#I always feel a bit bad that I tend to hop on

[salemssimblr]

This is so well-said and such a good exercise! I'll be doing the same moving forward.

maybe i'm wrong about this but i feel like we don't take seriously enough how little comments on a post can change someone's entire day. of course we don't have to comment on everything everytime but if we all did it a little more i'm sure the community would be waaay more fun and enjoyable. the amount of incredible posts i see that have literally no comments is just baffling me. i consider myself really lucky to have this kind of interactions on my blog, and i try my best to pass it on, but my comments are just tiny drops in the ocean of countless lonesome posts, and i feel genuinely sad about it. if anyone comments something i've made from now on i've decided i'll do the same for them! it's just common online courtesy and i think that everyone here needs a great deal of warmth and appreciation ♡

[yaksha-lover]

It Will Come Back

Summary: You take in an injured fox, nursing it back to health. It keeps coming back, some times more human-like than others.

Kitsune!Malleus Draconia x Reader

cw: very minor description of blood/gore, mentioned wild animal death, minor suggestive jokes, starts out a little spooky (or so i tried) but inevitably becomes wholesome-ish, pls ignore typos i’m too tired to proof-read

The fox you find by the riverside isn’t like any you’ve seen before. His fur is so dark that it takes a moment for you to even notice the wet blood matting the left side of his rib cage.

The sight of an injured animal is all too common for you. Living far from any big towns means there’s hardly any available treatment for them. Your neighbour, the only other living person around here, always dismisses your worries about the poor creatures, telling you that it’s only the circle of life.

As much as you know he’s right, your bleeding heart insists on taking the black fox home, if only for him to have some comfort in his last moments. You know he won’t survive the journey to town; he may not have the hours necessary to get there.

He’s large for a fox, too. You consider calling your neighbour to help, but you know he’ll only roll his green eyes at your pleas. Instead, you lift him into a wheelbarrow as gently as you can, and pull him back to your small cottage.

He whimpers a little as you move him, but his eyes remain closed. When you arrive, you transport him carefully to the makeshift bed you’ve put together, piles of blankets you hope will be enough to keep him warm and comfortable.

When you come back with water and some medical supplies, the fox opens one eye. It’s strangely eerie, the way he stares at you as you approach. His lime gaze is intense and focused, almost as though he’s trying to examine you, peeling away your skin with his eyes. You shake off the feeling, knowing you’re probably overthinking things.

He’s only an animal, after all.

The fox remains silent as you clean his wounds. Thankfully, they don’t seem as bad as you initially suspected. It’s strange - there seemed to be so much blood before, the wound was practically gushing. Was it a trick of the light?

You must be tired from your long day of foraging; now you’re seeing things.

You leave him wrapped in bandages and huddled in blankets to rest for the night.

-

The next morning, you awake to a warmth at your side. It’s been getting a bit colder, but even your blankets don’t tend to run this hot. You pop an eye open and panic for a moment at the fluffy black mass curled up beside you. You giggle to yourself when you realize what’s happened.

“How’d you get up here, little fox? I thought you’d feel too ill to move.”

The fox raises his head at the noise, tilting it as you speak. You offer him your hand, and he sniffs it, before moving his head to be cupped in your extended palm.

“I’m just glad you’re okay. Make yourself at home,” you say, petting him gently between the ears. He closes his eyes and settles into your touch.

As you get up to begin your day, you expect him to stay curled up in your sheets. Instead, he hops off the bed, suddenly wide awake, and prances happily behind you into the kitchen, no sign of the injury he suffered just last night.

Questions run through your mind, unease playing in your stomach. It’s all so bizzare, but you try to settle the anxiety. Why question a good thing, no matter how strange?

-

“What should I call you, little guy? I don’t want to keep calling you ‘the fox.’”

He stares at you, green eyes narrowed softly as he takes a seat on your couch, making himself at home by cuddling into the cushions. The seating is already worn down, but either way, you wouldn’t care much about where he sat.

“Hmm, how about Tsunotarou? Your ears are so pointy, they almost look like little horns!”

He raises his head to look at you, as though he understands. You smile back at him, mooning over his cuteness and reaching a hand out to pet him. You hover your hands over his head, waiting for his go ahead.

You beam when he pushes his head up into your hand, petting enthusiastically but remaining gentle for his sake.

You’re interrupted by a knock at the door. There’s only one person who ever comes over, so it’s no surprise to hear the voice of your neighbour ring out in the silence.

“Oi, open the door, herbivore. What’s all this blood outside your home?”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s not mine,” you call from inside. You walk to the door, letting him in. “I…made another rescue attempt.”

He gives you a look that screams ‘seriously’. “Another failure then? I don’t know why you do this to yourself.”

“Actually, Leona, this one was a success. Check my couch before you doubt me so fast.”

Leona pushes you gently away from the doorway so he can come in, and peeks around the corner.

The expression on his face morphs from surprise to confusion to disappointment. Leona sighs. “You didn’t…”

“Didn’t what? Save a life? Clearly, I did. Although, I’ll admit Tsunotarou wasn’t in such bad shape, so maybe I didn’t do too much of the work. But still, you can stop calling me silly for wanting to try-”

“Tsunotarou??” Leona stares at the fox. He stares back and almost seems…amused? Strange, your fox certainly was expressive and clever. “Ugh, this is too much for me to deal with. You’re an adult, you can handle it. I’m just going to leave these here.”

Leona drops a bag of meat on the counter. It was part of your usual trade; he’d give you part of his hunt, and you’d give him part of what you grew in your garden.

“No one asked you to help deal with him? What do you mean…”

Leona ignores your questioning, heading out of your kitchen and stopping as he passes by the couch where Tsunotarou still lays, watching. He turns to face him.

“Don’t hurt them. I’ll be checking in again soon, so no tricks, or else you’ll be dealing with me.”

“Did you just threaten my rescue fox?”

He ignores you once again, only pausing briefly in the doorway to leave you with a final warning.

“Scream if you need help.” With that, Leona is off, probably back to his cottage across the field.

You’re left confused, but Leona rarely cares to let you in on what he’s thinking, so you try your best to just ignore his words. There’s a prick of fear in the back of your mind, though, because Leona is never serious, but his warning certainly seemed to be.

No, he’s just been talking nonsense. How could the sweet angel on your couch be any threat? Tsunotarou had cuddled up to you just this morning.

You finally turn back to him. He’s watching you. Again. With a slight head tilt this time, his dark ears standing straight, as though he’s curious. You approach the fox to sit beside him on the couch. Once you begin your soft pets, he places his head into your lap.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Big bad Leona won’t hurt you. I don’t know what’s up with him today. He’s probably just spooked from all the dead animals that have been showing up around the area. I mean, what does he expect, we live in the woods.”

Tsunotarou picks himself up from the couch. You expect him to jump off, maybe even try to escape through the door. Instead, he plants himself fully in your lap, curling up into a tight little ball.

Even the overwhelming cuteness of the situation is too much for you to ignore how strange it is. As you stroke your hand across his fur once again, you wonder how this wild fox could be so tame. Was he someone’s pet once? He had no collar, but he could’ve been lost years ago.

With the warmth of the fox in your lap, it’s easy to drift off to sleep for a quick nap.

-

Tsunotarou’s gone when you wake up. At first you think he’s just gone off to explore the house, but you’ve checked every room and he’s nowhere to be found. Which would normally be fine (he is a wild animal after all, he deserves to be where he belongs) except for the fact that no doors nor windows were open or broken. Tsunotarou had disappeared with no explanation.

-

You awaken to a familiar warmth, the brush of something soft against your bare legs.

“Were you hiding somewhere Tsunotarou?” You smile, eyes still closed as you snuggle against- skin?

“Not hiding. I had some business to attend to.”

Your eyes pop open as whatever is in your bed circles its arms around you, letting out a scream as two very human eyes stare back at you. You scramble out of its hold.

“What the hell?! Who are you? Get out of my bed!”

He pouts. “You just said yourself, I’m Tsunotarou.”

“No, Tsunotarou is a-” It’s only then you take notice of the dark ears poking out of his head and the three tails swaying behind him. “How did you- never mind, just get out of my bed first! Who told you you could be there?”

He steps out from your sheets, thankfully clothed in a loose black kimono. “My apologies. Children of man have changed much since I last spoke to one. I did not realize I would alarm you with my presence in this form.”

“So what, you’re some kind of monster?”

Malleus frowns. “I prefer the term creature. Monster suggests something…wicked.”

“Alright, creature then.” You narrow your eyes. “What kind?”

He approaches you and ruffles your hair, sharp claws dragging gently against your scalp before you have the chance to pull away. “Surely you can guess by my form. Have you truly never encountered a kitsune before?”

“A kitsune? I thought they were only tales told by bored grandparents.”

“I’m a mori kitsune, so it’s understandable you’ve never seen my kind before. But it’s likely you’ve met a different kind of kitsune who prefers the more…urban spaces that children of man typically occupy.”

“You don’t like being around humans?”

He hums. “I wouldn’t say that’s true. Rather, the opposite seems to be the case. Most children of man find me…unsettling, despite my best efforts.” He makes eye contact, a small smile appearing on his face. “But not you. You took care of me.”

“When…when I thought you were a fox.”

“Technically, I am still a fox,” he says cheekily.

You glare weakly, but your ire doesn’t seem to break his good mood.

-

You’re out gathering herbs for dinner when you spot it. A trickle of deep red, so dry it almost looks brown, which builds into a streak across the ground, as though whatever left it behind was dragged as it thrashed.

Although you know you live in a forest full of wild animals, the scenes you’ve come across recently have been…odd. Brutal. As though whatever’s been killing and eating the animals has a strangely horrifying way of committing the act, leaving behind carnage, but never a body.

You force yourself to shake off the unsettling feeling and return back home once you’re done.

-

“Hello, my dear.”

You jump slightly at the voice. Tsunotarou sits on your couch when you return. You’d asked him to leave the previous day, after your long bouts of questioning left you exhausted and unable to deal with all the information. He seems to have returned to reclaim the same place he occupied as a fox. You don’t bother asking how he got in.

“Hello…Tsunotarou? It feels strange to keep calling you that made up name…do you plan to offer your own?” you ask as you put away the things you’d gathered in your cupboards.

He waits for a moment to respond, considering your words. “I suppose I can, although I do not mind your other name for me. You may call me Malleus, if you wish.”

“Malleus, huh. Why do I feel like I’ve heard your name before?”

“Perhaps in another lifetime, you spoke it often,” his smile grows as you turn around and look at him skeptically. “Just jesting, of course.”

You roll your eyes when you turn around. He’s certainly made himself comfortable with you; you can’t really say the same, considering how long you’ve known each other.

Still, you’re so unsettled by what you’ve been seeing for the past few weeks, you risk allowing him to believe you’re closer than you are to have someone to talk to about it.

“You wander out in the woods at night, right? Have you seen the blood and…things, left behind by something?”

His reply is delayed, but you barely take notice. “Yes, I have.”

“Isn’t it disturbing? I just keep thinking, what’s moved into the forest to do something like that, like it’s some kind of performance of torment instead of an animal eating to survive.”

Malleus only hums, offering you no comfort. “I never considered that.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. You start on dinner, and he seems content to watch you from the couch. Since he’s already here, you offer to make a larger portion so he can have some as well.

“Thank you, but I’ve already dined today,” he replies.

It’s only once you’ve finished cooking and have settled into your kitchen table that Malleus makes his way from the couch to occupy the seat across from you.

You’re halfway through your soup when a question forms in your head.

“Malleus, how did you get hurt when I found you?” You look up at him, his green eyes finding yours.

Another pause before he answers. “It was a mere tussle with a…friend.”

“A friend did that to you? I thought you were going to die?!”

“Well, perhaps he would not consider me a friend. And while your concern is certainly endearing, I was in no true danger. Did you happen to notice how fast my wounds healed?”

“I guess I did…” Although it raises the question why he’s so insistent on clinging to you when you barely did anything to care for him, let alone save his life. “Your friend…where is he now?”

“Across the field. What children of man call ‘your neighbour’.”

“Leona? Leona did that to you? How is that even possible, I thought kitsune are infinitely stronger than humans?”

“Is that what he told you?” Malleus drawls.

“No, you’re the one who told me…what do you mean?”

He sighs in understanding. “Never mind, I suppose that is his business to tell you.”

“To tell me what?”

“Why don’t you pay your ‘friend’ a visit? It seems you have some things to discuss.”

-

Leona answers within a few seconds of your knocking, standing in the doorframe. When you stare at him without saying anything, his tail starts swishing in discomfort. Since when has he had a tail?

“You need something, herbivore? That little fox causing you trouble?”

You ignore his question. “Can I come in?”

He doesn’t reply, swinging the door open and stepping out of the way. You take off your shoes at the door and head into his living room.

“Make yourself at home, I guess,” he grumbles, following you.

You turn around to face him. “Why did you hurt Malleus? How do you even know a kitsune?”

