#even I’m drawing it for the first time 🙈🙈

[pillow-boi]

Just some grey wardens grey wardening

[chocum]

yea tattoo artist choso but .. what abt tattoo artist geto

congrats on 1k btw!

eee thank youuuu 🙈🙈 i’m souuurrr happy you requested geto bc i’ve been wanting to write abt other characters. AND THISS got out of hand lollll ( 1.5k ) idk what came over me i just word vomited all over my phone… & it’s unedited

— tattooartist!geto x reader // mentions of smoking, m masterbation, fleshlight, cum eating, kinda pervy geto idk he tells reader to take her shirt off when she doesn’t need to so, nipple play, v in p, mentions of overstim, creampiee

suguru geto is one of the most, if not the most popular tattoo artists in your area— hell, probably even farther than that. just to book an appointment, there’s a waitlist not including the months and months he’s already booked for. so when you finally get that confirmation email after waiting for what felt like years, you physically jump up, rushing to get ready and go to the parlor

“i don’t have anyone today under that name, sorry”

suguru pushes a strand of silk black hair behind his pierced ears, the dragon tattoo on his hand moving as he does so almost like it’s taunting you.

“what? i got an email today i just-” your hand reaches into your purse slacked over your shoulder to pull out your phone and prove your appointment was today, but when you go back to check, heat spreads across your cheeks faster than ever.

the date said next month

“ya had the right day i’ll give you that” and he’s laughing. not at you but because you’re cute, he thinks. pouting, growing hot from embarrassment. “i’ll tell you what..”

he leans in and you can smell the smoke that lingers on his breath mixing like some sort of love potion with his musky cologne, his pierced eyebrow quirking, browned eyes staring into yours with puffy lips wet from licking, “i can squeeze you in tomorrow. was supposed to have an off day but ill help a pretty girl like you out, how’s that sound?”

and you’ve never nodded faster. smile pulling at your glossed lips, drawing his to get trapped underneath his teeth.

“here i’ll give you my number, i’ll text you the time ‘n stuff later”

with that, you leave his parlor, your number scribbled on the back of some old receipt next to your name and a heart.

geto’s no better than a man. no better. he goes home that night and texts you as soon as he’s tucked into bed.

hey this is suguru btw.

your phone vibrates on your nightstand, and you smile at the notification. it almost felt unreal, someone who felt so unreachable, someone like geto in your phone, texting you first.

hey!

he catches himself smiling at the message too, his mind trailing back to seeing your pretty face when you walked into the parlor. the way you looked around doe-eyed like a little deer in headlights. looked innocent, and he liked that. maybe a little too much, his dick twitching against the fabric of his boxers.

he only talked to you for a few minutes. barely even held a conversation, but god did you look good. can’t blame him for getting like this.

what time is good for you? like i said, im supposed to be off but had no plans so any time is fine.

your thumbs dance across your keyboard as you think of what to say in response. you’re nervous. and if you knew he was jerking his cock, you’d be even more. his hand slowly .. very slowly rubbing his leaky tip, his head full, overflowing and bubbling with thoughts of you. what are you doing right now? are you in bed too? squeezing his warm balls, cupping them, teasing himself, imagining it’s your sweet little hands.

is 6 pm okay?

the little buzz drags him from his thoughts.

yea. see you then, pretty.

the simple little pet name makes you feel like you’re going to explode. so warm all over your body, and you wish you could just time travel to the next day and see him already.

geto brings the palm of his large hand to his face, lolling his tongue out to lick long stripes on it, shivering at the feeling of his own piercing before wrapping around the base of his thick cock, stroking himself only two times. this won’t do.

he reached for the pocket pussy he keeps nested deep in his drawer. leaning over to let spit fall and dribble into the clear toy before rubbing it on his tip.

groaning, “shiiiiittt” his hips bucking up as he slowly lets it sink down— body twitching at the feeling of all the little bumps and ridges massaging his sensitive cock.

“fu- fuck juuuust like that, mhhhm”

imagining he’s inside your tight little walls, squishing him like he’s meant for you, snug and tight like a puzzle piece.

his chest heaved with every snap of his wrist, spit sinking out and ringing out the base of his cock leaking down to his heavy balls, “feel so fucking good baby”

so fast he’s already shooting into the toy, whining because it’s not you. wishing it was you, your warm walls probably feel so much better. probably sound so cute taking him from behind or from the front, your eyes locked onto his.

he came so much it’s leaking all over himself. so messy and dirty and he brings the toy up and licks it all out, shoving his tongue inside the rubbery walls to flick and clean it up.

“shit”

the next day came too slowly. to you but especially to suguru. he went to the parlor an hour earlier to open and tidy up, pulling his raven locs into a ponytail, letting a few stray strands fall and frame his face, counting each and every second.

and then he hears it. the little ding as the door opens, you push it open smiling up at him as you walk through and you look even better than he remembered. and he’s trying so hard to keep his composure.

he nods at you, giving you a small smile, “so what did you want to get, and where?”

at your reply he freezes, his hands almost crumbling up the paperwork he reached for you to fill out — “my chest”

“your chest?”

he parrots you. then he repeats it in his head a few more times. picturing you pull your little top up.

he can tell you’re not wearing a bra with how your nipples perk up and poke through the flimsy, almost see-through fabric.

you nod your head, mhm sounding and bubbling past your lips.

god, you’re going to be the death of him.

after you finish with all the paperwork, he pulls you into the back making small talk asking about your day. and you indulge, asking back, finding comfort in the normality of your conversation. he’s different from what people painted him out to be and you felt relaxed in his presence.

even more when he offers you a seat, cleaning it off before slipping on some black gloves. his hands almost bulge out, his knuckles poking through the latex.

“can i see the design?”

you pull up the picture on your phone and he hums, “and you said your chest, right?”

again he repeats it, almost as if it’s a mantra he’s using to calm his nerves. calm his dick.

you just nod, “do i need to take my shirt off?”

and well no you don’t, not yet at least, but he says yes, reaching forward to do it for you because he’s just so sweet, right? so nice and caring, and welcoming.

and he only wraps his lips around your tits to soothe you, right? sucking, letting his teeth sink into the buds, the silver ball tracing over them. his other glove-clad hand cupping them.

sinks his cock into you just cause he wants to take care of you, right? he could tell you wanted it soo bad. your thighs pressing together so tightly when he pressed his lips against your chest with a soft, “suguru please”

“mhm let me take care of you, pretty girl, spread em, hold yourself open f’me— uh huh, juuust like that.”

your little arms shake and tremble, hooking around the back of your knees as he pushes into your tight cunt. and fuck, he was right. feels so much better than his toy.

“fuuuckk found your spot, baby, ‘s right there? yeah feel good right there?” he rolls his hips up, brushing against that spot, his thick tip kissing it, making your body twitch.

“yes— fuck yes feels so good”

right about you sounding so fucking good too— his cock twitching inside the solitude of your pretty slimy walls. shivering at how you suck and milk him so well, so tight and warm. so fucking warm. feels so good he’s already close, but he wants to keep making you feel good, keep hearing you, and if he was to fuck his cum into you, overstimulating his needy cock to do that, then so be it.

“inside” you whine out at how he twitches, his stokes sputtering and faltering as he languidly pushing into your sopping pussy, leaking all over him, so wet.

“ohh — fuck ohfuck” and it pushes him over the edge, bottoming out to overfill you, make you nice and creamy ‘cause you deserve it. deserve it for being so good, making him feel so good.

letting his head fall onto your shoulder sweat sprinkling his forehead as he empties himself for you. for your pretty pussy, all for you.

[ikimaru]

Hi sunny :D I’m a tad nervous to ask questions but you’re one of my favorite artists soo… 😞😞

I was just wondering if you have any tips regarding making a comic :,3

thank you‼️🫶

heey thank you so much! 🙈 I'm sure I've responded to this multiple times before but I can't even find the asks on my own blog so here we go again dksjd

this is for a shorter type comic, for comics that are a lot longer like many hundreds pages it's more complicated!

1 - write down the plot with main things you want to have happen and divide it into scenes revolving around these things, expanding on what should happen in each scene with dialogue, notes etc. This helps making sure each scene connects well to the next and also gives you a general idea of how long the comic is gonna be

2 - sketch out pages as rough draft (thumbnailing) so you will know how the action will be distributed across the page, I usually sketch all the pages in one scene at the same time so you can know in advance where a scene is gonna end it's not gonna be 2 panels into a new page if u don't want it to

3 - when figuring out how a scene plays out you can sorta imagine it like a movie in your head and you choose angles you like or that make the scene flow nicely! (as for panel shapes and other technical things I suggest looking at tutorials or looking through comics or manga you like to see how they do them)

4 - this is just if you want to carry out a comic from start to finish! never underestimate how long it takes to make comic pages, so if you want a finished comic I suggest trying out doing something shorter of a few pages to see how you feel about that first, find a way to draw and color them that's comfortable for you! I think around 50-60 pages is manageable, if it goes in the hundreds it's gonna be a long haul (I kinda never want to go there again lmao) so imo avoid spending too much time on full coloring/details/backgrounds in every panel, it can look good but ur gonna get burned out SO fast (a lot of comics get dropped for that reason) most long running comics have simpler styles and assistants to help with coloring, adding text etc

hope this helps!

[puck-luck]

Ooh omg congrats on the 1K!!

I would like to request 5 of clubs with Jack Hughes please. (Maybe with an exhibition kink 🙈)

This isn't quite as clubs-like or exhibitionist, but I've been feeling slightly out of the mood today (I think because I had to make a lesson about the American relationship with Native Americans during colonization... not the most uplifting topic). Hoping for something better tomorrow!

Also I'm watching a 2.5 hour video essay about One Direction's history right now. I love that people can make whatever content they want, and they usually give it their all :)

after typing that i'm realizing that statement is really meta since i'm writing nhl fanfic. sigh. ok fine i guess i enjoy my own content whatever

Warnings: fingering, exhibition, Paul Mescal in Gladiator II WC: 592

You’ve never been one to keep trivial secrets from Jack. He’s your boyfriend and you are thoroughly against miscommunication. Your openness has resulted in plenty of fun jokes for Jack, the latest of which has landed you in your current predicament. You’re in the bougie movie theater that Jack always splurges on, sitting in a plush recliner and watching Gladiator II. Jack thought this would be a fun date night, because– well– you love Paul Mescal. 

It’s something about his nose. It’s very Roman, which you find sexy. Jack knows this, and knows that you’ve particularly enjoyed the costume design of the film, even joking with you about dressing up like a gladiator for Halloween. 

He hadn’t mentioned it again until this morning, which is when he told you that he’d bought some tickets for the film. It had actually been out for a while now, so the theater is relatively empty, but you’d never had the time to see the movie. Jack, after all, had wanted to see it with you… probably because he wanted to pull something like this.

He knows that Paul Mescal is your celebrity crush. You’ve been repeating that to yourself since you realized that it’s the motivation behind Jack’s movements. His touch had been casual at first, just tapping his fingers against your thigh. He’d convinced you to wear a skirt by claiming you’d be going to dinner afterward. You expect that his real reason is that he wanted easy access.

His fingers are inside of you now, petting over your walls. He’s teasing you, moving slowly when Paul Mescal isn’t on screen and thrusting into you at a quicker pace when your crush graces your vision with his presence. Jack also particularly likes drawing circles over your clit as he moves inside you, constantly keeping you on the edge.

“Jack,” you hiss, ready to try and convince him to stop, even though you only half-want his movements to cease. You’re flushing a bit, eyes darting around the theater to make sure no one is watching you. There are only a few other groups in the theater: another couple two rows ahead, a group of university-aged girls near the middle of the theater, two middle aged women in the front row. All in all, there are less than fifteen people in this theater. 

“Be quiet, baby. I can’t have everyone hearing you,” Jack murmurs. He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, continuing his movements. He’s acting completely normal, even as your cunt squeezes him tight. 

You bring your hand down and clutch his wrist, trying to halt his movements. 

Jack turns to you. “Do you really want me to stop?” He asks quietly. Paul Mescal starts speaking on the screen and Jack’s eyes flicker away from you to check the screen. His thumb increases its pace against your clit and his fingers flex rapidly inside of you. 

You whimper a bit, clenching down involuntarily. Your knuckles turn white while your fingers grip his arm. Your hips jolt.

Jack quirks an eyebrow. 

“No,” you admit, loosening your grip and allowing him to continue. 

“Just pay attention to Paul,” Jack encourages, smirking at you and brushing a kiss against your cheek. “I’m just here to help you along, baby.”

You scoff quietly, cringing a bit at his words. 

Jack clocks your reaction, his face breaking out in a tiny smile. He giggles to himself, tracing the line of your jaw before mouthing against your throat. “Don’t laugh. We’re having fun. You, me, and your other boyfriend.”

[frankcastlescumslut]

my girl

frank castle x fem!reader

word count: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI!!! mentions of alcohol consumption, roleplay-ish, exhibitionism/voyeurism, mutual masturbation, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, soft dom!frank, degradation/praise kink, “daddy” and “sir”, overstimulation, squirting, breeding kink, cockwarming if you squint, little aftercare

summary: the game: no touching allowed

A/N: omg hey 🙈 it’s been a while! but I’m back! this is pure filth and I’m not ashamed! we all know Frank Castle would talk you through it!

COMMENTS/REBLOGS/LIKES ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND WELCOMED <;3

DONT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY SHIT.

It was one of those nights.

The kind where you and Frank attempted to pull your heads out of your asses after a shitty week and have fun for once.

He would argue that his version of fun was only found with a gun in his hand or kevlar strapped to his chest, and he truly meant it at one point, but that was before you, his girl, and he would do anything for his girl— even if it meant indulging you in your own fanatical definition of entertainment.

Your idea of fun, however, was a shitty dive bar that smelled like stale beer, wearing skimpy dresses that you found in adult stores, and pretending like you had never seen Frank a day in your life, imagining he was some hot shot trying to show you a good time.

It started off as a game. Frank didn’t get it at first, struggling with the idea that “pretending” wasn’t lying, it’s not lying, Frank. I still love you. It’s just a game, you have to convince me to come back home with you, but eventually it became a different challenge entirely— it was now healthy competition between the two of you, seeing who could last the longest without touching one another.

And it was one of those nights where you played dirty.

Wearing nothing but a silk slip that left nothing to the imagination and crotchless panties, you expertly navigated around the bar while the music bewitched you, leading you in different directions and drawing men towards your magnetic pull.

It didn’t take much for men to pay attention to you. You knew that, but more importantly, Frank knew that, and he was painfully aware of how alluring you were.

It was all fair game, and he let you have your fun, only finding comfort in knowing that he was the only one who could shove his face into your chest and cunt. That he was the only one that would take you home and pull moans out of you like it was his job. That he was the only one who could bury and empty himself into you and you would take all of it, because you were his girl.

Frank was more possessive than he led on, but it was the only consolation he had while playing your game. He ignored the few stray women that eventually found their way to him with ease. He didn’t enjoy their attention, it almost disgusted him, but he did appreciate the way your jealousy manifested itself.

You knew it was a game, that the blonde woman meant nothing to him, but the jealousy turned you into something else completely.

The envy mixed into the final swig of your drink and went down easily as it burned the back of your throat. The liquid courage warmed you enough to move, and you shuffled down from your perched stool with a fire stirring in your belly.

It wasn’t your fault that your purse conveniently fell from your shoulder, or the way your dress rose above your ass when you bent over to retrieve it, revealing your crotchless panties to the patrons of the bar. It also wasn’t your fault for the dog whistles that pierced through the music, the droopy eyed stares, or the coughing fit that Frank fell victim to as he choked on his beer.

You could practically taste victory, unable to hide the smirk that plastered against your cheeks as you collected your belongings, turning to face him. The win, however, was short lived, and your face fell when you caught his eye, unable to read his darkened expression.

Whether it was the churning alcohol or growing need between your thighs, you found the confidence to hold his gaze, paying attention to the way he slammed his beer back.

Fuck.

The game was over, that much was clear, and your heart hammered against your chest. Maybe you had gone too far this time. Maybe the panties were too much. Maybe he would understand if you apologized and forfeited this time. Maybe—

Fuck.

For a moment, you swore you faced the Punisher. He grew in size and stature, towering over you as he straightened, the random woman falling off of him in return. He was unreadable, almost threatening, but his façade flickered as he subtly nodded towards the door.

Fuck.

The tension was palpable. It practically trailed your wobbly stride as you found your way out of the bar, hiccuping down your anxiety. Frank followed your lead, silently stalking behind you. His presence was looming, and the silence was baiting your wanton anticipation.

“Frank,” you broke character, turning to face him.

His stride never faltered, and he beat you to the truck. “Frank, wait.”

“Ladies first.” The truck door swung open with a creak as Frank all but pulled it from its hinges, eager to usher you into your place.

You must’ve looked uneasy, tottering on the balls of your feet, and he took note of your lip tucked between your teeth.

“It’s okay,” he reassured you with a wink, holding out his hand to help you into your seat.

Yellow street lights hid the warmth in your cheeks as you softened beneath Frank’s gentleness, and you couldn’t help but hide a smirk as you made a final attempt to claim the last word at your own game.

The hem of your dress tickled the back of your thighs as you attempted to climb into the truck, only pausing to pull the rest of your dress over your hips. It was a lousy move given the circumstances— you pretending to busy yourself while exposing your dripping cunt for anyone in the parking lot to see, but you knew it would rile him up in a way that would benefit the both of you. Eventually.

“C’mon now, sweetheart,” Frank groaned at the sight before him, his own pants growing tighter while he studied the way your core glistened.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you quipped innocently. “I’m just looking for my phone.” You spread your legs ever so slightly, silently inviting him to have his way with you.

“That right?” He drew closer with slow, deliberate steps, knowing how much you enjoy the anticipation. It was exciting, and he was so close, and you were offering yourself to him, and the act was slipping…

“Cause I thought maybe it could be in here?” You jump as your purse lands in front of your face with a thud, bouncing in the driver's seat.

“Huh,” you let out an amused chuckle before Frank fit himself against your spread legs, a small gasp escaping your lips as he pressed himself into you, his bulge hitting your clit directly. “Probably is,” you whimpered, dropping your head as a silent thanks to the truck for providing a welcomed new height and angle.

“Probably is?” He questioned, his voice startling as his lips pressed against the shell of your ear. He’s careful not to kiss you fully, not wanting to break the rules of your game, and he forces his arms to land on either side of you, caging you beneath him.

You felt his chest heave against your back and you smile to yourself, relishing in your ability to unravel the Punisher, but the victory is short lived; he unfurls himself from your bent form before delicately pulling your dress back down to cover your ass.

“C’mon.” His palm landed against your supple flesh and you yelped at the unexpected contact. “Let me take you home.”

“I win!” You exclaimed, nearly hitting your head on the inside of the truck.

“What?” He cocked his head to the side with a loose smile.

“I win!” You twisted in your seat to face him, your smile radiating in the dark. “You touched me first. I win.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He playfully shut the door in your face and you laugh, watching his lip curl into a smile as he fakes his own disappointment.

The door to your bedroom thudded against your weight, the doorknob rattling as you blindly maneuvered your way into your room.

“Frank,” you moaned into his mouth, pulling him impossibly close while stumbling towards your bed. The mattress dipped below your combined weight, Frank hovering over your sprawled frame.

Your hands traveled the length of his body, studying every contour of muscle like you would lose him if he pulled away. “Touch me,” you whispered, catching him by surprise.

“Aht aht,” he laughs into your neck at your demand, his lips attaching to your steady pulse. “You know the rules, babydoll. You gotta finish first before I can touch you.”

“But,” you attempt to refute your own rules.

“You wanna act like a big girl? You can make yourself cum.” He places deliberate kisses down your neck, taking extra care to suck on your delicate skin. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

It was so patronizing, the condescension sweet and sticky and so contrasting from the way he cradled your head, stroking your hairline before planting a kiss to your temple.

“Yes sir,” you submit willingly, whining when he peels himself away from you.

“Atta girl, you can do it,” he encourages you before settling on his side, adjusting comfortably into your mattress.

His eyes widened as you lifted yourself from the bed, pulling the billowy silk off of your frame before throwing it in his direction. You played into your short-lived victory, tracing your fingertips alongside the curves of your body and cupping your breasts together, letting a moan escape as your fingers brushed your hardened nipples.

It was obvious your ministrations affected Frank, and you watched as he pulled at his jeans, clearing his throat to conceal his grunt.

As much as you loved his response to your body, you can’t help but notice the way your breath catches in your throat while you watch him palm himself through the rough denim. It was a silent invitation for you to do the same, finally realizing how agonizing the ache in between your thighs had grown.

