#Duke tells him to dress better

[starlooove]

Punk Duke is so

[luxaofhesperides]

Soulmark AU + Sleeping Beauty ; requested by @candeartist422!

For the last few years, Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die.

It sounds cruel to say it that way. But the waiting is more painful, he thinks, than just mourning a lost love. It’s not like most people ever meet their soulmates anyways; his parents weren’t meant to be, but they still loved each other and had a life together. He wishes he could turn his focus away from his soulmate, but Duke is a romantic at heart and has always wanted to find the other half of his soul.

But since he was fourteen, his soulmark has dulled, fading in and out of color. What was once a vibrant blue crystal star, with eight points and a swirl of watercolor hues around it, dimmed more and more until Duke was sure he was watching his soulmate die slowly. 

His soulmate didn’t die then. Whoever they are got better, his soulmark gaining color, but it never went back to the way it was. For years after, Duke would check at the beginning and end of each day, keeping track of when it faded and when it regained its color. 

He thought his soulmate was sick. In and out of hospitals, fighting to stay alive.

And then it went nearly colorless. 

Duke doesn’t remember much about that day. He knows he woke up, brushed his teeth, the lifted up his shirt to check his soulmark in the mirror. The blue was almost completely gone, the star on his left hipbone nearly gray with how colorless it was. He started at it for a moment, shocked, and reality slid away from him as he retreated into the safety of his mind, fully dissociating. 

Bruce had found him when Duke didn’t show up for breakfast. He held him and offered quiet words of comfort that Duke couldn’t understand, but just having someone with him lessened the hurt of losing his soulmate. 

Seeing the color come back the next day, faint as it was, hurt even more.

A year later, Duke still can’t break the habit of checking his soulmark twice a day. It hasn’t changed at all, still faint and dim, but carrying just enough color to show that his soulmate was still alive. At the very least, they were still breathing, but his chance of ever meeting them is basically zero. Still, he can’t help but hope, wishing that he could meet them even once before they die and leave him forever. 

“Same as ever,” he murmurs to himself as he brushes his thumb against his soulmark. He’s terrified that he’s forgotten how beautiful the blue of it was when his soulmate was healthy. 

Duke doesn’t let himself think on it too much anymore. Though his thoughts often turn to his soulmate during quiet moments like these, the busy nature of Gotham is usually more than enough to pull his attention back to the here and now. There’s no use in obsessing over his soulmate anyways; they’re just going to die, sooner or later, and Duke knows he’ll never get to meet them. They’ll just be another empty space in his life, right next to his parents. 

“Come on, Thomas, focus,” he tells himself firmly, then gets dressed and heads down to the kitchen for breakfast.

The manor is quiet. It usually is in the mornings, with everyone from the night shift dead asleep and trying to get as much rest as they can before they have to start their day. Not that many of them stay in the manor these days; Duke and Damian are the only permanent residents at the moment, but Steph usually stays half with her mom and half in the manor during the summers when she’s home from college, and the others drop in whenever they feel like it. 

Bruce lives more in the Batcave than the manor, so he doesn’t really count. It’s also why Duke is surprised to see Bruce awake and dressed like a normal person, drinking coffee in the kitchen as if this is a normal occurrence. 

“Morning,” Duke offers.

“Good morning, Duke,” Bruce replies. “Sleep well?”

“Well enough. Alfred out or something?”

“He may have kicked me out of the Batcave to clean it up a bit,” Bruce answers tiredly. “Want me to make breakfast?”

Duke has heard the horror stories of Bruce’s attempts to make edible food in a kitchen. In the interest of not dealing with food poisoning, Duke shakes his head quickly and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I was kinda wanting to eat out for breakfast. Get out there as me, and not a mask, you know?”

“Mind if I join you? Alfred may forgive me for not sleeping if I willingly go outside.”

Duke laughs. “Sure man, as long as you pay.”

“I’ll drive, too.”

“What, don’t trust me behind a wheel?”

Bruce gives him a tired look, eyes dead and dull. “I have taught all my children how to drive. The day I willingly let them take the wheel when I am not actively dying is the day I’ve been replaced by a robot clone of myself who doesn’t know better yet.”

“That is… very specific. Is that a thing you usually worry about?”

“I’m Batman. I have to worry about everything.”

Yeah, that tracks. Duke wouldn’t be surprised if he has at least five contingency plans for that scenario, should it ever happen. “Well,” he says, “Right now, all you need to worry about is having your wallet and driving us down to The Foodie Nook. I’ve been craving their breakfast plates for ages.”

Bruce doesn’t object to his choice of restaurant and follows Duke down to the garage, grabbing a random set of keys and pointing it out to the many cars he owns. One near the front blinks its lights as it unlocks and Duke cheerfully tosses himself into the passenger seat as Bruce opens the garage door. 

The drive into Gotham is smooth. They don’t hit traffic until they reach the bridge that leads into the city proper, taking them away from the quiet of Bristol. The morning is busy, but not enough that Duke worries about being out as the Signal to help keep the peace. It’s a normal type of busy, one borne from people going about their lives, feeling safe enough to go out. 

The Foodie Nook is entirely local and very popular, so the parking lot is nearly full. But they expanded their space last year, which means he and Bruce don’t have to sit outside while they wait to grab a table. Bruce keeps conversation light and casual, well aware of the many listening ears around them, and it’s nice, feeling normal for once. 

Well, as normal as life can be with Bruce Wayne™. The server who comes to lead them to a table realizes who she’s talking to after she gets a proper look at them while holding open the door and promptly stutters over her words. 

“No need for any special treatment,” Bruce laughs lightly, “We’re just here for breakfast. Nothing special.”

“Of course,” she replies, cheeks red. “Um, right this way! We’ve got a table by the windows for you. Just two, yeah?”

“Yup! Just two. Thought this was a good day to spend some time with Duke. He’s a great kid, you know, I’m glad I was given the opportunity to foster him.”

The sunny, cheerful Bruce Wayne persona is so different from the usual Bruce he works with that it feels like he’s standing next to a stranger. But his words are sincere and warm his heart, filling up the gaps that his soulmate has left. 

“Here you are!” their server announces, showing them to their table. “I’ll be right back with some menus.” She’s gone in a rush, and other customers glance over before quickly averting their gaze. 

It’s one of the unspoken rules of Gotham: give the Waynes their privacy while they’re out in public. Questions and conversation are for public events only, but if they see a Wayne out and about during a normal day, everyone leaves them be unless spoken to first. Duke used to follow those rules as well when he was just another Gothamite. It’s strange being on the other side of that now that he’s in with the Waynes.

Duke barely has to look through the menu when it’s handed to him. The breakfast plates are his favorites and he gets one every single time he comes to The Foodie Nook; stacked full with breakfast foods from around the world. As a kid, he loved the Mexico Plate, but these days he’s craving either the Brazilian Plate or the Vietnamese Plate.  

He can’t decide on which one and thinks about tossing a coin to decide, but seeing how that’s Two Face’s whole thing, he decides to hold off and settle the matter with eenie-meenie-minnie-mo. 

He gets the Vietnamese Plate.

Bruce, on the other hand, reads through the entire menu like it’s a novel, then leans over and says rather loudly, “Duke, what’s a tort-illa.” 

The pain he feels hearing that is only worsened by the amusement in Bruce’s eyes. He’s doing it on purpose, playing up the Brucie act for the public so he can psychologically torment Duke. A few nearby customers choke back laughter, turning away to hide their smiles. 

Duke shakes his head and says, “Don’t worry about it. It’s just food. Don’t ask any more questions, I just want a peaceful breakfast.”

“Well then,” Bruce replies, “I suppose I know what to order now.”

As if she was summoned, their server reappears before them, cheeks still looking a little flushed. “Hi! Ready to order?”

She writes down their orders quickly, valiantly keeping a straight face at Bruce’s mispronunciation of tortilla, then heads off to deliver their orders to the kitchen. 

Rather than draw out a conversation with Brucie Wayne, Duke settles for playing a few idle games on his phone; his current favorite is one quiet cat cafe game where he directs cats into fulfilling cafe orders. 

Bruce, despite being out in his civilian identity, is working. He’s on his Batman phone, which looks the same as his other cell phones except this one has a bat symbol sticker just barely hiding a Superman sticker on the phone case. His brow is slightly furrowed as he reads whatever file he’s accessing from the Batcomputer. It’s a little worrying but it could be anything. Bruce makes the same expression when he reads one of Tim’s snarky comments getting quoted in the news.

But that’s not Duke’s problem! He’s here to enjoy his breakfast and it will take the end of the world itself to remove him from his seat before he’s done eating.

The game takes most of his attention until their food comes out, and by then Bruce has tucked away the smallest of his Batman mannerisms. They enjoy a normal, peaceful breakfast. Bruce ends it by asking their server if she has any debt that’s weighing her down, then giving her a tip that’s at least five thousand dollars above that. 

She does cry and Bruce hugs her. It’s very sweet. 

As soon as they get back into the car, his easy going smile drops and Duke knows some superhero nonsense is about to take over his day. 

“Duke,” Bruce starts, seriously, “I received a message from Zatanna.”

“Don’t drag this out,” Duke says, “Just give it to me straight. What terrible thing is about to happen to us?”

“It’s nothing too big. They just recently defeated a magical being who had been tearing apart secret government facilities in Illinois. He had both magic and a high tech weapon, which they confiscated and are delivering to me. The government agency he was fighting was suspiciously interested in the weapon, and based on their behaviors and newly revealed work, Zatanna made the decision to turn the weapon over to us so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Bruce smoothly merges into traffic as he speaks, getting them onto the road back to the manor. There’s a look in his eyes that means he’s keeping a lot unsaid, and Duke knows without a doubt that whatever this government agency was doing is bad if Zatanna needs Batman to act as extra security. 

He’s not sure about her decision to trust the weapon to be safe in Gotham, either. Sure, Batman will keep it as safe as he can, but with their luck, it’ll end up in the hands of a Rogue and lead to a lot of death and destruction. 

As soon as they cross the bridge and return to Bristol, Bruce steps on the gas and the car tears down the road. Without any other cars to worry about (or traffic laws), it takes barely two minutes to reach the manor, when the gates open for them and let them into the garage. 

Alfred waits for them by the door, looking them over with a critical eye. “I see you have managed to go outside, Master Bruce. What’s the special occasion?”

“Just breakfast,” Bruce answers. “I’m heading back down to the Batcave. Zatanna will be here soon to deliver a weapon.” He’s gone before Alfred can say anything more, hurrying down the hall and turning the corner, disappearing from sight as he heads towards his office. 

“I see we have yet to break that bad habit of his. Did you enjoy your morning out, Master Duke?”

“Sure did, Alfred. I’m, uh, also going down to the Batcave. He’s definitely not telling me a lot about what’s going on, so I’m just going to read about it over his shoulder. I’ll be back up for lunch, though!”

“And perhaps you’ll be able to drag Master Bruce away from that cave of his,” Alfred comments wryly as he walks with Duke towards the office. He gives Duke a nod, then splits away from him, returning to the kitchen where Duke can hear Damian speaking to someone, probably Tim by the annoyed tone of his voice, and mentally wishes Alfred luck in handling them.

Duke sets the correct time on the clock in Bruce’s office and heads down to the Batcave, taking the steps two at a time. 

Bruce is already at the Batcomputer, shoulders tensed, when he arrives. 

“More bad news?” he asks as he makes his way over.

Bruce doesn’t bother looking away from the screen as he says, “More details about the fight. It seems the magical being called himself a ghost and was going on a rampage due to a betrayal. He says they nearly killed his son.”

“Oh, yikes.”

“And two of the scientists working with the government agency said that he stole their son and is keeping them from saving him.”

“Yikes,” Duke says with more feeling.

He doesn’t get to hear anymore details about JLD’s fight with this ghost when he catches a flicker in the corner of his eye. Duke turns and stares at the empty space in the Batcave near the medbay and watches as colorful magic gathers and swirls in dizzing circles. The portal opens a moment later and Zatanna steps out, looking exhausted and lightly singed. 

“Batman,” she greets, holding a white gun that looks like it belongs in an early sci-fi movie from the 60s. “The GIW is trying to arrest us. Constantine keeps burning their badges and documents so it shouldn’t be a problem, but they are determined to get this back. I wouldn’t be surprised if they came after you next. They’ve got some way of tracking things, but I didn’t have time to get any details before I had to leave.”

Bruce takes the gun from her hands carefully, looking it over with a sharp gaze. “Why would a ghost want to use a gun?”

“I don’t know. He had a variety of powers, too.”

“What does this do?”

“Shoots ice. He never let it go and nearly burned me alive for taking it before we subdued him.”

“We’ll keep it locked up,” Bruce promises. 

Zatanna sighs. It looks as though a physical weight fell off her shoulders. “Thanks. I’m going to head back to stop Constantine from getting into a fistfight with the GIW agents.”

She opens another portal with a waved hand and a muttered spell. Bruce is already walking away to set the gun down on a work station, so Duke is the one to wave Zatanna goodbye. 

By the time he reaches Bruce’s side, the gun is already dismantled, all pieces neatly set aside. Sticky notes denote which pieces go together and in what order. It looks the same as most guns, save for the aesthetic, but the heart of it is a glowing blue orb, large enough to cover the entirety of Bruce’s palm, and it brings a chill to the air.

Duke stares at it and feels his soulmark burn ice cold.

“Duke?”

It’s in his hands. He doesn’t remember reaching out to take it, but it’s in his hands. He can’t take his eyes off of it, cradling it gently and bringing it closer to his chest. 

It’s the same blue his soulmark once was. Before his soulmate began to fade, before every day became a waiting game to see how long his soulmate will last before they die. 

This has something to do with his soulmate. He’s sure of it. 

He won’t let anyone take it from him. 

“Duke. Give that to me.”

He doesn’t feel like he’s in his body. He’s detached, floating somewhere outside his body, puppeteering his limbs, making them move without feeling the motion. Shadows condense around his feet and Bruce takes a step back, wary. 

“Duke,” he says again, but Duke can’t find any words, can’t draw on his voice, can’t even look away from the bright, bright blue of the orb. It pulses lightly in his hand like a heartbeat. 

Bruce reaches a hand out. 

He’s pulled back by shadows before he can get close, and Duke holds the orb against his chest, right against his heart, and feels the cold seep into him. 

“Duke. I need you to look at me.” This time, Bruce’s voice has Batman’s growl in it, a heavy command that he can’t help but instinctively follow. He looks up and meets Bruce’s eyes, but he can’t focus. All his awareness is in his hands and the heartbeat of the glowing orb.

“I have to protect this,” Duke manages to whisper. “I… I think it’s alive.”

“Okay. Let’s get you to the medbay so you can sit down. We’ll figure this out, Duke.”

Bruce slowly, carefully, sets his hand on Duke’s shoulder. He keeps his attention away from the orb, so Duke allows it and lets Bruce guide him to the medbay and onto one of the medical cots. Bruce leaves him after a minute of quiet fussing, muttering about calling Zatanna.

Whatever. None of that matters when the heartbeat of the orb grows stronger, steadier, and Duke feels it match the beat of his own heart.

Time slips away from him. Distantly, he hears people move around the cave, speaking in low tones. A hand presses against his shoulder, warm, then moves away. 

The orb in his hand moves. 

Duke blinks slowly, then claws his way back to awareness, pushing past the haze that’s fallen over his mind. The orb turns over in his hand, then cracks right down the middle. The glow grows stronger, washing the medbay in blue light and a symbol appears on the orb.

It’s his soulmark. 

Later, he won’t be able to say why he did it. There were no thoughts, no reasonings, no explanations. Duke simply moved on instinct and lifted the orb up to his face and pressed a soft kiss against it. 

One moment, the orb was still.

The next, it had burst in a flash of light that blinded everyone in the Batcave, and then a thin, injured teenager had fallen into Duke’s lap. 

Hands immediately grab him, pulling him away from Duke. The teenager puts up no fight, eyes barely open, but he reaches for Duke weakly. On his wrist is the bright blue snowflake, the color strong and vivid. 

“That’s me soulmate,” Duke whispers as he watches Bruce and Tim set the boy down on another medical cot. 

“What?” Tim says, turning to face Duke, concern clear on his face. 

“That’s my soulmate,” he repeats, louder. Then, panicked, he pulls up his shirt enough to see his own soulmark; the color is still dull, weak, barely there, but it’s more blue that it has been in a while. He doesn’t need to say anything. Tim sees the dullness of his soulmark, looks at the boy, and puts the pieces together on his own.

“I’ll call Doc Thompkins,” he says, already moving to fix everything. Bruce remains where he is, making sure the boy is tucked in and breathing steadily before he returns to Duke. 

“Are you alright?”

Duke swallows roughly, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy. He’s pale and thin, as if he’d been starved, and there’s frost beginning to spread on the bedsheet from his fingers. “He’s my soulmate,” Duke manages to say. “He’s been dying for two years.”

Bruce’s eyes a hard, a determined light in them. “We’ll save him,” he promises. 

If anyone can, it’s Batman. 

If anyone can, it’s them, Batman and the Signal, and their entire network of family and friends. 

Duke’s been waiting for his soulmate to die all this time. Now, he’s going to save him.

[wrayah]

wriothesley x fem!reader

prompt: An overworked Writohesley finally accepts to get an assitant to help him around. Work begins to become smoother thanks to you, however you also make things harder for Wriothesley thanks to your innocent seductiveness. A small clothing mishap becomes the perfect moment for Writohesley to solve the throbbing problem in his pants.

notes: HERE IT IS THE (somewhat) SEX CRAZED WRIO I PROMISED YOU ALL !! can you guys tell i'm obsessed with this man ?? now please ask me for other characters i have no idea what to write now ( ;´ - `;)

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut (mdni 🔞), dom!wrio, pet names, penetration, oral, no protection, ejaculation, curse words, handcuffs, overstimulation (kinda?)

Wriothesley wasn't very fond of the idea of hiring an assistant, he could handle his work all by himself, he had been doing it for a while and could keep going that way. He simply couldn't comprehend why Sigewinne was so insistent, why she kept nagging him and telling him he should get help.

"'You really should consider it!" Sigewinne scolded Writohesley from her seat across from him, her tiny hands holding a cup of warm tea. "As the head and only nurse of the Fortress, it is my duty to take care of the people who work here, and that includes you!"

He chuckled at her puffed cheeks, she looked adorable when she was mad, and it was a challenge to take her seriously sometimes. He sipped his tea before looking at her, smiling.

"I'm okay, you don't need to worry. I don't need help-"

"Yes, you do! I can clearly see that you are extremely tired, and I have caught you working way past time lately!" She interrupted him, her tone stern but also caring. She looked at him in the eyes, dead serious. "How long has it been since you got a good night's sleep?"

His eyebags wouldn't let him lie his way out of this one, he couldn't actually remember the last time he went to bed and woke up feeling replenished. He frowned and looked down, having no answer to Sigewinne's question.

She scoffed at his reaction, closing her eyes and sipping her tea. She then placed her cup down, looked back up at him, and smiled. "Now that we've reached an agreement, I'll ask the guards to put up the flyers."

Writohesley sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index. "Fine."

And that's how you got into the Fortress of Meropide as Wriothesley's assistant.

You had been working as the Duke's assistant for a few weeks now, helping him handle paperwork, running errands for him around the fortress, and on the surface, basically helping and doing everything and anything to make things a bit easier for him. It wasn't all that hard, a bit hectic but you actually enjoyed what you were doing.

Your presence had completely changed Wriothesley's routine, he was now able to finish his paperwork in time every day and got to sleep correctly again. Sigewinne had teased him continuously about how he was doing better now thanks to her idea, and he couldn't help but admit that she was right, he did need help.

On top of allowing him to get back on his feet and feel alive again, it was an actual pleasure to have you around. He was reluctant at the idea of an assistant at first, he got to know you however with time and was actually not disappointed. You were a smart and gentle individual, always ready to help and accomplish tasks with a smile on your face, even the tedious ones. Whenever you had free time, you would bring him tea along with some sweets, which he highly appreciated. This imposed a timeout on him, which wasn't actually so bad. He enjoyed chatting with you, whether it was about work or whatever else.

Everything was going well, except for one thing. Everything was great, everything you did was perfect. You were perfect.

Writohesley couldn't keep his eyes off of you at times. Generally, he thought you were beautiful, your smile melted his heart, the way your cheeks reddened whenever you stammered or were unsure softened him, and the way you dressed pleased him, especially when you wore somewhat revealing clothing- shit.

It was hard for him to keep focus on work at times because of you, but forced himself to stay put. He could handle the situation well, but it was challenging at times.

On hotter days, like today, you would wear skirts without tights, leaving your thighs exposed for Writohesley to admire. Your skin looked so soft, and the way they looked when you sat made him want to dig his fingers into them so badly.

He could handle admiring your form, it wasn't the first time he had seen a beautiful woman in his life, he just had to put in a little more effort to stay focused.

He did almost lose his mind at one point though.

He was reading a dossier, holding it with his right hand and toying with his handcuffs with the other, spinning them around. He looked up at you once he was done to give you a new order but he caught you looking intently at his handcuffs, a light blush on your cheeks. Once you noticed his gaze, your eyes darted to his and you lightly cleared your throat, cheeks brightening. Oh, the dirty things that must have been going through your mind.

Ever since then, those same dirty fantasies have invaded Writohesley's mind, making his work, as well as something else, harder. All he could think of was cuffing you up and manhandling you.

He shook his head, bringing himself back to reality. Focus, Wrio, you need to finish this by noon.

"Is everything alright, sir?" You enquired, sitting across from him also handling a report file.

He looked up at you, his eyes locking onto yours. Your gaze was caring, worried, and so sweet.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, could you get me some iced tea, please?" He needed something to soothe him as well as the growing heat in his pants.

"Of course!" You replied, a big smile on your face. You got up immediately and turned to make your way out of his office. You accidentally bumped some files on his desk in the process though, papers falling to the ground before you.

"I'm so, so sorry! I'll-I'll gather everything!" You stammered, bending down to pick up every loose paper and file, unintentionally flashing Writohesley while doing so.

He could see everything, the back of your exposed upper thighs, your beautifully shaped ass, your laced panties-covered crotch. Oh Archons, how could he keep his composure before such a sight?

Wriothesley cleared his throat again, this time to grab your attention. You squeaked, stood up, and spun around quickly, a messy pile of papers in hand. You were expecting to be scolded for your idiocy. You gulped as you looked into his darkening eyes, his face was deadly serious. You were done for.

"Don't think that what you just did is, let's say, inappropriate?" He questioned, a slight smirk emerging. Your terrified expression turned into a confused one, which he chuckled at. You weren't even aware of what you were doing to him, how cute.

"Your skirt is quite short you know, you should have kneeled down instead." Your eyes widened, realising what had just happened. You frowned and looked down, face becoming as red as a tomato. You placed your hands behind you, covering your behind with the papers.

"I-I'm sorry! I-... I didn't intend to give such a view..." You were so embarrassed you were barely able to pronounce the last part. You sighed ashamed. You wanted to dive into the deepest parts of the sea and stay there.

Toying with you was fun. "You know, it's not the first time your clothes have bothered me. To be fair, you sometimes dress quite inappropriately for work." He took out his handcuffs and began playing with them like last time, catching your attention once again. He grinned, canines showing. "Don't you think that, as your boss, I should reprimand you?"

You bit your lip, intrusive thoughts clouding your mind. That didn't go unnoticed, it only made his smirk grow wider.

"Go on, finish cleaning your mess up." He instructed, eyeing the rest of the papers on the floor. You did as told, kneeling down this time.

He got up from his chair as you placed the paper mountain on his desk. You watched carefully as he came up behind you, you didn't dare to turn around though.

"Hands behind your back."

"H-huh?" You turned your head to look at him, his frame hovering over yours, eyeing you down.

He cocked his eyebrow. "Want me to repeat? Hands behind your back." His voice was stern, he was doing his best to hide his lust.

You did as told, and soon enough you felt the cold feeling of metal around your wrists. He had handcuffed you. You choked a little on your breath, not expecting this to happen. Your darkest fantasies were coming to life, but you couldn't let your mind get the best of you, you were already embarrassed enough.

"You see, being naughty like that isn't very nice, you've been making things hard for me lately." He placed your hands on his clothed dick as he spoke, rubbing against them. Your breathing was shaky, and his pants felt so tight against him, that you couldn't help but imagine what he was hiding underneath.

"Since you're to help me, I thought you could also help me with this." He pressed his dick against your hands once more, letting out a shaky grunt. "Will ya?"

You nodded timidly, still not believing what was happening. "Good. Come on now."