“‘Malleus,’ is he now? What happened to Tsunotarou?”

“I didn’t know he wasn’t just a fox, okay? You didn’t tell me, but apparently you knew this whole time?”

He looks away from you. “I figured the problem would resolve itself. Kitsune aren’t exactly known for sticking around humans. Unfortunately, it seems he’s taken an interest in you.”

“And you fought him? Do you have a death wish? There’s no way a human could take on a kitsune!”

“I’m not- never mind. Let’s just say I was in an…altered state of mind. Wasn’t thinking clearly. Can we leave it at that?”

“That’s all you’re going to give me? No explanation for why you attacked him? Are you responsible for all the brutal animal killings too?”

Leona rolls his eyes. “You’re accusing me? Like you don’t already know how those happened.”

“What?”

“You can’t be serious. Are you really this obtuse?”

“Just spit it out, Leona.

“Malleus is the one who eats them, idiot. He’s a fox who likes to play with his prey”

“But- his fox form is petite? How is that possible?”

Leona rolls his eyes. “He can go from fox to human but that’s your concern? He’s magic and a trickster, so don’t believe everything your senses tell you.”

-

You think Malleus has left by the time you return from Leona’s, but he’s really made himself at home in your bedroom instead. You don’t bother addressing it yet.

“Why did you lie to me?”

His eyes look up from his book. Your book. “I have never lied to you, child of man.”

“Leona told me the truth! I know you’re the one who’s been killing those poor animals. How can I trust you, no, feel safe around you after you lied, and did…all that.”

“Your ‘neighbour’ is just the same as me. Do you no longer trust him as well?”

You sit down beside him on the bed. “Leona’s a kitsune?”

Malleus chuckles. “No. He has lied to you, though. He is not human but wolf. He hunts, just the same as I do. He just happens to be better at cleaning up his messes, I suppose.”

“I…I guess that makes sense. But that’s different. I know Leona, he’s my friend. And he doesn’t torment his prey.”

Malleus’ ears sag and he pouts. “I believed we were friends as well. We dined together. I slept in your bed.”

“When I thought you were an animal! Now you’re somebody else.”

“I am the same. It wounds me terribly that you’d change your opinion of me based on my appearance.” He sighs. “I suppose it’s only natural. Others often judge me quickly as well.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. “You know it’s not like that. If I’d met you like this, I wouldn’t have…”

“Wouldn’t have treated me so kindly?”

“No, I just…I don’t know how it is for you kitsune, but for humans, sharing a bed is…”

“Intimate?” he offers. “I am aware. I simply believed you were enamoured with me. ‘Love at first sight,’ isn’t that what children of man like to say?”

“You were a fox,” you deadpan.

“And now, I am human. Primarily.” His ear twitches. “I know now that changes things, but perhaps it is for the better? There’s many things I’ve yet to try in this form, and now I have my own child of man to teach me. Delightful, isn’t it?”

“Hm, I guess so. You can’t sleep with me, though.”

He tilts his head. “In what sense?”

You try to flick him on the forehead but he stops you, linking his hand with your own instead. “Do you even know how- uh-”

He laughs. “Yes, I am aware how children of man mate.”

“Never mind, we’ve gotten off track.” You glare at him. “I’m still angry with you.”

“I am aware. I find your flushed look quite compelling.”

“I wish you hadn’t lied to me.”

“Technically, I hadn’t. You never asked if it was I who killed them.” He shakes his head. “Kitsune must eat, but I would have never done so in that manner, if I had known it would be upsetting to you. I haven’t since our conversation, and I will not going forward, I promise you, dear child of man.”

“You’d do that? For me?”

“Of course. Anything for you, my darling.”

“But why? I’ve barely done anything for you?”

“You offered me kindness, which is in short supply for kitsune. And I find I quite like your abode.” He moves closer, catching your chin in his hand and turning you to face him. “I would enjoy spending more time here, if it would be permissible to you?”

“I guess that would be okay…but no funny business.”

His lips twitches. “None at all.”

-

Despite his inexperience with humans, Malleus learns how to settle into your life well. Tonight, he’s even insisted on cooking for you. He’s been practicing for a while, so you’re intrigued to finally try what he’s prepared.

As he plates the food in front of you, the smell wafts until you’re practically drooling. You catch him with a self-satisfied smile from the corner of your eye, as he watches you feast on the food he’s made for you.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asks.

“Yes, it’s very good, thank you.”

“The pleasure is all mine.”

Once the two of you finish your food, you take a seat beside one another on the couch. Malleus pulls out a small pouch. “I have something for you, my child of man.”

“A gift? You didn’t have to, Malleus.”

“I wished to. Now please, present me your hand.”

He takes your hand gently into his grip and straps on a stunning silver bracelet. It’s slim, but engraved with symbols, each segment a different kind.

“Thank you, Mal. I love it. Where did you get it, all the way out here?”

“I have had it in my possession for a very long time. Centuries, perhaps. It holds a protection spell from a strong mage. It will protect you, as you once protected me.”

You don’t know what to say, so you turn to hug him instead. You throw your arms around Malleus, squeezing him. It takes no longer than a moment for him to squeeze back.

It’s an hour later, once you’re in the middle of a game of chess, that Malleus speaks while moving his pawn.

“Do children of man desire life mates? I’ve observed, you live all by your lonesome.”

“A partner? Yeah, but not many options living out here.” You move your knight.

“Surely, there are some you might consider.” He moves another pawn.

“Nah, I’m not interested in Leona like that.”

“I did not mean the wolf. Someone a bit closer to yourself. Perhaps in this very room.”

“If you want to say something, you should say it. Humans prefer that.”

“Duly noted. Child of man, I desire to be your mate.”

-

The next time Leona comes to drop off your exchange of goods, he enters without announcing himself and accidentally gets an eyeful of you and Malleus making out on your couch.

“Leona! Knock much?!”

“Hello, Kingscholar.”

“Draconia.”

You shift your eyes between the two of them. It’s not exactly tense, but there seems to be no love lost between them.

Leona turns back to you. “So, you’re shacking up with him now?” His face scrunches up. “Do I need to prepare myself for little hybrid brats running around here sometime soon?”

“Says you, Mister I-forgot-to-mention-I’m-a-werewolf.”

Leona snickers. “I didn’t forget, I just didn’t feel like telling you. Humans can be annoying about those kinds of things.” He glances back to Malleus at your side. “Guess I didn’t have to worry about that, huh?”

“They are more kind than most humans, to be sure.”

“Right, and you’re not just saying that because you’ve been scr-”

“Leona!” you cut him off. “Thank you for bringing the meat. Your veggies and herbs are on the counter in the brown bag.”

He grabs his things and heads out the door, pausing to drop one last cheeky comment: “I guess if I hear you screaming, I shouldn’t worry this time. Maybe just for your legs.”

Malleus chuckles. “I will be gentle.”

“Hey, don’t enable him!”

-

A/N: Inspired by Hozier’s “It Will Come Back” !!!

don’t let me in with no intention to keep me / jesus christ, don’t be kind to me / honey, don’t feed me, it will come back ~

[peachyscenes]

perv!ateez thoughts

note: this isn’t an actual representation of ateez. all for fun, just some thoughts. gender neutral reader. MDNI!

reblogs appreciated!!

—————

perv!hongjoong doesn’t mean to perv on you. ‘it’s natural!’ he thinks to himself when he envisions how you’d look underneath him. he just likes you so much, he can’t help but squint a bit whenever you’re wearing a white shirt. or when a bit of your underwear is showing. just seeing a tiny bit of the band sends his blood to his cock and he has to excuse himself to the bathroom to jerk-off to the vision of you stripping for him.

this isn’t the first time he sees you in your pool. this also isn’t the first time perv!seonghwa uses this opportunity to try to get a peak at your almost naked body. your bathing suit hugs you so well too. he thinks he's in heaven when you unravel the towel from your body. he groans as he sees you climb out of your pool, all in your wet glory. he almost cums in his pants when you decide to lounge on one of your pool chairs. and you're still wet. the light of the sun only doing you justice as it makes your skin glow. if he runs upstairs for his telescope, he's certain he can be able to see more of your assets.

he has your minutes counted and perv!yunho knows that at any second you're going to walk through your bedroom door with a towel wrapped around. you tend to take quick showers, which is why yunho has to hurry when he knows your soccer practices are over. he fist pumps the air when he sees that he beat you. his bedroom window faced yours and if he opened his curtains enough, he could see you. and then you enter your bedroom. he grows hard seeing your naked body once you unravel your towel. he notices your body lotion and makes note to buy the same one so he knows what you smell like.

perv!yeosang feels ashamed. not for having a crush on you, his roommate, but for listening in when you masturbate. it's to the point where he has your schedule for your "personal sessions" memorized. he can't help himself though! he just wants you so, so, so bad. tonight is another one of your sessions and like a moth to a lamp, he's outside your door. your moans are so sweet. you're very vocal and that's something that he's always appreciated about you, especially since he's more reserved. perv!yeosang stand outside your door, turned on, and wonders if you'd be a vocal if he were there. he wondered if you wouldn't mind taking the lead.

i have to stop he thinks to himself. you're going to notice soon and he's pretty sure that you're going to know immediately. i mean, the poor boy can't even lie properly. perv!san feels like he's on a top secret mission whenever you decide to hop in the shower. he's your best friend, but is this what best friends do? stealing each other's underwear? in his defense, you just smell so good. he especially likes your underwear that you've worn for more than 2 days. quickly, he stashes them into his pocket before sitting on your sofa like he didn't just steal your underwear to smell and jerk off to later from your dirty clothes bin.

perv!mingi seems like he's a sweet guy. and he is! he'll stand behind you going up the stairs or the escalators when you're at the mall. he'll offer hospitality jacket if you feel too cold in your outfit. he'll even compliment your shirt. but if you catch him at the right time, he's staring at your ass. or slightly touching the skin of your exposed midriff. or staring at your chest, especially if you have on a tight fitted shirt. deep down, mingi wants you to catch him, that way he can drop his little nice guy act and show you what he really wants to do to you.

feeding you is his favorite thing. perv!wooyoung just loves getting food with you. it doesn't matter if it's take out or at home, he's going to stuff you. he also wonders if the way you let him feed you, you'd let him stuff your mouth with his own cock. if the way you'd hum at new flavors is how you would hum at the taste of him on your tongue. wooyoung wants you to taste him and everything about him. he wants to give you the best of the best meals, and of course that includes him as well.

perv!jongho feels like such a teenage boy when he sees you during his gym time. today you're working on your legs and he feels himself drooling at your toned thighs. he almost moaned seeing the bit of sweat on your forehead and neck and he wondered if you would look the same if he was between your legs. he thanked whoever you believed in for your choice of clothing today too. shorts that really accentuated your ass and a compression shirt that made him almost bite his own tongue off.

[sturniolosangel]

jealous- chris sturniolo (18+)

warnings: use of pet names, choking, oral(m&f receiving), unprotected sex (plz wrap before u tap it), pulling hair, cremepie, lowkey dom chris bc lol also not proof read but enjoy

summary: chris and reader are best friends but will one halloween party change that?

i’m sitting in the car with the triplets and we’re playing smash or pass for there youtube channel. chris wouldn’t shut up about betty boop and how she was bad as fuck.

“chris that’s actually crazy we’re not talking literally” i say laughing at him from the backseat. nick then starts laughing as chris starts to defend himself. “i said what i said she bad” i roll my eyes and tell matt to go to the next one.

“smash or pass.. steve harrington from stranger things” matt said looking at me and nick. i look to matt an smile as i speak “smash 100% he could” before i could finish chris spoke “i thought this wasn’t literal” i closed my mouth holding in my laugh. “i don’t care smash all day everyday” i said while the boys mouths were wide open.

as the video ended matt drove back to their apartment. we arrived as i got out the car and wrapped my arms around chris pulling him into a hug since him and matt just argued. he hugged back and took a deep breath in as he wrapped his arms around my waist. “come on it’s alright” i say grabbing his hand dragging him inside.

i walk to the kichen his hand still in mine as i sat next to nick and chris stood behind me while matt was getting a drink. “are we going to nessas halloween party? madi said shes going” nick says looking up from his phone. “i’m always down to get dressed up and i think i have a costume in mind” i spoke leaning back on the chair looking up at chris as he started speaking. “i think i have something in mind too” he looks down at me smiling.

chris grab a pepsi from the fridge as nick and matt both said their goodnights to us. “ready to go to bed i’m exhausted” i say tilting my head at chris as he shuts the fridge. “yeah i’m ready ma” chris said with a raspy voice. i bit my lip as he starts to walk upstairs while i follow behind.

he opens the door as i walk to his draw and got out some of my pajamas because i tend to stay here a lot i’ve know these boys for to long. l start to take off my pants and shirt leaving me in my underwear and bra. chris is sitting on the bed watching me as i look at him in the mirror he smirks at me as i put my head down blushing. i put just a baggy t-shirt on as i go to lay next to him.

i pull the blanket up on us as chris puts his head in my chest. i put my hand in his hair as i drifted off to sleep.

