#or that we shouldn’t be finding ways to be positive + keep our heads up

[hey-august]

DP December 🔴🔵

Ayyy, here's another one! There are 3 more ideas to get to, so let's see how far we get. Here's the first one, featuring Crocodile and Buggy.

WC: ~800

Warnings: NSFW, Shanks x gn!Reader x Buggy, insertion sex, double penetration - reader receiving, mention of male masturbation, creampies, cum eating, profanity

You were between the two men and it was overwhelming. You were lost to every detail - the heat from their skin against your back and chest, the flex of muscle and power keeping you in place, tenderness on your shoulders and neck from harsh teeth, their voices and breaths in your ear, the sheer fullness that had you gasping for air with each thrust.

“Fuck, I feel you rubbing against me,” Shanks groaned. His movements faltered with the weakness of desire. He shifted his one arm, moving your leg hooked over his elbow. A dazed moan escaped his lips as he grinded inside you.

The slight change in position felt like so much more. Buggy continued to fuck you, sliding against the length of Shanks’ cock. You felt so tight, as though your body was constricting the intrusions and refusing to give way to the two pirates.

Yet, at the same time, you felt impossibly stretched. Open and exposed. Pushed to your limits with both men filling you at the same time, sharing the same space within your body.

“Buggy-” The red-haired man’s whine was muffled by painted lips.

You picked up where Shanks left off, your whimpers falling on his chest.

The sound of their kisses and half-spoken thoughts fell over you. Their hunger for each other surrounded you.

Buggy’s need for Shanks to shut the fuck up. Shanks’ desire for Buggy’s attention. Buggy’s hand tangled in red hair. Shanks teeth on Buggy’s lips. Meanwhile, you let them find their wants and needs through your body.

Buggy pulled back first, breathless. With a shuddering ingale, he rut into you. Deep and slow, a pace he could match his breathing to.

“This reminds me of when we were younger.” Shanks’ words ran together, sliding into each other and unable to keep space. He was drunk on euphoria.

An irritated groan changed pitch at the next batch of teasing words.

“You remember, don’t you, Buggy? When you said we shouldn’t screw each other?” 

“Knock it off,” came from behind.

“C’mon…” Shanks rested his head on yours as he spoke, letting you hear the rustle of his stubble against your hair.

“W-what happened?” you asked. This wasn’t your conversation, but you had a role. A job to fill, while you were being filled.

“He’d say we sh-shouldn’t have sex. He said he didn’t like me that way.” 

“Shut up, Shanks,” Buggy whined through his teeth, which were now softly clamped over your shoulder to bite back his own words.

You grunted from a sloppy thrust from the clown and Shanks took your noise as affirmation to continue.

“So we couldn’t fuck, right?” 

Another strangled noise from Buggy. “Shanks!”

“But it was okay if he jacked us off. Buggy would hold both our cocks in his hands and - fuck - it felt like this,” Shanks huffed, as he picked up the pace in more places than one.

“It didn’t count if we got off that way. It was what friends did. They h-helped each other.” The story continued over the faint protests still spoken against your skin. “So he’d help himself to a handful and rub our dicks together, the greedy thing.”

“Shanks…” Buggy’s plea was pathetic and reedy. Poorly disguised.

“Can you guess who would cum first? Who couldn’t get enough of feeling me?” Each word was punctuated with a thrust, one that was as intentional as the questions Shanks asked.

Buggy answered with a choked noise and pulses deep inside you, his cum coating your walls and Shanks. You could feel some slide out while Shanks’ continued sliding in and out.

“Uh-huh, that’s it, Buggy.”

Shanks’ breath grew ragged with each whimper that came from Buggy. Neither one stopped their movements as they continued the moves they practiced many years ago. Shanks came with a shudder that threw him off balance. He stumbled slightly and you tensed with the movement, earning delicious noises from front and back.

Your high didn’t arrive with theirs, but it wasn’t forgotten. Buggy replaced himself, putting his mouth against your spent hole, ready to clean you and Shanks. Meanwhile, the other pirate devoured you himself with a kiss so full of passion and appreciation that your chest threatened to burst first.

Working in tandem, they brought you to the brink of pleasure and beyond. Again and again until you were too lost to know where one person ended and the other began.

When your thoughts finally stopped buzzing and they landed back in your empty head and tired body, you found yourself nestled in warm sheets. You were curled into Shanks, your head resting on his left shoulder. On the other side was Buggy. He was already asleep and drooling, with Shanks' arm wrapped around and holding him close. There was an arm wrapped around you as well. Although it fit better on Buggy’s body, for the moment the appendage belonged to Shanks. 

And for that moment, he could hold you both in a warm embrace.

[stormysprite]

My first fanfic! I wanted to start out with a fluffy (and maybe a little crack-y?) oneshot featuring the lu boys. Link to the AO3 coming once my account gets approved later this week!

✨Magical Placeholder for Title Until I Figure It Out✨

Warriors stared down the strategy map, rubbing the pebble that represented him between his fingers. He’d battled unlikely odds before, but this was a whole new level of hopeless.

He had to try. For the sake of his brothers, he had to try.

“Captain?” Sky asked, fiddling with his sailcloth. “Are you sure we shouldn’t get the old man?”

“He’s compromised. Always has been for missions like this, he’s just better at hiding it now. We’re certain Hyrule can’t swim?”

“He shrieked when Wild went waist deep into the lake a few months ago,” Four said from Warriors’s other side. “I don’t think anyone in Hyrule’s world knows how to swim.”

That complicated things. Hyrule would be one of the most resistant to their plan, and they couldn’t just throw him in. Warriors considered using Legend to coax Hyrule into the water, but the veteran seemed to have a thing against water. Probably another secret. Legend seemed to have a lot of those.

Warriors rubbed between his brows. He sighed and looked up at the pine trees surrounding their campsite. He’d convinced everyone except Sky and Four—the only Heroes who would accept his desperate plan—to forage or collect firewood elsewhere. That had been an hour ago. They were out of time for finding other solutions.

“All right,” he said. “We’ll have to keep Hyrule in the shallows, then. Four?”

Four grinned, teeth glinting in the sunlight.

“Way ahead of you, Captain.”

Warriors nodded and turned to Sky. The Chosen Hero had already grabbed his gust bellows and gave him a grim nod.

“Good,” Warriors said. “There’s just one other part of our problem to solve.”

He placed his own pebble next to the river on the map and picked up the miniature wolf Sky had carved the other day.

“Not it,” Four and Sky said at the same time.

“I didn’t even—” Warriors turned from the map. Both his brothers had their fingers on their noses. The captain huffed. 

“Fine. I’ll wrestle the wolf. But you both are on laundry duty for this.”

“Small price to pay,” Four said.

“Yeah, I like my fingers right where they are.” Sky drummed his digits on the bellows with an apologetic smile. Warriors shook his head.

“Just get into position. Remember, quick and precise. We can’t afford mistakes.”

Four nodded. Coming from anyone else, Sky’s salute would have been sarcastic, but Warriors knew his fellow knight meant it. They both left, and the operation was on. Warriors took a deep breath, rolled up the map, and got his supplies from his pack.

He crept to the stream near their campsite, past the spot where Four had laid out everyone’s armor under the guise of repairing it later tonight. Good. Nothing would rust this way.

He crouched behind a bush near the shore and laid out his supplies. Three brushes for different hair textures, a pile of rags, a larger pile of fluffy towels, and the largest bottle of soap he’d ever seen. They hadn’t stayed in his world long enough to drag everyone to a bathhouse last week, but at least he’d had time to stock up. He lined up a smaller bottle of conditioner next to the brushes. Far as he knew, he’d be the only one interested in it.

A shout echoed across the forest. Phase One had begun.

Warriors grabbed the soap and squeezed a thick thread into the almost-still water. He wished he had one of Wild’s Korok leaves to stir, but a large stick he found near shore would have to do. He frothed the soap until a thick layer of foam sat on the water. Good thing Sky had offered to build a dam downstream so the soap wouldn’t wash away.

The lavender and eucalyptus soap floated into Warriors’s nose, making him relax. Another shout—no, that was a howl—jerked him into action. Four’s part of the plan must have worked. How the smithy knew what would provoke Twilight into transforming, Warriors had no idea. He didn’t want to know. Plausible deniability in case Twilight got mad. Warriors shuddered and returned to the bush.

Another howl. Footsteps racing.

Closer.

Closer.

Wheezing, Sky tore into the clearing. He spotted Warriors, nodded, and lined up with his back to a tree. Sky pointed his gust bellows at the water. No one approaching the stream would see him.

“Cheatin’ bilge rat!” Wind sprinted into the clearing after Sky, Legend and Hyrule just behind. “You’re shark bai—”

Sky turned on his gust bellows.

Wind screeched and flailed headfirst into the stream. Hyrule tumbled after him. Legend figured out what was going on and activated his pegasus boots, running against the gust. Sky’s bellows blew stronger. Legend lost his footing and splashed into the stream.

Warriors covered his mouth to hold back a snicker.

Three heads popped up from the water. Hyrule looked panicked. Legend looked torn between holding up Hyrule and dragging Sky in with them. Wind looked murderous.

The sailor lunged up to grab Sky’s ankle, but Sky gusted until Wind fell back into the stream.

“You yellow-bellied, lily-livered, octo-brained seagull splat!” Wind yelled, but Warriors could hear him covering up a laugh.

“I have no idea what any of those words mean,” Sky said with a grin and an extra puff of air in Wind’s face.

Wind sucked in a breath, probably to ‘educate’ Sky. Another howl and a high-pitched, unheroic scream cut him off.

“Sky!”

Four tore into view and tossed Wild’s Sheikah Slate to Sky before jumping into the water. Wild burst from the bushes and dove after Four with a splash. Wolfie raced after them, skidding to a stop before the shore. He took a step back and looked around.

Come on, Twilight. Just a little closer.

Four burst above the surface, only for Wild to tackle him deeper into the stream. Warriors had only seen that look on Wild’s face once—right before disintegrating the iron knuckle that had downed Twilight.

Maybe Warriors had miscalculated his plan.

“Wild! Wild, stop—” Four spluttered, treading water while stopping Wild from dragging him to the bottom. “The Slate’s fine. Sky has it, look.”

Sky flinched as Wild turned his glare onto him, but the Chosen Hero waved the Sheikah Slate to prove Four’s point. Grumbling, Wild swam back to the edge and made grabby hands for his prized item.

“Give it.”

Sky held the Slate out of reach, putting it at the base of a tree.

“You can have it back after your bath. The Captain can’t stand our smell anymore.”

Caught in the moment, Warriors stood up from his hiding place to argue how that wasn’t what he’d said—he’d thought it, but hadn’t said it—before realizing he’d blown his cover. Warriors caught Wolfie’s eye. Wolfie bolted.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Warriors lunged for Wolfie and shoved his shapeshifting brother toward the water. Wolfie stumbled, but didn’t fall in.

How was Twilight heavier in this form?

A burst of wind from Sky pounded against Warriors’s back, pushing the wrestling captain and wolf closer to the stream. Wolfie dug in his claws and growled. Warriors pushed against the wretched-smelling mound of dog with all his strength, but Wolfie didn’t budge.

A splash was all the warning he got before five sets of hands shot out of the water, grabbed Wolfie, and pulled him in. Warriors sailed through the air and hit the stream, water and bubbles shooting up his nose. He broke the surface, coughing and spluttering. Eucalyptus burnedthrough his sinuses.

When he could finally see and breathe again, he cackled at the sight in front of him.

Wolfie squirmed as Wild and Legend kept him from swimming to shore. A cloud of mud surrounded the rest of the Heroes, mostly coming from the wolf. Wind scrubbed soap into the fur. Four rubbed Wolfie’s paws, freeing wads of muck jammed between the pads. Hyrule clung to Wolfie’s back and made bubble hats for the wolf. 

Warriors had never seen the mighty beast so undignified.

Wolfie whimpered. A chime sounded and black flecks started to swarm around him.

“Oh, no you don’t.” Legend bopped Wolfie on the nose. The black flecks disappeared, and Wolfie growled. Hyrule added a pompom to Wolfie’s bubble hat. “Your smell’s going to attract monsters if you don’t clean up this version of yourself. Honestly, your fur crackles.”

“And it reduces the risk of us getting sick,” Warriors said as he waded toward the group. He shot a dirty look at Sky, dry and giggling on the shore. “Which is the real reason I organized this.”

“Did you have to throw us in?” Wild asked.

Warriors shrugged and rubbed soap into Wild’s hair. If his brothers were going to focus solely on scrubbing Twilight, Warriors could make sure everyone else got clean, too. Wild melted under the touch and almost lost hold of Wolfie.

“We needed to do laundry, too. This hits two ChuChus with one arrow. Besides, would you have taken a bath if I’d asked nicely?”

Wild shook his head, but caught sight of something on shore and grinned. Warriors followed his gaze and felt his eyes grow wide.

Time loomed behind Sky, who hadn’t noticed him yet. Sky squeaked as Time picked him up and hurled him at the other Heroes. All eight of them plunged under, legs, arms, and one tail tangling together. They finally surfaced, Hyrule still using Wolfie as a raft. Everyone piled on Sky to make sure he got as drenched as the rest of them.

“Stop,” Sky said between giggling and failing to push them away. “That—that tickles!”

Which was the worst thing to tell a group of Links, Warriors thought. Chaos and mayhem were vital parts of the Hero’s Spirit. Even Warriors splashed suds on Sky after that comment. After all, Sky had a great laugh.

A shadow blocked out the sun, too sudden and dark to be a cloud. Warriors looked up.

Oh.

Oh, no.

He’d definitely miscalculated.

Time cannonballed straight for them.

Later that night, while they dried off and teased each other over dinner, Warriors admitted he screamed like a little girl. If only because his seven other brothers did the exact same thing. 

[dreamyelectronicmusic]

Aaah I missed you were asking for drabbles! Honestly I think you would do an amazing job on all of them but I was thinking value me? Or quiet me or tell me or unbind me? Hahaha ok so I couldn’t choose

have a great day!

Thank you so much! I went with your first choice and picked "value me" so I could write a scene from a wip that's unlikely to see the light of day in full. For context, Wille and Simon have been broken up for five years, then some things happen and when they see each other again, it takes them approximately 0.5 seconds to fall into bed together.

I hope you have a great day too!

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

Wille brushed a sweaty curl from Simon’s forehead, letting his fingers run along his hairline and down his jaw. Simon’s eyelashes fluttered at the touch as they lay facing each other, their breathing slowly getting back to normal. He returned Wille’s gaze, seemingly equally unwilling to look away, searching Wille’s face for evidence of the years gone by. He was so beautiful. For what felt like the millionth time today, Wille wondered if Simon had become even more beautiful in time they’d been apart. He wanted to remember him like this, flushed and glowing from the pleasure they’d shared and looking at Wille like he was the only real thing in the world.

All too soon, though, his face grew sombre as Wille had known it would, and he flopped on his back to stare at the ceiling, Wille’s hand sliding off his face and falling empty on the pillow.

“What are we doing here, Wille?” he asked.

Wille hadn’t expected today to go the way it had, hadn’t imagined he’d ever end up sharing a bed with Simon again, but he knew the answer to the question.

“That’s up to you,” he said softly. “I’ll respect your decision.”

Simon exhaled through his nose, shaking his head minutely. “What does that mean?”

Wille briefly considered mirroring Simon’s position and lying on his back, wondering if it would be easier to talk about this like that. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. He wanted to keep looking, for as long as he could.

“I would very much like to have you in my life again, Simon,” he said, grateful to find his voice didn’t shake. “In whatever capacity you’re comfortable with. As friends or acquaintances or…” His mouth refused to form the words casual hookup, knowing too well nothing involving Simon could ever be casual for him. “... or whatever you want. But I don’t want to cause you any more pain or complicate your life. I’ll understand if you just want me to go and leave you alone again.”

