#I need to kneel before him in any capacity

[zombiequeenblog]

Without spoiling too much there was a part of the movie that just made me go. I know Zombiequeen is going to feel that instantly.

hahaha was it that business with his shoe?

or the insane shot of him lounging on that chaise backstage?

There were so many parts I felt so deeply, the ghovie is going to ruin my life and I need to own it now.

[catdia]

Sevika with a Chubby S/o pt.2

Sevika is a very jealous and prideful individual. she doesn’t take kindly to others that try to take you away from her

when Finn tried to get you close to him, she killed half his goons as a warning

teaches you basic self defense, how to use your body as an advantage in combat

ended with both of you making out on the practice mats

gave you a knife and handgun as a birthday present

all your clothing is automatically hers as well. loves wearing your shirts and hoodies when running errands

Sevika has MASSIVE hips, she doesn’t like them that much because pants never fit her waist right. but you love them!

and you also don’t like when pants highlight your underbelly. if she sees your belly in any capacity she’s grabbing that thing like a vice

uses your stuff before you ever get to. that new Piltovan skin care you got? Sevika gives it 10/10

eats all your snacks, even the healthy ones that taste “like cardboard”

the scar on her temple gets sensitive with the cold, uses your tummy as a heating pad when cuddling

one of Sevika’s love languages is bringing you fresh vegetables and fruit she smuggled from overseas

seeing your eyes sparkle in delight as you eat the sweet fruits makes her love her shitty job a little more

she got your nickname “peach” because of your love of fruit (and your fat ass)

if there is a place on earth that can be considered hell is when your periods sync up. Both in pain and grumpy.

when it’s just you, she gives you princess treatment (more than usual). even going as far as making homemade soup

i believe Sevika doesn’t get her period as frequently as she used to. mainly thanks to the amount of Shimmer she uses

Shimmer is the reason you almost had a terrible fall out. it was doing your woman more harm than good. making her extremely aggressive to the point where she threw and broke the matching clay mugs you gave her as an anniversary present. you spent almost two months making them

all of this because you threw away her last Shimmer supply. you just couldn’t she her like that anymore

you sobbed as you collected the pieces of the floor. so preciously putting them on your lap as she just watched in horror. Sevika had never seen you so broken. What had she done?

Sevika kneeled in front of you trying to make everything right. picking up little colorful shards of the floor. but you pushed her onto her feet. you pointed at the door.

“Get out…”

“Peach, please I—“

“Get the fuck out Sevika!”

she spend the next few weeks crashing in Silco’s office. drinking her sorrows away. while going cold turkey off Shimmer

remembering your soft cheeks stained with tears and trembling shoulders. she never had seen you so angry

once she had the courage (and by that I mean Silco and Jinx kicking her out for beign love sick) to come back home, she didn’t grasp how much she actually needed your love

it was a positive sign that you let her in. like a silent “prove me wrong”

you made her sleep on the couch for weeks. ignoring all Sevika’s attempts of affection. walking away when she got too close, not drinking the coffee she made for you in the mornings, covering your body quickly whenever she walked into the bathroom after your showers

Janna, did she miss having your body on hers. having you cuddle her to sleep. now she is stuck in this ratty couch. she missed how you moaned, what you tasted like. Sevika was unbelievably horny

but she needed to wait for you to make the first move out of respect for the pain she caused

when she was sleeping on the sofa you woke her up by grinding your cunt on her thigh. only wearing your night robe. open in the middle, nipples hard and belly creasing on your pelvis. you placed her mechanical arm on your temple. cradling her metal palm with your lips

“Fuck me like you mean it, ‘vika! Make me your woman again.”

Sevika saw the fire in your eyes, and the burn was a prize she was willing to take

you kissed each other hard, clawing at clothing and skin. teeth clashing. every touch was personal. sensual. like a withered plant in water

even if the sun never warmed the underground it didn’t matter to her. because the sun couldn’t ever bring her life like you did

Sevika had never made love before. only saw sex as carnal lust. but having you vulnerable in front of her and having given her forgiveness was the best gift she could have asked for. the gift of hope and chance. she touched you like a lover, a soulmate.

you laid naked on her chest, blissed out in pleasure. in the afterglow of sex. Sevika groping the flesh of your ass. as she blew cigarette smoke into the air. you were going to complain about the smell in the morning.

“I quit Shimmer.”

you smiled into her exposed skin. Sevika was a blunt woman, and you appreciated that part of her.

“Good.”

“Love you, doll.”

“Mmmm — me too Sevika.”

and you definitely made her go to one of those pottery couples classes to replace the mugs she broke

Sevika wasn’t getting off thaaattt easy

[thedarkestrivernymph]

Soft Yandere! Clan Leader x Wife!Reader

warnings: self-hatred, insecure! reader, nudity, only brief mentions of nsfw themes

genre: fluff, comfort

©Copyright -2024-thedarkestrivernymph - All Rights Reserved

You felt hot, flashing pain trickle down your throat to settle in the depth of your chest—lungs aching from the strain, face nearly purple as you held a bated breath, eyes squeezed shut, trying your best to avoid his gaze.

“I am sorry—” your voice was all but a meek squeak. “—I know this wasn't what you were expecting.” nimble fingers curled and tugged at your robes, keeping them positioned in front of you bare state—as you couldn't help but bow your head in utter shame, feeling the weight of your imperfections bear down on you.

The man hovering above your kneeling form remained silent, opting for assessing and scrutinizing you with the sharp whiplash of his gaze alone.

“I know—you're unhappy about this—my family will repay the trinkets your clan gifted us so graciously. Just please don't act rash and revoke the marriage—” you couldn't even finish uttering the words wobbling from your quivering lips before a sob ripped free from your throat and you just had to bury your face into the silkiness of your robes.

There was a sigh, then a long pause as you wailed, bashfully, scrambling to try and hide as much of your figure as possible, feeling slimy and dirty, hideous even, to have thrown yourself at the head of one of the biggest clan’s like a loose woman—as if you held your legs open for just anybody.

“Calm your nerves.” his voice was gruff, tinged with exasperation, as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your forehead to trace your hairline and find a rhythmic pattern petting your crown. “I will do no such thing, my bride, can't you even look at me?” he was kind, much too kind towards something as filthy as you were.

“I cannot—” you rasped between laboured breaths and high-pitched mewls muffled by your bloated bottom lip; bitten raw.

“You're upset. Why are you so saddened? What has caused you anguish? You're my wife—you do not need to lower your gaze in shame.” he whispered tentatively and before you knew it, he had peeled away the annoying piece of fabric obscuring your adorable sniffling face from him. “Do not cry. Our families expect of us to lay together—but if you fear it this much, we can wait. I can wait, my wife, why won't you calm?” chiffon, something akin to a gentle breeze caressing you—that’s what his voice was like, lulling you into a daze; sweet candy to lure you out of your hiding.

So, finally, scraping together all the courage you had, you raised your gaze to meet his, immediately regretting it, as the gentleness in his, so misdirected at something as ugly as you were, made you burst out into another fit of hysterics. “No, no, no. You're—you’re just too nice. Throwing myself at you like a whore—you deserve better. A refined lady. That's what you need and our clans expect—but I am no such thing. I—I am hideous, please, stop looking at me with such kindness. I apologise, husband, I am ruining the first night and I can't just stop and—”

“Breathe” you felt your cheek press into a chest and finally the furrow between your brows eased as you let something almost primal escape you, breaking down all too horribly until your head throbbed in an ache and your nose was stuffy and runny—and while you unleashed your inner demons, he was petting you, cooing at you, reminding you to stay grounded.

“My wife—” he chirped once it was over and you exhausted your capacity to cry any further, sinking into the soft covers of your martial bed like a heavy sack of sand, “I am blessed to be yours.” you felt him interlace his thick fingers with yours, brushing over the back of your hand subtly yet affectionately, as the moon filtered through the curtains to lay strips of silver across you both.

“Can you even imagine how much I yearned for this very moment? To claim that you're mine, not just in spirit—with our two clans permanently intertwined? Since the day you passed by me at the market all my waking moments have been filled with longing for you. So how could you ever call the woman I love all these distasteful names?” he chased away all the bad thoughts as your numbed body laid against his, arms so powerful you were sure they could've squeezed you to death if he was lying, but it didn't seem so—not him, not the most perfect man you knew, the one you were certain deserved better than you.

“You're silent, my wife.” he paused. “It seems your husband lacks the ability to truly convince you of his feelings.” he pressed a kiss to your crown, sighing softly while scooping you closer to his warmth. "Do not fret. We have our entire lives left. If you cannot trust me yet, then I will teach you how—I will convince you of my earnest feelings, even if it takes a lifetime. Because—” he pressed a kiss to your forehead this time, staring down at your bare form beneath the covers, cuddled up in his arms, with tears smeared across your cheeks so beautifully. “ask and I would even bring down the moon for you.”

[evilmenshoe80]

ADAM & MIKA

The meeting  

(WARNING: this is a guitarhero endgame fic with past adamsapple, don't like don't read, pretend I don't exist and that's it, thanks! ❤️)

It was a beautiful morning in the garden of eden. The birds were happily singing announcing a new morning, the breeze of the wind gently rocked the trees, generating a pleasant melody that filled the entire place, the warm rays of the sun filtered through the trees creating a beautiful yellow and orange collage in the skin of the first man, Adam.  

He slowly opened his eyes, taking a moment to fully awaken, before rising with a yawn. It had been a decent night, no nightmares after what he had feel like an eternity of waking up crying in the middle of the night, maybe his father took pity of him an removed his capacity to dream, that would be the best, something he would gladly accept, why dream? When the two beings that he loved the most abandoned him without a doubt.  

Lucifer, his best friend, his guardian angel, the one that guided him on his first years of existence, the only one that didn’t kneel when god presented him because in his own words “they were equals”, the angel that had made beautiful promises of a bright future for both of them.......the angel he hated and loved.  

And Lilith, his wife, the first woman, the other half that he didn’t knew he needed, the other fundamental piece of God's plan so that both could give birth to humanity, his equal as a human....his first love and the person he though it would be by his side forever. 

 

He remembered the day he saw the two for the first time. 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~ 

The earliest memory he has of his existence was waking up in a room full of light, with creatures similar to him, but not exactly like him, their shape was similar to his, but most of this beings were taller, easily covering him with their body, they had wings, their body was covered by a strange material, some had two eyes, others only one eye and some had many more than two and as a weird extra, they all had a weird looking golden shape above their heads, gently floating and following them everywhere they moved.  

But despite the strange look of these beings he didn’t feel scared or threatened in any way, he actually feel at peace, at ease, like he belonged there despite so many eyes looking at him, As he moved his gaze around, inspecting his surroundings, it landed on the figure next to him. A figure that left him speechless, this one has more similarities with him, but like with the other creatures it had some differences, the middle of her body was smaller, her hair was longer and with a lighter colour, similar to the light that shined in the place, her skin a different tone just like her eyes, which also were sharper than his, but with a similar light, she was beautiful, the woman looked at him with the same curiosity.  

Before he could try to form a word, an imponent yet gentle voice filled the room, silencing the whispers of the other creatures and making both humans turn around to face the origin of it. Their father, the creator of everything, god. Their voice was strong, with clear autorithy but at the same time, it was the most calming and beautiful sound adam remembers to ever hear, no singing of any other being or instrument could compare to the beauty that it was the melodic voice of the supreme being.  

“Adam, Lilith, my perfect creations” said the being of light “I welcome you to the world” 

“w-who are you?” said the first man, in a trembling voice that was more for lack of experience that for being afraid 

“i’m your creator, you can call me father”  

After some time of pure silence and of the first humans looking at each other, both with the same confused expression, lilith asked in a curious tone.  

“why...did you create us?”  

“I created you so you can start a new world togueter, new life, a new race, the human race, that’s your purpose”   

“purpose? What's that?” asked the first men  

“It’s what gives a reason to exist to every being that I create, and yours, it’s to create new life”  

“why?” asked both humans at the same time  

To this question, god stayed silent for a whole minute, which make the angels feel nervous and start whispering again, not because god didn’t knew the answer, they knew, but their father not wanting to answer right away had a meaning none of the humans could handle, at least not yet, so, god only answered: 

“because the universe cannot exist without it” said the creator, making the angels shut their bickering again.  