*the day of the party*

i facetime nick because he wanted to get ready on facetime. “heyy nick im actually so excited” i say smiling. “i know i haven’t been to a party in awhile so i’m a little nervous” he said back. “yes exactly i feel like im gonna look like such a slut” i speak as i pull my makeup out. “i promise you’ll look good if people think other wise they can fuck themselfs” nick said reassuring me. i laughed as i struggled to get out a thank you.

i finish my makeup as nick is putting on his costume. “nick i will see you in like 30 minutes i have to do my hair and put my dress on, and remember no showing me what you’re dressed as we all agreed to keep it a secret” i say. “i know i know see you in a bit” he said rolling his eyes sarcastically. “okayy i love uu” i said screaming into the phone. “i love you too” he screamed back. i hung up the phone as i started to play music.

i started to do my hair jamming out to my playlist chris created for me. as i finish my hair and slowly start to take all the pieces for my costume out of the box. i put my red dress on looking at myself in the mirror and turning around looking how good my body looked. i slipped on the red garter to my thigh an putt my heels on. i sent a text to nick letting him know i’ll be there soon.

i hopped in my car an started to drive to the place the party was being held turning up the radio. i pulled up as i looked around to see all the cars outside. i parked my car as i got out grabbing my purse walking to the door.

as i walked in i saw nessa and madi so i knew the triplets had to be here. i walked up to them. “you guys look so good” i said hugging them. “omg girl you are so hot” madi says pulling way. “thank you mads but do you know where the boys are?”i question. she point her fingers over to the kitchen. i nod my head as i say my goodbyes.

i slowly walk into the kitchen and i lock eyes with matt who’s jaw is on the floor as i put my finger to my lips telling him to shoosh because i wanted to surprise chris. before i could walk behind chris someone stopped me.

“hey how have you been!” i turned around to see who it was. it was an old friend of mine he went to my highschool. “where’s time gone you look so grown but i’m doing good how about you?” i ask looking up at him. i feel a stare behind but i choose to ignore it.

“i’m good it’s been so long since i’ve seen you and you look amazing” he spoke flirtatiously. my smile dropped realizing he was trying to make a move. “thank you it was nice seeing you” i said as i gave him a small hug as his hands wrapped around my waist but i pulled away right then and there.

i waved at him as i turned around my eyes met a very sexy steve harrington who has his jaw clenched. i walk my way over to the triplets and put my hands out giving a “surprise” look. “omg! you look actually so amazing” nick said pulling me into a hug. “mr harrington over here couldn’t stop looking at you” matt laughed as he pulled me into a hug as well.

i laugh as i pull away and make it to chris. his reaction changes as he takes me in looking me from top to bottom as he licks his lips. i look up to him with doe eyes as i put my hands around his neck pulling him into a hug. he wraps his hand right above my ass.

“like what you see mr harrington” i whisper in his ear as i pull away arms still wrapped around his neck. he looks down onto he as his hands slowly move down my ass. “i love what i see mrs betty boop” he whispers back.

i look to my left and realize nick and matt are gone i giggle as i turn back to chris. i grab his hand as i lead him outside where we can get away from everyone. “i can’t believe you dressed up as steve like i could kiss you right now” i said looking up at him. “why don’t you? … or do you want that other guy in there. he sure wanted a piece of you.” chris spoke with a tang of anger.

“why would i want him when i have you” i said licking my lips looking back and forth between his lips and eyes. he rises his hand to my cheek closing the gap between us connecting our lips. i wrap my hand in his hair slightly tugging as his hand moved from my face to my neck squeezing lightly.

i moaned against his lips as he slips his tounge into my mouth as we fought for dominance, him obviously winning. his other hand sliding down my dress kneading my ass in his hand. i tilt my head back as he replaced his hand with his lips on my neck.

“as much as i love and appreciate this outfit i need to get it off of you” chris looked down at me as i bit my lip. he grabbed my hand and ran to find an empty room. as we reach a room completely empty he shut the door and locked it connecting our lips once again.

my hands went under his shirt feeling his torso and chest as i pulled it over his head. he unzipped my dress as i step out of it his pants are tossed on the floor with it. i reach for my thigh to take my garter chris stops me. “leave it on” he spoke demanding. i nod my head as i slowly start to kneel on the ground.

chris groans from the way he doesn’t even need to tell you what to do. i pull down his boxers watching his hard dick bounce onto his torso. i pump him with my hand as he steps on out his boxers. “come on ma.. put that pretty mouth to use” he said putting his hand on my head not messing up my hair.

i reply with taking him in my mouth as he threw his head back with a moan. i started to bop my head up and down with his hand guiding me. “as much as i’m enjoying this i want to cum in that pretty pussy of yours” he spoke grabbing my hand pulling me up.

he reconnected our lips and picked me up. i wrapped my legs around him as he took me to the bed and laid me down. he started planting light bruises on my neck as he made his way down and unclipped my bra. “you’re the prettiest girl i’ve see in my life” he said hands groping my boobs.

i whine out at his actions as he tongue meets my nipples sucking. his hand reach farther down and get to my side as he pops of my nipple leaving kisses along my torso. i bring my hand down to move his hair so i could see his face.

he reached my pussy as he took my underwear an put it in his pocket as he opened my legs. my pussy on full display for me glistening from the light as he used two fingers to spread it open. “you’ve been hiding this beautiful thing from me” he spoke rubbing my clit.

i moan as my hand reaches farther into his hair almost tugging. “gonna be a good girl for me and let me eat you out.” he said putting a finger in me. my head titled back “yes i’ll be good.. just please chris” i desperately whispered.

he went in bringing his lips and tounge to my clit while pumping a finger in and out of me. i grip his hair as i roll my eyes back. he groans against me sending a vibration through my whole body.

he adds a second finger going a little faster this time as i moan out his name. “chris! .. fuck i’m bout to cum please!” i almost scream out. he pulls away from now taking his fingers out and rubbing my clit. “not yet baby i wanna fuck it out of you” i moan at his words as he towers over me.

he gives me a kiss before flipping me on my stomach so i’m face down ass up. he lets me get comfortable before slowly putting his dick in me. i groan against the pillow as his hands grip my hips. he sets a slow pace groaning while going in and out.

“god you’re so tight ma.. i’m gonna go a little faster now” he spoke. i nodded my head eagerly needing him to go faster. he rocked me back and forth against him as he’s hand came down to grip my hair. “fuck.. just like that chris!” i grip the sheets underneath my fingers.

“such a slut.. wanting me to be rough with you” he said tightening his hand that was in hair. “yes chris i’m your slut” i breathlessly spoke. “just mine” he whispered bringing me up so my back was against his chest. i turn my head to lock lips with him as one of us hands wrapped around neck and other around my torso keeping me stable.

all i could hear was unsteady moans, skin slapping, and the music faintly from downstairs. i cleached around him as he moans into my lips. i dragged my arm behind his head gripping a hold of him as he pounded into me. “shit chris! im not gonna last much longer” i spoke tilting my head back.

“it’s okay baby let it out i’m right behind ya” he said dragging his hand from my neck to my clit rubbing in circles. i close my eyes as my hand clings onto his hair slightly pulling. “oh god chris” i almost screamed out as i let myself go.

i clenched around him as my legs started to slight shake as he filled me up moaning in my ear. “what a good girl letting me just stuff you” he said letting me catch my breath. he pulled out and laid us down on the bed.

i was about to fall asleep until i heard nick scream “chris and y/n! where are you guys, we need to take pictures!” chris chuckled as he looked over to me putting his hand out so we could get up. i groan as i take his hand and get up tossing him his clothes.

i start to put my whole outfit on for a second time today as i looked up to see chris fully dressed behind me zipping up my dress. i smile at him as i turn around and kiss him. “come on ma wouldn’t want them waiting” he smirked as i nod my head. i look at myself in the mirror and surprisingly, my hair was still good, but my lipstick was ruined.

we walked outside the room with chris’s arm around my waist. “there you guys are come on we need to hurry” nick said smiling pulling us downstairs. i interlock my hands with chris as we walked to all of our friends.

if you want to be tagged lmk!

tags: @lustfulslxt @oversturn

[inkyquince]

It was just another shit day. A shit day stalked by a shit night. Bailey couldn't remember the last time he just existed, instead of just dragging himself place to place, trying to make money and not go insane while he did it. It was hard though.

cw. bitch stripper reader. rough sex, power bottom reader. violent bailey who doesn't give a fuck about sex workers. sex with no feelings outside of awe and hate. younger bailey. forced semi-submissive bailey but he's still a fucking asshole.

characters. bailey the caretaker. gn reader.

notes. happy new year. two days after my job laid off everyone who recently joined, i write about bailey being paycheck to paycheck and dominated by a stripper. excellent.

Half a year ago, the caretaker had thrown him out on his ass, with barely enough time to grab any of his shit. To be fair, he didn't have much anyway. He had to couch hop with his shit friends to start with, then made a bit more money to stay at the hotel. One shit hand trying to gamble with the guys with silver spoons shoved up their asses, and he was down most of his money. Lately he had just started living out of a car he stole. It hurt his back, he was always cold, but he had to just get through it. Then he'd buy a gun and shoot the old bastard in the gut. Not that he was harboring a grudge.

But right now, he had to ignore the sore throb of his lower back in favor of watching the strippers, sighing through his nose. The club paid like shit but the brothel didn't even want bouncers, no matter how many times he tried to talk Briar into paying him to be some muscle, at least for a little while. It was either this or bar-tend at the pub, and he didn't have the patience not to backhand a bitch for grabbing his ass. Funny that he was being paid to stop that from happening with the dancers.

Small mercies, Bailey wasn't one. His back was already hurting and trying to imagine pulling off those moves, twirling around the pole... Just the thought made his knees hurt.

Speaking of... There was a drunk guy who was two shots away from slobbering on your shoes. Or throwing up. Either way, you'd give him an earful about it.

Bitch.

Bailey never pretended he was likeable. His friends came from mutual interest in fucking others over, being a heavy hitter at the orphanage, or just a way to try and get in their pants. None of this came from him being a joy to be around. Didn't mean you got to have a fuckin' attitude towards him. The other dancers avoided him, or tried to bribe him to look the other way when taking customers around the back, which always worked. He never said no to an extra couple of quid, he wasn't an idiot.

But you didn't even give him the time of day, as if you weren't stripping for money, and he was your protection from being yanked off the pole and onto a cock. When Bailey was having a shit day, he wanted nothing more to smack some sense into you, make it clear that you might be a favourite in here, but out on the streets? He was a few drinks from grabbing your neck from behind and forcing you into an alley, pimp you out and leave you in the gutter... But he'd get fired. Yeah.

Also you weren't bad to look at. Probably his favourite to keep an eye on, as long as you kept your mouth shut and continued to work yourself against the pole. Always wearing skimpy clothes that left little to the imagination but you still got people to see under what was hiding under it all. It would almost make him forgive you for getting him a bit heated beneath the belt, just like the married men and giggling bachelorette parties that watched you dance.

His tired eyes slowly dragged themselves from you for just a moment, checking on the other dancers, before lingering at the bar. One of the younger years he'd push around at school was there, pouring drinks. It was a popular rumor that one of the teachers, Leighton, had a hard on for him. Bailey mulled over going over and seeing if any coins would roll out of his pockets if he shook him, when there was a shout of anger.

He looked back, just in time to see you smash your heel into the nose of the drunk, his fingers still tangled in your underwear and trying to yank even more of the fabric down. Bailey got a delicious glance at your ass before his fist made contact with the guy's stomach. Drunk-Fuck doubled over with a groan, blood dripping from his face, before throwing up just inches from Bailey's shoes. He'd have gotten a knee to the balls if he got any vomit on them, they were his last good pair. Instead he just grabbed the back of the guy's shirt and wrenched him back upwards. He turned to look up at you, trying to fix your outfit, and motioned sharply for you to get off the stage and take 5. As per the rules. You scowled, but stomped off and he did the same, dragging Drunk-Fuck out the side door and throwing him into a particularly brown puddle.

He went back to his place against the wall, crossed arms and scowls. People were less rowdy and tipped a bit more under his eagle eyes. You eventually came back, brushing by him and slipping him a note with a... Smile. Immediately put him on edge. You were probably aiming to get him fired for not being quick enough, he decided as he unfolded the paper.

Meet me after my shift in the back :}

Yeah. He didn't feel good about that. Maybe you'd mace him for fun. Not the first time it's happened, and Harper's nose was still crooked from Bailey's opinion of when it happened. Still burned that that deeply unemployable fuck was somehow an intern while he was here, waiting with his bloodied fist stuffed into his jeans, waiting for you to collect the last of your tips from the floor.