Simon was quiet for a moment, blinking up at the ceiling. He ran his hand over his face, sighed. “I think I ruined our chances of being friends when I jumped your bones the moment you walked in,” he said with a strained little chuckle. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have– I wasn’t thinking.”

“You promised you wouldn’t regret it,” Wille blurted. It wasn’t strictly speaking true. What Simon had said, when Wille had stilled his hand on his belt buckle and asked him not to do anything he’d end up regretting, fully aware he couldn’t ever say no to Simon, was I have never regretted a single thing that happened between us.

That was the only thing that mattered to Wille. He would do anything, but he didn’t want to be Simon’s bad decision.

Simon turned his head to look at him, then turned his whole body, scooting closer. “I don’t,” he murmured. He lifted a hand and stroked the side of Wille’s face the way Wille had touched him earlier, so exquisitely tender Wille felt like his heart was going to shatter. He was powerless against the urge to lean his cheek into the touch. “I don’t. But I’m – I don’t know if I can –” Simon sighed. “I don’t want to hurt you, either.”

Wille smiled softly. His kind, caring Simon. (Well, not his. But his anyway. Always his.) “Please don’t worry about that,” he said. “I promise I’m not getting my hopes up. I meant what I said. Whatever you want is fine. Anything or nothing. I’ll always be grateful that I got to spend a little more time with you, but you have to do what’s right for you.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “All I want is for you to be happy, and I know that wasn’t so easy with me around.” It was a hard thing to say but it was true, and not much about their circumstances had changed in any meaningful way. 

Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, a droplet of moisture clinging to his lashes. “What about you?” he asked, sounding slightly choked. “Do you get to be happy?”

Simon’s hand was still cupping Wille’s cheek, thumb stroking gently. Wille covered his hand with his, pressing it closer while he still could.

“I get to have known you and loved you. That’s pretty much the same thing.” 

[skulla-rxcks]

we met on the rooftops.

Paring: simon henriksson x fem reader

Rating: explicit

Genre: smut

Warnings: SA, S0mnophilla, s3lf harm & su1cide mention.

You meet Simon right after Sophie’s death and stick together in this horrifying world, later that night his lust takes over and does something that he’ll regret.

“Hey. Are you okay?” I call out, seeing a clearly ‘disturbed individual’. “I..she just..” he struggles to get his words out as he looks down from the rooftop we both are on.

I walk closer to him, taking in his rushed and beaten up appearance. “My friend she just.. jumped.” He mutters, his expression cold, frozen almost. Clearly trying to take in what just happened.

“you mean she just, killed herself? Did she say any reasonings?” I ask. He shakes his head in response; “not really.”

I help him up, holding his hand, beginning to walk down from the roof with him. “do you.. do you see them too? My friend she.. didn’t. I feel like I’m going insane.” His grip on my hand tightens. “You mean the monsters..?” I question, receiving a nod from him. “Yeah, the monsters, whatever the fuck they are.. I thought I was going crazy but thank god you see them too.”

We make our way down and decide to go and rest in an old abandoned apartment, due to the coldness outside getting more chilling by the second.

“when do you think this will end..?” the man murmurs. “I’m not sure. there has to be some way” I sigh, digging through all of the drawers and cabinets trying to find something to snack on, or at least some supplies to keep us going for the meantime.

“I didn’t catch your name by the way.” I say, taking out some instant noodles I found in one of the draws. “simon.” he responds, laying down on the bed.

“I found some noodles can you look around for a kettle?”

“alright” Simon groans as he gets up, Cleary not in the mood for looking around, just wanting to sleep. “found it.” He brings it over to me after filling it up with water. I plug the kettle in and turn on the switch, waiting for the water to boil. Once it does I pour some of the contents into a bowl, placing it next to Simon who is now lying on the bed, having taken off his hoodie to allow himself to relax.

He starts eating his noodles while staring into nothing and I sit back, leaning against the wall behind me. “you said you saw the monsters before.. did you ever try to kill yourself?” He asks once he swallows his food.

I don’t even think about it before responding.

“why does that matter?”

“I’ve only seen like 2 people.. and they, they only see stuff if they’ve tried it seems.. I don’t know.” Simon mumbles, stuffing his mouth with food, he probably hasn’t eaten in weeks.

“well yeah I have.. if that answers your question.” my gaze turns to his wrists, he’s scratching at what seems like self inflicted wounds, I decide not to say anything. “I’m gonna see if the shower works.” He tells me, before heading into the bathroom.

After eating I decide to go to sleep, knowing Simon will join me shortly after.

he finishes washing himself, whimpering slightly as the hot water makes contact with the cuts on his wrists and thighs. he dries himself off and gets changed before coming out of the bathroom. I’m already sound asleep already, so quickly somehow.

he lays down next to me, pulling the sheets over the both of us, he can’t help but stare at my pale thighs on show under my skirt as he moves the blanket slightly. “fuck.” he grunts as he feels a familiar tent in his pants forming, a tent that he hasn’t felt in what feels like forever, it feels like it’s been ages since he’s let alone touched himself, or, touched someone else.

“I shouldn’t.. not now but, fucking hell..” he mutters, gently taking his dick out of his boxers. he begins to stroke himself soft but roughly, watching as his precum leaks out of the tip of his cock. “I’m so sorry. I.. I need to..” he apologises repeatedly and pulls my skirt and panties down in one tug, I’m not aware that any of this is happening. Simon positions himself at my opening and pushes inside of me with one painful thrust.

He lets out a handful of moans as he feels the tightness of my cunt around him. “shit..” Simon starts thrusting hard inside of me, groaning as he gets closer and closer to his release. “need to.. feel all of you..” his hands slide up my shirt and massage my breasts, squeezing them roughly as he fucks me in my sleep.

I squirm slightly in my sleep causing Simon to cuss at himself. “no don’t wake up fuck.. no.. not. now.. not while I’m..”

“S-Simon.. what are you… mmgh!!” my words are cut off as he wraps one of his hands around my neck and squeezes it gently, bring his face into mine and kissing me roughly while continuing to force his cock inside of me. “I’m sorry.. I’m so Fucking sorry..” he repeats, but this time against my lips. “Mmfh.. Simon.. why… why are you.. ahh..” I moan, trying to get my words out but they’re replaced with whimpers as he continues the assault inside of my cunt.

“I’m so, so Sorry...” he says again and again, his breathing uneven and his voice raspy from crying. It takes everything I have left to not let the tears fall and give in to my own pleasure.

“d-dont cry just… ow.. it hurts. Simon s-slow down!!” I beg, trying to get him off me in the kindest way possible, But he doesn’t listen. “shut up! just let me fuck you.. I need this..” he scolds me, his grip on my throat getting tighter and tighter, making me squirm underneath him. “I.. I can’t breathe, SIMON!!” I yell out, ripping off his hand from my neck and gasping for air, but he still fucks me.

“you’re hurting me..”

“just be quiet and let me have this..Please.” he cries, tears dripping down onto my neck. “just let me use you.” I nod, knowing that either way he’s going to continue. His thrusts get faster and rougher, causing me to bleed occasionally every time he hits my cervix. “Ow..”. “S-Stop whining!” he threatens, pounding me harder and harder.

“i.. I..”

“Shut Up and Let ME FUCK YOU!” he yells, tears forming and spilling down his face.

I bite my lip hard enough to draw blood, trying my best not to let out any sounds so he doesn’t make it more painful for me.

Tears also stream down my face uncontrollably, as the pain in my chest intensifies and my vision goes blurry.

I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for it to end, but it never does.

With one final thrust he cums inside of me, filling me with his warm seed. “I’m sorry.. I’m so fucking sorry I.. I didn’t mean to go this far I just..” he pulls out, mumbling his words against my shoulder, he hugs me tightly and keeps apologising to me. “why.. why did you do this to me.”

“it’s been so long since I’ve.. you know. please look at me.. are you mad at me? please don’t go.. im sorry im really sorry..”

“Simon.” I sigh.

[magicalbats]

Flesh-Devouring Part 3

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 18,592

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

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

Header credit goes to the oh so lovely @jymwahuwu💕

⭐

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

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

“Thank you, sir.”

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

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

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

��Ooh … thank you, sir.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You exaggerate …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace?” 

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

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

“Good. And what else?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Would you like a little preview?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I suppose I am.” 

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

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

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

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

Much to your gobsmacked surprise, he was right. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neuvillette’s brows slowly lift. “Oh.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“O - okay …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please think nothing of it, monsieur Neuvillette …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… yes?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wha - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean, monsieur?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, this was … 

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

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

“No, I suppose we don’t.” 

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

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

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

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

“I thought perhaps you could join me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, your grace. My apologies.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Much, your grace.” 

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

“Have you helped many ladies in their boudoir?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… I don’t think so.” 

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

“Oh.” You blurt out, with feeling. 

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

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

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

“Do you want it tonight?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shall I do it like this, sir?” 

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

“You’re the one who taught me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s not that …” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But then he finds your clit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swat! 

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

Swat! 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ll stay?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

⭐

Crossposted: here

[matildaanymore]

𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐄 (𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐)

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 : billie eilish x fem!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 : Claire is best friends with billie eilish but what happens when she finds out she has a song written about their complicated relationship

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : alcohol

PART 1 HERE

                                         ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Obviously it is…” she then rambled on about everything until she got shut up with a kiss…

Claire pulled away instantly… shocked. She wasn’t expecting the girl to kiss her. Not that she didn’t want to kiss Billie. She wanted to talk. She wanted to understand the other girl's point of view. 

“I shouldn’t have done that” Claire was stunned with tears in her eyes. She felt a sense of guilt and worry. . “I…” speechless was all she felt. 

“Let’s just speak” with that Billie pulled Claire outside into her garden. People were dotted around smoking, drinking or just chatting near the pool.

The girls sat down together under a tree. A decorated blossom tree that the girls used to sit under all the time and write together. It held special memories for the both of them. To others it was just a blossom tree that stood in the corner of her garden. The garden was lit up with fairy lights scattered around to create a homely feel.

“Talk to me” 

Claire was pretty straight forward when it came to confrontation. She knew it could be positive or negative but preferred to talk to others about how each of them feel rather than pushing them away and never solving whatever was happening. Years ago Claire used to push away anyone that became close to her; she never spoke to anyone about how she felt and thought it was easier to not mention it than speak. It was a way of protecting herself from many previous friendships or relationships that had negative impacts on anyone she tried to speak to before either shut her down or not listen to her at all. Billie opened up to her one day about something that was going on in her life. It made her realize that talking is better than ignoring everything with the right people. She was grateful for it, it taught her to keep in touch with people more and that it made everything feel more relaxing and mature.

The girl sighed before speaking…“Lunch is about you. I’ve liked you for ages. I wanted to tell you straight up but I was already writing the lyrics to lunch as a way to express my feelings in my diary but I tried to push everything down and away thinking that it was silly and that it would ruin our friendship. I mean my family already loves you, and I don’t want anything to change between us. The song was me expressing my feelings of what went on between us that one night. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Finneas said he could tell I liked you after that night. He knew everything by just watching the way we interacted”

“I understand where you’re coming from but you could have just told me”

 Claire leaned close to Billie’s face making intense eye contact while flicking her eyes down to her lips. “I like you too Bil” The two girls kissed, both giggling in between. 

“Hor-fucking-ay” they snapped their heads toward the boy stood across the garden who was walking towards them. 

“It was about time this happened” Finneas sat down next to them, jokingly ruining the moment. He joined them both sat under the tree. “I’ve been waiting for this my whole life… Anyone could see how in love you two were” Billie pushed his head while all 3 of them laughed in unison just enjoying the moment of her favorite people being in the same place.

 “I’m off. Proud of you both” with that Claire got up and walked back into the house but not before pecking Billie on the lips which caused Finneas to fake gag. 

                                         ︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The next day Claire couldn’t stop smiling. She danced around the house to the newly released album attempting to sing the lyrics until she heard her doorbell ring. Claire walked towards the door unlocking it to reveal the ocean eyed girl. 

“Hey” “Hey!”. The two walked toward the living room both throwing themselves on the couch. It was silent. Not an awkward silence but a comforting silence until Claire started giggling. 

“What are you laughing at?” Billie replied with a laugh. The girl didn’t answer but kept laughing which caused the other girl to start tickling her. 

“Stop Bil stop, I can't breathe, '' the girl said in between breaths. Suddenly the girls' faces were close together and soon closed the gap. 

“I love you” Billie smiled ear to ear “I love you too.”...

Liked by billieeilish, radvxz and 1,394,304 others

claire: oh i love you miss.

billieeilish: i love you.

user: THE LAST PIC... HELLO?

A/N : idk what to write for part 3 so might leave it as this for now 😔 TYSM FOR THE LOVE xx

[mothergold]

| A Haunting Face |

Ruan Mei x Gn!Reader | Minors do not interact

Warnings: Gender neutral reader, Very Selfship coded, First Meet, No gender descriptions for reader, No pronouns for reader, Fluff, 1.7k words.

A/n: I wanted to write a fic for how me and Ruan Mei meet in our selfship, so I wrote it 👍🏻 I plan on writing more about this selfship because this was the most fun I had writing something in such a long time. I may make this a small series of one shots related to each other so keep that in mind too.

Summary: When Asta sends you on what was supposed to be a quick errand you end up lost in the seclusion zone, and come face to face with a certain someone.

It’s unusual to think about the first time you met Ruan Mei now. A smirk creeps on your lips as you turn the page of an all too familiar book. Although you enjoy the present there is no harm in reminiscing. You let out a soft sigh as the pleasant memories flood through your mind.

One Year Ago

“This is a mess.” You threw your head back and groaned. “How am I supposed to find the paperwork with all this-“ you grabbed a forgotten file envelope and tossed it to the side “-junk in the way?”

The girl behind you, Asta, rubbed the back of her head and chuckled nervously. “Sorry. I’ll have someone clean it up after you find it.”

You turned your head to look at her. “If I find it.” You returned your gaze to the task at hand with a groan. “Why do you need the records anyway?”

Asta helped you look through a nearby file cabinet that had collected dust. “Beats me. All I know is that Madame Herta wants it brought to her by the end of the day.”

You searched through file after file while thinking back on what Asta had told you before about those records.

“I don’t know much of the details. All I know is that Madame Herta was adamant that she needed it by today.”

“What does she need the records for if you don’t mind me asking?”

“That I cannot disclose. I’m sorry.”

Weird, you thought.

Shuffling through another file cabinet you came across a rather aged and odd looking folder, and just as you were about to open it Asta snatched it from your hand.

“You found it!” She exclaimed, hugging it close to her chest with a satisfied hum. “Thank god, I was so sure I’d have been toast if we didn’t find it.”

You grinned and gave Asta a look.

She waved and chuckled nervously. “I mean.. Thank you for finding it.”

You stood up from your kneeling position to brush off the dust and dirt that had collected on your pants. “So, is that all then?”

Asta stood up and smiled awkwardly. “Well..”

You sighed, putting a hand on your hip. “Alright, spit it out.”

“Okay, so the truth is I need you to grab one more thing for me.” She admitted.

You raised a brow playfully as you waited for her to continue.

“I need you to talk to a researcher named Emily down in the control center on the storage zone, from there she will give you the rest of the instructions. If you have any problems just say that Asta sent you, but you shouldn’t run into any difficulties. I’ve already debriefed her that this might’ve been a possibility.”

You sighed dramatically and flashed Asta a smile. “If I must.”

“Oh, thank you, thank you! You’re a lifesaver!” Asta exclaimed.