Both humans stayed silent and before either of them could ask another “why?” the father of everything pointed their stare at one of the angels in the room. A short figure with white skin, his cheeks adorned with blue dots that matched with his crystal blue eyes, golden hair that was decorated with a big blue hat with a golden ribbon, and a blue tunic that moved gently with the fluttering of his golden wings.  

“Lucifer”  

At the mention of his name, the angel spread his wings and approached the center of the room where God and the humans were standing.  

“Yes, father” the angel made a reverence  

God pointed their gaze at lilith and adam again “the name of this angel is Lucifer”  

Lucifer made a reverence to both humans 

“what’s an angel?” asked lilith  

“another of my creations, his purpose is to teach and protect you, guide you through the paths of life” he pointed his stare at every angel in the room “that’s the purpose of all of them”  

At this, all the angels started to kneel, understanding the weight of their creator words. Yes, all of them, except one. The angel that was at their side, lucifer. All the room was in a dense silence, the angels looking at each other and some at lucifer without daring to say anything. The humans stared at each other, like trying to get some answers, though both of them where in the same situation, neither knew why suddendly the atmosphere had become more than tense, suffocating.  

God seemed to be staring at lucifer, with an expression no one in the room could really read, everyone were expecting, waiting for god’s next words, their next reaction.  

“Lucifer” said the lord with a calm but firm tone 

“yes, father?” answered lucifer with a smile  

“Guide adam and lilith to eden” he looked at the humans “your duty is to name all the animals and plants in the garden, let your curiosity lead you to create new things” then he looked at the other archangels, lucifer’s siblings “accompany them, any question that adam and lilith have, you shall answer them”  

“yes, father” answered the archangels at the same time  

“I will visit you once you have properly settled”  

And like that, in the blink of an eye god dissapeared. After some seconds the other angels began to get up and stretch. Their whispering started again.   

“I hope everything goes well” 

“they look so fragile”  

“do you think they can make it?” 

“I can’t believe Lucifer didn’t kneel”  

“I know, his new position is getting over his head”    

Both adam and lilith looked at each other again, restless, hesitating to approach each other wanting to search some comfort at being the only “humans” in the whole place, life? Race? Purpose? What did all that really mean?. These creatures seemed to be have a higher understanding of things, why did they needed them?  

“adam, lilith”  

Both humans turned towards the soft but playful voice 

“I’m so happy you are finally here, we all have been waiting to finally meet you!” said lucifer with a smile “I’m sure that both of you have a lot of questions, but don’t worry” he pointed his hands towards his siblings “we’ll help you understand”  

One of the angels behind lucifer reached his hand towards him, patting his shoulder.  

“yes, michael?” said lucifer with a bright smile towards his brother  

“can we talk for a moment?” asked his twin with a conflicted expression 

“right now? But we have work to do! Lilith and Adam need-” 

“I can’t believe you didn’t show respect towards father’s creations” said gabriel “you know how much father loves them, how much effort he put in making them!”  

“geez, calm down gabe, I made a reverence and that was enough for father, he didn’t got angry or complained about my behaviour”  

“wow, a reverence, how respectful” said uriel with his arms crossed and an unamused expression 

Lucifer’s smile twitched at his brother sarcasm but before he could answer, michael interfered  

“Luci, I know you don’t mean bad or try to be disrespectful, but, try to follow the protocole next time, As high of your position is now and as much patiente father has, we have to remember our place and duties, ok?” said michael, with a sincere smile, full of brotherly love towards his twin  