He leads you back towards his desk as if he were leading a prisoner. Being treated this way was making you feel hot and bothered, but you loved it. He put his hands on your shoulders and with slight pressure instructed you to kneel down before his chair, which he would sit on soon after. He began undoing his belt, his pants coming soon after, all the while being attentively observed by you. He chuckled as he saw your big eyes look at his shielded cock, mouth agape with impatience. He finally slid his bottoms down a little, revealing his girthy dick to you, tip slightly swollen and shimmering with precum. You bit your lip at the sight, mouth-watering. He was so close, it was so close.

His hand came to caress your cheek tenderly. "Open your mouth for me, baby. Tongue out."

You opened up, tongue sliding out. You looked up at him, waiting for his next command. His hand travelled up to your hair, grabbing a handful lightly, before tugging your head down towards his dick.

As your tongue finally met his throbbing tip, you flicked it against it, tasting him. Salty but tasty. You began licking his tip, tongue swirling around it, pressing against his slit, doing all you can to take in all of that sweet precum. Wriothesley moaned lowly above you, hand caressing your hair now, encouraging you, praising you.

"Come on, don't be shy, take me in." Your mouth wraps around his wet tip, making its way down slowly. He was thick, but there was so much saliva that you were easily able to swallow him whole on the first way down, making him curse under his breath. You began slowly bobbing your head up and down, tongue against the underside of his dick.

"That's good baby, keep going." It felt so good he couldn't help but let his head fall back, breathy moans and curses leaving his lips as he tugged on your hair, instructing you to pick up the pace. You were doing your very best to go fast, but he was so big and your mouth so small that your cheeks began to hurt and so your pace began to falter.

He looked back down at you with glazy eyes, only to be met with lustful eyes looking back up at him, your mouth around his dick, drool dripping down from it. Fuck. The sight made something snap inside of him, it made him feral.

He got up from his chair, standing up before you, making sure your mouth never left his dick. You let out surprised noises around his cock, making him groan from the vibrations. He placed both his hands on your hair, gripping it hard enough to keep your head still and thrust into your mouth. You moaned around him with each thrust, both from pleasure and from slight pain, but mostly from pleasure.

"Look at me, baby." His husky voice sent electric shocks all day down to your core, making your thighs squeeze together. You looked up at him, the mere sight of his expression being almost enough to make you cream.

You look at him, tears in the corners of your eyes, cheeks red, drool all over, was enough to send him over the edge. He buried himself deep within your mouth and, with a loud groan, his cum sprung out onto your throat and into your mouth.

"Fuck." He panted, thrusting slowly to get every single last drop of his cum out before sliding out.

He grinned as he saw your puffed-out cheeks, your mouth filled with cum. He put his hand on your chin, grabbing it gently. "Swallow. All of it."

Your eyes widened at the command yet you swallowed the thick liquid without hesitation, small tears coming up from how weird it felt when it slid down your throat. He grinned and patted your head. "Good girl."

He picked you up from the floor with ease, making you gasp. He placed you down, feet on the floor, facing his desk, your legs against it. Your hands were still bound behind you, and your wrists started to ache a bit. He pressed up against your back, hands grabbing at your hips as he nuzzled your neck, taking in your fragrance. You tilted your head to the side, giving him enough room to pamper your neck with kisses. He licked long slow strips along your veins. You moaned, your core growing warmer with every passing second.

You felt something hard poke your hands, he was still hard. Mustering up some courage, you grabbed his cock with both your hands, it fits perfectly between them. You started pumping it, long slow, and sloppy strokes. He groaned against your neck, biting down hard. You both moaned and groaned, you from his sucking and biting on your neck, him from you pumping his dick.

He suddenly pulled his hips away, freeing his length from your heavenly grip. One of his hands went to your back, pushing your upper body downward against the table. "Stay there."

"Yes, sir." You whispered, body engulfed in pleasure.

He bent down, face in front of your clothed crotch. He pressed his nose against your wet panties. Oh, you smelled intoxicating. He pulled your panties and skirt down, the cold air of the room hitting your hot pussy suddenly, making you shiver.

Writohesley licked his lips as he admired you in all of your glory, folds glistening from how excited you were. He leaned forward, placing both his hands on your thighs, and lay his tongue flat on your pussy, licking slowly up.

"Mh, you taste so fucking good." He groaned against your folds, suckling on your sensitive bud. You were becoming a mess, unable to control the sounds leaving your body as he lapped at your wet pussy. You almost screamed when his teeth grazed your clit.

He suddenly got up, spanking you with one hand as he did. "Quiet down, will ya. Do you want everyone in the Fortress to know you were being bad? Do you want everyone to know that your boss is punishing you?"

You shook your head no frantically, going to bite your lower lip in order to keep quiet, but he placed one of his hands on your mouth all the way from behind. With his other hand, he pumped his length a few times before lining it up to your entrance, his tip getting wet as he pressed against you. He pushed inside you, not letting a single second go to waste. He needed you. Your moan was muffled by his strong hand, eyes rolling back. He was filling you up so well, touching your cervix with his tip with the first push. His other hand was on the handcuffs, holding them tight to keep you in place. He pulled almost all the way out, only leaving his head inside, and then snapped his hips forward, pushing back in violently.

“I’m going to fucking ruin you.” He whispered into your ear. Your little screams were silenced by his hand, he repeated the same movement over and over again, until you could barely hold yourself up, your legs trembling. His low grunts and your muffled sounds filled the room along with the wet obscene sounds your cunt was making with each thrust.

His grip on your mouth and chains suddenly tightened, his pace picking up. He was practically fucking you into his desk right now, each thrust more powerful than the last. You were barely keeping yourself together, drooling into his hand, eyes barely open, cheeks flushed; you were a mess beneath him, and he loved seeing you like this. With each thrust, he stroke all the good spots, making you come undone rapidly. The feeling of your cunt clamping down on him drove him crazy, he wanted more of it, more, more. 

“Look at your tiny cunt, hugging my dick so tightly. Are you coming for me, princess?” You could only moan and groan in response, making him chuckle at your condition. He kept going, his pace never slowing down, milking your pussy of its juices. 

After the second wave of full blown pleasure washed over you, your legs began to wobble, you couldn’t keep yourself up anymore and your knees started to bend. He didn’t let you fall though, he quickly let go of your face and hands and held you up by the hips effortlessly.

“We aren’t done yet babygirl.” The side of your face rested on the desk, your mouth agape, raspy, breathy moans leaving your mouth. Your throat was dry from all the screaming, you surely wouldn’t be able to talk properly afterwards. He pounded into you rapidly, his rhythm becoming sloppier with each passing moment, he was getting close too. For someone who had instructed you to be quiet, he sure was being loud now, but neither of you cared. 

“So good, so fucking good for me.” He groaned, leaning forward, placing his forehead on your shoulder. His rapid breathing on your back sent shivers down your spine. You felt another orgasm building up, and you knew Wriothesley was close too. 

“Wrio- I’m going to…” You could barely speak, every word you uttered being followed by loud gasps.

“I know, baby, I know. Just wait a little.” He hushed you, gripping your hips with so much strength his knuckles were turning white. After a few more pushes, he was losing it, groaning loudly on your shoulder. “Come for me, y/n. Come!”

You moaned loudly, your third climax hitting you like a truck. Your walls clenched his member, that was the last straw for him. He bit down on your shoulder, moaning as he did so. His cock pushed deep inside you and stopped there. His cum came spurting out into you, the warm and thick liquid filling you up, some even dripping out of you and onto the floor. 

After a short while, his teeth finally let go of your flesh and he pulled out slowly, more cum dripping onto the floor as he did so. You opened your eyes as best as you could and looked back hazeley only to find a flushed and panting Wriothesley trying to catch his breath, still holding you up.

He then picked you up and sat you down on the desk, taking a set on his chair afterwards. You both sighed of relief, finally relaxing a bit after that experience.

He looked at you and smiled kindly, then looked at the mark on your shoulder and his smile turned upside down. “Sorry about that.”

You put your hand on your shoulder, massaging it to soothe the stinging pain. “It’s okay, it isn’t too bad.” Your smile made his worries die out. 

You started to feel a bit chilly, after all your bottoms were still on the floor. Before moving to dress yourself, a question came to your mind. You looked him in the eyes. “So, should I stop dressing the way I do from now on?”

Writohesley smirks, his head resting on his fist. “I won’t forbid you from dressing the way you want, but you must assume the consequences that will come with it.” 

At first, you blush, knowing well what he was referring to, but then you return the smile, answering with a confident tone. 

“Oh don’t worry, I will.”

© wrayah, 2024

[dcxdpdabbles]

I have this idea for a post but I feel like you would do it justice.

Basically, Danny is yeeted through a dimensional portal and reincarnated as the clone son of Tim and Connor(from when Tim cloned Connor during his death). This little shit wakes up after that, when Connor has already been found, as a six year old gremlin with a need for chaos.

Que pranks!

I don’t have much more than that so I will leave this in your capable hands.

-🎃

"Master Bruce, if I have to remind you to fix your tie one more time, Gotham will be without its protecter for many months to come!" Alfred snapped - actually snapped - from where he was attempting to reorganize the entirey of the Emberald Sitting room.

Right now, he moved all the furniture and all the wall directions. He was just adding some tastefully done flower pots to make the place look inviting but also regal.

It had been six hours, and from the looks of it, Alfred had not found the balance he desperately wanted. He started over four times. His patience was all but gone.

Bruce's hands snap to his tie, scrambling to get it set just right. He moves it only slightly to the left - not making much difference - with a nervous smile. Alfred's teeth snap shut with a click, and his eyes blaze with frustrated rage as he rounds the coffee table toward the billionaire.

Bruce looks to be holding back a scream.

Dick winces, sinking into his chair lest the aged Butler turns his ire onto him. He knows why this evening has to be just right. Especially to Alfred, but gosh, he could not handle how terrifying the butler could be.

It's just for one dinner and one evening. Dick tells himself. Once Alfred can finally say he married one of us off, things will return to normal.

"Honestly! If you didn't walk around looking like an unkeept vagabond all the time, maybe there would be a Lady of the House by now!" Alfred sneered at a pale-looking Bruce.

Or maybe Timmy bringing Kon over to announce their engagement means Alfred will try to marry the rest of us off harder. Dick despairs as Bruce endures another tongue-lashing. He wants to go help, but if he moves even an inch from his seat, Alfred might realize Dick is still in the room.

He can't afford to anger the beast any further.

"And you, Master Dick!" Alfred suddenly rounds on Dick, pointing one long finger into his face, with narrowed eyes and the grim reaper at his shoulder. Oh, dear.

Thankfully, that's when the doorbell rings. At once, Alfred's face clears into an excited smile. "They're here! I'll let them in right away; you lads, gather the rest of the family. And remember, we must make a great impression! Tonight is the night we invite Mister Kon into the family!"

The butler doesn't quite skip out of the room, but the bristle walking with a chipper head turning is the close that Dick has ever seen him do.

"I'm so happy for Tim." Bruce mutters,"but I can not handle any more reminders that I haven't had a spouse."

"Tell me about it," Dick sighs, following after his father into the hallway and down to the dining hall. He can distantly hear Alfred opening the door and greeting the two. "A hour ago, he made seven passive agressive reminders that Tamaraneans propse with a dinner and a mock battle. Seven. I mean, how does he even know what Tamaraneans do when courting?"

"It's Alfred." Bruce tells him, taking a seat at the head of the table. Dick sits in the chair to his right as the oldest and First Heir- considering the reply. It makes sense.

Damian, Cass, and Duke walk in, not even a moment later. All are dressed better than any gala Bruce could have dragged them off, too. He is rather impressed that Damian is a red suit that makes even Bruce pale in comparison. Then again, he is the only one besides Alfred who has an eye for such things.

"Has he already proposed, or is he doing it at dinner table and were all supposed to act supirse?" Duke asks while sitting down. "I want to know what kind of face I should have prepared"

"The clone has asked Father for his blessing in his courtship with Timothy. He knew we would have figured out his plans when that blunder. It is no surprise." Damian huffs. Dick knows he's just upset that his big brother is going to get married and move out soon. He's adorable when he's territorial.

"I can confirm that Kon hasn't asked yet." Steph announces, strutting into the room in all her purple gown glory. Behind her, the Row sbilings wander in with matching celtic blue suits, making Dick grin. It's always nice to see people appreciate the best color. "Tim isn't the type of person to not show off his ring whenever he has a chance."

"I've always wanted to see a real-life popersoal!" Jarro gasps, flying into the room with his own little suit on. It's a nice black with green undertones just like Bruce's.

He lands in the miniature chair with a dinner dining set Alfred had special ordered for him.

It sits on top of where a regular dining set usually is, always the second chair on Bruce's left, because he is literally the favorite. Bruce denies it, but they all see the tender smile he throws the floating star.

The Wayne kids know. Jarro is too precious and hilarious, so none of them mind that he's the favorite. In fact, Dick has half the mind that he's the favorite of the majority of the family.

Jason leans over to pat Jarro's head, grinning when the little starfish swears. He adores when the kid randomly curses out of Aldred's hearing range.

"Shh, they're coming!" Cullen says from where he was lingering by the door, hoping to see Tim and Kon. He always looked up to the older boys as someone who had been forced into the closet for his own protection.

Seeing people like him helped ease the fear, and Dick feels his smile wideing when Cullen scrambles back to his seat. He's so excited he's practically in the Speed Force.

Alfred opens the door first, stepping to the side to allow the guest to enter first. Dick feels himself sit up straighter, the moment really setting in, Kon is going to propose to his younger brother.

His little Timmy is growing up-

"Wow, this place is big!" A child says, running into the room. Who the heck is he? "It's amazing, Dad!"

"Slow down. You don't want to fall." Tim laughs, rubbing the stranger's hair with a soft smile.

"It's okay, Dad. I'm strong!" The boy flexes his tiny arms. Tim laughs again as Kon crouches down to the little boy's height.

"Woah! Look at all those musceles. You're going to help me protect your dad, son?"

"Yeah Pa, I'll be the strongest super or robin ever!"

"Tim? Who might this lovely chum be?" Bruce cuts in, voice slightly strained. No one calls him out on it since they are staring wide eye at the tiny little boy who looks like an exact copy of Tim at age five.

Dick knows because he was one of the few in the Wayne's who saw Tim at that age. He's practically a clone to oh no.

Dick thinks he's having a heart attack.

Tim looks up at them before a brillient glowing smile breaks across his face. "Everyone, Kon and I have an announcement to make!"

Kon wraps an arm around his waist, sending adoring looks to man in his arms before they both hold up their left hand.

There are twin silver bands on both of their fingers. "We got married in Las Vegas, and we have a son! I like you all to meet Danny Drake-Kent! I made him when I thought Kon was dead."

"I am Danny, clone of Kon-el and Tim Drake. Fear me if you dare!" His voice squeaks. Squeaks.

Scratch that, Dick knows he's having a heart attack.

You can hear a pin drop in the silence his announcement cause, as Danny puffs up his chest and floats a few inches off the grown.

Oh, great heavens, Dick is an uncle.

"A fellow clone, son!" Jarro cheers from his little table. He slams two of his star points on the table to a beat that he speaks to. "One of us. One of us."

Danny's blue eyes land on the star fish and widen. He raises both arms into the air chanting back. "One of us. One of us. One of us!"

"It's awesome is what it is!" Steph cries, jumping up from her seat. "Hi, Danny! I'm you, Auntie Steph! I'm the cool one."

"Isn't this lovely? Master Tim not only has a husband but a child as well. Unlike some Masters." Aldred doesn't quite glare at Bruce, but he doesn't have to. The Waynes know who he means as Bruce wince.

Danny pauses in his chanting to look her up and down, staring pointily at her plum colored dress before humming. "That's a bold statement for an eggplant."

Steph gapes at him as Tim roars with laughter.

Oh, Dick is going to love this kid. He leaves his seat, trying to get to his nephew as the rest of the family attempts to do the same. Damain makes alarming threats to Kon, letting him know he would easily take him out if he detects a hint of mistreatment to his brother and new nephew.

The Waynes act like they can't hear the threat because they all have their own versions of the shovel talk prepared. They just have to get the clone alone.

It's a nice dinner.

[zegrasdrysdale]

I know you’ve been getting Ethan Edwards smuts recently but I just thought of one today and thought I’d share it with you! Riding Ethan because he’s too hurt to be on top!

Hoping you could write this for me!! Thank you!!

[ saddle up ] e. edwards

paring : Ethan Edwards x fem!reader

summary : a bored and injured Ethan finds his girl’s cowgirl hat from Halloween after a few months and is wearing it when she comes to the hockey house after class hoping she gets the hint

warning(s) : smut ! dirty talk, use of pet names during sex, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), injured!ethan (but he’s also horny lol)

author’s note : pls send all the ethan smut requests bc i am a whore for this man and i will pretty much write anything i get abt him lmaoo. enjoy anon <33

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The moment she walks into the hockey house after a full day of classes and lectures, something’s off. The house is usually buzzing with hockey players by the time four rolls around and she comes walking into the house.

This time, the house is empty. Luca isn’t sitting in the living room playing some kind of game with Adam, the Duke boys aren’t yelling at each other in the kitchen, no stray hockey player is doing his homework or playing with Luca if Adam has a game.

It’s too quiet.

“Ethan?” she calls out. “Are you here?”

There’s no way they’d leave Ethan alone with his injured shoulder. He still needs help with a few basic things and can’t put a lot of weight on his shoulder yet. That’s why she’s practically been living with four hockey players since she and Ethan came back from summer break.

As she walks up the stairs, a soft “here” comes from down the hallway. She pushes the door to Ethan’s room open and peeks her head inside.

Ethan is lying in bed so she feels a little better, but he’s wearing an unbuttoned checkered flannel and a pair of jeans. Her sparkly black cowgirl hat from Halloween is on his head. She covers her smile with her hand and has to stifle a laugh.

“What the hell are you wearing?” she asks, voice muffled by her hands. The laughter is evident in her voice. “What is happening?”

He smiles and slowly manuvers himself so he’s sitting up against the headboard behind him. “I got bored and was pacing around my room and I found your hat while I was doing that,” he tells her. “Dressed the part. I was hoping you’d do me a favor though.”

She kicks the door shut behind her and drops her bag on the floor next to it. “Yeah? What’s that?”

“Save a horse, ride a hockey player?” Ethan tells her. It’s more of a question than a comment. “Well, a hockey player dressed as a cowboy. Anyway, please?”

Even injured and ordered by the doctor to rest, Ethan is thinking about sex. Possibly explains why the house is so empty. “Did you kick everyone out or something?” she asks. “It’s Wednesday. The house is usually filled to the brim with hockey players by now.”

“Coach Naurato called an emergency practice at Yost,” he explains. “There’s a team meeting I have to go to at seven but until then, I have the house all to myself.” He pats his lap with the hand that’s attached to his healthy shoulder. “So, saddle up.”

The laugh that she’s been surpressing bubbles from her throat. She loses it for a second, but she kicks off her sneakers anyway. “You are insufferable, Ethan Edwards,” she laughs. “Hot, but insufferable.”

Ethan shoots her another smile. “Yeah, but you still love me anyway,” he comments as she carefully crawls onto his lap. “Plus, it’s been a while since you’ve been fucked so I knew you couldn’t turn this down.”

She rolls her eyes and plays with the button on Ethan’s jeans. “I wanted to be careful because of your shoulder, E,” she tells him. “But yeah I’m losing my mind a little bit because it’s been a while.”

“Knew it,” Ethan laughs.

“You better be nice to me,” she reminds him as she pops his jeans open by undoing the button. “I’ll make sure this goes excruciatingly slow for you if you’re not nice to me.”

He throws his hands in the air in surrender. “Alright,” he says. “No need for threats.”

She smiles and kneels between his knees so she can get his pants off. She wiggles the jeans off of his legs and throws them on the floor. She can clearly see the bulge that’s formed in his boxers. With a light touch, she traces the bulge and Ethan presses his lips in a line.

Her fingers trail up over his abs and toned chest until she grazes his stubbled jaw. She carefully leans over him so she doesn’t accidentally put pressure on his shoulder.

Their eyes meet and Ethan smiles. “Hi, baby,” he says.

“Hi, handsome,” she giggles. “You sit there and rest like the doctor you to. I’ll take care of you.”

Ethan nods and she surges forward to capture his lips in a needy kiss. She cups his jaw and moves herself so she straddles one of his thighs. One of Ethan’s hands slides up the back of her shirt that she borrowed stole from him.

It’s very much been a while since they’ve properly had sex. It was before Ethan’s surgery, which was nearly seven months ago. Even then it was sporadic because he was playing through an injury and she didn’t want to hurt him even more. It’s been consistently hands, fingers, and mouths since about five months ago.

They’re great, especially when it’s Ethan’s fingers or tongue that make her come. Nothing will compare to being filled by Ethan’s dick though.

Yeah, she’s missed proper sex. Just a little bit. Or a lot.

She reaches down between them to pull her Ethan’s shirt over her head. The kiss breaks but Ethan leans up a bit and presses kisses to her collarbone. The hat he is wearing is knocked off his head and falls onto the pillows behind him. She grabs it and puts it on her own head.

He looks up at her and pulls back. “Saving a horse, riding a hockey player,” she comments. “Plus, it’s my hat.”

“It looks better on you anyway,” he replies. She tilts her hat in his direction and Ethan laughs.

His fingers slide to her back and unclasp the bra she had on. It falls between them and Ethan tosses it to the floor. He kisses her collarbones and chest. His lips trail down to her boobs. He’s always loved her tits and has always given them extra attention. Now is no different.

She leans her head back and sighs as Ethan cups one breast while he takes the other in his mouth. He switches after a moment. Her fingers are in his hair and she leaves the occasional kiss to his temple. “Ethan,” she sighs into his hair.

“Let me give my pretty girl some love first,” he mumbles against her skin. She smiles into his locks. “Then you’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

It feels like an eternity later when Ethan finally pulls back and looks up at her with the most innocent look on his face. Her chest is covered in red marks that only the two of them will ever see since it’s not bathing suit season. She shakes her head with a laugh before she leans in and captures his lips in a soft kiss.

Ethan begins to push at the waist and of the leggings she has on. “Come on, baby,” he whines into the kiss. “Off. Want you to ride me, pretty girl.”

His words shoot straight to her core and she hums. She loves when he talks to her like this and calls her ‘pretty girl’.

She has to break the kiss so she can get her pants off for him. She pushes the leggings, along with her already wet panties, down to her knees. She kicks them off from there. Ethan bites his bottom lip when she crawls onto his lap, completely naked.

Very carefully, she pushes the flannel that he’s wearing off his body. He sits up so she can get it off his arms without bumping his shoulder. The shirt joins the rest of their clothes on the ground.

Just to be a tease, she rolls her hips against Ethan’s. He groans and both his hands fly to her waist. “Keep doing that and we’re gonna have a problem,” he tells her. With a smile, she pulls his boxers off of him. His dick springs free of it’s confines as she throws the fabric to the floor with a soft thud.

She takes him in one hand and reaches over to his table to grab a condom out of the drawer. He intercepts her hand and she raises her eyebrows at him. “As long as it’s okay with you, I don’t want to use one,” he comments. “I just want to feel you.”

“You are so lucky that I started taking the pill,” she tells him with a laugh. “I’d be saying absolutely not if I didn’t.”

“Thank God for birth control,” Ethan replies. She smiles and leans in to kiss him again. One of his hands comes up to cup her face. She moves herself so she straddles his waist.

After a few extra pumps, she lines Ethan’s dick up with her entrance. She slowly sinks down on his cock with a sigh against his lips. His hands are on her waist to help her stay balanced. She feels the familiar stretch as she lowers herself onto his dick.

Once he’s completely inside of her, she gives herself a second since it’s been a while. Then she slowly moves her hips, still trying to be careful of Ethan’s shoulder.

Soft pants pass her lips into the messy kiss. The quicker her movements are, the heavier the pants. She has to break the kiss and rests her forehead against Ethan’s so she can breathe.

One of his hands comes up and cups her jaw. His thumb runs over her swollen lips and her hair has formed a curtain around their faces. She continues to move at a steady pace.

“Fuck,” she pants. “Missed this, E. Missed you.”

“Never left, baby,” he tells her. “Missed this too though.”

She smiles and kisses him again. Her hands rest on his torso as she quickens her pace.

The kiss doesn’t last long. The tip of his cock grazes her favorite spot and she groans. She sits back and is able to move at a slower but more comfortable pace and speed.