After Asta gave you a hug as thanks the two of you went your separate ways and you headed towards your destination. It had been a while since you had to make your way down there and admittedly you ended up getting a little lost in the process, but you eventually found your way there. Or at least you thought you had.

“Where the hell..” You mumbled to yourself.

Looking around you were sent down a bunch of twists and turns after taking the elevator to what was supposed to be the storage zone, but you didn’t recognize any of your surroundings. You eventually stopped at a wall to look at the map of the space station again. Surely, there must’ve been some explanation for all of this.

Just as you had given up and decided to try finding your way back to the elevator, you spotted a lit up door nearby that looked promising. As it opened up you entered a room that you had most certainly never been in before. Taking a quick look around you saw no one and barely anything out of the ordinary. Until you heard meows by your feet.

Looking down you saw what looked to be a creature resembling a cat. You couldn’t help but smile as you looked at it, it was quite precious after all.

“Well, hello sweetheart.” You cooed, kneeling down to pet it gently.

The cat purred and trusted you almost instantly. A part of you wished you could take it home with you, but something told you that wouldn’t be right. You gave it an apologetic smile before moving forward.

“I’m sorry, bubbie.” You said as you gave the creature a few goodbye pats.

Continuing on with your investigation you soon noticed that there were quite a few of those cats lying around the room. Although what really caught your attention was a lone figure off in the corner of the room, doing something you couldn’t get a glimpse of. Finally, you thought. You had been relieved to see someone else in this vacant zone aside from you.

Walking at a quick pace you called out to the person, explaining your situation as you eventually came face to face with the stranger. It was a woman whose face you swore you’d seen before, but that would be ridiculous and impossible. The woman ended up paying you hardly any attention as if she was hoping you’d simply leave her alone, but that was not what happened.

“I’m so sorry, I’m trying to find the storage zone and..” You had begun to explain to the stranger your situation and where you were supposed to be, but still she seemed to pay you no mind.

The woman finally stopped what she was doing to look at you. “You shouldn’t be down here.” She sounded disappointed.

“I know and I sincerely apologize for that, but if you could just help me get out of here then I would- O-Okay, you’re touching my face.. Why are you touching my face?” You stammered.

“Just a simple work habit of mine. It helps me understand people better.” She explained.

She tilted your face side to side and then moved her fingers so that they rested underneath your chin. Looking deep into your eyes she analyzed you, taking every part of you with her as she became suddenly fascinated by you. Finally she removed her hand from your face and tilted her head as if to study you.

“Your name is..” As she spoke your name you felt a familiar feeling tug at your heart. “..Correct?”

You nodded, still not quite listening to what she was saying. Where had you seen her before? Have you ever seen her before? You were sure if you knew her name it would all click into place.

She smiled at you upon your approval of your name.

“What’s your name? Miss..?” You nearly blurted it out. On one hand you felt a little guilty but on the other you were losing patience just waiting for her to say it.”

“You can just call me Ruan Mei.” She replied with a smile.

Ruan Mei, you thought with a smile.

“That’s a beautiful name.” You said, not realizing what you had said until hearing the words come straight out of your own mouth.

Ruan Mei smiled and chuckled to herself.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You said rubbing the back of your head. “I don’t know why I said that. I mean- !”

You leaned back against the counter with your hand and had somehow knocked over a tray filled with (thankfully) empty vials. In your effort to reach down for them you somehow lost your balance just in time for you to fall into Ruan Mei’s arms. Admittedly that wasn’t the first time that had happened. You remembered how Herta had to leave strict instructions for you to stay out anywhere with fragile objects to avoid the fiascos that so often occurred, but in front of Ruan Mei had to be the worst time of all for your clumsiness.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You panicked.

Ruan Mei helped you back into an upright position, seemingly unbothered by your clumsiness even with every one of those vials shattered.

“It’s alright.” She reassured you with a gentle expression.

“B-But I broke the- and I was such a fucking clutz!” You knelt down to clean up the mess. “Let me make this right.” But you were quickly and carefully yanked back up by Ruan Mei.

“Careful.” She said sternly. “Plus, there’s no need. It’s just broken glass after all, I can get new ones quite easily.” She replied reassuringly, watching as your expression of dread slowly vanished into some sort of relief. “Besides, those weren’t mine anyway, and whoever’s it was mustn't have cared much considering how long they’ve been sitting down here.”

You blinked at her and then chuckled nervously. “Oh, okay then.”

Although Ruan Mei could feel the embarrassment in your voice she smiled regardless. Being pleased with herself that you had trusted her word.

“You said you needed to find your way to the storage zone? If so, I can still take you up on your request and lead you there.” She suggested.

Her words didn’t soak in until a few moments passed but once they had you nodded with a big smile on your face, one that you tried dearly to not show so obviously.

“Yes! I would love that, thank you.” You replied gleefully.

“Alright, then allow me to clean up the broken glass and we can be on our way.”

The both of you smiled at each other. You knelt down to help her clean up the glass and before you knew it the mess was entirely gone. It seemed as if disaster had never struck at all. Eventually the both of you made your way to the storage zone, and as you walked there you couldn’t help but smile as Ruan Mei talked about various things that she shared with you. It was true that you had only just met her but you couldn't help but feel like you’d been in her presence before, but you would’ve remembered feeling that warmth. There was no way you could forget such a lovely feeling.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

"I've mended all my ways, repented, seen the light, and made a switch."

The fact that Rollo has a voice line where he genuinely expresses an interest in visiting the Mostro Lounge KILLS me 😂 This fan art in particular makes me laugh a lot!

It's also at this point that I realize I thought the Heartslabyul headcanons with Rollo would be super long (because of there being 5 members in that dorm), but the Savanaclaw and Octavinelle headcanons ended up being even longer...

A Big Octavinelle Welcome to Rollo!

Rollo's interest was piqued when he first heard about the on-campus eatery that Azul runs. However, he keeps flip-flopping on whether or not he should go. On one hand, he’s curious about what it’s like—but on the other hand, does he really want to give that smug octopus his business??

… Eventually, Rollo gives into the temptation. He settles on an excuse to go while still protecting his ego and guilty conscience: I must survey his cafe to ensure that there are no misdeeds being committed… Who knows what sort of shading things may be happening without a watchful eye and regulations?

He goes through the mirror and emerges in the world wet and full of wonder. Down a corridor with glass walls, Rollo peers at the passing marine life with caution (as if they, too, were in on some scheme). For as peaceful as the bottom of the sea may be, he’s wary of the monsters that also lurk in its depths.

He follows the faint sound of smooth jazz to the lounge. Upon entering, Rollo finds it packed with mob students at every table, stuffing their mouths with food and filling the air with noisy chatter. He reluctantly wades over to the front desk, handkerchief to his face to keep himself strong in this dense den of depravity.

The suited host greets Rollo with a bow and a smile that feels a little too familiar. That immediately sends alarm bells ringing in his head. “Welcome to the Mostro Lounge, Rollo-san. Azul has been anticipating your arrival for quite some time.” (“… Has he now?” How positively shady!)

“We have a table specially reserved for you. Please, right this way.” He follows the host, not letting his eyes wander off his back for one second. To Rollo’s shock, he’s seated and handed a menu without any issues, then is left on his own to peruse. Odd. Given his other experiences at NRC, he was expecting some sort of unnecessary ruckus—

CRASH!! Right on cue, a mob student goes flying across the room and smacks right into a wall. A waiter with a face nearly identical to the host’s is the assailant. “C’mere!!” Floyd says coyly. His grin isn’t quite as coy—it’s maniacal. “I’ll squeeze the rest of the tip right outta you! That’ll teach ya to cheap out on us!”

Floyd advances on the frightened mob student, who is scrambling away on his hands and feet. Rollo blinks and rubs at his eyes, wondering if what he just saw was real or a figment of his imagination.

Jade is suddenly blocking his field of vision, wearing that same suspicious smile again. “Would you care for recommendations?" he asks, gesturing to the menu. "If you'll direct your attention here, this is our limited-time autumn menu. It features an assortment of freshly picked mushrooms..."

Rollo tries to get up or to crane his neck—anything to get a better look at whatever the pandemonium that Jade is trying to conceal is. Alas, the eel follows him like a shadow and expertly blocks all of his attempts (all while reciting the recommendations as he had promised earlier).

“Please keep your eyes on the menu, Rollo-san,” Jade advises patiently. “It will be difficult for you to decide which items you would like if your eyes are wandering to places they shouldn’t be. You must believe me when I say there is nothing of importance in this lounge but your own leisure.” (There’s a light chuckle that accompanies those words, and he doesn’t like it one bit.)

Rollo is forced to browse the menu (and forced to listen to Jade drone on and on about mushrooms). He’s appalled by the absurd pricing on the items (did the devil set them?)—even the simplest ones have huge markups!! But ultimately, he has to concede and opt for the overpriced plain dishes to appease his sensible palate. No indulgent dishes for him, no sir!

Jade doesn’t move until the conflict is settled; when he finally clears away with Rollo’s order for the kitchen, Floyd has finished “cleaning up” after the public nuisance. He casts a nonchalant look around the room and goes, “Hah? What’cha gawking at? Everybody go back to eating unless you wanna be next.”

“… That man just now, what happened to him?” Rollo speaks up—not that he would ever defend the scum of NRC, but he has a thing or two to say about the way the problem was handled. At least air the dirty laundry in private.

“Ehhh, who’s askin’? I don’t have to answer to anyone!” Oh no, Floyd’s eyes have lit up like those of a cat that has spotted new prey. “Hehehe, I know exaaactly who you are! Azul’s special guest guppy…!” (“Everyone and their brother seems to know,” Rollo grumbles.)

He’s unnerved by the way Floyd’s grinning—as though he knows something that Rollo doesn’t—so he quickly drops the question and shoos the eel off. Unfortunately, Floyd keeps returning to his table to annoy him with little disturbances: offering a refill on water (which sloshes all over the table), asking if he wants straws or napkins (then chucking a handful of them at him), calling him by the wrong name (which Rollo makes sure to correct), etc.

… Rollo’s starting to believe Floyd is doing all of this to purposefully annoy him. (He has to resort to taking deep breathing exercises and mutter various peaceful mantras to keep himself from lashing out at the waiter.)

Rollo never thought he’d be thinking this, but the other twin is his savior from the hell that is dealing with Floyd. In comes Jade with his order, which contains many more items than Rollo recalls ordering. Many of them are extravagant and arranged on ornate china platters. “On the house from the manager,” Jade explains, setting the heavy tray down. “I will leave you to enjoy your meal. Come along, Floyd.”

The twins skitter off, leaving Rollo to his own devices. He takes a second to decompress from the stressful encounter with the Leeches—and when Rollo thinks about it, he doesn’t mind the atmosphere of this place. It’s quiet and calming, with a classy yet understated look to the lounge itself and its staff. Maybe it’s not so bad after all.

He places a napkin in his lap before beginning on the feast, taking care to carve everything into more digestible chunks before nibbling at them. Of course, Rollo doesn't plan on gorging himself (there's no way he could finish all of this!), but he doesn't want to be wasteful either. Perhaps a healthy compromise would be to take the rest to-go and eat the leftovers over the course of a week.

As he's in the middle of mentally plotting out his next meals, the entire lounge unexpectedly darkens. Gasps and cries of surprise ring out from the mob students. Then a blinding spotlight appears in the middle of the room, and Rollo almost chokes on his buttered bread roll.

Azul is illuminated by the spotlight. He throws his arms out in a friendly gesture, beaming out to his captive audience. “Gentlemen! It is with great pride and pleasure that we of the Mostro Lounge welcome you to this special evening. Please sit back, relax, and enjoy your meals and conversations set against a calming backdrop of the sea’s melody.”

Their performance begins: Azul on the grand piano, Jade on contrabass, and Floyd on drums. Rollo wants to detest it, but he can’t bring himself to. If he closes his eyes and wills his mind elsewhere, the opening notes envelop him and soothe his weariness, like waves washing away his fatigue and stress.

“I’d like to dedicate this song to a very special guest,” Azul announces, “to our visitor from the City of Flowers, Student Council President of Noble Bell College, and, of course, our dearest friend, Rollo Flamme-san! May the bond between us and our schools be ever stronger.”

His eyes fly wide open. The spotlight drastically swivels, the bright, hot lights suddenly on him. This time, Rollo really does choke on his bread.

He downs what he can of his meal as quickly as he can, wanting to slap some money on the table and to be out before Azul can embarrass him further. That crafty octopus has planned for this though—none of the mob students stop by to give his check, locking Rollo in a social circumstance where he has to stay put (or else be labelled as a dine-and-dasher, a criminal).

He sits there quietly coping and seething for the entirety of the performance. The calm waters the music once provided has suddenly turned scalding. Rollo’s gaze seemingly burns holes in the Octatrio as they finally (FINALLY!) wrap up and bow for their audience.

Azul and the twins then make their way to Rollo. Were it not for the booth itself, there was no doubt in Rollo’s mind that they would be circling him like sharks. Jade and Leech stand on either side of them while Azul clasps Rollo’s shoulders in an overly familiar way (it makes his skin crawl).

Before he get a word out edge-wise or demand for the check, Azul declares, “Our dear Rollo-san just so happens to be Mostro Lounge’s 10,000th customer!! As such, he has won himself a most generous prize: one free consultation with yours truly! A round of applause for him, everyone.”

The applause kicks up, and Rollo’s head is spinning from confusion at Azul’s ludicrous statement. He doesn’t have the luxury of fully processing what it could mean or what his true intentions are—Jade has looped one arm under his, and Floyd has seized the other.

What is the matter with these two?! When I said I was interested in a visit to the on-campus cafe, never did imagine I would be accosted by thuggish men during it!!

“Release me!! Unhand me!!” Rollo roars, flailing his limbs uselessly as the twins drag him off to one of the back rooms. The mob students avert their gazes, pretending as if they don’t see him—they’re unwilling to get involved themselves. “IS THIS HOW NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE OPERATES?!”

Into Azul’s office he’s ushered, seated before the proverbial mob boss himself. Crossing his legs and lacing his fingers together, Azul calls for Jade to fetch tea. Floyd lazily flops onto an adjacent seat and drapes his limbs all over it.

“Rollo-san, it’s been so long! We must catch up before getting down to business,” Azul croons. His voice is disgustingly sweet and slimy, caked on thick. “Tell me, how have you been? How are you finding our fair school? I’m all ears.”

“Don’t act as though we are friendly. Nothing could be further from the truth.” Rollo makes a face, concealing his grimace of disapproval with his handkerchief—Azul spots it and his eyes glimmer with recognition. “I’ve seen through your ruse, you miscreants. I won’t be deceived by the likes of you and your minions.”

“Oh? And what, pray tell, are the misdeeds you suspect on our part?” Azul asks innocently.

Jade places a fresh cup of tea in front of their guest, then Azul. The steam rising from the cups shrouds their faces in a curtain of faint white, obscuring both truth and lies. Floyd is on the edge of his seat, waiting for a good brawl to break out. Jade joins him, matching his deranged grin. (All they’re missing is the popcorn.)

“… I thought it odd that you would be ‘anticipating’ my arrival and that you would go to the trouble of preparing to receive me. Trying to win my favor with free food and a show, it’s clear you were trying to butter me up for something.”

“Me? Butter you up? Never,” Azul insists, but his smile is a little too wide. “I only wish to help you, to deepen the relationship between ourselves and of our respective schools. Networking and making useful—oh, excuse me, I mean deep—connections is important for young adults.”

Azul bows elegantly. “… I offer you my services, Rollo-san. Speak your heart’s desire, and I shall see if I can make it a reality. In return, I expect a favor, should I happen to call upon you. We will also serve as each other’s contacts for our own schools. You see? It is a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Rollo instantly sees what he is: the devil looking to make a deal. The twins with their razor sharp teeth, his hellish imps seeking free amusement.