At this lucifer stayed silent for a moment, like analizing his brother’s words “ok mike” then, his crystal blue eyes landed on the humans, who were standing very close to each other, and looking at the tense scene in front of them “I promise to behave” said the angel with a smile that made adam’s spine shiver. 

~~~~~~*~~~~~~  

Adam blinked rapidly and shaked his head, finally standing and making his way towards the lake to wash up, breaking free from that memory that hunted his mind constantly, he tried and tried to not think about it, it hurted, everytime that he remembered lilith’s curious stare, how she smiled at him, the way she holded his hand when they were walking towards the garden for the first time, how the feel of her soft skin made him shiver and feel heat on his cheeks, it hurted, remembering lucifer’s soft touch on his shoulder, his friendly chatting and mischievous smile that filled his heart with something he couldn’t understand at the moment, it hurted, it hurted, it hurted, IT HURTS, STOP! 

His mind was begging, PLEADING for rest, so many things happened before the angel and the woman decided to leave him behind, but it didn’t matter if they were good or bad memories, they all made him feel bad, feel things he couldn’t name or understand at all, and that only served to increase his anger.  

Adam arrived at his favorite spot in the lake, he let out a little sigh of relief at the feeling of the cool water on his feet, he looked at his reflection for a moment  

“Eve” adam said in a sad tone, as if someone just asked him about who he was thinking about 

The second woman, his second wife, his third love but not less special, his other half, the person that was created from his rib to fill the void in his heart, while the extraction didn’t hurt, her creation left a scar on his body that burned once he woke up from his sleep, a burn that he could still feel once in a while, he noticed that it was stronger when he missed her, which was constantly.  

Her eyes were the first thing he saw, they were the same as his, golden, with long reddish brown hair, her skin a little lighter than his but with the same golden freckels and shine, she was a little shorter but not too much, and her smile, that sweet and kind smile that he loved so much, that made him forget about the mess in his head, the feeling of solitude 

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you Eve” adam practically whimpered, feeling the hot tears running down his cheeks at the memory of eve being kicked out of eden, of her squirming and crying, trying to reach him, begging mercy from the angels, he had never see the angelic beings like that, it was the first time he felt an odd feeling towards them 

He had tried to reach her, but he was stopped, they couldn’t risk to lose him too, he tried to beg to sera, to the archangels, to every angel that was present at the moment but the decision was made, eve would be kicked out of eden for disobeying the only rule in the garden and try to tempt him to sin too, “luckily” for him the angels arrived before he could take a bite of the forbidden fruit, saving him from an unfortunate destiny. 

But the worst about all of it, as if the whole situation wasn’t terrible enough, is that she wasn’t alone in this, someone had tempted her, tricked her into disobeying god and ignoring her husband advice, the two beings that he had loved the most.... 

Adam couldn’t contain himself anymore and started crying, letting out whines of pain, letting out all the tears he didn’t though he had anymore, he already cried so much before, until his eyes hurted, until he felt like he didn’t had more tears to shed, but it seems like he was wrong.  

Why no one wanted to stay with him? Why no one choose him? Why it seemed like they didn’t cared as much about him like they said? would it be better if he took the apple from lucifer when he offered it? Would things have been different if he had the guts to bite the apple when eve offered it too? should he have fought harder to be with his wife? Was she doing ok? Where lucifer and lilith doing ok? Did they though about hi- 

The bombardment of questions in his mind suddenly stopped when he felt the soft touch of a large but delicate hand on his shoulder, soft and warm, he turned his head slowly until he found himself face to face with the owner of that hand.  

Seraphiel, or “sera” to shorten, the seraphim that was in charge of the order and correct progress in eden, it was needless to say that was not the situation right now, they had loss two humans and a powerful angel to sin, the plans for the progress of humanity had been put on hold until they could fix the current situation, the veteran angels were becoming more impatient and worried every day, and sera didn’t visit him as often as before, he was sure that she was angry with him, dissapointed, Adam was sure that they all would give up on him, that they would look for another way to give birth to the human race without him, since he was unable to keep his partners by his side. 

Adam was ready for bad news, for her to guide him to god and for his father to turn him to dust, to what he originally was, that would be merciful he though, that would stop his pain, his worries, every bad though in his mind, but no, for his surprise nothing like that happened, sera had that gentle and motherly smile she always gave to him, there was hope in her eyes, she didn’t say anything but something in her stare told him she has found the solution for all their problems.  

Without breaking her silence, she slowly moved, revealing a bright figure behind her. 

Adam was blinded for a second, before he laid his eyes on the person in front of him, it was a human, another man.....a very beautiful one.  

He was tall, taller than him, with a strong build and beauty marks in different parts of his body, his skin tone lighter than his with pink undertones, hair on his chest, arms and legs, he was wearing a short yellow chiton around his waist like him, his hair was long and blonde, some locks standing out from his shoulders, and his eyes, oh father, his eyes were sapphire blue, sharp and intense, locked on his golden ones, his pinkish plump lips curled in a charming smile that had adam practically hipnotized, he couldn’t stop looking, who...who was him? 

“adam, dear” said sera breaking her silence “this is your new husband, his name is Mika” 

“H-h-h-husband?”Adam stuttered 

Sera nooded and looked at mika “Mika, this is your husband, adam the firstman” 

Mika’s smile got wider before approaching adam and kneeling in front of him “hello adam, I’ve been told a lot about you, I hope we can get along, I’m really excited to spend time with you” 

Adam felt his body heat rise “I-I-I've been hope really excited to time with you”   

Mika gave adam an amused stare before letting out a giggle 

“sucessful introduction, excellent” the higher seraphim though to herself, now it was up to Michael. The warrior angel could do it, she was sure, after all, Michael never failed. 

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

(HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!! I FINALLY FINISHED THE FIRST EPISODE OF MY ADAM & MIKA (human!Michael) FIC!!! AAAAAGH I'M REALLY EXCITED! And omg, to the great writers of this fandom and any other, my respect for you is 100000 higher now, I erased so many parts of the history so many times, how do you do it?! 😭

And I'll be honest with you guys, this au at first was just an excuse to draw and write michael x adam smut hehe but know I really want to write something more meaningful for them, and I hope to do a good job, I'll do my best for my guitarhero fellows 🤝💕

also, I know what you may be thinking, "it's ridiculous how adam is so sad at the start of the story for his past lovers but sees Mika and suddendly he's happy and in love!" adam is shocked by his new mates beauty, that's all, Michael's new body was made specifically for adam to like it and feel attracted to, BUT believe me, I plan to develop their relationship more before we start talking about real love

thanks and good night!!! 😘)

@bluefrostyy I remember you wanted me to tell you when the story was out so, here it is 👍

[yet-another-heathen]

Wick's Whump Drive - I

This is a commissioned piece for @light-me-on-pyre, who was kind enough to participate in my ongoing whump drive for Palestinian aid.

Want in? Donate $5/€5 or more to ANY Palestinian fundraiser, send me the receipt, and I'll write a custom whump drabble for you, too.

Prompt: "How would you write deconditioning?"

[ My lessons on how to write realistic conditioning can be found here. ]

---

TW | realistic whump recovery, emotional whump, brief argument, PTSD, flashbacks, intentional deconditioning attempt, implied past character death (whumper)

It wasn't the word itself this time. It was the way Caretaker said it.

"Kneel."

Whumpee went down hard. The mental cursing began when his knees were about two inches from hitting the ground. Too late to stop the movement. Plenty of time to hate himself for following through.

Where his knees hit, the jarring spike of stacking bruises felt like a punch. Failure.

Another. Fucking. Failure.

Whumpee groaned in frustration, hands balling in his hair. Then he was on his feet again, pacing. "Again."

"Whumpee, I think we've had enough for toni—"

"No! No, I need to try again! I have to get this right just once before I stop." He turned again on his heel, leaving another path in the carpet. "We keep going. I just— I just need to keep going."

Caretaker raised an eyebrow, not moving from where he knelt. With that endless patience that was beginning to grate on Whumpee's nerves, "...we have been at this for an hour. Your nerves are getting more and more frayed by the minute. You said yourself that this works best when you're calm."

"And what if I'm wrong?" Whumpee whirled around on him, tears in his eyes. "I keep failing. I've barely managed to stop myself three times this whole week. Out of what? Four dozen attempts? Five? Every time I quit I end up backsliding more and more. I can't keep giving up. This has to work."

"It will be easier—"

"Are you going to say it or not? You said you would help me!"

Caretaker looked taken aback. And just as quickly, his expression shuttered.

"What do you think I've been doing for the last hour?" he asked. "Don't forget— I still get to say 'no', too."

The reminder hit like a slap. Not because Caretaker was wrong. Because he was right.

It had taken everything Whumpee had just to keep making it through the practice sessions. With how bad things had gotten, he barely had the capacity to take care of himself right now. Let alone worry any of the people around him.

Was that how he'd been acting? Was that what Whumpee was denying him? Even the choice to be a part of this?

After standing there for another far too long moment, Whumpee let out a sigh and came back over to Caretaker. He slipped to the floor beside him, folding his knees up to his chest, back pressed to the couch.

Quieter, rougher, "...Yeah. Yeah, you do." He couldn't bring himself to look at him. "I'm sorry."

Although Caretaker didn't say anything, Whumpee could see the moment the tension in his shoulders let go. The fight passed over them like a distant shadow.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this," Whumpee murmured. He wrapped his arms around his knees, resting his chin on his forearms. "Between the nightmares and the memories... I'm just... I'm so tired." Quieter still, "I can't seem to get that monster out of my head."

"You've not been sleeping." It wasn't a question.

"...I've been trying to. I really have. But I end up just laying there, thinking the same five thoughts on repeat, over and over and over. Things haven't been this bad since—"

A flash of bright light. Wrists rubbed raw. Whumpee was doubled over, arms wrapped around himself. Screaming himself raw with a flood of relief and despair and a hundred other emotions that he could never admit aloud. Blood spreading on the cement floor. Blood that finally, finally wasn't his own.

Whumpee flinched, twisting his face away from the sight. As if this was something he could just look away from. As if the memories weren't printed into his retinas like the afterimage of lightning.

He took a few slow, steadying breaths, shaking on every exhale. Clenched his trembling hands, open and closed. Open and closed. Eventually he managed a raspy, "...since before."

Caretaker watched, worried. But he knew better than to reach for Whumpee without asking first.

"Whumpee... you've been butting up against this same block for weeks now. I've watched you try everything except the most obvious thing there is. You need to rest." Whumpee opened his mouth to say something, but Caretaker cut him off before he could argue. "—I'm not telling you to quit. I know why you can't, and I would never ask it of you. But there's a difference between giving up, and taking enough time to catch your breath before the next sprint."

Whumpee averted his eyes again, throat working against the burn of building tears. But he was listening.

Softer, "You said this was something you'd be working on for the rest of your life. If that's true, then there's time. For just a few days... give yourself some of the softness you went so long without. Take enough time to be gentle with the man you're trying so hard to save."

The words had hit their mark. He watched as Whumpee's face crumpled. His breath hitched once, and he broke into a sob. Then Whumpee finally reached out for him, and Caretaker didn't hesitate to pull him into hug.

He buried his face against Caretaker's chest, everything he'd been holding back falling apart at once. Pain. Despair. Hope. Grief. All of it came pouring out with his voice.

"There. I've got you," Caretaker murmured, closing his eyes. Exhausted, but relieved that something had finally gotten through. "...I've got you."

[makethatelevenrings]

Dick Grayson nsfw headcanons for v day

hehehehe

this boy is so talkative

before, during, and after his mouth is running faster than Wally West

"so pretty"

"squeezing me so tight"

"you look so good like this fucked out on my cock"

"what's that, baby? are you too cockdrunk to speak?"

his dick (haha) isn't very long, but it's certainly thick (much like him) and curves a little to the left

Dick loves to mark you up because when you undress, he can see the parts he has touched and loved

a hickey on your neck, a gentle love bite on your hip, the imprints of his fingers on your thighs where he held you down and ate you out

he's a switch 100%

sometimes he needs to be taken out of his head and so you take control and he appreciates it so much

he loves to serve you in any capacity, part of it is because he constantly feels the need to prove himself worthy of you no matter how many times you tell him that you don't need anything but his love

he'll quite literally get on his knees and worship you if you asked him

there are a few nights where he literally strips out of his suit and kneels on the floor, resting his head on your thigh as you stroke his hair

other times he's high-strung and needs to control the situation and you gladly accept submission under his hand

Dick is, ahem, very flexible and he will contort his body the perfect way to hit every fucking pleasure spot inside of you as he rams his cock into your hole

"made for me, weren't you? made to take my cock. perfect fucking fit, the way you're squeezing me so tight. god, i should just keep you home all day, sit you on my cock and keep you there"

hell yeah he does enjoy a good cockwarming

whether you're just holding his half-hard cock in your mouth or straddling his waist as he reads over some mission reports or paperwork for his Bludhaven revitalization. you're draped over his shoulders, face pressed against his neck as his cock twitches inside of your soaked hole. once he's done with his work, he'll fuck you until your legs can't stand

king of aftercare (all of the bat boys are tbh)

Dick is reaaaaally big on the verbal communication (again, the boy can't shut up) and he needs to hear reassurance from you that you're okay, that you liked it, what type of care you need

I don't think he's overly aggressive or into BDSM mainly because he doesn't want to use the same type of force that he uses on the criminal underworld on you

sweet boy but also not afraid to rough you up a little bit if you ask

just pls don't ask him to hit you because he would not be able to

aftercare for him is just cuddling and stroking his hair and assuring him that he's enough. he is good and kind and loving. he doesn't need to worry about you being unsatisfied.

all in all, he's a generous lover who overthinks too much and you might have to help him enjoy everything rather than dwell on stuff. also, he's a mouthy shit.

[verybadatwriting]

The Young General's Final Battle

Summary: Reader, the teenaged padawan of Kenobi, dies.

Warnings: Main character death (reader), crush injuries, blood, angst

Notes: Read the fluffier first part here!

Gn!Padawan!reader x (platonic) Kenobi and Cody