The elastic band of your barely there panties hadn’t made it around your fingers before Frank interrupted.

“Leave 'em on,” he huffed a laugh. “Ain’t hiding shit anyway.”

Your cheeks flushed at his enthusiasm, and you sheepishly found your place on the bed, your bare back resting against the headboard. It was only then when you realized how exposed you truly were, and you pressed your thighs together for some semblance of modesty.

“What’s the matter?” he teased. “You nervous or somethin’?”

“Mhm,” you nod your head, stifling a moan when your thighs instinctively clench together, adding just enough pressure against your already sensitive clit.

“Funny,” he chuckled, “cause you sure as hell weren’t shy before.” He was right, and you knew it, your skin consequently growing warm as he spotlighted your cheap plays at winning. “So go on,” he continues, “show me how a pretty whore like you wants to be touched.”

The expletive took you by surprise, but you obeyed shamelessly. Eagerly. Spreading your legs open as an offering to the man who watched just a few feet away as your fingers dipped between your thighs, pressing gently against your clit.

“Fuck,” you moaned, your lip finding its place between your teeth.

“That feel good, sweetheart?” Frank cooed towards you, his tongue darting across his bottom lip while his eyes flash between your scrunched face and drenched fingertips.

“Yes,” you whisper.

“What was that?” He goaded.

“Yes, daddy,” you correct yourself. “Feels… so good.”

He moaned alongside you, grunting as he pulled himself out of the confines of his pants. You watched unabashedly as he spit into his palm before pumping his already weeping cock, the sight only pushing you closer towards your orgasm.

You made no attempts at hiding your pleasure.

“Fuck,” you whined, grinding your hips as your fingers circled your clit.

“There you go, that’s it,” Frank matched your pace, stroking his length as he spurred you on. “That’s my good girl, makin’ that pussy feel so good for daddy.”

“It feels so good,” your head fell against the headboard with a thud, but you hardly noticed. His gaze felt like fire creeping up your body as he studied you with anticipation. “I’m close,” you squeaked.

“Yeah? You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl,” he praised.

Your fingers worked tirelessly as you chased the familiar feeling, and you held your breath as the pressure grew.

“Attagirl, look at you. Just like that,” he bit his own lip while fisting his cock. “Be a good girl and cum for me.

“I’m gonna cum,” you croak out, too busy concentrating on the budding climax to notice the way Frank savored your rising chest and your fingers working your dripping cunt.

“That’s it, cum for daddy.”

It was overwhelming and you were unprepared for his attention, all but crying out as he expertly ran a thick finger between your folds before plunging into you. He hooked himself to your core while manually pulling your orgasm from your body, never breaking a steady rhythm.

“Fuck, don’t stop!” Your body stiffened and you held onto Frank’s forearm as your pleasure uncoiled and gushed from your core.

There was no time to process what happened or to even catch your breath; he clasped onto your ankles, pulling you closer to him before he delved into your wetness, collecting all of you on his tongue, suctioning his lips around your swollen clit.

“Frank!” you jumped at the sensitivity.

“Taste so good sweetheart,” he adjusted accordingly, continuing his languid strokes and moaning into the taste of your pussy.

You can’t help but ride out your high and grind against his tongue as he laps up the remnants of your orgasm, shuddering at each flick of his tongue against your clit.

It was too much and not enough all at the same time. He was close, but you needed him closer.

“I want you,” you reached down, pulling him to your lips. He moaned as your teeth nipped and sucked at his lower lip, savoring the taste of your arousal.

“What’s that?” He baited you, all but ripping his clothes from his body.

“I, fuck-“ you moaned as he lightly tapped his heavy cock against your swollen nub before trailing himself through your folds. “I want you, Frankie.”

“You do?”

“Yes, daddy.”

“I don’t really believe you, sweet girl,” he softened ever so slightly at the name, and you almost believed he would be merciful and indulge you, but his jaw tightened and his expression hardened in front of you. “Beg for it.”

Although deserved, it was a cruel, cruel punishment.

“I want you to fuck me,” you began, jutting your hips towards his cock sliding against you. “I want you to use me.”

He moaned at that— the way you submitted yourself to him, spreading your legs further apart to tease him into submission, waiting for him to break.

“I want you to fill me up and make me yours,” you snaked your hand between your bodies and guided his cock into your drenched cunt.

A hiss filled the room as he buried himself into you in one motion, and you groaned at the sudden sensation. He met your every need and ache, leaving you breathless and with double vision. Completely entranced by the delicious fullness.

“This what you wanted?” He growled into your ear, his body hovering over yours as he thrusted with precision. “Wanted me to use you like a good little slut?”

Your response was guttural, and you grabbed onto any part of him, pulling him in for more, more, more.

“Feels so fuckin’ good,” his lips brushed the soft curve of your neck. “Like that pussy was just made for me, ain’t that right?”

Of course it was right, every fiber of your being screamed out for him. He was insatiable, and it would never be enough.

“S-so good,” you stuttered through chattering teeth, attempting to focus your gaze on his face. “Feels so good, you feel so good.”

“God, look at you,” he cooed. “Already fucked out, huh? Have you had enough, sweetheart?”

You almost said yes; each thrust of his hips was a coordinated attack against your g spot, and you were debilitated, barely able to conjure words, let alone sentences.

“No,” you mustered. “Need you to use me, please.”

His brows creased together, your request causing him to teeter towards his own pleasure.

“You’re doin’ so good for me. Takin me like such a good girl,” he spit on his fingers before rubbing circles over your clit. “Want you to cum with me. Can you do that?”

“Mhm,” you didn’t think it was possible, but dammit you would try. You squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to draw the scattered pieces of your brain together to revel in his movements, becoming pliable in his hands.

“That’s it,” he grunted, enjoying the sight of his length disappearing into your dripping pussy. “Takin’ me so well, that’s my girl.”

You moaned at his praise, relishing in the way he claimed you both physically and verbally. He knew you were close, and you knew he was closing in on his precipice. He could feel the way you pulsed around him, beckoning his own release, and he gave into you completely.

“Cum for me, daddy.”

It came out so sweet he thought he imagined it.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I will,” he squeezed his eyes shut as if it would prolong the pleasure.

“Cum in my pussy, please. I need you.” You whimpered as you replaced his fingers with your own, chasing your own release while cupping his neck to bring his lips to yours. “So close,” you whined.

“‘Want daddy to fill that pretty pussy up, hm?” He mumbled into your open mouth.

“Yes sir.”

You were so close. It was right there.

“Be a good girl and cum with me.”

The room erupted in a cacophony of moans and you were sure flames had licked your skin. Your thighs shook against their will as your orgasm rolled over you, radiating between your bodies.

“Attagirl, there it is.” Frank admired the way your body responded to him, the way you clung to him while your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung agape. You were so beautiful sprawled out, and he gripped onto your fleshy hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Fuck!” He groaned into the side of your neck as you pulsed around him, his thrusts growing sloppy before he spilled into you.

There was a moment of clarity between your blissful haze where you became aware of his presence, and the incessant need to have him closer overshadowed everything.

“So good,” you cupped his face, ignoring the way his stubble tickled your palms before pressing your trembling lips to his.

“So good,” he repeated, his nose pressing into yours while your lips met. “Did so good for me.”

He carefully pulled himself from you, never breaking the kiss even as you hissed. He simply ran a large hand along your head before looking over you.

“You okay sweetheart?”

You gave a drowsy, heavy-lidded smile with a shaky thumbs up from beneath him and he chuckled before placing a chaste kiss along your sternum and settling on top of you.

The added weight was welcomed and comforted you, acting as some grounding agent to bring you back together. It was the same for Frank; he clung to you, his arms wrapping around your fleshy frame while his fingertips pressed into you, memorizing each curve and contour of your body.

You followed suit, running your fingertips along the lines of muscles and splatters of raised scars before lazily squeezing him. He hummed when you grazed your nails along his scalp and nestled into your chest accordingly.

“I’m sorry for earlier,” you sleepily confess.

“Don’t worry bout it.”

“You’re not upset?”

“Nah.” His eyes remained closed, much to your confusion.

You were quiet for a moment, not fully understanding his answer. He knew you were quizzical. He didn’t need to look at you to know your face was scrunched and your eyebrows creased while you attempted to do the mental math behind his answer.

“Ain’t mad cause you’re my girl,” he beat you to it. “Unless you got somethin’ to tell me.” You could feel his smile against your chest.

“No I don’t,” you relaxed. “I’m your girl.”

[eobe]

I‘m a bit unwell 🫠 No worries, I was only walking behind a Crosshair guy, who went in a coffee shop in REAL LIFE 😱

I had some time after my meeting and suddenly felt the quite urgent need for a caf, I really don’t know why 👀✨🤷🏽‍♀️

I had nothing to draw with me, so now I‘ve got my first sketchbook and a really fine drawing pencil since I was a Teenager in the shop across the street and when I went into the coffee shop the last free table was… aaargh… in his field of view 🙈

I’m used to get stared because of my hair, but he had not only a Crosshair look he also had this lurking glance with a slight frown 🥶

I thought, pff, I want and I WILL draw now, I bought myself new stuff for drawing time! And I don’t care about other‘s staring.

He caught me twice and the second time I got a DAMN SMUG smirk take that back, I’m married wrgscxvfgzudf and I’m so thankful that I’ve got a grin automatism and I didn‘t dare any more looking and was even more thankful that he didn’t come over 🫠

I think I had a tomato head 🙈 and I hope that he‘s not on Tumblr nnggggh 😂🫠 If you are, sorry not sorry sweater leather bag Crosshair guy, you seemed like you knew well 😀

[anika-ann]

Hiiii 💕

Made-up fic title: “A different kind of high”

(Yes it’s from a song lol have fun 😂)

Hiiii honey 💕 Oh I had FUN with this, okay. I got carried away so much I don't even want to know the original context of the lyrics 🥹 (or maybe I do, for the fun of it.

ANYWAY. Thank you for sending and thus participating in this game. You too, get a drabble instead of plot. 900 words, allusions to smut and Alpha Ransom 👀 🙈

A Different Kind of High

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, first attempt at a/b/o, implied smut, chase kink, praise kink, hints of soft!dark if you squint very very hard, language

Your heart hammered madly in your chest, its echoes thundering in your temples. Your chest was rising and falling rapidly with every breath you tried to catch, your muscles burning from exertion.

You stood pressed with your back to one of the walls of the study right by the doorframe, door having been swung open, offering you a chance to slip through and hide without making a sound drawing his attention.

His voice carried through the house, making you cover your mouth quickly – suddenly even your breathing sounded too loud, loud enough that it could alert him of your presence here.

You did not want that.

“Come out, come out, little kitten, we’re done playing…” Ransom bargained teasingly, trying to coax you out of your hiding place. “You’re a smart little thing, Omega, but I’m your Alpha… I’ll always find you.”

You swallowed the whimper threatening to spill from deep within your throat at his praise, cursing him to his damnest and yet ready to fall on your knees for him at once, fresh gush of arousal dampening your core. He knew what he was doing. The low dangerous but playful tone sent shivers down your spine, no doubt heightening your scent.

You were a smart little thing; you had rubbed your wrist along your mating gland, sending your scent dispersing in the air, all over the house; you had rubbed the sensitive aromatic skin of your wrist all over pieces of furniture around the mansion, doing your best to overwhelm and confuse your Alpha’s senses, making it impossible for him to tell what was but a trace of your scent and where you actually were… and apparently, you succeeded.

You must have, because he had never chased you for so long. He would have normally found you in third if not fourth of the time. You were getting better; and the longer the chase, the more adrenalin flooded your veins, excitement and anticipation stirring deep within your belly.

The more riled up Ransom got, the more pleasant the outcome was – and that was the goal.

The aftermath of the chase could be oh so pleasant…

The images flooding your mind sent fresh whiff of your arousal to the air, causing you to rub your legs together as silently as possible while still getting the much-needed friction.

Then, you froze.

You heard his footsteps, quick and almost soundless, like one of an apex predator; the predator he was. The alpha.

You could run; and you would. You just needed to time it perfectly to keep up the game.

“Oh Omega… you smell so fuckin’ sweet. I can’t wait to have you begging me to stop eating you out and just finally give you a good ol’ fuckin’…” he drawled out a promise, making you bite your tongue this time.

Not yet, not yet, not—

Now!

You sprang from the wall, using your hands to push away and gain more momentum – but it was a second too late.    

Ransom’s large body pinned you against the opposite wall in a blink of an eye, his ful weight and sheer strength preventing you from moving your feet a single inch.

He was firm and hot and hard against your front, long fingers wrapped around your wrists like handcuffs nailed to the wall next to your head, his nose already running up your throat, causing you to instinctively tip your head back to make space for him, rewarded by a broad lick up your mating glad. Your knees buckled under the onslaught of arousal and bliss combined, your Alpha’s body simply pressing into yours further with a dark delighted chuckle.

“Oh my bratty little Omega… when do you even learn?” he mused, teasing your bond with his teeth, your responding gasp and the damn-near spasm to your core making you jerk your hips only encouraging him to double on his ministrations, your heart a second from beating its way out of your chest. Craving him, craving to feel more, you vainly tried to move your hands so you could touch him, explore his brilliant physique, map every crevice of his taunt muscles with your palms, to breathe in all the nuances of his magnificent scent. You needed to know if he needed you just as much as you needed him, if your little escapade aroused him and drove him at least half as mad.

But he wouldn’t budge, nailing you to the wall unrelentingly.

“Alpha-“

“Oh Omega… you fought good… but when I’m done with you, you’ll never want to run away from me ever again.”

With that playful growl, his lips slanted over yours in a claiming kiss, all remnants of rational thoughts evaporating from your head. Your body slipped fully into an omega mode – to be good, so good for your Alpha, so he would be so good to you in return.

But your last thought was one of rebellion and submission at once; despite what he was saying, you knew you’d run again. You’d have him chase you, because the rush it gave you, the most exquisite kind of high you had never thought you’d experience, was too addictive.

And the outcome?

So. Damn. Worth. It.

Even if it cost you a few pieces of underwear and other pieces of clothing Ransom tore apart to ruin you, even if it left you a soaking panting mess, indeed begging your Alpha for things you had never thought you might imagine, let alone speak – whine, really – out loud.

As Ransom’s long fingers slipped into your panties and ripped the fabric clear, you made more than just peace with your fate and vowed to meet this kind of fate halfway next time as well.

-🥹😇🥹-

My hand... slipped. Oops. This was not the introduction to the a/o/b verse I imagined. Ah, well.

Thank you for reading - and I hope you enjoyed 🥹

Thank you @chase-your-dreams-away for playing 💕

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

Warnings: Afab!reader, gendered language, brat taming, forced submission, corporal punishment, non consensual spanking, thigh grinding, mutual masturbation, belt spanking, some very mild violence (reader is mostly a helpless bystander nvxcnvde), a pinch of angst for spice

A/N: okay, I promise I’ll work on the next kinktober prompt now 🙈 and also we're just gonna' pretend Wriothesley has an actual belt somewhere on his person, I eyeballed the hell out of his official art and started to doubt myself buuuuuut I was already fully committed to the bit so dvdknvgkdngg

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!” 

Looking up from the sheaf of papers in his hand, Wriothesley swivels his head around to watch you disembark from the elevator with a noticeably eager skip in your step. He quirks a brow at it and fully turns to greet you at your approach. “Good morning, little miss. You certainly seem to be in a good mood today.” 

You can’t quite keep the smile off your face as you come to a stop in front of him, practically vibrating in your excitement. “Of course I am! Todays the day I finally get to meet with some of the inmates and get started on our new program, what else would I be?” 

He smiles at that. “While your enthusiasm is quite commendable, I must remind you not to get your hopes up too much. The group that volunteered for this is a — mixed crowd, so to speak. I’m not exactly sure what sort of reaction you’re going to get.” 

Drawing a stilted breath, you square your shoulders and give him a brief nod of understanding. You knew he was just being practical and realistic as always, but you felt good about this. Optimistic. You were positive your efforts would soon pay off in a very real, very tangible way, and at last justify all the grief you’d suffered at his hands just to get here. For weeks now you’d been meeting with him, discussing, planning, organizing and fine tuning a plan of implementation, all while wrestling with your own self control where the duke was concerned. There wasn’t any use denying that you liked kissing him a great deal. In fact, it seemed to be your new favorite activity, amongst other, less wholesome things … 

Even now you could feel the urge to go up on your tiptoes so you could tug him down to your level threatening to overpower your common sense, but there were much more important matters at hand. You’d told yourself this over and over again, repeating it like a mantra to steel your resolve and keep your mind focused on matters of business instead of giving in, and it was going to pay off. Today. Here and now. You could feel it. 

“I understand, your grace. I will make sure to keep my expectations appropriately tempered.” 

Wriothesley looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe that, but he relents without further pressing you on it. His boots sound impossibly heavy on the steel plated flooring as he half turns, motioning you ahead. “Let’s be off then. Did you bring everything you need?” 

“Yes, your grace.” Clutching your worn leather carry case in hand, you fall into step beside him as he leads you down the long winding corridor. 

The Fortress of Meropide is somehow both stuffy and chilly at the same, the air thick but infused with the cool temperature bleeding in off the water that surrounds it. You’d learned your lesson the first time you came here (in more ways than one) and had opted for a light jumper over your blouse to stave off the ever present note of cold which you could take off if you got too warm. That seemed like a not far off possibility when you were internally quaking with nerves, both eager and anxious, but for now at least you just keep your attention on him while he gives you a brief rundown of who was supposedly going to show up for this little meeting he’d arranged for you. 

Sixteen inmates had signed up. Not even half of that number were finished with their sentences, the vast majority still actively serving time, and you can’t help but feel a little disappointed about that. You’d of course hoped to give those who had made the conscious decision to stay at Meropide a chance to reconsider integrating back into overworld society but you try to remind yourself that this was only the first preliminary phase of a much greater project. If things went well today, there would be plenty of time to work with the others. 

“Ah, and before I forget.” He says, sending you a meaningful look. “Someone by the name of George should be in attendance, if he bothers to show up. He’s a little rough around the edges but don’t let what he says get under your skin. He’s had his sentence extended twice now and as I’m sure you can imagine he’s a bit grumpy about that.” 

“Understood.” You give the clutch of your bag a fierce squeeze. “May I ask why?” 

Wriothesley thinks that over for a beat. “The first time was due to excessive fighting outside of the regulated channels. We have a three strikes policy here, as I’ve mentioned before. I suspect he was trying to assert himself as the top dog in his block but he ran into a bit more opposition than he was expecting, so he had to start using his fists instead.” 

“And the other?” 

“He tried to take one of the sponsor representatives hostage and use her as a bargaining chip.” 

Your eyes go big. “Oh.” 

Smiling one of those rare but incredibly flattering genuine smiles, he reaches out to lightly nudge your elbow. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there the whole time to keep everything under control and make sure nobody gets out of hand but the ball will be in your court, little miss. I’m just your guard dog today.” 

You hate the way fluster slowly creeps up your neck but you valiantly stamp it back down as you shyly avert your gaze elsewhere. “Thank you, your grace. I … I really appreciate you doing this for me.” 

“I know you do. But don’t thank me just yet. Wait until after we see what kind of response you get.” 

That gentle warning niggles at the back of your mind like the tickling whisper of sharp claws brushing your skin, and your stomach gives a little flip. You were nervous to meet with them face to face despite being excited to get started. Working in the public affairs office and spending most of your time at a desk didn’t exactly prepare you for hands-on encounters such as this, but between your unfaltering conviction and Wriothesley’s ever present cool demeanor at your side you keep your head held high. 

Up a short flight of metal steps and down another steel plated hall, you find yourself stepping into a small room that, based on the rickety old tables tightly packed into the cramped space, looked like it was perhaps largely used as a card room. You can’t help but feel a dull rush of relief at finding it yet unoccupied by anyone. Unable to fight the urge any longer, you reach out to snag Wriothesley’s sleeve and he sedately turns to look down at you. 

Shuffling closer until you were practically pressed right up against him, you offer him an imploring look as you go up on your toes. “Your grace …?” 

Something distantly sparks in his eyes and, humming softly, he carefully bends down to press his mouth to yours in an altogether chaste kiss. But even for as innocent as it is — not nearly as heated as some of the kisses you’d exchanged with him in recent memory — it still inspires a flood of warmth in you that races down your body. Sighing softly, you lean further into him and give yourself over to the stilted, hard press of his lips on yours. 