"Hey, hero." Your voice, usually disdainful and uninterested, was now soft, more of a purr. You hadn't even changed out of your outfit, chest still bare and shorts unbuttoned to show a flash of shaved pubic bone. A part of him wished in a flash that you threw out all of your waxing supplies, and he had to quash that thought instantly. His routine jerk off sessions in his car after work were bad enough without thoughts of you going unshaved for once. Worse, you hadn't even showered yet, a fine sheen of sweat glistening on your skin. You looked good and Bailey fucking hated you.

"What you want?" His palms felt kinda sweaty in his jeans. His trousers in general was feeling a bit too warm right now. The club didn't believe in air conditioning apparently.

"Awh, B, don't be sour." You smirked at him and stepped closer. You smelt good. Of sweat.

Jesus, he was going insane. Maybe watching so much porn of plastic looking men and women had broken his brain and now he was turning into the kind of guy who would huff dirty underwear to get a kick. He didn't like people as a rule, so that would be a pain in the ass if it was true.

"I just thought I would reward my knight in shining armor." You grinned up at him, resting a hand on his chest and roughly shoving him backwards, onto the one desk that had a computer on it, nearly sending it toppling to the floor.

"What the fu-" Bailey gripped the edge of the table, trying to push himself up but froze at the feeling of your fingers undoing his belt. "I don't-"

"Oh, is Big Bad Bailey scared? Don't wike bweaking the rules?" You faux-pouted at him, talking in a lisp before smirking again. "Or are you a virgin? Never had your dick touched before?"

You didn't wait for an answer, not that you would have cared. Instead, you slipped his half hard cock out of his underwear, the traitor twitching in your soft palm. You obviously felt it, giving it a few appreciative strokes until it was fully hard, and worse, leaking.

"Just... Hurry up." Bailey finally grunted, wanting to grab you by the throat. "Don't want anyone to come in and see you mouthing at my dick."

"Ew." You crinkled your nose before laughing. "Oh, god no, I don't do that. Fuck no."

You shimmied out of your shorts, finally bearing all to him. Not like he hadn't seen you nude while dancing, but it was different, now knowing apparently you didn't suck dick and was going to make him cum. Instead of dropping to your knees, you shoved him further back against the desk, and straddled his thighs, effectively trapping him like a bug.

"Hey-"

"Oh shut up. You're so hot when your mouth is shut." You sighed, rolling your eyes. "I'm trying to thank you, stop fussing."

The back of his neck prickled with sweat, feeling too hot. It was like if you were telling him off for being a difficult child or something! As if he didn't pay taxes, which he didn't do anyway, but he did it on purpose these days.

Before he could spend any more time thinking about grabbing you by the throat to pin you down and lecturing you on respecting him as a man, you were already sinking down on his throbbing cock. Fuck.

You had prepared yourself before coming to see him. The push inside was smooth, wet and warm. Bailey wanted snark about your thanks not including foreplay, but all that came out was a strangled groan. You only smiled in response, pressing your hands against his chest for leverage before beginning to bounce on his cock. You controlled it all, keeping one hand curled into his shirt, with your legs clamped down. He hated to say it but fuck, you looked good. Soft sighs from your parted lips, eyes closed as you worked his dick as good as your pole dancing promised, pulling out till just the head stayed inside before slamming down. Bailey couldn't stop the groans slipping free, even as he bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to bleed.

It was uncomfortable, the wood of the desk digging into his back, the fuck-ass old mouse and keyboard digging into his bared thighs, his lower half rocked into hazy pleasure that had his fucking toes curling.

"There you go." You exhaled, refusing to slow down, the feeling of his cock being ruined sinking in as you moved. "Deserve a treat after being such a sweetheart, don't you?"

Bailey might or might not have nodded at that, his head was swimming too much to know. All he did know was he needed to give as good as it got, and began to thrust up into you, enjoying the hitch in your breath, feeling your legs loosen their clamp against his as you began to let yourself bounce instead of riding him. He didn't even notice you going to grab his hand and bringing it up to your lips, pink tongue slipping out to lap at his bloodied knuckles. The taste just got you more excited, the two of you neglecting everything else but desperately grinding into each other.

"You like that?" He finally managed, his bottom lip bitten to fuck, watching you tongue his scratched up skin. "You'll whore yourself out to me every time I lay someone out?" He barked out a near laugh, which was more of a moan.

For the first time, probably ever, you didn't reply, just pressed his middle finger into your mouth and began to suck the digit, eyes rolling back as you tightened around Bailey.

He hated the fact he came first, just when you were mid bounce, and with just his head snug inside of you. Most of it dribbled out immediately, coating the crotch of his trousers, probably ruining the desk underneath the two of you, but you didn't even stop. No, you weren't the type to care about his overstimulated dick when you hadn't even cum yet. He couldn't even grip your hips to make you stop, he was so fuckin useless after his cock was worked so thoroughly.

No, you came just minutes later and slipped free of him. Used his underwear to wipe yourself clean too, bitch. You smiled over at him, sweat glistening on your bottom lip, and Bailey, horrifically, thought about licking it off.

"See how nice I am when you're a gentleman." You cooed before pulling your shorts back up and leaving him in a cum drunk daze.

Next time, he swore as he stuffed his underwear into his back pocket and hitched his trousers up, chafing his soft cock, he was going to fucking own you. Maybe throw some people out so you're all sweet to him.

He lit a cigarette as he stepped out, feeling his sheen of sweat dry up in the cold air and wondered if Briar took referrals.

[carry-the-sky]

go spin the wheel, see where it lands—

Here's the thing about time: it's always running out. He felt it even as a kid, this urgency moving through him, around him. Always just ahead. He'd catch up, if everything else would just slow the hell down. But there are rules, and rule number one is that time tends to be, well, linear. Directional. Things get a bit messy when it's not.

Four seconds. That was rule number two, and the consequences for breaking it are— bad. To put it lightly.

He doesn't exactly have a choice. Or, he does, but if it's between breaking the rules or not, watching everything he loves get ripped away or digging in, claws first— well. He knows a thing or two about fighting dirty.

So, no, it's not a choice. It's immutable, like gravity. Time. A strict progression from cause to effect.

Ekko breaks rule number two.

And the line becomes a circle.

.

He thinks it's a dream, the first time. What else would it be? She fell. She's gone.

She's here now, though. Whole and happy and here, running a hand through her chopped-short hair. That single streak of magenta hits him where it hurts, square in his chest. You can't feel pain in a dream, can you?

"You're back," she says, without looking up. She's lying on her stomach, sketchbook open, a whirling kaleidoscope of color on the page in front of her. "Took you long enough."

"Was I gone?" Ekko says.

She actually laughs at that, the sound filling up his ears, warm and bright. "Benzo was starting to worry, not that he'd ever admit it. Big ol' softie." Her hand flashes, chalk sticks arcing across the page. "You seem to have that effect on people."

He shakes his head. "I don't. I'm not—"

She scribbles faster, fingers stained pink and blue and every shade in between. "You know, for a smart guy, you're kinda dumb."

"Ouch."

"I still like you, though."

This is a nice dream. Maybe the only nice dream he'll have again.

"I miss you," he says, dredging the words up from some sunless space inside him. "I didn't tell you before."

Her hand slows to a stop. From where he's standing, Ekko can only see a few snatches of detail on the page; a fuchsia smile, twin blue braids.

"I'm right here, buster," she says, not looking up. Grinning softly at her hands. "Never left, actually."

The circle wobbles, shifts out of focus. Time and space folding in on each other like paper cranes.

When he blinks, Powder is gone.

.

Too late. It's always, always too late.

.

"It's you," she says, the next time.

They're somewhere green, somewhere he's never been. A part of the Undercity that doesn't exist where he's from, that never existed.

"Uh." He blinks against the sun. "It's me, yeah."

"Seriously?" Beside him on the lawn, she pops up on an elbow, scrutinizing him. "You still don't get what's happening? Sheesh, hopping dimensions really does do a number on the noggin."

Okay, this is a weird dream. Still, as long as he keeps her talking, as long as he has sun on his skin and grass beneath him, he doesn't really care. He'll take weird. He'll take whatever he can get.

"Noggin, right," he laughs. "Synapses. Drunk slugs."

Powder scrunches up her nose like she's trying not to laugh. "Alright, I give. If you wanna dance around the giant elephant in the room, be my guest." She turns her head into her arm, a shield from the sun. Between them, their hands brush in the grass, pinky fingers tangling together. "Next time, though."

Ekko hums, content. More than that— happy. Overflowing with it. Then he frowns. "Wait. Next time?"

Paper cranes, folding in and in and in.

"Dummy," he thinks he hears her say before she disappears.

.

"So when you said 'hopping dimensions', you meant—"

"Yeah."

"And that means—"

"Yeah."

Ekko spins in a circle, arms thrown out wide. "But— how? All of this, the lab, the tech— it shouldn't exist here. Heimerdinger made sure—"

"Hey, you're the genius," Powder says. "I just live here."

Four seconds. He lets it sink in for four seconds—she's whole, she's happy, she's here, at least in this tiny pocket of space and time—before he's crossing the space between them and pulling her into a bruising hug. Her breath puffs out in mild surprise, and then she's hugging him back, arms cinching tight around him. I won't forget this. But he's already started to. He drops his head to her shoulder, breathing her in, every tiny detail. He won't make the same mistake twice.

Her eyes are wet when they untangle. Ekko swipes at his cheek to find that his are, too.

"I'm sorry," he says. "I'm so sorry. I thought I saved you, but it wasn't— I wasn't—"

"Don't," she says fiercely. "Don't do that. Not with me, not here. I meant what I said, okay? You're a good one, Ekko. You don't give up on people. If I'm— if the other me is— then there was nothing you could've done to change it. That was always gonna be how the story ended."

The tears are a river, streaming salt down the slope of his nose and into his mouth. "I was too slow. I'm always too damn slow."

Powder's hands are on his face, her lips kissing the salt from his cheeks, his eyelids. "The boy savior," she murmurs. "It's not your job to save everyone, you know. But I love you for trying."

She's fading, or maybe he is. Time and space, a never-ending anomaly. But there are constants, too, things that keep the universe spinning. Rules worth breaking.

He feels it, this time. It's like someone's scooping out his insides, rearranging his atoms. Like he's being wiped clean, unmade. Hollowed out so that some other him can be stuffed into his skin. Four seconds is all it takes, or maybe four million.

I love you. I love you, too.

.

He tells her for real, when he sees her again.

"I know," she says, elbowing him in the ribs. Her cheeks are dusky-pink. "Following my lead, huh?"

He looks at her, really looks. Every detail; the dainty point of her chin and the dusting of freckles across her nose and her eyes, big and bright and blue.

"Always," he says.

.

Time and space. Paper cranes, folding and unfolding, creasing the lines of reality. Some rules can't be broken, but they can bend a little.

Here's one: when you die, you stay dead.

.

He must be dreaming. She's standing right in front of him, in this dimension, on this plane of existence, real and whole and here. Her hair is still short, all of it blue.

Four seconds. He holds his breath for four seconds, and then: "Jinx."

"Hey, buster," she says.

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 4

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 25,488

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

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

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was love, wasn’t it? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sound. 

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing here?” 

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

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

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

“I can help - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not call me that.” 

A terse pause. 

“Are we back to that again?” 

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

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

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

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

“You don’t mean that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His parents? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Gods, I hate this …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it hits you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you tell him everything. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you still sentenced him to prison?” 

“I did.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You sit up a little straighter. “Me?” 

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

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

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

A pause. 

“Do you love him?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you want something to drink?” 

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

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

“Were you waiting long?” 

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

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

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

“Me too …” 

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

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

He nods once, further bolstering your courage. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I said don’t tease me!” 

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

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

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

“You needn’t thank me for that …” 

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

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

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

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

“Until my dying breath.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She gave me lipstick, your grace.” 

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

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

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

“Hm? Like what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, when he put it like that … 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was this how his cock would feel inside you? 

“Aahhnn … oh, gods! That’s - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, Wriothesley - -“

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

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

“Ready for the next round, pretty girl?” 

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

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

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

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

“Don’t tease me …” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Only for you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“S - sir?” 

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

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

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

“… secure.” 

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

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

“It’s on the desk.” 

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

You had rather liked putting your mouth all over him. 

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

“Not getting distracted, are we?” 

“… n - no, sir.” 

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

He wanted to put it on you himself? 

Slowly, you nod. “Yes, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Feeling good so far, little miss?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your chest hitches. “Your grace - -“ 

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

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

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

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

“All the better then.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y -  … yes, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Still with me, little miss?” 

“Oh — ooohhnn … Wriothesley, I - -“

“Do you think you need to tap out?” 

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

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

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

No, maybe that wasn’t quite right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir …” 

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

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

“You won’t be on top, sir?” 

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

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

“Oooh …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Eek! T - thank you, sir!” 

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

“P - pleeeaase, I want it!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wriothesley, please …” 

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

“Yes, sir.” 

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

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

Swat! 

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

“Ooh! God! W - Wriothesley!” 

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

“I love it!” 