Word count: 629

A gentle hand rested on your shoulder pulling you out of your sleep.

“How long was I out?” You ask groggily. Speaking took more effort than normal, and your breath was hard to catch. It felt like your lungs weren’t operating at full capacity, like a bantha was sitting on you.

“Not sure,” Master Kenobi said, peering down at you. He was knelt on the ground next to you. The dust from the battle still swirled in the air, although you couldn’t hear any droids marching. That didn’t mean there weren’t any. You had to regroup with the 212th and prepare for whatever came next.

You were dully aware of some pain in your legs, but nonetheless tried to stand. For some reason, Master Kenobi pushed you back onto the ground, his hand never left your shoulder.

“It’s okay, Y/n” he said, taking your hand. “A medic is on his way. Don’t try to move.”

“What–?” You craned your neck to look at your legs. A massive boulder blocked your view. Kenobi gently pushed your shoulder back once again, this time onto his balled-up cloak, as a sort of cushion against the rocks. 

“No, no!” You resisted. “Master, we have to fight! The clankers will easily take the capital. Its defenses are too weak without us! We’ll lose the whole planet!”

“Vodika…” a new person approaches you from the right, uttering a strange word that you could have sworn you’ve heard before. Commander Cody copies Master Kenobi and kneels beside you and grasps your hand. His voice is even, measured, and reassuring. “It’s okay, we managed to push the Seppies back to their base while you were unconscious. The best thing you can do right now is rest here, where you’re safe, and get ready for tomorrow's battle.”

He ends his words with a small smile, one that hides something. Whatever it is, that can’t matter much right now. Cody said you’re safe, so you must be. The pain in your legs is a little more noticeable now, but Master Kenobi said the medic was inbound. You’d probably wake up in your tent in camp, all bandaged up. 

You’re not quite sure when you closed your eyes, but you knew Cody was gently stroking your head, lulling you to sleep. One by one your muscles untensed, and your breathing evened out into small, shallow puffs.

“Why would you tell them that?” Kenobi demanded of Cody. “We have to keep them conscious or… or they might not wake up!”

“Cyare,” Cody said. “I need you to listen. They’re not going to wake–”

“We just need to get them out from under the boulder.” Desperation made Kenobi’s hands shake as he lifted them towards the massive rock. Cody leaned over you, grabbing both of Kenobi’s hands in his own. He forced the General to look him in his eyes. 

“That boulder is the only thing keeping Y/n from bleeding out. The moment it’s gone there will be a torrent of blood and they will be dead in seconds. Do you understand?” 

Hesitantly, Kenobi nodded, finally starting to accept the gravity of the situation. 

“This way,” Cody said, reassuringly. “They’ll just sleep and get to… get to go in relative peace.”

“We’ll stay with them,” Master Kenobi said, regaining his normal composure. “It wouldn’t be right for them to be alone.”

“Of course.”

They ignored the distant sound of metal feet stomping across the ground. The only sounds that mattered were your small, rattling breaths drawing ever further apart until finally, they stopped altogether.

Cody reaches down and flags this location on the map. After the battle, which may take mere hours, or last days, they could come back to retrieve your remains. There is no time to grieve in this war. 

Tag list:

@arctrooper69

[fire-lizard-ro]

Could I request Argenti with a blind reader that asks to touch his face? Or maybe generally your thoughts on such a dynamic?

So I was finally able to get around to this one. It's so cute and I love it because of how Argenti is as a person but also because of the whole "beauty" thing. You'll see why in a minute.

This is going to be more of a headcanons format. Somewhat.

Reader gender is GN.

Disclaimer: This is all based on my thoughts as I have never personally known someone who was blind besides my grandmother before she passed so I don't really have anything to go on. Anything I say, I do not say to offend or by any way glorify being blind.

Writing under the cut (all SFW):

He's very understanding of it even upon your first meeting. While he feels a bit sorry because he understands life would be much harder for you, he's never looked down on you for it.

I doubt he's ever known anyone in a close capacity who was blind so there would be a bit of a learning curve for him.

Even with your struggles, he sees how you thrive and get by in life happily and he thinks it's beautiful. He thinks you're beautiful. To him, you shine and glitter as brightly as any star.

Contrary to what some might think- He is not perfect. I personally think that he would have some issues with being overprotective. Not only is he a knight, but he is your boyfriend! Your lover! He needs to be there for you as much as possible so you suffer no inconveniences or injury.

But you sit him down to explain to him that while you appreciate the gesture and his intentions... You don't like being treated like glass. It makes you feel less autonomous and it can feel condescending even if he didn't mean it that way.

He becomes much more knowledgable about your feelings and begins to understand how his actions can make you feel. And so he kneels in front of you where you're seated to apologize and kiss the back of your hand before bringing it to his face to lean into it after kissing your palm. Then he'd lean in to kiss you properly and whisper against your lips, asking you to teach him how to best help you. How to make things easier for you without being overbearing because all he wants is for your days to be full of joy and without hardship.

I can imagine how he guides you gently while out and about. OTL

Onto other things-

His deep understanding of beauty strikes again. He finds beauty in how, despite your struggles and limitations, you continue to live your life to the fullest. He admires that strength and thinks that you have good willpower. That strength of will is something any knight should have.

When came the day that you asked him to feel his face to get an understanding for what he looks like, he was delighted. He enjoyed when you gently took his face into your hands and ran them delicately over the planes and slopes of his face and told him he was beautiful. He somehow enjoyed your compliment more than anyone else's.

He always describes things around to you and even diligently studied to get better with words for that. He also did it befcause he'd like to show you other beautiful things since you couldn't see the sights he had through poetry. Sap. I hate him (affectionate).

Though he understood before that beauty was not just what you could see with your eyes, he finds deeper understanding the longer he is with you. It's in your every movement, sure of the world around you despite having not the sight to see it all. It's in your every word and in your every breath. It's in your very being.

It's especially in your understanding of what beauty was when one of your senses was not available to you, the one that most people use to judge beauty on. It's oddly in line with his ideals of beauty- I mean, come on. He was calling a plant, a regular degular plany with only green to color it, beautiful.

All in all, it's a beautiful (ha) relationship and the two of you are well suited to one another. Your chivalrous knight and his sweet lover.

Aaaaa~ Thank you so much for the request! It was super fun. :D

Feel free to send another on in if you wanna. I'm going to be working on the requests I haven't finished yet this weekend~

Apologies for any typos or hard to understand writing. I'll fix it tomorrey probably. >:D

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 3

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,592

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

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

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

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

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

“Ooh … thank you, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You exaggerate …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace?” 

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

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

“Good. And what else?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like a little preview?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I suppose I am.” 

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

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

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

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

Much to your gobsmacked surprise, he was right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette’s brows slowly lift. “Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O - okay …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please think nothing of it, monsieur Neuvillette …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… yes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean, monsieur?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, this was … 

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

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

“No, I suppose we don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought perhaps you could join me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, your grace. My apologies.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Much, your grace.” 

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

“Have you helped many ladies in their boudoir?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I don’t think so.” 

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

“Oh.” You blurt out, with feeling. 

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

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

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

“Do you want it tonight?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall I do it like this, sir?” 

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

“You’re the one who taught me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he finds your clit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swat! 

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

Swat! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

⭐

Crossposted: here

[anilovie]

could I please have some anakin fluff when the reader is on her period and every inch of her body are sore and the period pain is so painful? despite how he intense he could get during sex and all, I wanna see the gentle and loving side of anakin from you hihi, thank youu

hii thanks for the request!! i wrote a little something that’s been bouncing around in my head for a while, but if you want some more general thoughts on this just let me know!!

CW: whump + fluff, mentions of menstruation/blood/pain but nothing too graphic, f-implied reader

WC: 1.3k

You would try your best today — that’s all you could promise yourself when you woke up to the dreaded stomach pains, sore muscles, and the dark red spot blooming on your bedsheets; all signs pointing to a very unfortunate time of month.

It was a shitty way to start the morning, ripping your bedsheets off and throwing them in the wash and trying not to beat yourself up for making a mess, waddling around your room due to the sticky mess between your thighs. You hadn’t anticipated starting today— you were a few days early, which was just perfect, because of course you’d be on the heaviest day of your period when you had so much to do.

No matter how bad you wanted to stay in bed all day, you had to get your clothes on and join the rest of the hustle and bustle in the temple halls. The war didn’t stop for your period, after all.

Considering you were in a shit mood, you tried to avoid everyone and stuck to working alone. Anakin was also busy, which you were glad for. He didn’t need to see you like this.

But he, without fail, always made it a point to free up time in his busy days to see you. Somehow. Even if it meant swiping you from your own work to walk with him to the caf for a quick coffee run.

And of course. Of course of course of course. Right before he dropped you back off to let you go back to work, he leaned in real close and said:

“You okay? Do you need anything from me?”

His eyes subtly shifted downward, and then back up, and you full-heartedly wished the ground would just open up and swallow you whole.

“I’m good, Anakin, thanks,” you rushed. He was never embarrassed to talk about it, but for some reason you were.

How could he even tell??

“Okay,” he knew not to push, even though you were clearly lying. “Just come find me if you need anything, alright? I’ll see you tonight.”

He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead and pulled back with a small smile.

Just as soon as he turned to leave, a cleaning bot turned a corner too fast, one of its long metal arms flailing out too fast for you to anticipate. It slammed you in the lower stomach, right where it hurt the most.

“Shit—“ you gasped, arms instinctively wrapping around your middle, keeling over in pain. The droid was long gone by now, not having the capacity to understand what it did and scurrying back to duty.

Anakin swore a little too loud, turning right back around. He’d caught what happened out of the corner of his eye, forgetting about potential onlookers as he held you up with his arms, urging you back into an empty room and sitting you down in the nearest chair.

“Where’d it get you? Right there?” He was kneeling before you, brows creased in worry, subconsciously rubbing your arms up and down as his gaze pierced into the death grip you had around your middle.

Your eyes welled with pained tears, lip quivering as you struggled to keep your cool. “I’m okay,” you squeaked. “It was an accident.” But God, did it feel like your insides were being shredded up right now.

The cramps you’d been dulling with regular doses of painkillers came back full-force, twisting and pinching and radiating all through your lower abdomen, back, thighs— god, it hurt everywhere, and you really didn’t need this today.

That thought had a pathetic little whimper escape from your throat, and you would have been able to see Anakin’s heart break if you weren’t still hunched over, trying to diffuse any of the pain at all. Anakin’s hand roamed from your arm to your back, rubbing between your shoulder blades, giving you a minute.

“I’ll have to find that droid later,” he sighed under his breath, sinister. “But first, we should get you into bed. I don’t want you working any more today.”

The fact that you actually nodded in agreement was a very bad sign. Anakin wished he’d grabbed that stupid droid as soon as it passed you and broke its damn neck. Some sensors were clearly missing, anyways.

He wished he could carry you, but it was the middle of the day and too many people were walking around the temple. “Can you walk?” He asked tenderly, ducking his head to try and catch your eyes.

“Yeah,” you grit between your teeth, wincing as you straightened up and pushed yourself to your feet with a great big breath. It ached, the worst you’d ever felt, and you couldn’t walk without leaning forward, pressing a hand to your tummy as if it would help at all. Anakin took your other hand and led you out of the room, through the halls, and to your room.

His com started beeping as soon as he closed the door, answering it with an exasperated, “Not right now, Ahsoka. I’m busy.”

You’d have scolded him for snapping at his Padawan, but you were too focused on beelining to your bed, needing to sit again.

“Shit,” you swore under your breath. Your sheets were still in the dryer from this morning. “I forgot to make my bed,” you explained to Anakin once he caught up from the other room.

“Let me draw you a bath. I can make it in the meantime,” there was no room for argument as he slipped past you to the bathroom. “Come. Sit,” he held out a hand, almost stern, and once you took it, he nudged you to sit on the lip of the bath as he leaned in to twist the knobs.

He was mother-henning.

One of his hands remained on your knee as he fiddled with the knobs until he got the right temperature, testing it with his own hand before deeming it acceptable.

“Hands up,” he demanded, turning to you after shaking the water droplets from his fingers.

“Anakin, I can undress myself…” you cringed. Really, you didn’t want him to see how bloated and gross you probably looked. It’s how you felt at least. Even if you logically knew it wouldn’t even phase him, you’d rather take care of this business yourself.

“Alright,” he surprised you, giving in with little argument. “Can I just see, though? I want to make sure it didn’t bruise you.”

“I don’t think it did,” you said softly. “Just hurt really bad cause, yaknow… but you can see after.”