Ethan’s fingers trail from her jaw, down between her tits and over her stomach until he reaches her clit. She falters in her pace for a second but quickly recovers as she gets used to his fingers on her clit. “Don’t stop, E,” she pants as the knot in her stomach forms. “Shit.”

“I have you, pretty girl,” Ethan tells her. His own voice is shaky. “Look so pretty riding my cock, baby.”

She bites her bottom lip as her legs begin to shake on either side of his waist. Her orgasm is imminent but she isn’t ready for this to be over so quickly.

Her hands slide from his torso to his chest. Ethan’s able to lean his head up a bit and press soft kisses to her wrist. He grabs her hand with his free hand and kisses the back of it before he trails kisses down her arm. He gently pulls her so she leans over him again.

She lightly wraps her arms around his neck and quickens her pace one more time. “Fuck, E,” she gasps as the knot threatens to come undone. “Don’t want this to be over.”

“Come on my cock, sweet girl,” he tells her. “We’ll do this as many times as you want. Just wanna see you come on my cock, baby.”

His words mixed with his fingers on her clit and dick inside her are too much and she comes the next time she lowers herself onto him.

She loudly cries out his name as she reaches her high. Ethan cups her face in his hands so she doesn’t fall but she also grabs onto the headboard just in case. She loses her vision for two seconds and sees stars.

Ethan isn’t far behind her. With his healthy arm, he lifts her up and comes on her stomach and thighs. She heavily pants with a smile on her face as Ethan sinks back against the headboard after his own orgasm. He has a lazy smile on his own lips.

She leans in and they share a handful of lazy kisses as they both come down from their highs and get feeling back in their bodies.

As soon as she feels like she can stand, she gets off of Ethan and grabs the shirt she stole from him to wipe herself off. She finishes the job once she pees and wets a cloth.

When she comes back into the room, Ethan has the hat back on and is laying under the covers from the waist down. She laughs and shakes her head as she crawls under the covers with him.

She presses soft kisses to the scar on his shoulder. “I love you,” she mumbles. “The hat’s gotta go though. I’m down to do that again without the hat.”

Ethan tosses the hat somewhere in the room. “I love you,” he tells her. “I have an alarm set so you can sleep if you want.”

With a soft hum in agreement, her tired body gives in to sleep as she curls up around her boyfriend.

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

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[alisonwritesimagines]

Birthweek ~BatFam Imagine~

Summary: It's your birthweek and your family celebrates it with you.

Author’s Note: In honor my birthday that has passed, here is a little imagine!

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: fluff, mentions of smut in the end

Do not repost this anywhere!

Growing up, you had a birthday. Then after you began to date Bruce, you got a birthday weekend. Then when you and Bruce adopted your children, you got a birthweek.

Since you had adopted so many kids, they each wanted to do something special for you. So to be able to celebrate your birthday with almost each of them, they declared that the week of your birthday was to be celebrated with you.

"Happy birthweek my love," Bruce says, waking you up with kisses.

"Mmm. Thank you."

"Today is not my day thought unfortunately. Dick and Jason have the day with you," Bruce tells you.

"What about Martha?" You asked.

"The rest of us got her. You just enjoy the day with your first two sons," Bruce tells you. You smiled softly before kissing your husband.

You got dressed before heading downstairs where Jason and Dick were getting the table set up for you.

"Happy birthday mom," Dick says as he walked over to you. He kissed your head before going back to the kitchen.

"Happy birthday ma," Jason said, following Dick's actions.

"I thought you two were banned from the kitchen," you tell them.

"First surprise! Jason and I have been taking cooking lessons for you," Dick tells you.

"Really? Awe."

"Made you pancakes and some scramble eggs and bacon," Dick tells you.

"Where's Alfred?" You asked.

"We told him to take it easy till we go," Dick explained.

"And what plans do you boys have for me today?" You asked.

"Oh you're going to love it," Jason tells you.

The boys had taken you to a rage room. And to their shock, you had broken almost everything to tiny pieces. You walked out of the room with them with a smile.

"I just feel so much better. "

"I didn't know you had so much anger in you mom," Jason says.

"I'm married to Bruce Wayne. I have a lot of anger in me," you tell them.

"Guess we know where to take you every once in a while now," Dick said.

"I'd like that. Where should we go for lunch?" You asked.

"Anywhere you want! Out treat."

The next day, Duke, Tim, and Damien took you to a museum. You liked learning about history and living in one of the original 13 colonies, you enjoyed the museum with your three boys.

"I love learning about history. It's so fascinating," you tell your sons as you looked at some dinosaur bones.

"Me too," Tim said.

"Are you sure you're okay with this? We can always do something else," Duke tells you.

"Oh don't be silly. I want to do this. Dick and Jason took me to a rage room the other day. I'd like to do something calming," you tell them.

"Ummi, let's go look over here," Damien said as he lead you over to another room.

After the museum, you four had dinner at a rooftop restaurant.

"We saw this during patrol once and thought you'd like to eat here," Damien tells you.

"This is really nice. You boys have good taste," you tell him.

"Is Bruce planning on doing something big for you?" Duke asked me.

"I'm not sure. He's keeping his present a surprise," you tell him.

"Well, you deserve everything you want for your birthday," Tim tells you.

"Thank you boys."

"We also got you some presents," Damien said as he handed you a neatly wrapped present.

The following day, you, Stephanie, Cassandra, and Barbara had a spa day as well as a shopping day. Dick had dropped off Martha to you after your spa so you can take her shopping.

"It's nice to have a day with just us girls," you tell them.

"Happy birthday mom," Cassandra said as she hugged you.

"Thank you. I'm just glad I can hang out with my girls," you say as you held out a dress for Martha.

"Who gets you for tomorrow?" Stephanie asked you.

"Alfred and I are going to have lunch with Clark's parents tomorrow," you tell her.

You had grown close with Clark's parents as they didn't have powers like you and they knew what it was like to have someone they love as a superhero. On the plus side, they were kind and were always there for you. They even checked up on you when you were pregnant with Martha.

"That sounds fun."

"Yeah. We're taking the jet over to see them," you mention.

"Well, let's get you guys a cute outfit then," Stephanie says.

Alfred and you headed to the Kent farm where Clark's parents were happy to see you three.

"Happy birthday Y/n," Martha greeted.

"Thank you!"

"Oh let me see Martha," she says as she let out a small laugh. You handed your daughter over as the two Marthas smiled at each other.

"It's been a while since we had a baby running around here," Jonathan says as he cooed at the baby.

"Well, luckily we got one right here," you smiled.

"I think I remember hearing that you have a birthweek?" Martha asked you.

"The kids wanted to celebrate my birthday with me each so Bruce came up with the idea of celebrating a whole week so I can spend a day with a couple of kids leading up to my birthday," you tell her.

"That's nice. What does Bruce have planned for you?"

"I'm not sure. He always manages to surprise me," you say.

"Do you know Alfred?" Jonathan asked him.

"Yes. I know she will love it," Alfred answered.

"If you need a babysitter, we'd be glad to babysit," Martha tells you.

"I will keep that in mind," you laughed.

Finally it was Bruce's time to shine. You had woken up to see that you were on the Wayne private plane.

"Where are we going?" You asked.

"Well, I know you told me that you have been wanting to go back to Europe. So I thought, why don't we go back now? We got Martha a passport and the kids' passports are updated so I got the plan ready as well as the kids and we are on our way right now," Bruce tells you.

"Really?!"

"Yes. So no Batman duties for a whole week. Just us, the kids, and your birthday," Bruce tells you.

You gave him a quick kiss before relaxing with your children on the plane.

You had landed in France and went to the hotel first. The girls got you dressed in a beautiful gown before Bruce came in, dressed in a tux, ready to take you on a romantic dinner.

"You look beautiful," Bruce says in awe. You smile at him before holding his hand.

"I'm guessing a dinner date for just the two of us?" You asked.

"The kids have other plans so it will just be the two of us," Bruce tells you.

"What a shame," you joked.

The restaurant Bruce picked out was perfect. You had some good food and wine before Bruce took you on a stroll near the Eiffel Tower.

"There's one more present I'd like to give you," Bruce tells you.

"What is it?" You asked.

Bruce pulled out a medium sized box that had the most gorgeous necklace.

"I want to give you the world. You're my wife and the mother of my children. I want you to know how much I love you," Bruce tells you.

"You know actions speak louder than words," you remind him.

"That's why, I want to tell you that, every Friday night, I am all yours. No Batman duties. Just you and our children," Bruce says.

"Thank you," you say. You leaned up and kissed Bruce before pulling away. "I love you."

"And I love you," Bruce says with a soft smile.

"We have a separate room from the rest right?" You asked.

"Yes."

"And is Martha sleeping with one of the kids tonight?" You asked.

"She can. Why?"

"Well, it's been five months since Martha's been born and I sure have missed our time alone together in the bedroom," you tell Bruce. Bruce smiled down at you before giving you another kiss.

"Whatever the birthday girl wants, the birthday girl gets," Bruce said before holding your hand and leading you back to the hotel.

[snickerdoodie]

“Sugar and Spice”

Summary: Everyone knew Jake Seresin was a charismatic player. Whether it was flirting with girls at the bar or charming his way out of any situation. But what happens when the blond pilot finally meets his match?

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x f!reader

A/N: hey guys..I’m not even gonna lie I completely forgot to post this lmao, I got a liiittle busy with everything and it completely went over my head. But here it is! Finally! After two months. This also isn’t proof read, per usual, so sorry if anything sounds off. Enjoy!

Jake’s chatting along with Rooster and the gang when the door suddenly chimes open, taking a quick glance as any human would, but what he sees isn’t what he’s expecting. In comes you, dressed up in a simple white tank top and probably the shorted daisy dukes he’s ever seen, not that he’s complaining though . His eyes rake over your body before he travels further upward, smirking to himself when you accidentally make eye contact. Giving him a nod and a classic small smile, you make your way over to the bar, soon getting into a quick conversation with Penny.

“Well I’ll be damn,” He says into his beer, taking a long sip before wiping his lips with a grin. That causes Rooster to quirk a brow at the unexpected comment.

“What’s up with you? Find a new pair of tits to ogle at?” He quips, noticing Hangman’s intense stare across the room. Seresin shrugs, a smirk still plastered on his handsome face.

“‘Could say that. Could also say I might have just found myself my girl tonight.” And with that, Hangman scoots himself out of the booth he was sitting in and makes his way across the room, gaze dead set on you sitting at the bar, drink in hand. He ignores the unwanted calls and shouts narrowed to him from his friends, too caught up in his next words. Taking a seat on the empty stool next to yours, leering on your exposed skin before continuing.

“Hey there, what’s a pretty thing like you doin�� here sittin’ by yourself?” You turn your head to the sound of the voice, not even hearing him come up beside you. At first, you do a once over at the man, taking in his striking green eyes and Hollywood smile. Then you take notice in his uniform, his sunglasses perched on the fold of his shirt. Must be one of those pilots you keep hearing about. Turning your upper half to him, you smile.

“Doesn’t seem like I’m sitting alone now, does it?” You quip back, setting your drink down on the countertop. The man’s smirk grows wider as he rests an elbow on the wood.

“Aw, no need to thank me, just doin’ what’s needed of me.” You just now realize his country accent, standing out in certain phrases; it makes you fight back a blush. You raise a brow nonetheless.

“Is that so? Did you magically think I wanted you here, Blondie?” You know he wasn’t expecting the nick name when his brows raise for a split second before shooting back down to their original places.

“Eh, I don’t need’a think, I just know by heart. Y’know, with my magical powers ‘n all.” He imitates quotations at the end of his sentence. You huff out a laugh at his words, eyes cascading down to your watered down drink. Taking a sip, you focus your attention back onto the man in front of you. That stupid grin still plastered on his lips.

“Well can your magical powers tell you the name of the lady you decided to make your next target?” It came out a bit harsher than you intended, almost regretting your words. Truth is, you *were* enjoying his company and that southern drawl of his. He honestly was making your night a bit better than just sitting there alone, drowning in your drinks and mind while some overplayed Toby Keith song played on the jukebox.

“I’m afraid that’s somethin’ I can’t do. Care to help me out here?” Relieved he didn’t say anything about your earlier statement, you bite your lip with a smile, nodding.

“(Y/N),” you state, almost missing the way his eyes light up more at your declaration. “What about you, G.I. Joe? Got a name to the face?”

“As a matter of fact I do, gorgeous. Most people call me Hangman but I’ll make a special case and let you call me yours.” He winks with that cheshire grin. You fight back both a blush and a large smile this time at the cringy and overused line.

“Is that so?”

“I’d sure so hope so, ma’am.”

You both stay silent as you stare at each other. While you bite the inside of your cheek, he scoots himself closer to you, knees brushing against each other. You can smell his sandalwood cologne and the beer he’d been drinking previously before coming up to you. Hangman notices your lack of response and licks his lips, eyes flickering from your glass to your hair then to your lips before continuing.

“Tell ya what, sweetheart” he starts, catching your attention, “You name the game. If I win, you’re buying me dinner. But if you by some miracle manage to beat me, you won’t have to endure my charming company ever again.” He finishes, looking very confident in his proposition. You tilt your head and fully face your body towards him, your legs scooting between his as he widens his stance to make room. You swear you could have seen his adam’s apple bob harshly at the movement but you payed no mind.

You narrow your eyes slightly before a small smile stretches across your lips. With the confidence that this man passed on, you carefully lean forward so your palms are resting against his firm thighs. Bracing yourself as you lean in closer. Hangman bites his lip before tilting his head down, his chest heaving in a breath before he speaks,

“You gonna take up on that offer, darlin’?” He drawls out, voice raspy, almost sultry. You look him in the eyes as you lightly squeeze his skin, his smirk growing.

“Y’know what? I will, s’not like I’ve got anything to lose now is there, cowboy?”

I also tried to make my format for my fics a little more..interesting looking. I felt like they’re too boring so tell me your thoughts. Feel free to comment if you liked or disliked something! :)

[firelilyfox]

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: se&ual harassment (assault) / cursing / angst / blood

Words: 2k

Summary: Paul & you were childhood friends but suddenly he distanced from you. On a night full of celebration you get into trouble & Paul protects you … but what happened two years ago?

______________________

Caladan looked even more beautiful at night. 

You are watching the peaceful waves collapsing under the balcony you are standing on. Behind the whole castle is celebrating another victory against the Harkonnen. A soft breeze lets the fabric of your dress flow in the wind and you take a deep breath of the salty air. 

It wasn’t your wish to be here tonight, but your father insisted that you would watch him getting honored for his work for Duke Leto. And you did. But when the duke’s son joined the celebration, you had to get out of there as soon as possible. 

You and Paul Atreides had a very … complicated past. 

As long as you could remember you had a crush on him and he knew it all along. When the two of you were younger, you would play everyday and make mischief all around the castle. But suddenly you barley saw him once a week and Paul acted kinda cold around you. Once you wanted to talk to him about his weird behavior, he just laughed at you and made fun of you for having a crush on him. Everybody around could hear him laughing and began to pity you for being so naive. 

The daughter of a soldier would never be good enough for a future Duke. 

You never spoke to Paul again. This was two years ago, but every time you see him at big events, your heart tightens and you become overwhelmed with sadness and anger. How could he do something like that to you? Even if he never had felt the same for you as you did for him … friends don’t hurt each other like that. 

„What are you doing out here?“, a voice asked behind you. When you turned around you saw a man standing there, looking at you with a drunk smile. It was a friend of your father. A soldier, just like him. 

„Just catching some fresh air“, you said. 

The man comes closer to you, stumbling over his own feet. His wrinkly face showed many scars from battle in the past. „It is dangerous … for a young Lady … out here.“ 

He leans towards you, but you duck away from him. „Uh.. thanks for the heads up. I will go inside … where its safer.“ 

As you turn your back again, you can hear him mumbling something about find me later, but you don’t want to keep listening to this creepy guy.  

Quickly your feet carrying you inside the great hall, where most of the people are dancing and drinking. You couldn’t see your father anywhere because you are shorter than most of the men and women here. So you decide to get on one of the stone benches to get a better view from up there. 

„These things are meant to sit on, you know?“ 

Green eyes. A crooked grin. Freckles. 

„What do you know, Atreides? Shouldn’t your royal ass be sitting on a throne or something?“

Paul chuckles. „Sassy as always. Some things never change, hm?“ 

You rolled your eyes and went back to keep on looking for your father, so you could finally leave this goddamn party. That’s when Paul joined you on the bench. 

„What are we looking for?“, he asked amused. 

You’re frowning at him. „WE are not looking for anything. I am looking for my father. And YOU should leave me alone, Atreides.“ 

Paul looks confused. „Have you forgotten my first name? It’s Paul, you know?“ He smiled again and you catch yourself almost smiling at his dumb joke. But you manage to pull yourself together before that happens. It almost felt like when you were kids. 

„Fuck off, Paul.“ You jump from the bench and trying to make a way through the crowd of drunk, dancing people. Paul follows you. 

„You tell your future Duke to fuck off? Hah! You are as brave as I remember“, he says laughing. Before you could respond anything, Paul grabs your wrist and turns you around. His other hand holding your waist and you find yourself pressed against him. The high difference forces you to look up at him. 

„What are you doing?“, you stutter. 

A smirk appears on his face, as if he know how much impact his presence has on you. „I’m dancing with you. I mean we are on the dance floor.“ 

For a moment you let yourself enjoy the feeling of being so close to him. The pressure of his hand on your lower back, his chest moving against yours. Your fingers on his bicep. Hands holding each other. This was something you always dreamed about. Your heart begins to pound like crazy. His smile faded and his gaze softened. Now he looks at you like you are the only thing that is existent. Time moves slower. Noise faded. Only you and him. 

Paul leans his forehead against yours, closings his eyes and he takes a deep breath. The moment was intimate and all you wished for at some point … but it felt wrong. 

„What has gotten into you tonight?“ You pushed him away. A hurt expression crossed his face and you almost felt bad. „Two years, Paul. Two years and now this?“ 

Without waiting for a stupid response you took off and managed to find a way through the crowd out in the hallways. Tears filled your eyes, but you are to stubborn to let them run down your face, exposing your hurt feelings. 

Desperate for some privacy you opened a small door and find an empty room with sofas. The perfect hiding spot until you’ll be able to shove down your feelings again. 

„I see. The Lady found me.“ 

A high pinched scream escaped your throat as you were grabbed roughly by the shoulders and got pushed down on one of the sofas. Your head slammed against something hard and you feel warm blood running down your cheek. 

The man from the balcony holds you down with a big smile on his face. His gaze is hidden in shadows but you recognize him. 

„Let me go! My father will behead you with his own hands!“ You scream at him, trying to get away but against his heavy body you have no chance. 

He was not listening and even if he was, he seemed not to care. The man took one hand of your shoulder to grab you by the neck to choke you and the other hand loosened up his pants. 

„No. No please. No“, you beg for him to stop. 

„Not so bratty anymore, hm? I shall teach you a lesson you little slut! I will…“ 

But his words came to stop. Slowly you opened your eyes again, as his grip around your neck got loose again. You could see a knife at his throat, forcing him to stop and not move a muscle. The hand, that was holding the knife belonged to … Paul. 

He was standing behind the man. His eyes dark and full of rage. The knife scratching the skin and making the old man bleed a little bit. 

The old guy shouted in anger. „Whoever dares to interrupt me will be punished!“ 

Paul chuckled dangerously silent and forced the man to turn around to look at him. His eyes widened in shock. „My Lord“, he whispered. „I didn’t know that you own this whore … I mean I …“ 

„If I were you“, Paul interrupted him with a deadly glance. „I would choose my next words very carefully.“ 

Paul lays more pressure on the knife and it’s cutting deeper into his skin. The man began to whimper. Before the damage would be irreversible, Paul pushed him to the ground. 

„I won’t wash my hands in your blood.“ As if he had given a silent sign, two guards came in to drag the man outside. „These guys will handle that.“ 

You look at Pauls back. He was standing there like a true leader. Like the man he became. He was not a child anymore … and neither were you. 

As the door closes again he dropped the knife and turned around to you. Faster than lighting he got down on one knee to met your eyes at the same hight. His hands cupping your face and he wipes your tears away that mixed up with the blood. 

„Does it hurt badly?“, he asked with a soft voice. The contrast to his fearless and deadly side couldn’t be any bigger. 

You shake your head. „No it’s fine.“ 

„He will be beheaded in the morning. You don’t have to worry about seeing him ever again.“ Paul tries to calm you down. His eyes holding your own captured and you weren’t able to look away. 

„Thanks. I mean …“, you shake your head again getting rid of his hands. „I should go now.“ 

You stand up and opening the door. Paul is standing right behind you, pushing the door shut again. His hand were right next to your head but you refuse tu turn around right away. 

„Please let me explain“, he whispered. Paul was so close, that you could feel his breath on your skin. You sigh but still refuse to turn around to look at him. 

„There is nothing to explain. I know everything that I need to know.“ 

„You asked me what has gotten into me tonight.“ 

You stay silent. 

Paul sighted. „My father told me that I don’t have to be married to be the next Duke.“

Confusion brings you to look over your shoulder and met his sad green eyes. The honesty in them lets you turn around. „What does that have to do with me?“ 

He smiled but it looked so sad and broken. „Everything. I … i stayed away from you on purpose, y/n.“ 

„What do you mean?“ 

„The day you told me, that you … you had feelings for me, was the same day my father told me to that I have to marry Princess Irulan in the future. I was so mad at him because I already lost my heart to someone and I … but he said that it had to be this way.“ 

„So you let out your anger about your father out on me?“, you asked angrily. 

Paul shakes his head. „No. I just thought … if you would hate me … then it would be easier for me to stay away from you.“ 

Suddenly all fell right into place. His behavior on that day two years ago made much more sense … he was cold and distant but… 

You punched him on the arm. „That still don’t give you the permission to act like an asshole!“ 

Paul smiled and nodded apologetically. „You are right but I was young and not so smart like I thought I wished to be.“ 

A moment of silence fell over the two of you. Just the eyes spoke louder than a voice could ever manage to do. 

„So … you lost your heart to someone else than your reflection in the mirror?“, you joked. 

„God I missed your sassy mouth so much!“ Paul laughed and it was the first real laughter you heard from him for such a long time. „Yeah i did. Even if my reflection is pretty stunning … nothing compares to the girl that I lost my heart and soul to.“ 

Paul gently laid his hand on your cheek making sure you keep on looking into his eyes before  he kept on talking. „I always loved you, y/n. Of course I did! How could I not love you?“ 

Tears start to fill your eyes again … but this time for a good reason. 

„You are still an asshole for behaving like that, Atreides.“ 

His smile melted your heart away. „Will you forgive me?“ 

You nod. 

Paul slowly leans towards you and when his lips met yours, there where nothing else to say. 

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,177

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, public spanking, some very light fingering, over the knee spanking, paddling with a hairbrush, thigh grinding

A/N: Yes, this is a follow up to my Wriothesley Kinktober spanking fic. Did I have any business at all working on this instead of the next Kinktober prompt? NO 🙈 I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t stop thinking about this reader and Wriothesley, y’all are gonna need to forgive me for my lapse in judgment

⭐

You really had no idea why you were entertaining this. After everything he’d put you through the last time you’d met, Wriothesley certainly didn’t deserve even so much as a polite, cursory letter of correspondence back, let alone the right to actually occupy the same space as you, and yet … here you were, wearing a dress that was nice but not too nice, standing in front of a cafe that was neither overly fancy or overly pedestrian, but something in between. You’d been adamant about picking the venue and, to your surprise, he’d easily conceded that power over to you. Further testing the waters, you’d then put your foot down about getting to choose the time you would meet at and, even more confounding, he’d given in to that demand as well. 

It was all incredibly suspicious of him, to say the very least, and you’d very nearly backed out at the last minute for fear that it was some sort of nefarious trick but the ever growing pile of missives from the Duke of Meropide had stared at you accusingly from the desk in your room until you’d finally rushed out the door just to escape them. That you’d found yourself here, at the exact meeting spot and a few minutes early, was only a coincidence, surely. You didn’t actually want to see him after he’d humiliated and abused you so terribly, but since you were already at the cafe then perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to stick around long enough to hear him out. Or so you tried to tell yourself, anyway. 

There was no denying your anxious nerves though, and you flutteringly smooth your hands over your front to iron out imaginary wrinkles that weren’t actually there. You probably should have worn something a bit more practical. Less dressy. If he got the wrong idea about you (as if he just as likely hadn’t already) and he assumed your goal today was to seduce him rather than talk about program options for inmates at the prison you were going to scream. Just really let him have it. He would have deserved it, honestly, given that less than stellar first time meeting, but the least he could do was - -

“There you are.” 