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

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

Swat! 

“Come on, pretty girl. Cum for me.”

You’re completely blindsided when you do just that. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quite a lot, in fact. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swat! 

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

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

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

“Nnghn … thank you, sir.” 

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

Swat! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Regret what?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not even a little one.” 

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

One week later … 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The End

⭐

Crossposted: here

[fr3akingtf0utrn]

Trans Spidey reader where the reader is really into Miguel’s fangs and talons and everyone at HQ knows but Miguel (basically just sexual tension between oblivious people)

Miguel O’Hara x FTM!! Reader

Warnings: slight nsfw, def some hard tension, swearing, we stan cat claw Miguel. And remember I am German.. so poorly translated Spanish

I didn’t put a lot of detail in that reader is trans, but I feel that it’s still reassuring to know this fic has a trans reader :)) knowing that it’s about him but sorry!!

———————————————————————

“Yo, where’s your head at, mate?” Hobie hits your shoulder getting your attention. You blink from zoning out and uncross your arms.

“Uh just zoning my bad,” you say while boosting yourself back on your hands on the ledge, shoulders near your ears.

It was around lunch time at the HQ and you and Hobie were sitting on one of the ledges in the main lobby where you walk in. It was actually pretty quite since everyone is in the cafeteria, only some passing by.

“Are ye still thinking bout him, bro?” Hobie scoffs but chuckles at the same time. You roll your eyes, “kinda but it’s something else about him..” you ponder off.

Hobie rolls his eyes, “what? how he got like monster like features?” You go quiet and your eyes go wide.

“NAH MATE-!” He pushes you and fake gags. You cover your face and stand yourself up and start walking.

“Dude, I knew you liked em’ but not like that!” Hobie follows you as you guys hop down to the bridge, but you stop and he trips over you.

“wait,” you slowly turn around to him, “is it that obvious?” You frown up at him, waiting for his response.

“Yes! Bruv, you stare at him 24/7! And when you do it’s like your eyes turn to heart eyes.” He says and you groan throwing your head back while covering your face once again out of embarrassment.

“What about him interest you??” Hobie asks and you groan once again. “It’s too embarrassing,” you words slur from your hands.

He places his hand on your shoulder while walking around you. “I promise you it can’t be that bad,” hobie says and you move your hands giving him a look.

He raises his eyebrows, you look down. “His fangs and claws..” you mumble. “Huh,” hobie’s eyebrows furrow.

“His fangs and claws! Have you seen them! God I can’t there just so, ugh,” you throw your arms up.

Hobie stares wide eyed and mouth open, “lord, are you sure that’s the only thing?”

“We’ll obviously not, he’s so sweet when we’re alone. And he helps me a lot with certain things,” you say and comb your hair with your fingers.

“what kind of certain things??” Hobie smirks.

You side eye him, “your impossible to talk to.”

“If you think about it, it’s like monster fucking,” hobie says nonchalantly. You eyes went wide and jaw dropped. “You’re fucking disgusting,” you push and kick at Hobie and he stumbles.

You turn around and walk away. “Where are you going, dude?!” Hobie calls out to you. “To blow off steam!” You yell back and swing away.

“I would go find Miguel for that then, mate!” He laughs and sees you fumble a bit while swinging.

——

Your eyes barely left Miguel’s body the entire time. The thing was, you were barley listening to Miguel ramble.

He usually tended to do that when you guys were alone.

No matter what he does, he was just perfect. The way his hips swayed without realizing, giving sassy looks at others, which you found funny and cute. God, you wondered if he really did even know you liked him, you were obvious.

You were leaned against his desk, arms crossed and zoned out.

I wonder what triggers them..

how does he control them too?

most of all, I wonder how they feel…

Miguel turned towards you, “you get what I mean?” He suddenly asked.

You jumped, “uhm yeah sure.” Your head was still crowed.

He raised his eyebrow at you, “ why are you always out of it, cariño? You’ve been like this a couple days,” he asked you as he walked over to where you were.

You cleared your throat and boosted yourself up on the desk, “yeah, I’ve just been thinking..about- things?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Miguel’s eyes were on you, watching your body tense from his stare.

Miguel was utterly oblivious as well when it came to liking someone. Never noticed until someone points it out or if he gets jealous.

And, you had no idea he was literally obsessed with you. Jess had to smack the fuck out him to get his shit together and ask you out.

You let out a nervous chuckle and adjusted the neck of your suit. Miguel huffs and walks over to you. Your head was looking down at the ground, not noticing how the distance started closing until you saw big hands go on either side of your hips.

Miguel bad you trapped between his arms, his hips between your legs.

“Tell me,” he demanded. “huh,” you barely had words, ‘does this man not know notice what he’s doing?’

“Tell me what’s wrong so I can make you focus or feel better,” Miguel repeated. You bite the inside of your cheek, “okay..” you move yourself so you can reach for Miguel’s hand.

Miguel furrows his eyebrows, but continues watching, not wanting to stop you.

You grab it, admiring the pretty veins before pressing down in the middle of his palm, causing the talons to shoot out. You gasp and grin slightly.

Miguel raises his eyebrows, since he just takes his claw out on command, he didn’t know that was a way they could also show.

Your fingers graze his talons, loving the sharp edges. Miguel stares, eyes lidded looking at your mesmerized face. Suddenly, you gently drop his hand and reach up for Miguel’s face.

His eyes widen and he’s pushed up against you, your hands on his jaw.

“sorry, can I please just..?” you ask gently and Miguel nods like his hypnotized by you.

Your thumb traces his cheekbone while the other grazes his lips. Miguel’s body felt like it was on fire, being pushed up against you while your hands on him.

If you weren’t so oblivious and mesmerized by him right now, you would of felt the bulge creeping up against you, including the heat between your legs.

You lift Miguel’s upper lip, “can you show me them..please,” you ask noticing his fangs aren’t showing.

Miguel once again nods and opens his mouth, a soft sharp sound was heard and they appeared.

Your eyes shined with amazement and a slight grin. Your thumb stayed in his upper lip to get better angles of them.

Without noticing, you leaned closer and your thighs squeezed against Miguel’s hips. Miguel’s breath hitched when he felt you. His eyes swirled with red lust watching over you.

He felt special that you were so entranced by him, all your attention on him in this moment.

“..so sharp, Miguel,” you said under your breath and he felt his eyes go lidded as your other hand went to hold his hip to pull him even closer if that was possible.

You moaned as your thumb got a slight cut from his fangs, blood immediately oozing out. Miguel’s eyes widening, “..can I?” He asked.

You nodded and placed your hand that was on his face, onto his hips now. Miguel looked into your eyes as he stuck the tip of his tongue out and kitten licked the blood.

He leaned forward and placed one of his hands on your thigh, squeezing slightly with his claws.

Miguel wrapped his perfect lips around your thumb and sucked slightly, you feeling him suck the blood out. You watched with your mouth slightly open, and shifted your hips in the counter, accident brushing against him.

He grunted and released your thumb with a pop, his tongue still sticking out his mouth as he let you go.

Miguel’s claws dug into your thigh and slightly ran your hands up his body, loving how your hands fit on his snap waist.

Your hands made it to his biceps and then to his shoulders.

Miguel seemed breathless as your hands traced him, him staring into your own lidded eyes.

Your eyes flickered down to his plump brown lips, seeing the blood that dried slightly on them. You licked your own and you both leaned in slowly,

As soon as you felt his breath on you, a loud accent was heard.

“OI MIGUEL!! Can I steal Y/n?? I need him for something- oh..” Hobie stopped immediately in his tracks when he tilted his head up and saw you two connected by the hips.

Both of your heads snapped to him, staring wide eyed.

Hobie quickly turned around on his boot, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “I’ll just tell him later if guess! SORRY MATES!” Hobie yelled.

As soon as hobie was at the door he yelled, “make sure to use those fangs in bed on him, Miguel!”

“GET OUT,”

The sight was something, but that something was something that Hobie wish he didn’t see.

[sen-ya]

heart eyes @ Lawlu fam au's Robin + love that Kaya joined the strawhats, i'm curious about the bond she has with the rest of the crew - especially Sanji (👀) and the non-East Blue crewmates!!! also Brook teaching anyone who shows moderate interest in music is so real i love that headcanon!!

Ahhhh I love Kaya I’m sorry if I drone on in random directions here!! Okay okay so the general vibe of how she got there is after Laugh Tale (and whatever happens there I dare not speculate I’m bad at guessing) the Straw Hats eventually make their way back to the East Blue and Usopp stays in Syrup village for a little longer than the rest of the crew and when they come back for him he’s like “uh so hi uh Kaya and I got married” and Luffy’s like “SHE WAS CREW BEFORE SHE’S CREW NOW GET ON THIS BOAT :^))” Then there’s a period of time when her and Usopp decide they want to have a kid (surprise it’s two kids) where they spend a few years in Syrup Village before they rejoin the Straw Hats which I know I mentioned okay but so w Sanji I think before the kids they’re very friendly, Sanji always knew about Kaya and Usopp would write to Kaya and talk abt all the crew but esp Sanji so there’s a bit of that “I feel like I already know you” vibe with them. She does already know the rest of the East Blue crew so she’d probably gravitate towards them at first and out of all of them besides Usopp I think she’d vibe the most with Luffy and Sanji. Her and Chopper are fast friends for obvious reasons, and they start to kind of divvy up doctor-ing duties. Kaya specialized in traumatic injury so she could help Usopp on his adventures and Chopper specializes in internal medicine so she becomes a huge help in the aftermath of battles. First round of treatment from Dr. Kaya and ongoing treatment with Dr. Chopper :^) Add Law into the mix when the Hearts are around and they have a little Doctor Club where the three of them are always exchanging knowledge and books and things they’ve found around the world that are helpful. The three of them are really comfortable friends and like to study in the same room together without talking for like hours. In a similar vein I think her and Robin get along really well and will read quietly together. The way that Robin just says creepy shit Kaya has a way of doing that too, but with such a friendly face and tone it’ll take people a long time to even begin to clock why what she said is fucked up (makes giving Bad Doctor News very easy, she’s a kind of calming that after the fact makes you go ??? How did that work). She spends a fair amount of time with Franky because she likes to hang out in the workshop while Usopp tinkers, and it turns into her learning a thing or two from Franky as well. Brook tried to teach her piano because it seemed like something she’d like but she was low key terrible at it and the lessons went on much longer than they should have because they were both too polite to suggest they stop.

After her and Usopp rejoin the Straw Hats Sanji is immediately obsessed with their kids. Sanji has such “I will parent the shit out of any child” energy okay this guy was born to dad. Ofc it makes Usopp’s heart full to see his kids with his boyf, and Usopp is a very involved dad (he would never be like his own dad), but it just situationally ends up giving Kaya & Sanji more one on one time than they’d had before (switching off parenting duties, Kaya’s not really a fighter so she tends to stay back on the ship if there’s conflict, Sanji esp at first volunteers to stay back with her and the kids to keep watch). All of that plus the fact that Sanji’s always been framed to her as this guy the person she loves loves, it’s only a hop skip and a jump away until “oops I have a crush on my husband’s boyfriend.” Esp cause I don’t think Usopp would be shy about being affectionate with either of them, so all three of them plus the two kids just end up in a pile super often.

ALSO OKAY WE WERE ROBBED OF SHORT HAIRED ROBIN ODA ALMOST GAVE HER TO US AND I WILL NEVER FORGET

[hyp-fixator]

Misc. Headcannons as a little treat and also cause I'm bored. (Most are region based!)

Hyperlaser tends to like writing as a coping mechanism. He keeps everything in a single storyline in a book that will forever stay a work in progress. ^ All it is is him putting his life into a different perspective. Most of the time I feel like the book would be pretty boring, just a day after day after day kind of thing. Noticing the little patterns around him, noting down what he eats, how he rested, etc.

All demon horns, if expressing strong emotions, can emit sparks and/or electric currents in the direction of growth. These sparks are harmless and are more of a pulse of light if anything. ^ if strong emotions are felt and the demon has injured/broken horns, the sparks/electricity can escape through the injury, and depending on the severity can cause a sparkshower. ^ these sparks also crackle like static electricity, while the glowing pulse going up the horn(s) is a faint hum. (This is partially inspired by horns glowing when the Phighters phinishers are ready, though when that happens it's kinda like when you go into a rage in dnd. A bunch of built up power erupts and the horns pulse so fast they look like they're glowing)

And now the faction headcannons!

BlackRock is a tourist attraction most of the time! With the mountains and valleys, it tends to feel a lot like Banff National Park in Canada. ^ tons of expensive as hell food, shops, ect all meant to trap and drown people.

Blackrocks economy is the worst out of all the factions. Many people have to eat only a few times a week, and when they do, it almost always tastes like gasoline and/or dirt. Of course, with the tourist traps, no one knows unless they move there how bad the cuisine is. They probably steal recipies from neighboring factions.

All of Blackrocks labs are built into the largest mountains, the only way in and out being the massive steel doors.