“Okay,” he stood, kissing you on the head on the way up. He grabbed a towel from the hanger behind the door and folded it on the sink for you to grab easily. “I’ll be right outside.”

“Aren’t you busy, though? You don’t have to stay with me.”

“I’m not busy,” he lied, and you gave him a pointed look. “None of it’s very important, at least.”

You were too tired to argue, plus you did really want him to stay with you. So you just nodded and whispered, “thank you,” as he closed the door.

With him gone, you finally allowed your face to twist into the pained grimace you’d been holding back, not wanting him to see how bad it truly hurt— was still hurting. Whatever that droid did, it must have knocked something loose, because it never usually hurt this bad.

With some deep, measured breaths, and lots of quiet swearing, you got undressed and cleaned up a little before getting into the bath, sighing in relief as your sore muscles relaxed in the hot water. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes, chest warming at the muffled sounds of Anakin walking around your room, making your bed and talking to someone on his com: something along the lines of, “Leave me alone, I’ll do it tomorrow. Yes, I’ve already given the report, have some faith in me, why don’t you? No, it wasn’t last minute— by the way, there’s a CC-4 walking around missing some sensors—“

You didn’t stay in the bath for long, not wanting to keep Anakin waiting. Plus, it was making you sleepy and you wanted to get into bed so you could sleep away your woes.

Cringing with every movement, you lifted yourself from the bath and rushed to get everything cleaned and covered before you made a mess on the floor. You pulled your robe on from its hangar and exited the bathroom in considerably much less pain, pleased to see Anakin finishing tucking the sheets into the mattress, having laid out some snacks and a big glass of water on your desk. As you grew closer, you also found a little napkin with some pain pills on it.

“You should take those,” he instructed over his shoulder, and you smiled softly, picking them up and swallowing them with water.

“Thanks for all this, Ani,” you said, crawling onto the newly made bed. “Are you really gonna stay?”

“Of course,” he pulled the blanket right up over you before you could even reach for it. “Obi-Wan’s covering for me. I’m all yours tonight.”

“You should buy him a cupcake or something, it’s very nice of him to do that,” you muttered, already reaching for his belt and tugging on it loosely . “Can you get in bed with me?”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckled, unclasping his belt and laying it carefully on your desk. He kicked his boots off and slid in right beside you, and you instantly sighed, melting into his warm chest, arms circling around you like it was second nature. He let you shift around until you were comfortable, leg slotted between his, draped half-on and half-off his chest, head tucked right below his chin.

Another achey cramp washed over you, urging you to take his flesh hand and direct it over your lower abdomen, right where it hurt the most; which was also where you got hit.

“You said you’d show me,” he reminded gently.

Your response was muffled by the material of his robes. “It’s not bruised. I’ll show you later.”

You couldn’t see, but he smiled at your slightly slurred voice, your smaller hands gripping his large one to keep it over your tummy. He loved knowing that just his touch could give you so much relief. “So sleepy,” he teased, lips skimming over your forehead.

He breathed you in deeply for a long moment, rubbing your tummy in gentle motions. It ached at first, but soon the motions and the warmth of his hand eased away the pains, massaging you with just the right pressure to make it feel much, much better. You sighed in relief.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel well,” he whispered, though you were already half asleep.

“‘Ts okay. It’s unavoidable.”

“I’m still sorry. I wish you didn’t have to be in so much pain all the time. I wish I could take it away from you.”

You almost laughed at what you could say in response to that, but he was being serious, so you were too. “You’re making me feel better now, Ani.”

He sighed, squeezing your waist with his metal arm. “I love you.”

“I love you,” you kissed his collarbone.

He huffed a gentle laugh, and you relaxed further into him, putty in his arms. Anakin just had a way of making you feel so warm and so safe, your brain just goes quiet whenever you’re around him.

He slowed his hand on your belly, easing the pressure just a bit so you could tumble into unconsciousness. Somewhere between watching you sleep, roaming his hands over each of your aching muscles, front to back, and fiddling with the ends of your hair, he followed you into unconsciousness.

[sapphires-and-silver-linings]

Half-Life | Chapter 5 Teaser

Here is a teaser for chapter 5. It has been like a year and a half since I last updated Half-Life, my god. My life has changed so much in that time (I graduated college, had health issues I'm still dealing with, struggled to find a job in my field so I'm now a nanny, had a breakup after being on and off for 6 years), but I was always going to come back to this story. If nothing major changes, once I finish this chapter, I will officially be halfway finished with this fic!

Masterlist

--------------------

Leon woke before you did, curled around Wolfie’s sleeping form. He stilled for a moment when he came to, the events of the previous night rushing back to him.

To ease his worry, he listened for Wolfie’s heartbeat to greet his keen ears. He let out a sigh of relief when the dog’s heart pattered strong and slow in his slumber, his rib cage expanding with a deep breath.

Leon then sat up, looking over to find you asleep on the couch in the same position he left you. You looked so peaceful, so serene. So beautiful.

Before he could stop himself, he crawled over to kneel next to your blanket-covered body and reached out his claws tentatively, stroking your hair that had fallen into your face. You stirred slightly but you didn’t wake, letting out a soft exhale. His palm remained where it laid upon the side of your head for a moment before he finally retracted it, knowing he was pushing his luck touching you like that.

He cringed when the memory of how he had gotten off to the thought of you came unbidden to his mind, a grimace forming on his monstrous face.

He didn’t deserve you, in any capacity, and that was more apparent now than ever after all you had done for him in the short time you’d been in his life.

For a moment, he considered what he might do if he were still human, if he had met you under normal circumstances—a world where he could ask you on a date, where he could kiss you freely, where he could give you even a fraction of what you’d given him.

He should’ve known better than to dwell on what-ifs. This was his reality: a lonely, miserable existence where he was this terrifying creature trapped within the confines of this abandoned village, and that was never going to change.

While still lost in his thoughts, you awoke, blinking at him to clear your bleary eyes.

“Hey…” you started, reaching out to touch his shoulder, the feeling of your warm hand soaking through the fabric of his shirt.

“Hey,” he replied, voice rough. “You sleep okay?”

“As well as anyone can on a sofa, I guess,” you responded with a quiet laugh. “Did you pass out on the floor?”

“Yeah, but I’m used to it.” Leon shrugged to dispel the sternness in your tone. “Besides, I wanted to be right next to Wolfie in case anything happened.”

Your expression seemed to soften at that, offering a small smile. “Makes sense. Hope you got some rest, at least. You needed it.”

Leon simply nodded in confirmation, silence falling over you as you both looked at Wolfie.

You got up slowly from the sofa, stretching out and popping your aching limbs as a yawn overtook you. “We should change his bandages soon.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agreed distantly. You didn’t comment on his morose demeanor despite the furrow of your brows, and he was thankful.

The rest of the day was a quiet one, spent managing Wolfie’s injuries and cleaning up the mess made by the fiasco that was the previous night, mud and blood staining the floor and some of the furniture.

The rain returned as the sun began to set. You had both woken up well after noon due to your all-nighter, so there wasn’t much day left to be enjoyed anyway.

As you prepared yourself dinner, Leon ate the last of his fish and stirred a new fire in the hearth, the chill of yet another storm seeping into the room.

The relative silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable. The both of you just simply had a lot on your minds.

However, you seemed to liven up after your meal, returning to your usual chipper self. Leon liked you better this way. You always managed to lift his spirits.

“So…” you drawled as the two of you sat beside each other on the sofa, heating up near the fire, “why don’t I read you something? You know, just to pass the time.”

Leon chuckled at that. “What did you have in mind? Not more of that crappy vampire novel, I hope.”

“Well, maybe I could read The Hunchback of Notre Dame? Oooh, or Frankenstein?” you teased him.

Leon rolled his eyes and scoffed in faux offense, the idea of you reading him tragic stories about monsters not appealing to him in the slightest. “Never mind, I’d rather stick to the stupid vampire book. Might actually lighten the mood.”

“Ah, you think teen angst is amusing, do you?” you replied with a playful grin as you retrieved the novel.

“Only when it’s this ridiculous.” He returned your grin, grateful to be out of his own head for a while.

You tucked your legs beneath you when you sat down once more, beginning to read aloud from where you last left off. Leon simply watched you from his periphery, appreciating the curve of your cheek, the slope of your nose, the way your mouth moved as you spoke. He realized then that you could have been reading a damn math textbook and he would be content to simply listen to your voice and rake his eyes over your plush form.

A couple hours had passed when you finally closed the book, setting it on the cushion beside you as you looked over at Leon.

“Thoughts?” you asked with an impish smirk.

“Still sucks,” came his blunt reply. “That Edward guy is a creep. Bella should be steering clear of him. Why anyone would think this is a cute love story is beyond me.”

You laughed, a tinkling sound that warmed him more than the rippling fire. “Aw, come on, Leon. Where’s your sense of romance?”

“Died off ten years ago, I imagine,” he scoffed, the sound rough and sharp.

He regretted his harsh, self-pitying quip when he glanced over at you, seeing the smile fall off your face, replaced with a remorseful expression.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean—”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he interjected quickly, offering a wry grin. “Just a grouchy bastard these days.”

He felt relieved when your lips curved upwards once more, cursing himself internally for always ruining the moment with his wallowing, wondering how you could even put up with him.

“That does have me curious, though,” you started, looking almost sheepish. “Could I ask you a… personal question?”

“You can ask me whatever you want, I guess. Whether I answer is another thing altogether.” His eyes glinted playfully, though he braced for the inevitable discomfort of your probing.

“You said that you weren’t romantically involved with your friend Claire, right? But was there… someone else, maybe?”

Leon let out a huff of a laugh, shaking his head. “You want to know my dating history, do you?”

“Only if you’re willing to indulge me,” you responded, gnawing your bottom lip in embarrassment.

The sight of your teeth pressing into the soft flesh had him momentarily distracted, but he cleared his throat, looking away as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, you could say there was… someone. It wasn’t… fuck, how do I even explain it?” he grumbled to himself. “Her name was—is—Ada. The thing between us was intense, but it never went anywhere. We always seemed to be working on opposite sides. Makes things complicated, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“That sounds hard,” you told him, offering a sympathetic nod. “Did… Did you love her?”

The question caught Leon off guard, and his face snapped up to look at you with furrowed brows. “I…” he began, but then stopped short, letting out a deep exhale. “I think maybe I did.”

“But you don’t anymore?”

Leon barked out a laugh, drawing his hand over his face in wry amusement. “What is with these questions? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“I guess not,” you replied softly, staring into the fire. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” Leon huffed, elbowing you teasingly. “To answer your question… I don’t really know how I feel anymore. I mean, that was a lifetime ago. Thinking about it just dredges up a whole boatload of shit I’d rather keep below the surface, you know?”

“Yeah, that’s fair.” You gave him a small smile before you paused, looking away from him thoughtfully for a moment. “Maybe… I could find her for you?”

Leon balked at that. “And what good do you think would come from that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you two could rekindle, I guess,” you replied, looking cowed by his reaction. “If that would make you happy…”

His chest clenched at your words. Christ, you were so impossibly sweet—naive to a maddening degree at times, but sweet. The idea of you going out of your way to search for Ada Wong of all people was almost comical. But beyond that, Leon didn’t want Ada to come here. Not only because he was a monster—one she would probably try to kill—but because you were really all he cared about right now, in the present. The only one he really desired.

He wasn’t going to admit that last part aloud, so he stuck with the first when he responded, “Sweetheart, look at me. You really think I could have some heartfelt reunion like this? I appreciate the intention there, but you have to admit that it’s kinda…”

“Stupid?” you finished for him, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. “Yeah, maybe it is. I guess I forget that most people would freak out around you.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” he said with a light chuckle.

“I just thought… I don’t know… that if she felt the same way about you… it wouldn’t matter…”

“It wouldn’t matter?” he echoed, vexed by the very notion. “Of course it matters. No one in their right mind would just choose to look past this.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “This isn’t some disfigurement someone could accept… I’m not human anymore.”

“I’ve accepted you, haven’t I?” you asked quietly, a look of hurt crossing your precious features.

Leon let out a frustrated growl, closing his eyes. “Yeah, but you’re different. The world isn’t like you. And hell, maybe it should be, but it’s not. It’s violent, and it’s scary, and it’s ugly…” he paused for a moment, letting out a breath. “Like me.”

There’s a silence that stretched out between you after his outburst, and he refused to look at you, staring instead at the flickering flame licking the scorched stone of the hearth.

“You’re right,” you finally said. “I’m not like most of the world. But neither are you.”

He deigned to glance your way and called your name as if to argue, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“You’re not like them because you’re good, Leon,” you murmured, voice small but resolute. “You’re kind, and you’re loyal, and you’re fiercely protective. So I don’t agree with how you see yourself. Not one bit. And if the people you left behind care about you even a fraction of how much you still care about them, they wouldn’t either.”

He said your name again, this time more of a whisper, as he looked directly at you. His mouth went dry as he took in the determined set of your jaw, the fire in your eyes having nothing to do with the flames dancing before you. He didn’t know how to respond, only able to stare at you and wonder how he got lucky enough to have you in his life at all.

“And another thing,” you started, your features shifting into more of a teasing grin to ease the tension, “I don’t think you’re ugly.”

The guffaw that left Leon’s throat was nothing short of thunderous, surprising the both of you and startling Wolfie from where he lay on his dog bed.

“I’m serious!” you exclaimed, your voice earnest despite the smile on your face. “You’re very handsome. As far as cryptids go.”

“You might be the strangest woman I’ve ever met,” Leon responded, though there was only fondness in those piercing red eyes. “I don’t understand you, not one bit.”

You let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head in amusement. “Most people don’t.”

“Well… maybe I’d like to,” he murmured, the humor from the moment fading into something far more intimate. “Could you clue me in?”