The voice is accompanied by the familiar press of a heavy palm along your waist, and you jerk back so hard you nearly give yourself whiplash. Wide eyed, you tip your head back, back, back to finally meet Wriothesley’s questioning eyes where they tower high above you. 

“Do not touch me!” You hiss, impulsively slapping his hand off you to make his brows lift in surprise. 

“Sorry I’m late?” He tries, which you would have been rather inclined to give him points for under better circumstances as none of the clocks in the vicinity had chimed the hour yet. It may not have been by much, but he wasn’t running behind despite his willingness to take the hit. 

But better circumstances would not have found you flushing profusely at just the sight of him and trying desperately to conceal it to no avail. And the spark ignited in you at the brief touch of his fingers was another matter entirely, but you make a concerted effort not to think about that as you offer up a prim little sniff. “Your tardiness is of no concern to me, your grace, but even you must know touching women inappropriately is highly frowned upon in Fontaine. I'm sure it must be easy to forget your manners when you spend so much time at the bottom of the ocean … so I’ll do my best to remind you. I trust I won’t have to call for the Gardes today?” 

You can’t quite keep the smug look off your face now, positively riding on the high of public immunity,  but it quickly fades when Wriothesley not only meets your challenging stare head on but he even allows the corner of his mouth to pull in an infuriatingly enigmatic smirk. “Not to worry, miss. I have every intention of behaving myself so long as my lovely companion in her pretty little dress does the same.” 

Giving an angry, impotent jerk when a fresh wave of fluster creeps up your neck to settle along your cheeks, you narrow your eyes up at him in warning. But he just shuffles close enough to truly loom over you now and it’s all you can do to keep your attention locked on his face instead of averting your gaze in a clear sign of defeat. You can’t quite seem to find your voice no matter how hard you attempt to locate it, though. 

Sedately bending down to your level, Wriothesley brings his face close to yours and lowers the tone of his voice when he speaks again. “I take it your last lesson is still fresh enough in your mind that you won’t need a refresher today? We certainly don’t want your nice clothes getting dirtied, do we …?” 

You choke on an incomprehensible flurry of things you wanted to say to him, but the double edged quality of your public immunity quickly makes itself apparent. Sure, he couldn’t — wouldn’t treat you as badly as he had behind the closed doors of his office when there were so many prying eyes all around you here, but that also meant you couldn’t kick up the same kind of fit or risk causing a major scene. You’d thought you were playing this smart by agreeing to meet him only on your terms but it clearly went both ways on this neutral playing field, and you have to make a concerted effort to calm yourself instead of taking the bait. 

“Indeed, your grace.” You relent as mildly toned as you can manage. “I will make every effort to remain cordial.”

“Excellent.” Nodding once, Wriothesley reaches out with a deliberate slowness — like he was dealing with a skittish cat — and your skin prickles defensively in response. But you still allow him to gently take your arm with nothing more than a twitch to show for it and that seems to please him a great deal, given the now amicable tone of his voice. “Let’s find a table and get started then. I’m sure there are a lot of things you want to talk about.” 

That was an understatement of the highest order given how many biting remarks were just at the tip of your tongue, waiting to be unleashed upon him. This was neither the time nor the place for it though, so you let him guide you around the side of the building to a quaint little patio where he proceeds to steer you straight into an unoccupied seat at the most secluded table in the far corner. It surprises you a great deal that he not only takes the time to pull your chair out but even slides it in behind you, and the fact your heart won’t stop hammering at the interior of your ribcage because of it just makes it all the more perplexing. 

Given his previous behavior Wriothesley was in absolutely no position to be acting like some kind of gentleman, and you were even less inclined to fall for it. 

Moving around to the adjacent chair, the duke claims his own seat across from you where he takes a moment to get comfortably situated before looking at you expectantly. “Alright. Where shall we begin?” 

You can’t help the suspicion that flashes across your mind. He was even willing to put the ball in your court like this? What exactly was he up to? 

“Well,” Speaking slowly, warily, you open the worn leather carry case you’d decorously sat on your lap and withdraw a hand-typed sheet of parchment paper. “I thought perhaps we could go over our other options, since you seem so sure my initial proposal won’t work. There should still be other rehabilitation methods available to us if you’ll just hear me out and - -“

His hand abruptly comes up, reaching across the table to accept the paper, and you just stare at those outstretched fingers like they were tightly coiled, hissing vipers. You couldn’t make sense of this. He actually wanted to see it? 

“May I?” Wriothesley prompts when you neither move nor speak, giving those blocky digits a little wriggle to further indicate what he wanted. Blinking owlishly, you mechanically hand the sheet off to him and watch as he reclines back in his chair to look it over. 

This really was just so … strange. His interest in what you’d had to say at your last meeting had been cursory at best and he’d summarily dismissed all the paperwork you’d brought with you after giving it nothing more than a brief glance. But now he seems to be taking his time with it, attentively scanning the page from top to bottom, and he even hums at occasional intervals as if in acknowledgement. If you didn’t know any better you would have almost thought it was an entirely different person sitting across from you now. 

“I see,” He says at length. “Some of these suggestions just aren’t viable with the way Meropide internally functions, but I think a few of them could easily be tweaked for implementation.” 

“… r - really?” 

Lowering the paper, Wriothesley once again fixes you with that largely impassive look that you just can’t quite get a good read on. “Sure. For example, I think there’s merit in giving the inmates an opportunity to develop new or existing skills that could be helpful in a potential reintegration process. It doesn’t force them to do anything or set an expectation, but it still gives them the option.” 

A long beat passes in numb silence and then you find yourself sitting up a little straighter, unable to keep the pleased smile off your face now even though you try very hard to keep it at bay. “Oh. Well. I’m glad you think so.” 

He catches you off guard with an unexpectedly genuine smile, the sapphires in his eyes dimly twinkling with what you think must be mischief. “Don’t get too excited yet. There’s still some ironing out to be done, but you did a good job taking what I said the last time and reframing it to better meet the needs of the inmates. I’m pleased to know our little chat served its purpose.” 

And just like that he’s got you huffing and puffing again, irritably digging into your bag so you wouldn’t have to look at that smug face of his any longer. He was beyond infuriating, easily the most contemptible man you’d ever had the misfortune of meeting, and yet … you just can’t seem to stop smiling. You were undeniably happy that he seemed to be taking you seriously this time and had even praised you for your efforts to revamp the proposal to better suit his liking. Even if he did insist on sneaking in those smarmy jabs every once in a while it couldn’t truly take away from what felt like a victory on your part. 

You spend the next two hours discussing everything with him over a seemingly never ending supply of tea and diminutive finger sandwiches he’d insisted on ordering for the two of you to share even when you’d likewise insisted you weren’t at all peckish. Wriothesley was very strange indeed and you weren’t sure if you would go so far as to call it chivalry, at least not in any polite sense, but he did seem to have a soft spot for his inmates. That warmed you to his presence slightly, helped you relax and find a common ground with him that made you feel much better about potentially working with him in the future. It seemed like as long as both of you stayed focused on the topic of lifestyle enrichment for the prisoners you could get along. 

But of course it was not meant to last, and the first real hiccup you run into is when he insists on paying for your half of the tab. You make a valiant effort not to cause a scene in front of the poor waiter who nervously shifts his eyes between you and the duke, but he doesn’t even have the grace to look at you when he shoots down your insistence that you could pay for yourself. Your temper starts to spike at the dismissive wave of his hand, and you give into the urge to glare at him across the table. 

“My lord, your generosity is appreciated but not needed. I assure you I won’t go bankrupt paying for my drink and the sandwiches I ate.” Not giving him a chance to respond, you jerk your attention up at the young man making a discrete effort to shuffle away from the table. “Please split the bill for us.”

“No, just one tab will do.” Wriothesley cuts in, sending you a slow look of warning that just leaves you bristling even more. “It would be remiss of me to make a young lady pay for the lunch I invited her to. I’m sure our young friend here would agree.” 

The waiter nods his head in agreement when the duke inclines his chin towards him and, much to your sinking dread, he promptly pivots as if to walk away. Impulsively, you lurch half out of your seat to snag his arm and stop him, surprising a yelp out of the poor boy. 

“Hold on a minute! Don’t I have a say in this? If I want to pay for it I should be able to or isn’t that — isn’t it just the same as misogyny or something?” 

The boy looks appropriately horrified. “O - oh?” 

“Miss,” Wriothesley intones sharply, and the edge in his voice immediately sends a violent shudder racing up your spine. It was a bit too similar to the way he’d talked to you back in his office for you to associate it with anything other than getting dragged over his knee and your cheeks burn furiously even as you clutch at the waiter's arm even more tightly. Thrumming with nerves, you turn your head to find him pinning you with a very unamused frown. “I suggest you let him go and sit back down. There’s no reason to make such a fuss over lunch. I’ll pay for it, and that’s the end of it.” 

You share a quick glance with the boy whose expression mirrors your own look of flustered uncertainty. “But - but I can pay for it - -“ 

“Sit down. Now.” 

Quickly doing just that, you neatly fold your hands in your lap with your eyes kept firmly downcast so you could avoid having to look at him. You weren’t even sure if you could meet his gaze at that moment when it felt like you were moments away from vibrating right through the very fabric of time and space if you quaked any harder but … but it was kind of hard not to be affected by it when only three weeks had gone by since the last time you’d gotten on his bad side. Your ass had only just finished recovering from its first encounter with his hand and you didn’t want to experience it again, if you could help it. 

Clearly relieved, the waiter beats a hasty retreat from the table and the two of you sit there in terse silence for a painfully long, drawn out moment in which your heart threatens to slam right out of your chest. Then, at length, Wriothesley finally draws a clipped breath. “I thought you said you were going to behave yourself.” 

You swallow. Hard. “And I thought you were going to respect me as an autonomous person this go around.”

A pregnant pause. “Is that what your problem is? You think I’m, what? Being a controlling chauvinist or something?” 

If your face were to get any hotter you probably could have fried an egg on it. “Is that not exactly how you’ve acted thus far, your grace? Gentlemen in polite society don’t usually treat women like children.” 

“Oh, I’d beg to differ.”

You snap your head up with a viscous look — but the waiter returns, giving you a cautiously wide breadth as he walks over to Wriothesley’s side to present him with the check. Those deep, deep blue eyes steadily regard you for another moment longer before finally dragging away from you to look at the bill. Left with no other choice you just sit there, stewing in your anger while he amicably apologizes to the young man and passes him a handful of mora plus a little extra which he tells him to keep for himself. The harangued lad is nothing but appreciative, and they exchange a few more words of thanks between them while your blood pressure just continues to climb and climb, and climb. 

You couldn’t believe him! To treat you as he had in the privacy of his office was one thing but this was something else entirely! The very last thing you’d wanted was to find yourself indebted to the Duke of Meropide in any capacity, least of all when your understanding with him was already so tentative and fragile. You’d thought you could work with him as long as you kept things professional and limited to the greater goal both of you clearly shared, but evidently that was not meant to be. Even after the horrible way he’d humiliated you the last time you’d still been willing to partner with him for the sake of a greater good and this was how he chose to reward your willingness to put aside the disrespect you’d already suffered at his hands once before? 

Why did he not understand how consistently infantilizing and insensitive his treatment towards you was? 

Right on the verge of erupting, you wait until he turns to look at you again once the waiter has scurried off with a final, nervous glance in your direction, and you pull yourself up to your full height with a stilted breath. “Thank you for your generous kindness today, your grace. I’m leaving.” 

His brows lift at your sudden proclamation, head tipping back slightly when you find your feet in a quick rush. “You’re serious?” 

“Very much so.” It takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to scream at him as you carelessly stuff your paperwork back inside your bag, barely stopping long enough to secure the latch in place before stomping away from the table. The scrape of his chair against the cobblestone is soon followed by the heavy thump of his boots catching up to you alarmingly fast. You don’t think he’s hurrying after you or anything, his legs are simply much too long for him to need to, but that doesn’t quite stop your skin from crawling with a sudden rush of goosebumps. You had to get away from him. 

Quickly, before he tried another stunt like the last time. 

“I’m not interested in hearing anything further, I’m afraid.” You call back, positively hating the way your voice warbles slightly when you pick up your pace. 

You were on the main road now and almost at a full blown sprint when a heavy hand abruptly snags your arm, pulling you back with a frightened squawk. Eyes wide and just a pinch more fearful than you would have liked, you jerk your attention up to look at him. 

“Just hold your horses,” He murmurs, gentle yet insistent in the way he tugs you around to stand in front of him. “I think I’ve got a pretty good read on you at this point so I understand why you’re acting like this, but I assure you it’s nothing to get so upset about. I didn’t pay for lunch because I don’t think you’re perfectly capable of doing it yourself. I just did it because it was the right thing to do, and I wanted to do it. That’s all.” 

“Why?” You whisper, unable to find the strength to speak any louder than that when you were looking up at him like this. “Why did you feel so inclined even after I told you I didn’t want that? Is it because you’re a big, strong man and I’m just a weak woman you get to push around?” 

An odd look crosses his face, but you have no idea what to make of it. You can never seem to get a good grasp on his body language no matter how closely you study it. “That is not what I think at all, miss. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders but sometimes you really let your emotions get the better of you. And before you say it, no, I don’t mean it like that. If you were a man I’d say the exact same thing. You do realize how carried away you get, don’t you?” 

“Carried away?” You echo him, disbelief coloring your voice. “You - you are positively incorrigible, do you know that? I’m not sure where you get off acting like I don’t have perfectly good reason to be wary of you when you’ve done nothing but torture me with your presence every time we’ve met!” 

“Sorry to disappoint, but that’s not what I get off on.” 

Heat races up your neck to settle in your face, making you choke and sputter indignantly until you finally manage to find your voice again. “I think I have a pretty good idea what you like, and you should be ashamed of yourself!” You snap with an accompanying tug on your captured arm. “Let me go. I’ve had more than my fill of you for one day.” 

“No, I don’t think I will.” 

“Wha — unhand me this instant, you damned brute! Don’t make me call for the Gardes. I already told you I would and I wasn’t bluffing!” 

Easily holding you in place when you try to scuttle away, Wriothesley bends to bring his mouth close to your ear and the sudden, hot puff of breath against your skin instantly makes you freeze in place. “Unless you want me to give you a good swat right here in the middle of the street, I’d suggest you calm down.” 

You absolutely hate the way you shudder fiercely in his grasp, fighting back a whimper at the lingering spectral ache that tingles across your backside. You couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t afford to let him get the upper hand here, not now when you had the safety of public immunity on your side. You still had the advantage in this situation, even if it didn’t really feel like it. “You can’t do that … you’ll be arrested.” 

“Is that so?” He drawls, quite clearly unconcerned at the prospect, and you forcibly swallow the nerves threatening to choke you. 

“I’ll file a report …” 

“Perhaps you should.” 

Noising a breathless, frightened little animal sound, you shoot him a deeply frazzled look but his expression remains as impassive as ever. What the hell was he even thinking? “You’re not immune from the law.” You try again, quaking in his hold. “Neither your status nor your … nor your job description will give you impunity. You’ll have to stand before the honorary Iudex and explain yourself to him.” 

“Ah, well. Wouldn’t be the first time.” Ignoring your startled sound of confusion, Wriothesley straightens up again and gives your arm a gentle nudge. “Come. Before I take you home there’s something I need to tend to first.” 

“Wha —“ Reeling, you stumble and almost trip when he shifts into motion, dragging you along for the first few steps until you get your jelly filled legs under control and reluctantly fall in line with him. It’s not like you really had much choice in the matter. “Are you completely out of your mind? There’s no way I’m letting you anywhere near my house! I can take care of myself just fine, your grace!” 

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. But I’m not asking.” 

The noise that comes out of you sounds suspiciously like the whistle of a tea kettle moments before it reaches boiling point. You give your arm a fitful yank as discreetly as you can manage when you realize there are a few people staring over at the two of you with curious, somehow accusatory looks, but he won’t let you go and it quickly becomes apparent that, short of flinging yourself onto the ground like a fussy toddler, you were just going to have to go along with it. He was sorely mistaken if he thought you were going to lead him right to where you lived though, and nothing he said was going to change that. You’d sooner throw yourself into the vast waters of Fontaine without a life preserver before you ever even entertained the notion! 

And that is precisely how you hit the second hiccup of the day. 

Wriothesley guides you by the arm down the road, across a side street, up a short lane and then right into a cramped little alley that stops at a deadend on the far side. Your heart positively flatlines when you see it and you desperately try to dig your heels in to stop the forward motion as he pulls you straight towards it but there’s no stopping him. He’s too big, too strong, and all you can do is choke on a frightened little sound when he steps right up to the wall and then turns, expertly juggling your arm from the iron hold of one hand into the other. The static electricity that shoots through you at the first creeping suspicion of what he planned to do makes your skin prickle with a fresh wave of horror, and you immediately dance up on your toes as if to escape the swing of his palm. 

“Wait, wait, wait! You can’t do this. Not here. We’re in public! If someone sees — no, even if no one sees it isn’t that still a bit much? Don’t you think you’re taking this too far, your grace? I mean, I thought you said this wasn’t what gets you off, right?” You offer up a nervous, borderline hysterical laugh as if to ease some of the tension in the cramped alley. “Besides, didn’t you say you had something to tend to? An errand, isn’t it? You need to do something - something elsewhere, don’t you? If it’s groceries you need to pick up, I’d be happy to accompany you …” 

He silently regards you for a prolonged, incredibly nerve wracking moment before slowly leaning forward and you can’t quite stop the terrified squeak that bursts out of you when he grabs a much too tight, pinching handful of your backside. Blocky fingers dig into soft flesh hard enough to make you hiss and rock up in a blithe attempt to escape it but he just follows you with his hand, giving the meat of your behind a sharp jostle as he turns to press his mouth to your hair. 

“What I need to tend to is this bratty ass of yours. I’m not entirely sure why you act this way yet but we’ll get to the bottom of it soon enough. I’m going to give you some incentive now, and then take you home so I can finish teaching you how to behave and you’re going to stand there and take it like a big girl, aren’t you?” 

You sway unsteadily in his hold, thoughtlessly dropping your bag so you can lift your uncaptured arm to brace a numb hand against the wall. What were you even supposed to say to that? And never mind the fast pumping adrenaline of fear and remembered pain suddenly pumping through your system, why on earth were you starting to feel tingly all over as if … almost as if you were excited?

That couldn’t be, though. It couldn’t. 

There was simply no way he’d unlocked something so perverse and dangerously immoral in you the last time he decided to play this nasty game. You didn’t like it — gods, you barely even liked him! You didn’t, didn't, didn’t, didn’t - - 

“Little miss,” He abruptly intones, snapping you back to reality with a sharp, haggard gasp. “When I ask you a question I expect an answer.” 

“Y - yes, sir.” You blurt, dull surprise washing over you at your own obedience. What was happening to you? 

“That’s better, but what are you telling me ‘yes’ to?” 

You blink owlishly at the wall. Couldn’t seem to tear your gaze away from it, like you were in a trance. “I … I’ll stand here. Like a good girl.”

Drawing a slow, stilted breath, Wriothesley finally lets up on your ass in favor of rubbing over the fleshy swell through the now wrinkled back of your dress. His palm is broad and rough even through his fingerless gloves, and you sensitively shiver at the contact. “You know that means no screaming. No crying. No carrying on like a child, as if you haven’t earned a much needed correction for yourself carrying on the way you have. You wouldn’t want someone to come running just to find you getting your butt spanked, would you?”

“… no, sir.” 

“Good.” His hand abruptly retreats only to come cracking back down with a blinding swat! and you jerk forward at the impact, sputtering on a half realized shriek. “Today we’ll be working on your ability to accept what you're given and show gratitude for it. I want you to thank me this time instead of counting, is that understood?” 

Still wincing at the lingering sting of that first hit, you draw a slow, shuddering breath and lean your forehead against the wall. You couldn’t believe this was really happening again any more than you could believe your willing compliance on the matter. Surely there had to be something very wrong with you to be acting this way.  “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

Swat! 

“Eek! Thank you, sir …” 

“Good girl,” He murmurs, giving your arm a brief tug to pull you closer to his side as he shifts to truly loom over you now. You whimper when you feel his hand cock back, preparing for the next swing, but it doesn’t immediately come. Instead, his mild tone drifts over you again like a warm, prickling mist. “Spread your legs a little bit for me and lean into the wall. Come on. I know it’s hard to do right now but it’ll be much easier on you this way. I’ve got you … that’s it. Just like that. You’re already being so good for me now.” A sudden snort of laughter from him makes you twitch. “I had a feeling this was exactly what you’d need as soon as you walked into my office. Glad to see I was right about that.” 

Screwing your eyes shut against that soft praise, you anxiously shudder and squirm in place when every single nerve ending in your body seems to vibrate with the lingering anticipation of when the next hit would come. What a tortuous feeling. You didn’t like it, you didn’t. 

“Thank you, sir …” 

Swat! 

You groan at not only the burning sting but also the way your ass jiggles from the force of the hit, somehow humiliating you even further and driving the hurt home. It doesn’t take long for you to figure out why he’d wanted you to bend forward. The crease of your sit spot already felt like it was on fire from just that one slap and he hadn’t been able to strike it when you were holding yourself straight and stiff as a board. Now, though, he’s free to pepper the tender area with quick, rapid fire strikes to leave you trembling against the wall, gasping each time his hand makes contact. 

“Ow! Thank you, sir … eek! Ooh - oh! Nnghnn, thank you, sir! Nghn! T - thank you, sir …” 

“Excellent. You’ve really taken to this like a duck to water, haven’t you?” He drawls, still bringing his palm down across your shuddering ass again and again, and again. Completely at ease and frustratingly collected about the whole thing, as if this wasn’t even affecting him at all. “Tell me, little miss. Have you received many spankings before?” 

“N - no, sir … ahhn! Thank you, sir! Yeow! Ow, ow, ow, thank you, sir!” 

Wriothesley hums in consideration, barely heard over the intense pounding in your ears. “That’s interesting. I didn’t think so, of course, but,” Swat! “It’s still of a certain interest to me. You’re surprisingly obedient for someone with so much attitude.” Swat! “You wouldn’t happen to be enjoying this, would you?” 

You go ramrod stiff, eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, but then the next slap comes and you lurch with a wounded grunt. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton now as you ever so slowly turn your head against the wall to look in the opposite direction so he couldn’t see your face. You weren’t exactly sure what kind of expression you were making when you felt so hot and flustered, and jittery, but you were certain you’d wither away to nothing if he looked directly at you right now. 

“O - of course not, don’t be ridiculous! I hate it almost as much as I hate you!” 

Wriothesley barks out a sudden laugh. “Is that so? You know there’s a way to check, don’t you?” 

Stiffening, you go so utterly still you think you’ve forgotten how to breathe. In fact, you’re certain you have, given the way your heart sputters and skips a harrowing series of beats. It makes your lungs constrict painfully tight and, at last, when you start to grow dizzy, you force yourself to draw a thick, suffocating inhale. He couldn’t be serious … 

“What are you talking about?” He couldn't be serious …

“I’m sure I don’t have to explain it to you.” He couldn’t be serious … “Shall I check?” He couldn’t be serious … “But I hope you know if I find out you’re lying you’ll be in even more trouble.” He couldn’t be serious …

He could not be serious! 

His calloused fingers slipping under the back of your dress snap you out of your horrified trance with all the lurching force of a sack of bricks and you gasp — no, you heave so hard it feels like your soul is slipping right out of your throat. You jerk upright so suddenly and so fast you actually stumble and start to collapse in a tangle of noodly legs but the hand gripping your arm just bodily hauls you back up again to shove you flush against the wall. You think you would have screamed at that very moment, damn the consequences, but you can’t quite seem to pull enough oxygen into your lungs to accomplish it. All you can do is blubber hysterically as he pins you flat by pressing into the back of your shoulder, applying enough force to bring you up on your tip toes, while his other hand indelicately bullies its way up between your legs to cup your pussy through the thin layer of your panties. 

You jolt at the contact and go still again, panting excessively for as short as that brief struggle had lasted, and Wriothesley noises a quiet sound before carefully curling his fingers back. The blunt tips of them press into you, stiltedly rubbing over the lips of your cunt with slow, indescribably heavy passes that make you tremble wildly. You can’t quite seem to get a hold on it no matter how hard you try to stop it though, your teeth clenching tight enough to hurt when he twists his hand so he can slip those long digits into the leg hole of your underwear. A flood of tears pricks at your eyes when he finds your slit again and starts to press in, but he doesn’t have to go very far before finding sticky slick waiting for him. 