BlackRock was of course named after the mountains in the region, which are made out of a slick black rock. The most common tourist souvenir is a piece of this rock from the mountains.

there's of course the more mountainous places in BlackRock, but most of the population resides in the center of the faction which is protected by the mountains surrounding the massive city like a bowl. ^ this city resembles downtown japan and New York times square, but x100 more busy and advanced in their technology.

this city tends to only be visited by the tourists who are dead set on going, as it's not very tourist friendly with its inhabitants and the stores are more than expensive. Their cornerstores arent even that good either.

BlackRock doesnt celebrate anything, and is more secluded when it comes to their culture.

At playgrounds center is just an urban town, always resembling one of those classic movies based in the 1970's/80's. ^ the outskirts of Playground is a massive and dense forest system, where plenty of secrets are held. Most of them are hideouts though.

Playground is a heavily community based faction, and it doesnt have many big cities. The capital is one of the only cities, and even then many still prefer the towns and neighborhoods scattered across the faction.

There's also a few large lakes around the faction, so beach culture is a fairly big staple.

Playground doesn't usually celebrate a lot of things as a whole faction, and more rather everyone has massive parties and celebrates with their own family and friends. Party-hopping happens quite a bit because of this

The thieves den is the second most visited faction, and the calmest of them all. A permenant fog covers the ground, giving it an almost eerie feel, though it fluctuates with the weather.

Community is also a fairly big staple, though it's more in business then personal connections. ^ there is plenty of farmland and tons of street markets open almost all the time.

The Thieves den, without much competition, easily has the best cuisine out of all the factions with all the freshly grown and harvested ingredients, along with talented chefs.

The capital of thieves would most likely look a lot like those old chinese towns, but I wouldnt be suprised if theres a bunch of Korean inspiration in there as well.

Festivities are not very common, but when they do happen, Theives den goes all out with some of the most light and decoration crazy celebrations. Most times the capital holds it, and almost always it ends up being the whole city decked out to celebrate.

The theives den also has plenty of bars and pubs/hotels scattered around the faction, and they all reside fairly close to each other.

The lost temple is the driest faction of the four, residing in small towns around a massive desert, usually based around water pools and oasis.

Most of the buildings are made of sandstone and chiseled with delicate details.

Of course the church of the true eye resides somewhere in the capital, most likely hiding behind a different name.

Lost temple is probably the most menacing faction specifically for how uneasy the air around it is. Naturally theres some very nice and safe places and experiences to go to, but if you take a wrong turn it's very easy to end up in the wrong side of town.

markets are also fairly common, every other street has at least a few stalls up daily.

the more populated areas are definitely a little more "yee haw cowboy" esque, having taller buildings and such.

[not-goldy]

Speaking as an ex-pjms akgae (and jk anti, yeah), jikookers and jm stans are too hard on jk. I've been absent from stan twt for almost year and came back for jm's album and just stumbled upon ays. Now I see just how damn insane and stupid some of jikookers and pjms are. Some of yall fr think Jimin is a damsel in distress waiting for you to save him and a weakling. Saw so many pjms saying jk is an abusive asshole abusing poor soft gentle weak jm and wanted to throw up. Jm is far from being a damsel in distress. This mf shuts down people who annoy him and piss him off like no business, he cuts them off, he tells them to fuck off in the most diplomatic and nice ways possible but nevertheless shuts them down. I really need to know where some of yall were all this time. 'Omg jk is so abusive and rude, omg he is so cold, omg he is so aggressive' and it's a clip of jk saying jimin is a shit driver too, spanking his ass and being upset that jm didnt call him. Mf??? Yes, jm is gentle, caring and has a huge amazing heart but some of you turn a blind eye on the fact that he tends to be short-tempered and is actually really hard and bossy. People are multi-faceted, multi-dimensional, people can be a combination of nice, glimmer and angelic and some tucked up shit. 'Jk hits jm!!' so does jm??? He plays with jk as rough, if not more rough sometimes. 'Jk is rude and cold' and jm shuts him down??? He metaphorically whoops his ass and calls him out on his behavior?? Jk is not an angel but so is Jm despite how nice and kind he is he can be petty af sometimes. Jk is not easy to handle (as said by himself) but so is jm. Pjms always shit on jk for drinking and doing his drunk lives calling him and alcoholic but then turn around and listen to FACE. They blame jk for singing about sex but then call Like Crazy soty (rightfully tho). Mind you, jm literally sings about escaping the reality by drinking and having sex with his partner (while said partner is concerned as it was in the original lyrics), not to mention Like crazy's choreography with backup dancers doing sex positions. They blame jk for feeding jikookers by talking about jm too much but then ignore that jm does it too. Like, bro pack it up, almost everything you shit on jk and blame him for applies to jm too, and vice versa.

Hop off jm's dick, you are not his mother, stop acting like jimin is a woman, thats a mf man, with a dick and everything, a damn strong headed amazing man!!! He is not a child, not a poor damsel in abusive relationship. A weakling would not survive in an industry like this and jimin thrives there. He is thriving in a mf military. Pajamas, you are not his mother!!! Jimin is not a victim

And for God's sake, hop of jks dick too. The guy can't catch a damn break. No, smoking doesn't mean he is a bad person. My dad smokes, my aunt smokes and I smoke, too, and believe me they are amazing people, the kindest I've ever met. We just need to clear our head and take the anxiety away. Drinking doesn't mean he is a bad person, everybody drinks and jm is the most vocal about it. Singing about sex doesn't mean he is a bad person. Doing explicit chores doesn't mean he is a bad person, jms choreography is more explicit anyway. Promoting your work and wanting recognition doesn't mean he is an asshole, thats his work. Being confident and wanting to be the best doesn't mean he is arrogant, jm is literally the same he's just not that vocal abt it. I swear, whatever jk does and whichever lengths he goes for jm, it's never enough for people. Idk, maybe yall should detach a little bit and look at his actions with unbiased eyes. The man does the most and gets shitted on by everyone, tkkrs blaming him, calling him a liar, a puppet and everything else, jkkrs calling him an asshole for not handling jm like a damsel in distress and for having his own feelings and being upset because of jm, pjms hating him for breathing and living, jjks being passive aggressive and shitting on him for not fulfilling their fantasies and for his bond with jm. Idk, an insane idea, I know, but maybe, just maybe, they both are humans? With their own flows??? They are not your ideas? Not your fic characters? These are real people, with everything good and ugly. Don't project on them your ideals and beliefs just because YOU ☹️🫵 is unsatisfied with your own life and want to treat them like object to satisfy you

Jimin stands on business

Some one sent me an ask saying I used to be obsessed with how feminine Jimin is and asked what changed and I just swiped up on that Ask cos how in the hell in 2024 are we still assuming feminine means Damsel in distress.

Do I love that he has a feminine side to him??

Yes

Do I wish sometimes he has a vagina

Don't judge I'm a lesbian yes.

But there's a type of feminine I like and a type I hate.

This?

Hate her. Will run her over with a bus

This

Eiishh I'll go on my knees for her

This

If you don't get her off my screen.

This

She can paint me like one of her dragons

Speaking of dragons

Now yall know they have me in a chokehold 🥺

When I think of Jimin as feminine I think of all the strong independent badass fems and nonbinary out there.

Would I like to braid his hair and paint our toe nails together sure. I mean I can't throw him over my shoulder and spin him around like Jungkook does.

Me and Jungkook we have a type 🤪

[bumblingapocalypse]

Morning Routine

The usual morning routine of the Sumdac Household during the apocalypse.

Warning: Somewhat Morbid talk about decapitated heads.

======== Bumbling-Apocalypse ===============

Sari yawned, rubbing her face as she exited her room, her alarm having woken her up. She could already hear Bee going around in the kitchen and smell breakfast already cooked, her first destination for the morning.

"Morning Honeybee." Her brother called out as she made her way towards the table, setting down a plate of eggs, cooked vegetables and a glass of milk. "Sleep alright?"

"Mhm, very warm. Didn't feel cold at all." Sari yawned again, stretching her arms for a moment before she finally noticed a somewhat new addition to the kitchen counter. "Oh, morning, Meggy!" She greeted the disembodied head.

Was it weird that her brother had the head of another of his species around? Kind of, but honestly, Meggy's been around just as long Bumblebee so it made him family.

The head said nothing, because it was just a head. Sometimes though, Sari thought he was watching her and Bee. "Are you cleaning your room again?" She asked before digging into breakfast, that was one the common reasons as to why Meggy would be out of Bee's room.

The yellow alien hummed, "Yeah, I've put it off long enough. Dust has been gathering on Meg's head so he's been cranky about it." He gave the head an amused look, again, the head said nothing. The bot snorted, reaching out to pat Meggy's head. "I always tend to forget a bit more often when it's winter Megs, too busy trying to survive and take care of our lil' gremlin!"

"Hey!" Sari complained, pouting at him and Meggy. "Meggy, Bee's being mean again!"

Bee laughs and Sari beams at the sound, winter has always been Bee's worse season. He's more quiet, less outgoing, a lot more serious.

Sari knows it's not the most sane thing for her and Bee to treat the head as if he were still alive, but he was one of Bee's people. Even if he was a bad guy once, according to her big brother. She wondered sometimes, on why he would keep Meggy around if he was so horrible but then she remembers that Meggy was one of the only things that Bee had of his home.

Sometimes, during the night when she's awake and has to get a drink or go to the bathroom. She hears Bee talking to Meggy through the door, she doesn't know what Bee talks to him about most times.

"Hey Megatron, do you think I'll end up like you someday? Just a fraggin' head? Morbid thing to ask I know, but... It's a thought that I keep having sometimes... I just hope it's Sari that keeps my head around. Who knows, maybe she'll keep your ugly mug too, hah. We could even share a shelf! Wouldn't that be something?"

Sari didn't try to eavesdrop on Bee again after that. The thought of Bee ending up like Meggy is... something she doesn't want to ever think about. At all.

After breakfast, she hops down from her chair. "I'm done! And! I finished my vegetables." She replied smugly.

"Oh yeah? Even the broccoli?" Bee questioned with a small smile.

Sari made a face before reluctantly nodding, "Yeah, even those gross mini-trees." She grumbled but preened when Bee's hand settled on her head- the only time she didn't really mind having Bee ruffle her hair was in the mornings before she tied it to her usual pigtails.

"Good! It's Monday today, if the snow isn't that troublesome, I'll take you to the settlement today after I clean my room. Alright Honeybee?"

"Yes!" Sari pumped her arms in glee, "Okay! I'm gonna go shower now!" She reached her arms up so Bee could lift her up close to his face. Sari pecked his cheek and smiled at Bee, waiting, her brother snorted before adjusting so she was facing Meggy. "Have a nice morning Meggy!" She pecked his cheek too, giggling as Bee set her down.

She gave Bee an expectant look and Bee rolled his eyes in familiar exasperation, leaning over to give Meggy a peck of his own. A habit she's made him do ever since she was young. Sari beamed before going off towards the bathroom.

Sari looked back once to see Bee gathering her finished plate and utensils to put in the sink, and she swore Meggy's eyes were glowing red for a moment. She blinked and the glow was gone. Shaking her head, she focused on other things; like finishing her morning routine.

============ Bumbling-Apocalypse =============

"Such a gremlin that girl." The mini-bot complained with no heat, a smile on his derma as he started washing the dishes. It was a very domestic thing to do for an Autobot. Then again, the mini-bot was a maintenance worker, or once was one. "Making me kiss the Decepticon Leader's cheek, what a little manipulator hm? No bot would ever believe it."

Indeed, no bot would. Yet it happened, but there were no other bots around at all.

Bumblebee leaned against the sink, venting heavily. "44 years Megs. It's been 44 years. That's- that's short for our us Cybertronians I know but... I guess I'm so used to thinking of it in human terms. Still haven't found a sign of my team. And with that weird field all around the planet, no signal could ever hope to reach Cybertron of all places... I'm really starting to think I'm gonna die here, alone." He whispers that last part to himself.

Unacceptable

Bumblebee shook his helm, "Ugh, no, shouldn't think that way. It's only been 44 years. Just- half a vorn. I've made it this far. 'Sides! It's too early to think such depressing thoughts, right Megs?" He glanced over to the head, staying silent for a moment as if to hear his reply. There was none, but the mini-bot nodded anyway. "Right. Okay! Chores first, I'll go clean my room now. Dust off your shelf so you can get back there." Absentmindedly, he reached out to pat Megatron's faceplate before he left.

Oblivious to the way the decapitated helm's optics flickered for a moment, following his movement before offlining.

One day...

[Prev]

[Next]

[goosewriting]

Thaw

summary: reader comforts Cal when he has self-doubts.

relationship: Cal Kestis x GN reader

warnings: slight spoilers for Jedi Fallen Order

word count: 1.6k 

A/N: i tried keeping it as vague as possible so as not to spoil too much. eventually i got some things wrong because when i first wrote this i hadn’t finished the game yet and i mix up all the inquisitors anyways lol

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — —

“Start up the ship! I’m on my way!”