You looked at him with a surprised expression, then glanced at the fire to collect your thoughts. “Yeah, sure. Okay…” There was a long pause before you started to speak again, voice low, “The truth is, I guess I know how you feel. To a degree. Feeling like an outcast, I mean. Being treated like a freak. I’ve always been… looked at funny. Between my weird personality and interests that most people think are annoying or creepy… and the fact I’m a bigger woman who lives in a world that believes being overweight is some kind of moral failing… I spent a lot of time alone as a child because of that. And as a teen, I never got to be seen as pretty or desired. I thought I was just… inherently broken, I guess. Unwanted. Unlovable.”

Leon felt a slow, simmering rage begin to bubble up inside him at the very notion of you being mistreated, especially for the things he found the most endearing about you. How anyone could look at you and not see an angel, he wasn’t sure.

Before he could interject, however, you continued on, “I know that’s not true now. I mean, I grew up, found people like me. I’ve had a few relationships. But… I know what it’s like to be lonely simply for being what you are.”

“You didn’t deserve that,” Leon muttered darkly. “All of those people were just blind idiots. For one, I think your personality is interesting.” He paused a moment, contemplating whether he should admit the next part before deciding to go ahead, “And I think you’re beautiful, too. As is.”

If Leon could snap a photo in his mind’s eye of how you looked in that moment—a bashful expression paired with a bright smile—he would keep it in his pocket to look at every day for the rest of his life. 

“Thank you, Leon,” you replied quietly.

“No need to thank me for being honest,” he responded with a noncommittal shrug. “And I appreciate you trying to relate to me. I can definitely see where you're coming from a bit better now. But I still gotta ask… Why chase after monsters specifically, huh?”

“I don't know… I guess it started when I first heard the urban legend of the Jersey Devil. A child born a monster, through no fault of his own, cast out by his family to haunt the woods forever… Maybe I seek out monsters not just because of the thrill, but because I empathize with them.”

“You might have a few screws loose, bunny,” Leon said, letting out a chuckle, “but you have a big heart.” He stopped, rubbing his clawed hand over his face wearily. “Doesn’t change the fact you’re tempting fate, though. You need to be more careful. Just ‘cause you feel for a monster, doesn’t mean it’ll feel for you.”

“You do.”

--------------------

Masterlist

[synnthamonsugar]

DESTINYTOBER: Day 2 - Tower

. . .

Sometimes the tower rests on a dark plain at the foot of the mountains. Sometimes, it rises from the rubble of the destroyed Last City, the debris fields of the Reef, or the Golden Age ruins of Venus, or a hundred other locations throughout time, real or imagined.

Today the tower cracks through the fields of Rathmore Chaos, ice sheets upturned to it from its violent eruption. The Pyramid hovers above, basking it in coils of red-orange energy, the darkened outline of Juptier behind.

Elsie is opposed by an army of three. The Guardian is flashy in their use of stasis, but she is able to parry their verglas daggers, evade their rime-encrusted fists, getting the upper hand with a foot sweep that drops them to the ground and allows her to drive an icy polearm straight through their chestplate. She lodges a knife into the eye of their Ghost when it arrives for the rez. 

No sooner than, the Drifter flanks her from a distance, pistol aimed. Tumbling, she dodges his shots before drawing her own rifle from a kneeling stance, a burst of rounds dropping him on the spot. His ghost attempts to change her, but she catches it midair, its sharp flanges thrashing against her until its eye gives way under the pressure of her fist. Metal crumples and glass shatters and she throws it aside. 

When Eris Morn arrives she's more human than Elsie has ever seen her, two dark eyes exposed, full lips bent into an almost-smile. Elsie thinks of negotiating but the thought disappears when Eris attacks, first with the Light, then soulfire to stasis to resonance. As she does, she physically transforms — from human to what most people would recognize her as, to something like a hive knight as chitin engulfs her body. She grows in size and ferocity as she takes on her hive-god form, before chitin peels away revealing the sleek blood-slick body of a Disciple, three eyes like spotlights beating down on Elsie as she runs from beams of resonance that crater the ice like shells on the battlefield. 

One hits her arm, ripping it off, another tears through her side, throwing her off balance without downing her. Rolling into one of the impromptu foxholes she fires off a barrage of stasis that encases her legs, toppling her with a monumental shudder across the ice. Before she can regain her footing, Elsie draws forth a gelid sword, leaping for Eris' mouthless face and driving it to the hilt through one of those bio-mechanical eyes —

Elsie wakes with a violent start, jolting onto her side and almost off the bed completely.

Disoriented, she takes stock of herself and her surroundings. The hum of the heater, the whistle of the wind outside the yurt, the myriad lights from the gadgets within the outpost, her cooling fans rattling her frame as they buzz as maximum capacity. 

A half-arm away from her on the bunk lay Eris Morn, straight-armed and open-eyed in the darkness.

"Sorry for waking you. I had a — a nightmare."

"There's no need to apologize," Eris replies. Before they agreed to share the cot, they'd both discussed the lightness of their sleep, their tendencies toward night-terrors, so perhaps it was unfounded. 

"I dreamt I killed you."

"Unforgivable." There's a wryness in her voice, a slight upturn in her mouth that eases a bit of the heaviness in Elsie's chest. This Eris is not the Eris of her nightmares, or the corrupted Eris of any of her countless timelines. This Eris is her confidante, and comrade against the Darkness.

"I saw the tower . . . the deep stone crypt. Not the Deep Stone Crypt, the one from our dreams."

"Eriana spoke of it." Sadness in her voice, but tenderness too. "May your next dream be of elysian fields. Of gentle passage to the tower."

Elsie rolls onto her back and rests her head against the pillow, fans powering down as her heatsinks dissipate built-up warmth. Powering off her optics, she settles in for what she prays will be a peaceful rest. "Thank you Eris. I hope so too."

[anony-man]

Two very good requests for Fracture here, so I went ahead and combined them. Enjoy!

Chubformers drabble #141!

Characters: Fracture & Drift (RiD)

Word count: 1.1k

When did the hunter ever become the hunted, exactly? Never… except for this once, and as he would have expected, Fracture hated every second. For a mech whose specialties often, if not always, lied in his ability to outsmart the smartest and turn the situation over into his favor, this particular predicament was pretty embarrassing.

Fracture was smart, but so was Drift. He was skilled, and he was cunning, but then again, so was Drift. Falling for his own well-laid traps hadn’t been at the top of his list of expectations or wants in any capacity, but when in the heat of the battle against your self-appointed sworn enemy, things often had a higher chance of going terribly, terribly wrong. Blame it on the bounty hunter’s need to assert his superiority in the fight if you had to, but better yet, blame it on Drift’s uncanny ability to swipe poor Fracture’s pedes out from underneath him like he had today. Fracture was good, but apparently Drift was better… and that’s what made him dangerous.

Rolling with the bad guys meant flaky teammates and fending for himself more often than not, but being left stranded at the mercy of the Autobots wasn’t what Fracture was expecting. Drift had worn him down rather quickly, and thus, it was less of a surprise and more a disappointment that he sidestepped himself into his own trap and ended up tied in knots upon knots and kneeling at the swordsmech’s pedes. It was a shameful way to end what had been a rather pitiful fight to begin with, but there was still time to turn the tables. At least, he hoped.

“Isn’t this a surprise,” Fracture grumbled, masking the way his vents flared with every intake as he fought to catch his breath with squirming against the ties binding him. “About time I let you win, huh, Drift?”

He hadn’t been going easy on the big bot, but he wasn’t about to admit to struggling under pressure, either. He was just—well, it was just… it was an off-day, that was it. Granted, Drift didn’t seem to care much, and he certainly didn’t seem convinced, either.

The swordsmech had also taken a knee, and he sat silently in front of Fracture, seemingly content to listen to the onslaught of complaints and observe the struggle. In Fracture’s optics, it was far worse than the haughty back-and-forth they usually shared during all out brawls, and he didn’t like it one bit. A silent Drift meant a thinking Drift, and a thinking Drift had to mean bad things were in store for him. For once since succumbing to his own well-laid trap, Fracture fell still.

“Well?” he said, rearing his helm forward as his arms and legs stayed bound beneath him. “Aren’t you going to say anything? Take me back as the ultimate bounty? Go on, now, rub it in.”

Ever still silent with a piercing gaze and his mouth set in a frown, Drift merely tilted his helm before finally offering some small semblance of a smile. Fracture was more than a little taken aback when the mech reached into his subspace and took out a fresh cube of energon.

“I’m afraid I wasn’t expecting you to be bested so easily,” the swordsmech said as he peeled the top away and settled down into a proper kneel, “but with so many chances to best you in the battlefield, I’ve begun to wonder… have you always been so thin?”

Getting caught in his own snare had been a surprise, but nothing beat this. Fracture wasn’t sure whether he should balk at Drift’s apparent long-running concern for his refueling habits or be offended by the fact that the very mech he’d sworn himself against was, in fact, now holding him hostage by his own work and stuffing him full of as much fuel as he could handle… and then some.

Drift had to have been joking when he said that. He had to have been making an attempt at catching Fracture off-guard for the final blow, or perhaps catching him unaware, but no. No, this seemed to have been his plan all along. There was no refusing to be allowed and no protests accepted as the swordsmech fed him until he could hardly breathe and kept on from there. This was intentional, one way or another, and Primus, when Fracture got out of this mess—

Through the ties strapped across his frame, Fracture felt his tanks gurgle and groan. It hadn’t taken long to max out his fuel capacity, but Drift showed no signs of stopping anytime soon.

He couldn’t understand why Drift was doing this in the first place, let alone why he’d fallen for it so easily. What had possessed him to come out here and face off with a big mech like him to begin with? It was like the old bounty hunter knew him better than he knew himself, and for a mech with Fracture’s reputation, that wasn’t a good thing.

“Mph—“ he tried to speak around the umpteenth cube shoved against his lips, only to whine in response to Drift gently tilting his helm forward to take it. “No more—no more…”

His belly was aching now, and his internals were screaming at him to stop, but Drift just kept pulling out one cube after another… and he kept feeding the poor mech one after another.

“Have you had your fill already?” Drift asked as he peeled the lid from another fresh cube. “If we compared the insatiable drive you have for putting a stop to my existence to your tolerance for a proper meal, I think you’d come up quite short, Fracture.”

Fracture tried to snap back with a nasty retort, but the only thing to come up at first was a gurgling bubble of air that he quickly swallowed down and an embarrassing whimper of shame that followed it. Drift took pity on him then, at least, and didn’t bother with pushing the next cube.

“Why—hic!—why the… change of spark?” he panted, his expression pained. “Thought you—mmph, hated me.”

Since starting to stuff the poor bounty hunter full, Drift’s smile never wavered. Even now, as he set the last cube aside and shook his helm, his amusement only seemed to grow.

“I suppose I get bored of going in circles,” he said. “And truly, it hasn’t been a fair fight between us in… oh, ages, I’d imagine. But enough talk of that—here, you have plenty left to drink.”

So then, he wasn’t to be tied up and taken hostage as Drift’s prize, but tied down and forced to be fed up on the sweet, sweet fuel his arch nemesis provided. Oh, how the tables had turned… and Fracture, for once, had been bested.

[sparrow-the-tired-lesbian]

in answer to your request for lokius prompts

(btw, sorry if you're closed for prompts rn, if you have, i haven't seen - and pls don't feel pressured to fill out the prompt if you don't want to!! <3)

the prompt:

loki starts to have nightmares about time-slipping. and, strangely, (but altogether not strange), mobius is a constant throughout his nightmares. can be platonic or romantic. mobius can find out, or maybe he doesn't.

honestly? i just wanna read about loki having hurt angry sad feelings around and about mobius, while mobius is completely (or almost completely) oblivious.

bonus points if loki tries to hint about his feelings to mobius but never outright says he's hurting! :DD

(but of course - do whatever you feel comfortable doing! i trust in your creative capacities as a writer, and i know you'll do what's best for you <3)

GOD BLESS YOU FOR WAITING ALL THIS TIME, I PROCRASTINATED

Okay anyways

HURT/COMFORT LOKIUS LETS GO

LOKI POV

My body tears itself apart at the seams as I shout out for some consolation from anyone, anywhere. When I’m stitched back together again, I open my eyes in the dim Time Theater to see a silhouette. I tremble, my knees buckling and my eyes watering. Even as my body hits the floor, there’s that smell; that familiar smell of espresso fills my senses. 

My voice is nothing more than a whisper as I utter the name, “Mobius?”

The figure kneels, his face coming into the light. It feels as if the skies are gazing upon me. “Yeah, love. It’s me. Just relax.”

“It hurts…” I falter.

“I thought as much.” Mobius smiles. “Just close your eyes.”

I shut my eyes, then…

I gasp, my eyes shooting open. I sit upright in bed, clutching fistfuls of the polyester sheets, looking around for something or someone to ground me. 

I take a deep breath and look down at my lover. Mobius has his arm around my waist as he sleeps, an almost inaudible snore leaving his lips. It’s adorable, to be quite frank. I almost forget about the events of my nightmare as I look at his face. 

These nightmares always seem to have Mobius in them. I feel lucky that this time was more tame. The last time I had these nightmares, Mobius didn’t have any skin. That’s… creepy. I could see all of his muscles and tendons and-

“Mmm… Loki?” Mobius looks up at me with sleepy eyes and a little smile. “Everything okay, love?”

“Huh? Oh, yes, darling. I’m fine.” I smile back, pushing all of the thoughts down. “Did I wake you?”

“No.”

“You’re lying.” I chuckle. “You’re a bad liar.”

“Maybe that’s what got me pruned back then. After the time loop.” Mobius says, looking up at me with the prettiest look in his eyes to accompany a soft laugh.

“What? No, that wasn’t your fault. You didn’t…” 

“Relax, Loki. I was kidding.” He sits up and kisses my cheek before leaning back against the headboard. “What’s got you awake?”

I rest my head on his shoulder. “Nothing. Just thoughts.”

“What about?”

“…just… things.”

Mobius grins, quirking an eyebrow. “Things?”

“Yes.”

“You need to be more specific. Things could mean anything from sex to suicide.”

I laugh briefly, repositioning myself to bury my face in his shoulder as I do. “Oh, shut up.”

“There it is.” Mobius lifts my chin with the goofiest smile.

I give him a peck on the lips. “Mmm… What?”

“That laugh of yours. The full, genuine laugh.” Mobius muses. “I don’t think I’ve heard it in a while. Are you feeling better?”

All of my worries seem to disappear. I don’t even remember what I was so worked up about. “Yeah. I think I’m better now.”

[pavlovianfuckery]

baby, i could be your LÖVBACKEN or your GAMLEHULT

AO3

The Master-masterlist

Fandom Masterlist

Summary: Brain misfired again, so you're sorry and I'm welcome. Been writing 90% of this while in painkillers because I cracked my ribs like a dumbass AND i broke up with grammarly, so if there's anything weird (other than the usual) please give me a shout

Pairing: Blaine DeBeers/F!Reader

Notes: Human furniture kink (done so very badly because this man would not have the patience or possibly the capacity to take it even a little bit seriously), Blowjob stuff, Vaginal fingering (just a little, do you want ice with that though?) Dry humping or something? there's a clit clip involved too so consider this your warning, no use of y/n