“I knew it.” He announces without much aplomb or intonation to clue you in on his thoughts. Archons, what an insufferable man. 

“Are you satisfied?” You practically spit, as furious with him as you were with yourself. 

“Quite. And you? Are you satisfied?” His tone drops an octave lower to accompany the slow, teasing glide of his fingers through your cunt, tracing from the back up to the front while pointedly avoiding any real pleasure inducing spots along the way. It makes you quietly seethe and hiss, straining against the hand keeping you against the wall, but it’s no use. He’s got you trapped. 

“What do I possibly have to be satisfied about?” 

“Well, you’ve earned yourself another paddling, for starters.” 

Your entire body seizes at that and, noising an incoherent blubber, you finally twist your head back around to look up at him with big, wet eyes. “W - wait, you don’t mean that - -“ 

“I do. I’m very sincere, in fact. Not only have you lied to me but you even continued to lie after I gave you a chance to make a better decision. You have to know that’s not acceptable, don’t you?” 

Blatant confusion marches across your face and then camps there, drawing your mouth into a warbling frown. Seeing this, Wriothesley allows his own to curl in a small, taunting little smirk that just sets every single alarm bell in your head off all at once. Whatever he was about to say, you weren’t going to like it … 

“You didn’t really think I had no idea, did you? Come on. I had you spread you out over my lap without anything covering this cute pussy of yours. Just because I was mainly focused on your ass, that doesn’t mean I was oblivious to everything else going on at the time.” 

Try as you might, you just couldn’t make any sense of it. “But … but - -“

“But?”

You swallow. Very, very hard. “But … but you — you didn’t say anything?” 

“Was I supposed to?” 

“That’s not what I mean and you know it! I swear, you are absolutely, positively, irredeemably - -“

“Yes, yes, you hate me. I’m sure we’ve already covered that.” Breathing out a stiff sigh, Wriothesley finally relents and withdraws his fingers from your cunt. You can’t quite manage to bite back the whimper that rises in your throat at the loss, but he pays it little mind and instead busies himself with casually gathering up the back of your dress. “If you want the truth of it, I very strongly considered acting on it then too. I thought about it a lot, actually, but then I regretted not doing anything besides rubbing cream on your sore bottom and sending you on your way. Why do you think I mailed off that first letter to you the very next day? And the one after that when you didn’t respond, and the one after that?” 

“You - you were hoping for this to happen?” You squeak, trying in vain to twist away when he hikes your skirt up around your waist and cool air wafts against the hot burn throbbing across your ass. 

Whimpering, you try to reach back with your free hand to yank it back down or at least cover yourself from anyone that might be walking past the open lip of the alley in the seemingly far distance, but you don’t quite make it that far. Suddenly releasing his hold on your shoulder, Wriothesley quickly snakes it around your middle and locks your arm to your side in the process, too fast for you to properly react. A flood of protests erupt from your mouth as he tucks you in tight against him so he can hold you in place just like that no matter how hard you squirm. He then takes his time casually juggling the bulk of your dress into his other hand before reaching back down to grasp your panties which he slowly pulls up on to make the fabric ride up and press into you. Potent, swimming embarrassment makes you feel dizzy with it while he nudges the cotton until the swell of both cheeks slips out from the bottom to leave you vulnerable and exposed. The skin feels hot and splintery against the air, and you grimace when he smooths his palm over it to really rub it in. 

“I wouldn’t say I was hoping for this specific situation to happen,” He drawls in that perpetually unapologetic tone of his. “But I did want to see you again, yes. I’d thought I might try to woo you and make up for how our first meeting went in the process but you’re certainly a stubborn little thing, aren’t you? Not that I’m disappointed, mind you. This suits me just as well too.” 

You waver at that, whimpering softly at the implication. “Is that the only reason, your grace?” 

Pausing, Wriothesley just lets his massive hand rest across your ass for a long moment while you try to blink back the sudden onslaught of tears making your eyes turn misty. At length, he draws a carefully controlled breath. “No. That’s not the only reason. We can talk about it more in depth later but … I really would like a chance to woo you, if you’d be kind enough to let me.” 

You very nearly burst out in hysterical laughter at that. What an absurd thing to say when he had you pinned and immobile against his side, the back of your dress crudely hiked around your waist and your underwear meanly pulled up to expose your red bottom to all of Fontaine. It was ludicrous and insane, and unthinkable, and preposterous, and — and - - 

He didn’t really mean that … did he? 

An abrupt, halfhearted swat to the meat of your ass startles you back to reality with a soft yelp. “Don’t go drifting off on me now, little miss. You still need to show me you know how to give appreciation for the things I give you. I didn’t forget that last one.” 

Your cheeks burn somehow even hotter at that reminder. You had indeed let it slip your mind and you were quite tempted to tell him exactly where he could shove his thanks but you were a bit too caught up in the pitter patter skipping across your chest to truly fight it. His methods were the very definition of crazy but you couldn’t exactly deny that they were working. Damn him. 

Breathing deep to calm yourself, you let it out with a slow, shuddering exhale. “I’m sorry, sir. I won’t forget again.”

Wriothesley presses his mouth to your hair and murmurs a quiet, “good girl” that makes you go cross eyed from how intensely you shake because of it. You feel the shift of his arm but you don’t even have the presence of mind to ask him to wait. 

Swat! Right across the bare strip of your ass. 

“Nnghn! T - thank you, sir!” Swat! “Thank you, sir! Oh - oooh, nnghah! Thank you, sir!” Swat! “Hahhn! Ahh! Thank you, sir … nghn! Thank you, sir …” Swat! 

Wheezing, you hang limply in his ironclad hold now, only having the strength left to jerk at the impact of his hand and twitch from time to time as the prickling heat gradually spreads and strengthens over your defenseless backside. Same as the last time, Wriothesley falls into an easy, steady rhythm that alternates between both cheeks, pausing only long enough for you to speak and then immediately cracking down on the opposite side. It doesn’t take long for your bottom to start throbbing in hot, attention grabbing pulses that make you feel woozy with whatever trance comes over you whenever he strikes you like this. You don’t understand it — aren’t even really sure if you wanted to understand it at this point — but the Duke of Meropide is true to his word, and he maintains his unfaltering hold on you even when your legs slowly turn into limp, shuddering noodles under you. 

Over and over, and over again, he spanks you until the world seems to spin around you at a nauseating pace, but your voice keeps you grounded and present in the moment. You couldn’t escape the blistering sting of his hand in any capacity, not mentally and certainly not physically, so the only thing you can do is simply accept it. Not just the punishing bite of his palm striking the same tender spot repeatedly but him, specifically, too. The greater point of this lesson was not lost on you but you did almost wish it could have been accomplished a different way. Perhaps if you weren’t always so stubborn …

“Ohh! T - thank you, sir!” You seethe, squirming against the mind numbing sting, but the next strike doesn’t come though. So lost under the intoxicating medley of endorphins and adrenaline, you actually start to wonder if you’d actually thanked him out loud or if you’d only done so in your head. Panting raggedly, you swallow down a mouthful of air and then try again. “Thank you, sir …” 

“Don’t worry, I heard you the first time.” He murmurs, the note of humor in his voice inspiring a fresh shudder in your aching body when he gives your hip an approving pat. “You did well, little miss. No screaming, no crying … how’s your bottom feel?” 

Rather cruelly, Wriothesley drags his palm over the throbbing swell of your ass, and you tense up in his hold with a sharp hiss. “It feels wonderful, sir.” 

He actually laughs at that — a real, genuine laugh that leaves you reeling and so surprised you can only blink in wide eyed disbelief as he carefully untangles himself from you so he can get you settled on your feet again. “That’s what I like to hear. You’re never going to lose that sharp tongue, are you?” He looks at you steadily, big hands cradling your hips to give you another moment longer to recover without needing to worry about falling over, and you just look back at him in perplexed silence. 

Slowly bringing your arm up, you wipe at the evidence of tears on your hot face, and maybe just a tiny little bit of snot too. You would be glad for a wet rag when you got home. “I'm afraid not.” 

“Good. I like a girl with sass.” His smile edges into sly mischief territory, pinning you with a clear look of challenge. “I’ll never run out of excuses to keep punishing you so long as you keep that up.” 

Sniffing primly, as if you hadn’t just gotten your ass beat, you offer him a flat, unamused scowl. “Yes, well, I really wish you hadn’t pulled on my underwear like that. So unnecessary.” With a click of your tongue, you start to reach back with every intention of tugging them back down into place, but he reaches out to snag your arm before you can follow through. 

“No, leave it.” 

You sputter indignantly. “I beg your pardon?” 

“I said leave it like that. It’ll give you something to think about on the way home every time your dress brushes against your sore bottom, and keep you in suspense for the second part of your punishment.” 

“… you were serious?” 

“Terribly.” 

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

You could not believe you were doing this. 

You absolutely, positively could not believe you were doing this! 

Stealing a quick, surreptitious glance over your shoulder, you find Wriothesley right where you left him just a second ago. Standing at the foot of the stairs that lead into your small, cramped little flat in the city, one hand holding your leather bag at his side and the other expectantly braced on his hip while he patiently waited for you to get it into gear and unlock the door. A fresh rush of nervous anxiety crashes into you all at once, and you whip back around to fiddle with the key some more. 

Dear archons above, you couldn’t believe you were actually doing this! 

Not only had you blithely accepted your fate and taken him straight to your home like a good, obedient pet, but you’d even been naive enough to find yourself somewhat excited to have him there on the way over. Even the constant throbbing that encompassed your poor bottom was not enough to distract from the eager pitter patter you’d felt in your chest but now that it was really happening and the full weight of the situation was bearing down upon you, you were suddenly consumed by a smothering sense of fear. What exactly was he going to do to you once he got you inside? Was he really planning on spanking you some more? Paddling you? What if he expected you to have sex with him after that brief exchange back in the alley? 

Oh, bless the seven, what kind of horrible mistake had you made? 

“Do you need any help?” He calls behind you, almost startling you enough to make you drop your key. 

“No, no! Everything’s under control! Nothing to be concerned about!” You titter nervously and fumble to get the key inserted into the lock but your shaking hands keep missing and it felt like you were right on the brink of a full blown panic attack. Far be it that you were in any position to actually understand anything about this contemptible man but you were really going to have to make an effort to figure out what exactly it was that came over you every time you crossed paths with him, because now that it was faded to a mere afterthought you were a jittery mess. 

It was almost like … almost like he was drugging you, the effects so calming and soothing that your mind couldnt help but recede to a narrow pinpoint that consisted entirely of Wriothesley, his hands on you and the pain making your body sing. But he’d never had a chance to slip you anything. You’d declined having any tea in his office, and you hadn’t left your drink alone even once back at the cafe. So then what the hell was it? 

He’s suddenly leaning over you, beefy chest brushing against your shoulder, and you jolt so hard you really do drop your key this time. “Eek! What are you doing?” 

Sending you a slow, mild look of questioning, Wriothesley sedately bends down to retrieve it from your feet and then straightens back up to his full, towering height again. “I’m helping you. Relax. You’re going to pop a blood vessel one day, getting yourself so worked up.” 

Ignoring your indignant sputtering, he reaches around you to soundly insert the key into the lock on the first try, giving it a good turn to make the inner mechanism give way. He turns back to you with a vaguely pleased smile and you narrow your eyes at him in warning, holding out your hand to accept the key which he deposits neatly into your palm. You close your fist around it as he gestures you in first and, nose in the air, you huff your way inside with as much dignity as you can muster. 

The sound of his heavy boots thumping after you and the subsequent swing, click and turning lock of the door quickly sobers you though, and you fretfully glance around the main room. You weren’t exactly slovenly but it would have been nice to have some warning that he would be coming over beforehand so you could have cleaned. Your morning coffee cup was still sitting out on the table and - - 

“Nice place.” 

You subtly twitch at the sound of his voice. “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’re used to, your grace.” 

Noising a noncommittal sound, Wriothesley wanders further into the flat, depositing your bag onto the table when he passes by it and then he pauses at the threshold of the small kitchen where he turns to look back at you. “May I?” 

“Knock yourself out.” You murmur, crossing your arms somewhat defensively. He ducks his head in a brief nod and then promptly disappears into the next room where you can hear him walking around what sounds like the whole perimeter. Brow quirked, you curiously trail after him only to find the Duke of Meropide himself inspecting the contents of your icebox. “Are you looking for something?” 

“I wanted to see if you had something that could be used as a substitute salve for your bottom. Cryo slime condensate and some mint should work well enough in a pinch, but …” 

He trails off in thought and you can’t quite help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. “Didn’t come prepared then, I take it?” 

He closes the lid on the icebox and sends you a meaningful look across the room. “Don’t worry, I won’t make the same mistake again.” 

This time you do laugh. “Awfully presumptuous of you to assume there will even be a next time, don’t you think?” 

Wriothesley hums a sound that could mean any number of things or nothing at all, giving the kitchen a final look over before breezing right past you back out into the main room. Bewildered, you quickly trail after him hot on his heel. 

“I mean, just look at the situation! Don’t you think this is all a little odd from my perspective? You said you wanted to woo me but you’ve certainly done a banger job of that so far and more to the point — wait!” 

You scramble forward, hands desperately reaching out to grab him when you realize he’s turning straight into the bathroom, but you’re a fraction of a second too late. Rounding the doorway with your heart lodged in your throat, you come face to face with a scene straight from your worst nightmares. A handful of your brassieres, some plain and cotton, others lacy and ruffled, hanging out to dry over the clawfoot tub, right out in the open. 

And that was to say absolutely nothing of the panties hanging from the dainty drying rack right next to them!

“You fiend! Don’t look!” You scramble to get around him so you can reach up and frantically wrench a handful of your unmentionables loose, clutching them protectively to your chest, but the sound of his laughter gives you pause. You can practically feel steam coming out of your ears as you turn your head to glare daggers at him, knowing he would’ve dropped dead on the spot if only looks could kill. 

“Cute.” Is all he says before turning on his heel and strolling right back out, leaving you standing there in your gaping confusion. 

“What the — hey! Wait a second!” 

Very nearly tripping over your own feet, you lurch after him but this, too, is much too late to stop. You watch him swing your bedroom door open like he owned the place, disappearing inside without a second thought, and you come dashing in behind him just a second later. 

Quickly inserting yourself between him and the rest of the room, you furiously throw your lingerie down on the floor and put your hands on your hips. “Just what do you think you’re doing?” You demand, breathing a little heavier than you would’ve liked. “You’re a guest here, not the damned landlord! You can’t just waltz in here and start showing yourself around! What are you even looking for? I don’t have anything of worth if you’re thinking about trying to rob me!” 

A bemused look settles across his face, sapphire eyes dancing with obvious mirth. “You know better than that.” 

“At this point I’m not so sure anymore, your grace … somehow every time we meet I just find myself caught up in a whirlwind and I can’t make any sense of it. I don’t understand you.” 

The last part is barely more than a whisper but his expression softens again, in as much as it ever does. With a deliberate slowness, like he was dealing with a terribly skittish animal, Wriothesley carefully steps closer and brings his arms up as if to pull you in against him. You twitch, instinctively tensing up, but you grudgingly allow him to gather you up against the firm wall of his body. It reminds you of the last time in his office and your mildly sore behind gives a muted throb at the lingering memory even as you breathe out a terse breath. Slowly, you start to relax against him. He certainly did smell nice … 

“Forgive my poor manners. I did not mean to invade your privacy, little miss.” He tells you softly, matching the quiet intimacy of the bedroom and pulling you further under his damnable spell. “I only wanted to see how you lived so I could better understand you. You’re not the easiest person to get a read on either, you know.” 

You want to prickle defensively at that — know you should — but you can’t quite seem to find the strength to be upset anymore. Hesitantly, you bring your hands up to clutch at his waistcoat with hands that feel incredibly small against him. Dainty, even. “Did you mean it?” 

“Hm?” His burly arms give you a lingering squeeze, one of his hands stiltedly rubbing over your back, and it makes you shudder against him. 

“What you said earlier … about wanting to woo me?” 

“Ah. You’re still thinking about that.” Chuckling quietly, Wriothesley shifts against you and you feel him tip his head back, speaking up at the ceiling now. “I did. I may be a no good scoundrel and a brute, but I wouldn’t tell you something like that if I didn’t mean it. I think you’re a lovely young lady, even if you are a pushy, hardheaded brat half the time. A pretty face and the smarts to match … a cute butt,” His hand slides lower, curling over the swell of your bottom to give it a taunting pinch, making you whimper at the reignited ache in the skin. “And a cute pussy, too. You’re the whole package as far as I can tell. Though, I do suppose we’ve done things a bit out of order, haven’t we?” 

You shake your head, face buried in the lower half of his thick chest. “You are certainly a scoundrel, you’re right about that.” 

Dragging his hand back up, Wriothesley takes your hips and starts to gently nudge you back. “Come, let’s sit.” 

You almost fall for it, so caught up in the hazy shroud that seems to befall you every single time he touches you, but then you abruptly remember what’s behind you. The bed. The one and only chair in the bedroom was in front of the desk, on the opposite wall. Your heart instantly slams into overdrive and you jerk back in his hold with a ragged gasp, hands coming up to shove at him. “No!” 

To your great relief he actually stops at the near hysterical edge in your voice, giving you a funny look even as he cautiously releases his hold on you so he can lift his arms in surrender. “I’m sorry. Just calm down. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” 

You would’ve liked to breathe out a sigh, glad that he was, for whatever reason, taking you seriously now, but you were a bit too jittery with nerves to draw a full breath for that. Instead, you just offer up a tittering laugh and try to wave it off. “Of course nothings wrong. It’s fine. Really. I just don’t want to sit right now, that’s all. Still so many things to do!” 

It feels like your face is on fire as you quickly duck around him to make a beeline for the door so you can get out of here and put some much needed space between the two of you, but Wriothesley stops you with a gentle yet firm hand on your elbow. Whimpering softly, you make a valiant attempt to twist out of his hold but as usual his grip on you is as good as iron and you soon find yourself pulled right back around to face him. 

“That was a rather big reaction for it being nothing. I’m sure I could figure it out for myself in due time, but I’d greatly appreciate you being honest with me now so I don’t make the same mistake again going forward.”

“It’s nothing …” 

Wriothesley outright scoffs at that. “Pardon my language, little miss, but that’s bullshit. I’ve never heard you sound like that before, not even when I took that brush to your behind in my office. If I thought you were simply being dramatic or acting up I wouldn’t humor it but that’s not what’s going on here … is it?”

You don’t immediately answer, not quite sure what to say or how to say it, and at length he draws an infinitely patient breath. 

“I could probably guess,” He says almost thoughtfully, like he already had a sneaking suspicion. “Is it the bed? Are you scared of being in here alone with me?” 

Keeping your eyes downcast and firmly locked on the toes of your shoes, you give a slow nod in response. Archons, was he actually going to make you say it out loud  … 

“I don’t understand why, though. I’ve had plenty of chances to force myself on you if that was what I planned to do.” 

“I’m a virgin.” 

A visible startle dances down his arm. You screw your eyes shut, not quite sure what you expected him to say or do with that information and, for a horribly long beat, he doesn’t seem to know what to do with it either. The long stretch of silence that follows your admittance is static charged and heavy. Cloyingly thick. Suffocating — though that very well could have just been from where your lungs were constricting painfully tight, braced for the pin to drop. You almost wished you were just being dramatic or bratty, and the thought of being stretched out underneath his massive body didn’t scare you quite so much. 

Finally, eventually, Wriothesley looses a slow puff of air. “Thank you for telling me. Although I do wish you’d said something sooner, before I … well, it doesn’t matter, I suppose. All I did was touch you back in that alley, but I hope you realize how risky that could have been.” 

“I’m sorry, sir …” It’s all you can think to say. 

With a mild click of his tongue, he gently tugs you into him again, and this time you can’t stamp down the urge to fling your hands up and cling to him. “There isn’t anything for you to apologize to me for.” He murmurs, comfortingly rubbing across your back while the other hand slides up to cradle the curve of your skull. “Luckily I’m not actually that much of a brute and I’m capable of controlling myself. I won’t deny that I strongly considered sliding my fingers inside you back there but I decided to wait until we got to your place because …” 

He trails off, sounding ever so slightly ruffled, and you shift against him in your surprise. “Because why?” 

“Because I wasn’t sure if you were going to be a screamer or not.” 

Your stomach gives a sudden lurch at the implication and you nuzzle your face deeper into his body, whimpering softly at the way your pussy flutters in unmistakable interest. You were undoubtedly curious, keen even, but … despite its potency that eager gushing excitement wasn’t quite enough to dispel your concerns on the matter. He was just so big, you could only imagine whatever was hiding in his pants must be rather large too. Never mind the fact you’d only just met the guy not that long ago, how were you supposed to rationalize the size difference here? 

You’re still trying to work that out in your cotton stuffed mind when, eventually, Wriothesley gives you a final, reassuring pat and then carefully moves to extricate you from himself. “Alright. Come with me. Let’s talk in the other room then. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want.” 

Unable to stop it, you shoot him a sharp, unamused look but he just gives you that small, secretive smile as he guides you through the door which he reaches back to close behind himself with a soft click of finality. You were loath to admit it but you did feel marginally better having the bed closed off away from the both of you. It seemed less dangerous, somehow. 

“Nothing like that.” He amends, steering you over to the table in the main room where he tugs out a chair and drops himself into it. Much to your squawking surprise, however, he then half lifts, half pulls you on top of him to sit on his thigh and you waver nervously on your perch. You weren’t used to being manhandled in such a way — or any way, for that matter — but he steadies you with a firm hand, taking a moment to make sure you’re situated comfortably before leveling you with an unexpectedly sincere look. “Let’s make a deal. We’ll continue on as we have been, and nothing changes. I’d still like to work with you on your proposals for the inmates, because I think you have a good head on your shoulders and your heart is generally in the right place, even if it is at times a bit misguided. I’d also like to keep seeing you, if you’ll permit it. I won’t force myself on you and we’ll take it at your pace, whatever you’re comfortable with. You just need to be honest with me about these things, and I think we’ll do just fine.” 

Slowly, your gaze starts to wander in thought, but Wriothesley reaches up to take your chin and turn you back to look at him again. 

“I’m serious, little miss. You can still be a brat and talk back to me all you want, and I’ll just keep putting you in your place. I can correct you as many times as you need me to. But you have to be upfront about this. I’m not a mind reader, and I can’t know what you’re feeling unless you tell me. Do you understand?” 

You search his face for a moment, admittedly taken aback by the weight in his gaze. It was … a lot. But Wriothesley, as a person, was also a lot. You couldn’t read him, didn’t understand him, could barely stand to be in the same room as him, so … why then did you suddenly want him to kiss you so badly? Surely it was just that muddied, intoxicating daze that fell over you every time he touched you influencing your judgment, right? 

Right? 

“Yes, your grace. I understand.” 

He relaxes somewhat, some of the tension draining from his broad shoulders as he gives your hip a reassuring squeeze. “Excellent. Are you ready for the rest of your lesson now?” 

Sending him a wary look, you decide to test the waters some. You were always good at that. “What if I tell you I’m not comfortable having you spank me like a child every time the thought strikes your fancy?” 

“Then I’d tell you that’s too bad. I’ve already seen for myself just how quickly you get yourself in order with the right incentive, and I’m also well aware that you secretly like it. More importantly, however, I know you need it. You felt good after the last time, didn’t you?” 

You scoff at that and turn on his lap to affix your gaze to literally anything other than him. “I wouldn’t describe barely being able to sit down on the aquabus just to get back to the city as feeling good. I was miserable for days!” 

“You deserved it.” He teases you, his tone taking on a playful edge as he brings his hand up to capture your chin again. You fight it though, twisting on his thigh and leaning as far back as you can manage without falling right off, but Wriothesley is persistent and he just follows after you, easily brushing off the smack of your hand when you try to slap him away. Finally, he manages to successfully get those long fingers around your jaw and he pulls you close until your nose comes to a stop just a scant few millimeters from his. “Come on, just look at me for a moment. Rather than physically, how did you feel mentally? Refreshed, right? Like you’d been flushed clean and filled back up again. Or maybe it would be more accurate to say like you’d been disassembled and then put back together.” 

“That’s not an inaccurate way to put it …” You relent at last, though not without a fussy huff. “But I still don’t know if I’d call that feeling good, your grace. I don’t … I’m not sure what I felt or why I liked it but —“ Abruptly choking on what you’re saying, you look into the steady blue of his eyes with yours wide and round as deeply felt embarrassment creeps into your face. Why in the world did you say that? “W - will you kiss me, my lord?” 