That was the last message Cal sent after you informed him that the Empire had gotten to Ilum, and they were after him. Greez, Cere and you are currently in the Mantis’ cockpit, looking out to the snowy landscape, as two Imperial Walkers appear from behind the rocky formations, shooting away from you, possibly at Cal.

Your chest tightens slightly, feeling bad for the poor Jedi; he really needed a break. He finally managed to repair his lightsaber in the caves, and now Stormtroopers are after him yet again. 

After presumably fighting his way out, you finally spot him between the Walkers, running towards you, and you worry at the slight limp you immediately spot. Telling Greez to take off, you go to the ship’s ramp, which is slowly starting to retreat to close the hatch. Cal takes a Force-pushed leap onto it, losing his footing as he lands and he almost falls off, but you grab him by the arm, pulling him inside, and the door closes behind him.

Panting, Cal leans onto the round table as you shake off some snow from his clothes. He’s rambling about the Inquisitors, saying that you need to get to Dathomir as soon as possible to retrieve Cordova’s artefact from the tomb because the Second Sister is hot on his tail. 

Greez assures Cal that he’s already setting course to the red planet, but you interject that before he goes anywhere, he needs rest first. Now that he calmed down a bit you can see his adrenaline is wearing off, and he grimaces in pain as he now feels every sore spot on his body. 

Letting him lean onto your shoulder, you guide him to the back of the ship to sit on the edge of your shared bunk. BD hops onto the little table and beeps worriedly.

“Don’t worry, buddy,” you comfort the droid, as you take off Cal’s poncho and shirt. “He’ll feel better after some rest.”

You stand between Cal’s legs, tending to his injuries. He has a couple of blaster burns on his chest and shoulders, as well as a cut on his temple. You clean everything up and gently apply bacta gel to the wounds, as well as two thin band aids to the cut so it would heal properly. 

“How’s your leg?” you ask him.

“It’s fine, not sprained or anything,” Cal says without meeting your eyes. “I just took an awkward step, is all. I’ll walk it off.”

You merely hum in response, handing him a clean shirt to put on. You stand up to put everything away, and when you’re done you catch Cal just in time as he wants to get up, but you push him back down by his good shoulder.

“Come here,” you speak softly, scooting in behind him and hugging Cal to you, so he’s sitting between your legs with his back to your chest, while you sit against the wall. You make sure not to press on any of his injuries. Finally he seems to relax a little in your hold, and you press a little kiss to his jaw.

With the Empire after you, and all these Inquisitors always sniffing him out somehow… You know Cal feels like it was defeat after defeat. You want to comfort him but you're not sure what to say except for ‘it’s gonna be okay’.

You feel Cal tracing over a relatively fresh wound on your arm with his fingers, as he looks deep in thought. Thanks to Cal, you got very few injuries yourself, this one being from when you two escaped the Wookiee’s home planet.

“This is all my fault,” Cal says suddenly.

“Huh? What is?” you question. He doesn’t answer immediately. 

“When the Second Sister tapped into our comms on Kashyyyk…” he starts, and you don’t like where this is going. “If I had noticed–”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” you interrupt him. “She played dirty. It’s no one's fault. And certainly not yours.”

“But Cere, if she had told me… I still don't know if I can trust her.”

“She did save us from Bracca, though, didn't she?” you ask rhetorically. 

“… I guess.”

You take his hands in yours.

“Listen, what you need is a nap. You haven't had a break since this whole thing started,” you tell him, and BD beeps affirmatively. “See, even BD agrees! You sir, need a nap.”

“No, there’s no time to waste, I have to–”

“Go to bed is what you have to do. No ‘but’s,” you tell him, trying to sound like it’s final. “Remember what happened to Dathomir before you left? If you want to fight whoever comes your way, you need to rest and properly heal.”

“No, I–”

“Just a nap, Cal,” you insist, moving out from behind him and sitting at the edge of the bed so you can look him in the eyes. “Please. You’re exhausted.”

With you holding his face and looking at him like this, he doesn’t find it in him to fight you or the aching cries of his muscles anymore, so he finally gives in with a sigh. 

“Fine. But wake me up when we get there,” he says.

“I will,” you promise, and guide him to lie back on the bed. When you want to get up, he takes your hand.

“Will you stay with me?” Cal asks in a barely audible whisper. 

“Of course,” you answer just as softly. 

You lie onto your back with him on top of you, his head is on your chest as you run your fingers through his hair. His breathing starts evening out, and your mind drifts off, remembering how you met on Bracca, everything you went through together, all his tales from his time as a Padawan, and your chest tightens. He’s a wonderful person, incredibly resilient, with a heart so kind despite everything, it’s rare to find these days. You also remember that he sometimes forgets these things, so you have to remind him.

“You know you're doing great Cal, right?” you ask after a while in silence, and he lifts his head to look at you. 

“You'll finish Cordova’s mission,” you go on. “And everything will be fine.”

“How can you be so sure?” he asks, wanting to give in but not sure if he should yet. So much can still happen. But you just shrug with a smile.

“I just do,” you assure him. “Trust in the Force, right? I know we both do. It’ll work out.”

Being at a loss for words, Cal leans in, deciding to show his gratitude through a kiss. His lips meet yours and he’s pouring everything into it. And you understand all that he’s trying to communicate.

The kisses slowly start intensifying, and you need to scrape up a lot of self-control to push him off.

“As much as I'm enjoying this, you really need to sleep,” you remind him, slightly out of breath. Cal groans in protest against your neck, giving it a light nip.

“Besides,” you giggle. “I think we have an audience.”

Cal stops and looks up, following your gaze to the side of the bunk where BD is still on the table, looking from you to Cal and back with an inquisitive beep.

“You wanna get in here too, buddy?” you ask the droid and extend an arm, inviting him to join you. BD gives you a happy ‘beep-boop!’ and hops onto the bed.

He’s about to join the cuddle pile when he tilts his head looking at you two. Cal cups your cheek and looks at you lovingly as you smile up at him. BD takes a step back and you hear a shutter, like a picture just got taken. Now your attention is back on the droid. 

“...Did BD just…?” you ask, and Cal sighs.

“You weren’t supposed to hear that,” the redhead grumbles, sending the droid a half-hearted glare.

“Does BD take pictures of us often?” you question him with a chuckle, and an adorable blush spreads on Cal’s freckled face.

“Of you,” he corrects you. 

“...What?”

“For when I'm gone and… miss you. So I can look at you,” he explains, and now it’s your turn to feel the heat prickling your cheeks.

“Can I see them?” you ask after a moment. 

“Hmm, nope.” 

“What do you mean ‘no’? I wanna see!” you whine.

“They're my personal collection, sorry,” Cal says with a cocky grin, and you playfully roll your eyes at him and he laughs. 

Then you’re left in silence again, just looking at each other. Your hand comes up to gingerly trace over the scar on his nose and you can’t help a little smile; it’s your favourite scar of his. Some may say that a scar so evident would be bad or ugly, like an imperfection, but to you it adds to Cal’s handsomeness. It reminds you that despite everything he went through, he’s still here. With you. 

Compared to the boy you met all those years ago on Bracca, he had come so far. Grown so much. Become more confident and powerful.

When Cal raises a questioning brow at you, given your silence and the way you study his face, your hand comes up to the back of his neck, gently pulling him down to place a kiss on the bridge of his nose. Then you pull him back to your chest, and after a while, you can feel him finally dozing off. BD settles down next to you, and you give him a tired, thankful smile. 

“I love you, Cal,” you whisper into his hair after a while. “You’re enough. And I hope one day you’ll realise that.”

[epickiya722]

Kiya, I just re-read JJK, and just realized something, that Yuuji don't want to hear when Wasuke want to tell about his parents. Why do you think it is? Is Yuuji already have some ideas that maybe his parents' origin a bit "different" than normal? Is the same reason also with Megumi don't want to know about his father from Gojo?

Oooh, I had to really think about this one because it's often a topic I think about but yet has come to a complete understanding to.

But I'll try my best!

**

It has always been odd to me, to say the least, that Yuji wasn't interested in whatever his grandfather had to say about his parents. And then I take in account on what Yuji says later to Junpei about how he doesn't remember much about his father, alone remembers anything about his mother. Yet, the way he says this comes off more chill, than just sad. He's nonchalant about having little to no memories about his parents.

I think I have a clue as to why Yuji is like this when it comes to his parents. It's what he tells Junpei a little after about killing people, including curse users (bad jujutsu sorcerers). He doesn't want to kill anyone because then he feels that the very option of killing will force its way into his life (which does happen). The value of life would become ambiguous and he might start taking the people he does care about for granted. It's something that scares him.

What if this is why he doesn't want to hear about his parents? He wants to preserve the little memories he does have because he fears that whatever his grandfather may say could taint those memories.

Yuji, to me, comes off as a person who wants to move on from the past. He doesn't forget it. He learns from it. However, there are special cases where if he doesn't learn it then, what good would it do now?

Yuji may call himself dumb, but he is pretty sharp. I think he knew that whatever Wasuke was going to tell him was going to be bad and given what we know as the audience, it would be the case.

Yuji isn't the type to not say he's scared, he'll admit it. But he also may want to avoid problems that could put him in that predicament. It's hard to as the story goes on. But Yuji being Yuji, doesn't let it deter him from moving forward.

As I said before, he comes off as someone who wants to move forward, he doesn't want to linger the past, even if it's something hard for him to move past from. It's probably why no matter what Sukuna has done, Yuji still gets back up. He's not someone who wants to stuck in the past. He wants to advance.

Sukuna tends to do this from time to time, he'll bring up the past even something that happens moments ago just to antagonize Yuji or he'll be pretty prejudice about modern-day sorcerers.

Off topic, but this plays into a theory I have about how Yuji may not just be Sukuna's vessel, but the modern-day version of him.

Now, with Yuji possibly having a clue that his and his parents' origins may not be so normal? I believe it.

Again, Yuji isn't a total idiot. He may have picked up on Wasuke wanting to tell him something dire given how eager he is to bring up Yuji's parents. In canon, Yuji has been shown to pick up on things fast. That memory Yuji has in 143? Yeah, I have a feeling that Yuji figured out how Kenjaku is connected to him and it's part of the reason why he accepts Choso being his big brother.

Yuji is probably very much self-aware about how abnormal his abilities are and just knows it may have to do with his parents. He's also reacts to things the way no one else may have. Sometimes, I feel like he may be playing dumb to hide how he truly feels and thinks. Maybe in a way to blend in to not freak out others more than he has. He has stated he's a loner and it probably comes from not knowing anyone else just like him. So, he tries to blend in. Yuji can't hide his physical prowess, so why not pretend with something else?

It reminds me of how Kenjaku acts and thinks, it's pretty similar.

Kenjaku - hops from body to body, taking the place of that person, almost hiding in plain sight, they act to appease others for their own gain but also not to feel so alone (note how even when Sukuna and Uraume is annoyed by them, Kenjaku still hangs around when they don't have to)

Yuji - pretending to be the way he is to appease others (he is pretty selfless), make others feel comfortable around him so he doesn't feel more alone than he already is

In the way they both think, let's compare how Kenjaku thinks about optimizing cursed energy and merging mankind with Tengen to Yuji and movies. They look past the surface of those topics. And anything they come up with leaves others questioning how they even came to that conclusion.

Funny scene it may be, but think about how Yuji reacted to Nobara freaking out about him punching a wall. He acts like it's nothing, yet no one could have punched through a wall like that. Not a normal human and not even a jujutsu sorcerer without using cursed energy. Remember, they can tell when each other is using cursed energy so all those times Yuji has amazed someone, he's doing all of that without cursed energy. Another instance is when Megumi remarks he's adept. Yuji just goes "Oh, really?"

Similarly, Kenjaku kinda also has this attitude where they're just not at all fazed by some things, just in a more sinister way. They're amazed and think highly of themselves, opposite of Yuji who doesn't even care for titles, yet just like Yuji does it in a "shrugs it off" attitude.

Anyways!

Now, in the case of Megumi, I say his reason is similar, but with a slight difference.

Megumi also comes off as the type to want to move from the past. Reason being, like Yuji, what good will it do? But I also think that with Megumi he accepts the misfortune that comes to him, that he awares of it. I say he's also nonchalant, but in a more pessimistic way than Yuji.

While Yuji wants to preserve the good, Megumi is already prepared for the bad.

Taking his first meeting with Gojo. Gojo mentions his dad and Megumi states he doesn't care. I believe he genuinely doesn't care. Even if Toji and his stepmother had good reasons to abandon him and Tsukumi, it's like no matter what they still abandoned them. Nothing anybody could say can lighten that blow.

Also, it's the person delivering the news to them.