It lasts for only a brief moment though, and your lashes flutter against the apples of your cheeks when he pulls back just enough to speak. “Don’t be scared.” He tells you quietly, so gently it makes your heart wrench. 

“I’m not scared, just … nervous, is all. I think.” 

Humming quietly, he gives you another quick, lingering kiss that makes your bottom lip warble against your will. “You’ll do great. I know you will, but even if you should happen to fall I’ll be right there to catch you. Just like always, right?” 

Your face was quickly starting to become unbearably hot. Oh, how you wanted him so badly, even if he was the most confounding, frustrating man you’d ever met. “Will — will you have me later? When we’re done …?” 

Wriothesley goes still, just looking at you for a drawn out moment, but you’re a little too embarrassed to be saying something so shameful out loud to meet his gaze anymore. Flutteringly, your hand comes up to anxiously tug at the fur collar of his coat under the guise of straightening it for him, even though you really wanted to use it to tug him in against you. 

Finally, at length, he draws a carefully tempered breath. “How do you want me to have you, little miss?” 

The violent shudder that abruptly tears through you almost has you going cross eyed. “I - I’m not sure, I just … I feel like such a mess inside and everything is confusing, and I don’t know what it is exactly but I want you to — to - -“ 

“Oh, sweet girl,” He exhales slowly, and you jolt when one of his hands finds your hip. Giving it a tight, possessive squeeze to make you tremble, he drags that oppressive palm further back and around to grab a pinching handful of your ass. “Do you need me to ground you in place? Is that what you’re asking me for? Huh?” 

You sway unsteadily, feeling terribly faint when it seemed as if you were being smothered under his weighty presence. The heavy, rough calloused hand gripping your backside through the seat of your pants, the body heat bleeding off of him in waves to settle into you; the smell of him swarming your senses to settle on the back of your tongue and leave the masculine taste you’d come to recognize solely as the duke’s cloying in your throat. It was all too much. 

Much, much too much. 

Whimpering softly, you force your attention up to look in his face, still hovering mere millimeters from yours even when doing so proves to be quite the struggle. “Yes.” It’s little more than a faint whisper. “I want … I need you to reorient me. It feels like I’m — lost out at sea. I don’t know how else to describe it.” 

With a barely audible, rumbling growl, Wriothesley closes his fingers around the meat of your ass hard enough to make your breath hitch in your chest. “You need your head cleared so you can focus all that energy you have where it belongs. I’ll give you that outlet, as much as you require it. I have no problem giving you a guiding hand, little miss. You know that.” 

Your mouth warbles in a jittery smile, unable to keep it at a bay even when you try very hard to stop it from spreading across your face. You didn’t fully understand it yourself, what you were asking for or what you needed. All you’d seemed to grasp over the short time you’d known him was that Wriothesley made you feel good. Almost inexplicably so. Even when he was being infuriating and condescending towards you, even when he’d give your poor bottom a handful of stinging swats at the first sign of attitude to remind you to behave yourself, it still didn’t detract from this flutter low in your gut. There was something deeply gratifying about being with him like this, in this particular dynamic, and for as little as you know what to make of any of it, he seems to know exactly what it is you instinctively crave from him. Why you keep seeking him out this way. 

The sapphires in his eyes shutter with what you’re starting to recognize as desire in his otherwise implacable facade and he leans in again, issuing an anticipatory breath into the scant space separating you. His mouth finds yours, as sure as any compass points north, drawing a threadbare moan from the depths of your shuddering gut. You lean into him, lips carefully parting to kiss him back, and — the shuffling sound of heavy approaching footsteps echoing off the metal walls has you wrenching back from him so fast your head spins. 

Eyes going impossibly wide, you quickly slap him away in your fluster and rush to extricate yourself from his person. Chuckling softly, as if he wasn’t at all concerned about being caught in such a compromising situation, Wriothesley lets you go, but not without a playful swat to your ass when you move to brush past him. You yelp at the mild sting but keep your attention ahead as you hurry over to deposit your bag on one of the tables so you can dig in it and give your racing heart a chance to calm down. Even now you somehow manage to be surprised at how utterly unapologetic he was about everything! 

Forcing your lungs to expand on a deep, steadying breath, you listen to the approaching shuffle behind you until an unmistakable shift of occupancy in the cramped room indicated that you were no longer alone with the duke. You keep your head down just a moment longer, both to ensure you had your expression under control and to also listen to the way Wriothesley amicably greets the inmates. You’d never gotten to see him interact with them before and, rather than coming off like the strict, hardass warden you’d had a first impression of, he almost seems to talk to them like they were … friends? Or at least on friendly terms with each other. 

Could it really be that you were the only one unlucky (or lucky, depending on how you looked at it) enough to bring out that side of him? But why would that be …? 

Slowly, more people start to drift in and you have to make a concerted effort to shove those thoughts to the back of your mind so you can stay focused on what really matters. You take your time neatly organizing your stacks of papers, the forms you’d carefully composed on the typewriter in the affairs office, and make a concerted effort to greet everyone with a smile when they move away from the duke to find their seats. Some of them are rather friendly when they respond, but others simply look at you without a single word and not so much as a backwards glance. No matter, though. You didn’t exactly come here to make friends. 

All in all, only seven inmates show up. A pair of shady looking brothers, one woman and the rest are men who just disinterestedly eye you up and down with varying levels of annoyance reflecting in their eyes. You can’t quite shake the feeling that they’d expected someone a bit more impressive than the slight, eager-faced woman wearing a jumper and slacks standing before them now, and it probably didn’t help that you looked downright diminutive standing next to Wriothesley either. Oh, well. You were just going to have to try and make the best of it. 

“Hello, everyone,” You chirp, a little higher in pitch than you’d intended thanks to your jittery nerves. “It looks like we won’t be getting anyone else today, so let’s get started. I’m very excited to be working with all of you.”

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares. 

You waver slightly, but recover admirably. “I’m from the office of public affairs, and recently I’ve been working with his grace here to come up with programs for the prison that can help or otherwise enrich the lives of the inmates here. I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to come see me, and I hope you’ll feel comfortable enough to speak freely. This preliminary meeting is first and foremost going to function as a feeler so we can get an idea of what sort of activities you'd like to see offered at the prison in the future.” 

More silence. More staring. 

You can feel your face starting to grow warm even though you’ve also broken out into a cold sweat, and you flounder for something else to say. Far be it that you’d expected them to jump for joy and lift you in the air over their heads in celebration or anything as preposterous as that, but you had anticipated at least some kind of response. What were you supposed to do when they wouldn’t even speak so much as a single word to you? It’s not like you could get anything of worth out of this if you were the only one talking. 

Suddenly, Wriothesley shifts beside you and the soft creak of his boots makes your pulse nervously jump. “I expect all of you to show our guest some respect today. I'm not sure why you would sign up for this if you had no intention of participating, so let’s get it in gear. If you have something to say, now is your chance to say it.” 

The brothers sitting nearest to you bend their heads close and exchange a quick, muffled conversation between themselves, but you’re a little too rattled by the tone of Wriothesley’s voice to make out what they’re saying. Ah, so it wasn’t just you then. Good to know. 

“What sort of activities are we talking here?” One of the men in the rear suddenly speaks up, snapping your attention back into the present. 

“O - oh, yes. We were thinking things like trade skills and daily lifestyle necessities that could give you a better sense of independence while you’re here. Things like sewing or cooking, or - -“

“Why would we need any of that?” The only other woman in the room chimes in. “Meropide works just fine as is and the system already in place provides us with all of that.”

“Well, yes, but - -“ 

“Yeah, what do I need to know sewing for when I could just as easily pass it off to someone who already knows how to do it?” One of the brothers, the larger and seemingly more cantankerous of the two, adds on, making you pull your mouth into a firm line. 

“That’s exactly why.” You assert in an equally firm voice. “The prison’s internal functionality works like a well oiled machine, doesn’t it? Why want for anything else when everything is already right where it needs to be. Just like cogs, everyone fits into their role and they fit it well. You all keep Meropide running as it should, there’s no doubt about that. But each and every one of you has a life beyond the role you take on here. You aren’t just cogs, and you aren’t just part of the greater machine. I want to give you a chance to be independent of that clockwork, even if it’s only for an hour or two each day, and remind you that there’s still something beyond these tin walls.”

You draw a steadying breath, carefully taking in the faces sitting before you. It looked like a few of them were starting to come around, or were at least curious enough to actually hear you out now, and that bolsters your courage by some margin. You could do this. You would. 

“I know how easy it is to get comfortable with the lifestyle here. His grace has taken the time to explain to me in great detail the ins and outs of the prison, how everyone lives on a schedule, what freedoms you’re allotted and what has restricted access. I’m aware that there is a great deal of self governing here in the fortress, which is precisely why I want to give you all an opportunity to deviate from that routine. It might be fun, right? Having a little bit of your old life back?” 

A few looks are exchanged between some of the inmates, a soft murmur rising up, and your heartbeat starts to quicken. Next to you, Wriothesley snorts a quiet laugh before moving back to lean against the wall, leaving you feeling strangely alone and exposed standing there by yourself. You shoot him a quick, harried glance over your shoulder but he just crosses his arms over his chest and nudges his chin at the small congregation. When you turn back around, you’re more than a little surprised to find the other woman leaning towards you in obvious interest.  

“I always wanted to be a seamstress some day.” She abruptly announces, startling you slightly. “My mother taught me when I was younger, but I never got a chance to really hone the skill. Is that really something you could arrange?” 

You swallow your nerves, hearing Wriothesley’s reminder not to get your hopes up in the back of your mind, but it was so hard not to when she was looking at you like that. You wanted to help her. More than anything else, you just wanted to give them something more to live for. 

“I believe we can. His grace and I have already reached out to a few businesses, and a few of them have expressed willingness to volunteer their services to the prison. I’m sure if everything goes well and word of mouth starts to spread, we could convince others to do the same as well.” 

“I did always want to be a chef.” The larger brother admits somewhat sheepishly, and you smile. You couldn’t help it. 

This was really working. 

It doesn’t take long to have a full dialogue going after that. Even with the one or two stragglers still wary and uncertain about introducing any real changes to the system the overall reception seems to be resoundingly positive. You talk with them, discussing what they’d like to do, what they’d like to potentially see implemented, and through it all Wriothesley just hangs back against the wall, watching over everything like a silent sentry just at your back. He even stays true to his word and lets you be in charge even when tempers seem to flare up in disagreement every so often instead of snatching the reins from you at the first sign of trouble. All it takes is a sharp look from him or a low word of warning, and everyone grudgingly settles back down, which was not something you’d expected to relate so much with them about but you do. It almost feels like a strange sense of solidarity in a way, and you were immensely glad to have him on your side like this. 

Everything goes so well, in fact, that by the time a real problem raises its head, you almost overlook it completely. The man in the far back corner hadn’t said much at all over the course of the last hour and some change, but you’d felt his burning gaze on you the whole time. He appeared to be the most opposed to the program you’d presented to the group, but you hadn’t been able to squeeze the reason out of him yet which is why you eventually defer to your hand typed forms. You’d thought it would be a good idea to have them put their thoughts down in writing in case they felt too shy to say it out loud, and you hoped your careful planning would pay off in this. 

You’re in the process of handing out the papers to everyone along with the pencils you’d brought along, slowly making your way over to him last, and he tips his head back as if in challenge at your approach. You had a sneaking suspicion who he was, of course, but you still offer him a cheerful smile as you move closer. 

“I know you haven’t said much today, but I hope you’ll share any thoughts you have on the form. It’s really helpful to have different perspectives on things like this.” You tell him, holding out the sheet. 

“Can’t write.” He rumbles, making your hand falter. 

“Oh.” You hadn’t even considered that being a possibility. “I - I’m sorry. Maybe we could see about starting up classes so you can - -“

“Don’t want em’” 

You blink at him owlishly, trying to make sense of his surly attitude, but Wriothesley calls over from the other side of the room before you can think of something to say. “Watch yourself, George. I’m not going to give you another warning.” 

Ah. So your suspicions were correct. 

You start to pull back, decidedly unnerved by the way he clearly wants nothing at all to do with you, but then you see the look that flashes across his eyes. Like a street hardened dog that was ready to bite in retaliation. You almost hate yourself for it, but your heart irreparably softens and you turn your head to send Wriothesley a reassuring look. “It’s alright, your grace. I don’t mind.” 

He begins to open his mouth to say something but you whip your head back around, speaking before he can further insert himself into the conversation. 

“Please don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know not all of us have been given the same kind of opportunities in life. Where are you from, George?” 

The grizzled man sends you a slow look, the muscles in his jaw working with what you think is probably irritation, but you refuse to back down or give up on him. He was still a person deserving of respect and dignity no matter how much he might hate you. 

“Fleuve Cendre.” He says at length, and you feel a distant twang of understanding in the back of your mind. The underground sewer systems in the Court of Fontaine were not always the best place to grow up so it made sense, in a way. 

“I see. Well, if you’re at all interested I can make every effort to arrange for someone to come teach you how to write, or maybe I could even do it myself. Does that sound like a good idea?” 

He suddenly leans forward in his chair, getting right in your face, and it takes everything you have not to go scuttling back though you do give a startled jerk in surprise. “Not a chance! I don’t want your stinking charity, lady!” He practically spits at you, vitriolic and full of malice. 

“Charity?” You incredulously echo him, but he reaches out to viciously grab your wrist before you can think of anything else to say. 

“That’s right! You think I need you looking down on me or something? How about I tell you exactly where you can shove it instead!” 

You open your mouth to say — what, you don’t know, but a shift of motion in your peripheral stops you in your tracks. Snapping your head up, you’re not the least bit surprised to find Wriothesley quickly closing the distance with long, purposeful strides, but it still horrifies you and your heart promptly jackhammers straight up into your throat. 

“Wait!” You shriek, holding your uncaptured arm out as if to stop him. Like you even could. He’s like a solid wall moving towards you and you could already see how this was going to play out, your eyes going round as saucers seconds before a violent wrench on your arm takes you right off your feet. 

In a sudden rush of movement that you can’t even begin to process or comprehend, you abruptly find yourself pinned to the front of George who’s shot up out of his seat. Wriothesley comes to an immediate halt, just short of being within arms reach, and you stare up at him in unseeing disbelief as George shuffles back to press himself into the corner, using you like a shield. You’re distantly aware of an eruption of chaos in the rest of the room, likely a result of everyone rushing to get out of the way, chairs loudly scraping and clattering against the floor, but you feel strangely numb to it all. 

The only thing you can manage to think at that moment is that you were going to be in so much trouble once everything was said and done. 

“Don’t touch me, you bastard aristocrat!” 

“Wha — h - hold on a minute!” You squawk, feet kicking uselessly at the floor in a blind attempt to find some traction. It’s no use though, and your shoes just slip and slide against the papers you’d dropped in the shuffle. 

“I thought we already went over this, George. You know taking hostages isn’t going to get you anywhere except straight into solitary.” Wriothesley intones, and the surprisingly calm, leveled quality of his voice surprises you slightly, prompting you to bring your head back up. But the look you find in his face, the icy heat curling in his eyes, is anything but tranquil, and your stomach twists in dread. 

You’d never seen him look like that before … like he could really kill someone. 

“I don’t want to hear it!” George snaps, nervously clutching you against him — as if you were going to stop anything! “I’ve had enough of this place, and I’ve had enough of all of you! Always looking down on me like I’m less than dirt!” 

“No one is looking down on you.” Wriothesley says, clearly trying to reason with him. “Just calm down and let her go. I know you’re having a hard time adjusting, and I’m sure having your sentence extended didn’t help with that, but this is only going to make things worse for you in the long run. You can’t bargain your way out of this.” 

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!” 

“You what!” You shriek, nails sinking into the arm pinned across your front, but they both summarily ignore you. 

“That’d show you not to mess with me!” George continues on. “I’m serious, you know! I’ll do it!” 

“And why would you go and do a stupid thing like that?” Wriothesley shoots right back. “If you’re hoping to spend the rest of your life in Meropide you don’t have to do this to accomplish that. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like.” 

“Dammit, I want out of here! I can’t stand this place! No sun, no fresh air, no sky! It feels like I’m going crazy down here!” 

“Then let her go. You still have a chance to return to the surface someday and you’ll get to see the sky as much as you want then, but that’s not going to happen if you keep this up. If you extend your sentence much further, you’re just going to seal your own fate. Permanently.” 

That actually seems to give him pause, and you hold your breath in anticipation of the pin dropping even when your chest strains and aches in protest. You almost didn’t dare to hope that he would actually listen to reason when you were viscerally aware of all the impotent rage and unrealized frustration coursing through his body, making him shake against you. It didn’t appear to be a bluff, at least not where you were standing. You think he really could kill you if pushed far enough, but … slowly, his hold on you eventually starts to relax. 

“I don’t want to be trapped under the ocean for the rest of my life …” He murmurs, a brief glimpse of cognizance returning to him after that manic flash. 

“Then hand the young lady over to me and let’s be done with it. I think this has gone on long enough, George.” 

Carefully reaching out for you, Wriothesley takes a step forward. His ability to stay cool and collected even in a situation like this surprises you a great deal, of course, but you find some amount of comfort in his unflappable demeanor. It helps you stay calm, in as much as you’re able to at least, and a dull wave of relief washes over you when George reluctantly pushes you away from himself, shoving you straight into Wriothesley’s waiting arm. 

You almost don’t believe it as his hand grabs around your waist and tightly gathers you up against him, angling you further from the inmate. It felt like you were dreaming. Numb to everything that had happened over the last few inexplicably short moments, you turn in his hold just in time to watch Wriothesley snag George’s wrist before he can pull it back all the way. 

And just like that, he snaps the bone with one solid twist. 

The sickening crack! that rings out makes your stomach lurch up into your throat. 

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

Slamming Wriothesley’s office door open hard enough to make it bang against the interior wall, you storm inside so mad you could just scream! 

He comes in behind you at a leisurely pace just a moment later, taking his time to close and lock it, but you’re a little too caught up in the absolutely blinding surge of anger you’re trying to wrestle with to question it. Seething viciously, you start to pace the perimeter of the room. It’s all you can think to do. You wanted to scream at him, kick him, slap him, spit at him! What was wrong with this man that he would ever think that kind of violence was okay? 

“Are you alright?” He eventually asks you, just standing there in the doorway watching you stomp around his office as if it were a perfectly normal sight to see. That evenly tempered, almost blase tone of his voice just makes you see red though, and you finally round on him with a wordless shriek. 

“Why did you do that to him?” 

“He was dangerous.” Wriothesley says it like it should have been obvious. “I think he made that quite clear, don’t you?” 

“It doesn’t matter! He’d already let me go, you didn’t need to hurt him like that! It was just excessive at that point, you damn brute!” 

“That doesn’t mean he couldn't still hurt you. You’re not stupid, little miss. I know you’re aware of just how differently that could have played out if he hadn’t listened to me, and I wasn’t about to risk him changing his mind and having the means to lash out. You’re acting like I killed the poor guy.” 

You couldn’t seem to process his logic and, with no other choice, you return to your fitful pacing. “I don’t understand you. It doesn’t even make any sense. You say you care about your inmates but then you turn around and do something like that?” 

“I care about you too.” 

Stopping dead in your tracks, you slowly turn to look back at him again. The chill that creeps over you is suffocating, threatening to choke you up on the spot. “No. Do not do that. Not right now!” 

“But it’s true.” 

“I don’t care if it’s true!” You shout, impulsively closing the distance so you can jab your finger into the center of his chest. “You broke that man’s wrist, your grace! That was uncalled for! If you cared about him, or the others, or me you wouldn’t have done something so — so unnecessarily violent! He was just … he was just scared, is all. I think.” 

Wriothesley reaches up to carefully take your hand off him and you flinch at the contact but still let him do it because … because you don’t know why. You’re well aware you should be yanking out of his hold like he’d scalded you, skin crawling at just the touch of those rough worn fingers, but you can’t quite bring yourself to do that right now. Not when it felt like you were moments away from shattering to pieces right there in his office. 

“You think?” 

“I don’t know. Not really, but … he could have hurt me if he wanted to, right? But he didn’t. He only used me like a shield because you were coming, and he panicked. I can’t really blame him for that. I’d be scared too.” 

“I bet.” He murmurs, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the backs of your loosely curled knuckles. Grimacing at the gesture, unable to reconcile it in your mind — this soft version of the duke and the brutal prison warden — and you quickly look away. “I’m sorry you’re unhappy with how I handled the situation. I probably did frighten you, and you have my sincerest apologies for that as well, little miss. But you have to understand that I was protecting you.”

