#so we're just going where the wind takes us today | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lazyneonrabbitt · 4 months ago

Text

Old dog

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT🔞

Daryl is never been watched with such interest before, and it grabs his attention. But he feels like he got his order of actions wrong..

The Kingdom was a strange place.

First there was the King, with his pet tiger.

The King spoke in a strange manner, and his ever so friendly right hand too.

The Queen was a kind woman, she had shown you around and given you a roof over your head after you wandered into her lands.

The Kingdom had guards on horseback, and all its residents referred to their leader as the King.

Like a true old age Kingdom.

It was near summer when you arrived and took some time to get settled, now having your routine all worked out and were a happy new addition to the bakery.

While it meant crazy early mornings, it brought many people a good start of their day. You made your delivery rounds as the first people got up to tend to the gardens before the sun got too hot, passing then with a kind smile and a good morning wish on your way to the school building where you'd make your last delivery of the day.

You continued your daily tasks back at the bakery when a returning resident came by.

Each day he'd come by to pick up the same order, so by now it was standard to have it ready by a certain time.

Like clockwork he showed up, the gorgeous older man with his grey streaked hair that framed his bearded face oh so perfect.

You always wondered about the scar that sat around one of his sea blue eyes, but you never found the courage to ask.

You only knew his first name because the baker mentioned it once.

Daryl.

With rough, scarred hands he accepted the packaged food but remained in his spot.

"M'sorry, ya don't happen ta have sun leftovers, do ya? 'M headin' out fer a couple days 'n could use some extras." A little stunned by the sudden change in routine had you stammer a response neither of you could make out before you disappeared further into the back.

To your luck a fresh batch was just taken out of the oven, so you quickly grabbed a few buns and put them in a tea towel before moving back to the front.

"Here you go, fresh out of the oven." You smiled nervously as you held out the makeshift pouch, almost freezing as the calloused pads of his fingers brushed your skin while taking the bread from you.

With a charming as ever thanks he made his way out the door.

After the third time preparing the order for Daryl, who wasn't in town to come pick it up you were told to go take a day or two off, relax and go try and catch him come back home later during the day.

On your delivery routes and walks around the community you had caught wind of some kind of guard dog. You'd pick it up from time to time but today had been much more frequent.

You wondered what they meant. Maybe you'd ask Carol about it later.

The Kingdom was a nice place.

Each day there would be someone in the community's centre, playing some kind of instruments. Alone or in a group, it varied, but it was always nice to enjoy when you could.

You were enjoying it for so long you barely noticed the sun starting to set and Carol finding you. "Couldn't catch you at the bakery today, was told you were given the day off."

She came to sit beside you, enjoying the music and sharing a small snack she brought with you.

After a short while she got up, turning to you and offering a hand. "Come, we're gonna see something. If I have to believe the baker's words you're gonna love it."

Carol's words confused you, the thought of the baker casually talking about you with her wasn't really a happy one. Yet you followed her every step as she made her way to the front gates of the Kingdom.

"We're heading out? Without weapons or gear?" There was nothing around for you to see, confusion rising even more and edging on annoyance. Why wouldn't she just way where you were going?

You stood and watched as as she bounced on her heels with her arms behind her back. She was being all giddy about something and your mind could not come up with what on earth it could be.

Option after option ran through your mind until the guards spoke and the gates started to open.

Carol passed you a smile and raised her brows as she nudged her head towards the gate before turning back to watch.

You took a step closer to see what she was on about, and within the reach of your first step a figure came into view between the large gate doors.

"Holy shit." You stood frozen, much like those few days ago when Daryl suddenly asked for additions to his bakery order.

Despite the distance between the two of you and the low volume of your words, it looked like he heard you and gave you a smile and a small wave.

The scene before you became crazier by the second, on his shoulders a large deer that he carried without any visible strain but that wasn't all. Tied to his waist with a thick belt he lugged a tarp stacked with different hunted animals.

But something else felt off, beside the show of inhuman strength he seemed to possess.

Out from underneath his hair poked an ear, like it did sometimes before as well, although they seemed.. pointed?

His smile as well. You had seen the stubby pointed canines he had, but there were loads of people who had those slightly longer than average. Why did they look bigger now, accompanied with a similar set on his bottom teeth that surely weren't there before.

Also, was he fuzzier than normal? It was all hard to see in the dim light. It could just have been dirt stuck on his skin from being out in the woods so long. Surely he didn't bother cleaning up out there.

All the while Daryl dragged his game inside and stopped to report to Carol, glancing your way every so often as he could feel the energy radiating off you. He was enjoying the way you stared at him with confusion that slowly morphed into something he almost wanted to categorize as adoration.

It wasn't often Daryl got that look from anyone, so to say he was suddenly more intrigued by the baker woman was an understatement.

"Hey," Daryl's voice pulled you from your thoughts, staring at him without a single word running through your mind. "Wanna help unload all'a this at the butcher?"

A silent nod was all you managed as you followed him, hearing Carol say something but not entirely registering her words.

It was the next day when you saw him outside of his usual routine yet again, before the time of his usual pickup. The early summer sun was up when you made your rounds, and so was Daryl.

Across the street from the butcher’s place was a small area that used to be a children’s playground where you caught him doing pull-ups, flannel hanging open over his torso that you secretly expected to be way more toned, but instead you saw lightly furred soft flesh.

He hadn’t noticed you as you moved past to the butcher’s doorstep where you’d leave her order, quietly mumbling to yourself as you stared at Daryl again. “Lords, I want that man to fold me like a lawn chair..” You were so lost in the view of him pulling up his full weight with just one arm, his legs crossed under him, that you didn’t hear the butcher arrive until she pat you on the shoulder. “I may not be into men, but even I can see the appeal of that old dog bending me over the nearest surface.”

The sudden contact made you squeak and jump away, only to be laughed at as you stumbled over your words before running along on your delivery route.

It was only a couple of seconds after you were out of earshot that Daryl appeared on the butcher's steps, shoulders shaking as he softly laughed at the interaction he heard all too well just a moment ago. "Yer horrible, ya know tha'?" He bumped her shoulder aa he walked past her, into the shop to start working on all the kills he brought back the day before.

The butcher let out a breath through her nose. "And you love me for it, mutt." Behind her she closed the door and flipped off the hunter, sticking out her tongue behind his back. "'Course I love ya, ya crazy knife wieldin' hag."

The rest of the day after running off at the butcher went fairly normal, Daryl picked up his order and you cleaned the place alone with the baker having to leave early for a meeting.

It was only when you closed up shop for the day that it got weird. Daryl stood outside, seemingly waiting with his arms crossed under short sleeves so tight you wondered how they hadn't cut off circulation yet.

Without missing a beat he pushed himself off the wall and stepped beside you. "C'mon. Wanna show ya som'n." His gruff voice could tell you to eat dirt and you'd do it so naturally you followed suit, walking around the community until you reached the homes placed at the far end, right at the forest wall.

You took in the beat up old truck with the hood popped and one wheel missing, and next to it inside the garage with the missing door a bike that looked like it was made over years of collecting parts. Was this his home?

You followed him inside the garage, the door in the back opening and leading into a small kitchen littered with tools and materials. The tea towel you gave him the bread in laid neatly folded on the corner of the messy table, not a single grease or oil covered item near it.

In the moment of distraction Daryl's hand landed on your hip as he scooted past you in the narrow space between the counter and the table, his crotch brushing your ass in the process.

He felt you become rigid at his touch and apologized. "Sorry, doll. Place ain't made fer two."

His hand remained in its place, squeezing as he apoligized making you want to just give in to your haunting daydreams and let him take you right then and there.

"So, what did you wanna show me again?" You were fidgeting, trying to calm your nerves with Daryl so close.

"S' upstairs. Sum ol' items ya can dig through. See if ya wan' sum." With a hand placed on your hip he led you upstairs, steering you around the corner and through one of the doors, ending with your knees pressed against a bed.

Before you had a chance to ask anything one of Daryl's hands came around your front, resting on your lower belly as the other one snuck around your chest. "How 'bout ya be a good girl fer me an' lemme fold ya like a lawn chair." His beard drug across your skin as he came to bite your earlobe. "Tha's what ya want, righ'? Got all hot 'n bothered when the butcher mentioned me bendin 'er over the counter.." with one hand sneaking under your waistband and the other softly squeezing your breast he had you whimpering.

"S'fine, righ'?" His hands stilled at your silence. "Words, doll. Ain' gon do anythin' unless ya give me an okay." His hands moved to cafefully turn you around to look you in the eye, but you quickly buried your face in his chest, hands against him as well and all your body wanted was to squeeze.

Squeeze your fingers into his plump, soft chest. Squeeze your thighs together for some desparately needed friction.

You softly nodded, murmuring something Daryl couldn't make out.

"Need ta hear ya." Daryl softly caressed your shoulder, moving to tilt your head up so you'd look at him.

Your eyes scanned his face, soft and gentle. Eyes glistening a bright blue between the thick, red scarred line that cut right through an eyebrow. Your eyes wandered to his lips, partially hidden by the grey scruff that occupied the lower half of his face as you breathed. "I want this."

With your eyes on his lips you saw his concerned look change into a wicked grin that showed his pointed canines.

In a split second after that you were thrown onto the bed and caged between Daryl's limbs, his face buried in your neck as he nipped and sucked at your skin.

"Go on." He whispered. "Take 'em off. I know ya wan' it." Daryl was on his way to the hem of your shirt already as you slowly worked your hands towards the buttons of of his flannel, undoing them with trembling fingers, focus drifting away with every drag of his teeth across your flesh.

With some assistance your top halves were soon bare. Daryl's hands on your soft chest, tongue all over them as he sucked bruises to the underside.

Your fingers found his hair, pulling at the strands in pleasure as the others traced every scar on Daryl's body. From the small puncture wounds to the large gashes on his back, you caressed each one of them.

Letting out short, panted breaths your body burned wherever Daryl's fingers trailed, the rough pads leaving a path of tingling flesh from your chest down to your side, his tongue following down your body between where his hands had gone.

With the descent of his body his scarred frame moved out of reach, placing both hands in his hair and tugging as his teeth dug into your skin, earning a growl that sounded from deep in his chest.

With newfound interest you pulled again, your nails scratching his scalp in the process as your hips rolled up against his torso.

The low, scratchy moan that left him rumbled against your hip and had him quickly slide his hands down your hips. With no effort you felt your hips rise as two strong hands grabbed your ass and fabric slide off your body. Both your loose trousers and panties were shoved down the rounds of your hips as they lifted off the bed, the fabric pulled off your legs before your knees ended on both sides of your chest and Daryl's teeth were back just below your bellybutton where the meat of your folded torso met in perfect, bite-sized rolls.

You watched him litter your stomach in marks, clamping his jaw onto your thighs to color your skin in where only he could admire them.

"Daryl, please.."

Your voice had him lock eyes with you from where he sat between your legs and watched your pleading gaze with a soft nod before leaning back down and licking a broad stripe over the back of your thigh, moving to delve his tongue right into your centre.

Your moans of his name added fuel to the already raging fire, parting your lips with his tongue and drinking up all of your sweetness. With each stroke against your clit your walls clenched around nothing, muscles tensing but your body laying unmoved under Daryl's strong grip.

You squirm, hands finding his on your thighs as you whine and mewl, signaling you being close to finishing.

"Such pretty sounds, all fer me.." Daryl speaks against your clit before wrapping his lips around it once more and teasing you, making you hold back your own thigh so his fingers could join his mouth, stuffing two down your entrance with ease as he kept licking and sucking in tandem with the curls of his digits.

Your sounds increase in volume with Daryl's ministrations, crying out at your peak, clenching your walls tightly around his fingers as you finished.

"'Ere, lemme stretch those legs fer ya." With gentle hands he laid your legs flat against the bed on either side of him, allowing the blood flow to return while you came down from your high.