Length: 5500~ words

In hindsight, telling him that you'd 'be there with bells on' had perhaps not been the best move on your part. Not like you could've known that it would end up being quite so…literal. But on the other hand, this isn't the first time he's taken something that started partly as a joke and actually given it to you, even if it might not be how you'd imagined it.

It hasn't been that long but your knees are already starting to ache. You'd been so sure that being on the soft rug would help make it easier, but you're soon proven wrong, the thick pile digging into the skin until it feels like kneeling on steel wool. Your neck isn't much better off. Keeping your head bent down and simply staying still has turned out to be more taxing than you'd thought it'd be, but you don't dare adjust yourself. Almost every movement sets the tiny bell on its clip jingling, and right now, you're supposed to be quiet. After all, furniture doesn't make noise.

He's not making it easy, though. Lounging in the plush armchair he's seemingly absorbed by the tablet in his hands and you can't tell if he's actually busy or just pretending to be, but either way, he's not looking at you. At least you don't think so, but it's impossible to tell when you're not allowed to move, much less look up.

The clip putting a gentle but insistent pressure on your clit is bad enough, but he keeps reaching over and touching you. Even though the touches are sporadic and almost absentminded, it's enough to keep you off balance, and right now, balance is something you desperately need. Holding his drink steady on your back is hard enough as it is when it's in a tumbler, but you suppose that you should be grateful that at least he isn't in the mood for wine tonight. As he reaches for the glass, his fingers brush over you, and you're a just a hint too slow to completely hold back from leaning into it, making the amber liquid slosh against the sides of the glass. For a second you tense up, expecting the liquor to spill, but the glass is just empty enough to keep it from happening, at least this time. That doesn't mean that the thoughtless movement won't have any repercussions, though.

Ting…

At first you think that he might not have heard it, but it seems luck isn't on your side today.

"You know…" he voice is almost gleeful as he slides a hand over the curve of your ass, "you're really bad at this." You can't quite keep from shivering as his fingers settle against the back of your thigh, and the effort to squash the impulse to spread them wider isn't entirely successful. Despite being prepared for him to do something, it still catches you off guard when he pinches you. He doesn't do it by halves either, making you grit your teeth to keep from making a sound. It feels like an eternity before he lets go, leaving you aching in more ways than one. Rather than setting the glass back down he drains it, and even though you can't see, you can almost hear the wheels of his mind turning.

"Looks like I'm due for a refill," he nonchalantly puts the tablet on your back before getting up, giving your ass a playful slap as he goes past. "Don't go anywhere."

Aside from the sound of him moving around in the kitchen, you're left with only your own thoughts for company. At least it gives you the opportunity to stretch, slowly rolling your shoulders and your neck before leaning against the side of the armchair, careful not to drop the tablet. Tonight he's been almost sweet in a strange kind of way, though it might not look like it at first glance. Not that he'd ever admit it. He's always enjoyed teasing you and seeing you frustrated which helps this whole thing feel a bit less selfish, but it's pretty obvious that he's not getting quite the same enjoyment out of this that you are, that this is all for you, even if he's being a bit of an ass about it. Besides, you have no doubt that he'll get his by the end of the night one way or the other. He always does. Before long, the sound of his returning footsteps pulls you from your thoughts.

"Now, then…" He sounds almost annoyingly cheerful as he swirls the drink around. The dull clinking sound of ice makes your stomach drop, a single thought flashing through your mind; Of course he's going to be a bit of a bastard about this, why wouldn't he be? "Lets give this another try, shall we?"

It's mostly stubbornness that keeps you still, nails digging into the rug as the freezing glass is briefly pressed to your skin. The feeling of it almost instantly sticking makes you wince. Surely it shouldn't be that cold? Did he fucking plan this part in advance just to mess with you? You honestly wouldn't put it past him, and he all but confirms it when he peels the glass back off of you and puts a goddamn coaster down, as if you really are nothing but a piece of furniture. It's actually almost sweet, in an absurd kind of way. Aw, he doesn't want to give you frostbite, what a gentleman. It's not all positive though, because the coaster makes it that much harder to keep the glass from sliding around.

If he notices your distress he doesn't show it as he gets back in the chair, grabbing the tablet off of you and busying himself with it without sparing you as much as a glance. It's uncomfortable, but thankfully the spot where he first set the glass down stops hurting quite quickly, and for a moment you think that you can do this. That if you just concentrate, this will be easy.

And it almost is, at least until he starts touching you again. It's more of a tickle at first, simply running the tips of his fingers distractedly over the parts of you that are most readily within reach. Across your lower back, down your side, whisper-light touches over the backs of your thighs until you're sure that he must notice how desperate you're getting to be touched properly. There's no way he can't tell or that he isn't doing it on purpose.

"So is this actually working for you, or…" Clearly not expecting an answer, he brushes against your lips before gently cupping you. The feeling of him parting your lips and dragging the tip of a finger through the wetness there has you letting out a low gasp, but he doesn't seem to notice it. "Sure fucking feels like it. You want to know what I think?" The monologue really isn't necessary since you're not supposed to respond, but then he's always seemed to love the sound of his own voice, so he keeps going anyway. "I think you need to cool down a little bit."

Setting the tablet down somewhere out of sight, he plucks the glass from your back. There's the cli-clink of ice again and before you have time to wonder what he's going to do this time, stray droplets of below-freezing liquor hits your skin. The first touch of cold had been bad enough but the suddenness of this has you instinctively twitching away, making the glass wobble precariously. You only just manage to straighten up in time, but not without making a sound.

Ting…

Shit.

As the tinkling sound fades away there's a few moments where nothing happens. You're not sure if he's waiting a few extra seconds just to make you sweat, or if he's simply considering his next move. The leather of the chair creaks as he shifts, leaning over the armrest and giving you his full attention for the first time since he'd put the clip on you. Then there's ice pressed against the back of your neck, leaving a trail of droplets behind as he drags it on a meandering trail downwards.

"See? Completely useless." The entire time he's talking he's still drawing the ice over you, slowly working his way back and down, making you shiver. Stopping to take a quick swallow of his drink before putting it back on the coaster, he adds; "You look good like this, though."

You can't quite decide if you should feel flattered or insulted. Despite his comment about cooling you down, the ice sliding over you has almost the opposite effect. As he moves it ever closer to your neglected cunt, you're torn between pulling away and leaning into it, and the first touch of ice against your lips knocks a gasp from your throat. It's light, barely brushing against the sensitive skin, but not for very long. There's a moment of hesitation, then he pushes the ice into you.

The cold burn of it has you gritting your teeth again, but at least it's something, and you can't stop yourself from clenching around it on pure reflex. It doesn't bring any real relief, but at least it's something to focus on besides the discomfort. It's a struggle, but you actually manage to stop yourself from outwardly reacting as much this time, aside from a quick rush of breath. For a few moments he simply watches as you try to fight the shivers, grip on the rug tightening to keep from squirming. Reaching down he flicks the bell a few times, making the clip tug on your clit, enjoying the little twitches it elicits from you.

Half expecting another quip, the feeling of him sinking his fingers into your cunt catches you by surprise, making a whimper start to bubble up your throat. Not wanting to give into it you bite your tongue, desperate to hold it back. You almost manage it, too. But then he's pressing gently down, hooking his fingers over the ice and pushing it into your front wall over and over. The sound of his fingers unhurriedly thrusting into you is almost embarrassingly sloppy and it's made even worse by the ice very slowly starting to melt, dripping down the insides of your thighs. The thought of the precariously balanced glass on your back is the only thing that keeps you from moving, and besides hoping that this doesn't end with you doused in freezing liquor, all you can do is wait for it to be over.

Between his fingers stroking you in exactly the way that he knows will make you fall apart and the constant pressure of the clip, it doesn't take long for the tension between your thighs to start winding tighter and tighter. The growing pleasure refuses to be ignored, which is somehow worse than the discomfort. Aching to give in to it, you no longer care about the breathless little noises starting to fall from your mouth as release draws closer with every thrust. But of course he stops before pushing you too far, leaving you just short of the point of no return. Instead he withdraws completely, leaving you empty and more than a little frustrated. The sound of the ice being dropped back in the glass and him proceeding to knock the rest of the the liquor back doesn't make it any better, either. Once the glass is completely drained, he smacks his lips with a pleased sigh.

"Taste damn good too." Snatching the coaster off of you, he puts it and the now empty glass somewhere else, though you're a bit too relieved that it's not on you to notice precisely where. Then he has the audacity to snap his damn fingers, gesturing for you to get in front of him. If it had been anyone else you'd be more likely to bite their ankle than obey, but he's always made obnoxious work for him and this time is no different. As you start getting up, he stops you. "Not like that. Crawl for me." You don't have to be looking up at him to be able to tell that he's smirking.

Still, there's something comfortable about listening and simply doing without needing to think. Painfully aware of him watching every move, you shakily crawl across the rug. Once facing him you hesitate, not sure what he's going to do. Then there's the tip of a shoe digging into your side and nudging until you've moved to where he wants you, still on your hands and knees in front of the chair but lower than before. He makes a bit of a show of it as he leans back, putting his legs up and resting his feet on your back with a contented noise. Then he quickly retrieves the tablet before leisurely crossing his legs at the ankle and going back to ignoring you.

Where the ice failed to cool you down, this works a lot better. Probably because with nothing other than the solid weight of his legs to occupy you, it's not exactly the most exciting thing in the world. As the minutes tick by, you'd almost call it boring. Not that it lasts very long. It starts with an uncrossing of the legs and then there's the tip of his shoe again, but rather than pushing you, he simply rubs it gently over your ass, then down the back of your thigh, following the same trail his hand had gone earlier. Down and then back up, down and up. Thankfully it's not quite as distracting as him touching you directly but it certainly isn't helping, and at this rate you're not sure whose patience will run out first. Trying to discreetly stretch your neck, you can't quite keep from grimacing. It's embarrassing how fast you've gotten stiff just from being in one position for a while. Apparently you're not as sneaky as you think, because he lets out a low chuckle that's almost bordering on derisive.

"You had enough already? And here I was starting to enjoy myself." As he swings his legs to the side and off your back, you can't keep from sagging in relief. Not that they had been particularly heavy, but being able to move freely after being stuck in the same position feels almost too good. As you straighten up it's a bit shaky and slow, but the way he's looking at you would make the discomfort worth it, even if it hadn't been part of the point to all this. "I wouldn't get too comfortable just yet, if I were you. Still got some use for you."

"Do you, now?" Finally giving in to the urge to stretch properly for the first time in what feels like hours, you can't hold back a groan. Logically you know it can't have been that long, but between the tension and the static position, it might as well have been.

"Oh, I can think of a couple of things, actually," he hums, summer-sky eyes darkening as his gaze shamelessly slides down your body. "Come here." It would be hard to resist even if his knees weren't casually drifting apart, leaving you with the perfect space to slot yourself into. Pulling you closer, the thing that instantly draws his eye is the gleam of silver. "Open your legs for me, doll."

Not waiting for a response he pushes a knee between yours, gently coaxing them apart until you're all but straddling his leg. The way the tips of his fingers glide up the inside of your thigh is almost ticklish, but you couldn't pull away even if you wanted to.

"Look at you…" The feel of him slowly dragging a finger through your slick folds is nearly enough to make your knees shake. Pressing against your entrance, the breathy little noise he makes when you twitch against him goes right to your core. But instead of giving you what you want and sinking those lovely fingers into you properly, he pulls away, flicking the bell with a nail. "Does that hurt, sweetheart?"

"It's fi-" Clearing your throat, you try again. "Fine, it's fine." If it comes out as more of a whine, that might be because he keeps tugging on the damn thing. Not hard enough to be painful, but enough to make you remind you that it's still there.

"Yeah?" He grins up at you before giving the clip a small twist as he pulls it, sending a twinge of pain through you and driving you up on your toes with a gasp. "How about now?"

"Now you're being a prick."

"Aw, it can't have been that bad." When he reaches for the clip again your first instinct is to pull away, but this time he really is gentle. After easing it open and taking it off of you, rather than letting you step away he pulls you close, resting his chin on your stomach and looking up at you through lowered lashes, mouth set in a small pout. "Want me to kiss it better?"

"Maybe I do." Reaching down to pet his hair you can't quite resist giving the soft curls towards the back a small tug, enjoying the way it makes his eyes slide shut.

And then there's the buzzing of a cell phone. Groaning, he rests his forehead against your belly for a few seconds before pulling away and fishing it out of his pocket. You can't see the caller ID, but from the look on his face, it can't be anything good. Frowning at the screen, he lets it keep ringing a few more times before rolling his eyes and answering it.

"What?" It's very nearly a snarl, and you can't help feeling just a tiny bit sorry for whoever is on the other end of the line. It sounds like this might take a while so you sit down on the soft rug to wait, resting your head against his leg. "And you felt the need to call me because…?" Since you can only hear one side of the conversation and only half paying attention you're not sure what the problem is, but you can feel him tensing up. "No, absolutely not." There's a brief pause, and then; "A little busy here, so if you'd just do your damn job…" At that point you more or less tune out, taking it a bit personally. "A little" busy? Maybe you should do something about that.

Going slow as to not arouse suspicion, you wrap a hand around his ankle just to test the waters, but he doesn't seem to really notice. When rubbing your hands up his calves doesn't even make him blink, you decide to keep going. Sliding your hands up his thighs and gently squeezing does make him look at you for a brief moment, but it's not until you reach his fly that he really reacts.