“Hmm. Do you want a kiss before or after your spanking?” 

“That’s not - -“ 

“I am not so easily distracted, little miss. You would do well to remember that.” Softly, Wriothesley soothes the blunt, calloused pad of his thumb over your cheek, still just looking at you. Still waiting on an answer. “Shall I make the decision for you?” 

Eyes flashing dangerously, you rear back to escape his hold and, surprisingly, he lets you go. Emboldened, you primly find your feet and he lets you do that too. You feel strangely victorious as you half turn away from him, hating the jittery, almost eager excitement that starts to course through you now. How shameful to react in such a way when you knew what was going to happen to you and there would be no escaping it. Had you always been such a masochist? 

“Perhaps I no longer want a kiss from his grace if that is how he’s going to be about it. I’ll accept my punishment but you needn’t worry yourself with silly things like kisses or hugs, or anything of the sort.” 

Snorting a quiet laugh, Wriothesley leans back in the chair with a soft creak. “Alright. Go get me one of your hairbrushes.” You give a little jerk and whip your head around to outright gape at him, but he just pins you with that usual smile. “A sturdy one. Nothing flimsy, or I’ll add twenty more on top of what you’re already getting.” 

You open your mouth to protest, think better of it and slowly press your lips into a thin line instead. Hands clenching into tight fists at your sides, you storm off to the bathroom where you dig around inside the cupboard for a prolonged moment before eventually locating a broad backed wooden brush you no longer used which looked relatively similar to the one he’d had in his office. With your heart in your throat, you take it back to him and he accepts it with a small murmur of thanks. 

“Anything else, your grace?” 

“I’m glad you asked, actually.” He pauses to set the brush aside on the table and then looks at you again. “Take off your panties, please.” 

Your brows shoot up in stark surprise, making him chuckle. 

“Relax. I have no intention of doing anything untoward with you. I just want to see if you’ll willingly take them off and crawl across my lap or if I’ll have to drag you again. It’s hard, isn’t it? Knowing what’s coming but still putting yourself in that position anyway. I wonder how wet you’re getting just thinking about it.” 

“Y - you just said - -“

“I said I wouldn’t do anything untoward. Not that I wouldn’t tease you a little bit.” 

The sly, mischievous twinkle in his eye irritates you a great deal, and you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere as you hesitantly reach under your dress. “You are a terror!” 

“I’m sure your ass will be in agreement with that soon enough.” 

Groaning very softly, you hook your fingers into the waistband of your panties and carefully shimmy them down your legs so you can step out. Wriothesley watches attentively as you straighten up again, anxiously holding the balled up cotton to your chest even as you not so subtly rub your thighs together. You were indeed wet, you were more than a little horrified to realize. But he already knew that from earlier, or so you try to tell yourself, and you hesitate for only a moment when he expectantly holds out a hand to you. Shuffling over, you try very hard to ignore the way your heartbeat threatens to choke you as you carefully reach out to place your palm in his. Wriothesley pulls you even closer until your knee brushes his thigh and he reaches up to gently pluck your wadded up underwear from your slack fingers. He watches your face while he does it but you aren’t sure what he sees looking back at him when you were feeling so many surging emotions all at once, and he just carelessly tosses them on top of the table, not far from the brush. 

“Lay down for me?” 

You give a tight lipped nod but you don’t move. Can’t move. You just stand there for a long, drawn out beat with your hand clasped in his, trying to will your legs to move, but it’s like you’re rooted to the spot. Gradually, your eyes start to widen. Were you paralyzed with fear or … something else? 

Shifting forward in his seat slightly, Wriothesley tips his head to look at your downturned face. “Do you want some help?” 

“No!” You rush to say, jerking your head in a quick shake. “That’s quite alright, your grace. Just, ah …”

“I told you it was hard. Knowing what you’re submitting yourself to can really impact your mental state going into a spanking, which is precisely why I wanted to see how you’d react. Though, if you want my personal opinion,” He draws a brief, stilted breath. “I don’t think you’re quite as strong as you like to believe yourself to be, and I don’t say that disparagingly. There’s nothing wrong with needing help from time to time. If you ask me, I’ll give it to you.” 

Softly, you start to shake. Your first instinct was, of course, to snap at him and put on a brave face, and impulsively throw yourself across his lap just to show him, to spite him. But you were feeling a little too vulnerable after everything that had happened today — and a lot had certainly happened between you and him. You’d reached some sort of tentative understanding though, hadn’t you? Had even admitted to something deeply personal and intimate (a few something’s, if you were being honest) and he’d met you with sincerity and honesty of his own so … 

Maybe it really was okay to be vulnerable with him? 

“I —“ You choke on that one single word and have to swallow before trying again. “I’m scared, your grace. I want to do it but I can’t bring myself to … and I don't know why. It’s silly, isn’t it?” 

Your voice cracks on the last word, something in you shattering when Wriothesley dutifully reaches out to take gentle hold of your hip. The first tears streak down your cheeks as he positions you between the wide spread of his legs so he can gather up the front of your dress while you mewl and swipe at your face. You don’t know what’s suddenly come over you but everything abruptly comes rushing out in a flood that leaves you shuddering in front of him. 

Satisfied that he had enough of the material gathered up to prevent it from getting caught under you now, he brings the other hand up to grab your waist. Under his steady guidance, you find yourself stiffly bending forward to lay across his thigh, vibrating at an ever increasing frequency when he tugs you more firmly into place to nudge your butt into the air. 

“Are you comfortable like that, or would you prefer to lay across both my legs?” 

“This is fine.” You thinly respond and, without any further preamble, Wriothesley flips the back of your dress up. Squeaking softly at the sudden rush of cool air against your already sore bottom, you lift both hands to cover your face with a quiet whimper only to yelp a beat later when he cups the meaty swell of one cheek before doing the same to the other. He gives this one a short, lingering squeeze to make you hiss at the residual pain and then returns to the other side to do the same. 

He takes his time with it, just casually alternating his touch between both sides of your ass, rubbing and caressing the heated skin, offering it occasional pinches to really get the nerves sensitized. The anticipation of waiting is it’s own special brand of torture, and you start to feel well and truly dizzy with it long before he decides to get started. You really couldn’t believe you were doing this entirely of your own volition … not only had you wanted him to do it you’d even let him help you place yourself on the chopping block. What in the world was wrong with you? 

“I’m going to start,” He intones at last, drawing his heavy palm over your ass one final time. “You don’t have to count or thank me for this. We’ll save that for your paddling at the end. For right now I just want you to focus on what it is you’re feeling, is that understood?” 

“Yes, sir …” 

“Good girl.” 

His hand suddenly retreats and — swat! 

You immediately lurch forward with a wounded, faltering sound of agony, tipping straight forward onto your toes in an instinctive attempt to escape that blistering swing. His thick arm tightens around your middle though, giving you enough room to squirm and dance, and writhe, but not nearly enough for you to slip loose. The security that comes in knowing his hold on you is so absolute is surprisingly reassuring though, and you allow yourself to freely feel every single moment of the following few minutes in unrestrained misery. 

Just as every other time he’s spanked you, Wriothesley starts in on your sit spots first and he pays them extra special attention now, alternating back and forth between one and the other at a steady, unfaltering pace. Even trying to curl your legs up does nothing to dissuade him, and you just end up futilely kicking at the air while he continues to rain blow after blow, after blow upon your upturned ass. The insidious nature of him warming you up in the alley first and then letting the sting settle and fester, and recede to a dull ache before starting up again makes itself immediately known and it only becomes increasingly worse as it goes on. It feels like you're being pricked and stabbed by a million tiny needles all at once, and you choke on a half strangled wail when fresh tears soon start to stream down your face. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

Over and over again, until it turns into a constant, painful blur. You’re vaguely aware of snot dribbling from your nose but you don’t quite have the wherewithal to reach up and swipe it away, much too consumed by the fiery burn spreading across your bottom to care very much about that right now. All you could really seem to comprehend in that moment was that it hurt. Bad. And with that sudden, clawing surge of pain came more tears, more sobbing, more hissing grunts that get caught in your raw throat and seem to cling there. It was overwhelming in a way that made your brain struggle just to process it, the ultimate culmination of too much buildup and not enough time to truly understand any of it. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

It’s all you can do just to keep breathing through it. Was he actually hitting you harder this time, or was it something else making you squeal so much? All the livewire tension between you and the Duke of Meropide had finally crested, reached its breaking point after skirting around each other and the ever present looming threat of this all day, and it was — it was somehow both better and worse than the first time. It felt amazing to let your mind slip from the material world to a distant, dreamy place somewhere far, far away but it was also agonizing and teeth rattling in equal measure. Your ass felt like it was melting under the heavy crack of his palm. You hated it. You loved it. You had no damn idea what you were feeling anymore. 

Swat! Swat! Swat! Swat! 

And suddenly … it stops. 

Bonelessly rocking forward at the sudden reprieve, you let out a faltering, wet little gurgle that prompts him to slide his anchoring hand up to rub over your violently shuddering back. You probably would have found it quite reassuring had you not felt like you were going to be sick. 

“How are you holding up, little miss?” 

“I’m fine …” You slur out, still gasping for breath. Wriothesley pauses a moment, seems to think about it, and then shifts under you in the chair. 

“Here, let’s get your legs up as well. The way you jerk so much it’s a wonder you haven’t pulled something yet.” He leans over you to reach down, gathering up your bottom half, and you wordlessly groan in protest as you weakly struggle against his hold. “Hush. I know it hurts but be a good girl for me, okay? There you go … isn’t that better? A little less strain on your middle, right?” 

He pets you, very softly, and you tuck your face down against the side of his thigh with a pitiful tiny sniffle. You couldn’t feel much of anything other than the continuous, throbbing burning that blankets your entire backside, but if he said it was better to lay out across both his legs like this then it probably was. You were just so tired. Exhausted. You barely even had the energy left to cry anymore. 

And that’s when it hits you. What he’d been talking about earlier. It did feel like you’d been flushed clean, every single thought, emotion and memory you’d ever possessed effectively wiped right out of existence and in its place was an empty blank canvas just waiting to be filled up again. For the moment at least you were free, and suddenly the tears start coming again even harder than before. 

Wriothesley holds you through it, gently shushing you and rubbing your back when the tremors start to become too much, threatening to shatter you into a million fleeting pieces right there on his lap. It takes what seems like a very long time for you to start to calm yourself but eventually, finally, you slowly come down from it one jagged shard of you at a time. It leaves you wheezing in the aftermath, hiccuping every so often, and still he just keeps holding you. 

It was … it was kind of nice, actually. 

“Are you in the right headspace for your paddling now?” 

Grimacing slightly, you sensitively squirm and shake on his lap. “Must we?” 

“I’m afraid we must.” He agrees solemnly, tracing his blunt fingertips over the small of your back. “Remember what I told you last time about reinforcing the lesson and making sure you’ve been paying attention? Can you tell me what it is you’re being punished for?” 

It takes you a very long moment to remember. “I didn’t want you to pay for my lunch but you insisted, and I got mad … you make me really mad sometimes.” 

Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh. “So I’ve noticed. What else, little miss? What else did you do to earn this hairbrush?” 

Your head spins from thinking so hard but at last you manage a soft, “I lied.” 

“Good. What did you lie to me about?” 

“I … I lied about not enjoying it.”

Humming, he traces the path of your spine up to the bunched fabric of your dress, following the curve of every individual divot and bump. “Why did you lie to me about that?” 

You really aren’t sure. Try as you might you just couldn’t seem to recall but, at last, you eventually settle on, “Because I don’t want to enjoy it. I don’t know why I do. Actually I’m not even really sure if I do enjoy it, or if you’re just tricking me.” 

“How would I possibly accomplish that?” 

“I don’t know …” 

“Well, sweet girl, let me tell you something. There’s no shame in enjoying it and I am certainly not tricking you into it either. What is it that you like about it, specifically?” 

You have to labor over that one too. Why was he asking you such complicated questions now of all times, when your head felt like it had been split open and pulled apart? “I guess I like the way your hands feel on me. I like how big you are, and how strong. I feel very small with his grace.”

A pause, thoughtful and curious. “Do you like being made to feel small?” 

Brows knitting as a little bit of the fog starts to peel back, you bring your head up with a heavy, sluggish groan. “Stop asking me so many complicated questions. You are an insufferable man, your grace.” 

“Well, then. My apologies.” He huffs, playing at offense, but you don’t miss the note of laughter in his voice even in your intoxicated state. Turning your head when he leans forward to grab the brush, you stiffen slightly with the realization that, yes, he was indeed about to spank you with it and you can’t help the curling tendril of fear at that as he settles back again. “Do you feel up to counting today, or would you like to just get it done and over with?” 

“That doesn’t seem like much of a choice …” 

Another amused snort. “It probably doesn’t. But you have been awfully good for me since we left that alley. Don’t think I didn’t see those big googly eyes you kept throwing at me.” He teases and, groaning, you reach up to cover your face again while he quietly laughs at your expense. “How about this - you count and I’ll give you a reward at the end. That sounds a bit more fair, doesn’t it? 

“Fine. I don’t even care, just - -“

Swat! 

It hits you out of nowhere and leaves you reeling, sensitively gasping and struggling just to stay in one piece. You shake for everything you’re worth, toes painfully flexing at the suffocating sensation while you twist against it. The brush hurt so, so bad. It felt like it was going to break you. 

“Don’t start getting mouthy just because I gave you a chance to rest for a little bit. Goodness, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone bounce back as quickly as you do.” Wriothesley seems to give his head a brief shake, readjusting the position of his legs under you to subtly angle your ass a bit higher and your top half just a pinch lower. The change in position leaves you blubbering for as slight as it is, and you furiously cling to his pant leg in a grip so tight it makes the knuckles scream, but a soft, attention grabbing tap of the brush against your hip soon draws you back into the moment. 

“I’m waiting.”

“O - o - one, sir …” 

Swat! 

You nearly come right up off his lap from how hard you jerk, but his free hand presses down on your lower back to keep you pinned. Teeth gnashing, you viciously hiss and seeth, impotently kicking your legs against the blinding sting, but it does very little in the way of good. The hurt just sinks in, spreads and then lingers with a tingly, pinprick throb. Suddenly you weren’t so sure you could do this. 

“I … I - I c - can’t —“

“You can, little miss. Although it looks like you might be a bit bruised by the end of it, I have nothing but the utmost faith in you.” 

As if that made you feel even one iota better about it! 

With a pitiful, sobbing mewl, you tuck your face down against his leg in defeat. There was nothing else you could do. “T - … two, sir.” 

A short pause and then — swat! 

You positively shriek, shaking so hard across his legs it’s probably a miracle he manages to stop you from sliding right off. This was terrible, and you’d barely even gotten started! 

“Oooh, gods … th - three, sir. Eeek! Oohhooo! Ohh! Ooh … nnghhnn, f - … four, sir. Aghhn! Ahhaaa … aaahhnn, five, sir! Waaahh!” 

The tears were starting to come again, or trying to, anyway, but you seemed to have cried everything out already. Your eyes just burn and swim with unshed films of mist as you rock against Wriothesley’s legs with each punishing blow. You could feel your skin crawling with every sickening pulse across your bottom, and that was to say nothing of the way your stomach lurches as if to shoot right up out of your throat. You didn’t feel quite as sick as before, but you were still pretty sure that you were going to be sick all over. 

Swat! 

You almost lose count, then you suddenly remember you’re only on seven. 

Hysterically, you start to wail. 

“S - seven, ss - sir … eeek! Hahhnngh … ha - eight, sir, please, don’t — yaaahhah! Oooh, nooo … you’re so mean, ahhn! Haahn! You’re mean, mean, mean!” 

“Am I now?” He drawls, barely heard over your own delirious blabbering. You’d never felt like this before. Never been so incredibly caught up in such all encompassing, dizzying pain, and all you can seem to do is wheeze through it while you uselessly squirm in his lap. 

“Ss - surely I’m not the — the first person to tell y - you that …” 

“You’re not. However, I think you can come up with a much better way to stall than that.” 

You laugh, hysterical and thin. He really was cruel. Quite possibly the meanest person you’d ever been unlucky enough to meet, which just further begged the question … why did you secretly feel so drawn to him, if he was nothing but mean to you? It didn’t make any sense. But, then again, neither does the way you mindlessly push back to arch your searing hot ass up in the air. You really couldn’t fathom what’s come over you, but you don’t stop long enough to linger on it or figure it out. 

“Nine, sir!”

Wriothesley doesn’t even hesitate. Swat! 

Writhing uncontrollably, you force yourself to seethe through it as fast as you’re able to so you can get the next one done and over with. This had quickly turned into an effort in strength of will rather than any kind of physical endurance, but you’d let him beat your ass a bit too much to tap out now. You would push through this just so you could slap him across his stupid smug face as soon as you’d recovered enough to do so! 

“Ten, sir! Ahhn! Ah, ahhh, nngh … eleven, sir!”

Swat! 

Archons, you really were going to be sick. 

“T - twelve, sir! Waaahh! Ohh, gods … thh - thirteen, sir!”

Swat! 

Legs kicking out violently, you take a moment to just shriek into the meat of his leg to muffle the sound. You were so close though … just a few more and you could finally be done with it. 

“Nnghn - hahh! Ahh … four - fourteen, sir! Yaahhghh! Ooohhooo … oww. Fifteen, sir …”

Swat! 

“Ahhgghh! Sixteen, sir! Eeek! Hehhee, eeh … s - seventeen … sir … yeowwch! Ohh, please! No more, no more, no mooooore!” 

Patiently waiting until you calm down enough to hear him, Wriothesley gives your hip a soft, comforting caress with an accompanying jostle to go with it. “You only have two left, little miss. Are you sure you can’t do it? Hm? It seems like it would be such a waste of your efforts to take your punishment like a big girl only to give up now … I can give you a short break, if you want.” 

Struggling not to hyperventilate, you suck in a series of quick, wet breaths and try very hard not to think about how badly your ass hurts. “Y - you’d really stop?” You squeak out, sounding threadbare and pitiful. 

“If you truly needed me to, yes. But there is a big difference between you simply not wanting to do something and you being unable to do it. I think right now you’re just overwhelmed, is all, but do correct me if I’m wrong.” 

You think about that for a long beat, frantically trying to blink away the thick tears lingering in your eyes. If it had been any more than two you were quite certain you wouldn’t have been able to do it but … two wasn’t so bad. It could have certainly been worse. 

Finding your resolve, you viciously fist his pant leg in your hands and force your shuddering body to go still, thinking perhaps that would somehow help you get through the last of it. “Eh - eighteen, sir. Please.”

He shifts against you and — Swat! 

It punches the air right out of you, leaves you gulping for oxygen like a fish out of water, but you don’t stop long enough to let it fully sink in. You couldn’t. “Nineteen, sir!” 

Swat! 

“Twenty! Ooooh, oh god, oh god!” 

“Shh. Deep breaths. Just breathe it in and then let it out. There, you’ve got it. Keep going like that and you’ll be running your mouth again in no time.” He murmurs, making you groan in agony. As if the splintering, eye rattling pain wasn’t bad enough, now you had to listen to him crack jokes too. Amazing. 

But, much to your chagrin, it does work, and you gradually start to come down from it enough to think a little more clearly as the minutes continue to tick by. It’s not by much but at least it lessens enough so that your brain doesn’t feel like it’s bobbing in the tumultuous current out at sea. Even the first time he’d done this you hadn’t felt quite so drained and exhausted … but surely he hadn’t been taking it easy on you back then, right? 

Right? 

“Doing good over there?” 

You draw a slow, stilted breath to steady yourself. “Yeah … no thanks to you, though.” 

“Hah. And what did I say? I knew you weren’t going to stay down long.” 

Gingerly, you start to push up, eager to get out of this uncomfortable position on your stomach, but Wriothesley is quick to grab you so he can control how fast you go, how quickly you can slide jelly filled legs to the floor and make an attempt to stand, but you just shake all over like a newborn fawn even with his help. With a soft click of his tongue, the Duke of Meropide reaches up to grab under your arms and non too gently hauls you right back into his lap again despite your halfhearted protests. The only difference is, this time, you suddenly find yourself straddling his thick thigh and you jolt like he’d zapped you when the pressure digs up into your cunt. 

Noising a wordless sound of confusion, you dazedly glance down to take in the sight of your legs bracketing his thigh, the material of your dress bunched and pooled around you in an inelegant, wrinkled heap. You have no idea what to make of this sudden development, how to even begin processing it. All you know is that the body heat bleeding up from him into you makes your pussy tingle warmly, and you abruptly realize just how wet you really are. The thought that immediately follows that one makes your eyes go big in horror. 

“W - wait —“ You stammer, trying to stand again, but he just firmly holds you in place with those big rough hands on your hips. “Your grace, that’s - -“

“Hush. It’s nothing for you to worry your pretty little head over. Just relax. You want your reward, don’t you?” 

Quaking, you cautiously lift your attention back to his face. “R - reward?” 

Blunt fingers digging into you, Wriothesley keeps his gaze locked on yours as he slowly starts to lean forward. You’re so confused and jittery that you don’t know what to make of it at first, have no clue what he’s planning to do, but then — he kisses you. And suddenly everything seems to screech to a standstill. 

It’s a soft yet firm press of his lips against yours, so featherlight and brief that it probably would have barely registered in your punchdrunk mind were it not for the intense spark of static energy that zaps through you all at once. You give a tiny little jerk against him, too surprised to react for a long, drawn out beat in which he simply keeps his mouth pressed to yours and nothing more. Like he was waiting. Anticipating how you would respond, if you would respond, when you would respond. 

Abruptly, a delayed shudder finally tears through you hard enough to make you sway on his thigh. A soft gasp followed by a faltering groan. Your lashes sensitively flutter at the sudden rush of heady, sharp arousal that crashes into you all at once and you lift your hands, cautiously slow, to clutch at his impossibly broad shoulders. Wriothesley breathes out a soft sound of approval, spurning you on as he tips his head slightly to better accept the warbling kiss you shyly press back into him. He lets you test the waters on your own for a drawn out beat, his mouth steady under yours when he occasionally moves his lips with yours to further draw you into the motion despite your trembling uncertainty. 

You like the way he tastes, you’re a little surprised to find. You also like the way he feels against you, under you, encompassing you, practically smothering you, and it doesn’t take long for a strange sense of desperation to creep in, prompting you to cling to him tighter. Kiss him more fervently and stiltedly rock into him in a blind search for more of what only he seemed to be able to give you. 

As if that was the cue he’d been waiting for this whole time, Wriothesley starts to kiss you back in earnest now, suddenly dominating the exchange to leave you feeling lightheaded and dizzy. At the same time his hands on your waist tug your pelvis forward to drag your bare cunt across the swell of his thigh, and you sharply gasp at the intense sensation it causes. Nudging his leg up a little higher to make your toes inch up off the ground and leave the majority of your weight centered on your core, he settles into a tortuously slow pace of push and pull, guiding you through the motions with the ever secure anchor of his hands on your body. You quickly succumb to it, all of it. The sensation dragging against your slit as much as the ever present throb across your ass that seems to mirror the wild rhythm of your pulse, the mind numbing way he kisses you, the smell of him as much as the taste of him. You were drowning in it all, sinking alarmingly fast. 

Finally unable to take it any longer, you weakly turn away from his demanding mouth to keen into the air, soft and thin. He doesn’t even hesitate to latch onto the side of your neck, pecking at your jaw and the pounding pulse point he finds a little lower, and you soon shudder at the warm, wet drag of a hot tongue when he laps at your skin. It really was too much. He was too much. 

“Aah … y - your grace, please, I — I don’t understand - -“

“I know, I know.” He shushes you in a low, rumbling growl that has you instinctively arching your back, the glide of your cunt stuttering over his thigh at the overwhelm but his massive hands just keep tugging you back and forth, back and forth. “Just relax and let me take care of it. I’ve got you, okay? You know that don’t you, pretty girl?” 

His mouth works its way back up, kissing along your cheek to claim your mouth again. As if he’s trying to consume you, pull you into his body, and he drags another stilted whine from the back of your throat with the dizzying motion. The lingering sting of tears rises in your eyes once again as you continue to rock against him, hips squirming eagerly in his hold, but no matter how wild you get he just keeps at that same unhurried pace. It’s almost as tortuous as the throbbing pulse that spears through your heated bottom with every little shift or jostle, but it inexplicably seems to make you even wetter. You were soaring unlike ever before. Reeling and heaving, gasping into his mouth. Having no other choice but to accept what he gives — whatever he gives you and however he so chooses — you slump into him and wrap your arms around his neck, clinging for dear life while the tension thrumming through you ratchets higher and higher. 