You watched him with hazy eyes, on his knees between your legs tugging at the button and zipper of his black jeans. Beneath the oh so inviting trail of dark hair he lowered the layers still on him to reveal his thick, hard cock.

Your view was close to perfection, a gorgeous old man between your spread legs. The lines of his body like rings on a tree, showing signs of age and survival. From the scar at his collarbone, at the edge of the soft dusting of chest hair down to his thick strong legs he was removing his clothes from he was like a piece of art for you to admire as you desired.

And gods, you desired him.

"Ya look like ya wanna eat me alive." He looked down at you, one hand running through his hair while the other slowly stroked his cock.

You licking your lips as you stared at his impressive length was all he needed to ler himself fall forward and catch himself right before he'd make contact with you, calmly catching your lips in a deep kiss. With your tongue against his lips you asked for more and he obliged almost immediately, parting his lips and swiping his tongue against yours, lips moulding together in percect harmony until you desperately needed air.

Your hand lingered on the side of his head, thumb caressing the scar around his eye.

"What's the story on this one?" Daryl couldn't get enough of that look on your face. The one filled with curiosity, not a speck of fear or disgust on you.

"Old girlfrien' decided she didn' like me no more." He averted your gaze as he remembered the fight in the cabin back then, and the serrated edge of the knife catching the skin of his face. He deliberately left out the terms his then lover called him as she chased him out the door with a shotgun. That was a tale for another time.

Right now all he wanted was to ravish the woman underneath him.

The setting sun caught his eyes and for a fraction of a second they seemed to glow, icy blue in a sea of black. When they looked back at you it was gone, a pair of normal blue eyes looking at you.

He shook off the memories and brought his focus back to the now, to you underneath him, the scent of your arousal, and his painfully hard cock.

Daryl adjusted his position, his length rubbing your folds in the process earning a soft moan from you.

"Gonna make more o'them pretty noises fer me, doll?" His hand reached for his member and rubbed the tip between your folds, spreading your wetness around, listening to your soft mutters of "yes" and "please".

Daryl needed no more convincing, nuzzling your noses together before kissing you deeply as he slowly inches himself inside of you. The initial stretch hurt and you couldn't help but groan into the kiss at how big he was. His cock was way girthier than just two fingers, and it had been years since your last time before this.

Daryl's hand moved down your body, slowly rubbing your clit to distract from the stretch. His kisses deepened, your tongue sliding past his teeth, feeling around his fangs with fascination.

A soft whimper sounded from you as he bottomed out, making him halt a moment to let you adjust. "Ya tell me when yer good, 'kay?"

You nodded and answered a soft "uhuh." and a bit later, after a few experimental squeezes you told him you were good.

With his hand still on your hip Daryl carefully pulled back and slid inside at a slow and steady pace, letting you get used to him for a few thrusts until your heels came up to dig in his rear.

"Hmhm, eager are we?" Daryl grinned against your neck, taking the hint and quickening his pace. His hands had your hips in a bruising grasp, his hips snapping against yours earning soft gasps on each impact.

"H.. hah.. ah Daryl fuck--" you were a beautiful piece beneath him, with your head thrown to the side, arm covering your eyes and chest heaving and shaking with each thrust.

"So good, doll. So pretty for me." Daryl was huffing out a laugh, moving his hands off your hips to grab at your lower legs. Deep, short thrusts continued as he moved your legs from around him back to up beside your torso, knees pressed against your shoulders as he fucked into you with your ass up off the matress.

He was so deep all of a sudden it had you see stars, crying out his name aa your orgasm crashed down on you.

You were sweating all over, breaths deep to get enough air and body heavy. With your eyes closed you laid still, getting the air back into your lungs as Daryl teased you by softly rutting into your overly sensitive cunt.

"Don' tell me yer tired already, I haven't even finished yet.." His thrusts changed angles and now brushed your clit, having you mewl out pleas he chose to ignore. "Tha's more like it, music, those sounds o' yers." His thrusts continued, as did your pleas. You didn't even know what you were begging for but the knot in your belly was quickly returning in time with his thrusts getting sloppier, not long after crying out again as you came a few thrusts before je did too.

There were tears rolling down your face, laying limp on the bed. Daryl's hands had let go of your legs again, letting you stretch them for thr short moment before he was fully hard again.

Unexpectedly Daryl flipped you onto your stomach and moving your hips around to his preference.

"Time fer round two?" He wached you nod wit your face in the pillows, moving to slowly press inside you once more and bending down to press soft kisses to your back. Your mind went back to being hazy a few thrusts in with how good his cock felt at this new angle fist gripping at the pillows beneath you that muffled your moans.

His hands were all over your backside, kneading every soft surface he could reach as he continued his steady pace.

Your sounds were like music to his ears, wishing to hear them every night, over and over again until your throat was so soar he had to bring you medicine and nurse you back to health. Your curiosity was already enough to make him want you, never having anyone radiate such a type of energy towards him and it has him hooked. But having you here like this now had him almost addicted, wanting to keep you, claim you but he knew he didn't have the right to do so. He didn't deserve it, for he was sort of still lying to you about large aspects of his life.

But if he could make you feel this good now in this moment, that was all he cared about.

He fucked you from behind until you came once, twice and then moved you onto your side, holding onto one of your legs against his chest as je continued rutting into you, earning two more orgasms from you right before finishing himself for the second time.

As he came down from his high he stared at you, passed out and asleep beneath him. Ever so carefully he moved you so he could lay down as well, pulling you against his chest as he settled to drift off too.

It was morning by the time you woke up, groaning in pain as your legs resisted being moved off the bed. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and shot up off the bed. "Ah, god damn oww.." Your ass hit the matress again, the crunchy layer of dried fluids scratching your thighs.

"Oh for fuck's sake I'm gonna be late!" You stumbled around the place searching for the shower to scrub yourself clean, picking up your shirt off the floor and sniffing it. "Nope, can't wear that. Shit!" You found the bathroom and were vigorously scrubbing your legs and quickly back to digging through all of Daryl's drawers in a panic, trying to find something decent to wear.

"Ya know ya can just ask, right?" You didn't even register what he said and grumbled back at him. "I don't have time, okay? I'm already gonna be late for work and I got nothing to wear because my own clothes stink so I'm gonna have to run home first and be even later."

Face down in a drawer your attention was pulled by a short whistle, and the second you were up and turned towards the noise an entire outfit found your face.

Underwear, socks, simple sweats and a flanel.

"Why do you have a stash of women's clothes?" You were genuinely curious but that didn't stop you from struggling to put on the clothes with your entire body aching. "I don't even know how I'm gonna walk my rounds. Everything hurts.."

You were already dreading today and it had barely even started.

"Need me ta make yer rounds? Got time so I don' mind." Daryl was following you down the stairs now, hands ready to catch you as you stumbled, not wanting you to fall.down the stairs on your wobbly legs.

"No way I'm letting you do my rounds. I don't want the whole community on my neck tomorrow about why I sent you." You were halfway out the door already, walking as fast as possible and waving Daryl off on your not so fast way to work.

You arrived late and got told off for it, but the baker quickly changed his demeanor once he saw you limp. He gave you a quick rundown of what he had planned to do at the bakery and let you stay in as he took over your rounds, which you were very thankful for.

The front door bell rang and Carol appeared, a while after Daryl had dropped by for his usual, and bringing in a bag with your clothes.

"Hey, didn't see you this morning." Carol was as cheery as ever, her hair braided and her smile kind and motherly.

"Yeah," you leaned against the counter, wincing as you moved your weight. "Hurt my leg yesterday, so I'm in here thr whole day now." You tried to shrug it off, not feeling like coming up with a decent enough lie. Not that you needed one anyways.

"Which clearly has nothing to do with you spending the night at Daryl's place?" A knowing smile spread on her face as she looked you up and down, arms crossed over her chest, laughing as she watched your eyes about to pop out of your head in response. "You're wearing my emergency clothes. Looks like we have about the same size."

You felt blessed with today being a quiet day and could clean while you chatted with Carol and closed up shop after, with the baker off again while you ran the bakery.

"There's something wrong with that man." You sighed as you bent down to lock up the garage door, groaning as you came back up. "He's like, what? Almost sixty? And he still held out longer than me. I swear I passed out once before he was done."

Carol was giggling all the way with your bags in her hand. "He's fifty-four, but alright."

"Yeah, okay. That fifty-four year old would have kept going if I hadn't clocked out after lord knows how ma--"

"Five, doll." Daryl's voice suddenly behind you had you jump up and almost fall if it wasn't for his quick response to steady you.

"How the hell are you fine?" Your question was directed at Daryl, but your eyes were on Carol who was having the time of her life seeing you be so confused about her best friend's energy levels.

"There's a lot about Daryl you don't know yet, dear." She winked at her friend, who only grunted in response.

"Oh really? When are you planning on telling me all about yourself? Do I need to cook you a romantic dinner?" Your words came out with way too much excitement, letting out how eager you were to learn about Daryl.

"Ya'll learn eventually. No need ta rush things, righ'?" His voice kept cool, but Carol read his body language like a book and quickly saw he needed help to cross that line. Him scratching the side of his fingers, and obsessively wiping the hair out of his face, eyes looking everywhere but at you. They were all tells, and Carol felt bad for him.

"Why don't you two stay over for dinner? Ezekiel won't make it home in time so I'd be all alone otherwise." Carol quickly set up a plan, making it all seem like coincidence but in her mind she had all the steps figured out already.

"I'd love to stay over, but only if it's not too much effort." Peeking past Daryl you saw her wave your assumption off and assure it was fine.

And thus you three ended up around Carol's nice dinner table in the King's home.

Somehow you expected it to be fancy and pristine, but that would never happen with how selfless the King was.

The food was nice and Carol had gifted you some stronger painkillers she had laying around to ease your body, you all just chatted about your day, and you thought your subtle questions about him were going okay, until Daryl excused himself to go smoke what seemed in a hurry.

"It's okay honey, Daryl has a hard time opening up to people. He needs to find the right moments to talk." Carol gave you a loving shoulder squeeze and pointed you towards the back door where Daryl had just left through.

"He loves the forest, he feels safe there." With a wink she sent you off.

You carefully approached him and settled in the doorframe. "Hey," Your voice was soft as to not startle him. "Wanna go for a walk? Outside the walls."

With a nod he got up and offered you his hand to take, and with a sigh he let a smile come through. "Carol really set us up, didn't she?"

You laughed along with him and decided then you wouldn't push him, and let him talk at his pace.

With your gear gathered the two of you found yourselves walking along the tree line in silence.

"M' sorry." Daryl kept his eyes on the ground where he walked, but with his pinkie he touched yours and hooked them together.

"When Carol brought ya to welcome me back after the huntin' I was confused. But when I felt yer curious stares instead of gettin' negative 'n scared I got.." He fell quiet, his hand pulling away from yours but you quickly grabbed it fully, rubbing your thumb across his knuckles.

But you stayed quiet, and just walked with his hand in yours.

After a long stretch of only hearing the ground crunch under your shoes Daryl stopped.

"S'where I stay when I go out each month." You stood a few feet away from a rock wall, overgrown with green and a small clearing in it. Looking around you there was no way of being seen here from any angle.

You also saw trees with torn off branches and what looked like deep claw marks. "Should'a shown ya 'fore last night."

You looked over at him and made sure he saw you smile. "You really think anything would have changed my mind?" Your hands came up to his face to hold his gaze on you, hoping he'd see the truth in your eyes.

"I know yer not lyin'. Ya haven't lied since we started talkin'." His hand moved to touch the small of your back, the other one gesturing at the overgrown wall. "C'mon."

Daryl had his knife ready as he moved past some hanging vines with your hand in his to keep you close.

The area was void of any dead, except for the picked clean bones covering the ground.