He stands, fists clenched, expression enraged, and lets nasty words torrent out. “You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m open to negotiating any sort of terms with you. You’d be better off propositioning someone with fewer brain cells. Maybe start with your dopey-eyed classmates before you attempt at seducing something out of me.”

The thing he wished for more than anything else… that was something no one could make a reality. The best he could hope for was some form of retribution—retribution that Rollo sought to bring about with his own hands. He would never be able to live it down if he entrusted his ambitions to someone else, let alone a nefarious mage. Soon, brother. Soon, I will bring about a fairer world in your name—a world without magic, without sin, without suffering…!!

“I understand.” Azul nods, accepting Rollo’s decision, but doesn’t totally back down. He offers a rectangular angluar cut of paper. “My card. If you ever wish to have your woes be heard, you know how to reach me.”

Rollo snatches it out of his hand and crushes it. He storms out without another word, crumpled business card still in his grasp.

“How unfortunate that Rollo-san did not take the bait,” Jade sighs. (“It was funny watching his face twist though,” Floyd cackles, flopping over in his chair.)

“No matter.” Azul says with a shrug. “I foresaw this from the very beginning—which is exactly why we took precautionary measures to ensure that we still earned something from his appearance at all. Isn’t that right, boys?”

They smirked at each other knowingly. Everything had been carefully calculated from the moment Rollo had stepped onto campus. The big show they had put on, the loud declaration to the lounge and its customers… “Our dear Rollo-san just so happens to be Mostro Lounge’s 10,000th customer!! As such, he has won himself a most generous prize: one free consultation with yours truly!” (That had been a convenient lie, made up for the whole publicity stunt.)

All of it was an elaborate pretense for one explicit purpose: to plant a seed of suggestion in the other customers’ heads. A free consultation for the 10,000th customer? Then perhaps they could be the next lucky man to be the 20,000th one. More incentive to return, more lines skewered with tasty bait, cast out into the sea of waiting customers.

“Fufufu, another excellent job well done, if I do say so myself.”

While Azul and the twins are gloating in private, Rollo has made his way to the first fireplace he can find. He furiously casts Azul’s accursed business cards into the flames, relishing the moment it turns entirely black and ashen. No, Rollo swears to himself. He won’t be swayed by the devil. He was made stronger than that.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Angel of Small Death

Part 3 of my Halloween mini series!

Dark Priest! Billy Russo, Dark Priest!Matt Murdock, Dark! Frank Castle

Warnings: Blasphemy, kissing.

You take two steps towards the altar, before stopping in your tracks.

“At all?” You ask.

“No, nothing,” Father Murdock answers, “Only a few bits and pieces of our time together, but he has no recollection of his childhood.”

The pain in your chest is searing.

“I see.” You answer.

“It's possible, it may come back with time, it's too soon to tell. Perhaps visiting him regularly might help. Though, if he grows agitated or violent, don't hesitate to come find me.”

You nod, studying his face unabashedly. 

He holds a stoic expression, before the realisation hits you that he can't see you.

“Um, yes, Father Murdock.”

The corner of his mouth twitches.

“Please, when we are alone, you can call me Matthew.”

“Okay… Matthew.” You murmur, feeling something cold trace it's way down your spine.

“I hope we can find a way to work with each other once I am Abbott.”

You blink, surprised, a sliver of dread passing through your body.

You want to protest, as if anyone would vote a stranger into such a position, but you find a way to hold your tongue, smiling at him, though he can't see it.

“I hope so too, Matthew.” You say evenly, before you excuse yourself to carry out your duties.

.

There's a knock on your door.

You sit up in bed, grabbing your robe and swiftly tying it around you, you call out in question.

“Hello?”

“It’s me.”

You reach for the latch, unlocking and pulling open the door to find Billy, dressed in loose fitting fabrics, looking down at you with glassy eyes.

“What is it?” Heavy concern in your voice.

“I can’t sleep, I keep trying to remember you. Can we go for a walk?” He asks.

It’s the middle of the night, but you nod, grabbing a scarf to throw over your head to protect your hair.

You take the back exit, so that no one can hear your footsteps and open their doors curiously and find a man where a man definitely shouldn’t be. You didn’t even understand how he ended up at your door undetected in the first place.

“For future reference, if you get caught in the women’s dormitories, you will be excommunicated from this place.” You say softly, giving him a rueful smile.

He inclines his head, but makes no apology.

You choose to walk the more isolated path, not wanting anyone to catch sight of you with Billy alone at night. Your robe was long, down to your shins, but beneath it you were only wearing your cotton chemise that barely touched your knees.

“How long was I at the monastery before leaving?” He asks first.

You blink, remembering what he had told you.

“You came when you were seven. Your mother had sold you for opioids, and when the woman that was taking care of you died, her husband passed you off to the monks here.” You spare a glance at him before you continue speaking.

“I arrived when I was fourteen, and we became friends before you left at eighteen. I haven’t seen you since that day, until now.”

“Did I- at least write you letters?”

“Only for a few months, but after that, no, nothing.”

You glance up at the moon, full, in all its glory, illuminating the path you've taken, through the trees, towards the cemetery.

“But you… we were close?”

You nod, “As close as two people of the opposite sex could get in a place like this.” 

He pauses, looks at you for a long moment. You smile patiently.

“I keep dreaming of you.” 

“Of our past?”

He shakes his head.

“Of you, now. Ever since I woke up and saw you, there's just been this pull, and I'm trying to figure out if it's always been there.”

You shake your head.

“I couldn't tell you.” You answer honestly.

You feel something inside of you flutter, that he might have felt the same way you did, all those years ago.

He turns, and continues walking, and you follow.

Tonight wasn't too cold, the robe wrapped around you was keeping you warm, but the stillness of the cemetery was starting to get to you.

This was supposed to be a holy place, a final resting area for the dead, but you had this odd feeling of being watched as you moved through the tombstones, passing the occasional crypt.

At the centre of the cemetery, you come upon an old stone gazebo, a statue of an angel posed in the middle.

“This place… I've been here before.” Billy murmurs, stepping in.

You feel your heart squeeze in your chest, looking at his back as he steps in, tilting his head in confusion.

You didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to tell him about here, and the small mistakes you made together.

He turns, studying you, and you drop your head to study the stone floor in the dim moonlight.

“Tell me.” Billy says, determination in his voice.

“Tell you what?” You whisper.

“What happened here?” 

You swallow, shaking your head.

“Nothing.” You answer.

“You're lying to me.”

“I'm not.”

He huffs, raises his hands to press them to either side of his head.

He looks distressed, and you feel your throat squeeze, you reach forward to take his hands into yours.

“The truth is that I liked you, way more than you liked me, and you left, and you stopped writing, and you moved on to better, godlier things, and so did I. That’s the truth.”

He shakes his head violently.

“Then why do I feel like this for you? If you really meant nothing- why?”

Your breath halts in your chest before you speak.

“What do you feel?”

He stills, opens his eyes with determination in them, his hands squeezing yours, holding you in place.

“Like every vow I’ve ever made is worth breaking for you.” 

You gasp, leaning away but he doesn’t let you.

“You shouldn’t be talking like this.” You say calmly.

He blinks, tilting his head.

“I’m only telling you the truth,” He takes a step forward, and you back up in response, “Am I not allowed to speak my truth?”

Your body responds to his proximity, the darkness around you making you feel hidden. Your back bumps against the statue of the angel.

“B- Father Russo-”

“-Don’t pretend that we haven’t done what we’ve done. You’ve matured too much to deny these things.”

You suck in a deep breath, watching as he raises a hand to push your veil off of your head. He grips a lock of your hair, admiring the feel of it between your fingers.

Your lips part as his fingers trace their way behind your neck, he uses his thumb to tilt your head upwards.

“The scent of your perfume fills my senses.” He whispers, quoting Solomon to you right as he presses his lips to yours.

You raise your hands, pressing them against his chest, hesitating as his kiss deepens.

The response of your mouth is reflexive, it comes from somewhere deep inside you, kissing him eagerly the way your body demands.

“Your lips are as sweet as honey.” He quotes again, kissing your jaw, and then down, over your neck.

It’s unlike anything, your head tips back to allow him access, a burning between your thighs that demands more, demands your acknowledgement.

His hands undo your robe, opening it up to press his palms to each side of your ribs, sliding up to cup your breasts. You gasp when his thumbs brush your already peaked nipples, a sweet, tingling pleasure works its way over your skin.

His mouth is hot on your chest, tongue darting out and it reminds you- of a few days ago when you’d been in a similar position with a different man.

You gasp, pushing him back with all your strength. Billy pauses, a solemn expression on his face, his eyes dropping to eye your body through the open robe.

You huff, reaching to tie your robe shut.

“I’ll excuse your actions, because I think that head injury has clouded your judgement. But you shouldn’t do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and you pause, your anger being washed away by sympathy, “I’m just so confused all the time, and my thoughts are so fractured.”

He shakes his head.

“The only time I have a clear thought is when I’m thinking of you. I’m sorry, please- please don’t hate me.”

You frown, feeling for him, you reach out, wrapping your arms around him securely. You feel his hand rise to stroke your hair.

“It’ll be okay.” You soothe, your body tingling with the ghost of his touch.

.

.

.

[it-happened-one-fic]

Loneliness - Ayato

Author Notes: This is one of those things I have weirdly powerful feelings on. I've always felt like, no matter how busy he was, Ayato would never neglect his partner. I really can't say why I have such powerful feelings and thoughts on this matter, but they are most certainly the sole inspiration of this fic. As per usual, reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ does this count as pining/ established relationship/ light angst with comfort

Word count: 1107

I sighed, slipping into Ayato’s office and setting down off to the side. And I felt ridiculous. 

We’d both been going about our work for most of the day as we usually did, and yet I was suddenly struck with an intense pang of loneliness. It had already been the better part of the day, and I’d only really seen him at mealtimes.

And now here I was. Behaving like a child and slipping quietly into his office to be near him without actually having the courage to tell him what was wrong.

I eased myself into a seated position in the corner of the room, doing my best not to disturb him as I busied myself with the book I’d brought with me. But my mind wasn’t truly on the words that scrolled across the page, welcoming me to pay attention to them rather than the thoughts that swirled frustratingly through my mind. Reminding me of how ridiculous this really was. 

Because here I was, a grown person, yet seemingly unable to keep myself busy without falling prey to such powerful loneliness. 

It wasn’t like I was all alone after all. Ayato was in the house, and so were Ayaka and Thoma. It was just that we were each going about our own work, just like we always did.

So why on earth did I suddenly miss him so badly?

It was utterly childish to feel this way, and I felt myself frowning at my book. Trying in vain not to make my feelings obvious. Because then I would just be bothering him.

Ayato was busy and had important work to do. He was the Yashiro Commissioner after all. His actions directly affected the country of Inazuma, and he served as an example to everyone with even an ounce of power.

And on top of that, he was also the head of the Kamisato Clan, which only increased his duties and the importance of him being able to get his work done. Me being needy would just be one more thing for him to deal with. 

In the end, I really shouldn’t have even come into his office since I could easily bother him.

“And what seems to be the matter?” I looked up, all but peeking over my book at the young man who stood in front of me. Looking down at my kneeling person with a smile.

He’d spotted me in record time and had abandoned his work in favor of checking in on me with stealthiness that made me wonder if he’d been a ninja in a past life.

 But Ayato knew perfectly well that my coming in here while he was working was an obvious sign that something was up.

I shut my book carefully, letting it rest on my lap as I looked up at him, smiling calmly as if nothing were out of the ordinary, “Nothing.”

The lie slipped out immediately, even though iI really didn’t know why I felt the strange need to lie. It was just that somehow, and for some reason, I didn’t want to tell him why I was in here. And it was silly, because even if Ayato teased me, I knew he would listen and accept my words.

He knelt in front of me, his sleeves puddling on the ground, looking calmly at me as he tilted his head in an oddly knowing fashion, “I can’t help if you don’t talk to me.”

I faltered at his words, realizing far too late that I never should have tried to hide something from Ayato of all people. Being perceptive was practically his job.

I still shook my head though, my smile shrinking as I looked away from him, “It’s silly.” 

Wry amusement crept into my voice as I spoke, half-confessing to my own childishness.

Out of my peripheral vision, I could see him shake his head, somehow staying patient with me despite my behavior, even though I couldn’t find it in me to be patient with myself, “If it’s bothering you, then it isn’t silly.” 

I sighed at his words, finding myself surrendering a little bit too easily to him, “I just felt lonely all of a sudden, and I missed you, so I came in here. That’s all.”

My admission was soft as I looked back towards him, but his frown was almost immediate. It was a small expression, but a genuine one. 

Ayato’s poker face usually consisted of a polite smile unless he was dealing with a particularly weighty situation where a smile simply wouldn’t do.

He held my gaze, his light purple eyes focusing solely on me as he spoke, “And… Is this a common thing?”

I felt myself smile as I shook my head, reassuring him gently, even despite the atmosphere that had gradually turned more weighty, “No. If it were, I would’ve said something.”

He nodded, but the frown remained on his face, and I knew what was causing it. It was the reason why I’d immediately started scolding myself for coming in here.

 No matter how important his work was, Ayato would always put those dear to him first. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that number included myself.

I was still smiling, though sadly, as I continued, “I’m sorry. I knew you were busy and I didn’t want to bother you, but-”

He shook his head immediately, his tone turning more firm, “You aren’t bothering me. Your needs could never be a bother.”

His frown deepened slightly as he looked down at where he’d now taken my hands, his voice dropping so that I had to lean forward to hear his next words, “I’m only sorry that you think that could be the case.”

His head slowly lifted so that he was gazing back at me once more, “You can always come to me when something’s bothering you. No matter how inconsequential it may seem to you and no matter what I am working on.”

His grip tightened slightly on my hands as he finished, affirming what I already knew, “You will always be more important than my work, Y/n.”

I nodded, my voice coming out small. Like I couldn’t get any volume with all the emotions swirling through me at his honest, kind words, “I know, Ayato. I know…”

I smiled almost feebly at him, and he nodded, a slight smile of his own appearing on his face before he pulled me towards him and into a hug. causing me to melt slightly as I leaned against him.

To think I could feel lonely when there was a man like this by my side.

[xxxsharpcheddar]

Pt. 1: first flight

Idk I was feeling super mushy so I wrote this in like 3 hours lol soft BHM/FFA fiction…should I continue it?

First time flying in two years…and back then it was a squeeze. Determined not to embarrass myself, I called ahead.

“TWO tickets?”

“Yes, sir. But there’s no guarantee the second seat won’t be sold if it’s a particularly full flight.”

I gulped and hesitated. “Okay…so that means I’m paying for a seat I might not get?”

“That’s correct.” Not a hint of sympathy in her voice.

What other choice did I have? “Okay, then. I guess I’ll take the window and middle seat. Oh, and I’ll probably need a seatbelt extender.” Even saying the words made my face flush. I can’t believe I’d let myself get like this. The voice on the other end of the phone either sighed, coughed, or stifled a laugh. I couldn’t be sure which, and I didn’t exactly want to know.

My alarm fades out as I desperately want to hit snooze. I get up, wash my face, and try to keep my anxiety at bay. It’s going to be fine. I got TWO seats. I won’t bother anyone. I put on a little extra deodorant in between my folds and under my moobs. A little cologne for good measure and a crisp shirt. I don’t want people to think I’m some sort of lazy, unkempt slob. I actually really care about my appearance. My face stays neatly shaven, my hair styled, and clothes - when I can find them in my size - are reasonably tasteful. My glasses frames are updated each year in an attempt to elevate my look, or at least take people’s glances away from other parts.

