction that no harm will come to her in his company. That's by no means a given, which is why he hardly ever sleeps in the Capitol, especially not when he's not sure that he's completely alone.

Rhea only starts to wake up again when loud voices rouse her from sleep. With her face still buried in Finnick's shoulder, she blinks, confused and sleepy. It takes her a long time to realize that the loud voices belong to the market vendors, who are loudly advertising their wares, and that they are already back in the village, on their way to the Victors' Village. She suddenly comes to her senses as embarrassment takes hold of her again.

"Good morning, sweetheart, did you sleep well?" asks Finnick, chuckling as he continues on his way unmolested.

"You should have woken me up. Can you put me down please?" Rhea replies energetically, but in a whisper, so as not to draw any more attention to herself and the fact that she, as a grown woman, is being carried home piggyback, like a little girl who has over-exerted herself while playing.

She can't see Finnick's indulgent grin, but she can hear it in his voice as he replies, "Well, that sounded quite different not too long ago. Didn't you say that I was too comfortable?"

"Cut the crap Finnick, it's different when everyone is looking at us," she hisses back, hoping he won't torment her any longer.

But Finnick just laughs in amusement and replies, "I'm just good enough to use as a pillow, but you're suddenly ashamed of it now?"

"Just put me down Finnick."

"What if I don't want to?" he asks provocatively as they continue their walk through the streets of District 4.

"Finnick," she whines a little desperately. Two elderly ladies with their shopping baskets walk past them, giggling and holding their hands in front of their faces as they give them curious glances from the side. Finnick gives them a charming smile while Rhea buries her face in his neck and tries not to die of shame. "This is so embarrassing," she whimpers into his shirt.

"Because of them?" Finnick laughs, good-humored and not the least bit disturbed. "They're just giggling because this is probably the cutest thing they've seen in a while. Maybe they think we're young lovers, old ladies just love that sort of thing," he explains unperturbed.

An unreal thought. But if you took it further, you could ask yourself if this is what it would actually be like to have Finnick as a real lover. Not what the Capitolites fantasize about, but something genuine, not feigned or forced. And with someone as captivating as him, it's hard to think about what true affection from him would feel like without developing at least the slightest bit of longing for it.

Rhea can do nothing but give up and accept her situation, because Finnick really doesn't seem to be willing to let her escape. As often as he accuses her of being stubborn, he himself can't be persuaded to do anything when he's set his mind to something else and only ever does what he likes. At least whenever he is able to.

"You're so wicked," she mumbles sulkily.

Finnick just laughs again. "I'm carrying you all the way home. I think I'm the perfect gentleman."

Links to all the chapters: lover/fighter - Chapter Index

fanfiction on ao3 and wattpad

#the hunger games #hunger games #ao3 #finnick odair #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair x oc #finnick odair x reader #finnick x oc #the hunger games x oc #thg finnick #fanfiction #thg fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic

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daintylovers · 2 years

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Mike dating a theater kid?

he used to make fun of theater kids 100% ( i think he forgot that he literally plays dnd but whatever)

one night max dragged the group to the newest play because she wanted to support you

you played one of the side characters, onstage about 75% of the time

and my god, no one had ever seen mike pay so much attention to 75% of something

it was like the spotlight was on you in his eyes

he thought you were great! i mean sure you guys had shared a few classes over the years, him thinking you were pretty but being too shy to say something

but now?? after your performance?? oh brother, he thought he was in love

the next week that commenced, mike pestered max beyond belief about you

how did she become friends with you? what were you like? did you think tall lanky boys with awkward black hair were cute?

finally max had enough and ended up dragging him to meet you. she placed him at your lunch table, told you BOTH to stop bothering her about each other, and walked away

turns out you had harboured feelings towards mike for a longer time than he would have thought.

you guys talked the entire time, then were late for class because of it

suddenly, the two of you were seen everywhere together. except for when your play practice interfered with his hellfire meetings

but he always made sure that eddie never planned a game during one of your shows

he always sat front row on opening nights, arms filled with flowers and a little stuffed animal

now you have a small assortment of stuffed animals gifted from mike from the opening nights

the rest of the shows he attends, just not in the front

he also tries to make an effort to watch you practice

and he helps when your studying your lines

he's a pretty good actor, and you always try to convince him to audition, but he never does

you think it's cause hes stage shy but he won't ever admit that

plus if he was IN the play, how would he get to watch you?? his attention span isn't all that good

he would probably end up just staring at you and forgetting his lines

its just safer and less embarrassing for everyone if he stays off the stage

#mike wheeler imagine #mike wheeler #mike wheeler x reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things x reader #eddie munson

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