And the seemingly random pile of fabrics and signs of humans staying here.

He let go of your hand and let you wander around, staring at every little thing.

You kneeled down off to the side, getting up to move some vines to let in more light before walking back.

"You stay here?" Your fingers traced the print in the sand, glancing over at Daryl who was slowly stepping closer with calculated steps, like a true huntsman would to not startle an animal.

Quietly he leaned down next to you, and without saying a word moved his hand to the print in the loose sand.

The world went blurry around Daryl's hand as you watched it change. Muscles under the skin warping to reshape as flesh darkened and nails grew, and then fit perfectly into the indentation.

Daryl was hyper aware of everything around him, senses almost overwhelming him as he felt the worms crawl under the earth and heard the birds fly over outside. But even with his senses running on overdrive he couldn't find a single negative feeling coming off you.

You stared at his hand, now more a claw and it felt like everything suddenly made sense.

His strength, the way he heard things from so far off, his way of using terms that didn't make sense and that strange glow in his eyes.

Daryl's mind kept showing you running away, crying as he got closer each time.

Instead, there in the small cave like structure he called home once a month, you reached out your hand and placed it on top of his changed one.

"I don't regret being curious." Your shoulder rested against his, slowly easing into more contact. "And I'm still happy I went home with you, and came here to see this. To see you." Your weight was now entirely resting against his side, and for the first time since he sat down he dared to look at you.

You, who laid comfortably against his side.

"I'm honestly kinda glad you showed me this." You watched Daryl raise his brows at your words. "Suddenly your strange but interesting things make sense. Kinda obvious for someone to be so strong, or have glowy eyes when they're not human."

Your hand gave his a comfortable squeeze. "I hope you'll show me all of this you one day." With a finger pressed to his knuckles you moved your head to kiss his cheek.

"Close yer eyes fer a minute." Daryl moved to stand after he kissed your head, moving behind you.

Noises filled the air. Clothes being undone and landing on the floor.

And then cracking. Tearing and groaning. Coughing and growling, a thud that acompanied a shove against your backside that almost made you turn around, but je asked not to, and you were going to respect his wish.

Once the noises died down and all you heard was deep breathing you opened your eyes again, staring straight forward as you waited. Waited for something to signal it was okay to turn.

That something was a press against your shoulder, a press and a huff of air against your exposed neck.

From the edge of your vision a nose peeked, making you turn and stare right into his scarred eye.

"Wow." It caught you off guard and you stubled backwards just a small bit, staring and laughing at yourself for falling on your ass. "Okay. Big guy. That's ..wow."

You followed his movements as he walked into your view. And you recognised him. All ofrhe features that made Daryl look like himself changed along with him, from the dark, shaggy mane to the scar and beard. Even his tattoos were spots of darker fur, especially clear on the lighter areas.

But, still..

"Wait. So Carol knows about," you wildly gestured at his entire self. "you know, this. She's seen you? And what about the butcher? That comment of hers, she knew."

You gasped in realisation. "You were testing me! You could hear us, you were there on purpose oh my god."

Daryl only sat and listened to your rambling. If anyone had asked him how he envisioned this scene to go, he would have never guessed this to be the way. Not that he was complaining or anything, he liked this.

He liked you, and you liked him too, even in this shape.

With a tap to your hand and his paw covering his eyes he asked you to look away once more, changing back to his human self and getting dressed before coming to press a kiss to your temple. "So, ya sure this's all fine?"

You stood up to join him at eye level. "You're either the most dense man ever, or are still convinced you don't deserve love just because you're different." Your deadpan look spoke more than needed.

"Yeah, alrigh'. Sorry." He shook his head in apology.

"You literally just turned into a goddamn werewolf." You paused. "Wait. That is correct, right? You're a werewolf? I mean, I don't wanna assume and be wrong, or offensive.."

He kept his head low but nodded, telling you were correct in your observations.

You stepped into his space and peppered his face with kisses, grabbing his hands to fake a sense of chaining him to you and it worked. He let himself melt into you and accept your affection.

Your love.

"Let's go home?"

With a nod he stepped back go retrieve your items. "Yeah. Home's good."

The walk home was silent, only sporadic and very random questions with short and simple answers.

Only when he dropped you off at home he spoke full sentences again. "I wan' ya t'move in with me."

You shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, okay. But we gotta clean the place first."

With a nod he agreed and let you go for the day. Only a week later moving the last of your items into his home after strategically cleaning and rearranging his home to accomodate two people.

That night, in bed all cuddled up together after a shower, Daryl pressed his lips against your jaw and uttered three simple words.

"I love ya."

A/N: Okay yeah damn that became way longer than I originally planned. But it wad fun! Hope you enjoyed it~

#sometimes i write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl smut #daryl x reader #twd #twd daryl #twd x reader #the walking dead #twd smut #twd au #werewolves #werewolf

511 notes · View notes

slightly-knot-insane · 2 months ago

Note

Hi! Are you still taking orders or something? If so, I have an idea for you~ For example, a werewolf × a Fox!the reader is like enemies-lovers. Where we tease him all the time, and it really annoys him, ho-ho~

I was listening to a song when I got the inspo for this. It's in Croatian, by a band called Tutti Frutti, and the lyrics go like this (my translation):

Kao srna gonjena preko snijega duboka (Like a pursued doe in the deep snow) Iza moga ramena skloni se od lovaca (Hide from hunters behind my shoulder) S oba oka sklopljena (With both of your eyes closed)

Thank you for the ask! This fic got a bit long so I'll split it in two, I apologize ^^'

Don't You Dare! (part 1)

Monstertober 2024 - day 13 [ Mating / Hunting season ] by @/ozzgin

[ m!werewolf x fox hybrid fem!reader ]

You two grew up together. Since your clans have lived next to each other peacefully sharing a vast forest for many years, that wasn't so unusual. You and Ash were friends when you were kids, but he was too shy and aloof for your teen tastes, and you slowly grew distant.

Today, for the first time, you were tasked of guarding the eastern part of the forest. The hunting season began just a few days ago.

"Ugh, you're so booooring," you complain. "Let's at least play a game."

"We're supposed to be watchful," he retorts.

"You know hunters never come this far so early. It will be a peaceful evening, I just know it. Come on, Ash, truth or dare?" The werewolf huffs and keeps walking in front of you. How dares he ignore you! You take your staff and smack his ass.

Ash jumps from shock and swings his strong arm, ready to strike. With a swift leap backward, you escape him, giggling. When he realizes it was only you teasing him, he growls. He is kinda cute when he's angry. "Don't do that! I could've..."

"What? You're too big and slow for me. Truth or dare, Ash? I'll slap your cute ass until you accept."

His werewolf ears fall behind and he awkwardly rubs the back of his head. With another huff, he continues walking. "Uhh... Truth?"

"Have you ever orally pleased someone?"

He trips and turns toward you in shock. "That's a really private question!"

"That's the game, pup, you know the rules." You loved calling him pup because he was three years younger than you and everyone knows werewolves mature slower than fox hybrids.

He scowls at you but answers, as quietly as he could: "Yes..."

"Oh you're a big man now! Good job, pup, I'm glad you know how to please your partners." He shakes his head and continues walking, faster than before. You run after him. "I choose dare!" You're sure he heard you, but he was quiet for quite a while before asking his question.

"I dare you to—" but he suddenly stops and sniffs the wind. He looks at you and and swallows hard. "D-do you know you're... you're about to..."

Why is he so uncomfortable all of a sudden? "Ash, speak up, I can't hear you!" you shout, impatiently dragging your fox tail across the ground. But the silly big pup in front of you continues being awkward. You can sense he is blushing, even though you can't see that on his canine face. "ASH!"

A rifle blast shuts you up, and a bullet flies dangerously near Ash's face. Hunters!

Instinct immediately kicks in and you start running. You are faster than Ash, but you would never leave him behind. Hunters are apparently too far away because they don't shoot again. Still, your heart is racing, fear and excitement electrifying your blood and also... also...

Oh no.

Your cycle. You're in heat! It's still early and you can focus on other things, but... You need to get to a safe place, quickly.

"Ash, I'm—"

"I know," he immediately replies, checking your surroundings. "There is a waterfall not far from here. The water will hide us and our tracks."

You change direction and very soon you hear the rushing in the bottom of a ravine. Of course, you and Ash have no problem getting down safely and you jump into the shallow stream. It is cold and fast, but walking upstream will confuse your pursuers. Also, you need to warn your clans as soon as possible. Yes, you need to focus on that. Only that. Not on how tall Ash is or how good he smells. Or how you always thought he was smart and sweet. And how you saw him swimming once. Or how you wanted to push your finger into his sheath and see what's inside. Or how... shit.

Your pussy started aching, itching, pulsating from need. You had to press it, rub it, stimulate it somehow or you'll go mad. You squeeze your thighs together, pushing your fist against your entrance, with a weak whimper - and you trip, almost dropping your staff. "Fuck, Ash. I can't hold it."

Ash stops but doesn't help you - he hasn't said a single word the entire time or looked at you. And he was constantly trying to walk upwind from you. "Do it quickly and we'll continue. I'll... keep watch."

That idiot pup. "Ash..." Your voice got a note of urgency. "Don't make me beg."

His ears perk up and he stares at you all big eyed, looking like a virgin doe-eyed buck. You roll your eyes, irritated. "Just my luck - I'm horny as a rabbit, and stuck between rifles and a cherry boy. Maybe rifles will give me..."

You are interrupted by a hand grabbing your throat. The other palm is on your ass squeezing it like a sponge. Ash is in your face, snout almost touching your nose. He is quietly growling, but you feel that tremble in your core.

"You chose dare, didn't you?" he asks you. His palm slides from your ass, follows the roundness of your hips and cups your mound. The tip of his finger immediately finds your aching clit. You gasp. "I dare you not to scream when you cum with my knot inside you."

[ part 2 ]

#monster #monster lover #monster boyfriend #monster imagine #werewolf lover #werewolf romance #werewolf #fox hybrid reader #werewolf x reader #werewolf x you #monster x you #monster x reader #monster fic #x reader #slightlyknotinsane #ski.doc #ski.monstertober

271 notes · View notes

jakesangel · 5 months ago

Text

jake showing you brisbane around ꣑୧

lets go with bikes! youll see the beaches looks so much better by bikes than by feet baby ! your boyfriends says with a smile, his teeth full on display. it hasnt been an hour the both of you arrived in australia and jake is already excited to show you his favorite childhood places, the second your suitcases hit the floor. jake, we just arrived... you start, but seeing his smile slowly fading away, already makes you feel sad : him being the best boyfriend, always agreeing to everything you ask, you have to let him pass today. sooo where do we start ?

there you are, both of you biking next to each other, the australian's sun hitting jake's long hair perfectly. it feels so nice isn't it, my love, he talks-yells as the wind hits both of you. you can not see his face but you can hear how happy he is right at this moment : it's not everyday he can actually visit his hometown n further more, you being here with him. it is ! as you ride thru a beautiful garden. we're at the South Bank Parklands baby! he slowes down as kids is surrounding the both of you, coming down from his bike, i used to play a lot here when i was really young. if i couldn't make it to the beach, i would just go in the wheel wiht my friend after class and then walk back home next to the river. it's sooo beautiful at night, we should defo do a picnic tomorrow here. he is now looking at you, eyes shiny of dreaming of taking you out for the first time here. you break the eye contact, wanting to fully take in your environment, that sounds lovely jake, it does seem so beautiful at night.

after multiple stops he finally showing his favorite fishing place, cylinder beach, there we go baby, the fishing spot ! he stops his bike to the bridge's barriere and come close to you helping you to get off yours. he hold his hands to you, wanting to finish that quick visit going hand to hand. i've spent so many hours here n got my first fish here. he started, i've always wanted to show you this place bby. the sun has started to set, the orange sky highlighting jake's beauty. his infamous smile is somehow prettier in australia, showing a raw-er n better version of him, the true jake, unfolding in front you of n you only. before going to korea that was the last place i went to. i needed to see one last time and just think of what my future will be looking like. he stops at his track, the end of the bruges right in front of you and helps you sit down, feet's swinging on top of the water. his arms encircle you, your head naturally coming to his shoulder. i'm glad i went to korea, now i've got to hold my future in my arms, pressing a kiss on your temple.

perm tag list ( open ) : @berryyuni @stwrjvke @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @mioons @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @jlheon @ghostiiess @theyluvfrankocean

214 notes · View notes

ofbreathandflame-archive · 2 years ago

Text

With the rise of booktok/booktwt, there's been this weird movement against literary criticism. It's a bizarre phenomenon, but this uptick in condemnation of criticism is so stifling. I understand that with the rise of these platforms, many people are being reintroduced into the habit of reading, which is why at the base level, I understand why many 'popular' books on booktok tend to be cozier.