“I didn’t ask to be protected!” You seethe. “Least of all like that!” 

“Be that as it may, I still did what needed to be done. I already told you once, didn’t I? I’m your guard dog. You were in danger and I acted accordingly. It’s not fair of you to be so upset with me when I was only doing my job.” 

“But there must have been another way - -“

“There wasn’t. Believing any different is just naive and childish. You need to let go of this little fantasy you have that everything can be solved peacefully if you’re just nice enough. That’s not how the real world works.” 

You jerk your attention up with a low snarl, but he just looks at you with the same unreadable expression as always. He wasn’t the least bit sorry, nor did he feel any real regret for what he’d done. Not only that but he would have done it again without a second's hesitation. You could see it in his face, clear as day. He may as well have been saying it out loud for as little he tries to hide it. 

“It doesn’t work with violence either.” You finally rattle out, shaking in his hold. 

“I’d say my methods are a bit more effective than yours. You’re safe, aren’t you? If anything, you should be thanking me.” 

Your pulse spikes as you wrench your hand free and slap him as hard as you can, popping him right across the mouth. Wriothesley doesn’t even flinch and that just makes you angrier. Going up on the tips of your toes to get as close to him as you’re able to, you hiss at him with every bit of vitriol you can muster. “Is that thanks enough for you, your grace?” 

Terse silence descends over the room, interspersed only by your heavy breathing. At length, he finally draws a short, clipped breath. 

“I’m going to give you one chance and one chance only to apologize for doing that. I do hope you make the right decision.”

Veins turning icy, you bring your hands up to shove at his chest and push yourself away. “You wouldn’t dare. Not right now. Not when I’m so mad at you I could just - -“

He’s on you in an instant. 

For someone so big he certainly moves quick, and you barely have enough time to suck in a ragged, gasping breath of air as he roughly grabs under your arms and hauls you right up off your feet. The sudden rush of movement makes you nauseous, your stomach flipping end over end. Throwing your head back, you suck in a mouthful of air to scream. 

Wriothesley abruptly drops you back down to the floor before you can follow through and the sudden impact makes sharp, splintering pain race up your legs. That split second hesitation on your part is all he needs to get a hand over your mouth and your eyes go big in wild terror as he all but drags you by the back of your jumper towards the chaise lounge against the far wall. You wrench against his hold like a trapped animal, desperate and mindless as you shriek behind his palm, but the sound comes out muffled. Distant. There’s nothing at all you can do to stop it as he pulls you over and plops down on the cushions before yanking you down to kneel between his feet. 

You wince at the way your knees slam against the unforgiving ground but you don’t get a chance to fully process the hurt. He bends over you and reaches back to grab the back of your pants, using them to yank you up and brace you over his thigh. His hand stays locked around your mouth though, making it hard to breathe when you were sucking in quick, panicked gasps, one right after another as you frantically try to shove at him. 

His hand abruptly cracks across your ass with enough force to leave you seeing stars, and you wordlessly shriek into his palm. Winded and lurching, you instinctively try to angle away from him but the way he’s got you trapped between his legs makes it impossible to get very far. He hits you again, right on the mark, and hot tears immediately rush up to flood your eyes. Wailing in pain and impotent frustration now, you blindly reach up to shove at his arm. 

Wriothesley’s fingers just tighten around the lower half of your face though, securing his hold on you, while the other hand continues to rain down on your bottom in quick, blistering succession. Even through your pants it makes your toes curl achingly tight as you writhe there on the floor, rocking against his leg with each punishing blow. 

You couldn’t believe him, doing this to you in a situation like this! It was one thing when you were being bratty or stubborn, or hardheaded, and you’d even come to rather enjoy those intimate sessions with him in which he’d gradually break you down piece by piece before building you back up into a whole, complete person again. It was strangely relaxing, comforting even. Therapeutic. But this was something else entirely. You were mad for a good reason. You’d hit him for a good reason! It wasn’t fair that he could spank your ass red and raw, but you couldn’t even slap him once without incurring his wrath. 

So caught up in the tumultuous surge of emotions assaulting you all at once, you almost don’t realize when the tears start tracking down your face. They burn against your heated skin and pool in the seam where his hand is sealed over your face from the nose down, gathering there before eventually dribbling over his blunt knuckles. He has to feel it, has to know you’re crying, practically sobbing, but still he doesn’t stop. He just keeps spanking you, again and again, again, until the throbbing pain scorching across your defenseless backside seems to reach incomprehensible levels that have you struggling just to think through it. 

And you try to, desperate to cling to your anger and your fear, the betrayal you’d felt when he broke that poor man’s wrist right in front of your very eyes with hardly any effort at all to show for it. You hadn’t thought him capable. Even now when he was lighting your ass up it seemed like an entirely inconceivable notion for him to be capable of that level of cruelty. But it’s next to impossible to hold onto any of those thoughts or feelings when you were so swept up in the pulsing thrum of hurt he’s inflicting on you and slowly, ever so slowly, your mind starts to go blank. 

Evidently feeling you go lax against his knee in acceptance, Wriothesley’s voice starts to drift over you and it seamlessly penetrates the fog hanging over your head to dig straight into your brain. “I’m not sure who you think you are,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “But I have to say,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “I’m actually rather impressed you had the guts to do that,” whap, whap, whap, whap “I suppose that’s why I like you so much though,” whap, whap, whap, whap, “You're so damn bullheaded you just don’t know when to quit.” 

Groaning deliriously into the meat of his hand, you mechanically bring your hand down to clutch his pant leg in a death grip while the other blindly stretches back as if to protect yourself from his strikes. He pauses above you as your trembling fingers creep across your bottom, drawing a clipped, mildly annoyed breath. 

“Move your hand.” 

You wail something that might have been a ‘no!’, incomprehensibly muffled, and he clicks his tongue at the petulance. 

“Don’t test my patience with you any further, little girl. You have no idea just how much I can really make it hurt if you want to be cute.” 

Noising a sound of surprised confusion, you hastily retract your hand in favor of shoving it up against his stomach and pushing at him with renewed determination, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. Leaning forward, he reaches down the front of your body to fumble with the buttons on your pants. You squeal a muffled protest and try to angle away again to no avail. It takes him a prolonged moment to get them with the use of only one hand, but eventually he has your slacks undone and he starts to roughly shove them down your quaking thighs. 

“You know,” He says almost conversationally, as calm as ever while your internal panic was just ratcheting higher and higher. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, so let me explain something to you. There’s a right way and a wrong way to go about things, and somehow you always seem to consistently pick the wrong choice. I don’t mind so much that you’re upset with me. I still don’t think that was very fair of you, but you’re entitled to your own opinion. I’m certainly not trying to take that away from you.”

He’s finally got your pants bunched around your knees but, rather than spanking you over your panties next, he instead starts to yank those down too. A violent shudder tears through you at the implication, the suggestion, your blood running so hot for him it has you swaying there on the floor even as you give your head a weak shake. If he was skipping the usual buildup then he must have been rather upset with you indeed. 

“But as always you get too carried away. You won’t stop until you push me enough to end up over my knee, getting your butt spanked like a child.” He swats your bare ass for emphasis, making you shriek and sob at the pulsing sting as much as the resulting jiggle it causes. “Do you have anything to say for yourself? Huh?” 

You nod your head frantically, noising behind his hand, and Wriothesley gives your face a dull squeeze of warning. 

“I’m going to take my hand away but I promise if you scream you’re going to find yourself getting hit with something much worse than a hairbrush, do you understand me?”  

Another nod, even more wild than the last. 

Slowly, his fingers loosen and then tentatively fall away, leaving you to gasp wretchedly at the flood of fresh air. You slump against him and try to catch your breath, wet little hiccups making your back bow. “I … I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have — shouldn’t have hit you!”

“I’d say that’s an understatement.” 

Forcibly pulling yourself up even though it hurts to do so, you twist on your knees to peer up at him. Your lower lip promptly wobbles when you see the hard way he’s looking at you but you just sniffle and reach up to wipe at your tear stained face. “You made me so mad! And you never take me seriously! I tell you something and it seems like you always just brush me off!” 

Wriothesley watches you shake and heave for a drawn out moment before sedately slouching down, elbows shifting forward to brace against his knees so he can lean over you. The gesture makes you feel so incredibly small and insignificant, a borderline hysterical sob bursting out of your mouth which you quickly cover with your hand. You screw your eyes shut, trying to calm down, but he just hovers over you like that in complete and utter silence until the shudders wracking through you get too uncontrollable and you start to sway dizzily on the floor. 

His nearest hand finds your back and smooths over it in comforting circles, wrinkling your jumper in the process. Sucking in a thin, gasping breath, you instinctively rock forward as if to heave but all you do is cough like some sad, pathetic broken little thing. 

“Calm down,” He murmurs, giving your trembling shoulders a firm pat. “You’re going to make yourself sick carrying on like that. Will you listen to me?” 

Sniveling, you blink through the thick sheen of tears making your vision swim and nod your head with a faint whimper. His hand stills on your back, keeping you in place as he leans further down to your level and tips his head so he can see your face. 

“I wasn’t brushing you off. I understand why that upset you and I’m nothing if not sympathetic. Really, I am. If you want the honest truth of it, I regretted it almost as soon as I did it. I’ll have to apologize to George later and have a real long talk with him about what happened, but I’m not going to apologize for protecting you. You’re under my charge regardless of if we’re in the city or your house, but especially when you’re here. If something happened to you on my watch, that would be a resounding failure on my part. Can you understand that much, at least?” 

You hesitate and then nod your head again, not quite trusting yourself enough to speak yet. Wriothesley gives you an approving squeeze and another idle pat that makes you whimper softly. His hand was so big it felt like it was taking up almost the whole of your back … 

“I didn’t mean to scare you … you know that, right?” 

“Y - yes …” 

“Good. Because that I will apologize for. It was unnecessary. I should have completely removed you from the situation first before acting but he just had me so mad, I wasn’t thinking straight, and … honestly, I probably owe you an apology for that too I had some reservations about letting him come to the meeting of course, given his track record, but I thought maybe it would help him adjust a little better if he had something from the overworld to keep him busy. Preoccupied.” 

Gingerly, you shift on your knees so you’re knelt directly under him rather than braced up against his leg, and you lift your hands to hesitantly slide them across his strong jawline. Wriothesley let’s you do it, much to your thrumming relief, and you carefully tip his face towards you until just a scant breath separates his nose from yours. 

“What’s going to happen to him now?” 

He just looks at you, and your face slowly starts to crumple. 

“Please don’t let him get into trouble.” You plead, unable to bear the thought of his sentence being extended because of you. “It was just a mistake and I wasn’t hurt. He didn’t do anything wrong, your grace! Not really. Please, please don’t punish him.” 

Stiffly, he sighs out through his nose. “And there you go being naive again. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to protect him at this point. He’s sealed his own fate.”

“But that’s … that’s terrible! If I hadn’t been there — if you hadn’t let me come here that never would have even happened! I’m the one at fault here, aren’t I? I’ll take the punishment in his stead! That would be fine, right?” 

“Lovely girl - -“ 

Wriothesley reaches out with his other hand to cup your face and you try to pull away, a fresh wave of tears springing up in your eyes, but he holds you fast. Tipping his head, he seals his mouth over yours and swallows down the muffled wail you let out. Even when the rolling beads of moisture start to track down your damp face, he just kisses you and kisses you until you finally start to stir underneath him some indeterminable amount of time later. 

You have no idea how long you’ve been sitting there on the floor but your legs are numb and prickly when you finally move, shifting forward to lean into him. Your breaths are still a little ragged through your nose but you start to kiss him back, tentatively slow at first and then with growing confidence. Growing hunger. The emptiness inside you is quickly filling up with a white hot, molten need, and you groan thickly into his mouth when you feel your pussy give a muted throb of interest. It matches the ever present sting across your ass, in a way, and you feel both in stunning high definition as you carefully raise up to meet him. 

Gradually easing back when you find your balance and sit up straight, Wriothesley brings his hands around to cup your ribcage. He squeezes, rucking up your jumper and blouse in the process but, as always, he doesn’t try to relieve you of it. That he was still willing to go about this on your terms, at your pace, fills your chest with a strange helium feeling, and you try to follow after him when he eventually pulls back all the way, whining low in your throat at the loss. 

“Come here, pretty girl.” He murmurs, tugging you up to stand and you do so with a great deal of haste even when your sore legs threaten to give out under you. Bracing a hand on his broad shoulder to steady yourself, you carefully step out of your sagging pants and underwear when he stoops down to pull them over your feet. 

Carelessly tossing your clothes aside, he grabs around your middle again and easily tugs you into his lap. Your heart pounds a wild beat inside your chest when you realize he’s centering you over his leg, and you quickly scramble to get into position. There’s no denying the excitement you feel searing your veins now, the speed at which you’d come to love this particular activity surprising even you. It felt like you were irreversibly addicted to it, and you moan very softly when your bare cunt presses down into his thigh. Pelvis tipping upward, you steal a quick glance down at yourself, still amazed at how broad and thick his leg looks under you. It’s not exactly hard to imagine something else forcing your thighs into a wide spread around him but that still scares a little more than you were willing to admit. 

Gently pulling you forward so that your cunt rocks down to settle squarely against his pant leg, Wriothesley gathers you right up against his chest and bends his head to yours again. You moan into the searing hot kiss and bring your hands up to clutch at him, the toes of your shoes bracing on the floor to give yourself leverage as you settle into a slow, mind numbing pace with him. 

It truly feels like your brain is melting when the stilted friction on your pussy soon makes you tremble and shake for him, panting heavily into his mouth. You’re distantly aware of the stiff tension in his body but Wriothesley just lets you find your pleasure on him without trying to take advantage of your muddied, intoxicated state. His hands roam over your body in a continuous caress, pinching, squeezing, kneading with rough calloused fingers, but he doesn’t wander to your chest or between your legs. He’d only touched you there once, back in that cramped little alley, but thinking back on it when you were moving with him like this … maybe you should invite him to touch you there again? It would probably feel good, and grinding yourself on his leg was such a slow, tortuous process. 

Or maybe you could try touching him? 

Turning your head to suck in a much needed lungful of fresh air, you take a moment to steady your nerves. You’d never crossed this line before, never been brave enough to take the plunge but, oh, you were so curious and your pussy positively clenches at the thought of feeling him under your palm. You wanted to touch him. You needed to. 

“Y - your grace …”

“What is it, pretty girl? What do you need?” He breathes into the scant pace separating you from him, head tipped back to look at your from this slightly elevated position. 

An intense shudder works through you at the thought of actually doing it, of actually saying the words, and you loose a keening mewl as you stubbornly turn your head to look elsewhere. You couldn’t look at him and say it, you just couldn’t! 

“Can … ahhn, would it be permissible for me to, um — t - touch you as well?” 

His thick fingers give a muted little jolt of surprise where they’re squeezing around your waist, and you tightly screw your eyes shut when he leans in to kiss the side of your neck. “Oh, little miss. You don’t have to ask. You can touch me as much as you want.” 

Trembling there on his lap, you hesitate to do it but finally gather enough courage to drag your hand down off his shoulder. Shyly watching the slow descent of it down his broad barrel chest, over his stomach, all the way down to the center of his lap. You give a tiny little jerk when you see the stiff outline pressing up against the interior, the motion of your hips inelegantly stuttering as you take in the shape of it, the size. It was indeed quite large, your heart nearly giving out entirely in your overwhelmed horror, but … but like this it wasn’t quite so bad. Not as scary as if you were perhaps looking at it straight on. 

Timidly cautious, you press your fingers over the outline and Wriothesley breathes out a thick, heavy sound that is suspiciously reminiscent of a growl. It seems to vibrate through you, pulling a quiet whimper out of your throat, but you force yourself to stay focused. Your curiosity was a little too compelling to get sidetracked now, and even your mindless rutting against him slows to a complete standstill while you feel along the length of him, just familiarizing yourself with the press of it against your hand. Even through his slacks it seems heavy and it’s so incredibly warm that you feel a dull, sympathetic tremor deep inside your cunt. 

Evidently realizing just how distracted you were, Wriothesley pulls back from your neck enough to look down at himself as well. “Is it so fascinating?” 

“A little bit …”

He laughs, sounding mildly strained. “If you’re curious I’ll teach you about it, but I won’t make you do anything you don’t feel comfortable with. In this, at least, I’ll play by your rules.” 

And he’d done such a good job respecting your boundaries thus far … perhaps it was alright to test the waters some. To give in to this primal urge coursing through your system, making you feel indescribably hot and mindless. 

“Would it really fit inside me?” 

The hushed noise he makes sounds so wounded it actually startles your attention up, and you take in his pained expression with great big eyes. 

“W - what? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, nothing. Please don’t start getting defensive, now of all times.” Grunting, Wriothesley grabs under your arms as he shifts back further against the lounge so he can rather gingerly recline back, pulling you right along with him. The careful motion stretches you out across his body to rest against his chest, prompting you to readjust the way you're straddling his thigh to keep your thrumming cunt pressed up tight against it. Letting out a shuddering exhale, he shifts underneath you just so before tipping his face down again. “If you say things like that you’re going to make this go crazy, and I’m not so sure you’re ready for that yet. Try rubbing it, like this.” 

You can’t quite stop the squeak of surprise that bursts out of you when he reaches over to grab your stilled hand. Redirecting you to the center of the bulge, he manually squeezes your trembling fingers around him and your skin positively crawls with an eruption of goosebumps when you feel it pulse against your palm. Wide eyed and quaking, you slowly bring your gaze back down to watch him guide your hand up along the rigid length and then back down again. You’d never before seen anything quite like it, but there was a very real, very primitive part of your brain that abruptly clicks on at the sight of it. 

“Will it hurt?”

“No.” He grunts, still dragging your hand up and down, up and down the length of him. “It feels good. Like when you rub that cute pussy all over my leg. You can squeeze it, if you want.” 

Experimentally, you do just that and the responding twitch of Wriothesley’s cock has your cunt repeatedly clamping down on nothing, a harried, deeply frazzled whine rising in you. It was like you were cumming, but not really. You felt close, though. As if just touching him like this, feeling the hot, pulsing need of him in the palm of your hand was stoking your own fire. Building your own pleasure up into something that was very nearly palpable. 

More confident this time, you give him another squeeze, and he makes a rumbling, needy sound in the back of his throat. Consumed with your own wanton need, you turn your head to look at him again and a distant thrill of surprise rushes through you when you find those deep sapphires watching you. Not your hand on him, but you. 

“Am I really making you feel good, your grace?” 

“Very much so.” 

Smiling, you lean up to press your mouth to his. He watches you do it, accepts your kiss, and a stilted puff of air rattles out of him to dance over your lips. You’ve never seen him hold himself quite so stiffly before but he starts to kiss you back just a heartbeat later, slowly at first and then with more demanding force behind the motion. Just like every other time he pulls you into his pace with ease, soon dominating the exchange while his hand continues to stroke yours over his trapped cock. It doesn’t take long for you to start feeling impatient like this, indescribably needy, and you wriggle yourself down on his leg in search of more friction. Wriothesley gladly obliges you, curling his leg up a little higher to press more firmly into your cunt to make you keen at the sensation. 

As you start to ride him again, the hand that had remained carefully on your back this entire time starts to drag lower, tracing the curve of your waist and further still to smooth over your reddened bottom. You suck in a sharp breath at the sting but it just seems to make your pussy clench and drool even more obscenely. Rearing back against his hand, you give his length another tight squeeze to pull a low groan out of him. 

“You are a real menace, pretty girl.” He softly chides you, pulling back just enough to look in your face. “For as prim and proper as you like to act, you’re certainly an insatiable little thing.”

You start to apologize for it, but then think better of it. “Do you like it, your grace?” 

“More than I’d like to admit.” 

Your breath catches at that and you lurch on top of him when a warning tremor tears through your shuddering body. “Will … will you bounce your leg against me?” 

“Of course.” Eyelids drooping to attractive halfmast, Wriothesley presses his forehead against yours and tenderly nudges at your nose. “Shall I spank you while I do it? Something tells me you’d like that an awful lot.” 

“Ooh … yes, your grace, please spank me.” 

Another rumbling groan rises in him, eyes drifting shut as if in great pleasure. You don’t get a chance to linger on how positively devastating he looks like that because he presses his thigh up into you, sending you lurching with a faltering, deeply wounded sound. The motion of his leg jostles you slightly, prompting you to clutch at him all the more fervently — one latched around his cock and the other clinging to his neck — and you toss your head back with a high pitched squeal when he suddenly swats your ass without warning. You waver, hesitate for only a blink of the eye, and then you’re driving your cunt down to meet him with fast mounting urgency. 