"Behave," he mouths at you, brows going up. While you absolutely can behave, he probably should have specified if he wanted you to behave well or not. When your hand goes to his fly again, just dragging a nail over the metal teeth, he reaches down and grabs your wrist with a small shake of his head. Fine, be that way. Sighing, you nuzzle the inside of his thigh before biting down. The fact that it can't have hurt through the denim doesn't stop him from letting go of your wrist as if he's been stung and grab the back of your neck instead. As you try to pull away his grip tightens and he's clearly on his guard now, but if anything, that just makes you want to keep going.

It's only the work of a moment to quickly slide a hand up and pop the button on his jeans. That's as far as you get before he pushes himself against you. If he thinks that nearly smothering you with his crotch is going to dissuade you just because there's no more room for your hands, he's sorely mistaken. It does limit your options somewhat though, and you're not about to try and pull his fly down with your teeth. There's something correct and almost relaxing about being trapped between his legs, though. Sighing, you mouth at him through the denim, and it's actually kind of nice. Very nice, even. Pulling his scent deep into your lungs you can feel him twitch and swell through the saliva-damp fabric, and you can't quite stop a needy little whine from escaping. God, why'd he have to pick up the fucking phone?

"And what do you expect me to do about it?" Letting go of your neck he casually slips two of his fingers between your lips, effectively shutting you up. Even though it has no business feeling as good as it does, it still makes your mind go a bit fuzzy at the edges as you give them a slow suck. Even though they're more like a pacifier right now you still can't keep from quietly moaning around them, mimicking what you know he loves when it's his cock in your mouth and swirl your tongue softly over the pads of his fingers. The way it makes his voice waver ever so slightly for a blink-and-you-miss-it moment fills you with a fierce kind of childish pride. Serves him right. Doing it a few more times has him taking a deep breath and shifting slightly in his seat, words coming out clipped and perhaps even slightly rushed.

"Unless you want to be replaced by a cardboard cut-out, I suggest you do what I pay you to do, and handle it." Cutting the call with a frustrated noise before turning back to you, he throws the phone to the side where it bounces once before finally landing face down on the thick rug. "Now, where the hell was I?" Popping his fingers out of your mouth you hum, pressing a few kisses to his knuckles.

"Something about 'kissing it better', I think?"

"Really?" He watches as you gently bite the fleshy part of his palm before moving up to the graceful taper of his wrist, tracing your lips over the delicate tendons and veins there. As you suck the beginnings of a small bruise into the pale skin right where his pulse-point would be if he was fully alive, he sighs. "And I suppose you think you deserve it after that little stunt just now?"

"I've got no idea what you mean." Blinking up at him you do your best to look innocent, though the effect is probably a bit ruined by the smile tugging insistently at the corners of your mouth.

"Don't you?"

"Not even a little bit." Glancing at the armchair, you don't think there's quite enough room to comfortably straddle him, but you can't know for sure unless you try. Worst case, you could always sit in his lap, which wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. Before you can get started on finding out though, his hand is at the back of your neck again.

"Don't bother getting up."

"No?"

"You seemed happy enough on your knees a minute ago. Besides," he gives your neck a quick squeeze before letting you go, "don't you think it's kind of rude not to finish what you started?"

"What about me?" The words come out sounding a lot whinier than you mean them to. While he might actually be making a fair point, with the way he's been winding you up for the past hour it certainly doesn't feel very fair.

"What about you?" His tone is infuriatingly flippant, in a way that can only be on purpose.

"I…" This had not been part of the plan. Squeezing your legs together, you're very reminded of how heavy your cunt feels, how empty. "Don't I get to come?"

He seems to find that very funny, which honestly makes you want to throttle him.

"Not saying you can't, just that you're on your own with this one." While it's not how you'd wanted this to go, you'll live. At this point it feels as if a stiff breeze might possibly do the job, but as you reach down to give yourself a little rub he tuts at you. "Ah, no touching while you're working. If you need it that bad, I'm sure you'll manage."

"Have you ever considered that perhaps it's a better idea to save the jokes for some other time?" He's really just being mean now, and your mood is rapidly going from turned on to just plain annoyed. "Like for example, not the minute before I'm about to have my mouth wrapped around your cock?"

"Wow, you're really going there, huh?" There is absolutely no chance that he's taking you even a little bit seriously, but at least he's not laughing in your face, though it looks like it might be a close thing. "But I consider myself a reasonable man, so…" Leaning back in the chair he stretches, your eyes instantly drawn to the thin strip of exposed skin as his shirt rides up. Then he nonchalantly straightens his legs out as well. "You can use me, if you want." While that certainly sounds good, you don't really follow, and the confusion probably shows on your face. Sighing, he nudges you with his knee. "Up a bit, doll."

Raising yourself up makes things a bit clearer as he slides his leg between yours, letting you straddle it. The friction as you experimentally rub yourself against his shin feels better than it has any right to, to the point of it being slightly embarrassing. If nothing else, it certainly helps to bring your mood back to where it was a few minutes ago, or at least pretty close to it. It's not going to be terribly comfortable like this, but you'll make it work. While you'd love to comment on the 'reasonable' thing, right now, there's something you want more. Trailing your hands up his thighs you stop to palm him through the denim.

"Can I…?" And even though you know that not only is it allowed, it's expected, asking still feels good, if only because him telling you 'yes' is the closest to 'please' that you're ever likely to get. This time, he doesn't stop you as you go to pull the fly down, its metal teeth parting with a low rumble. By the looks of it, this might not be exactly how he expected the evening to go either, but at least slipping a hand inside his boxers and pulling his half-hard cock out is easy. The angle is a bit off, but thankfully it's not enough to be a major problem.

After the way he's jerked you around tonight, it only seems fair that you should take your time and make him wait for it for a change, so that's exactly what you end up doing. It's not exactly easy though and you have to fight the urge to wrap your lips around him and suck until he's a leaking, throbbing mess in your mouth. Instead you gently rub your lips over him, pressing open-mouthed little kisses down his shaft as you grind against his leg, enjoying the velvety brush of him against your cheek.

"Have I ever told you," you sigh, wrapping your hand around him properly, "that you have the prettiest cock I've ever seen?" Between being as lovely and pale as the rest of him and the broad head being such a soft shade of pink, it's not even a lie. It still seems to catch him a bit off guard though, earning you a breathy little laugh.

"You say the sweetest things when you're turned on, doll." You simply nod in agreement as you slowly kiss your way back up towards his tip. "You going to show me you mean it?"

It takes an almost herculean effort to not rush things after that, but you manage. Instead you lap at his tip, teasing fat drops of pre-come out of him and making him twitch against your palm. Making sure to get him nice and wet, you drag your tongue over his length until he's glistening with it. When you finally wrap your lips around him and puts your mouth on him properly, you're rewarded with the sound of leather creaking as his grip on the armrest tightens.

Rubbing against his leg as you suck is slightly uncomfortable and even a bit degrading but that doesn't keep it from working, and rather than chasing your release, you find yourself needing to slow down. The sounds he keeps making might be partly to blame for that, though. Or possibly the way he keeps watching you, eyes half-lidded and brows knitting together, un-needed breath coming in shaky little bursts. Maybe you've teased him long enough. Using your hands to cover what your mouth can't, you get started on trying to draw as many of those lovely noises from him as possible. Even though your knees really hurt, you try to concentrate on the feel of his cock in your mouth. You want to be good. Every suck and swipe of the tongue is almost reverent, his every groan and murmur of appreciation spurring you on until it feels as if you might combust. You're doing something right for once, he likes. Just as you establish a rhythm to it, there's a crash, startling you right out of it.

Slipping him out of your mouth with a wet little pop, all it takes is a slight craning of your neck to spot the problem. So that's where the glass went.

"Should we…?"

"I really don't give a fuck," he gasps, voice rough around the edges as he slides his hand up to the back of your neck again, grip almost tight enough to be slightly painful. "Don't fucking stop."

You can't help feeling a bit silly, but the interruption is soon forgotten as you slide your lips over him again. The feel of him throbbing on your tongue is almost addictive, and the pressure between your legs as you rub against him is broad, deep and entirely too good. It quickly puts you almost at the edge and you're beyond caring what it looks like as you brace yourself against his thigh and rut against his leg, chasing the release that's only slightly out of reach. Then he tenses underneath you, breath starting to catch. The sound of him getting close, knowing that he's right at the edge with you, is the last push that you need. It's hard to be loud with his cock in your mouth but its still not enough to keep you quiet when you come, rhythm faltering as you moan around him. You can feel the denim going slick as you desperately grind down against him, riding the wave of pleasure until you're trembling and oversensitive, twitching at every slide of soaked fabric against you.

"Did you just…?" His voice is almost reedy with it, the words coming out in unsteady little puffs. "Oh, fuck, you did, oh, sweetheart, fuck." You're not sure if it's a laugh, a whimper or a moan, or perhaps a bit of a mix as he floods your mouth, making you struggle to keep up. You don't entirely manage, but with the way he's happily twitching on your tongue and the breathless noises falling from his pretty mouth, you figure that you can probably be forgiven a dribble or two.

As he starts coming back down, his head falls back against the backrest and for a minute he just stays like that, chest heaving as you slip his softening cock from your mouth. Thankful to get off your knees you carefully slide to the floor, taking a moment to wipe your chin and gently tuck him back into his boxers. There's a short stab of hesitation as you consider what to do next, but eventually you settle on resting your head in his lap, too tired and sore to do much else.

"So..." His hand drifts down, idly petting your hair, "I'd ask if you liked that, but…" Rather than elaborate he just nudges you with his knee, clearly amused at your expense.

"Mm." Too tired and sore to take any sort of bait right now, you eye starburst of broken glass spreading out behind the armchair, glittering in the low light. "I'm not cleaning that up."

"Tssk, figures." There's no heat behind it though, just boneless contentment, at least for now.

"Also, you owe me an orgasm, I think."

"Do I?" He looks up from studying the wet spot on his leg, popping a very skeptical eyebrow at you.

"At least one." When he doesn't respond, you continue; "Possibly a few extra, to make up for the pain and suffering." That gets you a disbelieving huff of laughter.

"That's a pretty bold claim coming from someone who just came from humping my leg, doll. I'm kind of flattered, actually."

"…Shut up."

⁂

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Fandom Masterlist

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[on-leatheredwings]

How I feel before the fic - 6/10, 😐🙃🫠🙍🏻‍♀️

Right off the bat, can feel how frustrated darling is with the way dami asks things!!! Can practically see the fuckin eye roll as he asking where and with who!! (As if he probably doesn't have a tracker on half the shit darling owns)

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

Firmly believe that yes Dami is much better than when he first arrived at the manor, he still has those moments where the teachings fucking seep into his frontal lobe like something awakening. Hence the 'owning' darling part and the fact that he gets why it's not socially acceptable but.....neither is half of the other things he does so it's kinda catch 22 with that one for him at times.

AND RHEN SAYING HE WOULD HAVE STOPPED HAD HE KNOWN DARLING FELT THAT WAY WHEN IK FOR A FACT HE WOULD SIMPLY NOT BE SO OPEN ABOUT IT!!! HE WOULD KEEP THEM AS INSIDE THOUGHTS !

Damian the manipulative king ngl

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

Damian really thinking he can talk darling down until being "threatened" with darling actually leaving!

My baby boy, yr father's relationships are ALSO UNHEALTHY! FIGHTING ESPECIALLY IN SUCH CAPACITY ISNT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IN LOVE?!??!

him on his knees as a way to show you his devotion, willingly kneeling before only you and ever only you is something that means the highest level of love and devotion. And then the please, and the kissing? It's him trying to show you the fact that you're his deity and only wishes to keep you safe from the grime that is humanity! AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

He just wants his soul to mingle with yours<3 your life lines intertwined in such a way that it'll extend past this life time<3 you'll be each other's in any and all times.

Damian is dastardly good at reminding darling why it's him. The way his body was born into this world to be with you and give you pleasure, as you were to him. You've belonged to each other since your first breaths and you will continue to be so until your last. At least, that's what he thinks.

The way you write Damian is so good, I really just adore it because it's so him but also just.....I can't see him falling in love normally. It always ends up like this, it's damn near hereditary. It's so good. Loved this fic and all the other Dami fics you post<3

Me after reading this - 9/10🫡🙂‍↕️🤤😲🥴🤭

Also no cookies yet, forgot I needed to soften the butter so been waiting on that while reading.

Much love Damian anon

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

tell me why i got pissed off and i wrote it KJGHJSLDJFAHISD . while damian worships darling he also is. Damian. also at that point he just thought 'oh we're fighting right now. whatever. lovers fight (bruce x talia/selina) its always fine in the end,' not 'oh i'm about to lose your ass' KGHDSIOJHISDGI so he course-corrected real fast

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

EXACTLT YY EXACTLY YOU'RE IN MY BRAIN . YOURE IN MY BRAIN!!!! LIKE ITS JUST HILARIOUS THINKING ABOUT YAN DAMIAN B/C HE REALLY JUST THINKS HE'S EXPRESSING HIMSELF. he thinks "i'm just being forthcoming this can't be manipulation." HE'S SOOOO MISGUIDED AND EVIL BUT DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT. ITS SO SAD I LOVE IT . he thinks mistreating you would be like physical abuse or yelling at you.

IM GLAD YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE HIM... i'm still trying to nail all the parts of him <3 the beautiful, devoted parts <3 the bitter, spiteful parts <3 the dark, broken parts <3 he's such a conundrum what will i do with him

AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

damian and his reverence for his darling is just peak idk what to say . 🚬 he doesnt just love you he genuinely worships you. also redemption is a huge part of his arc in canon (redeeming himself from being an assassin even though he literally was raised and groomed into it help), he finally believes he can change. you've changed him! he can change, just give him a chance.

THANKY OU FOR THE LONG REVIEW TEEHEE MADE MY DAY... i like can't look at my fics once theyre posted but i also just love to talk about them or really, just the characterization in them...

and rats! no cookies now.... BUT COOKIES SOON!!!