At the airport, I grab a bagel and a coffee, then wait as close to the line as I can to board. Don’t panic. You’re going to fit. Everything’s going to be fine. It’s a short flight, anyways. A mantra I’ve begun to chant in my head as the boarding process begins. I offer a smile to the man who scans my barcode for two tickets and he looks up for the second passenger.

“Oh, uh, it’s just for me.” He acknowledges by nodding me over to continue boarding. I practically hold my breath as I wedge myself between the aisle. Most people brace their carry ons, but I have to brace myself.

Thankfully, no one is in my row, otherwise they’d have to get up to let me through. I plop down and immediately appreciate the forethought to buy two seats. I’m positively squished between the plane wall and armrest.

“Um, excuse me?” Fuck. I look up.

“Are those your bags? Do you want me to put them up here?

“Uh, I’m actually supposed to have this seat.” I try to speak just loud enough for her to hear and no other passengers. She glances down at her phone and back up.

“23 B?” My face flushes as I realize what’s happened. They’ve given up my seat.

“I-I’m so sorry,” I stutter, utterly embarrassed. “I was supposed to…They weren’t supposed to -“ The line behind her grew and we were drawing attention.

“That’s okay! Here,” she reached for my bag and in a daze, I handed it to her. She was so short she couldn’t get it in the overhead compartment all the way and I wanted to disappear. She scooted in and I tried leaning as far as I could into the wall, my side squishing into her armrest. At that moment, I realized I forgot to ask for the seatbelt extender. My ears started ringing and I desperately wanted to get off this flight.

“I’m so sorry…” I began, but she cut me off.

“For what? Don’t apologize.” She finished shoving her bag under her seat and smiled at me.

An older gentleman plopped down next to her and scowled at me. I looked down as he muttered something I was grateful I couldn’t understand. Fuck. How am I going to get the extender now?

“Um, excuse me?” I leaned over slightly to look at the man who’d just joined our row. I’d just about rather die than have to move. He looked up.

“I’m sorry, but I have to get up.”

The man scowled. “Ugh, shouldn’t they have weight limits on these things?” My heart dropped.

“Wow, that was rude.” The girl beside me said pointedly and the man scoffed. I tried to sink down and away into my chair, my face hot with embarrassment.

“I tried to buy two seats…” I began and the girl cut me off.

“You don’t owe him an explanation. He just wants an excuse to be miserable,” the girl turned and whispered to me. I tried to smile but felt like my lip might quiver, so I mouthed “thank you.”

“Everything okay over here?” A slim flight attendant asked, primarily to me.

“Uh, yeah. I-I think I need a…” I tried gesturing to the seatbelt so I wouldn’t have to say it out loud, but she looked puzzled. I gulped, feeling my heart rate rise and willing myself to stop sweating.

“An extender” it was barely audible, but the guy two seats away looked at me with disgust and shook his head. The flight attendant nodded and retreated to find one. I looked out the window so I could get my emotions in check.

“You okay?” The girl whispered. Thank God she was small, otherwise I’d be squishing her.

I nodded, fearing my voice might crack, and swallowed hard. “Thank you.”

“People can be so unkind.” The tenderness in her voice allowed me to look up and I offered her the best smile I could muster up.

The flight attendant came back with the extender and explained how to connect it. I did it as quickly as possible and willed the plane to take off.

The girl made polite conversation with me which calmed my nerves a bit.

“Are you on the connecting flight or stopping at Atlanta?”

“Connecting flight.”

“Cool. I’m sorry they gave up your seat.”

“It’s okay. It sucks that I’m out of the money, though.” I admitted.

“That’s so fucked up. Sorry, messed up. So you paid for two seats but only got one?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, if you get stuck in the same position next flight, I’d be happy to be your seat buddy again.”

I shook my head, “oh, no. That’s very kind of you, but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable the whole trip.” Secretly, I was terrified of getting sat next to someone who wasn’t as kind as her.

“I’m not uncomfortable at all. Plus, you’d be doing me a favor. I get nervous on planes sometimes and it’s nice to talk to someone.” She smiled reassuringly and I almost believed her.

“Sorry, what was your name?”

“Oh, Leslie! Nice to meet you…?”

“Ian,” I smiled, a bit more sincerely this time.

We kept talking and I tried not making it obvious how squished I was between her armrest, but you could easily tell.

“Do you want to move that?” She asked after I’d wiggled around a bit.

“Oh, no. It’s fine.”

“It won’t bother me, but I can’t promise I won’t fall asleep on you.” I felt my face flush and let out a laugh.

“Are you sure?”

“Here,” she raised it for me and my fat immediately pooled out. I looked away, embarrassed. Thank God it still wasn’t touching her, by some miracle. I glanced at her and she had looked away as well. Fuck.

“Sorry” I muttered.

“It’s okay.” She placed her hand on my thigh just above my knee and I felt my breath hitch. She was just being nice.

“Thanks,” I looked out the window and she moved her hand away.

Several minutes later, she had fallen asleep on me. She wasn’t kidding. I tried not to move as I rummaged through my bag for my AirPods. She stirred and jerked up.

“I’m sorry!”

“It’s okay. I don’t mind. I was trying not to wake you.”

“I’m sure you don’t mind a random stranger sleeping on you,” she chuckled and I grinned in response. “If I fall asleep again, can you wake me when they come by with the snacks?”

“Of course.”

In about 30 minutes, the snack carts came out so I gently nudged Leslie who’d fallen asleep on me again.

“Sorry,” she yawned sleepily. “Thanks for waking me.”

“No problem.”

“Hey, want to get a wine with me?”

“Won’t that make you sleepier?”

“Maybe! Who knows?”

“Two cabernets, please.” She held out her card and I protested.

“No, I got it.” I fumbled for my wallet.

“I insist,” and she handed her card to the flight attendant.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. I invited you to day drink with me. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you.”

The plane lands and most people eagerly stand up. I wait behind, definitely not eager to bump into anyone. Leslie stands and asks if we can walk to the gate together so we can board the connecting flight together, and I’m extremely grateful.

“Sure.” When most of the people have left, Leslie scoots out and waits for me. I don’t want her to see me struggle to get out of my seat, but it’s inevitable. “I gotta lose some weight,” I try to laugh it off, but I must be a pretty pathetic sight, wobbling and shifting myself over the seats in order to get into the aisle.

She doesn’t respond and I regret pointing out my size, but she still waits as I reach for my bag. Before slinging it down, I notice her staring where my shirt should be covering my stomach, but considering the reaching, it might have ridden up. My face flushes and I throw my bag over my shoulder as quickly as I can, letting Leslie go first.

“Hungry?”

“Oh, no…I just had a bagel.” But I was hungry, and I would be before the next flight.

“We have about an hour before boarding. Maybe we should get something to go for the plane?”

I considered it. “Sure, whatever you want.”

The only respectable restaurant was a shitty Ruby Tuesdays and we decided to eat in. I was able to wedge myself into the booth but it was tight.

“Here, why don’t we move to the bar?” Leslie asked, noticing the tight space.

“Oh no, I don’t mind…”

“You don’t have to be uncomfortable.” She stated.

I thought over my words carefully and explained “I’m just not sure I’ll fit there, either.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Do you want to try? I’ll keep our seat here.”

“Um, sure.” I hefted my weight and tried to keep my cool. The bar stools didn’t have armrests which was a blessing. It was still difficult to fit, but it was better than the booth. I came back to grab our bags and she thanked me, following me to the bar.

“You know, you don’t have to do this. I really appreciate it but I’m okay.” She frowned.

“I like this. I like getting to know you. I’d rather hang out with you than wait alone.” She was so sweet. “Want another drink?”

“Sure.”

We continued talking and I forgot why I was ever anxious in the first place. We ordered another round and I could tell she was starting to feel it. I was getting a little uncomfortable when her glances started going towards my body, so I reached into my bag and pulled over a hoodie. Did she…frown?

“You’re really hard to read,” I confessed.

“How so?” She propped herself up on her elbow and looked at me quizzically.

“I don’t know,” I shook my head. “I just don’t get you.” She smiled coyly.

“I’m an enigma,” she stated with jazz hands for added flair.

“Well, I’m enjoying myself a lot more than I was earlier, so thank you.”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me and apologizing. I’m equally enjoying it.” She placed her hand on my thigh and I realized I’d been bouncing my leg anxiously for who knows how long. I didn’t know what to make of her. Friendly, sweet, kind, adorable. Now I have another reason for not wanting to get on the plane…I don’t want this to end.

Leslie orders some appetizers to share and an entree for herself. I try to choose something moderately healthy, so I stick to the grilled chicken sandwich.

“Here, try” she pushes over her appetizer plates to me and I take small bites.

“They’re good.”

“Have more,” she begins forking them onto my plate.

“Whoa, no, that’s okay,” I try to protest but she’s in the middle of loading up my plate.

“I won’t finish them,” she counters, and I oblige, trying not to make a pig of myself.

I try not to eat everything to save face, despite my obvious physique that says I likely have never turned down food before. I order another drink and Leslie is practically staring at me now. I shift uncomfortably in my seat and try sucking in my belly.

“You’re full?”

“Oh, um yeah.”

“We shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

“You ordered them,” I remind her.

“Pleaseeeee,” she’s tipsy now and there’s something in her eyes I can’t quite pinpoint.

“Really?” I laugh. “Why do you want me to finish these? Why not just save them for later?”

“Because you’ll be hungry later, too.”

“Bold of you to assume.” I counter.

“Is it though?” I don’t think she intended malice, but the words sting a little.

“I’m sorry, I just…I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I’m sorry, that was dumb.” She covered her face with her hands.

“It’s okay.“ I pause. She doesn’t say anything. It’s quiet besides her fork scraping against the plate.

“I just, I’m sorry I’m so awkward,” she sighed. “I think you’re really cute.”

I stop mid-bite. “What?” Garbled by the food in my mouth.

She covers her face with her hands again.

I finish swallowing, heart pounding in my chest. “Really?”

“Yes really. I thought I’d made it obvious. I was so nervous.” She confessed.

It took me a second to compute. It made sense. The quick glances, an excuse to put her hand on my leg, insisting on buying my wine.

“It’s so cute when you do that.”

“Do what?”

“You blush.” I could feel my cheeks burning even brighter. We were sitting so close to each other I could smell the sweet rosé on her breath.

She leaned in closer. “You’re seriously so handsome.” I think my heart leapt into my throat and I had to swallow it down. Was this happening?

The bartender interrupted and asked if we wanted to close out, which we did. It gave me a moment to gain my composure.

“You don’t think I’m too…big?” I was afraid to ask. She shook her head and barely audibly answered “I like bigger guys.” Holy shit.

We had to run to our gate and we were both giddy. I offered her my hand and she took it, two wildly different strangers running through an airport together. “I booked two seats…” I explained as they checked my boarding pass and Leslie chimed in “I don’t mind sitting next to him if it’s a full flight. I’m 18 A.”

“Thanks, looks like you might have to. Hang tight.”

“You can give my seat to someone else.” She insisted and the boarding director looked at me and I shrugged.

“Alright, miss,” and he scanned all three tickets.

“I’ll go first to make sure there’s enough room.” Wow. My anxiety was no match for her.

“Excuse me, ‘scuse us,” she’d loudly announce when people’s bags were in my way. I was beyond grateful. We took our seats and I thanked her.

“No more thanking me!” And she pulled her armrest up.

“I’m so cold.”

“Here,” I peeled off my hoodie and felt the cool air hit my stomach when my shirt rode up. “I’m sure it’s way too big, but -“

“Thank you.” She eagerly accepted it and draped it over her, cuddling into me. My heart thudded obnoxiously in my chest.

“Is this okay?” She asked timidly.

“Of course,” I placed an arm around her. Whoever gets sat next to us would probably think we’re a couple on vacation, and I loved that. It was an older, middle aged woman with a smug expression on her face. She first looked at me and practically grimaced. Leslie noticed and placed her arm around my stomach where my waistline would be if it wasn’t covered in fat. I got chills.

It was the tiny nuances that she noticed. How I could use some help maneuvering the aisle, when someone made a comment or just gave a look of disapproval. She was trying to offset it, remind me that I’m not as despicable as they act like I am. Like I’m not a huge waste of space, an eyesore, an inconvenience.

“This is nice.” She sighed into me, arm still wrapped around me.

“So nice,” I agree. She rhythmically rubs her thumb over my stomach and I get goosebumps. I don’t think I’ve ever been touched like this. Sure, I’ve been in relationships and had a couple hookups, but no one ever wanted to touch my body. It was a foreign feeling to have someone actually want to. She looked so small, especially next to me.

“We barely know each other and look at us,” I whispered. She looked up at me excitedly.

“Let’s get to know each other. What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue, yours?”

“Mine too! Favorite food?”

“Anything,” I snickered. “Can you tell?”

“Ha, ha. Alright, how tall are you?”

“Six foot, you?”

“Holy shit. Guess.”

“Hmm, 5’2?”

“Nope. Five foot.”

“Five feet?! That’s it?”

She nodded, stifling a laugh. We were quiet for a little, the hum of the plane and alcohol making us sleepy.

“I really like this.”

“Me too.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. I didn’t want the plane to take off. I wanted to sit with her like this forever.

[joshsindigostreak]

I See Hell in Your Eyes

Chapter Seven

“Our hearts are wrong.”

Josh Kiszka x Vampire!Reader

Authors Note: A CHRISTMAS MIRACLE!!! So sorry for the delays y’all working retail around the holidays is absolute Hell. Enjoy this little chapter before we begin the new year with the *real* plot of this little universe. Buckle up.

Word Count: 4778

Warnings: Violence, death, mentions of past abuse (but it is very brief and not dwelled on), SMUT at the end but nothing too graphic or crazy.

The emotions you felt as Josh drove the both of you to the location Jake texted him were conflicting. Part of you was annoyed that you didn’t get to curl up in your bed with your hunter after that shower, another part of you loved how cozy you felt in his car; hand secured on your thigh. But another part of you, the loudest part, was reminding you of your reality. If Jake was telling the truth, and he indeed caught whomever in the act, that would mean Josh would be one step closer in closing his case. The hypotheticals of what would happen after that case was closed taunted you. The only reason he showed up in your city was to find the Vampire in question and get rid of them. Once that happened, there would be nothing tying him to the city anymore. He could pack all of his things in the very Jeep you were sitting in, and drive back west with his family. He could go back to his everyday life, get assigned another “job” and take off for the next adventure.

But what about you?

Josh could feel the muscles in your thigh tensing as you battled your own thoughts, and his thumb rubbed circles into your skin. He glanced over at you curiously, wishing he could know what you were thinking. You were absently staring out the window, brows furrowing every other minute as if you were arguing with yourself. He too, was a little miffed your little rendezvous at your apartment was cut short due to his twin.

“Hey,” he broke the silence, his voice soft, “where do you keep going, over there?”

You shook your head slightly, braving a smile at him, “nowhere…just tired.”

He wasn’t fully convinced, but didn’t want to argue, “well, after we finish seeing Jake’s little show-and-tell we can go back to your place and you can show me how cozy that bed nook of yours is before sunrise…”

Your mouth tilted up into a smirk, “are you becoming nocturnal for me, Boy Scout?”

This caught him off guard, was he? He let out a breath through his nose and disguised it with a chuckle. He squeezed your thigh again, smiling as he felt the muscles in your leg relax.

It didn’t take long to reach the street corner Jake had texted Josh; a narrow side street with one way traffic. You looked around to see how many people were on the street, and were relieved when it was practically deserted at this time of night. As Josh parked next to the curb, a very impatient looking Jake stepped out from an alley between the two main buildings on the block.

“Took you long enough,” he said, rolling his eyes as you exited the vehicle.

“We’re here, aren’t we?”