“Oohh, gods —“

Swat! Across the other cheek to make the meaty swell bounce. 

A deeply flustered sound punches its way out of your mouth, hips swiveling desperately. “Ahhn, ahh! Y - your grace! Nggnh!” 

Swat! The first cheek again, this time with a possessive squeeze afterward that makes your toes curl. 

“I’d say I could never get tired of watching you bounce that pretty pussy on my leg, but I’d hate to discourage you from wanting to try anything else.” 

Your tense fingers impulsively squeeze down on his cock, making his chest hitch, and you seethe through your teeth at the quickly cresting waves of ecstasy washing over you. You were close, so close. 

“Please —“ Swat! Swat! First one cheek and then the next, in rapid succession. “Ooh! God! I - I want it, your grace! I want it!” 

Swat!  

“What do you want, lovely girl?” Wriothesley grunts, his own voice faltering now. 

“I - I want this!” You give his length a desperate squeeze, so lightheaded and dizzy you barely even know what you’re saying anymore. 

Swat! 

“It’s already yours, sweetheart. Whenever you’re ready for it, you’ll have it.”

The thought alone of taking him deep inside your body makes every single muscle in your shuddering frame lock up, and you lurch to a sudden standstill on top of him. Your mouth drops open as if to scream but nothing comes out when he just keeps bouncing his leg on your drooling cunt, quicker now. A little harder. You sway unsteadily as your thighs begin to shake uncontrollably around him, chest heaving with the gasps you frantically try to suck in but you can’t quite seem to get enough air. It felt like you were smothering under the intense pressure, hanging right on the precipice. 

Swat! 

“Cum for me, cum all over my leg and let me see that pretty face you make.” He practically growls, grabbing a tight, pinching handful of your ass to really drive the sting home. 

It’s that sharp, toe curling throb of pain that tips you over, and you cum with a gutted lurch. Wheezing, you arch against him so hard your spine aches in protest but you can’t stop it. Your hips judder wildly and your knees nearly give out from how hard it slams into you all at once, but he clutches you tight in his arms while you spasm and writhe, squealing in mindless delight. It’s all you can do just to keep your voice down, painfully aware that the two of you were not in the privacy of your flat, but you manage, somehow, to get through it without shrieking at the top of your lungs. 

You’re so exhausted and drained by the time the tremors finally ebb and fade that you collapse on top of him with a deeply frazzled groan. Giving your bottom one final, lingering squeeze, Wriothesley drags his hand back up to rub across your back and a faint shudder ripples through you when you feel him bend close to place a brief kiss to the top of your head. 

It was … really nice, actually, sharing such a quiet, intimate moment with him. It wouldn’t be hard to get used to it. In fact, you dully realize, you kind of already were. 

“You’re such a good girl for me sometimes.” He murmurs into your hair, his voice warm with praise and affection alike. “It just makes me wonder why you can’t be so good all the time.” 

“That would get boring.” You dazedly slur, making him chuckle. 

“That’s true. There’s no fun in it without a little power struggle first.” 

You hum a noncommittal sound, already half dozed off where you’re spread out on top of him when a muted twitch under your loosely curled palm makes you jolt. Blearily lifting your head from his chest, you glance down to find him still rock hard in his pants and your brows quickly draw together in confusion. 

“You didn’t - -“

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll go away.”

“But - -“ 

“Hush. Just do as I say for once and let it go.” Reaching up to palm the back of your head, he forces your cheek back down to his chest and holds you there even when you weakly try to struggle out from under it. “You really aren’t making this easy on me, you know that? Saying all that nonsense and now this. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about, little miss. Not yet.” 

Your mouth pulls in a pout even though he can’t see it. “Will you teach me more later?” It’s little more than a mouse squeak when you were so tired, so exhausted after everything that had transpired today. 

Wriothesley seems to think on that for a moment before softly pressing another kiss to the crown of your head. “I’ll teach you everything in due time. You just need to be patient. I don’t want you to get so caught up in the moment that you rush into something only to regret it later. As I said before, I’m a guarddog. I'm not interested in biting the hand holding my leash.” 

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

You aren’t sure when, exactly, you fell asleep, but you wake up on the lounge some time later, finding yourself blinking up at the ceiling of his office in a bit of a daze. You’re a little disoriented at first and then you remember where you were. Everything that had happened. The meeting with the inmates. That horrible incident with George. The sound slap you’d given Wriothesley right across his stupid smug mouth. The way you’d crawled into his lap and … 

You bolt upright with a soul sucking gasp. Your instinctive panic is immediately interrupted, however, when you realize his coat is now pooled in your lap, and you blink down at it with owlish surprise. He’d given you his jacket while you slept? 

“Ah, you’re finally awake. I was wondering how long you’d be out for.” 

Startling, you twist around on the lounge to look over at the desk where you find Wriothesley reading over a small stack of paperwork in his hand while the other lifts a steaming cup of tea up to his mouth. You could smell it from where you were sitting, the rich aroma drawing you a little further out of your half asleep stupor and a bit more into reality. Archons, you felt like you were dying of thirst. 

“You wouldn't happen to have an extra cup for me, would you?” 

“Of course I do. Don’t be silly.” Setting his own back down after taking a sip, he sedately glances over at you from across the room. “I even grabbed some sandwiches and cookies for you from the cafeteria. I figured you’d be hungry when you woke up.” 

You immediately realize that that was an understatement. You weren’t just hungry, you were famished! 

But when you move to get up, pulling his coat off your lap, you abruptly come to a screeching halt. Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you stare down at your bare legs in abject disbelief. “Where are my pants?” 

“Don’t sound so alarmed. I put them somewhere safe.” 

“Well, I’d like to have them back!” You snap, shooting daggers over at him. 

Humming as if in thought, Wriothesley drops the paperwork on top of the desk and reclines back into his chair. “I don’t think so. Not just yet anyway. I’m not quite through with you yet.” 

A shudder races up your stiffening spine, and you nervously gather his heavy jacket close to your chest, clutching at it. “W - what does that mean? I thought you said you’d let me decide when I was ready?” 

He barks a quick laugh. “I don’t mean that. I’m talking about your punishment from earlier. We got a little sidetracked, didn’t we?” 

“Oh.” Heaving a long suffering sigh, you roll your eyes and move to stand up. Keeping his coat held to your front, you slowly shuffle over to the desk to stand in front of it. “Is that really necessary? I understand why you had to do it, even if I don’t agree with your methods.”

Idly tapping his finger on the sturdy wood, he just silently studies you for a long moment. “It’s not exactly about agreeing with me.” He says at length. “I’m still waiting on an apology, for starters.” 

You promptly shrink in on yourself. “You hit me all the time …” 

“No, what I do is spank your bratty little bottom to sort you out. I don’t hit you across the face, and I never would unless you asked me to.” 

“Why would I - -“

“Do not try to change the subject. I told you once before that I’m not so easily distracted, didn’t I?” 

He tips his head to one side as if to further drive his point home, and you feel your cheeks start to warm. “You’re like a dog with a bone.” 

“Ah, so you have been paying attention then. Good. I know firsthand just how smart you really are so I do expect you to start figuring things out, the more time we spend together. And I do hope that you’ll continue to share more with me.” 

You hesitate at the first inkling that something was not quite right here. He was talking about more than just the slap, wasn’t he? But what else could there be that he wanted to talk about? 

“I do enjoy spending time with his grace,” You say slowly, warily. “Even if he does make me feel uniquely harassed half of the time. And I’m sorry for hitting you. You’re right that there’s a difference between the two. I tried to hurt you out of anger, while you do it to —“ 

Wriothesley chuckles when you search for the word only to come up empty handed, the smile tugging at his mouth equally roguish and charming. “To correct you. I can’t deny that you can be a little frustrating sometimes, but I’m sure the same can be said of me. In fact, I know it can. But I don’t hit you in anger. Not when I’m nearly double your size and weight. To allow my self control to slip even slightly would be … reckless indeed, because I could seriously hurt you. I’m always careful to make sure I’m fully aware of what I’m doing and how hard I’m doing it before I ever put my hands on you, little miss. I hope you know that.” 

Your back straightens when it suddenly hits you. That’s what he was worried about? 

“Are you afraid I won’t want to see you anymore after the way you … broke George’s wrist earlier?” 

A long stretch of quiet settles over the office, perfectly still and perfectly quiet. 

“A little.” He says at last. “I couldn’t exactly blame you if that was the decision you came to, but I’d still be a bit — disappointed to lose you. A lot, actually. I enjoy our time together too.” 

You swallow. Hard. “Your grace, I … I won’t deny that you scared me earlier, but it’s not like it was the first time. You’ve made me nervous and frightened, and happy, and sad, and so incredibly confused I could just tear my own hair out sometimes, but — I was more frightened for George than myself, if I’m being honest. I was scared you were going to hurt him.” 

“And then I did.” He says simply, and you nod. 

“Yes. Frankly, I was horrified. That’s why I got so mad at you. I never thought you’d actually be capable of something like that, and I guess I didn’t really know how to react. But you’ve never made me feel like I was truly in danger. I’ve never worried about you breaking my arm, or snapping me in half even though I’m sure you easily could. I’m not scared of you, your grace. I just … I don’t want to see you hurt anyone else, least of all because of me.” 

He lets that settle for a drawn out beat, clearly turning everything over in his head, before decisively leaning forward to grab up the teapot sitting on a tray at the corner of the desk. “Well, I can’t exactly promise you that. Should the need ever arise again, I won’t hesitate to protect you. Especially if it’s one of my inmates trying to cause you harm. But with that being said,” He starts to pour out a second cup, also taken off the tray. Your eyes voraciously wander over to the little plate covered with a tin lid, knowing there were promised sandwiches and cookies hiding underneath, and your stomach churns in hunger. “I solemnly swear that from here on out I will do everything in my power to avoid it ever coming to that. If we can stop it from reaching that point then surely both of us will be satisfied. Does that sound like a reasonable compromise to you?” 

“Yes, your grace.” 

“Excellent. Then come sit on my lap and help yourself to some food and tea. I’m sure you’re starving.” 

For once you only feel slightly hesitant to heed his command without needing to be told twice, and you eagerly shuffle around the desk to join him. You’re able to hide the nudity of your lower half behind his coat which you keep tucked around your waist even as you get settled on his legs. It was a seat you were quickly (perhaps even embarrassingly so) getting used to, and the thick arm that snakes around your middle to secure you in place was likewise becoming something comfortably familiar as well. 

The first thing you reach for is the plate, stretching across the desk to pull it closer so you can peel away the lid and find out what’s inside. A handful of neatly sliced sandwiches of a few different varieties greets you, as well as a small pile of assorted biscuits. You don’t hesitate to snag one up and pop it into your mouth, humming in delight at the taste. Chuckling softly, Wriothesley gives you a brief squeeze around the middle as his other hand slides over to pick up the abandoned stack of papers again. 

“Are you aware just how adorable you can be at times?” 

Humming in agreement, you covetously go for a sandwich next. “His grace flatters me.”

“Brat.” Giving your tummy an affectionate pinch, he turns his attention to the papers. “Another question, if you would be kind enough to humor me. Are you aware that you’ve earned yourself a few fans here in the prison?” 

You freeze in place with the dainty little triangle lifted half of the way to your waiting mouth. “I beg your pardon?” 

“Belle, the woman at the meeting earlier, slipped this note into my mailbox some time ago. She apologizes for what happened with George, and she wishes you a speedy recovery with hopes that you’ll return soon to start your sewing classes. You’re welcome to read it for yourself if you’d like.” 

Slowly, you lower the sandwich and reach out for the paper. You’re more than a little surprised to find it says exactly what he’s relayed to you. “Wha — but I don’t understand?” Dropping the sandwich altogether now, you numbly flip to the next page only to find a second letter written in two different but equally terrible sets of handwriting. Those brothers. 

“Don’t pay them much mind.” He murmurs as you scan over the, frankly, perplexing note. “They’re trouble, but mostly harmless. I won’t go so far as to say they mean well, but …” 

Thoroughly perplexed, you flip to the final page. This one is rather neat and tidy, and relievingly concise, but you can’t quite place who it would have come from. All it says is that they hoped you wouldn’t be scared off by what happened, and that they looked forward to the program being a resounding success. It was of course very flattering but rather unexpected. A bit confounding, if you were being honest. 

“Who wrote this one?” 

“His name is Gaspard. You probably didn’t notice, but he was making puppy dog eyes at you the whole time.”

Flustered heat promptly crawls up your neck to settle deep in your cheeks. “Has anyone ever told you that your sense of humor leaves much to be desired, your grace?” 

“Oh, I’m actually being quite serious. I thought for sure if I was going to have to pry someone off you it was going to be him.” 

Another teasing pinch at your waist accompanies that and you sigh out through your nose, trying very hard not to let his foolishness distract you. “May I ask what he’s serving time for? This handwriting looks very well practiced, and his spelling is perfect.”

With a quiet hum, Wriothesley leans to the side to brace his chin in the palm of his hand. “He’s in for embezzlement.” 

“Embezzlement!” You squawk, beyond horrified. “B - b - but if it’s the man I’m thinking of, he was so polite and quiet! I thought he was just shy so I didn’t want to draw too much attention to him!” 

“Those are the ones you have to watch out for the most.” He laughs. “You’ll learn that in due time. The ones like George are mostly all bark and no bite, unless you back them into a corner. Gaspard’s type is way more dangerous because you can never be quite sure what they’re thinking.” 

More than just a bit ruffled, you defensively clutch the small stack of letters to your chest. “So then I suppose that would put you in the latter category?” 

“Hm … I suppose it would.” 

With a click of your tongue, you set the papers aside and primly return to your sandwich. “Regardless, I think it’s clear how we should proceed. We need to get a seamstress out to the prison as soon as possible for Belle, and I’m sure we can find a willing chef for those two troublemakers as well.” You pause with the little triangle almost up to your mouth again, hesitating a moment before slowly lowering it once more. “That is — if you’d still like to work with me going forward. I’m sure you probably have some reservations after what happened today, but I promise I’ll be more cautious next time and - -“ 

“Hush. I’m not going to take it away from you like a toy you’re not allowed to play with anymore. You’ll still have your little program and I’ll still work with you to help you implement it. You’ll just have to be a bit more closely supervised with it going forward.” 

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.” 

“So I’ve heard.” 

Wriothesley thankfully lets you eat in peace after that, and your stomach is quite glad for it. You happily scarf down two sandwiches and another cookie to go with your cup of tea, but you quickly begin to feel full. Eventually, you find yourself leaning back against his chest with your head resting along his shoulder, and you just quietly watch him work through a different stack of papers, this one much more formidable than your measly pile. You were going to cherish them forever though, even had half a mind to go out and have them framed immediately, but that seemed a little excessive, even for you. 

The intimate atmosphere and the close proximity with him almost has you dozing again, but the large hand idly rubbing over your tummy keeps you more or less grounded in reality, you sigh, very softly, when he eventually gives you an attention grabbing pinch some indeterminable amount of time later. 

“You’re not falling asleep on me again, are you?” 

“No, your grace. I am only resting.” 

“Good.” He says rather amicably, setting the sheet in his hand down. “Because there’s still the matter of your punishment to go over.” 

Groaning, you let your head loll back against his shoulder to look up at the ceiling. “You really never let anything go, do you?” 

“It would be remiss of me if I did. More importantly though, I wanted to show you something. Do you remember what I said earlier, about getting spanked with something much worse than a hairbrush?” 

You immediately lurch on top of him, skin crawling at just the thought as you try to jump up off his lap and escape, but Wriothesley just tightens his arm around you to keep you pinned even when you inelegantly flail. “Wait — that’s not fair, your grace, I — ow!” 

The hard slam of your knee against his desk has you whimpering in pain, and he quickly takes advantage of that stunned moment to haul you back and secure you more firmly in place. “That’s what you get for jumping to conclusions. Let that be a lesson to you.” Sighing, he presses his mouth to the top of your head in a lingering kiss while you try to shake out the hurt from your leg. “Troublesome girl.”

“I don’t want to hear that from you right now!” You snip, still rubbing at your bruised knee. “And what were you even talking about? I don’t think I deserve to be struck with a stick or a measuring rod, or — or - -“

“You don’t, you’re right about that. But I want to show you what comes after the hairbrush, if you’ll let me. I’d like to think having that knowledge in the back of your mind might give you enough incentive to make better decisions in the future, but given how hard headed you are … maybe it won’t.” 

Huffing, you petulantly cross your arms. “You only want to show me?” You didn’t trust it at all. Not one bit. 

“I planned to actually strike you with it, of course. Otherwise it would just be an empty threat and you’d have no baseline to gauge how far you’re willing to go just to throw a fit over something. But how about this? I’ll make you a deal. You like when I do that, don’t you?” 

You were loath to admit it out loud but you did indeed, and your pussy slowly clenches with interest. Damn him straight to the abyss and back. “I’m listening.” 

“Good girl. I figured you would be.” Another kiss pressed to the top of your head, his breath displacing some of the flyaways there. “You get to choose then. Would you like me to round off your punishment with my hand and twenty strokes of the hairbrush, or would you prefer to take six from the mystery implement?” 

Twisting around in his hold, you look up at him in abject shock. “Only six?” 

“Only six.” He confirms. 

“And you won’t tell me what it is first? Is it really that bad?”

“No, and no. It’s just a different kind of pain, is all. Something you aren’t used to. I strongly suspect if I told you beforehand, you’d be too frightened to take it on and would instead gladly subject your poor bottom to a much worse fate than it needs to suffer.” Drawing a stilted breath, Wriothesley slips one of his hands under the jacket to caress along your bare thigh, warming the skin under his palm. “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve already been appropriately corrected. There’s no need to actually take you over my knee unless you leave me with no other choice. The second option is preferable for both of us, first and foremost because I intend for it to be a warning more than anything. The choice is yours though, little miss. I am but at your beck and call.” 

You snort at that and pin him with a wry look. “Sure. I might believe that when pigs fly.” With a shake of your head, you turn back around so you can slump against him, listlessly picking at the fur trim on his jacket in your lap while you think it over. One was obviously the better sounding choice but … didn’t that mean it was a trap? 

Big, burly arms squeezing around you, Wriothesley bends close to kiss your temple, your cheek, down to your neck. They’re soft and fleeting, decidedly, chaste, and yet they still make your pulse start to thrum a little faster. You really were regrettably weak for him. It just wasn’t fair.  

“May I add an extra term onto our deal?” 

“Let’s hear it.” 

“If I choose the second option, will … will you play with me afterward?” 

He seems to hesitate against you, no doubt catching onto your meaning. “I was planning on doing that anyway. I always make sure you get rewarded at the end, don’t I?” A lingering kiss pressed into your temple. 

You were really starting to become hot and flustered again, and it shows in the way your voice strains slightly. “I don’t mean like that. I — I think I want you to touch me, your grace.” 

This time he really does go still. A long beat of quiet punctuates the moment, and then he shifts against you, speaking across the side of your face. “Where do you want me to touch you, pretty girl? Between your legs?” 

Just hearing him say it makes you shudder from your head straight down to your toes, and you fitfully twist on his lap so you can tip your head back to look at him. “Everywhere, sir. Between my legs and — my chest too. If you want.” 

“Of course I want to, silly thing.” Breathing out a rather terse exhale, he tips his head to kiss your mouth but it is regretfully short lived, and you whine softly when he retreats again. “I need you to clarify something for me first though, so I know exactly what it is you’re comfortable with. Do you want to get completely undressed for me or would you rather I touch you through your shirt?” 

“O - oh.” You hadn’t thought about it that far, and you shyly avert your gaze. Although you did want to feel his hands on your breasts, the thought of being completely nude with him was a daunting one indeed. It was silly, of course, but that seemed like something of a big step and a potentially awkward one at that. “I … I don’t know if I’m ready to get naked yet so — through my shirt?” 

“Through your shirt it is.” He agrees, pressing his mouth to your cheek in a hard, reassuring kiss. It makes you squirm, just a little bit, how willing he is to humor you in this way, but you think that it probably means more to you than you even fully realize. “You’re a good girl, you know that?” He murmurs against your skin. “I’m so proud of you for being honest with me. I know that’s not always easy for you to do.” 

“Enough already.” You huff in embarrassed fluster, making him chuckle. 

“Don’t start getting cranky. I don’t want to have to really spank you if I don’t have to.” Finally, he pulls all the way back to give you some space, patting your leg under the jacket. “Alright. Stand up and put your hands on the desk for me. We’ll do this standing up.” 