You’re so caught up in it you almost miss the first sign that this is having any effect on him at all when Wriothesley reluctantly drags his lips off yours in favor of groaning against the side of your face. “Shit, you’re so wet I can feel it bleeding right through my pants leg … you said I was a terror earlier but I honestly think the same thing of you.” A clipped, almost strained laugh. “I fear you may yet be the death of me at this rate, little miss …” 

You whimper at that, tightly screwing your eyes shut as you ride the gradually creating waves washing over you, each a little stronger than the last. “I’m sorry, your grace … I - I’ll have it dry cleaned for you, if — if you’d like …” 

“Nonsense.” He growls, turning his head so he can take a quick nip at your ear to make you gasp. “Say anything like that ever again and I’ll take you right back over my knee, do you hear me? Soak them for all I care. Come on, I know you want to cum … I can feel that cute little pussy of yours throbbing on my leg. Feels like you’ve got another heartbeat down there, doesn’t it? Bet it matches the one in your ass too …”

Crying out in stricken distress, you shudder so violently your hips grind to a sudden halt even when his hands try to keep you moving. He could force you to, if he really wanted, and you knew this, but instead — and much to your gasping surprise, Wriothesley digs his fingers in tight enough to bruise and starts bouncing his leg under you. The sound that suddenly bursts out of you is hysterical and high pitched as you sway and jolt on his lap, hands scrabbling to clutch at him somehow more fervently. The building tension in your body was too much and it locks up every single muscle, sets every single nerve ending to vibrate even while you suck in a haggard mouthful of air that doesn’t seem to be enough. Your lungs are constricting, they won’t expand, and you choke on it, disoriented in the potent flood of endorphins that bears down on you with all the force of a raging hurricane. 

It felt like you were going to vibrate right off his lap. 

“That’s it. Cum for me, lovely girl. Let me see how you look when you’re cumming for me, all nice and pretty. You’re so good for me, when you want to be … but you secretly like being a good girl, don’t you? You want me to keep praising you and rewarding you just as much as you want me to keep putting you in your place. Yeah, I’ve got you all figured out now. Don’t be scared. I won’t let you fall, just let it go. Cum for me, baby, scream for me - -“ 

You’re completely blindsided when the coil finally snaps and you do indeed scream, shrieking plaintively as your legs jerk and try to find purchase on the floor, try to push yourself up to escape the onslaught of sensation, but he just holds you in place even when you devolve into a mindless fit of spasms on top of him. Wailing in pleasure so potent it almost hurts, you judder through your orgasm and shove your face into the soft fur embellishing his coat, muffling the sound just enough to stop it from echoing endlessly inside your head. The persistent nudge of his leg right against your squeezing cunt seems to drag it out, encouraging tremor after quaking tremor to tear through you until, at last, you can take no more and you go boneless against him with a frazzled, heaving groan. 

Finally, Wriothesley slows the bounce of his leg and then stills all together. Giving you an appreciative pinch around the waist, he slowly drags his hands up your sides to wrap around you and tuck you more closely against him while you weakly twitch through your post-climax haze, struggling to calm your breathing. He lets out a terse, shuddering breath of his own and rubs across your back in comforting circles, sounding a bit dazed himself when he eventually speaks again. 

“Archons, you're perfect.” 

Offering up a soft whine, you give your head a numb shake. “Don’t say that.” You murmur into his collar. 

“But it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you, little miss. Not about anything.” Silence settles over the two of you for a long stretch, just sharing the mutual body heat between each other and the lingering haze of static energy in the room. Eventually, though, Wriothesley turns his head to tuck his face in close to yours, pressing a featherlight kiss to your temple. “We need to get you cleaned up and situated but I just want to make sure you know I’m proud of you.”

You go stock still at that, your fingers sinking deeper into his shoulders. “What?” 

Snorting, he nuzzles further into you until you have no choice but to turn your head, grudgingly allowing him to press his forehead against yours. “For everything, but especially for finishing your paddling.” He murmurs softly into the razor thin space separating you from him. “I know that was exceptionally hard for you to do but you took it well and you pushed through. I’m also quite pleased that you were able to cum for me. That satisfied me a great deal too.” 

“It’s not like I really had much of a choice …” 

“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To give you what you need, even if you don’t realize you need it yet.” 

Huffing a brief sound of fluster, you quickly gather your resolve and force yourself to pull away, even though you would have gladly clung to him for the rest of the day if you would have allowed it. That seemed like it probably wasn’t the best idea though. Too tempting to reconcile in your mind, so you carefully untangle from him and move to stand up. You’re quite relieved that he lets you go without a fuss, helping you find your balance and get your legs under you again, but you regret it almost as soon as you take a step back and see his pant leg. 

The wet stain bleeding through the fabric is rather obvious on the light gray material, and embarrassingly spread out too. Gasping in unmitigated horror, you quickly slap your hands over your face and make an impulsive, blind dash for the bathroom to lock yourself away and wallow in your own embarrassment in peace. And Wriothesley, for his part, just laughs at your reaction, evidently not at all concerned about either getting his pants clean or being able to coax you back out later. 

Burn that dirty, rotten scoundrel!

⭐

Crossposted: here

[penelopepine]

Forever In Your Gaze

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Fem Reader

Part 1 Part 2

Summary: Night at the museum AU. Gaz and Reader are both paintings directly across from one another, and have been in love for many years now. The only thing is that they are unable to actually leave the confines of their canvas, and have never felt others touch.

I wrote a blurb about this already here!

Word Count: 2,050

Content: Established relationship, fluff, light angst

-

"This class is the painting of the Duke of Hersling, Kyle Garrick, though he was often referred to as Gaz to his close friends." The teacher says while pointing at a large, full body painting of man dressed in his finest. The most striking things about the painting is the sword on his hip, and the intense straight forward stare. "He was a swordsman and a scholar during his life." 

"How did he die?" One of the boys in the back of the group yells out. 

The teacher smiles at hearing a question and says, "He actually died in battle; this painting was done only months before his death in 1545. Any more questions?" Hearing none, the teacher directs them to the painting directly opposite of the Duke. "This painting here was actually done in 1545 by William Bahr. A very prestigious portrait painter in his time.” 

The painting showed a woman sitting in a field of flowers with a bright smile. The sun is shining bright behind her while she looks lovingly straight ahead. Upon looking at both paintings it is clear that they are at eye level with one another; staring into each other's eyes. 

A girl this time raises her hand, and once receiving a nod from the teacher she asks, “What about the woman in the painting? Who is she?” 

“She is an unknown figure, the painting was never picked up by its buyer, and no documents containing that information were ever found. She is assumed to be the daughter of a nobleman though.” 

"Do you think she and the duke knew each other?" Another girl asks, looking between the two paintings, "I think they'd make a cute couple!" 

The rest of the students laugh at those words, and once they’ve calmed down the teacher says, “It’s funny that you actually say that! When I worked here during college my coworkers and I would always refer to these two as the forever gazing lovers.” 

“Mr. Sanderson, I didn’t know you used to work here,” a student exclaims, “I couldn’t imagine working at a museum. Wasn’t that boring; staring at the same stuff everyday?” 

“You’d be surprised how wild a museum can get,” He gives a light chuckle to himself, and looks up nostalgically at the art around him. “My favorite part was working as a night guard. It turns into a whole different world here, but enough about that let’s continue to the next room.” 

-

It was later in the evening when everybody was in the lobby getting ready to board the bus did the teacher see his old mentor and friend walk through the doors. 

“John Price!” He proclaims with an extended hand out. 

“Gary Sanderson!” John calls back, and shakes his offered hand. “It’s good to see you here again, lad.”

“It feels as if I never left, sir. How is everyone around here doing?” 

Price looks at him knowingly, “Everyone’s been good, they miss you, but they’ve been good. You’ll have to come and visit sometime.” 

“I will, promise.” Gary looks to where his students are just as the bus pulls up before whispering, “tell everyone I miss them as well. I’ll call later and plan a visit with you later.” 

“You better keep your word with that. Ghost and Soap will go and hunt you down if you don’t.” 

Gary gives him a laugh and one last nod before rushing back to his class, and leading them outside to the bus. 

With that Price turns and continues further into the museum. Telling folks that they will be closing in just a bit, and getting everything ready for the night to begin. 

It’s only half an hour later when Price is locking the door. He knows things are going to be very active in here in just a couple hours so he takes this time to get some of his actual work done. He sits in the lobby behind the reception desk until the sun has fully gone down, and the moon is high in the sky. 

He knows that the magic is about to begin when the moonlight that shines through the doors starts to have a more unnatural silver glow to it. Price watches as the silver moon rays slowly morph into a ball. In a matter of seconds the glowing sphere has finished growing in size, and suddenly it darts forward. Leaving Price where he was sitting as it flies past him, and travels down all the halls inside the museum. 

As it passes a piece of art it’s clear that the art then, as if waking up from sleep, slowly comes to life. It quickly passes the gazing lovers' paintings; arising them from their slumber. 

-

When Kyle awakens for another night the first thing he sees is you; which is exactly how he wants to start every night for the rest of time. Life was perfect for him with you, and the only thing he wished for now was to someday feel your touch; even if it was only once. "How is it that everytime I wake up and see that you just appear more and more perfect?” 

“You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” You giggle at his flirtatious words. He always makes sure to say words of endearment to you first thing upon waking up. 

“Well I would hope so! Otherwise what are these museum workers doing besides making sure my varnish is still in prime condition?” 

“Probably keeping the rest of the building from falling apart!” 

"I think Price is the one that does that." Kyle argues with mischief clear as day on his face.

"I'm gonna tell Laswell next time we see her that you said that." You say with a small chuckle before bringing your hand up to the invisible border keeping you inside the frame. 

Kyle watches as you bring your hand up, and does the same with his. This is the closest the two of you have come to holding hands with one another. Conversations from this point continue as normal for the two of you. Talking about whatever comes to your mind with one another. 

Occasionally talking with the other paintings around the room, or anyone that passes by. Farah, a statue of a queen who led her kingdom to victory in battle, and Alex, a wax figure of an American WW2 pilot, make sure to stop by and say hello. The two of them always stay for a few hours talking with you both before continuing on their way. 

It was only a few minutes after they left when Price walked into the room, a grim expression, coming to stand between the two of them.

“Price, everything alright?” Kyle asks with a worry in his voice.

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news for the two of you." Price runs a hand through his beard; he's clearly trying to already come up with a plan for whatever is wrong, "This area is getting a complete makeover tomorrow. You two would be very lucky to even be around each other come tomorrow night." 

Kyle immediately looks to you after hearing those words; he couldn't imagine being away from you. He's been facing you for years now, and Kyle is not in any way ready for that to change. "How do we fix this then?" He asks, directing his question towards Price. 

“I’m going to talk to Laswell tomorrow, but it’s Shepherd who is changing things around.” 

“Fucking Shepherd.” Kyle cursed the man to himself. That man was always making decisions about the museum that seemed to bring nothing but pain for everyone here. 

It was you who asked the next question, “Will she be able to go around him, and keep us together?"

"That's the goal. Shepherd isn't around very often, and even when he is he doesn't bother walking around the area. We'll try and switch a couple things around tomorrow night." Price huffed; he clearly didn't like what Shepherd was doing either. He was most likely going to be hearing a lot of complaints from the others in the area as well. "I've got others that I still need to inform, but trust me when I say you two will remain together." 

With that Price continues on his way leaving Kyle and you to dwell on the information he just told.

"Kyle I'm scared; what if they can't do anything, and we end up getting split up?" 

"I'll find you, love." Kyle is very serious as he says this to you, "This will not keep me from you. That I can promise." 

Kyle and you continue to discuss what this will mean for you both, and possible solutions to stay together. When the time comes to go to sleep again he finds a small amount of comfort looking into your eyes. For in your eyes that is where he finds peace. Kyle's last thoughts before the sun comes up is that he loves you. 

-

When Kyle finally realizes that he is awake once again it takes only a moment for him to know that it is not you that he sees. Instead he is in front of a painting of an older man with a dark background around him. 

Despite knowing that this would be his reality Kyle is still hit with the panic of not seeing you. He is quick to look around hoping that at the very least that you wouldn't be far, and could still talk to you right now. 

He bangs on the barrier, and calls out your name when he doesn't see you. Every time his fist hits the barrier a magical sheen ripples around where he made contact. Kyle does this for several moments even asking the others around him if they can see you.

Before he can continue once more yelling for you Soap appears seemingly out of nowhere in front of him. Following closing behind him is both Price and Ghost as well. Soap and Ghost are both bronze statues, who once the sun is up are two soldiers fighting one another in one of the Anglo-Scottish wars. It took Price a lot of effort to eventually get them on civil terms with one another. 

Which is why it’s almost surprising looking at where their relationship is now.

“Gaz!” Soap’s voice calls out. His friend brings his hand up to the canvas, placing his hand where his shoulder would be if they could touch. “Mate, you’ve got to calm down.” 

“Where is she? She was meant to still be in the area; she’s gone!” 

Price readily steps forward next to Soap, “She’s most likely been moved downstairs to storage. We’ll go and find out where she is, and carry her up once we do.”

Those words brought so much relief to him, but at the same time this situation was meant to be very different. “Why is she not here though? What did Laswell say about all this?” 

“Shepherd refused to let Laswell know anything that was happening. She’s trying to figure out what all he has planned, but some things may not be so easy to undo. All we can really do right now is wait.” Price calmly replies back to him. 

It’s Ghost who actually says the most comforting thing to him though, “Your girl has been moved, Gaz. She has not gone though you’ll see each other again, at most, in a few hours.”

The three give him a few more words of comfort before rushing out to find you. 

This time away from you has really made Kyle think about the first time he met you. It was just another night for him. He knew from Laswell that a new painting was going to be added, and would be placed opposite of him. Nothing could have prepared him for you though. 

The first time he woke up to see you had truly taken his breath away. You were the most beautiful person he had ever seen, and once he had started talking to you his heart had been yours. 

With that in mind Kyle starts to push against the invisible barrier holding him inside the frame. He thinks of you as he pushes and pushes and pushes. Until suddenly, like a rubber band snapping, he's out.

Taglist: @zarsghost

Note: I finally wrote it!!! I hope you enjoyed reading this; feel free to let me know your thoughts!

[vspin]

Cazador could have been a much more interesting villain.

It's very obvious a lot of Act 3 content was cut just based on lose threads you find throughout the city that kinda lead to nothing.

I think Cazador was one of the biggest disappointments of Act 3. Don't get me wrong, killing him and completing Astarion's arc was an incredibly satisfying and emotional experience. But I think it could have been even better.

If you read the books and notes around his estate, it's obvious they were setting up Cazador as this big-time political player in Baldur's Gate. Astarion even alludes to this earlier in the game (this could have just been Astarion speaking out of fear). Cazador's been in Baldur's Gate a long time and hasn't had the cavalry coming down on him for being a vampire so the man is obviously cunning and has some type of influence.

Some things I would have liked to see concerning Cazador:

Cazador's letter to the other vampire in his sanctum says he was planning a political takeover of the city after his ascension. This wouldn't be possible with Gortash in power.

I think that Cazador should have been a potential ally against Gortsah. Hear me out, yes most likely we as the player could choose to refuse him or betray him later on, but I think it would have been interesting if Cazador approached the player looking to help take out Gortash.

More elaboration on Astarion's background as a Magistrate. More information on the other spawn. Maybe you learn that all of them were people of some type of power and influence and Cazador specifically chose them based on this.

There should have been a proper coronation for Gortash. Not this nonsense above a prison. Have the characters dress up. Meet and greet with the powers of Baldur's Gate. This is where we see Cazador for the first time. (Also, this could have been a cool opportunity to influence and build Wyll as the next potential Grand Duke but that's a whole other topic!)

Give an option to betray Astarion to Cazador in reward for some type of power (I know :( but come on, we can slaughter innocent children, you can't tell me an evil power-hungry character wouldn't rather hedge their bets on a Vampire Lord vs. a spawn)

Make the ascension tied to a specific date/environment event to justify Cazador not immediately taking Asatrion.

Idk this isn't very fleshed out. Just my thoughts on what I think could have made Act 3 stronger . I'm also a sucker for OP Vampire Lords (Castlevania, Strahd) so I really wanted to see that reflected in Cazador instead of this guy who reminded me of an Oblivion NPC.

[evielmostdefinitely]

i would love if we got to see what the proposal in the garden was like!!!!! <3

bed of roses |young!coriolanus snow x capitol!reader|

prompt: as requested above, coriolanus' proposal to you.

contains: kinda dark/posessive coriolanus. capitol!reader. duke!reader who is a rothschild type. slight oc?? no descriptor but mentions oc names. fluff. nervous coryo.

A simple luncheon. 

That’s what you were told. A Sunday tea with your family and Coriolanus’, just like they did in the Old World. Your Grandmatron had insisted on it, and in classic Duke style, what she said went. The drab chic of Capitol fashion was forgone for the afternoon, opted in for bright frills and patterns that went out of style long before you were born. A classic, still, for Sunday luncheons in spring. Your mother had your dress custom made, a blush pink that stood bright and radiant amongst the shades of soft cyan and muted marigold. 

Coriolanus had arrived in a linen suit, neatly pressed with amber buttons that stood out beautifully against the white suit. You had no doubt Tigris had made it, the telling touch of the cerulean pocket square that mirrored his eyes. 

He seemed tense, when he kissed your cheek in greeting. Chaste and respectable, but his hands felt clammy when they took yours. 

Unbeknownst to you, Coriolanus was feeling the weight of the world sitting at the table. His family’s legacy, his own future crushing on his shoulders. The small ring in his pocket felt like an anchor. Coryo wondered if this is what the tributes felt like, before their name was called, standing at the Reaping, knowing that at any moment their life could change for the better or for the worse. Their fate in someone else’s hands as his was now. 

“Are you alright?” You whispered, leaning into him gently at the table, your hand brushing his thigh under the table. Coryo jumped with surprise, further drawing your suspicions. 

“Yes,” Coryo’s voice was tight, heart lurching in his chest. He turned to you, offering a tight lipped, half smile that was a poor attempt at convincing you. “I’m alright. Just ate a big breakfast.” 

You frowned, but brushed it off when he took your hand in his, squeezing it affectionately under the table. Your body burned, electric with excitement at the intimacy of the action. 

Coriolanus couldn’t seem to swallow down the raging anxieties he felt blooming inside his chest. The nagging fear that you might reject him. 

Of course, he’d asked your father’s permission, elated when Atticus Duke granted it to him. The typhoon had even smiled, given him a half curled lip and a nod. “If you take care of my girl, I’ll take care of you, Snow.” 

Now, his fate lay at your feet. 

The rational side of his mind told him that you loved him. Of course, you loved him. You’d told him that endlessly. In the morning before he’d leave for the lab, or late at night between silk sheets. 

As each second passed, Coriolanus grew more and more anxious. He caught your mother’s eyes, her knowing grin making his blood run cold. She assured him she’d have the garden prepared for this momentous occasion, hiring the whimsical Trinket’s to florist the garden. Bright flowers lining the walkway, lotus floating in the small pond, an archway of pink roses over the gazebo. 

“Mother must be planning a party.” You giggled, your lace gloved hand in Coryo’s, strolling with him through the botanicals. 

Coriolanus stiffened beside you. “Why would you say that, my love?” He tried to sound casual, but still, that demanding cut in his tone lingered still. 

You looked at him, the sun illuminating his features, his hair as bright and light as the rays that blinded your vision. “The flowers.” You motioned towards the freshly planted lilies next to you. “She only ever goes this dramatic when they’re having a celebration of sorts.” 

Coriolanus felt his stomach turn, hoping you couldn’t feel the way his heart skipped. “Perhaps they’re hosting the Reaping party this year?” 

“Mm, perhaps.” Coriolanus nodded, taking a calming breath to soothe his nerves. Pull yourself together, Snow. You’ve worked too hard to piss it away now. Snow lands on top. She is your top. Don’t ruin it now. 

“Would you like to join me?” Coriolanus stepped onto the gazebos stair that bore a fresh coat of paint. His hand extended to your own, a soft smile tugging at his lips when you took his hand. 

“Hm,” Your head titled, looking at the array of roses above the entrance. “That’s odd.” 

Coriolanus’ heart dropped. “What is?” His lungs squeezed, stealing every last breath from him. 

Your eyes met his, brows furrowed with curiosity. “She used roses?” You tilted your head to the side gently. Coryo blinked at you. “Mother never uses roses outside. Says it’s gauche.” You shrugged. 

Coriolanus burned. He’d suggested it when she’d asked. Now, he wondered if it would all be ruined. One tiny slip up, and he’d blown it all. 

“It’s beautiful today.” The small sigh of content you gave stole him from his own worrisome thoughts. Your head tilted back, holding your small head piece so you could bask in the warmth of the sun- rare in the Capitol. 

“It is.” Coryo agreed, stepping beside you. He wondered if your father had somehow managed to pay for the sun to shine. He certainly could afford to. “Nearly as beautiful as you.” He whispered, breath hot on the shell of your ear, leaving you shivering. 

“Coryo,” You blushed, cheeks burning with adorning heat. 

“I mean it.” Coriolanus nodded, a hand sliding over your waist at a respectable placement, yet still affectionate. He knew your family was watching after all. “You always look so radiant. Always manage to steal my breath right from my lungs with your beauty. You have since the first time I laid eyes on you in Twelve.” 

Your chin ducked, hoping to hide the fluster of your cheeks. “You’re being playful, Coryo.” You muttered, eyes cutting up to meet him, hidden by the netting of your fascinator in your hair. 

“I am not.” Coryo shook his head, hand sliding over his pocket, feeling for the ring there. It was now or never, time to face his destiny. “I am entirely serious, my love. You have always managed to captivate me with your beauty, your humor, your kindness.” His hand took yours, pulling you closer to him. 

Your eyes shone when they met him, filled with a lovestruck, glossy gaze. It encouraged him, sending that final surge of confidence to deliver the speech he’d practiced endlessly for weeks now. His tongue felt numb in his own mouth when he said your name, tongue rolling over each syllable as if he wanted to savor each one. 

“There has been no other like you in my life before, and I hope there never will be.” Coriolanus' hand tightened around your waist, pulling you closer to him. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever dreamt of, gone far beyond my own imaginations with your perfection.” 

“Coryo,” You choked on your tears, eyes shining with emotion. 

 “Please,” Coryo stepped away, though his hand never left your own. “I could speak forever about how perfect you are to me, and there still would not be enough time to capture how much I adore you.” Coryo paused, leaning forwards to look deeply into your eyes. “How much I love you.” 

Your heart skipped, racing like the wings of a hummingbird when he dropped to one knee. An outdated tradition, sure, but one he knew you cherished. One he knew your family would approve as well. 

“I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Coriolanus said, hand sliding into his jacket pocket to retrieve the ring, hoping you didn’t see how it shook. “I can’t imagine a life without you. I don’t want to live a life without you. I want you beside me through it all. When I command this entire country, I want you to be there with me.” 

Your tongue swelled, head swimming when you caught a glimpse of the dazzling sapphire ring. Coriolanus’ mother’s ring, you knew that much. He’d mentioned it only a few times in passing. You knew what it meant to him, what she meant to him. 

“I don’t want to be without you ever again.” Coriolanus continued, the ring pinched between his fingers. “I only want you, my petal. So will you do me the greatest honor of my life?” His eyes rounded so sweetly when he asked, a new side of Coryo you’d never experienced. “Will you marry me?” 

Your chest burned, suffocated with tears and emotions that wanted to explode out of you. Your silence made Coryo’s own heart drop, fear filled with damning reality. 

“Yes,” Your voice cut through your thick tears before he could spiral completely. It felt nearly fake, like he’d imagined it. 

Then, you nodded. Head bobbing, uncaring at how the small hair piece shook, sliding through your locks. Coriolanus was sure he was in shock, ears ringing with uncertainty. “Yes?” He whispered. 

Your nod made his shoulders drop with relief, heart beat thundering through his body with aftershock. “Yes,” You croaked, sniffling wetly. “Yes, Coryo. Yes, I-I will marry you.” 

You surprised him next. Overwhelmed with emotion, your hands cupped his face, pulling him in for a sweet, nearly sloppy kiss. Lovesoaked with a powerful emotion that overcame you. Coriolanus faltered, eyes cutting towards the house, burning with embarrassment. It was so improper, and he knew your family was watching him- judging him. 