The argument always falls into the 'this book means too much to me' or 'let people enjoy things,' which is rhetoric I understand -- at least fundamentally. But reading and writing have always been conduits for criticism, healthy natural criticism. We grow as writers and readers because of criticism. It's just so frustrating to see arguments like "how could you not like this character they've been the x trauma," or "why read this book if you're not going to come out liking it," and it's like...why not. That has always been the point of reading. Having a character go through copious amounts of trauma does not always translate to a character that's well-crafted. Good worldbuilding doesn't always translate to having a good story, or having beautiful prose doesn't always translate into a good plot.

There is just so much that goes into writing a story other than being able to formulate tropable (is that a word lol) characters. Good ideas don't always translate into good stories. And engaging critically with the text you read is how we figure that out, how we make sure authors are giving us a good craft. Writing is a form of entertainment too, and just like we'd do a poorly crafted show, we should always be questioning the things we read, even if we enjoy those things.

It's just werd to see people argue that we shouldn't read literature unless we know for certain we are going to like it. Or seeing people not be able to stand honest criticism of the world they've fallen in love with. I love ASOIAF -- but boy oh boy are there a lot of problems in the story: racial undertones, questionable writing decisions, weird ness overall. I also think engaging critically helps us understand how an author's biases can inform what they write. Like, HP Lovecraft wrote eerie stories, he was also a raging racist. But we can argue that his fear of PoC, his antisemitism, and all of his weird fears informed a lot of what he was writing. His writing is so eerie because a lot of that fear comes from very real, nasty places. It's not to say we have to censor his works, but he influences a lot of horror today and those fears, that racial undertone, it is still very prevalent in horror movies today. That fear of the 'unknown,'

Gone with the Wind is an incredibly racist book. It's also a well-written book. I think a lot of people also like confine criticism to just a syntax/prose/technical level -- when in reality criticism should also be applied on an ideological level. Books that are well-written, well-plotted, etc., are also -- and should also -- be up for criticism. A book can be very well-written and also propagate harmful ideologies. I often read books that I know that (on an ideological level), I might not agree with. We can learn a lot from the books we read, even the ones we hate.

I just feel like we're getting to the point where people are just telling people to 'shut up and read' and making spaces for conversation a uniform experience. I don't want to be in a space where everyone agrees with the same point. Either people won't accept criticism of their favorite book, or they think criticism shouldn't be applied to books they think are well written. Reading invokes natural criticism -- so does writing. That's literally what writing is; asking questions, interrogating the world around you. It's why we have literary devices, techniques, and elements. It's never just taking the words being printed at face value.

You can identify with a character's trauma and still understand that their badly written. You can read a story, hate everything about it, and still like a character. As I stated a while back, I'm reading Fourth Wing; the book is terrible, but I like the main character. The worldbuilding is also terrible, but the author writes her PoC characters with respect. It's not hard to acknowledge one thing about the text, and still find enough to enjoy the book. And authors grow when we're honest about what worked and what didn't work. Shadow and Bone was very formulaic and derivative at points, but Six of Crows is much more inventive and inclusive. Veronica Roth's Carve the Mark had some weird racial problems, but Chosen Ones was a much better book in terms of representation. Percy Jackson is the same way. These writers grow, not just by virtue of time, but because they were critiqued and listened to that critique. C.S. Lewis and Tolkien always publically criticized each other's work. Zora Neale Hurston and Langston Hughes had a legendary friendship and back and forth with one another's works which provides so much insight into the conversations black authors and creatives were having.

Writing has always been about asking questions; prodding here and there, critiquing. It has always been a conversation, a dialogue. I urge people to love what they read, and read what they love, but always ask questions, always understand different perspectives, and always keep your mind open. Please stop stifling and controlling the conversations about your favorite literature, and please understand that everyone will not come out with the same reading experience as you. It doesn't make their experience any less valid than yours.

#long post #literary critique #literary criticism #booktok #books & libraries #booktwitter #but yeah it’s really hard for me to embrace booktube #and BookTok when the conversations that are most prevalent #are the ones telling people to not be critical of what they’re reading #esp the ones who desparately don’t want to understand differing opinions #‘how could you not like this’ or ‘how could you hate this character’#easily #because I can #a traumatic backstory isn’t gonna erase a bad story #it isn’t going to make a character or book compelling #more trauma doesn’t make the story more complex #see: with fourth wing.#thank you for reading this long rant #congrats if you make it to the tags💀😭

1K notes · View notes

cosmerelists · 1 month ago

Text

Cosmere Characters at Disneyland

As requested by @jellybeanzrock :)

Listen...I'm sure that SOMEONE on tumblr already did a post like this but I CANNOT find it. If anyone knows what I'm talking about, let me know so that I can link it! I think it was maybe about roller coasters...?

Anyway, here's my take!

1. Steris: Arrives with the perfect plan

Yes, it is in a binder.

Steris: Breakfast: acquired. Steris: We are all sunscreened, we have full water bottles, and we're already 8 minutes ahead of schedule. Steris: According to the plan, this is the optimal time to use our Fast Pass for Space Mountain. Wax: Space Mountain just closed for repairs! Steris: Tch. Turn to Plan C, everyone. I was ready for this.

2. Shallan: Mostly wants to sketch the wildlife

Shallan: Guys, stop! There's a new cat over there! Kaladin: Are you sure? It looks just like all the other cats. Adolin: Are you blind? That one's a tabby. The last one was gray, and the on before that was orange! Kaladin: ...Tabby and orange are different? Shallan: Both of you, hush! You're going to wake him!

3. Lightsong: Won't leave the Tiki Room

[Full disclosure: This is my wife's favorite "ride."]

Llarimar: Your Grace, are you sure you don't want to do...anything else today? Lightsong: This is the only part of the park that's empty and air-conditioned, Spook! Lightsong: Plus, I like the singing birds. Lightsong: They remind me of home.

4. Adolin: Gets too into the Mickey ears

He really should have brought an extra, empty suitcase.

Kaladin [eyes narrowed]: Those aren't the ears you were wearing yesterday. Adolin: Well, duh! These are my breakfast ears. The ears are sunnyside-up eggs! Shallan: He'll change into his midmorning ears after. Adolin: Plus, I have some fun ones for lunch! Not to mention my afternoon ears, my slightly fancy dinner ears... Kaladin: You have a problem. Adolin [waving a hand airily]: You just hate fun.

5. Kaladin: Just really likes the Soarin' Ride

[Full discloser: that is my favorite ride]

Syl: ...You know this is kinda an old man ride, right? Kaladin: I like it. It's peaceful. Syl: We're not even flying! We can fly for real! Kaladin: I like the part where they spray orange-blossom scent. Syl: I can't believe I bonded an 80-year-old man...

6. Syl: Really likes the characters

[Light spoilers for Wind and Truth -- just skip to #7 if you want to avoid!]

Syl: [full-size, now wearing a princess dress] Syl: Children keep asking for my photograph! Syl: I'm not sure who "Elsa" is, but I think I'm flattered!

7. Vin: Just really likes the Tower of Terror ride

It's the one that's just a huge vertical drop.

Vin: It's like jumping off a tall building, only there are more people around you, screaming. Elend: And nobody dies! Vin: And nobody dies.

8. Lift: Is mainly interested in eating every type of churro

She heard there were seven unique types, and she's determined to eat every one.

Wyndle: T-This is reminding me of you and the pancakes in Yeddaw. Wyndle: ...There isn't a dangerous Herald hunting us, is there? Lift: No, but I think that giant Mouse was lookin' at me funny.

9. Kelsier: Keeps ending up where he's not supposed to be

Kelsier: Why would they even HAVE a "forbidden" island clearly visible called Discovery Island if you're not supposed to sneak over to it? Kelsier: It's like they put up a big flashing sign that said "Secrets Here! Come and get 'em!" Dockson: I can't believe you got us kicked out of Disneyland. Kelsier: They started it.

10. Gavinor: Is the most serious child at Disneyland

Gavinor: [Gazing at the Haunted Mansion, unsmiling.] Dalinar: Do you want to go on that ride, Gavinor? Gavinor: Okay. Gavinor: Do you think one of the ghosts might be my dad? Dalinar: ... Dalinar: I don't think mouse ears can fix this.

#cosmere #cosmerelists #Steris #Shallan #Lightsong #Adolin #Kaladin #Gavinor #Kelsier #Vin #Syl

82 notes · View notes

dovesdreaming · 4 months ago

Text

The eye of the storm

Summary: it takes reader getting injured while out storm chasing with Kate for her to realise she loves reader.

Request

Masterlist

Warnings: none

The air was thick with anticipation as Kate Carter checked her weather radar one last time. The storm was brewing, and today promised to be one of the most intense chases yet. But before the whirlwind of adrenaline could sweep her away, she paused, glancing over at you. You were sitting on the tailgate of the truck, your eyes scanning the horizon, already lost in the possibilities of the chase ahead. The sky was overcast, the kind of gray that held a promise. A promise of thunder, of lightning, of something exhilarating. But for Kate, at that moment, the only thing that mattered was you.

“You ready for this?" she asked, walking over to you while slightly tilting her head, her voice teasing but warm. You turned to her, a smile breaking through the excitement. "Ready as I'll ever be. Though, I have to admit, it feels like we're waiting for something to happen more than usual”.

Kate chuckled, leaning against the truck beside you. "Isn't that always the case with storms? They keep us on edge until they decide to show their hand”. “True" you said, your gaze meeting hers. "But maybe it's not just the storm keeping me on edge this time” you teased, this was common for you and Kate to do. Always finding new ways to slightly and discreetly flirt with one another, yet nothing ever came of the comments, maybe that was for the better even if you wished something would.

She tilted her head slightly, a smirk playing on her lips. "Oh? And what else could possibly be making you nervous?". “Maybe it's the thought of spending the entire day with you” you admitted, your voice dropping to a more serious tone, which was unusual for you and kate, usually trying to keep the air light especially before a chase. For a moment, Kate was taken aback, but the warmth in your eyes softened her reaction. She reached out, her hand brushing against yours. "You don't need to be nervous about that. We're in this together, remember?". You nodded, squeezing her hand gently. "I know. I just... I want to make sure you're safe out there”. Kate smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. It was a rare moment of vulnerability for you, and it tugged at her heart in a way she hadn't expected. She had always been focused on the chase, on the science, on the thrill. But now, there was something else or rather, someone else, who made her want to be more than just a storm chaser. “Same goes for you” she replied softly, her thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "I'll keep you safe, promise”.

You shared a quiet moment, the impending storm momentarily forgotten as you both reveled in the quiet before it all began. It was a simple, comfortable silence, the kind that made everything else feel distant, like the eye of the storm where all was calm and still. “Guess we should get going," you finally said, breaking the silence before you became too absorbed in the moment and the usual gaping hole could open in your stomach to crush any hope you had for things between you and Kate. “Yeah” Kate agreed, though she found herself reluctant to let go of your hand. "Let's catch ourselves a tornado”.