Jake opened his mouth to argue more, but stopped and huffed out, “just…come on.” He turned on his heel to lead the two of you back into the alley he had just come from. It was fairly empty as far as alley’s go, but what hit you as you followed Jake was the smell of human blood. The scent was so strong you quickly pinpointed it to be O Positive, and that there was a lot of it. Your gums itched at the smell, and you were thankful you had topped yourself off with a blood bag before you left your apartment. Josh had volunteered to help you, but you refused as you still felt it was too soon since the incident at the Den.

The scene that unfolded before you, as Jake led you further down the alley, shouldn’t have shocked you as much as it did, but it stopped you in your tracks. Leaning up against the brick wall was a man appearing to be in his forties, maybe late thirties, with a substantial wound on the side of his neck. Blood was pouring out of him quickly, staining his clothes and starting to puddle next to him. CiCi was crouched down next to him, mumbling what you thought were spells under her breath, trying to heal him. The man didn’t have much time at all, but the only thing to give him a chance was if he drank some of your blood.

Shaking off your nerves, and trying to control how you felt around that much blood, you quickly moved around Jake and crouched down on the other side of him. With a brief look at your hunter, you bit down onto the flesh of your wrist, breaking the skin over the veins and tendons. CiCi backed out of the way, realizing what you were doing. Quickly but gently you took the man's jaw into your hand and pried his mouth open. He was barely conscious, but he was able to barely open his eyes in confusion.

“Trust me you’ll thank me later,” you explained as you curled your hand into a fist, allowing the blood to drip from your wrist into his mouth. The man tried to fight it at first but as soon as the coppery liquid hit his tongue, he lifted his mouth higher to get closer to you. It was a little known secret that Vampire blood was a delicacy among humans. Not only for its healing properties, but because it was the downer of all downers. Supposedly it put humans into such a relaxed state, time would almost slow down for them. Because of this, it was highly addictive, but you didn’t have much of a choice.

“What happened?” Josh questioned.

“We were walking back to the car from-” Jake started, but Josh cut him off.

“Please tell me he took you to dinner,” he gave a pointed look at CiCi.

The witch gave the older twin an exasperated look, “yes he did. It was lovely.”

You were still giving the man blood but you were curious, “where did you go?”

“That little Italian restaurant around the corner? ‘Casa Oliva’?”

Your eyebrows shot up, “oh I’ve heard good things about that place!”

“Can we focus here?” Jake interjected.

You turned back to the man, seeing that your blood was slowly working to heal his gaping wound. The man started to stir as he healed and you kept your other hand on his shoulder to keep him still. The last thing you needed was for him to bolt without getting Persuaded to forget any of this happened. As soon as his neck fully closed, you took your wrist away from his mouth and let it heal itself at your side.

Looking him in the eyes, your Persuasion dripped from your voice, “tell me what happened.”

He focused entirely on you as he spoke, “I was walking home…and I kept feeling like I was being followed, but every time I turned around no one was there. The next thing I knew, I was dragged back here and he was…biting me…she tried to get him off of me but…,” the man's voice gave out slightly.

“What did they look like?”

“Young…I think…it was pretty dark? She kept telling him he was taking too much, too fast, but he wasn’t listening.”

You nodded and looked back at Jake and Josh over your shoulder. Before you could voice your assumptions, an old friend's familiar pleading echoed in the alley.

“Ethan no, we have to go home, I have bags for you there,” the sound of heels scraping on pavement was harsh, and clear she was trying to hold him back. It was just what you feared, and suspected. But you needed to get this human out of harm's way.

You locked eyes with him again, “go home and forget any of this happened. Don’t question the blood on your clothes, just throw them out. Nothing out of the ordinary happened tonight.” The man looked a little dazed but nodded, and you helped him up quickly. He stumbled slightly as he exited the alley, but you were sure he’d be ok the closer he got to his home.

Jake looked at you skeptically, “that's it?”

“Trust me he’ll be-”

Before you could finish, the lumbering steps of Ethan got even closer to the group, and you squared your shoulders in preparation. He emerged from the other end of the alley, with a frantic Monica trying her best to pull him in the other direction. His mouth and neck were covered in blood, and showed just how ravenous he had been while feeding. Behind you, Jake pulled out two stakes out of his inner jacket pocket, quickly handing one to his twin. CiCi stood up from her crouched position and took her place next to Jake.

Monica recognized you instantly and the relief on her face was evident even from a distance, “it's ok! I’m just taking him home!”

Ethan looked down at the ground where the human once was and his features twisted angrily at you, “what did you do?”

You scoffed, “I would ask you the same question but its all over your fucking neck and clothes.”

“I wasn’t done with him.”

Monica tugged even harder on his arm, her own Vampiric strength failing her against him, “yes you were and we were going home…”

“Enough,” he shouted and pushed her off of him, sending her backwards a few feet. He turned back and saw Josh behind you, his eyes shining with curiosity, “I guess it's ok…he’ll do...”

“The fuck you will,” knowing exactly what he was wanting to do, you met him halfway and tried to shove him against the brick wall closest to you. Your age worked in your favor, as being over three centuries older than Ethan meant you were far stronger than him. But true bloodlust is a powerful thing, and it was obvious that was Ethan’s problem. He shoved you off of him, sending you to the ground, before running right for Josh. He tackled him to the ground quickly, happening way too fast for anyone else to properly react.

Josh was using all the strength he had to keep Ethan from nipping at his neck, and he tried to roll him over to gain control but was unsuccessful. He managed to wedge the hand that was holding the stake flat against his own chest, using Ethan’s distracted state to his advantage. With one last forceful push, the hunter was able to flip the stake up and directly into the center of Ethans chest. A shocked look overcame the Vampire’s features, and the familiar yellow tinge invaded the white of his eyes, and his skin turned an ashy gray. Ethan’s death rattle wasn’t any different from the other Vampire’s Josh had slain, but part of him couldn’t help but feel sorry for the bastard. Once he was fully limp Josh shoved him off of him, dusting himself off.

You breezed past the dead Vampire and instantly had your hunter’s face in your hands, checking all over for any scratches or injuries. His neck was unharmed, which flooded your body with relief that Ethan never actually sank his teeth in him. Josh’s expression was calm in a way you had never seen before, as if what just happened didn’t phase him.

“I’m fine, sweetheart, I’ve been through worse,” he whispered to you as his hands slid around and under your shirt, feeling the skin of your lower back. The implication of his words didn’t exactly comfort you, but you were glad that he seemed alright as your thumbs gently rubbed circles on the hinges of his jaw.

Jake looked at the two of you, not knowing how to feel watching a Vampire comforting his twin after another one had just tried to kill him. Josh was right, they had faced far more in their lives, but he still didn’t like how close that was.

A distraught Monica scrambled over to her lover’s corpse. Clutching his shirt and sobbing into his impaled chest. She looked up and over at you and Josh, eyes red with tears, “you…your Human Companion was a fucking hunter?”

You whipped your head around at her, “Monica I-”

“They’d have you Meet the Sun for that, you know that right?” She sniffed, tone flat and emotionless. “Leading one of them into a Den, and letting him kill one of us?”

You shook your head, “Ethan was dangerous, Monica and you kn-”

“HE DIDN’T HAVE TO KILL HIM!” she shrieked, letting go of his shirt.

“He didn’t have a choice, he was out of control,” you reasoned.

Monica wasn’t having it, and before any of you could react she lunged at Josh herself, but this time it was Jake that got between them first. It was almost graceful in the way he stepped between them, stake in hand and pointed at Monica. She was so overcome with rage she wasn’t paying attention, and quite literally ran into the stake herself, the wood plunging into her chest easily. Her shocked gasp was the last noise she made before crumbling to the ground.

Your eyes burned, hating that it ended this way. Monica’s biggest crime was being so lonely she turned the first person who gave her an ounce of attention. But Vampires like Ethan aren’t meant to exist. They’re not built for this life. This was why Dimitri was so selective in who got turned.

“We umm…we need to get rid of their bodies…,” you wobbled out.

“The sun will be up soon, I can take them out of town to burn,” Jake suggested.

Josh nodded in agreement, “need some help?”

Jake looked down at his watch and shook his head, “no we can handle it. The sun will be up in a couple hours, wouldn’t want you out too late…”

Josh opened his mouth to make a smart ass reply, but CiCi reached out and touched his arm, “it's fine, I promise.”

You gave one last look at Monica’s corpse before following Josh out of the alley, wanting to get back to your place as soon as possible.

~!~

You didn’t fully relax until the door to your apartment was firmly locked shut. Josh followed you into your living room as you collapsed onto your couch, worried about how quiet you had been since the alley. He sat down next to you and gathered you in his arms, feeling a little out of his depth with what had just happened. He always prided himself in his emotional intelligence, but there were layers to this situation that he, as a human, didn’t fully understand.

As soon as you felt his strong arms wrap around your shoulders, you buried your face into his neck, inhaling his scent. His entire presence was a comfort to you now, a plot twist you never saw coming.

“I’m sorry about Monica…I know she was your friend…,” he said carefully.

You sniffed sadly, “she should’ve known better…she was over one hundred years old. But it's always a gamble when you turn someone. Not every human can handle a second life. There’s a reason we’re so selective in who we turn. Vampire’s like Ethan aren’t an isolated incident, as you, a hunter, would know. Anyone who comes out of the first decade of being a Vampire, even partially well adjusted, is lucky, honestly.” He nodded, gently resting his cheek on the top of your head. “Looking back, it’s amazing I even survived those first few years…”

“Was it that bad,” he asked softly.

“My Maker wasn’t…he was hands-on in all the wrong ways,” your voice sounded far off, as if you were drifting back into memories you weren’t fond of. Josh’s entire body stiffened at the implication, and heat started radiating from his hands, causing you to sit up quickly, “no…not like that…it’s just, he didn’t actually teach me how to be a Vampire. He’d parade me around, showing me how to find humans, how to manipulate them into feeding on them, but that was it. He didn’t teach me control, in fact he wasn’t interested in that at all. He liked things…messy, and when you’re that young and new, you don’t know any better. It’s so easy to get swept up into the “cool” parts of Vampirism that you fail to think about the less than glamorous parts. The shitty thing is, Ethan had a Maker who wanted to show him all the right things, how to live properly, how to blend in with society…but he just wasn’t cut out for any of it.”

He hated the way your eyes looked so sad and distant, with tears threatening to bubble up at any moment. His mind revisited his plans to find your Maker and force him to Meet the Sun himself, but he shook the thoughts away and focused entirely on you. In the time he had known you, you had never looked small in your body language. You always had a presence about you that filled an entire room, with a smile to match. But now? Now you looked tiny on your couch, head hung low as you rubbed your nose, feet tucked underneath you. It struck him that you hadn’t even called him Boy Scout in hours. He glanced up at the clock you had hanging on the wall, noting the time.

Softly, he reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before offering, “hey, how much blood did you give that man?”

You leaned into his touch and shrugged, “I’m not sure I was just focusing on closing that wound in his neck. Why?”

His expression softened, “Just…do you need a pick-me-up after that? How does blood loss affect Vampires?”

Your eyes met his, suddenly feeling rather vulnerable under his gaze, “I heal pretty fast.”

“That wasn’t what I asked.”

Your lower lip disappeared between your teeth, and you remembered that the one bag you had downed before going back out had been the last bag in your fridge. Your hunter's heartbeat was growing louder in your head, and your gums started to itch. But no, it still felt too soon since the Den. Human fragility was the least of your concern, but when it came to the brown eyed man sitting on your couch, you couldn’t help but keep it in the back of your mind at all times.

Shaking your head, “it's still too soon, I’ll be alright until tomorrow-”

“I’m a lot tougher than you think, Sweetheart.”

You stared at him, eyes looking him up and down, mulling it over. He was right, he was tougher than he let on, but you were just scared of hurting him.

“Fine. But not a lot,” you relented shifting on the couch.

He smiled at you, already anticipating the feeling of your fangs buried in his skin. Your own expression brightened as he pulled you into his lap. You adjusted your position until you were firmly straddling him, and he reached up and grazed his thumb against the side of your mouth.

“Take what you need,” he all but whispered. The way he spoke to you sent chills down your spine, and caused your eyes to darken. Instinctively you leaned forward and nuzzled his neck, the scent of his gorgeous blood overwhelming your senses. You planted an open mouthed kiss on his neck, feeling his pulse underneath your lips. He shivered slightly underneath you, his hands flexing against your hips. You stilled, your breath fanning against his skin. He gave you one more squeeze before his thumbs started rubbing circles into your skin, letting you know he was ready. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fangs extended from your gums and locked into place. Unable to hold back any longer you surged forward, piercing his skin in expertise. A moan rattled out of his mouth, and he threw his head back as best he could. You smiled against his skin as you took your first pull. This time both of you moaned as his blood flooded your mouth. That citrusy tang hit your tongue first, then the vanilla snuck in, nearly taking over. There was something so bright about his blood, a flavor profile that was so uniquely him. It took all of your self control to not gulp him down.

He was practically writhing underneath you, loving every second of it. Any pain from the bite was eclipsed by the sheer pleasure that coursed through his system. He pulled you down harder onto his lap, desperate for some kind of friction. He didn’t care how needy he acted or sounded, if you were the cause he couldn’t help it. The feeling was heightened when he felt some stray blood trail down his neck. He could never get enough of his Vampire.

~!~

Twenty miles north, give or take, a hunter and his Witch were placing the bodies of two dead Vampires in a shallow pit he had dug minutes prior. The sky was getting lighter and lighter as the sun raced to the horizon, and their task of disposing of the bodies would be complete. Jake had been silent for most of the trip, trying to digest the absolute shit show the last two days had been for him.

CiCi knew what was bothering him, and carefully said, “stop over thinking, he was fine.”

He turned to her, “this time. He doesn’t realize just how vulnerable he is walking around like her glorified juice box.”

“It’s a lot more between them and you know it.” Jake scoffed and tried to turn back to the horizon, but CiCi’s hand caught his chin and turned him back to her, “you can’t deny how he was looking at her the entire time.”

“That’s what scares me. I know him, he never does anything halfway, I can tell he’s all in on…whatever they have…and I also know that it’ll be me to pick up the pieces should it blow up in his face,” his eyes burned into hers.

“He could probably say the same thing about you, my love.”

“You’re not-”

“...exactly human either, am I? I still haven’t met your parents because of it.”

“I just don’t see how it's going to work for them. She seems…alright but I don’t trust her.”

“Maybe this means you’re going to have to trust Josh. He didn’t even hesitate to put down that one,” she gestured to the corpse in the pit before her.

Before Jake could counter, the sun breached the horizon, its golden rays spreading across the field. Within minutes, the two corpses were engulfed in flames, the putrid smell filling the air. He reached into his inner jacket pocket, and pulled out a small cigar. It was a habit he started years ago, when he and Josh started going out on their own to hunt. He crouched down in front of the flames, leaning forward to light it before standing back up wrapping his arm around his Witch’s waist.

“It's so morbid that you do that.”

“You like it though,” he said, smirking at her.

She tried glaring at him, but her own muscles failed her as a smile slowly spread across her face. It didn’t take long for the bodies to be turned into ashes, and the two of them filled the pit back in to leave no trace. In Jake’s mind, the one good thing about Vampires was how easy it was to dispose of them. As long as you had the sun, the rest was easy. The sun was a hunter’s best friend, and one of the few constants Jake could rely on.

~!~

But as the trail of clothes leading to your bedroom suggested, your own hunter’s feelings towards the sun weren’t the same anymore. The two of you were safely tucked into your bed nook, curtains tightly shut and the wall sconces inside were turned on, giving a warm glow to the little nest. He had you underneath him, slowly and deeply pistoning his hips into yours. He was leaning on one elbow next to your head, while the other hand was tucked under your ass, gripping your cheek to get you as close to him as possible. His lips never left your skin, peppering kisses all over your face and neck, occasionally nipping at your flesh with his teeth. Your own arms were wrapped around his back, digging your nails into his muscles whenever he’d hit a particular spot deep inside you. This time with him was different. It was slower, more relaxed, as if he wanted to make a point to take his time with you.