Coriolanus stood, breaking the kiss, not missing the look of disappointment that flashed for only a moment over your features, before he took your hand. He took his time pulling each finger off the lacy gloves, swallowing a smile at how you shivered with excitement before he slipped the ring onto your finger. It fit perfectly, almost like his mother was giving her own nod of approval to you. 

His lips brushed your knuckles, before you pulled him back into you, a sweet kiss, more respectable this time- appropriate, so he allowed it. Coryo’s chest boasted when he walked back into your family's home, smug at how you showed off your ring proudly, beaming with pure joy at the news. The rest of the afternoon was spent chatting about wedding details, dates and plans, while Coriolanus planned his own. 

Not your wedding- no, he’d leave that to you, but his own future plans. How he’d run Panem, when your father would appoint him, his first actions as President. His own future, out of your hands, and back in his clutches now. 

[bloomeng]

I’m so curious about what their respective artifacts look like in the magical girl au! Is Jason’s his earrings? Is Dick’s the crown?

I have also been wondering this myself and I’ve come to a tentative answer (however this is subjected to change if I come up with better ideas)

The artifacts transform with their users but in their dormant state:

Bruce’s is a brooch which he allegedly wears in honor of his mother which is a half truth (I’m toying with the idea of having him modify the brooch into cufflinks)

Robin (all of them) were given a small robin shaped pendant and each of them were allowed to choose how they wore it (Dick - a collar pin chain/ Jason - a pendant necklace/ Tim - a cufflink/ Steph - attached to a headband/ Damian - a collar pin)

Jason’s— as many have correctly assumed— are his earrings

Tim’s is also a pendant—cause he’s still hanging onto that robin title— that he wears as a necklace usually under his clothing

Steph’s is a barrette that she sometimes clips to a band to wear as a headband or clips to a hairband to wear as a bracelet (Bruce has been telling her for years that she was going to loose it this way but when it’s obvious she’s not gonna stop he made her accessories that she could attach it to securely)

As Oracle Barbara’s artifacts are her rings as Batgirl her artifact was a belt buckle

Duke’s is an ear cuff because I want it to match his little wing headpieces

Dick’s artifact I’m undecided on—I just can’t see him wearing a lot of jewelry— I want each of the artifacts to be wearable items that are believable enough to be worn in every day life and be in the rough placement of the artifact in costume but that doesn’t really work for Dick I’ve checked and the only accessories he wears in canon are watches and belts neither of which fit the vibe so right now I’ve been considering a pin so that he can move it around as he pleases similarly to how Steph uses hers (examples of how Dick wears it: cufflinks, tie pin, bracelet charm, collar pin, loose in his pocket…)

Cass I was thinking some sort of hair ornament that would transform into the clips she wears in costume but I just don’t see her wearing clips so maybe when I redesign her batgirl/black bat design I’ll revisit I was looking at the comics to see what she wears out of costume and I noticed when she dresses up she usually wears a necklace so I think that could be cute

When they transform:

As I mentioned Dick’s becomes his circlet and Duke’s his winged headpiece

Barbara and Jason’s remain as rings and earrings respectively

Steph’s becomes her tiara

Cass’s is subject to change but for now it’s her hair clips

Tim’s is the circular chest plate thing that forms the bow

Damian’s becomes Alfred the Cat’s collar

Bruce I have yet to design so to be continued

I’m thinking I might design some of the artifacts for fun I don’t have a lot of experience in prop design so no promises but I think they would be super cute

[twstfanblog]

So I was up wayyy too late last night and I had an idea for Manhwa D (this is really long sorry but also not sorry) ((thanks for getting my creative juices flowing))

Crewel and Crowley go back in time and they both remember. They wake up one night when Yuu is eight, look at each other, and instantly know that the other knows. At 1am they start panic planning how to move away and disappear out of the social world to keep their daughter safe, working strangely well for once.

At some point though they come to the realization that YUU DID NOTHING WRONG. Sure, she had a little more attitude and sass than most other nobles, and sure, she showed her love through gentle teasing - but why should they root up her life when the people who truly did something wrong was the FL and the trio?? Besides, Yuu had enjoyed her life of parties and social events and fine art. Who were they to take that all away from her in favor of hiding her away?

No, it would be much better to do something about the ones who harmed her in the first place.

Yuu wakes up to her parents suddenly becoming 4x more overprotective and doting. It’s a little annoying that they constantly need to know everything that’s going on, but really, who is she to complain when her new night routine is being smothered in kisses by her fathers right before falling asleep?

Crewel and Crowley use their knowledge of the next 13 years to turn their grand duchy into even more of a powerhouse, forging connections with merchants and nobles alike who will make it big. At some point their duchy rivals the power of the imperial family. They cut of connections with the Ashengrottos and the Al-Asims in favor of other noble families. They can’t really cut ties with Malleus, so they opt to send gifts over for his birthday instead of actually attending.

At first Yuu is devastated when her parents tell her she can’t be around the trio anymore, but Dire and Divus sit her down and have a long discussion about how the boys haven’t treated her well and that she deserves better, more caring friends. Thus starts the rounds of new playmates.

Yuu’s first friend comes in Leona, the second son of Duke Kingscholar, two years older than Yuu. Although both Leona and Yuu her hesitant about the idea of being each other’s playmates, they hit it off because of how well their personalities meshed, and because they could match each other’s level of sass. Mostly they would sit around and snack while playing chess and other games, or lounging around outside and talking about everything and anything.

Idia and Riddle initially start out as schoolmates to receive tutoring with, but they all end up getting along well enough and they all just kinda hang out at the Crowley mansion along with Ace and Deuce, Riddle’s child attendants who get schooling alongside him, and Ortho, Idia’s little brother, who had a major heart attack as a kid and as a result has a heart made and fueled by magic.

Lastly comes Vil. Yuu met Vil when Crewel and Crowley decided to sponsor up-and-coming actors. Of course, they already knew who they were going to sponsor because they knew who would make it big, but they hosted it as an audition and Yuu came to watch. They had planned for Neige to become one of Yuu’s playmates, but after the audition Yuu had ran over to Vil and started GUSHING about his amazing acting and how he portrayed the depth of his (villain) character. So, Vil became the playmate instead. After gaining some real friends and seeing who different it was from before with the trio, she finally sees what her fathers meant when they said that stuff about the Malleus, Azul and Jamil.

Time passes and Yuu is living the life. Her parents are taking revenge on everyone in the past who ever harmed her. That son of a viscount who drunkenly spilled wine on her dress at Yuu’s 16th birthday party in the first timeline? An anonymous tip is sent to the police about the viscount’s fraud and illegal business ventures, and a month later the viscount is imprisoned and the rest of the family scattered.

Yuu looks back at her old friends in the trip with disdain but not hatred. She realizes that they didn’t like her and she is upset because she was genuinely trying to be their friends, but she knows that it wasn’t that serious and they were all just stupid kids. Nothing came of the dislike for her (this time). Besides now she has real friends who treat her better than ever and value her.

The trio are all having a hard time, because besides realizing how much they missed Yuu and realizing that they cared, their families have been on the decline because of the lack of a good relationship with the Crowley Duchy. Their parents don’t understand why the duke suddenly cut them off. But the kids? yeah they realize.

Yuu is living the dream life. She’s beautiful, smart and powerful. She’s the flower of high society and is not only close friends with loads of highly talented people, but also has lots of female friends. She even made a personal connection to the powerful Diamond merchants by helping and befriending the leader’s only son, Cater Diamond. As for romance, this time around Yuu falls for Leona.

They both fall for each other slowly as they grow up. The reason is basically the same for both of them; that reason being that the other took the time to get to know the real them, saw who they really were, and still accepted them with love. Yuu didn’t care that Leona was the moody second son who felt inferior to his brother, she just saw him as the extremely intelligent, strategic and strong guy he is. Leona didn’t care about Yuu’s sassy and *sometimes* bitchy attitude, he saw her for the badass she is.

Leona also loves how strong Yuu is and how she always seem to know how to get her way. Also, because she’s one of the only people who seems to acknowledge any of his feats, and she does so with absolute adoration and awe on her face. Yuu loves that even though she is strong and can defend herself (Crewel and Crowley forced her to take martial arts so no past mistakes were repeated) both physically and in a battle of wits, Leona is always there to help her is she needs it; willing to say the rude things she can’t in fear of ruining her pristine reputation and coming to her help when faced with an attacker. It felt nice to have someone who she can depend on, but can also depend on her.

After Yuu turns sixteen, Leona asks Crewel and Crowley to court Yuu, and they accept. He then asks Yuu herself and she also accepts. They begin courting (dating). Leona is a surprisingly romantic lover. He knows that if he’s anything less than perfect her parents will disapprove, but he also wants to do these things. He thought it was a hassle at first but Yuu’s smile when he shows her love, whether it be big or small, makes his heart leap with uncharacteristic joy. Yuu and Leona continue to see each other until, on her 21st birthday, Leona pulls Yuu into the garden in the evening and proposes to her.

Imagine to the joy that Dire and Divus felt when their daughter, dressed to the 11s, walks in hand in hand with Leona and proudly shows off to her fathers the absolutely gorgeous ring on her finger. The date is quickly set for the wedding and all the planning begins. Dire and Divus want this to be the biggest and best celebration ever held in the grand duchy. After all, these are going to be the people who eventually rule over it in the future. (For sure Leona is going to take the Crowley name so he can help Yuu rule over the duchy)

The date for the wedding? The date that Yuu died in the past timeline. It’s Crowley and Crewel’s final FU to the past and all the happened in a nice full circle moment. In the past this was the worst day of Yuu’s life, the day she realized her friends hated her and when she died. And now, it’ll be the happiest day of her life where she’s marrying the man she loves with her real friends watching and supporting her, ready to start a new chapter of her life, one that no one the future of, but Dire and Divus know it’ll be a good one.

- I kinda just dumped my feelings onto this so I hope you enjoyed it, and sorry if this was a lot to look at/read. Bye!

This is a mini manhwa in of itself and I ADORED IT! Yuu x Leona honestly makes a lot of sense with the waybyou built their relationship up. This was so cute to wake up to!!!

Manhwa D is a lot of Crewel and Crowley actually working together and confusing their staff even more and what the fuck kinda relationship they have.

The saddest part is that they WOULDN'T have that talk with Yuu about how the trio treat her isn't okay, because its how they fucking treat each other. And Yuu's smart enough to point that out and question why its ok for them to say mean things about each other all the time and just...put up with it???

Crewel and Crowley stay married for their own selfish reasons and in this AU its to the deservice of Yuu because literally they just need to divorce and co-parent from their separate estates.

Yuu would still be closer to new friends over time but then they'd point out from what she said, the way the trio were treating her wasn't ok.

Yuu: What do you mean? That's how my dads talk to each other all the time?

[luckieduckiie]

Daddy & Duke | d. dennis & chrisnxtdoor

in which Chris asks Duke to watch yall & he does…

Duke wasn’t a conservative guy by any means, everyone knew that, but nothing could have prepared him for the request which Chris had just asked of him.

“Man what?” Duke asked again, unsure if he had heard what his friend really said.

“Bro, I’m for real man. She said it was something she has always wanted and you’re the only guy I know mature enough not to go run they mouth about it or make shit weird,” Chris stated matter of factly.

Duke scratched his head through his beaning, “So you are asking me to sit and watch you and your girl fuck?”

“Yeah nigga, she says the thought of that shit turn her on.” Chris stated.

“Man, that’s some crazy shit. Did she say she wanted it to be me that watched yall?” He quizzed.

“No, actually she said she didn’t want it to be anyone from AMP at all since she aint met yall yet and she don’t want the first impression she makes to be one like that.” Chris sighed. “But Duke you a handsome guy man so who else better. No homo though nigga.”

Duke just stared at the man across from him for a moment digesting what was just said. “Nigga what?”

“Man yes or no, fuck you making shit difficult.” Chris said slightly annoyed and before Duke could think about what he was nodding his head in agreement.

“Bet, ima drop you a lo tonight around 9 ish. Ima take her to dinner and ill leave the key underneath the mat just go in to the bedroom and wait ight.” Chris said excitedly.

“Ight man, fuck.” Duke agreed standing up.

“Real shit, thank you man. I knew I could count on you.” Chris said standing up and pulling Duke into a hug.

“Yeah, of course.” Duke said hugging the other man back.

With a smile Chris pulled away and walked out of the older mans room leaving only him and his thoughts together.

→

Go inna bathroom we finna be in

Duke stared at the text as he sat on the blue bed. When he had got the location from Chris he had just woken up from a nap and had to hurry to shower and get dressed and drive to the apartment. He was scared that there would be someone else in it but he was glad to see that the only other occupant was a small dog.

He pushed himself up off of the edge of the bed and entered the bathroom. Just as he did he heard the front door click open and a string of giggles coming from who he could only presume was you.

“Chris, what the fuck did you do?” He heard you say still giggling as you two got close to the door.

“Nothing, just keep yo eyes closed ok.” He heard his friend say as the bedroom door creaked open.

“Fine.” He heard you huff as you sat on the bed.

“Ok ima just put this on you so I know you aint gone peek ok baby.” Chris said.

“Alright.” You giggled.

A few moments passed and soon the door opened to expose Duke standing in the bathroom grinning ear to ear.

‘Sit right there’ Chris mouthed pointed to the grey velvet chair in the front of the room. Duke gave him a thumbs up and slowly walked to the chair careful not to make any noise, a certain anxious feeling making its way into his stomach- excitement disguised as anxiety really.

“Ok babygirl don’t take off your blind fold until I tell you ok.” Chris said creeping closer to you.

“Ok daddy.” You said voice quieter than before Duke noted mentally. He could finally get a good look at you for the first time too and he wanted to congratulate Chris, he did good. He could tell you were tiny, at least in comparison to the two of them just by the way your feet dangled as you sat on the edge of the bed. He could also see your thick thighs as they were on display by your shorts, and he couldn’t help but smirk at the sight. You looked good and honestly if you weren’t with Chris he would try to make you one of his.

Chris sat down beside you and pulled you into his lap positioning his dick right in the crevasse of your ass and your back to his chest. “You ready love.” He whispered in your ear before peppering kissing along your neck. His eyes locked with his friends for a moment before they started looking back at you.

You only moan in response tilting your head back and arching your back a little pushing your ass into his dick even more. Duke drinks up the sight, shifting in his seat as he sees his friends hand slide in your shorts and begin massaging your pussy.

“Daddy take them off please.” You beg spreading your legs apart to give him better access.

Chris silently obliges and swiftly removes them leaving you only in a gray thong. Dukes breath hitched as he say the wet spot right on your pearl. He shifted his hips up and legs apart as he began to feel himself hardening at the sight. It was so lewd, but so sexy.

He watched as Chris’ long digits began to rub circles right in the wet spot and the fabric sank within your folds- his lips still nipping at your neck all the while.

“Daddy, stop teasing me.” You whined, hands gripping his wrists.

“Tell me what you want mama, use your words.” He murmured into your neck, large hands rising to grip at your breast.

“Fuck me, eat me, anything.” You say breathlessly.

Chris smirks as he begins to tug the end of the fitted top you had on slipping it over your head, careful not to pull the mask off along with it exposing your breast. Duke took a sharp breath at the sight feeling himself becoming harder by the moment.

“You want daddy to fuck you baby?” Chris asked lowly in your ear his own length nudging at your ass.

“Yes please.” You pleaded, pussy throbbing as he was still rubbing slow circles through your underwear.

Wordlessly Chris lifts you from his lap just to slip his shorts down to release his dick and you can now feel it against your ass. He slides your panties to the side finally exposing your slick, aching pussy. Duke becomes restless at the sight and feels like this surprise for you is somehow punishment for him. He wants to glide his fingers through your folds and watch as you lick your juices off of them, but he is imprisoned to the chair in front of you.

Chris rubs himself through your folds basking in the slickness of your clit coating his tip before he finally positions himself with your entrance and slowly lowers your down onto him. Your breath hitching as he finally fully gets to a halt, the entire length buried inside of your wetness.

“Fuck.” The younger man mutters closing his eyes briefly to bask in the bliss.

At these words you slowly begin to grind on him and Dukes eyes become transfixed on your breast that bounce during this motion. He can’t help as his hand goes down to palm himself through the sweats. Chris notices this and grins. He grabs your hips and begins thrusting into you.

“Ah fuck, daddy.” You cry out, reaching back to find his body.

“ You like that baby?” Chris questions.

“I love it daddy!” You cry out.

As the words spill out of your mouth Chris without a second thought reaches up and takes off the fabric that was covering your eyes. As your eyes adjust to your renewed sense, you immediately lock eyes with the man in front of you and gasp.

“You like it huh baby, this what you wanted aint it?” Chris is the one to speak first and honestly it is turning him on too. He never expected that having one of his closest friends or anyone for that matter watching him in such an intimate setting as this would give him this kind of thrill, but it did. He wanted to bend you over and offer Duke your mouth as a sign of gratitude, but this was more than enough for the moment.

Your mouth is open, but words aren’t able to come out as you stare at the man in front of you. His lips were slightly parted as his hand gripped his own length through his sweatpants, and you were able to see the diamonds that were in his mouth. His high cheekbones and chocolate skin were illuminated perfectly in the lighting from the room, and you couldn’t deny that he was handsome.

Chris hand gripping your throat bought you back to reality and you let out a loud cry as he pulled you into the bed and pushed your head down into the blanket. Duke breathed heavily as he spotted thesmall cherry tattoo on your right cheek and snaked his hand underneath his waistband pulling himself out.

“Answer me baby.” Chris says again, snaking a hand around your neck “Aint this what you wanted.”

“Y-yes, this is what I wanted daddy.” You moan, as he slams into you.

“What you supposed to say? “He growls voice low.

“Thank you.” You say your voice barely above a whisper.

“I cant fucking hear you baby, what you say?” He asks again hips snapping into yours, sending ripples throughout your ass.

“I said thank you daddy.” You cry as you grip the sheets in attempts to brace yourself as he continues to assault your cunt.

“And what you wanna say to Duke?”

The older of the two perks up as he hears his friend finally mention his name.

Your eyes low and full of need bore into his tight ones and you moan. “T-thank you Duke.” You moan out.

Dukes tempo increases as he continues to stroke himself and for the first time since he has been here he spoke, voice low and full of lust, “Ya welcome gorgeous.”

Chris continues his assault of you and Duke continues to watch, transfixed on the sight in front of him and unable to take his eyes away even if that was what he desired. He wanted you, and in some small part of his mind he wanted to be with yall. He wanted to add to this dynamic of dominance and create his own role in your life. He wanted to see you underneath him just as you were with Chris, he wanted to be the one to taste you on his lips, to kiss you, to squeeze you. He wanted you more than anything right now, but Chris. He had the upmost respect for his friend, afterall if not for him he would have not been able to witness you and all your glory.

“You hear that baby,” Chris voice broke him away from his thoughts, “He said youre gorgeous. He thinks you look gorgeous like this- ass up, pussy full of my dick”

Duke now took a little time to admire his friend, and he was beyond surprised. He never took Chris as one to be this vocal ever, but here it seemed as though he was the shining star, leading you with his words and actions and everything that you did was as an extension of him.

“Y-yes daddy, I heard him” You whine, “Thank you Duke.”

Duke cant help but float at how effortlessly his name tumbles from your lips.

“You gone be a good girl and squirt for daddy and Duke?” Chris says feeling his climax nearing, and reaching his arm around and fingers beginning to massage your clit.

You cant help the loud whines that escape your mouth as he stimulates your center eyes locked on the man in front of you stroking himself vigorously to the tempo of you and Chris, lip between his glistening teeth.

“Yeah that’s it baby I feel it squirt on daddy dick and show Duke what a good girl you are.” Chris grunts his breath getting quicker as he feels himself closer and closer to his release.

Your body goes limp and a mixture of cries and huffs escape your mouth as you feel the man behind you pull out and attaches his mouth to your clit sucking as you squirt all over his face. He only stops when you go limp and fall onto the bed to reinsert his dick and pound you like a madman chasing his own climax.

Your eyes shoot to Dukes as you hear a struggled grunt escape his mouth as his hand and hoodie become painted with white stripes.

“Fuck.” You hear Chris cry as you feel his dick twitch within your walls and his warm cum fills your insides. His strokes are small as he fucks you through his release. Once he’s done he collapses onto your side, arm on your ass as he rubs circles into it.

Exhaustion washes over you like a tide and you feel your eyes become low and your mind clouded. Chris takes a few moment to catch his breath before sliding off the bed and walking in the bathroom taking a quick look at his friend as he did so.

“Hey, ima run her a bath if you wanna wait till I get her in I can get a rag and some of my sweatpants.” He offers his friend.

“Type shit, preciate it.” Duke agrees grateful.

As Chris begins to walk off he looks back at the older of the pair and grins, “That shit was good wasn’t it, I was killing her shit.”

Duke cant help the laugh that escapes his lips. “Hell yeah nigga you did yo shit.”

“On God nigga but say next time you gotta join that shit had her ass wet as fuck.”

Duke couldn’t help but smile “Type shit, next time.”

yall like it?? i felt like i finally got back in my element lmk what yall think!

[justsomerandom-nerd]

Alfred taught Bruce how to drive and it was the worst experience of his life. He had less of a heart attack when Bruce decided to fight crime dressed like a furry.

Bruce tried to teach Dick but backed out after the car ended up wrapped around a tree. Dick was only fourteen but come on Bruce, you let me fight crime on a school night but you won’t teach me how to drive.

Alfred picked up the slack and within a couple weeks, Dick was a better driver than half of Gotham. There are no traffic laws in Gotham, so it’s not hard, per se.

Jason had the best understanding of how a car worked. He could barely reach the brake, but he could Hotwire a car in ten seconds flat and Alfred didn’t ask questions. Still, he needed hours to get his license, and Bruce wouldn’t just sign the form. (No Jason, driving the Batmobile doesn’t count.) He didn’t really need any guidance, he never so much as blew a stop light, and it was really just an excuse for them to talk. Jason died before he was old enough to get his license, but he had more than enough hours. Alfred has the log, crumpled and faded, stuffed in a box under his bed, signed, alongside Jason’s forgotten drivers permit. It’s got a little heart on it, he was a donor.

Tim learned to drive from Jack Drake, and Alfred almost regrets not getting to teach him. It was something he wanted to bond with him over. But then Tim goes to Alfred, sheepishly, can you teach me to drive standard? It only takes a couple sessions, and Alfred has a heart attack when they roll backwards, but they get a laugh out of it after. Tim’s not half bad at it, after all.

Steph is no protege. She never has been. Her mom is too shakey to drive, still recovering, and her dad, well it’s hard to teach a kid to drive from blackgate. She won’t ask Tim, he’s only fifteen, and Bruce she despises. But she needs hours and she needs someone to sign her log. Alfred agrees, a little hesitant, but hey, she needs help. It’s the first chance he gets to know her. They make a sudden stop, and her arm curls around her stomach, scared for a child that hasn’t been born. At some point she says, some days I have to stop myself from buying a car seat. I know if I did, I wouldn’t be able to let go.

Cass comes next, and it’s not like she’s never driven before. She’s just never driven with rules before. She blows past stop signs with shakey apologies, but he never yells. It takes her a couple days to get used to not driving like she’s in a high speed chase, and when she does, it’s so relaxing. She drives Alfred around Gotham on errands and they go out to lunch, and even when she has her license they make it a thing. She’s his only granddaughter after all, why shouldn’t they?

Duke isn’t half bad. Alfred shows him the ropes, and he’s a little more nervous than the others. Duke makes less mistakes, and finally, he relaxes. He points out places around Gotham he knows from being a kid living in the city, and Alfred hears how lovingly he speaks about it. They drive a lot at night since Duke patrols during the day, and Gotham at night is a very different story. It’s more alive. And Duke knows the streets like the back of his hand, because it’s his city. He belongs there, just as much as he belongs with the rest of the Waynes.

Damian is a difficult story. He’s known how to drive since he was a literal child, so he’s understandably pissed when Bruce still makes him get practice hours off the vigilante clock. Dick is conveniently stuck in Bludhaven, and Damian simply wants to get it done as soon as possible. Alfred is his second choice, the only person he can think of spending forty unbearable hours driving with. It’s quite pleasant, Alfred lets him pick the music and they bond over a love of classical music. Alfred’s errands take excruciatingly long but after, they grab lunch, and oh why don’t we stop and see the knew exhibit at the Gotham Art Museum. Damian spends hours ranting about his siblings and Bruce, and Alfred tells him stories of how insufferable Bruce was as a child.

(I just think it’d be funny if Bruce was like, I know you could drive at 11 but you should probably get your required hours in out of costume, but I’m busy and you’re grandpa wants to spend time with you)