The chase had been everything you'd anticipated, chaotic, intense, and absolutely thrilling. The storm system was stronger than any you'd encountered together before, and for hours you and Kate had worked seamlessly, driving through rough terrain, dodging debris, and getting as close as safely possible to the swirling vortexes that danced across the plains. But as the storm began to wind down, so did your luck.

You’d been repositioning, trying to get a better angle on a particularly photogenic funnel cloud when the unexpected happened. A rogue gust of wind, more powerful than either of you had anticipated, hit the truck. Before you could react, the vehicle was flipped, and the world turned into a violent blur.

When the dust settled, Kate found herself crawling out of the wreckage, her ears ringing, but otherwise unharmed. The same couldn’t be said for you. Panic gripped her as she called out your name, her voice breaking as she saw you lying on the ground, a few feet from where the truck had landed. You were unconscious, blood seeping from a gash on your forehead. “No, no, no” Kate muttered, rushing to your side. She pressed her fingers to your neck, relieved to feel a faint but steady pulse. But you were hurt, badly. She could see the pain in your features even as you remained unconscious. “Stay with me, please” she whispered, her hands trembling as she reached for the emergency kit she always kept in the truck. She did her best to stop the bleeding, to keep you stable, but the fear that she was losing you gnawed at her insides. The wind whipped at her face and hands as she patched you up the best she could, she felt like ice but her mind was focused on keeping you alive. She kept her body close to yours and never let her eyes stray away from you.

In that moment, surrounded by the fading storm and the wreckage of what had been such a promising day, Kate realized just how much you meant to her. This was more than a partnership, more than a shared thrill for chasing the storms and a whole lot more than a friendship. She loved you-deeply, completely. The thought of losing you was more terrifying than any tornado she’d ever faced. “Don’t you dare leave me”she whispered, her voice cracking with emotion. “You can’t leave before I even got to tell you I love you, I can’t do this without you!” She half yelled now with tears brimming her eyes, the majority of her words were swept away with the wind.

It took an eternity for help to arrive, but Kate never left your side. When the paramedics finally took over, she was there, holding your hand, refusing to let go even when the paramedics asked her to. Hours later, after surgery and countless prayers whispered under her breath, Kate sat by your hospital bed. You were stable, the doctors had said atleast. You were going to be okay. The relief was overwhelming, and for the first time in what felt like days, she allowed herself to breathe. As you stirred awake, your eyes slowly fluttering open, Kate leaned in, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Hey” you croaked, your voice weak but unmistakably you. Kate smiled through the tears that had started to form. “Hey yourself. You scared the hell out of me, you know that?”. You gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. I’m guessing the truck’s seen better days too?”. She chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “Yeah, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re okay”. There was a long pause, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the air between you. Finally, Kate took a deep breath, her hand still holding yours.

“I love you” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, the words escaping no longer being able to be trapped inside her. “I’ve never said it before, but I do. And I’m not going to waste another second pretending otherwise”. She rambled but you didn’t hear much after that as your eyes softened as you squeezed her hand. “I love you too, Kate. And I’m not going anywhere. Not without you”. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, careful of your bandages. “Good. Because I can’t lose you. Not now, not ever”.

As you drifted back to sleep, still weak but safe, Kate stayed by your side, holding your hand as the storm outside finally faded into nothing. And in the quiet aftermath, she knew that this was where she belonged, with you, in the calm after the storm.

Thank you for reading!

#blog #fanfiction #fandom #x reader #x you #x y/n #twisters x reader #twisters #kate carter #kate carter x reader #twisters fanfic #Kate carter x female reader #Kate carter fanfic

104 notes · View notes

idk-ask-me-yesterday · 23 days ago

Note

Can you write a Lockwood fanfic you two sneaking out so see each other?-🃏

Stolen kisses, pretty lies

Summary: You and your boyfriend want some alone time, but that's hard to get when hiding your relationship from your two roomates.

Puppets: Anthony Lockwood x gender neutral reader

Word count: 1,222

Warnings: none except some quick kisses.

Elle yaps: i got a bit carried away and went a little off the ask, sorry :/ tempted to make this a series tho... Lemme know what you think!

Slightly proofread. No use of Y/N

The kitchen of 35 Portland row was surprisingly quiet this morning.

The whole team sat at the table, quietly eating breakfast and doing their own thing. Lucy chatted with Skull, who was sat on the kitchen counter, while George fiddled with his latest trinket and Lockwood read the morning paper.

Your gaze lingered too long on your secret boyfriend across the table—his dark hair falling across his forehead as he studied the newspaper intently, completely oblivious to your attention. Though he remained unaware of your fond observation, his glasses-wearing best friend caught your lingering look with a knowing glance, causing you to quickly avert your eyes to your barely-touched breakfast.

Hiding your relationship wasn't the original plan, but something always seemed to derail your attempts to tell your friends. When George was stood up on a date, it didn't feel right to share the news. Then Lucy's ghost-touch incident took precedence. Now, after keeping it secret for so long, you worry that revealing the truth would cause drama when they realize how long you've been hiding it.

So you continue to steal secret glances and share hidden moments, like the brush of hands when passing the salt or lingering touches while washing dishes. Sometimes you catch yourself wondering if the others have noticed these small gestures, but they seem too caught up in their own routines to pay attention. Still, there's a part of you that wishes you could just get it over with and tell them.

"So, any plans for today?" Lockwood asks casually, carefully folding the newspaper and setting it down beside his half-empty teacup. "We're running low on supplies, and the pantry needs restocking. I noticed we're almost out of tea and those biscuits everyone likes. I could handle the shopping after we finish breakfast," he offers, absently straightening the paper's edges on the wooden table surface.

"I can go with you," you find yourself saying before you can stop yourself, heart fluttering at the possibility of a few precious moments alone together. Lucy glances up from her conversation with Skull, her expression curious. "We'll need quite a bit - might be good to have an extra pair of hands," you add quickly, trying to sound casual despite the knowing look George shoots your way.

"Well, that's settled then," Lockwood says with a bright smile, already standing and reaching for his coat. "We should head out soon before it gets too crowded at the shops." You try not to notice how George's smirk widens as you hurriedly finish your toast, preparing to leave.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

As you follow Lockwood out into the crisp morning air, you can't help but smile at the prospect of having him to yourself, even if only for a simple shopping trip. The familiar weight of your rapier at your hip reminds you that even mundane errands require precaution in this ghost-filled city. Still, you find yourself looking forward to these stolen moments together, where you can simply be yourselves without worrying about maintaining appearances.

It takes about five minutes of walking through the winding London streets before you notice the unfamiliar buildings and realize you're going in completely the wrong direction. The morning fog has started to lift, revealing shop signs and landmarks you don't recognize from your usual route to the market. "Uh, Anthony? The shops are the other way..." you say hesitantly, watching as he continues to stride purposefully down the cobblestone path.

He turns back to you with that familiar mischievous grin, the one that never fails to make your heart skip a beat. "I know a shortcut," he says, reaching for your hand when he's sure no one else is around. "Trust me?" The warmth of his fingers intertwining with yours makes you forget all about questioning his sense of direction.

You follow him down a narrow side street, the morning bustle of London fading behind you. The shortcut, as it turns out, leads to a secluded courtyard with an old stone fountain at its center. Here, hidden from prying eyes by weathered brick walls and climbing ivy, Lockwood pulls you close and steals a proper good morning kiss—the kind you've been wanting since breakfast.

The kiss lingers, sweet and unhurried, until distant footsteps echo off the cobblestones and remind you both of where you are. You reluctantly step apart, though your fingers remain intertwined. "We should probably actually get to the shops at some point," you murmur, unable to keep from smiling as Lockwood brushes a strand of hair from your face.

"I suppose we should," he agrees with a soft laugh, though he makes no immediate move to leave. "George will never let us hear the end of it if we come back without those biscuits he loves." The thought of your friend's relentless grudges spurs you both into motion, and you reluctantly release each other's hands as you step back onto the main street.

The morning air has grown warmer as you make your way to the shops, falling into an easy rhythm of casual conversation. You can't help but notice how naturally you and Lockwood move together through the streets, maintaining a respectable distance while sharing secret smiles. As you round the corner toward the market, the familiar bustle of morning shoppers comes into view, and you both seamlessly slip back into your professional demeanor.

The shop is already bustling with activity when you arrive, filled with the chatter of employees and customers alike. As you weave through the crowd with your shopping list in hand, you notice Lockwood's subtle protective stance whenever someone brushes too close. It would be endearing if you weren't trying so hard to maintain your professional facade in public.

You focus on the task at hand, methodically checking items off your list as you navigate from aisle to aisle. The morning crowd ebbs and flows around you, and you find yourself grateful for Lockwood's steady presence at your side. When your hands brush as you both reach for the same tin of tea, you share a quick glance that speaks volumes, though anyone watching would see nothing more than two colleagues shopping for supplies.

As you finish gathering the last few items, you notice Lockwood checking his watch with a slight frown. "We should probably head back soon," he murmurs, shifting the heavy shopping bags in his arms. The walk home feels shorter somehow, filled with comfortable silence and the occasional brush of shoulders as you navigate the morning crowds.

Just before reaching Portland Row, Lockwood pulls you into one last secluded spot for a quick kiss. "Thank you for coming with me," he whispers against your lips, making you shiver despite the warmth of the morning. You both take a moment to compose yourselves before rounding the final corner to face whatever knowing looks await at home.

Back inside the warmth of 35 Portland Row, you find George and Lucy exactly where you left them, though now they're engaged in what appears to be an intense debate with Skull about proper tea-steeping times. As you unpack the groceries, you catch George's subtle smirk and wonder, not for the first time, just how much he's figured out. The morning settles back into its familiar rhythm, but you can't help smiling to yourself as you remember the stolen moments in the hidden courtyard.

The warmth of contentment settles over you as you put away the last of the groceries, sneaking one more glance at Lockwood as he joins the debate about tea. These secret moments you share, though fleeting, make the challenge of hiding your relationship worth it—at least for now. Perhaps someday soon you'll find the right moment to tell them all, but for now, you're content with these stolen bits of happiness woven into your everyday routine.

#anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood #elle writes #anon ask #elle's very own 🃏#fluff #Puppet: Anthony Lockwood

66 notes · View notes

mysticsparklewings · 3 months ago

Text

Obscutober 2024 Prompt List(s)!

Anyone got room for yet another October Prompt List? 😉

I really wasn’t feeling the Official Inktober Prompt List this year & deeply miss the Obscutober lists nikolas_tower used to post over on Instagram, so I decided to break from tradition even more than I usually do & make my own! ✨

The main idea is each prompt is an Obscure Word, but I did get a little choosy & try to put a bit of my own spin on it!

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about the details + Definitions if you need them. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

----------

Before I get into my usual long-winded description, if you want to actually follow this prompt list—Or the Lite or Weekly version—here's what you need to know:

Here's the "Official" Definition list so you don't have to spend time looking up the words yourself if you don't want to...But also, if you do want to, feel free! The "official" definitions are intended as a time-saving guideline!

The list is open to all mediums! "Typical" visual art (Digital or Traditional), Literature, Sculpture, Crafts, Coloring Pages—whatever you want!

The word itself does not have to be directly included/related to what you make; You can just take inspiration from the way it sounds or looks, or something the sticks out to you in the definition, etc.

If a word or two doesn't work for you for various reasons, feel free to swap-in a different word—Either another "obscure" word of your choosing, or a word from another prompt list that you like better.

I've provided "Lite" and Weekly versions of the list in case the full 31 is too much, but you can pick-and-choose words from the full list however you'd like if you're not crazy about the words I picked for the shorter versions, or if you want to shorten the list in a different way.