Suddenly confused, you hesitate just a moment before rocking forward with no shortage of hesitation. He didn’t often strike you while standing. Usually only when he was made to grab you to stop you from scuttling away and a chair or other wasn’t readily available … 

You try not to think about that too hard though as you find your feet with his coat somewhat awkwardly clutched to your front still. He reaches around to take it from you and you reluctantly let it go, shivering when it falls away to leave you bared from the waist down. Shuffling forward a step, you then reach out and slowly place your hands palm down on the desk while he stands up behind you, pushing the chair further back to allow for some space. 

Wriothesley presses up close behind you then, making a fresh shudder work down your spine as he leans over you to gently reposition your palms a little further apart. He reaches down to take your waist next so he can carefully bend you forward with your legs squared, nice and firmly rooted. You aren’t quite sure what to make of it all but his hands feel decidedly nice on you, and you just sigh very softly when he moves back. The following moment or two of rustling further leaves you stumped, especially when you catch a soft metallic click on the air, and you have to try very hard not to turn around and look. He seemed quite sure whatever it was would startle you a great deal but … 

When he eventually comes up beside you again, you turn your head to look at the hand he holds out towards you. Your brows make a prompt, very expeditious trip up to your hairline. 

“Wha — y - your belt, sir?” You warble out on a squeak, genuinely flabbergasted by this revelation. 

He chuckles faintly, snapping your wide eyed attention up at him so fast it nearly makes your head spin. “That look on your face is exactly why I didn’t tell you outright but it sounds worse than it actually is. At least the way I’m going to do it is.” 

“W - which would be?” You ask, nervously glancing at the folded over strip of leather with a great deal of fast mounting horror. 

“We’ll start off slow and work our way up in intensity, but even by the end I won’t be using too much force. My goal isn’t to actually hurt you, just teach you. See, the thing about this is it covers a wider area. I can strike you across both cheeks in one swing, and the relative flexibility of the leather means it carries a sharper sting with it as well. I don’t think it’ll take much to have you dancing on your toes, so I probably won’t even end up using a fraction of my strength when all is said and done. Does all of that sound agreeable to you, little miss?” 

You work to swallow down your nerves and almost choke on it. “I … I suppose so. But — if I really can’t take it, will you stop?” 

“Of course I will. I have no interest in brutalizing you or anything of the sort. That being said though I’m confident that you’ll do just fine. Who knows? You might even enjoy it.” 

A wholly mirthless laugh punches out of your throat. “I’m really not sure about that, your grace.” 

“Then let’s find out.” 

Transfixed, you follow the motion of the folded over belt when he lifts it in one hand and then slaps it down into the waiting palm of the other. You startle at the loud, meaty whap! and suddenly your blood turns to ice. You can feel yourself slipping under alarmingly fast, whatever the incomprehensible shroud was that blanketed your mind every time you ended up in these situations with him, but you had a feeling it wasn’t going to do much to shield you from the full brunt of it in this particular instance. 

Trying very hard not to shake when he steps behind you, you tip your face down to stare blankly down at the desk. The tension thrumming through your body is thick enough to suffocate and nauseatingly cloying. Just thinking about him hitting you with that was enough to make you sick … 

“Oh, and just a word of advice.” He tacks on, standing about a step behind you by the sound of it. “Try to breathe through it as much as you can. That will help more than anything else.” 

“… yes, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

His fingertips brush across your ass then, and you jolt so hard you almost come right up off the floor. Wriothesley just takes a moment to coo at you though, chiding you softly for being so jumpy, but it was a little hard not to be! You felt like you were going to vibrate right out of existence, and the heavy weight of nervous anticipation was not making it any better. You’re such a mess of nerves and sharp adrenaline that you barely even notice the way your skin prickles under his hand, still hot to the touch and tender from your earlier spanking, and you wince slightly as he rubs over your bottom. It seems like a cruel thing to do, getting you sensitized and warmed up for his belt like this. 

“I’m going to start.” He finally warns you as his hand retreats, and you immediately brace for the deafening crack and the splintering pain to go with it. 

To your flinching surprise, however, the belt just lightly swats across your bottom with a soft little pap! and you absolutely hate the way you still violently lurch, having expected much worse. Your cheeks immediately flood with heat as he laughs softly behind you at the big reaction. 

“I told you we’d work our way up. That’s one. Count for me, pretty girl.” 

You obediently open your mouth but you only make it so far as drawing a breath to respond when the belt slaps across your ass, a little harder this time. You notice the sting he’d mentioned immediately, as well as the insidious reach it has across the swell of both cheeks, but all it does is make you rock forward on your toes a bit. You’d never admit it out loud to him, but he was right. This wasn’t as bad as you’d thought it would be. 

And that was precisely why you didn’t trust it. 

“… two, sir.” 

“Good girl. Your bottom looks mighty cute like this, by the way. I think I could get used to seeing you bent over my desk.” 

You clench your teeth, half in annoyance and half to brace for the next hit. If they kept steadily increasing like that … 

Whap! 

This one subtly jerks you forward with the impact and you wheeze over the desk, trying and failing to process just how sharp the sting really is. It leaves you dizzy, a bit stunned in the aftermath as prickling fire welts up over the swell of your bottom. It has your toes curling in their shoes, skin crawling with needle pinpricks as you work to steady yourself. Okay, that was marginally worse than his hand but still not quite as bad as the hairbrush. 

“Ooh … three, sir …” 

“You’re doing very well so far. What do you think of it?” 

You weren’t entirely sure you were properly equipped to answer that question at the moment, but after a short beat of consideration you finally say, “I see what you meant. It’s a different kind of pain, but it’s not terrible.” 

“It could be.” 

You snort. “I bet it could.”

Wriothesley shifts behind you making you instinctively brace for the next hit, but it never comes. Instead, he speaks again after a drawn out pause. “Do you really trust me not to get carried with it, and to know your pain threshold better than you do?” 

That seemed like an odd question to ask after all this time, but you decide you can humor it as you readjust your feet with a quick shuffle. “I do, your grace. You push me sometimes but you’ve never actually crossed that line. Until you do, I trust you.” 

“That’s very generous of you.” He murmurs, a note of humor in his voice now. “Incidentally, I think you should know that I trust you as well. I suppose that makes us even.” 

A dull trickle of surprise washes over you, but before you can fully process what he’d said the next strike comes with a considerably louder crack and it startles an ‘oh!’ out of you. Rocking forward on your toes, seething, you gingerly shift your weight from one side to the other but it does absolutely nothing to dispel the throbbing strip across your backside. It really was insidious how it could catch the meatiest parts of your ass in a single blow, and you carefully try to stretch it out with a dramatic curve of your spine. 

“That’s quite a show you're putting on for me right now, pretty girl.” Wriothesley drawls in a low tone that sounds like silk in your pounding ears. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your top off? I’m already seeing quite a lot …” 

Whimpering faintly, you shyly squeeze your thighs together and straighten slightly. “Don’t be a pig …” 

“My apologies. It’s so easy to forget my manners when you’re presenting such a cute pussy to me like that. I’ll be sure to mind myself.” 

“Ooh … will you touch it, your grace?” 

“Yes. Gladly. But only after we’re done.” He says. Then, much more softly, “It will be a reward for the both of us.” 

You draw a steadying breath and force your constricting lungs to expand with it as you carefully resume the position he’d put you in, or something close to it. “Four, sir.” 

“Good girl.” 

This time you know the swing is coming because you can hear the displacement in the air, and it seems to catch you in a particularly vulnerable spot, because you dance up on your toes with a frazzled yelp. The sting of unshed tears in your eyes quickly joins the splintering sensation across your decidedly sore bottom, and you sniffle rather sadly at the hurt. You understood now why he’d set the count to six, and you were immensely glad for it. 

“F - five, sir …” 

Wriothesley’s hand abruptly finds your shuddering back and you jolt before stiffly relaxing into his touch. Gently, reassuringly, he drags that massive palm across you in slow, coaxing circles. “There, you’re almost done. I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the last stroke.” 

You can’t decide if that makes it better or worse, but you take a moment to collect yourself, just taking slow, deep breaths, just like he’d said to. It does help, a little bit, but the searing line across your ass is very hard to ignore. You were undoubtedly scared of what was coming and, yet, his steady presence at your side was a comforting one. You could do this. You knew you could. Not for him, but because of him. 

Gingerly easing your body out of its defensive hunch, you carefully move back into position again.  “I’m ready, sir.” 

Your first sign that this was going to be awful is the fact that Wriothesley keeps his hand braced against your middle back and just shifts to the side. Your second is the sharp sound of it cutting through the air. 

Whap! 

Pain explodes across your entire body unlike ever before. You lurch with a wounded, faltering animal sound, unable to even scream, it was that bad! Your knees instantly turn knobbly and you practically collapse with a strained, gasping sob, but he’s right there to catch you. So lost in the swimming daze of blind agony, you barely register him holding you around the waist to keep you upright and somewhat steady, but the soft press of his mouth against your shoulder somehow still manages to catch your attention. It pulls you back into the physical world, bit by bit, at a sluggish pace, and the sound of his crooning voice soon penetrates the numbing fog to mist over you. 

“— such a good girl, I’m so proud of you for taking that so well. You didn’t even scream, and I thought for sure you would on the last one. Do you have any idea how much strength that took? You’re such a precious thing.” 

Groaning dizzily, you slowly start to straighten up under his helpful guidance, and you don’t protest when he gently steers you back towards the chair with a hiccuping mewl. You’re glad for it, in fact. You just wanted to crawl into his lap and cling to him for the rest of the day. Night? You weren’t even sure what time it was. How long had you fallen asleep for? 

You feel well and truly delirious as he sits down and gets situated behind you before reaching back up to tug you into his lap, and you viciously seethe the moment your throbbing ass brushes his pants. Making a valiant effort to arch up off him and escape the pressure, you openly sob when he just pulls you right down. You writhe at the pain, twisting in his arms but then — you abruptly realize where his hands are headed. 

Choking on a stuttering gasp, you tip your tear stained face down with a confused little whimper to watch his palms drag up the front of your body, further rucking and irreparably wrinkling your jumper in the process. They smooth over the curve of your breasts and then pause to give them a savory squeeze, and you shudder intensely at the sensation. You’d never been touched like this before. Not by anyone, and it surprises you how sensitive your chest is under the weight of his hands. Your nipples immediately spring up even under your clothes, and you fitfully turn your head to rest across his shoulder with a half strangled wail. 

“These feel so good in my hands, pretty girl. Is this what you wanted me to do? Hm?” 

Screwing your eyes shut against the onslaught of so many sensations all at once — the pain and the pleasure so horribly intermingled that you could hardly tell them apart anymore — you offer a quick, jerky nod. “Mhm!” 

Wriothesley breathes out a terse sigh against the side of your head and nuzzles further into you while his hands keep fondling your breasts. “Good. They seem sensitive. There are a lot of fun things we could do with that information, you know. I have a few — toys you might be interested in later. Do you like having your pretty tits played with? You certainly look like you do …” 

Whining low in your throat, you shudderingly arch to shove your chest further out, and he takes advantage of that to squish them up and together. A deeply frazzled moan rattles out of you when he jostles them for a brief moment before letting them go so that they bounce back into place. He groans, very softly, as he quickly cups around the swell of them again, just holding them in his palms for a moment while he bends close to kiss you. 

You’re sinking alarmingly fast, much too fast to make any sense of it, and you clutch at his shirt in a fitful, twisting death grip. He doesn’t even seem to notice, just hungrily kissing you for a tortuously long stretch before eventually pulling back with a stilted exhale. Meaningfully, he sends his gaze lower and you follow his lead, slowly looking down at yourself just to find your tits straining up even through two shirts and a brassier. You issue a low, wounded sound, watching through the impossibly heavy fall of your lashes as he brings his hands up to delicately pluck at the stiffened buds. That alone is almost too much, both the sensation and the visual, but he really starts to tug on them. 

“You like that, do you?” He chuckles at all your sensitive quivering. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I’m more of an ass man myself, but these are nice too. Very nice, indeed. They fit so nicely in my hands, almost like they were made for them. And your nipples … oh, sweet girl, are you going to cum just from having me play with them?” 

That didn’t seem to be as much of a preposterous suggestion as you would have otherwise thought when you were currently wrestling with the thrumming tension that spikes through your body. You’d never felt quite so hot or overly sensitive, and you keen at the growing need threatening to swallow you whole. 

Evidently catching on, Wriothesley drags one of his hands down across your front, over your belly and straight down to dip between your trembling thighs. You feel him experimentally touch over your slit for a brief moment, familiarizing himself with it, before pressing his fingers into meaty lips to spread them. You rock violently in his hold and instinctively curl your legs out wide even when they weakly twitch in the air, keeping them spread for him. You’re not sure what you were expecting in your punch drunk state of mind, but it shocks a flustered yelp out of you when he slips in to tease over your clit. It has you twitching, twisting and writhing against him for everything you’re worth. The calloused pad on the tip seems to catch at soft flesh even with the excessive slick coating you and he tauntingly nudges at the delicate little pleasure button, just drawing it back and forth, up and down for a moment, before starting to press down more firmly. You promptly go cross eyed, lurching in his lap with a gutted moan. 

The direct contact felt so good … so good you could hardly even stand it, and it brings fresh tears to your eyes. You liked rubbing yourself on his thighs. Thought you’d liked that the most and that you couldn’t like anything else better — but this was overwhelming your already cotton stuffed head alarmingly quick, and the way he continues to pluck at one of your nipples did not seem to be helping you in the slightest. You were going to vibrate right off him if he kept that up! 

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!” 

“Do you enjoy that, little miss? Hm?” He nuzzles against the side of your head, pressing idle kisses to your temple again. 

“Ahhnn … yes! I do, your grace! I - I feel like I’m gonna’ — oohh!”

With a soft chuckle that makes his chest vibrate against your back, Wriothesley reaches across to the other breast to give it a savory, pinching knead. Fitful and needy, you impulsively reach down with trembling hands to grab the hem of your jumper so you can yank it up to bunch under your chin. He obliges you by grabbing at your tit again, through just the thin layer of your blouse now, and you somehow manage to shake even harder when he digs his fingers in to tug at the brassier underneath. It’s hard to do indirectly like this and he jostles you slightly with the effort, but you still feel the exact moment your stiff teat slips out of the top of the cup and you just shake even harder. 

“I bet you do. Such a sensitive little girl you are …” Pulling in a carefully tempered breath, he abandons that tit much to your blubbering disappointment and reaches over to do the same to the other. Pinching through fabric to grab at the lacy material underneath and nudge it down enough to leave both nipples cutting up directly into the fabric of your shirt. You writhe on top of him with a back bowing shudder and blindly grab at him, his arms, his shirt, the now rumpled collar of his button up, whining a low plea. “Hush. I’ve got you. Bring your hands up for me and wrap them around my neck. Think you can do that for me?” 

Offering a stilted nod, you do as he’d asked without question or even much thought to the matter. Later you might wonder why you’re so obedient and pliable with him like this, but in the heat of the moment you find nothing but pleasure, and deep satisfaction at the rumbling noise of approval he gives you when your arms stretch up to curl over his shoulders in a loose hold. The position proves a bit awkward when you can’t get a very good grip on him, but the reason for it quickly makes itself known. Your tits lift under your shirt with the upward motion to jut further out, and his blocky hand quickly descends upon one, pinching the tightly coiled teat to leave you moaning in equal parts distress and delight. 

“Ooh, isn’t that a lovely sound? You really are going to be the death of me … let me show you something nice now. You’ll like it, I promise.” 

The blocky fingers on your clit slowly retreat and you hiss at the loss only to choke on it a heartbeat later when he firmly presses them over your slit. He gives them a sedate rub and your pelvis involuntarily jumps, pressing up into them with a juddering twitch, eager for more. Desperate for it. 

“There, now move with me, pretty girl. Just like you do when you’re grinding this sweet pussy on my leg … that’s it, move your hips. Back and forth. Just follow the motion of my hand — see, you’ve got it. Keep going and don’t stop until you’re shaking for me.”

You suck in a thick, heavy gasp as you bring your swimming attention back down to look at the way you’re spread open on top of him. The wide stretch of your legs is shameful and a little embarrassing even now, but your cunt looks so small and dainty rubbing against his big hand while your thighs quack around it and you can’t quite bring yourself to care about it right now. Wheezing, you rock your pelvis up to follow the friction of his rough fingers before swiveling back and — you outright choke when your sore ass grinds down on him in the process. The faintly raised welts seem to crawl and sting with renewed fervor at the brush of his pants, the hard press of his cock digging up into you in search of the hot, wet warmth between your legs. Your pussy squeezes wildly at the sharp pain, drools yet more sticky slick to coat you in an obscene amount of liquid arousal, and you quickly do it again. Up against the firm pressure of his hand and then back again to rub your sore bottom on him. 

It doesn’t take long for you to start quaking in earnest like this and you cling to him desperately as the tension in your body rapidly swells, threatening to bowl you right over if you weren’t careful. But as always Wriothesley’s hold on you is absolute, and you’re free to shake and twist as wildly as you want without having to worry about falling. The hand on your chest alternates between your breasts, squeezing, pinching, tugging at your nipples, each in turn, to leave them feeling raw and sensitized through your shirt while the other keeps guiding your pelvis through the stuttering motion. Maintaining it becomes more difficult with the steady locking of your muscles as warning tremors wrack through you, but he remains an ever steady presence around you and it’s so easy to get lost and swept up in his pace. 

Your cunt tilts up against his hand and then your ass nudges back to make dull throbs of pain erupt across your bottom. 

Up against his hand with a sticky glide that does absolutely nothing to stop his rough skin from dragging against petal soft folds, then back to feel the weight of him digging into sore flesh that burns at the friction against his slacks. 

Up against his hand, back against his cock. 

His hand, his cock. 

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock. 

The coil snaps. Just like that. 

Throwing your head back against his shoulder, you wail through your soul shattering release as quietly as you can manage. You seethe, you hiss, you groan, low and faltering. You squeal and you wheeze, bucking uncontrollably with a frantic desperation that he takes in stride. His hold on you doesn’t falter, and he neither grunts or flinches even when you spasm on top of him without heed. He’s like a solid wall underneath you, and he pets you through it all until you finally, at last, start to come down from it some moments later one jagged piece of you at a time. 

Going boneless with a haggard noise of deep sated pleasure, you just lay there for a long while and let him caress over you to leave pleasantly warm tingles in the wake of his hands. It’s comfortable like that, there with him. Sitting in the stillness of his office in the buzzing afterglow of release, simply listening to each other's heartbeats for a long time. He was right to say this was something he could get used to, because you could too. 

And strangely enough that thought doesn’t frighten you half as much as it probably would have at one time. 

“You’re a very good girl for me, you know that?” Wriothesley says at last, finally interrupting the quiet. 

Snuggling deeper into his body with a content little sigh, you tip your head back to look up at him from just a scant few millimeters away. “You’re very good to me as well, you’re grace. T - … thank you for that.” 

A slow smile tugs at his mouth to accompany the almost wry quirk of his brow. “Oh, am I now? Well, you’re very welcome, of course, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t half expect a different sentiment.”

You frown at that, unable to stop it. “You are easily the most frustrating, blockheaded man I have ever met, and I won’t deny that, but you — you’re kind to me, aren’t you? In your own strange way.” 

“I try to be.” He relents, his gaze drifting lower to fix upon your mouth. You can tell he’s thinking about kissing you again by the way his eyelids droop to attractive halfmast, but you reach up to cup the strong ridge of his jaw before he can follow through on it. 

“Can I … be kind to you as well, sir?” You give your butt a pointed little wiggle down onto the hard length straining under you, and his brows draw together as if in great discomfort. 

“As much as I would like that,” He intones rather thinly. “And for as much as I am tempted, I would rather teach you about that somewhere a bit more appropriate than in my office. At your home. In the comfort of your own bed, if you would permit it, sounds ideal to me.” 

You hesitate to respond just a moment too long, still a little overwhelmed at the thought of sharing your bed with him despite the eager thrum you feel at the suggestion, and he takes the chance to gather you against him in a tight squeeze. 

“There isn’t any rush, sweet girl. Whenever you’re ready, you will have me. I just want to ensure you receive the care and attention you deserve first and foremost, and I also want you to feel safe. Your bedroom will represent that final boundary and when you’re prepared to invite me into your life like that, that is when I will take you. That sounds fair enough, doesn’t it?” 

You want to tell him you are ready, that you want him now, you’re sure of it. Your body and mind alike both seem to crave the intimacy of skin on skin contact with him, while your heart … 

Oh, you simply couldn’t think about that right now. 