Wasuke may have been shown just little, but from the scenes he does have, you can tell he's the person who doesn't want anybody in his family to be left in the dark and in danger. Wasuke wanted to tell Yuji about his parents because he cares and he doesn't want Yuji in potential danger, just as Jin may have been. Wasuke is family and for years he may be wanting to tell Yuji about his parents but Yuji shoots him down every time, used to it.

With Megumi and Satoru, the latter is a total stranger to the kid. Any kid would be just as skeptical as Megumi had been to Satoru. What if Satoru was about to lie to him? What would a teenager know about his father that he hasn't seen in who knows how long?

That's all I really can say! Went in a tangent there, kind of long, but I hope I answered your question in some way.

[chrissy-kaos]

Hey!!

I just wanted to tell you I think it’s so cool how you continue to play hockey even if it’s a beer league! I mean I don’t know what good adult leagues there are when you’re older really 😅

I miss playing hockey so much and I always just figured it would be impossible to get taken seriously by judgmental fucks. I love that you make history even though you’re just yourself. I do sort of despise some of the things I’ve heard in the locker room too tbh.

It’s so amazing to see you gear up and get sweaty. It makes me some how feel seen too and I feel like I need to just figure it out lol. I know your kicking ass out there (cus I saw u posted ur stats) lol 💜 hope you have a good rest of your weekend 💜

Thank you! Yea posting about me playing wasn’t something i was really going to do. But everyone here seems to love that content and they continue to ask for it. So I’m going to keep posting it. I don’t think I’m anything special or making history. I’m just a girl that wants to play hockey. That’s it. If I inspire others to play than that’s awesome! Because hockey is amazing and growing the game is important! With that said I’m going to share a bit of a story with you. So bear with me.. I tend to over share 😅

Hockey is something I’ll never give up. For a long time my life centered around it. I’m fortunate enough to live in a town that’s had multiple pro teams and a great hockey community. I used to coach/play for one of the teams before my transition. When I was debating if I was going to transition or not hockey played a part in it for sure. I didn’t want to never play again. But I was scared that people wouldn’t accept me and all that. I felt like majority of the community liked me and enjoyed my coaching. But you never actually know how someone feels about it, ya know.

When I finally made my decision I was coaching full time and I decided to step away from hockey not necessarily for good but until I was comfortable with myself. So I resigned and hung my skates up. Then started my transition. It was a little after two years into my transition when I decided to step on the ice again. I had played some roller with a few friends and messed around stick handling in the house but I never went back to the rink.

(I actually find this hilarious 😂.) I seen they had a skate and shot and decided I’d go to it. Not skating for two years I needed to get my legs back anyway. So I show up to the rink. It’s still all the same people that worked there when I did. I walked up to the counter to pay and my friend Josh was working and said “hi ma’am, here for stick time?.” He had no idea I started to transition. I said “hi, Josh.” He looked at me like I was crazy and asked if he knew me. I gave him the money and said “you might” then walked away. He stopped me to tell me where the women’s locker room is. I smiled and said thank you.

I skated like crap. To be expected tho. After the time was up I headed to the locker’s. Josh stopped me and asked how I knew him. So I told him who I was and it blew his mind 😂. He congratulated me and said he had no idea. He told me he was thinking to himself damn this girl is good(I actually suck lol). He was like who the fuck is she?. He thought I was one of the college players. Our local college and pro team share the rink together. Anyway he was completely blown away. The interaction was great and positive. He was very supportive. After that I started coming once a week and more people realized who I was.

Everyone was extremely supportive and accepting. They use my chosen name and pronouns. Even offered me a coaching position again. I declined for reasons. But the hockey community in general is amazing. I felt comfortable enough to hop in our league. It’s our house A league so all the best players current pros, ex pros and d1-3 guys. It’s extremely competitive. I’m still the only girl ☠️ lol

Now I can’t speak for any other community but at no point in time have I been treated bad or different. I’m given the same respect as everyone else. Do guys talk in the lockers probably but they are nothing but respectful and courteous to me. If you want to get out and play don’t let anyone stop you.

Hockey is for everyone and you deserve to play too! Just go for it! You never know unless you try. Hockey has one of the best lgbtqiia+ communities in all of sports. There are teams like @teamtrans-icehockey where you can play with people like us who understand the difficulties of being trans/nb/queer in sports. I’ve played with teams trans a few times and they are an incredible group of people! I highly recommend checking them out! 

(I took this pic the on the way to the rink that first time back. Don’t mind the filter and how pudgy I am 🫣)

[ladykailitha]

Can Anybody See Me? Part 19

Hello, hello. While this is technically Steve’s first performance, you won’t actually get to see him act until later. There are plot reasons why. Like ‘planned from the very beginning, the whole reason for this story in the first place’ reasons why. ;) But Steve gets some good news.

And for those of you who missed the poll and it’s results, this story is going to be running until the end of season 4 (or potentially season 5 depending how long this takes). I will be prioritizing the shorter fics for posting because they will get done long before this one will, but I will still keep updating it.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16  Part 17 Part 18

*

Steve woke up the following morning feeling relaxed and more than a little pleased with himself. His body was humming with a nervous energy and he was giddy with it. He double checked his backpack to make sure he had everything he needed for today and then dashed out the door.

Today was his first performance and he couldn’t wait. He pulled into the parking lot of the school and hopped out. The only downside to this whole performance thing that he could see was that he was missing out on swimming class all week. Coach Hall was fine with it especially since Steve wasn’t the only one on the team that was in the play, just the team’s most prominent member. Plus they still had the after school practices.

He pulled up to the school parking lot to see that Eddie was waiting for him. Janice and Marty, too. Once they got to the auditorium, Marty and Eddie went one way and Janice and Steve the other. Steve could feel the hum of excitement vibrating off of everyone in the cast. This is was it, their dress rehearsal.

Thankfully no one threw up, but the kid playing Robert Lee looked a little green. Steve saw the kid playing McNair rubbing his back as he tucked his head between his knees.

The lights dimmed and the bell began to toll. This was it.

*

Steve had stumbled a couple of times, but so had a couple of the others. First time jitters, but Steve was practically jumping up and down afterwards. He and Janice hugged.

“Oh my god,” Steve said. “You were amazing!”

Janice blushed. “Me? Dude, you added a little bit of sass to the part that just...rocked.”

Steve blushed. “I only hope that Miss Lucy feels the same.”

Janice nodded.

They all piled into the choir room and sat nervously waiting for her to come in. Miss Lucy always talked to stage crew first because the notes were shorter and more to the point. “Hey, this light didn’t go off at the right time,” or “hey, you need to hold the light on Hancock a little longer.”

Notes for the actors tended to be a bit more messy. They all tensed up when she walked in, sitting up straighter in their seats.

“Not bad, everyone,” Miss Lucy began. “I saw a lot of little jitters, but that’s normal. Especially since we had a few newcomers this year. But I do have some notes.”

She broke down all her notes and finally came to Steve. Janice held his hand.

“You’re still lacking the strength of emotion needed for the Gen. Washington line,” she said. “You have to really sell it. ‘Lately I’ve had the oddest feeling that he’s been―writing to me.’ Really sell that feeling of intimacy between you and the general.”

A bunch of the kids snickered and Steve blushed.

“What are you, children?” Miss Lucy barked out. “Intimacy isn’t just sex for crying out loud. It’s about knowing someone so closely, so well that you just feel like you’re safe. Like you understand them and they understand you in ways others would struggle with.”

Steve nodded.

“But I loved how cheeky you made Thomson,” she finished. “I would have liked to have to seen that during rehearsals, but I like it. Definitely keep that up.”

“I got in front of the kids and I goofed it up a bit,” Steve explained, blushing.

Miss Lucy laughed. “I can see that. Very nice.”

Steve ducked his head as Janice rubbed back in encouragingly.

Miss Lucy went on with the rest of her notes and then they broke up.

*

They still had to go to their last class of the day. Which Steve had been grateful. The pottery teacher already hated him, and the last thing he wanted was to have to been late or gone because he was pretty damn sure that Mr Lovett would have docked him points on his attendance even though he was supposed to have been excused.

He walked into the class and sat in the back with his head down as usual. One of the girls in the class, Mr Lovett’s pet, Mindy Jones turned around at him sneered.

“Well if it isn’t the fairy,” she drawled. “You take it up the ass now, too?”

Steve’s head rocked back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Everyone knows drama is for fags and freaks,” Mindy snarled. “And hanging out with Munson...it’s pretty safe to assume you’re both.”

Steve laughed. “You do realize that your favorite actors were in drama school, right? You really think that Tom Cruise, Harrison Ford, or Rob Lowe are gay? That makes no sense.”

She rolled her eyes. “They don’t cake on makeup the way you theater freaks do. Don’t even try and compare the two.”

Steve licked his upper lip and smirked. Thankfully he was saved from answering by the literal bell calling the class to session.

He was doing better in the class, having learned from watching the other students around him. Which made Mr Lovett angrier because he couldn’t dock him in good faith. And Steve knew he didn’t want to test it far enough for his parents to show up at the principal’s office. So the teacher made his life miserable in other ways.

Sneering at his color choices. Scoffing at his rudimentary skills, even though this was a beginner’s class. They all had rudimentary skills, for fuck’s sake. But it never seemed to be good enough for him and he would make sure to praise Mindy in the same breath he degraded Steve.

He didn’t even know why it wasn’t a half year like it was at the middle school. Which chucklefuck decided that yes what this school needed was a year long beginning pottery class? It was horrible.  

He suffered through the class and shuffled out, his head throbbing. He slammed into the lockers when Mindy deliberately hip checked him on her way out.

Just then another counselor just happened to be passing by.

“Mr Harrington?” Mr Cole asked, rushing over to help him stand. “Are you all right?”

Steve nodded. “The smell of clay makes my head ache sometimes.”

“Then why are you in the class?” he asked.

Steve frowned and then winced. “Mrs Hall told me I couldn’t change the class.”

Mr Cole blinked. “Last semester. But it’s new semester, Mr Harrington, you should be in a different elective now.”

“It’s not year long like drama or choir?” he asked, confused.

“No, who told it was?”

“Mrs Hall?” Steve said, but it was more like a question. He didn’t understand what was happening.

Mr Cole’s spine straightened and his tongue dragged along his top lip. Steve could feel the anger radiate off the counselor and he gulped.

“Follow me, Mr Harrington,” he said coldly. “I’ll get you sorted out.”

Steve dutifully followed him to his office and sat down. Mr Cole vanished down the hall and a moment or two later he could hear raised voices. Then a third was added.

Two minutes later Principal Higgins and Mr Cole were walking through the door.

“It appears there has been a mix up involving your schedule,” Principal Higgins muttered, looking sidelong at Mr Cole. “Mr Cole will be handling your school file from now on. Have a nice day.”

Principal Higgins left, leaving behind a smug Mr Cole and a baffled Steve.

Mr Cole smiled at Steve. “Just let me pull up the available courses for you and we’ll get you taken care of.”

They went over all the options and decided that since Steve already had all the credits he needed to graduate that he could have a free period instead. And yes that meant if he wanted to, he could go home after lunch on odd days. Or even after his English class if Steve wanted. Mr Cole printed him out a note that he could hand to teachers if they thought he was playing hooky and let Steve go.

“Thanks for this,” Steve said, on his way out.

“You’re welcome,” Mr Cole said with a smile. “It’s our job to make sure kids receive an education, not enact petty vendettas against students.”

Steve nodded and slipped back out into the hall. He made sure he was far enough away before he leapt into the air, whooping and yelling for joy.

*

Steve ran out to the parking lot, hoping Eddie was waiting for him. He nearly slumped over in relief when he saw that he was. He looked around him briefly before launching himself at his boyfriend.

Eddie had to take a step back to catch him so that they wouldn’t fall over.

“Whoa, there, big boy!” he said with a chuckle. “Someone is unusually happy coming from Mr Lovett’s class.”

Steve kissed him soundly. “That’s because I never have to return to that horrible man’s class ever again.”

“And how did you manage that one, sweetheart?” Eddie asked, holding on to the back of Steve’s head as they swayed back and forth.

So Steve explained. “I still don’t know how Coach Hall and Mrs Hall are married. Like you couldn’t find two more diametrically opposing people on the planet.”

Eddie laughed. “One of life’s greatest mysteries. But I’m happy for you, babe. Insanely jealous, too. But mostly happy.”

Steve’s laugh joined his. “Don’t worry though, I won’t cut out on you. I’ll just do my homework during that time so I can spend even more time with my hot boyfriend.”

Eddie tilted his head thoughtfully. “I approve.”

Steve playfully shoved him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Yup,” Eddie agreed. “I was just waiting for you in case you needed to bitch about Mr Lovett.”

Steve gave him a quick peck. “And that’s one of the many billion reasons, I adore you.”

Eddie blushed. “Go on, pretty boy. I’ve got homework and you’ve got fit into that tiny Speedo.”

Steve laughed again. He put his bag in the trunk of his car and swapped it for his swim stuff.

He waved at Eddie as drove by. Today was a good day.

***

Part 20  Part 21

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