Tagging me is appreciated, but not required!

Remember that my views on these Month-Long Daily Challenges is that it's about the challenge of completing a certain amount of creative pieces in the time given...And that's pretty much it, so as long as you're doing that and having fun, I'm really not bothered about how you choose to follow the list! My Inktober motto has always been "work smarter, not harder," and this is no different!

----------

Well, well, Sparklers—I assume this is quite the surprise coming from me. 🤭 Both because I've been awfully quiet over the past couple of months and this is what I come back with. [And for the record, I intend to explain more about where exactly I've been in a Museletter, but I wasn't able to get it typed up and ready-to-go today; Once I get it ready I'll add the link here.]

Not that me disappearing for a while and coming back with something not necessarily expected of me is all that abnormal, but rather if you've followed me for a while, you might remember I'm not normally super-keen on everyone and their uncle's mother's brother's sister making their own Prompt Lists.

So then, Mystic, what gives? Why make your own Prompt List now?

You can thank nikolas_tower on Instagram for that, actually. 😆 Some of you might also remember that I follow his Obscutober list in October 2021, and I've also swapped in an Obscutober word a couple of times when one of the "official" Inktober words didn't work for me.

I've explained before how much I love the Obscutober concept to its core, so I won't re-hash all of that here. The important part is that I do love it, but to my great sadness, 2022 only got an abbreviated Obscutober list (2 words per week), 2023 didn't get an Obscutober list at all (though I didn't really need one for 2023 because I was busy enough as it was following two other prompt lists at once) and considering just how close we're getting now, I really sincerely doubt Nikolas has/had plans for a 2024 one. Add to that: I was not super jazzed about the official Inktober prompt list for this year. Now, don't get me wrong—I'm normally not thrilled with every single word on the list (and if you've followed my Inktobers' past, you know I say as much during the month!), but I'm not sure I've ever felt quite so unenthusiastic about the whole list before.

Additionally still, some of you might remember I did talk a little bit last year about some...struggles I supposed is the closest word, that I've had with the past couple of Inktobers I've done. And generally, I've had some ideas for really shaking up the way I handle October for the past couple of years.

While, granted, my main "shake-up" idea is totally unrelated even to this list and I never seem to be able to get the necessary prep work it would require done in time, I think the main takeaway is a I've had a low-grade yearning to do something different...but I do still want to stick to my "tradition" of handling Inktober unconventionally.

So in the end, it kinda just made sense to at least try making my own Obscutober-style list this year. It's something different and I've missed the Obscutober lists, so why not?

Worth noting that I did try to put just a little of my own spin on it in my choice of words. While already I did try to stay away from words Nikolas already used for all 4 of his Obscutobers, I also had a couple of "rules" with the words I picked:

No words that are "Obscure" purely because they're not English/aren't found in English dictionaries. For example, "Lunette" is a French word, but it appears in English dictionaries with a definition that's more than just "the French word for..."

The word must have a definition that's relatively easy to find and/or appears in well-established English Dictionaries like Dictionary.com or Merriam-Webster. This rule exists because I noticed pretty quickly a lot of "aesthetic" definition images on Pinterest either don't turn up any other reliable results that a word even exists, or the word may exist but the Pinterest definition is straight-up wrong.

No overly gross/medical/NSFW words. (This wasn't a problem with any of Nikolas' Obscutober picks, this is just a personal preference that did shape my research a bit.)

One of my problems with the Inktober list for this year is too many words feel like synonyms/too closely related, so I wanted to avoid that. A couple of words are still kind of close in the end, like "Vitrine" and "Hyaline" or "Escutcheon" and "Orphrey, but they're still more different from each other than some words that I considered and ultimately turned down. [For example, I considered "Lambent" and "Clinquant" but decided they were too close in meaning to "Scintillate."]

Likewise, aside from the theme of being Obscure, I tried not to lean to heavily on words that fit a particular theme or idea

I tried not to pick "obscure" words that have become decently well-known or popular because they're obscure. The best example is "Aglet" wasn't even considered because it's been mentioned in multiple TV shows that I know of. "Scintillate" might push that boundary a little, but it is one of my personal favorites.

I also tried to pick words that had a little variety in definition length and not pick too many that had really short definitions, which ties into my next point...

More abstractly, I tried to pick words that feel like they both lend themselves to a really solid image but also leave room for interpretation of that image. Historically I've had problems with Inktober words feeling too much like they really only fit one specific interpretation of the word or they only have so many ways to represent the idea. And on the flip side, some of Nikolas' Obscutober picks (at least when I participated in 2021) felt a little too abstract at times. Ultimately, this feeling is probably highly subjective, but I tried my best to find the right balance anyway.

While not perfectly balanced, I did try not to lean too heavily on one type of word, as in Adjectives/Nouns/Verbs. There are still less verbs overall because it was just harder to find verbs that fit what I wanted, but if I hadn't consciously paid attention there probably would've only been 1-2 verbs and like 20 adjectives.

Not really related to adding "my own spin," but also worth noting that it was also important to me to provide "Lite" and Weekly versions of the list the way that Nikolas did for Obscutober II to make it easier for people that just don't have one-thing-every-single-day kind of time to feel welcome to still participate in some way. As stated in the description for those, you can just jump around the list however you like, but I know sometimes it's just easier if someone already lays things out that way for you instead of having to remember to leave things out and such.

And then for the visual list design, I did a mixture of Nikolas' Obscutober list style and my own more typical branding elements, which ended up working out much better than I expected; I wanted the "spirit" of the list to be recognizable to fans of Nikolas' lists without being an exact copy/looking too much like I was trying to "pretend" to be him or something, and I think I landed in a pretty good place. [And in case anyone is wondering, yes I did use my own template to make the list!]

I do have to admit to you Sparklers though that despite going through all that trouble, I'm actually still not 100% sure I'll be following the list myself. 😅 I've gone back and forth over how exactly I want to handle October at all this year so much...I definitely want to (and intend to!) do a Daily Challenge, especially given how spotty my uploads have been over the last year, but I just can't seem to settle on one full-fledged plan that I'm completely satisfied with.

I do have one potential idea I'm considering that already has a very specific alternate list, but pretty much all of my other ideas would normally use the official Inktober list, and so since that list isn't on the table for me this year, and it's really looking like DeviantArt isn't doing Drawtober again this year—Which I find incredibly sad, by the way!—I need another list on-hand that I know I can use and be reasonably happy with.

And for the record, I'm being intentionally coy about that one specific idea and not sharing that list because it's highly specific and if I do decide to go that route in some way, I'd like the main idea to be a least a little bit of a surprise.

But even if I don't use this list myself, I thought at least a few other people might enjoy giving it a try. After all, I wasn't the only one that enjoyed Nikolas' Obscutobers—I originally found out about them through another person entirely. So maybe a few other people are feeling that Obscutober void, or maybe you're just a big Word Nerd™ like me, or maybe you just want something that's a little different still from a lot of the more typical alternative prompt lists that have been floating around.

So, whatever the case, here the list is (and the Lite and Weekly versions, too); Let us all do with them what we will! 😉

Before I go, I will offer an apology to anyone who's disappointed or frustrated that I'm posting the list so close to time to use it—Believe me, if I'd been 100% sure I wanted to make it in the first place sooner, I would have gotten it out much sooner, too! But I'm doing the best I still can by getting out with this very tiny 2-day cushion instead of just dropping it right on the 1st. If the list turns out to be something you Sparklers want to see again next year, I promise I'll do my best to get it out with a lot more advance notice next time!

With that, there are still two days left in September and as semi-implied already, I still have a ton to do to be anything close to ready for October, so I'll leave you Sparklers to the list and your own October plans, whatever they may be; Hope to see you all again hopefully very, very soon...! 🤗

----------

List Design © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

----------

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

#xxmysticwingsxx #mysticsparklewings #obscutober #mysticsobscutober #inktober #inktober2024 #drawtober #dralloween #art challenge #october #prompt list #resources #art resources #obscure words #rare words #obscutober2024 #art prompts #prompts #october challenge

99 notes · View notes

archangeldyke-all · 9 months ago

Note

I just saw this art and had some CEO Sevika Thoughts 😵‍💫😵‍💫

https://twitter.com/2400db/status/1777950953817207073

O. M. G. i'm combining this with another ask i got because these two reqs go together like peanutbutter and jelly. EEEK! (also, the link doesnt seem to work now, but it was art of two characters-- i'm not sure who-- where one was sitting in a spinny wheel office chair, back to her computer set up, and the other was straddling her, trying to talk on the phone while the first girl is feeling her up)

the last tidbit in your vacay sex w ceo sev hcs inspired me. could we please get something soft with high!sev after both her and r have smoked?

i like to imagine her hair in a bun with a hoodie and sweatpants on. just looking so pretty and soft and staring at reader like :]

i also like to think she likes skin to skin. :3

🌕

men and minors dni

from time to time, you and sevika work from home.

her penthouse has three bedrooms. one for the two of you, one for guests, and one you've turned into a little study for the both of you for times like this.

two desks on opposite walls, a few bookshelves, a couch, it's a good space. it's helped a lot over the years. when sevika's sick, you manage to convince her to just spend the day in her study instead of torturing herself by dragging herself to work. when the two of you are feeling burnt out, a day taking calls and video meetings at home always help.

and today, you're using it for the best reason of all. it's a snow day.

the city below sevika's windows is covered in a blanket of snow. you've been watching the white powder fall all day. sometimes the blizzard rages so hard, that all the windows in sevika's high rise are greyed-out, and it's like you guys are living inside of a cloud.

sevika has no meetings today. you don't either. so, in an effort to stay cozy, you both decided to stay in your pajamas. sevika looks so snugly in her big sweatshirt and plaid pajama pants. her feet are socked in mis-matched animal print socks, one cats, one ducks. her hair's in a messy bun, and she's still got a bit of sand in her eye even though it's almost lunch. you love her like this.

it's been a slow day. with the whole city trapped inside, the usual twenty calls an hour you're used to answering has dwindled down to two.

at lunch, sevika manages to convince you to smoke a joint with her.

"c'mon babe." she whines, kissing up your neck as you stir the tomato soup heating up on the stove. "no one's gonna need us today. and we're already so cozy, 'n we got nowhere to go..." she wiggles the fat joint she'd rolled in your face. you huff and roll your eyes.

"i need to talk to HR." you grunt, snatching the joint out of her hand and shoving the bubbling pot of soup to the side. "my boss is peer pressuring me to do drugs with her." you tease, quickly lighting the tip of the joint against the burner before putting the soup back. sevika snatches it from you before you can take a puff, running out to the balcony. "sevika!" you squeal as she throws sliding door open. "you're gonna freeze your ass off!" you laugh.

"come here!" she demands, waving you over. you giggle, turning the burner off and running after your wife, grabbing two blankets off the couch as you go.

the balcony is spacious and covered, but with the wind this high up, there's only four inches of space that hasn't been covered in snow. you and sevika squeeze together in the shelter, shivering and huddling under the blankets as the blizzard rages around you.

"you're insane!" you laugh, sevika pulls you closer to her chest, puts the joint, somehow still alight, between your lips.

"puff." she says. you forget the cold for a moment-- the demand sending a shock of arousal down your spine. you take a hit, keeping eye contact with her, and she grins, before pulling the joint away and pressing her mouth against yours.

you exhale, and sevika inhales the smoke from your lungs before she shoves her tongue down your throat.

she pulls away with a smirk. you gulp. "there. warmer?" she asks, putting the joint to her lips as she smirks down at you. you huff, then stick one of your freezing cold hands under her sweater, pawing at her nipple. she squeaks, you giggle at how quickly her nipple gets hard in your fingers.

you guys smoke the joint fast, after that, faster than you probably should've smoked a joint that big. but it was so cold, and the only relief was the warmth from the joint, and you couldn't really feel the high out in the cold...

which means that once you guys get inside, giggling and shaking the snow off your blankets and out of your hair as you quickly warm up, you're both hit with a very sudden, very intense high.

you know you're fucked when it starts to feel like you're underwater. you know sevika's fucked when you look up from your feet where you're struggling to get out of your slippers, and find her giggling at a dick she'd drawn in the frost on the glass wall of the living room.