“Yes, your grace.” You murmur instead of any number of other things you could have said to him, wanted to say to him. Needed to say. “That sounds fair.” 

“Good.” Wriothesley gives you a reassuring pinch to make you squirm slightly in his arms. “Then I think with that settled it’s about time you and I considered making things somewhat official. Do you think you can stand to be seen with me in public in a non professional capacity for an hour or two?”

Going still against him, you frantically try to parse what he’s asking, what he’s getting at. Make it official? “What do you mean, my lord? I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” 

“I’d like to take you out to dinner, little miss. On a date.” 

Your face instantly lights up like a firework. A date? With the Duke of Meropide himself? 

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint. 

“I … I think I’d like that, your grace. Thank you.” 

“Wonderful. Then that is what we will do.”

⭐

Crossposted: here

[bleucalire]

Hello!!! I literally adore your art style! The way you manage to add depth and perspective to your faces without heavy use of facial planes is really impressive because my art looks similar to yours, (but without the depth) but every time I try to use facial planes it just doesn't work with my style. Do you have any art tutorials or pics with guidelines?? and if not would you ever consider making any?

once again LOVE your art your azi and crowley are just ADORABLE!!

thanks!!

Hi !! Thank you for your kind message !!

I’m afraid I don’t have any strict process that i could explain..? Except A LOT of training ? 😭 I can share how I like to train though ! (it’s often warm-ups before starting working)

- Posemaniacs !!!

20min of 45sec-1min poses every morning is a super cool warm-up, and it forces you to be quick and go to the point ! No unnecessary lines ! (Posting my sketches because i often see people who starts using it trying to do super detailed pics, with a lot of lines, and can’t finish their sketches before the time limit. Loose sketches are fine, you want to get the pose, the perspective, the overall volume, not to create a masterpiece. Posemaniacs is super rad because it helps you learn how to draw any pose from any angle. Also they have a bank of hundreds of 3D models with various poses you can move and turn how you like in a 3D space when you want a reference for when you’re drawing !)

- Do studies from animators/series you like !

Sakugabooru is a mine of references for that ! (i do both movement studies and still of frames i find super cool/instructive) Animators try hard to convey the depth/volumes, even on simple designs, so that’s good references (and yes i’m a kameda simp)

- Pictures of real people !/Real people from real life !!

For studying poses, clothes etc ! (Super rough and not detailed sketches like these ↓ help me a lot ! Sports references are cool ! Try to stay concise, not too many details ! It will leave you more time to do even more studies, and it forces you to find the essential points and lines of what you want to draw !)

- Michel Lauricella’s Books !!!

Suuuuper useful !! Also always checking them at work ! (My books are at work so sending my studies as well 🙈)

As for the style, most of the series i work on have a « simple style » (i like it when there’s not too many lines because it’s easier and funnier to animate). So i’m used to it and it’s reflecting on my Azi and Crowley i think ! If you like my style i can recommend you to do studies from Ousama Ranking, Mob Pyscho, Sherlock Hound, Doraemon, The Gutsy Frog, (and many more haha) (also of course 80’s-90’s Aoyama Gosho’s works ! Magic Kaito, Late Yaiba/Early Detective Conan ! The expressions I draw are heaaaavily influenced by it, as it’s the first thing I actively studied)

I hope it gives you ideas to dig when you want to train a bit !

Thank you again for your kind message ! Have a nice day !!

[die-pink-maus]

A Weekend in Vienna 🇦🇹

While vacationing in Germany, Chantelle’s (OC) best friend, Adrian (also an OC), books an impromptu trip to Vienna to visit extended family. Chantelle decides to join her for the last few days of her trip, where she meets an interesting friend of Adrian’s family who offers to show the two around the city for the weekend🤭

TW: Pretty much none, not for this chapter anyway, but things will get 🌶️spicy🌶️ in the next parts. Also there is an age gap between OC and König, she is 25 and he is about 36-37.

CW: FemOCs, female pronouns used, while both characters are technically OCs please feel free to imagine them however you’d like, ultimately the main character is the reader, I just didn’t want to use “Y/N” so I gave them names 🙈

Word Count: 1,516

*DISCLAIMER*

This is my first time EVER writing any kind of fan fiction so please go easy on me 😭 if you like where things are going, likes and reblogs would be greatly appreciated! If you’d like to see anything in particular in the next part or part(s), I’d love to hear it!

This version of König is based on the above interpretation drawn by @lettaniko (I hope you don’t mind me using it! I absolutely love this drawing it’s perfect! 🫶🏼)

I like a nice build up to the smut so if you like to get right into it this is probably not going to be for you…but if you can wait I it out I promise it’ll be worth it 😂

Enjoy! 💋

7:30am. There’s approximately 30 minutes before my train departs for Vienna, and I still haven’t reached the train station yet. I scrambled as I dashed out of my hotel room, hoping I’d left the place in a somewhat decent state and I hadn’t forgotten anything valuable as got into the elevator. I’ve been exploring Munich for the past two weeks and I’ve been having the absolute time of my life. Although traveling alone can be quite scary, oddly enough, I’ve never felt more at home. Munich is such a vibrant city, filled with all kinds of exciting things to do and I’ve met so many incredible people, it’s definitely been the experience of a lifetime. To say that I am not looking forward to going back home to Vancouver would be an understatement, but all good things must come to an end. I’d spent about a year and a half learning to speak German, and promised myself that I would plan a trip in celebration of achieving fluency, so here I am! Now, Vienna wasn’t initially on my list of places to visit when I decided to come to Germany, but my best friend, Adrian, ended up booking a spur of the moment flight last week to visit extended family in Austria and suggested I come hangout with her during the last few days of my trip. Seeing as its only a 3-4hr train ride from Munich, I figured why the hell not! I’ve heard Vienna is beautiful, and Im at all not opposed to exploring another city.

Upon arrival at the train station in Vienna I was greeted by Arian, excitedly jumping up and down while holding up a large white sign that read “Willkommen in Wien, Schlampe!” I rolled my eyes and shook my head, laughing as I got off the train and ran over to her, tackling her in a tight embrace as she laughed hysterically. “Did you have to let the whole station know that I’m a bitch or…?”

“Honestly, they should’ve known the moment they saw you.” She said jokingly. “How was the ride over?” She asked.

“Amazing, I haven’t slept that well in years. It also didn’t feel like a 4 hour train ride.”

“Trains in out here are quite quick so I wouldn’t be surprised if it somehow took less time. They definitely shit on the ones we have back home.”

“Oh for sure.” I agreed as we began walking over to the car.

“So a family friend of ours just came back from a mission in the states, he’s in the military bee tee dubs —“

“Yeah kinda pieced that together when you said ‘mission’.” I chuckled.

“I don’t drive out here so he’s gonna give us a ride back to my aunts, cool?”

“Sounds good.”

“He’s also a lot more familiar with Vienna than I am, so he offered to show us around a bit later on this evening.” Aw how nice of him. Knowing Adrian, the first place she’ll want to be taken to is the nearest bar, that girl can drink! If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my time in Germany, and my 10 years of friendship with Adrian, it’s that Europeans love their liquor. There are people from all parts of Europe in Germany and that’s one thing that remains quite consistent across the board. I also love my liquor, which is probably why I ended up fitting in so well.

We finally arrived at the car and opened the trunk to begin loading all of my luggage inside. I’d brought a small carryon suitcase, a duffle bag, as well as a large suitcase that was full of clothes I’d over packed from home, and a bunch of other clothes and souvenirs I’d bought in Munich. “Okay this one’s gonna be a tad heavy.” I warned as Adrian grabbed hold of the handle on the top. I reached forward to try to help her lift, but neither of us could manage the weight. “I got it.” His voice was low, but gentle. He had an accent, but it wasn’t overwhelming or harsh, nor did it make anything he said hard to understand. I wasn’t expecting to see the person I saw when I’d finally caught a glimpse of him…I don’t think I’ve ever seen a man like this in my entire life. Adrian and I stepped back as he grabbed hold of the suitcase, lifting it with absolute ease, as if it were light as a feather. His arm muscles bulged within the confines of his olive green long sleeved shirt as he tossed the suitcase inside the trunk. My heart began to race, It felt as if I was watching him move in slow motion. “Easy peasy.” He smirked as he turned around and looked down at me, his dazzling dark blue eyes awash with amusement at Adrian and I’s prior struggle. Jesus Christ…This man is an absolute unit. He’s gotta be at least 6 foot 7, if not taller. He’s incredibly easy on the eyes in a rough and rugged kinda way — a nice low trimmed beard, medium length dark brown hair, and a smile that is captivatingly dangerous to say the least. His presence alone exudes a confidence that causes me to grow weak in the knees. “I’m König,” he smiled knowingly as he stretched his hand out towards me. I know I’m definitely not the first woman to look at him the way I am. Even though I’m trying to keep my composure, it’s very clear that he can see right through it. “And you must be Chantelle?” He asked, eyes slowly roaming about my frame from head to toe. He bites his lip slightly as they return to my gaze, suggesting so much without saying any words at all. “I — yes.” I blushed, sheepishly brushing my hair behind my ear as I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you.” He said. “Oh yeah, König Chantelle, Chantelle König.” Adrian yelled from the backseat. He laughed and shook his head as he closed the trunk.

We arrived at Adrian’s aunts house about 45 minutes later. König helped us load all of my things into the foyer before letting us know he’d be coming back in a few hours to take us out to this bar that he and a few of his buddies on his task force frequent whenever they’re home. I’ve been thinking about him ever since he left — those mysterious blue eyes, the way he slightly bites his lower lip just before laughing at something ridiculous Adrian has said, the way his arm muscles swell beneath his shirt with the slightest movement…God, he’s sexy. I could think of a million different ways I’d want him to ruin me. The thought alone of being trapped beneath his large brawny frame writhing in pleasure as he thrusts into me over and over has me clenching around nothing. Though I’m not usually one for a one time fling, I have a feeling he’d be able to convince me. “So, you wanna tell me what all of that was about?” Adrian asked as she helped me settle into the guest room. “What are you talking about?” I asked. “Since when are you a shy girl?” She giggled. Sigh. I figured she was referencing my unusual silence during the car ride over here. “He’s hot as fuck but I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“Ugh!” I groaned as I covered my face with a pillow. She’s right. I’m not very easily intimidated. I’m quite the confident woman and I ensure everyone in the room knows it, but this was different. Almost as if our energies were fighting for dominance, and mine didn’t stand a chance. “Hey if it’s any consolation, my jaw dropped the first time I saw him without his mask too.” Mask?

“Mask?” I asked.

“Yes…the last time I was here he was on base training recruits, so I’d see him often in full tactical gear. He’s a snipper, so he wears a mask to hide his face in the field. I mean, that was hot too, but in a Ghostface kinda way”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the comparison, but I was curious to see what his entire ensemble looked like. “How old is he?” I asked.

“I think he’s in his mid to late 30s? I’m honestly not too sure, and it doesn’t matter to me either way.” She winked. “I was sensing some unspoken vibes between the two of you in the car though. Don’t think I didn’t see both of you stealing glances at each other every now and then.” She smirked.

“Stop,” I scoffed. “A man like that is definitely not single, and even if he is…I don’t know” I blushed. “I didn’t see him looking at me..”

“K well I see everything, he definitely likes what he sees, and clearly the feeling is mutual on your end as well. Looks like tonight will be interesting.”

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Adrian.” I laughed as I rolled my eyes. Nothing’s gonna happen…right?

PART II 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART II

PART III 👉🏽 A Weekend In Vienna 🇦🇹: PART III

[mrghostrat]

yall went so hard on my kofi, and have continued being so so supportive of my fics and art, my “easy food” fund just dipped below 3 digits for the first time since i posted about it in april 🥺 thank you all so fucking much

a life update:

meds are back in stock, and i’ve gotten into a much better mindset for motivation and general work flow. i’m leaving the house more to work at the local library or eat my breakfast at my fave nearby cafe. the easy meal fund has lifted a massive burden and eating has been so much more consistent.

meals and cooking are still hard; i can’t remember the last time i cooked, thanks to zita taking charge, but she’s falling under a lot of work stress at the moment too, so we’ve been ordering out more. it’s worked out pretty financially even to order uber eats more often, which gives us full rich meals and leftovers for the next day, instead of buying tons of groceries we just end up throwing out.

i’m also looking for a 9-5 job, which you might’ve seen me mention. i’m applying for every admin/assistant/reception job i can find, because i just want to get out of the house and into a Work Culture and do something steady and helpful all day. i wanna come home and have no thoughts of work, and draw/create only for fun. i left my commission queue on hold to start with, but now i’m in the flow of it, i’m starting to take one or two a week again, since i’ve nearly emptied my savings.

thank you again for all the care and support, even yall who can’t donate but leave hugs and nice words in the replies. it’s very sweet to feel so protected from all over the globe 🙈

[qodlysinz]

Wild Goose Chase

—The Day of the Jackal—

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Reader

Summary: The Jackal has competition for best underground sniper. He doesn’t care at first, but then you start stealing his clientele, and he grows competitive. The stakes grow higher with each passing assassination and you find yourself enthralled by what the Jackal was capable of.

Word Count: 1,173

Tags: second person pov, no gender specific pronouns are used, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, fighting, swearing, reader's nationality isn't mentioned, reader is a sniper and is pretty much self-taught, reader goes by The Reaper

A/N: Oh em gee I am back with another Jackal story 🙈🙈 since a lot of people liked my other one, I’ll write another because this guy is so difficult to write and I want to broaden my horizons. Reader and Jackal don’t technically interact but I might do a part 2 if it’s requested :)

You didn’t care about the bodies you dropped. You had a job, and you followed through. It was nothing personal, it hardly ever was. You never killed for yourself, it’d draw attention. You weren’t stupid enough for that.

After four years on the job, you’d made quite a name for yourself. However, in those four years, you never hit the same city twice. It was somewhat stifling—turning down good jobs with good money just because of where they were located, but you valued your freedom more than a cool million dollar hit.

Once you hit the one year mark, where, apparently, you made your presence a bit known, you earned the moniker ‘The Reaper’.

Somehow, you managed to never be suspected. You supposed a few years in theater and drama school paid off quite well.

Currently, you were leaving the scene of the crime; some quaint city in Boston. You were walking down the street when your head turned to a store, an array of TVs playing the news. The red band stretched across the screen read: GERMAN POLITICIAN, MANFRED FEST ASSASSINATED THIS MORNING.

“This sniper managed to shoot 3,815 meters, that’s 12,516 feet or 2.37 miles for those who are not familiar with the metric system. Authorities are calling this shooter The Jackal.” The news reporter stated, her hands folded over one another as she spoke. “Unfortunately, no one had gotten a good look at the shooter, authorities are doing their best as we speak.” Her co-anchor added in.

You stared in disbelief—3,815 meters was almost impossible. Not literally impossible, but damn near impressive. You’d heard of The Jackal during your time as a… mercenary… but you weren’t all that interested in what he did. There were probably thousands just like him. But 3,815 meters was something to gawk at.

“This damn world…” croaked an old man beside you. You quirked a brow, “I’m sorry?” You asked, letting out an awkward laugh. The man turned to you and spoke with a straight face; “these people, killing the ones who actually give a damn about us. Don’t they care about the youth of our nation?” He sighed and shook his head.

You deadpanned, blinking. “Right…” you, begrudgingly, agreed. “This damn world.” You smiled weakly at him and walked away. “This damn world for letting selfish, ignorant asses like you do anything you fucking want as long as you’re white and a man.” You muttered under your breath, not even audible to the man that was most likely hard of hearing. He looked older than your oldest grandparent, and that was saying something.

Though, the Jackal was probably both white and a man. But that wasn’t important.

What was, was that no one was talking about you dropping another fascist in Boston. The whole reason you were even in town. You bit into your cheek with a grimace. You weren’t usually all that competitive, but now you were. A guy who goes by Jackal is suddenly taking all the credit? Who even goes by that ridiculous moniker as an assassin? It’s fucking shameful. If you’re gonna be a killer, at least have class.

Jackal. The goddamn Jackal out-bested you. Some jackass (pun intended) named after something that couldn’t decide whether or not it wanted to be a coyote or a wolf.

God. Now you pissed yourself off.

You decided to do some research when you got back to your hotel, looking up some of the best snipers who could have made that shot (maybe if you were lucky, you’d gun him down and be on top). But, of course, as a hitman, he was excruciatingly hard to come across.

By this point, you were headed to Europe for yet another job. Given your research, a lot of the Jackal’s work originated from Europe, so you might as well head into his playground, ruffle his feathers (or, fur?), and maybe have a good rival to compete with. That’d be fun. Or maybe you were just a wee bit unhinged and eager to one-up this guy.

But then. That was when it happened. Tallinn, Estonia.

An attempted hit was made on Ulle Dag Charles, but was compromised the moment one of Charles’ own men ruined it. Since it wasn’t a done job, The Jackal was definitely in town somewhere.

Ironically, your target was a woman named Bianca Pullman. Apparently, your guy, stupid fucking Jackal, had this British agent on his ass since Munich. Some place in New York hired you to kill her so his job would be easier.

She, of course, followed him to Estonia, and you followed her. A game of cat and mouse. If the mouse was a highly dangerous being capable of killing anyone and everyone with a single bullet from miles away. This only made the game more exhilarating to you, if you were honest.

Yet, as the days pass, Pullman gained more and more security until she just.. stopped following the Jackal altogether.

That is what you’d say if you were a gullible idiot.

You called in a few favors (few… hundred… favors) and did detective work; allowing you to find out the Jackal’s real name. Maybe if this whole hitman thing doesn’t work out, you’d have another option.

Alexander Duggan, a member of the British army. He was believed to have died on the field, but come on. You weren’t stupid. You had an uncle who faked his death to evade his taxes—this guy probably did something similar to brush his identity off the earth. Because who in their right mind would accuse a dead man of terrorism? What would they do? Lock up his gravestone? Coffin, maybe? Hell, Duggan was believed to have been blown up. Army guys are normally smart, and he probably planned ahead and staged it if he was smart enough to be in the game as long as he’d been.

Duggan was a man of many names—many lives. It would be difficult to track him down from here. From this point on, you weren’t even sure why you were so enamored by his skillset. Like, sure, two miles to shoot some dick in the head is impressive, but seriously? Tracking him across all of Europe? It wasn’t like you were trying to put him to justice like Pullman. Maybe it was just the mystery behind it all? You did love a good mystery novel…

Irrelevant. He was just an amazing sniper and you felt… threatened. That’s exactly it. He was too good, and it threatened your own abilities, so, like one does, you needed to hunt him down, kill him, and take the mantle of Most Badass Hitman.

Then, curveball, you got your hands on the facial composite drawing of the Jackal.

And… for fuck’s sake.

You fucking knew him.

You’ve seen him around before.

Sure, it also kind of resembled a 1980s gremlin… oddly enough… but no doubt, you’ve seen someone who looked like this before.

“Charles Calthrop.” You whispered.

[honeytrap26]

Vacation Time

Satoru Gojo x Reader

pic credit to: Tako4evesamll

summary: continuation of the first part of this story. You and Satoru have some fun time while at the hotel and hot springs and meet up with some friends. cw: MDNI! Even more smut, like a lot. fem!reader, creampies, more dirty dirty talk, reader still has mommy milkers,lactation, Gojo absolutely has a daddy kink, and loves your boobs and ass, mentions sucking milk out of thy breasts sooo beware. aunote: Thank you to all the readers who requested for the second part and also thank you for supporting this story! I love you all!! Enjoy and happy reading! 🐼🖤 wc: 3k+ (I tried my best, 🙈) Here is part 1 if you haven’t read it yet.

You finally arrive to the hotel and hot springs. You’ve been here for a couple of days now, exploring and walking around the town nearby, going to the family owned restaurants, and just enjoying your time with Gojo. 

Gojo on the other hand couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You looked so gorgeous in a bathing suit,a towel, and a birthday suit. 

“ You’re so hot.” Gojo sits on the edge of the bed admiring your body, he tugs at his tie making it looser.

“I’m naked.” you try to cover your body with your hands feeling self conscious now.

“No baby, don't cover yourself.” Gojo reaches out, pulling you in between his lap. His fingers touch your neck moving your hair out of the way, he leaves soft kisses on your neck.

“Baby…” he mumbles, his hands make its way around your waist and settling between your legs. “Wanna make you feel good” he mumbles again, he bites your neck just hard enough to make you elicit a quiet moan.

“We can't, we’re meeting up with Shoko and Suguru for dinner.” you try to walk away but he pulls you back in.