A lot was weighing on his mind but he didn’t want you to pick up on it. The case he had been working on the last few months was officially closed, and therefore his initial reason for even being in your city was over with. Now that he had you, he didn’t want to leave, and he didn’t know how to break it to Jake. He wasn’t going to ask you to uproot your life and go back with him, especially now that he knew just how much you loved it here. But right now, he was shoving all those thoughts into a corner of his mind so he could properly focus on you. He was committing every sigh, moan, and cry of his name to memory. The way the slick heat of your walls gripped him, how your ankles locked together perfectly on his back, the way your hands gripped his hair as your lips devoured him. All of it was finding a permanent place in his brain.

You were doing much of the same, mesmerized by your lover above you. The birds and ambient street noise was filtering into your room as the world woke up. But the light from your wall sconces were casting a warm glow around Josh, nearly giving him a halo of light. It was rare that you genuinely missed the sun itself, as you had a difficult relationship with the wretched thing. But being wrapped up with Josh was probably the closest you had ever been to gentle daylight in the three centuries you had been alive.

His brows furrowed together in concern when he saw your eyes well up with stubborn tears, “you ok?”

You sniffed, willing your tears to stay in your eyes, “never better, Boy Scout.”

He smiled and captured your lips with his, speeding up his movements. It wasn’t long before you were both crying out, reaching your highs together.

Before you could even think about getting up, Josh was slowly detangling his limbs from yours to carefully pull back the curtain to gauge where the sun was in your room. Thankfully your nook was positioned in a way that kept it out of direct light, but he still barely gave himself enough room to slide out of bed and quickly shut the curtain behind him. You giggled at his attentiveness and listened to his footsteps sprint around the room as he shut your other curtains, blocking out the sun. The curtain to your bed slowly opened, revealing your smirking hunter.

After round two in the shower, you were back in your bed cuddled up with Josh. Sleep overtook you both, and the rest of the day was spent wrapped up in each other’s arms.

However, the peaceful slumber was interrupted by someone pounding on your door. Groggily you sat up at the sound, and looked at the time on your phone and the weather widget on the home screen. A low temperature and a crescent moon greeted you, letting you know the sun was fully down and it was safe.

Josh stirred behind you, “what’s going on…?”

“I don’t know…wait here.” You threw open the curtain as the pounding happened again, this time a little louder. Quickly you grabbed some clothes from your drawer across the room and dressed as you made your way down the hall.

Not being satisfied with how you answered that, Josh dressed himself as well and followed you to the door. You peered through the peephole before letting out a shaky breath and opening the door.

Two men in black suits were standing on the other side, sternly staring at you both.

In a cool voice, one of them said, “Mr. Nikolou requests your presence at his manor this evening, and he apologizes for the sudden call. He also wanted to inform you that this matter was very urgent, and that he would have a driver ready for you.”

“Sweetheart…what is it?”

The fear and anxiety bubbled up in your throat as you turned around to Josh, “Dimitri wants to see us…”

To be continued…

Tag List:  @dannyandthekiszkas , @gretasmokerising , @sinners-go-to-drink-the-wine , @wideminded-dreamer , @runwayblues , @wildbluesorbit , @llightmyllovee , @rhythm-of-space , @sacredthefran , @writingcold , @alwaysonthemend , @wetkleenex-gvf , @josh-iamyour-mama , @lightsofthe-living-gvf , @gvfcinema , @sacredthethreadgvf , @losfacedevil , @jakekiszkasbuttsweat , @shutupdevvie , @hearts-hunger , @gretavanfleetposts , @ascendingtostardust , @mackalah , @andromeda-raine-gvf , @jake-kiszkas-smirk , @gracev0609 , @sacredjake , @earthlysorrows , @gvfpal , @myownparadise96 , @itsafullmoon , @gvfmelbourne , @twistedmelodies , @that-witchy-pan , @gold-mines-melting

[apothe-roses]

12 Days of Smuff

Day 8: Sunrise & Orgasm Control

Osferth x Reader

Word Count: 690

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, heavy petting, disrespecting Christianity, male whimpering

Prompt created by @madmax8603. Dividers by @cafekitsune and @mykento

Disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. I do not own the right to the character of Osferth

Lord Uhtred’s men were kind and respectful, but they were still men. Loud, smelly men. As such, you relished the moments you could enjoy some alone time.

One of your favorite pass times is to watch the sun rise. Which is what you plan to do this very morning.

Quietly, you pick your away around your sleeping friends, noticing a certain monk is not among them.

You make your way up the small nearby hill, smiling when you see the kneeling figure at the top. Osferth had his hands folded in prayer, his eyes closed and his lips forming words you couldn’t hear.

“Shouldn’t you be keeping watch?” You ask, starling him.

“M-my lady! I was! I mean I am! I only wanted to take a moment to pray.”

You giggle. “I’m only teasing, Osferth. I know you wouldn’t neglect us like that.”

He relaxes a little. You take a seat beside him.

“So beautiful,” you marvel, admiring the rich colors of the sky. “What a sight to start our day.” Osferth hums in agreement. The two of you fall silent for a while, watching the sky change colors.

“What were you praying for?” you wonder, breaking the silence.

“Forgiveness.”

“For what?”

In the dim light, you see his cheeks turn pink. “I’d rather not say.”

“Why not?” you wonder.

“It really is a beautiful sunrise,” he quickly turns his head away. “Such a wonderful example of the Lord’s—”

“Was it about me?” you interrupt. You’ve suspected the monk had feelings for you for quite some time now. You’d caught enough shy glances and flushed cheeks.

He bites his lip, clearly in thought.

“It’s all right,” you assure him. “I’m not rejecting you.”

His head snaps back to you

“What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me. It’s the same way I’ve been looking at you.”

You put a hand on his thigh.

“I want you, Osferth. And I know you want me too,” you whisper.

He glances from your eyes to your lips, then slowly leans in. His kiss is soft and uncertain but becomes more assertive when you deepen it. Your hand slides up his thigh, palming his half-hard cock over his trousers. You smile against his lips.

“Please,” he begs. “Please touch me.” You happily oblige, undoing the laces of his breeches. You push his robes aside and free his cock from its confines. You wrap your hand around his shaft, stroking him to full hardness.

“Oh God,” he moans. That’s when you get an idea.

“I just remembered. I interrupted earlier, didn’t I?”

“W-what?”

“Your prayers. You never got to finish them.” His tip leaks a droplet of seed. You run your thumb over it, smearing it over the head.

“Oh, it’s not that important…,”

“No no no. You should finish them.”

“Really, it’s—,”

“Let me rephrase. Finish your prayer, and you can cum,” you whisper in his ear. Osferth’s eyes widen, and he turns the most delightful shade of red. His mouth falls open, unable to find the words.

“Go on. Out loud, so I’ll know when they’re done,” you order, giving his balls a light squeeze for good measure.

He exhales shakily, before resuming the position he was in before.

“Lord, I ask that you look over my friends and I as we continue on our journey,” he chokes out. You pick up the pace a little.

“I ask that-fuck-you ensure our b-blades strike h-hard and true-oh!” his head falls back as you stroke harder, speeding and slowing intermittently, alternating giving attention to his tip, shaft, and stones.

“Almost there, sweet monk,” you purr. “Don’t forget to ask for forgiveness.”

“And finally, I ask that you forgive me for my lustful ways, such as what I am undergoing right now,” he forces out through gritted teeth.

“All this I ask in your name Amen!” the last part comes out as a moan as you speed up. In no time, he’s painting the ground before him with his seed. You gradually slow to a stop, finally releasing his nearly purple cock. You give him a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“Such a good boy.”

[unhinged-summer-fun]

common grounds (oshamir) - chapter 3

Pairing: Osha Aniseya x Qimir "The Stranger"

A/N: Dividers by @firefly-graphics

series masterlist

chapter 3: switch-up

“Osha!”

Vernestra waited until she made eye contact to turn around and walk into her office. The summoning was clear to all who heard it. The Temple wasn’t exactly known for its subtlety.

“Go,” Jecki said. “I’ve got this handled, and your shift ended ten minutes ago anyway.”

Osha set down the rag she’d been using and dusted off her hands before leaving the cafe. The steel stairs to the second story shook with every step, and she wondered if there would ever be another feeling than dread that accompanied the ascent each time she made it. Vernestra was already at her desk by the time Osha knocked on the doorframe.

“Come in. Close the door, please.” This can’t be good.

Still, Osha did as she was told, and gingerly sat in the worn, padded chair in front of the desk. “Is something wrong?”

“You know Temple membership doesn’t have a non-compete clause. Members are allowed to train wherever they like. But the fact of the matter is that there have been… rumors.”

“What?”

“Rumors that you’ve been out with… less-than-reputable trainers in the city. But you should know that dipping into other forms of martial arts will only weaken your mastery in the boxing ring. I’d hate to see your injury flare again for a quick moment of feeling cool or flashy.”

Indignation flared. “Ma’am, I don’t know what you’re talking about; I only train here.”

Vernestra held up a hand, shaking her head. “This isn’t a write-up or a reprimand. You’re in a… unique position at the gym, with Sol being your father. Perception is vital in these cases, especially with competition season approaching. If we can’t show unity in force, then we may as well communicate to our competitors that we don’t stand as one.”

“But I’m not training anywhere else! I’m not even in competition anymore!”

“This isn’t a discussion, Osha. This is me letting you know that if you’re going to go behind the Temple’s back, at least do us the courtesy of being a little more discreet about it. You may go.”

“I’m—”

“You may go.”

Confusion warred with her rising emotions, making her feel a little off-balance. “I love the Temple,” Osha said weakly, but Vernestra had already started working on something else, ignoring her. Seeing that she wouldn’t be listened to, she teetered out of the office and back down the stairs.

Osha didn’t understand. Her entire life, she’d only trained at the Temple. She wanted nothing more than to follow Sol’s example—become a decorated boxing champion, a beloved and respected trainer, someone wise and good and dedicated to their passions. She’d struggled to find satisfaction in committing to boxing and boxing only, but she’d never been accused of training elsewhere.

“Everything alright?” Jecki asked once Osha emerged from around the corner.

“Yeah, I… Jecki, do you train anywhere else in the city?”

“That’s a random question.” Jecki shook her head. “I mean, sure, here and there, when everyone’s traveling for competition, or there are free skill clinics. Why?”

“And you’ve never been told you shouldn’t do that?”

Her brow furrowed. “No. There’s a lot to learn about boxing anywhere.”

“Even though you already have a mentor here?”

“Not even Sol has all the answers. He doesn’t like admitting it.” Jecki gave her a wry smile. “He knows the Temple isn’t the only gym in the city, but he generally turns a blind eye to it. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Osha said with a sigh. “It was just a miscommunication, but… yeah, I should probably stop working so late all the time anyway. Maybe that’s what happened.”

“I’ll keep Yord away from Huyang today for you.”

“Thanks, Jecki. See you later.”

“Bye!”

Osha walked straight into a gust of bitingly cold air the second she left the cafe. Wrapping her coat tighter around herself, she let her thoughts drift like the snow the whole way home. She didn’t want to go back to the gym today, not after that strange encounter with Vernestra, but she still had a lot of that restless energy to work off.

The apartment complex had a really nice gym, complete with a heated indoor pool and a sauna. Walking between buildings in the freezing weather soaking wet after a swim sounded about as appealing as tumbling down three flights of stairs, so strength training it was. She changed in the small bathroom and put her headphones in to start a circuit on the machines, idly noting the single swimmer doing laps in the pool. Insanity. At least his shoulders look nice going by.

The burn in her upper arms and shoulders overtook the listless confusion that had plagued her since she left Vernestra’s office a half hour ago. She added more weight, relishing in the prolonged high. When it came time to work on her calves, she halted.

I’m sure you still have your old PT records, follow those exercises about thirty minutes a day.

Osha didn’t like sitting still. She had no patience to hold a plank or a wall sit for ten minutes. Her post-op physical therapist had been less than enthused by her insistence on doing reps, not holds. Sol didn’t like seeing her sit still, either. When Osha got back into boxing after everything, he’d worry about her holding a stretch for too long. He only thought she’d recovered when he saw her running again, seven months after surgery. The sense of familial camaraderie between her and him had been worth every agonizing step.

But the pain in her ankle had been flaring lately, and she still felt a worrying amount of weakness whenever she moved too fast. She couldn’t trust her body to take care of her, at least not how she used to.

Understand where your pain is. Numbing yourself to it only hides it when you’re trying to get rid of it.

Ugh. That damn stranger wouldn’t leave her mind. Still, she wanted to know if he had a point.

After going through her email archive to find her PT notes, she chose a few to try out. And if they felt silly, at least nobody would see her. The lone swimmer looked absorbed in his exercise, lost in his own world behind the glass separating the gym from the pool. Still, Osha closed her eyes and let herself rise up onto her toes, holding a calf raise for a thirty-count.

It burned deeper in her muscles than what the machines or the classes did for her. It set in faster, and by 25, 26, 27, the pain in her left ankle almost had her tapping early. But she finished the count. She sank back onto her heels, hissing at the redoubled ache in her Achilles. “Shit,” she said in a breathless laugh. She reached down to rub at the skin on either side of the purple surgery scar, and when she stood up again—

The swimmer was coming out of the water.

The stranger was coming out of the water.

He didn’t notice her, which was good because she was basically ogling him as he left the pool. In her opinion, the baggy hoodies had done the world a great disservice. The bare glimpse of the man’s forearm the night they met was enough to send her head spinning if she thought about it too long, but looking at the rest of him threatened to upend her entire world.

His shoulders held strength to them that felt evident even from a distance, even behind a pane of sweaty glass. That strength, by comparison, made Osha’s already weak knees weaker. The luscious curve of his wet biceps and triceps—fighter’s arms—caught the light the way her breath caught in her throat.

Not even the unflattering fluorescent bulbs would dare betray his muscle tone, making him look god-like down to the hollow of his throat and the shadows beneath his defined pectorals. Was it getting hotter in here? Droplets of water continued to cascade down every dip and valley of his body, pulling her focus down, down, those were his hips, and holy fuck she needed to remember how to breathe—

“Your rest is over; up on your toes again.” His voice came out a little warped and tinny through the glass, but it was definitely him. Osha startled at being caught, going up on her toes instinctually at his instruction. She met his eyes through the glass, finding him grinning at her. “Thirty-count, Osha.”

He walked off to the side where she couldn’t see him, and it was like all of the air finally returned to the room from where he stole it. It took all her willpower to hold the position, and through that effort she found she wasn’t worried at all about the situation. She saw the amenities access band on his wrist—he was a resident just like her.

28, 29—

“Down.”

Her breath left her in a rush as she dropped to her heels, turning to face him. She hadn’t even heard the door open. His stealth wasn’t a slight on her awareness; he could get under any radar and stay there. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Suppose we were following each other home last night.” His dark eyes dipped down her body and back up in a second. It filled her blood with fire. “I thought that was you when you walked in. Couldn’t really see with my head in the water.”

“I couldn’t tell it was you.”

“Yeah, well. I don’t often practice backstroke.” He shrugged and drifted closer. He’d put on black shoes, loose black pants, and a white shirt. It looked entirely too casual for the gym—better suited for lounging around a seaside resort or something. But he wore it all comfortably. These clothes didn’t swallow him up the way the hoodie did. She could still see his defined muscles through the shirt. “How’s your ankle feeling?”

“It burns a little.”

“One to ten?”

“Like a four? Maybe?”