"sev." you whisper, grinning. she looks over at you, her smile growing impossibly wider when she sees you. you can practically see hearts in her eyes, and you snort. "oh shit." you laugh.

"we still got work." she giggles. you bite your lip.

"fuck." you chuckle.

"ooooh babe! food!" she says suddenly, grabbing your hand and dragging you to the kitchen.

logically, you know that it only takes about ten minutes to make two grilled cheeses and heat up some soup. but it feels like it takes a year.

you keep turning the burners off by instinct-- and sevika has to laugh and turn them back on, reminding you that you're cooking lunch.

she keeps trying to 'season' the food-- which is concerning for a number of reasons. one being that sevika's a horrible cook, who doesn't know the difference between a teaspoon and tablespoon; two, being that she's holding the cinnamon sugar while she says it. the third, most concerning thing is that you're tempted to let her. cinnamon grilled cheese? your high, munchie focused mind thinks, that could work...

eventually, the food is finished, without modification. sevika has to smack your hands twice to remind you to wait for it to cool off. you have to smack hers once.

you guys eat, curled up together on the couch in your study. it could be the weed, but you think it may genuinely be the best grilled cheese of your life.

sevika seems to agree. she keeps moaning and grunting as she chews and slurps her soup.

it should gross you out. she's too high to mind her manners and chew with her mouth closed. really though, it's just turning you on.

she looks up at you, her cheeks stuffed with grilled cheeses, tomato soup dripping down her chin onto her lap, and you bite your lip. she chews, swallows, then speaks. "you wan' som'a mine?" she offers.

your heart leaps in your chest and you surge forward, pressing your mouth against sevika's. she groans, her hands flailing, and she clumsily puts her dishes on the little coffee table. the second she's free, you straddle her lap, clawing at her shoulders, pinning her to the couch. she pulls you down to grind against her, sinking her nails into your hips. you shudder.

you aren't wearing anything under your pajama pants, and you know sevika isn't either. it's just two thin pieces of flannel separating you. for a moment, the dry fabric adds a delicious friction to your movements--but you soak through your and sevika's pants in less than a minute.

and, fuck, you feel like you're in heaven. you feel like you're melting into sevika, it feels like her fingers are made of magic, the sweet grunts and whimpers she's letting out sound like music.

she's like putty in your hands too, chasing you when you pull back, whining when you pull away to breathe. you giggle, smiling down at her and tucking her flyaways behind her ears, she sighs, nuzzling against your palm, and you lean down to kiss her forehead.

"love you." you whisper. she smiles.

"i love you too." she says. you watch in fascination as she licks her lips slowly, looking you up and down. "so... y' gonna ride me now or what?" she asks, grinning and waggling her eyebrows at you.

you burst into a fit of giggles, and sevika grins, nuzzling against your neck and sucking hickeys into your throat. "mmm... okay." you agree. you can feel her lips curl into a smile against your neck, her fingers tugging the drawstring on your pajamas undone.

suddenly, your work-phone starts ringing on your desk. you and sevika both turn around to glare at the sound, and you groan when you realize what it is. sevika makes a choked sound. "n-no--" she manages to whine before you pull yourself off her lap and start walking over to your desk.

sevika squawks, and then in a flash, she sprints over and squeezes between you and your desk chair, flopping into it and tripping you on the way. you squeak, but sevika catches you around your waist, pulling you onto the chair, and her lap, in a straddle. you huff, glaring down at her, and she grins.

"answer the phone." she demands, just like earlier on the balcony. you shiver, and she grins, tugging your pants down over your ass as you bend over her and grab the phone off your desk, pressing it to your ear

"hello?" you choke out. sevika chokes on a laugh, smacks your ass, and you flail, squeaking and smacking her shoulder as you do.

the voice on the other line-- somewhat familiar, a recent client's assistant or something-- asks to speak to sevika. sevika, the exact moment the voice says her name, sinks her teeth into your neck while her fingers start to circle your clit.

"ah-huh-wh-sheeee's, uh, she's not available right now." you say, cringing. sevika's free hand tugs your sweater up, and you smack her forehead-- already knowing what she's planning.

the voice on the phone babbles on and on-- you're not sure about what, you're distracted by the cocky smile she shoots you before ducking in and taking your breast into her mouth. you moan, a horrible, very audible "aaah!" right into your phone.

sevika grins like the devil.

"sorry, s-sorry--there's a bug!" you choke out before the person on the phone can ask you any questions.

oh that's okay. the voice says. i'm the same way, especially about roaches. ew. anyways, as i was saying...

sevika shoves three fingers past your lips and down your throat, you gasp, sputter, and choke, and sevika pulls her fingers free just in time for you to mutter a "sorry, continue," down the line, before shoving her fingers back in your mouth.

it's possibly the hottest thing that's ever happened to you. she keeps thrusting her fingers in and out of your mouth, tiny clicking wet noises escaping with every thrust of her fingers as drool starts to drip down her wrist and your chin.

you try to keep your moans to a minimum. you don't succeed very well.

"you like this?" she whispers. you nod, your eyes closed, tears soaking your cheeks as she continues to fuck your throat with her fingers.

she giggles, then pulls her hand away.

you gasp, your eyes flying open for you to glare at your wife. she just darts forward and gives you a quick kiss, and then she sinks one of her drool-covered fingers inside of you.

you bite your tongue to keep from whining. she kisses a path to your tit, gives it a few nips, then bites your unkissed nipple as she sinks a second finger in your cunt.

"uhhhn, fu--she actually just walked in--here she is--" you spit out before pulling the phone away from your mouth, letting out a long whine, and pushing the phone into sevika's ear. she glares at you, pulling her mouth away from your tits with a pop that you're certain whoever's calling can hear.

"hullo?" she grunts, pressing the phone between her shoulder and ear, freeing her hand to fondle pull her pants down as she sinks her third finger inside of you. your thighs quake, her cock springs free, and you moan.

"fuck, sev, please."

she grins, gives your cunt a few more good thrusts with her fingers, before pulling them out and spitting in the palm of her hand, giving her cock a few quick pumps, and then lining it up to your cunt.

it's your turn to get your revenge. sevika always needs a second to adjust before she can sink all the way inside you-- overwhelmed by the squeeze and warmth-- but today you don't allow it.

you sink down on her in one swift movement, grinning at the pathetic, "hhhhaa--" it draws out of her. you're so fucking lucky whoever's on the phone is a chatterbox.

you start bouncing on her cock, your ass smacking her thighs with each go, and sevika's got the most pained, pathetic look on her face as she bites her lip to keep her moans in.

you chuckle. "you're lucky you're cute." you whisper, before pulling your shirt off and shifting so sevika can muffle her moans in your tits, one of your hands tangled in her bun, at the base of her neck.

you tug the phone out of her hand, taking a deep breath and collecting yourself in a true show of your strength and professionalism-- and steadily, (not at all breathy, no matter no much sevika will pretend otherwise) say: "i'm so sorry to have to cut our conversation short, but it seems the blizzard's just knocked the power at our facilities out, and we have to go handle that before our heat goes next. we'll be sure to call you back as soon as possible."

oh, well i'm so sorry to hear that! i hope all your employees are safe! i must say, i thought people were being dramatic about the snow, but it must be awful bad where you are if-- you hang up.

"fuck!" you shout, throwing the phone back down on your desk. sevika growls against your tits, and it a second, shes standing, keeping you on her cock with a solid grip on your ass.

she drops you on the couch, not losing her rhythm for a moment as she balances on top of you. eventually, she has to breathe, and she pulls away from your tits with a gasp. "i fucking love you." she whimpers. you giggle.

"i love y-you too, sev." you whisper.

"louder, baby, nobody's listenin' anymore." she demands. you whimper, clenching around her cock, and she chuckles, one of her hands darting down to rub at your clit.

"s-sevika! baby, i love you, i love you!" you gasp. she grins.

"there you go."

"i love you, please, i'm so close you're gonna-- i'm gonna-- sev, i just-- you--"

"whaddya need baby? anything, anything."

"kiss?" you whimper.

sevika cums at the word, her eyes rolling back in her skull and her arms shaking as she tries to keep her pace. it's so hot, and you're so close, and she keeps fucking you even as her cum starts to leak out of you--

and then she tears her eyes open, gasps, and smashes her mouth against yours.

you fall apart, cumming and clencing sevika's sensitive cock hard. so hard, in fact, "oh, b-baby, i!" sevika collapses against you, her cock pulsing inside of you a few more times, and you gasp.

the moment you catch your breath, you burst into giggles.

"did you just cum again?" you ask. "twice in one minute, sev?!"

"fffuck offff." she mumbles against your tits.

"that.. was so hot." you say. she giggles now too.

"g'night."

"sevika." you tug her bun. "it's the middle of the day."

"i'm done. g'night."

"c'mon." you pout, gently tapping her cheek, trying to get her to open her eyes. "we'll have a warm shower and i'll make hot chocolate? with whiskey? we'll turn the phones off, okay? cuddle in bed a bit?" you bribe. she peeks one eye open.

"can i eat you out in bed?" she asks. you snort.

"i was thinking bed would be more like a nap, babe."

"mmm. can i eat you out in the shower?"

"you can eat me out after our nap."

"can i wake you up with it?" she asks, a sparkle in her eye. you roll your eyes.

"only if you actually let me sleep. and you try to sleep too, okay?" you ask. she nods. "one hour, at least." you demand. she pouts, but nods again, and you burst into laughter. "kiss." you voice your final demand. sevika grins, and leans in happily.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika smut #soft sevika

160 notes · View notes

hugmekenobi · 8 months ago

Text

S3: The Bad Batch (1)

Chapter One: Confined

Gif by @ventresses

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Rating: 18+

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Imprisoned on Tantiss, Omega finds herself needing to adjust to life there whilst the rest of you decide on your next mission to give you intel you desperately need.

Masterlist for S1 and S2

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Very mild canon-typical violence, one use of y/n, Hemlock, brief wound description, nightmares with emotional hurt/comfort, my interpretation of various people's headspaces, slight angst, me going off script/episode plot in the last part, and remember, italics represent silent Jedi communications

Word Count: 5K

Author's notes: And we're off! Happy Star Wars Day!! We are pretty much just following the plot of this episode, save for a bit at the end so it might feel like a bit of a slow start, but bear with me! Technically, this will also wind up being a 'fix-it' fic so just stick with me on that process too! Hope you enjoy! And I have already started working on the next chapter! Also, I am just going off my past taglist so anyone who wants added/removed, please let me know!

21 days since Eriadu

Water dripped from the faulty tap in the small cell as light crept through the bars on the window.

Omega stared out into the open space with a forlorn sigh as she envied the birds that sounded their freedom as they chirped their usual song. She stepped down from her bed and started pacing anxiously as she waited for Emerie to make her scheduled appearance.

Sure enough, a couple seconds later, the door opened, and Emerie stepped inside.

“Good morning, Omega. How are you feeling today?” Emerie asked.

“Like a prisoner.” Omega replied curtly. “I want to leave.”

“Prisoner?” Emerie repeated, surprised. “Omega, you are no such thing. It will take time to adjust, but you will acclimate. It is far safer in here than out there. Come. We have much to do.” With that Emerie turned to leave.

Omega reached under her bed and brought out her box before she followed Emerie out into the corridor. The grey colouring of her new clothes matched the other scientists and the non-descript design of the inside of the base.