“He can wait.” -his kisses are trailing down your shoulders, his free hand cups your breast- 

 “ He'll understand.” Gojo draws circles on your bare skin making you shiver. 

“Someones getting goosebumps.” you can feel his smirk against your skin.

“We can't.” you bite your lower lip, closing your eyes you tilt your head to the side, melting into him.

Gojo lets out a low breathy laugh, knowing that he’s already convinced you.

“Shhh I wanna take care of ya.” he spreads your legs open so they're resting on either side of his legs. A few of his fingers brush your folds, making you gasp in response,

 “Someone's already wet for me.”

“ S-satoru...-”

“Just relax.” He sits back in the bed, making your body more accessible to him. His fingers are still teasing you, he licks up your neck to your ear whispering, “Can I?”

“Please” you exhale, he slips a finger into you, sliding it in and out slowly, Gojo loves to feel how you squeeze his finger as he stretches you slightly.

“Should I let my beautiful wife cum?” he says, he swirls his finger inside of you finding your sweet spot, making you inhale sharply, your hands reaching out to grab his forearms to steady yourself. He slips in another finger this time making a “come hither” motion hitting that sweet spot again. Your breathing gets faster as you feel yourself tightening around his fingers, your legs tense up as you ride out your orgasm. Waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your breathing slows down as you catch your breath, but he doesn’t stop there.

“Lay down” he slaps your ass as he helps you get off of him and lay down on the bed. He crawls between your legs, resting them on his broad muscular shoulders. He kisses down your thighs to your clit before he gives it a gentle lick.

“Sensitive Toru” you whimper, grabbing a fistful of his hair. 

His hands reach up and massage your breasts, pinching and rolling your nipple in his fingers. He’s licking up and down your wet folds now. His face is buried between your legs, his tongue abusing your clit. Your legs start to close around his head but his big hands hold them open, your tugging at his with every lick.

Suddenly his phone rings. 

“Shit, we're late.” You moan, looking down at Gojo but he waves it off without breaking contact with your clit, his tongue flickering against your sensitive bud.

His phone stops ringing only for it to ring again a second later. 

“T-toru!” You close your legs around his head trying to push his head away. 

“Okay okay.” He stops and pulls his phone from his dress pants throwing it on the bed beside you, he puts it on speaker, 

“Hey Suguru '' Gojo says lazily, mildly annoyed that his best friend was interrupting his time with you. You start to get up but he pushes you back down onto the bed diving back into your wet slit, he slides a finger in now as he laps up juices.

“Shoko…” Geto begins to talk but stops when you let out a moan but you quickly cover your mouth. 

“Shoko and I…. are here?” Geto continues to say from the other side of the phone. 

“Mhmmm” is all Gojo says as he flicks the tip of his tongue on your bud,

“Mmm” you're unable to hold back your moan, you cover your mouth with a pillow but Gojo grabs it and tosses it away from you. Your back arches and you whisper “I'm cumming.” 

 He pulls his fingers out rubbing your clit fast, the stimulation making you moan out loud. 

“Mmmm..aahhh f-fuck…” you cry out, your body trembling as you hit your climax again, this time it feels electric, your gasps and panting fill the room. 

“Uhh…ya still there?” Geto clears his throat. Your head shoots up to look at Gojos phone which was still connected to Geto. 

“Yeah yeah, we're on our way down.” Gojo winks at you, he hangs up the phone. Leaning down to give you a kiss before he walks off to clean his hands and face.

You meet Shoko and Geto down in the lobby, Geto greets you very quickly before he covers his face trying to hide the fact that he's blushing, hard. Shoko gives you a hug, a bit confused at Geto’s reaction. She thinks to herself for a moment before asking you, 

“Does my breath stink?” she huffs into her hand before blowing in your face.

“Nope, it smells minty. Why?” you ask.

“ He’s been like that ever since he got off the phone with Gojo,” her voice laced with concern.

Gojo lets out a hearty laugh and throws his arm around Getos shoulders, patting him on the back.

“Does my breath stink?” he grins at you then he turns to Geto trying to blow air in his face, you blush at his antics, you swat him away from Geto.

“Okay enough, stop being mean to Suguru.” you smack Gojo’s arm pushing him further away from Geto, Gojo snorts a little as he laughs at you and Geto both blushing now.

“I love you all so much!” And that was the start of a very awkward night with Shoko and Geto.

Somehow you felt like this trip wasn’t for you but it was actually for Gojo Satoru. The amount of times that he would pull you into the bathroom for a heated make out session just to leave you all hot and bothered as he walks out with that shit eating grin on his face. How his hand just rests right in between your legs as you're having dinner with friends, how he insists on you sitting beside him instead of across from him so he can “feel” you closer to him, and if you refuse to he pulls your chair next to him. You both had gone to your couples massage session when someone unexpectedly had to leave because they had a “stomach ache”, but you saw his bulge, the way his white haired happy trail led down to his bulge as he scooted out of the room, and how the girl masseuse blushed at the sight of it. Only for him to return very quickly when he realized it was a man that was going to be massaging you. From the way Gojo was eyeing you down in the massage room, you knew what to expect, you ended up on the cold and hard bathroom countertop, getting railed by Gojo, he’s practically whining and chanting your name, eyes rolling back into his head, sweat glistening and dripping down his body, his knuckles white from gripping the countertop.

Tonight is the last night, you both decided to go to the hot springs one last time before leaving.

“What’s wrong baby?” he places a hand on your shoulder giving it a squeeze.

“I’m not sure, I don’t think my pump is working.” you say trying to fiddle with it and sigh in defeat when it doesn't turn on.

“How am I supposed to pump now?” you massage your breasts gently feeling how full they’re becoming.

“I can suck on them for you.” he says nonchalantly, you turn around to look at him in disbelief.

“What? Someone else did it too. I read that a couple went on vacation and her husband had to drink her milk to help her.” he states, waving one finger in the air.

“Uh-huh….right so you didn’t happen to break my pump so you could…oh I don’t know…play out your kinky fetishes.” you tilt your head at him, he sprawls out on the bed dramatically, draping a hand across his eyes,

“Can’t believe my own wife would think so lowly of me, do you think I’m a sleazeball, who only worships the ground his beautiful wife stands on?” 

“Sounds like it.” you shrug your shoulders, walking over to him. He scoffs at what you say.

“Promise I won’t do anything else, just trying to help you.” he genuinely says as he takes  your hand kissing it. 

You sigh in defeat, 

“Fine, but that’s it.” you point a finger at him, laying on the bed.

 Gojo excitedly gets up and positions his body between your legs, he gently cups and massages your breast before taking a nipple into his mouth, slowly sucking on it, he can feel the dribble of milk come out before it starts to leak into his mouth. You exhale in relief, the feeling of heaviness going away in one boob. You're gently massaging his head and playing with his white hair, smoothing it down.

“ Does it feel better?” his beautiful blue eyes look up at you through his white lashes.

“Much better.” you reply, Gojo moves onto the other breast now doing the same.

“That should help.” he smiles sweetly at you but before he could get up you pull him in for a deep kiss, you lick his lips seductively before you let him go.

Gojo sits there for a split second stunned for a moment not expecting you to do that then he swoops back in and pulls you in for a kiss, his lips hungry to meet yours again.

 The rays of the sunset were peeking through the curtains of the hotel room, cascading down on your bodies. The faint noise of chatter can be heard outside the closed window. 

“ Thank you for coming on this trip with me, my love.” Gojo leaves feather light kisses on your cheeks and forehead. His blue eyes soften looking into your eyes lovingly, his body is in between your legs, his member sliding in and out of your wetness.

“Thank you for taking me here, I love you so so so much.” you stare back into his eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss, your tongues intertwining together.

“I love you too.” he grunts, feeling the way you clench down on his shaft. 

“Mmmm baby. I missed you. I missed us.” he pushes strands of your hair away from your face.

Gojo Satoru was grateful for everything you built together, he loves his kids just as much as he loves you, but he couldn’t lie to himself when he noticed all of your time spent together was filled with taking care of the twins. He missed spending time with you alone, being able to shower you with love was all he wanted to do again. Gojo wanted to show you how much he loves and appreciates you, because you’re the mother to his children but most importantly because you're the love of his life.

“ I missed us too.” you say rubbing your nose against his, you can feel the way his cock fills you up. His thrusts are slow and steady, but you wanted more.

“Please” is all you have to say, Gojo chuckles, thrusting deeper, hearing the way your moans get a little high pitched as he moves just an inch faster,

“Please what?” he slows down his thrusts again, taking a nipple into his mouth, he can taste the hint of sweet milk leaking from your nipple.

“Babe, your tits are leaking again.” he lets go and smirks at you. “I’ll take care of that for you.” he sucks your other nipple and he massages your boobs, giving them a squeeze. Your hands are now buried in his hair, his hands are pushing your breasts together as he licks and sucks on your nipples eventually settling on a spot on your boobs giving it a hard suck and nibble, you tug on his hair and he lets go to look at you,

“Don’t give me a hickey! We’re leaving tomorrow” you playfully slap his arm. 

“I was helping you.” he reasons with you.

“Your parents are gonn-” you let out a moan as Gojo sinks back into you again, his hands holding onto your hips.

“What was that baby?” he smiles at you as he continues to buck his hips into you.

“Nothin-ahh baby” you mumble, Gojos fingers are rubbing small circles on your clit. 

He loves the look on your face when you're unraveling beneath him. He loves that every touch of his drives you crazy, turning you into a moaning mess.

“Say it baby.” Gojo leans down to whisper in your ear, licking your ear lobe.

“ Just fuck me, or I’ll have to do it.” you say annoyed with the way he teases you,

He lets out a low chuckle, reaching under you and flipping both of your bodies around so now you’re on top of him, straddling his muscular thighs.

“ Then fuck me baby.” he grins, crossing his arms behind his head. 

God you hated that damn shit eating grin of his.

You place your hands on his chest and start to rock your hips back and forth. You can hear the way the bed squeaks and hits the wall with every other rock.

“ Feels so good, Toru.” you lean back, your hands are tangled in your messy hair, your feet are now flat on the bed, your hands on his chest again, you begin moving your hips up and down his thick long shaft, the way his cock slides deeper into your slit makes him grunt and throw his head back against the pillow.

“ Y-you’re even more wet for me, '' Gojo says, watching the way your body bounces on his cock, your boobs bouncing and shaking, your soft stomach jiggling, your thighs rippling against his, and the noises that your beautiful ass is making slapping against his thighs and balls.

“ F-fuck baby, gonna make me cum” -he groans as he grabs your hips- “ss-slow down”

“ But, I thought you told me to fuck you.” you smirk leaning down, your boobs now in his face, he licks your nipples, taking one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, you grab the headboard for support and you continue to ride him picking up your pace.

Your eyes are squinting almost shut, you're nearing your climax when Gojo shifts underneath you, he wraps his big strong arms around your body, shifting his position so he’s sitting against the headboard.

“ You’re being a bad girl.” Gojo growls into your ear then he pulls your hair, exposing your chest to him, he shoves his face into your boobs nipping at your skin, kissing up your collarbones to your neck leaving a hickey there, his other hand grabs your ass squeezing it tightly before letting go and giving it a hard smack. This makes you let out a small yelp biting your lip to hold back a moan.

“ Daddy didn’t say to stop.” he slaps your ass again making you move your hips up and down his shaft again. His other hand grabs your boobs and slaps it.

“Tell me what you want.” he slaps your ass again, making you jump at the sting.

“F-fill me u-up” you whine, Gojo smirks at your answer,

“ You dirty slut” and with that he slides you off of him making you get on your hands and knees

“Wanna watch that ass bounce for me” he fists his cock, his other hand rubbing your clit from behind, he slips a finger in,

“Still so wet for me” he slips another finger in, you bury your face into the pillow.

“Wanna hear you moan for this cock” he grabs the pillow and throws it on the hotel floor. He slides his cock in your pussy this time snapping his hips, his eyes roll back feeling the way you’re squeezing and clenching around his cock, how it feels when he pulls out and your slit tries to pull him back in. Gojo is thrusting deep and fast into you, the headboard banging against the wall, the bed shakes and squeaks even more, the pillows falling off, your fists are full of sheets as you chant out his name,

‘Fuck me Satoru,”

“Yes just like Toru”

“Satoru... I-I’m cumming.”

Gojo looks down at your figure, your body lazily propped up, your asscheeks ripple with each of his thrusts,

“D-daddy” you mewl out, drool dripping down your chin, your half lidded eyes looking back at him, your legs shaking. 

“Oh fuck baby, that’s what I like to see.” he growls, hugging your body from behind lifting you up, he grabs your face making out with you, his tongue exploring your mouth, his thrusts are frantic, 

“I’m cumming baby.” he says in between labored breaths,

‘Y-yes daddy cum for me.” you moan out, waves of pleasure wash over you as you hear his breath hitch in your ear, his strong arms squeeze you tighter against his body. His climax feels electrifying as it courses though his body, his body trembles as he feels you push back on him, his cum dripping down your thighs.

Gojo pants catching his breath, his arms relaxing around you, he gives you soft loving kisses down your neck, his hands gently caressing your breasts, he rubs your ass that is red from his slaps. He lays down with you on his chest, his fingers dancing across your bare skin.

“ I love you.” he kisses the top of your head, fixing your hair.

“I love you too.” you look up at him, giving him a kiss on the lips. You feel his cock twitch underneath you. 

“No.” you simply say getting off of him and running to the bathroom.

“Baby please, it’s been so long, little Gojo misses you!” he says running after you.

Extra Trimmings! “Come in, come in.” your mother in law gives you a hug, you hug her back, she motions for you to come inside. “How were they?” you ask her. “ Ugh, such sweet angels, we just put them down for their nap.” she says with a hand over her chest, closing the door quietly behind her. You look at Shin and Lena who are sleeping in their little beds in the living room. The three of you walk into the kitchen. She pours you and Gojo a cup of tea. “ So how was it? Did you two have a good time? '' She sips her tea.  “ We did, it was very relaxing, we definitely needed that quick vacation.” you say sheepishly.  “ Yes we did” Gojo winks at you without his mom noticing. “ I’m so glad to hear that, you both look so refreshed and energetic.” she sighs in relief  “why don’t you stay for dinner, no use in leaving now since the babies are sleeping.” “ That would be lovely, thank you mom.” you smile at her, “ I wouldn’t want to wake them up, they’ll be so grumpy.”  Your mother in law gives you a “oh I know” look. “We made that mistake once and it’s never happened again.” you both laugh. “ Ah Toru, while you’re here, would you mind going through some of those books you have in your room? I didn’t throw them away, I didn't know if you needed them for your teaching job.” his mom says waving a finger in the air. “ Will do, mom.” Gojo finishes his drink and places his cup in the sink. “ It’ll probably take you a while, there's quite a bit in those boxes.'' She turns around to take out vegetables from the fridge. “ Why don’t you come and help me?” he flashes that grin at you. You merely gulp and before you could protest Gojo is pushing you up the stairs.

Extra Extra Trimmings! One! Two! Three! POP! “Congratulations! You’re having a boy!” Everyone cheers for you and Gojo. “There’s definitely something in that water.” Geto shivers looking at Gojo and Nanami.

[pagegirlintraining]

If you are still feeling like doing the 5 sentences, may I request Wilmon with "It's a little bit funny"

Just for reasons.

First of all, thank you for this awesome prompt, I got so excited because I love this song so much😍 (I mean who doesn’t but anyway). I really hope you’ll like what I turned it into, even if it took me ages to get around to it 🙈

“It’s a little bit funny”, Simon states upon pulling back from their kiss.

“What?” Wille wiggles his eyebrows at the boy in his arms, feeling a rush of giddiness as he watches Simon’s face move into fond exasperation when he adds, “This feeling inside?”

“Shut up,” Simon tells him, and judging from his tone, he’s trying hard to contain a giggle. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here.”

“So this isn’t you writing another song about me?” Wille asks, sticking out his lower lip in a pronounced pout. “And I thought you loved me.”

There’s a playful shove to his chest from one of Simon’s hands, the other still remaining in its resting spot at the crook of Wille’s neck, pointer and middle finger playing with one of the short strands of hair behind his ear.

“I’m trying to tell you something here”, Simon protests, though this time the giggle does break through into his voice. “But maybe now I don’t want to anymore.”

“No, please tell me. I’ll shut up,” Wille hurries to say, quickly miming locking his mouth with an invisible key, which pulls another one of those fond little giggles out of Simon that are never not gonna make Wille’s entire chest light up.

“I was gonna say,” Simon concedes, drawing out the last syllable, “that it’s kinda funny how if we ever get married, there won’t even be any discussion of who takes whose last name. Because I’m literally the only one of us to even have a last name.”

And maybe, just maybe, Simon talking about marriage like it’s a thing that’s totally in the cards for them is even better than a new song.

Send me ‘Wilmon’ and a sentence and I’ll give you some more (eventually).

[jasongotdrip]

dawg what was I doing at 3 am💀🙏

i’ve NEVER drawn blitz before so this was strictly an experiment please i hate it so much… in the show WHY IS HIS HEAD BUILT LIKE THAT.. i lowkey wanted to give him hair out of spite. I don’t really like stolas that much but if i say anything more ill yap for eternity

don’t mind the background i got off pinterest

Also.. other random things I guess because im not making multiple posts🙄

Not me hyperfixating on a drunk grumpy gacha life oc looking ahh cat😭😭

i love the au’s people make of him, like overlord husk owns my soul (pun intended)

this drawing is not overlord husk but I might draw that soon, idk. I just wanted to see him in shades, and I wanted to practice drawing him

AND WHAT THE SIGMA?? 9K views in 2 days is CRAZY. ABSOLUTELY INSANE. I got like 30 subscribers from it which is even crazier. From like, a 10 second video of a hybrid princess and a snake inventor. This is my life now. I’ll cherish this 🥹 BUT SERIOUSLY THANK YOU LIKE THATS THE LAST THING I EXPECTED TO HAPPEN WHEN I POSTED THAT😭😭

—

also I’m working on 2 things but im losing motivation- one more than the other. Of course.. one of them is hazbin, but the other is helluva so.. yeah. I’ll most likely finish the helluva one first, bc the hazbin one is angst. I don’t like angst i just had an idea to do it

Also i kinda want to draw someone from spiderverse.. (maybe miles or pav🙈 ) - or miraculous, maybe. That show had so much potential but it keeps going in circles, like.. And now season 6 will have new designs. I used to be so obsessed with that show like I watched it DURING NEW YEARS with my sister a long time ago😭

I’m yapping so uhhh bye

[sidekick-hero]

first line tag/writing patterns ✍🏼

i got tagged by my dear schwester in spirit, @yournowheregirl as well as the talented @maxinemaxmayfield, my friend @starryeyedjanai, the lovely @augustjustice and the wonderful @penny00dreadful💜💜💜💜💜 (thank you all so so much and sorry, work is eating my spoons so I'm super late)

RULES: post the first lines of your last 10 fics/chapters posted on AO3 (if you have less than 10 fics posted, post the first lines of all your fics) and try to draw some conclusions

Cheesy "Steeeeeeve! Steven! I’m starving! You have to save me from the cruel clutches of death by buying us a pizza. But you must hurry—I don’t have much time left."

If I only could, make a deal with God Watching Vecna burn is even more satisfying than Steve ever imagined, though the stench of burning flesh makes his stomach twist.

when all you are is a weapon After Starcourt, after Billy, after too many concussions and more trauma than anyone should endure, Steve found himself relying on weed to calm his nerves and help him sleep.

In Loving Memory “Good afternoon, Mr. Harrington. My name is Elizabeth Quinn, and I’m part of the cabin crew today. Thank you for choosing to fly with us. I hope you're enjoying your flight so far.”

I'm in the corner, watching you kiss her Eddie had sworn to himself that he was done being a coward.

I’ve got a ghost in the hallway grinning "You are such a charmer, big boy. Oh, wow, your eyes are so blue; it's like looking at the ocean. I can't believe she let you get to second base after that line."

I think I love you, still "Steve, come on."

Dear Future Self Eddie used to hate summer, despised everything about it.

my heart's desire: you Eddie never expected much from life, if he was honest.

Baby, come home No one told Eddie that having all your dreams come true could feel so… shitty.

So, I slightly favor Steve's POV (6/10). I seem to like starting with dialogue (4/10) and am seemingly undecided between long and short sentences to start (5/10 each). Not much else I can detect so far.

Tagging a few dear writer friends: @hbyrde36, @just-my-latest-hyperfixation, @runninriot, @pearynice and @frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe (no pressure just love and if you already done this I'm sorry I'm a bit out of the loop 🙈)