“Is it a four, or is it not?” His assertive, no-nonsense voice felt like touching a static-charged doorknob. She stood up straighter. “What’s your usual level of pain?”

“Isn’t that kind of a personal question? I mean, we’re basically strangers.”

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the nearest machine. “Well, I suppose there’s two options, then. You either tell me to fuck off, or you ask me whatever questions you have to assuage your doubts about me.”

Tension rose in the space between them. Those two words, crass and short, sat comfortably on her tongue like always. Fuck off. Even if those chance meetings were simply coincidence, Osha was certain that if she told him to leave her alone, he would. With how he’s carefully controlling his face, he doesn’t want her to know just how dismayed he’d be if she told him to fuck off. The bare flicker of tenderness in his eyes is what sealed her decision.

“I’ve been at a four daily since the snow started falling. It’s maybe two points higher now since I started exercising.”

His lips curled into a smile, and so did hers.

“Your rest is over, Osha. Up on your toes.”

He was patient. He angled himself beside her to see the list of exercises her PT team had prescribed to her, reading off her phone. He murmured through explanations of the movements she’d suffered the monotony of, and made them sound interesting. This close, she could see how his hair still slightly dripped from the pool, darkening the white of his shirt whenever droplets dove into it.

And when she did the exercises for him, his focus never wavered. His attention was that of an eagle’s, offering brief corrections but never touching her. “Higher,” he said. “Until it burns. Don’t stop—no, straighten out. Good.”

He had her go through her full range of motion. Occasionally, he’d have her repeat certain movements, and then he had her show him how she stretched. The way he watched her made her feel naked, but still, he never touched her, and she never even took off her socks.

“Thank you, Osha.”

“What are you thanking me for?” She took a long drink from her water bottle and picked up her gym bag, preparing for the walk back to her building.

“For trusting me. I knew you were in pain, and it’s… if I’m honest, it’s been worrying me in my spare time and thoughts.”

“I’ve been on your mind?” She didn’t mean it to come out that way, of course. Still, the moment she realized how it sounded, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.

He did not shy from it, letting his lips curve into another slow smile while his eyes traced her form. “Can you blame me?”

She exhaled slowly, trying to shake the slight discomfort his appraisal gave her. “You’re a… mysterious man.”

“I’m an open book.”

“I doubt that—”

“For you.”

Osha pulled up short, midway through zipping up her jacket. The stranger closed distance with her as she stood in front of the door. Like this, they mimicked how they had stood in the darkened shop the last two nights. Her, looking up at him, a cold wall to one side.

“If there’s anything you want to know about me, I’ll tell you. That’s not something I offer to anybody.”

“Does my sister have carte blanche like I do?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I’ve known her two years and she didn’t trust me enough to hear the truth when I spoke it. Why would I let someone in if all they’d do is call my life a lie?”

His assessment of Mae disquieted her. Mae was a kind girl and a sharp fighter—a great sister. When Sol had taken them in, she hadn’t trusted him for a while either, but eventually her opinion had changed. “Did you give her reasons not to trust you?”

“I gave her what she needed from me. Trust was never part of that. But… this is really something that you should talk to her about. What did she say when you asked her about me?”

“She wouldn’t say much. I was planning on asking her tonight.”

“Then do that. If you have any other questions about it, you can ask, but you should trust your sister first.” Don’t trust me blindly, his eyes said.

“Alright. I’ll ask her first.”

“What else do you want to know?”

Quite the powerful question. Osha didn’t know where to start. “If I asked about the first night we met, would you tell me it was coincidence?”

“Would you believe me if I told you it was?”

“If that was the truth.”

The stranger’s eyes glittered with amusement, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he thought over her words. “The first time, yes. The second time, no. I wanted to see you again.”

Osha’s heart did flips in her chest, a desperate translation of what her mind was doing. “What do you want from me?”

“I…” His brow furrowed. “That’s a very complicated answer.”

“It could be. Or it couldn’t.”

“The list of reasons why is ever-growing, but at the top of it, I want you to trust me enough that I might help you the way I know how to.”

The motion sensors in the gym lobby cut the lights from their lack of movement, plunging them both into half-darkness.

“And why do you want to help me?”

“I know what it’s like to be cast aside for an injury that wasn’t your fault.”

Osha’s face fell, heart dropping into her gut. “That’s—that’s not what happened. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

If she didn’t know better, she would have said he looked almost… disappointed. “You’re right,” he said, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. “Sorry about that.” He smiles at her, a toothy grin that doesn’t really meet his eyes. “Ask your sister who I am. Maybe you’ll take the fuck off option next time I offer it.”

With that, he disappeared in a swirl of snow for the third time.

CHAPTER FOUR

[ariane-yeong]

I cannot take it anymore. 

The endless suffering. The never-ending cycles.

If only I could go back to before it all began... 

If I could just. reach out. and stop this…

INITIALISIERE REPLIKA-SYSTEMKALIBRIERUNG…

...

Cycle 2995

The calibration pod hisses open. After a cursory systems diagnostic, I conclude that I am fit to fulfill my duties for the day. 

With the routine checks done, I head to the cockpit to check on the Gestalt Officer. I let her know that the ship has been maintained well so far, and while there are certain materials I am starting to run out of, it shouldn’t affect mission success. Ariane laughs and my sensors immediately start reporting core temp rising. 

“You always sound so serious,” she says, “I love it so much.” 

And right then I can hear my cooling system whirring harder than baseline. Somehow it feels like it’s been a while since I’ve seen her smile. She lets me know the scans still show no exoplanets, but we’ll keep searching, because what else is there to do anyway. Something drops in my stomach. A feeling that we never will find anything after all. I try to think of a way to suggest we change course when I hear Ariane say,

“By the way, did you change your hair today? It looks… longer somehow.”

I let her know that replika units do not grow hair, a fact she already knows of course, and my appearance is still the same as the cycle before, if perhaps a bit ruffled by the calibration pod. She runs her fingers through my hair and smiles. My fans whirr harder.

Afterwards, I check my reflection in the observation window. My appearance matches the standard LSTR unit at a positive 99%, accounting for the occasional wear and tear after years of service aboard the Penrose. I stare at it for a long time.

…

Cycle 2996

I am in the middle of adjusting a floor panel when I hear excited footsteps coming my way. 

“Elster, you’re not gonna believe this!” Ariane is beaming. “Come here! I have something to show you.”

She takes me to the storage hold and points at a box she’s just opened. Inside are some books.

“Imperial novels! How did these end up here? You would think they’d check everything.” 

She tells me all my tasks for the day are postponed, takes my hand and leads me to her quarters. She sits down on her bed and gestures me to do the same. Once we are comfortable, she starts reading from the books out loud. A strange peace wafts over me from hearing her voice. The cycle passes in this way, with Ariane either reading the old novels, or telling me about the books she’d secretly borrow from her friends’ bookstore. Once again she muses on how strange it is that these ended up finding their way on this ship.

I have a brief image of a broken figure in a cage, punished for possessing imperial propaganda. A visual glitch? Whatever it is, it is gone as soon as it appears. I try not to think about the cruelty that would be done to her should they find out.

Ariane’s voice sounds hoarse now from all the talking, so I offer to bring her a cup of tea from the mess hall. The status monitor blinks when I walk in. I glimpse at it, but promptly look away.

…

Cycle 2997

I am finishing up a checkup on Ariane in the medical bay. After I tell her she is in good shape she says: 

“You mean I’m shipshape?” and she starts laughing and doesn’t stop laughing for a good while. It is a terrible joke and I love her for it. 

“By the way, do you know what I noticed, Elster?” I look at her quizzically and she continues, “The way you speak has changed. Have you started speaking more like me?” 

The thought of it warms me. We’ve spent so much time together that even our speech patterns have started melding into one another. I wondered if they’d notice it when we came back. If we came back.

Ariane looks sullen suddenly. I place my hand on her shoulder and she holds onto it, gently. 

“You know, I used to get mocked for the way I spoke. Back on Rotfront. They said… they said it sounded all imperial-like. I… I didn’t know. I only had my mother and her radio growing up. I couldn’t have known it was wrong.”

“It wasn’t your fault.” is all I can manage to say. Ariane is quiet.

“I know it took us a while to start talking but… when we did, it felt like I knew you. From before. That’s why I thought it was so fun that you sounded like Isa!”

The thought of Isa gives me a sudden need to emergency purge my internals. Another sensory glitch? 

…

Cycle 2998

Ariane is sleeping. I am sitting beside her reading one of her newfound novels. It is fascinating. I am interrupted from time to time as she is fussing in her sleep. Is she having a nightmare? I place my hand on her and she pushes it away. 

“No~!” is all she says.

I tell her it’s okay, she’s only having a dream, but she starts talking in her sleep again.

“No, this isn’t how it’s supposed to happen. This isn’t how it happens!” She is increasingly upset and agitated. I try to wake her up then, caressing her gently, but she only gets more worked up. “No, Elster! Not today! Please don’t make me do this. Please!”

My heart, if I had a heart, drops.

…

Cycle 2999

We noticed a red giant star through the viewport today. Ariane wants to paint it. Or something inspired by it, anyway. I don’t understand her ideas, but I enjoy watching her do it. She doesn’t seem to remember her dreams from the previous cycle, so I don’t mention it. 

Midway through, she tells me about how in olden times, before factories started doing it, artists would fabricate their own paint, just like she’s forced to now. She tells me then how painters used to venture out into the unknown, in search of beauty and discovery and the sublime. It’s almost like we’re doing the same. 

She gave me a sketch pad and some tools to draw too if I felt like it. I try to draw Ariane, with her easel in front of her. Being an engineer, I am used to handling precision instruments and doing minute work, and yet, my hand feels clumsy and doesn’t seem to obey what my mind wills it to. My scribbles look brutish, childish even. Wondering what’s wrong with me, I sigh and put the sketchpad down. 

Her work is not a magnificent expression of the sublime either though. The red giant looks puny on the black canvas dotted with dull stars. I’m just glad she isn’t painting that damn island anymore. 

…

Cycle 3000

“Elster, you’re up! It’s our 3000 cycle anniversary!” She hugs me and swings around. “Let me put on some music.” 

We dance. Together. It’s all I’ve wanted. Togetherness. I won’t let you suffer ever again, Ariane. 

As we dance, she giggles and tells me my dancing has gotten better. That it almost feels like we’re floating around. I smile at her. 

“I hope we stay like this forever.” she whispers. “I hope this day never ends.”

Something in me stops, and I trip. Trying to brace my fall, Ariane holds onto me but I’m too heavy for her. She falls first, head first onto her bed frame, and I fall onto her. Once we gain our footing again, Ariane is holding her hand to her mouth. 

“Owwww…” 

There is a bloody tooth in the palm of her hand. 

This. This is how it begins. The endless cycles. The neverending pain and suffering. This is what I must prevent. At all costs. 

My hands, as if moving of their own accord, reach around her face. She cradles my hand in hers and looks at me, her gaze longing. I must try and ease her suffering. Before it gets bad. I have to keep my promise.

My hands then slide lower, around her throat and tighten. Her gaze turns to terror and she tries to gasp out a word, but to no avail. I don’t notice her arm reaching out and grabbing the record player, still on. I only notice it when she smacks my face with it, the vinyl shattering in my face.

She slips from under me and runs out. I stare at the broken record. We can never dance again.

I make my way to her. I know she’ll try to barricade herself in medical, but I am the ship engineer. I know this ship like the back of my hand. I can open every door, panel or vent. By the time I manage to open the door and push away the blockage, she has already made her way to the reactor room. Perhaps, in a desperate attempt to slow my stride, she has pulled apart the reactor shields and it is openly leaking radiation now. I know where she’ll go next.

In the cryogenics room, she is huddled in the corner, crying. I realize, I too am leaking fluid from the cuts on my forehead. It is too painful. I am just trying to ease her pain. Don’t make this so hard for me. Her eyes, now bloodshot, avoid mine. 

“Please, Elster. You’re not yourself. Please don’t do this.” 

“I made a promise. I’ll do anything.”

She doesn’t struggle anymore. She had one thing she had been holding onto. It is gone now. 

I do what I must. 

…

Despite my earlier assessment stating otherwise, the radiation spike had done a number on me and I had managed to damage my outer shell trying to get those doors open. I make my way to the mess hall for repair materials. Once there, I realize there is no point for that anymore. It’s done now. All I have to do now is wait till it ends. Before I collapse, I glance at the monitor. It says:

PENROSE-512

SCOUT VEHICLE TRANSIT MONITOR

STATUS: IN TRANSIT

LOCATION: ON COURSE

—REPORT—

CREW STATUS:

A. YEONG, GESTALT PILOT - DECEASED (CRYOGENICS)

FKLR-512, REPLIKA UNIT - ACTIVE (MESS HALL)

[mrsstarkey1]

lets just forget - topper thornton

A/N: I wrote this before szn 3 and just hadn't got around to posting it but this obviously does NOT take place in season 3 when topper is out of his mind 

SUMMARY: you're sulking over your crush on JJ, topper is grieving his relationship with Sarah, and you're both alone together.

WORD COUNT: 0.5k

WARNINGS: pg-13 makeout

you, john b, pope, kie and jj were all sitting on john b’s porch, just talking. though, you weren’t saying much.

the sight of jj and kie sneaking glances at each other was practically making you sick. you hated that feeling. the feeling of someone having control over you. no one had ever had that control that jj did over you. and he didn’t even feel the same way.

you knew that. he obviously had feelings for kie, and you couldn’t blame him. she was great, and she was one of your closest friends.

of course, no one knew about your stupid little crush on jj. you had to keep up your reputation of not showing too much emotion.

kie and jj engaged in their own conversation, and you saw her push his shoulder playfully. that was your que. you stood up, “I’m gonna get going.” you grabbed a couple beers out of the cooler to go.

“see ya, y/n,” pope said, and you did your short handshake you two had made when you were in middle school.

you said bye to everyone else and left, walking along the street with no set destination. you didn’t really want to go home yet, so you ended up going to the beach. specifically the area that almost no one else knew about. the place you went when you wanted to be alone.

you sat down on the sand, twisting off the cap of your beer.

you watched the waves crash on the shore, taking a large gulp of the drink. “what’s got you drinking on the beach at 3 in the afternoon?” you glanced up to see the source of the voice.

topper. he was a kook, and he was an asshole. that’s pretty much all you knew about him. “what do you care?”

he sat down next to you, leaning back on his elbows. “I don’t. just making conversation.”

you took another swig, “right.”

he leaned his head back, sighing deeply. you handed him your other beer, noticing that he looked like he needed it. “alright kook, I’ll bite. what’s up?”

“girlfriend left me for a pogue.” he said, bringing the bottle to his lips.

“oh right. john b mentioned sarah. that’s tough.” he nodded, gesturing for you to explain why you were on the beach.

you sighed, “it’s stupid. just stupid feelings that I don’t want to have for someone that I shouldn’t have them for.”

“well, I guess we can both agree that feelings suck.” he said, and you nodded in agreement.

“cheers to that,” you held up your beer, and he klinked his against it.

you looked over at him, eyes trailing down his body, noting how tight his t-shirt was. “we could always do something that would distract us… something to forget about our feelings,” you suggested, meeting his eyes with a smirk.

“oh yeah?” he asked, amusement twinkling in his eyes. you nodded. positioning yourself on his lap, and his hands went to your waist, finding their way under your t-shirt, lightly tracing your skin.

he hungrily smashed his lips to yours, your lips moving in sync. he moved his lips to your neck, pulling off your shirt in the process, and you fiddled with the button on his shorts hastily.

and I’m sure you can imagine the rest.

looking back on that day, you always laughed at the words you’d used. “forget about our feelings.” it was ironic. you guys had no idea that you would end up developing the strongest feelings you’d ever felt.

part 2

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