They turned a corner to pass a squad of clone prisoners being escorted past and Omega let out a gasp as she recognised the figure at the front of the line but despite her effort to look at him, he only stared at the floor.

Omega entered the lab and watched in quiet upset as the clone was subjected to a blood sample being taken from the back of his hand. They all had similar expressions of pain and defeat written across their faces and she wished she knew how to stop it.

Emerie placed the test tube into one of the free slots in the tray that Omega was holding before she took the datapad out and created a record for Omega. “And now I need to take a blood sample from you.”

“From me?” Omega repeated. “Why?”

“The samples are used for various research projects. All of us serve a purpose here.” Emerie explained. “It won’t hurt.” She added as a means of reassurance before she readied the equipment to take the sample.

Omega sat up on the bench. “Can you at least tell me where my brothers are? Or my friend, (Y/N)?”

“I do not know.” Emerie replied simply.

Omega held her hand out and braced against the sting of the needle as her blood was drawn. “If you’re a clone like me, how come I never saw you on Kamino?”

“Because I was sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing. He saw potential in me, like Nala Se sees in you.”

“I never knew that I had a sister. It’s nice not being alone.” She offered Emerie a small smile, but it wasn’t quite returned.

“Head to the lab.” Emerie ordered as she took the device away and placed Omega’s sample in with the others. “Nala Se is expecting these.”

As the security scan was completed, Omega entered the lab and walked over to Nala Se who was busy placing more blood vials into a centrifuge.

“Thank you, Omega.” Nala Se said as she took the tray from her and started processing the data from the samples and it was through that that she saw the concerning sight that Omega was now a part of the system. “Omega, your sample was taken?”

“Mn-hmm. Emerie said it was routine.”

Nala Se deleted the record from the system before she destroyed the physical sample.

Omega watched this with curiosity. “Why are you discarding it?”

“Tell no one.” Nala Se replied before she took the other samples to the centrifuge. “It is safer this way.”

Omega knew the Kaminoian well enough to pick up on the worry in her voice. “This research, it’s not like what we did on Kamino, is it?”

“No, it is not.”

“I don’t understand. Why did they bring me here?” Omeag asked, hoping that if Emerie couldn’t give her the answers that she sought then Nala Se would have some idea.

“To ensure that I co-operate. The Empire seeks the reproduction of a genetic M-count, but the experiments on the specimens have yet to yield the desired result.”

The M-count was something she was aware of but nothing else Nala Se was saying made much sense to her. “What specimens? You mean the clones?”

“No. Not the clones.”

Any further elaboration was cut off as the lab doors opened and Omega turned to see who it was.

“How nice to see you reunited with your trusted assistant.” Hemlock commented to Nala Se. He massaged the palm of his gloved hand. “I’m sure Omega’s presence here will only strengthen your efforts. Shall we head to the vault?” He waved a hand in front of him towards the doors.

Omega went to leave but Nala Se’s hand on her shoulder stopped her from advancing.

“See to your remaining tasks.” Nala Se instructed before they left the lab.

Omega watched them from the window and wondered what was so special about this vault Hemlock had mentioned but she didn’t have the means to find that out yet. For now, she had little choice but to head to her next chore of the day.

She glared at the droid as he shocked one of the Lurca hounds and she irritably scooped some food up before sending it through the hatch into the bowl of the hound she was currently tending to. As the droid’s attention was focused on something else, she took the opportunity to gather more loose straw from the ground and hid it in the bottom compartment of her box.

She carried on to the last cage to see her favourite of the hounds. “Hi Batcher.” She whispered to the hound curled up at the far end of the cage but her only reply was a low growl. It was then she noticed the bowl was overflowing with uneaten food. “Hmm. Still won’t eat the food, huh? I don’t blame you.” She stole a quick glance back to the droid to see he was still paying her no attention and she took the chance to fish out her lunch from earlier. “Here, I saved you some of mine.”

Batcher got to her feet but snarled and pressed herself aggressively against the bars of the enclosure.

In the shock, Omega had dropped the nuggets inside the cage, but she watched as Batcher ate them and swiftly retreated to the back of the space. “Better? I’ll bring you more tomorrow.” She stood up and left to do what she had been wanting to do the entire day.

As she slowly walked down the corridor, she glanced between each of the cells, the sounds of teeth chattering and coughing made her concern grow as she saw the effects this place was having on all of the clones here.

She made her way to the cell she’d been searching for. “Crosshair.” She called quietly. “I tried to come earlier, but there were too many guards watching me.”

Crosshair sighed. “You shouldn’t be down here at all.”

“Well, how else are we gonna plan an escape?”

“There is no ‘we.’ And there is no escape.” Crosshair sat up. “I’ve already tried.”

“Every stronghold has a weak point.” Omega said. “Maybe I can convince Emerie to help. She’s one of us.”

She sounded just like them and that was the last thing he needed. “Not every clone is your ally. You trust too easily.”

“Maybe you don’t trust enough.” Omega countered but as she said that she noticed a tremor in his right hand which he tried to conceal with by holding it with his left. “Crosshair?”

“Just…” He sighed again. He didn’t need her pity or her concern. “Go, before you make things worse for both of us.”

Omega went to leave but she stopped herself. “There has to be a way out of here. I’ll find it.” She didn’t expect a reply, so she didn’t wait for one, instead she left now.

Crosshair watched her go. Even from that small interaction, he’d already seen so much of them in her and that would either make her or break her in this place and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be around to watch.

Darkness had fallen and it was that time again where she scratched the next tally into the wall. She brought the Lula hay doll out and held it close to her chest- it wasn’t much but it was the reminder of home she needed. If you truly weren’t here, then Omega knew you all would be looking for her, but she was going to do whatever it took to make that easier.

5 months later

The dripping water, the sunlight creeping in, the birds chirping, the concealing of her doll at the bottom of her box… the routine was all so familiar now. She was already standing at the ready for when Emerie opened the door and, like clockwork, it whirred open to reveal the older clone who had the same opening remark she always did.

“Good morning, Omega.”

“Good morning.”

“Let’s begin.” Emerie led the way out.

Yet again, they walked the same route to the testing centre and yet again she passed Crosshair in the corridor, but she had long since learned that trying for any sort of recognition from him in this environment was pointless, so she kept her gaze down too.

She let her blood be drawn, her hand was now numb to the sensation, and she took all the samples to the lab where Nala Se once again destroyed all traces of her sample. She hadn’t been able to learn anything more about the vault or the specimens but what she had gathered was that you, Hunter, and Wrecker definitely were not here and that made the thought of escape feel far more feasible and appealing.

The lurca hounds were the same as they always were but as she made her way to Batcher’s spot, she saw the hound tending to a nasty cut on her front right leg. “Batcher? K-9X1! Hurry!” She yelled to the droid.

“What is the issue?” The droid asked as he approached the girl.

“Batcher’s hurt.” Omega informed him.

“LH-201 sustained injures during the nightly patrol. If her wounds do not heal, the subject will be terminated.”

“Then do something to help her!” Omega demanded.

“I am not a medical droid. It is not part of my programming.”

Omega could only watch as the droid merely walked away, and she turned to the sound of Batcher’s whimpers of pain. She wouldn’t accept termination as Batcher’s fate, if the droid wouldn’t help Batcher, then she would.

She ran over to the medical kit on the wall and took the bacta out but when she reached into the kennel to try and tend to the wound, Batcher snapped at her. “Now look. I need to clean your wound for it to get better. It’ll only hurt for a second, so put those teeth away and behave.” She said sternly but it seemed to do the trick as Batcher let her do it. “See? That’s not so bad.”

Omega worked in silence for a few seconds before she spoke to the hound again, “You know, I have a friend that would’ve been able to help us get along a lot faster.” She said warmly as she continued to apply the bacta to the wound. “But I think we’re getting there now.” She smiled as Batcher gave her hand a tentative lick once she finished with the bacta.

“I dressed Batcher’s wounds as best as I could. At least she didn’t bite me. That’s progress, right?” she looked at Crosshair, but he gave her nothing, so she continued talking. “If she doesn’t get better soon…” She sighed. “Maybe I can steal a med kit from the lab and see if there’s anything I can use-”

“Stop.” Crosshair interrupted her with a frustrated sigh. Clearly the others hadn’t done a very good job of making her stay on course and now he needed to be the one to remind her. “What is your primary objective?”

“Escape.” Omega answered.

“Then stop wasting time on lost causes. Forget the hound, forget me, and complete the mission.”

“Not without you.”

“If I get the chance to escape, I wouldn’t think twice about leaving you behind.”

“You’re lying! You wouldn’t do that. You’re my brother.”

She had been insisting on that for months now, no matter how many times he tried to push her away and he didn’t know how much more of that he could tolerate hearing. “I’m not them.” Crosshair snapped.

Omega couldn’t accept that. “I’m not giving up, Crosshair. I won’t let you either.” She got up to leave.

Crosshair stood up with a heavy breath and called out to her retreating figure. “Omega.”

Omega stopped and turned back to face him.

“Don’t risk anything for me. I belong in here.” He said, meaning every word.

“None of us belong in here.” She replied before walking away.

Her door whirred open before the usual time, and she woke up with a gasp as two troopers entered her room. She got to her feet and concealed her doll behind her. “What’s going on?” She asked Emerie.

“Surprise inspection. Standard procedure.” Emerie informed her.

“Clear.” One of the commandos said.

However, the other noticed the doll hidden behind her back and he tore it from her grip and handed it to Emerie.

“We’ve been over this before, Omega. Personal items are forbidden.” Emerie chastised her. “I’ll dispose of it.”

“Don’t!” Omega protested. “Please, Emerie.”

“It is for your own good. Come, we have work to do.”

It was a welcome sight to see Batcher so happy to greet her this time around. “Hey, Batcher.” Omega said fondly and she saw the wound had nearly scarred over. “Look at you. You’re almost at a hundred percent.” She gave her a soft scratch on the jaw.

“Did you not read the standing order for the day?” The droid yanked her to her feet. “LH-201 has been slated for termination.”

“What? Why? She’s healed.” Omega argued.

“The creature’s recent domesticated disposition has been deemed a liability.”

“But that’s my fault, not hers.” Omega tried to resist being pulled away, with Batcher also barking in protest, but the droid’s grip was strong.

The droid groaned. “It is protocol.”

Omega finally managed to weasel her way out of his grasp and steal his datapad but the droid reacted swiftly and started to pull it away from her. She allowed herself to be tugged airborne and she braced her feet against the droid’s torso and leaned back, the momentum giving her the victory. She got away from the droid with the datapad in her hands and she quickly activated one of the large crates on the ceiling above and it fell on top of K-9X1. She grabbed his electro-staff and shocked him with it but not before he had the chance to call security so now, she had to act swiftly.

Omega used the datapad to open the exit hatch in Batcher’s kennel and deactivated her collar. “Batcher, come!” She ran over to the bars and reached in to take the collar off the hound. “Now you need to run away and not come back, okay?” It pained her to let her one close companion go but it needed to happen. She patted her snout. “And try not to bite anyone.”

Batcher hesitated and whined at her.

“I can’t go with you yet.” Omega explained. “I have to get Crosshair first. Batcher, go!” Omega watched her run down the tunnel with both relief and sadness, but she’d get out soon too, she knew she would.

“Breaking the rules, I see.”

Omega jumped and turned around to see Hemlock standing before her and Emerie standing behind him.

“And releasing a weak lurca hound into the wild? I didn’t know you were so cruel, Omega.”

“Me? You were gonna terminate her.” Omega said angrily.

“And you believe your actions changed that outcome?” When Omega faltered in her reply, he kept speaking, “Now some rotations ago, one of our shuttles crashed just beyond this mountain. But that is not what killed them. No, it was the creatures that roam the jungle. Even our strongest lurca hounds struggle against what’s beyond these walls. And your domestication of LH-201 only made her vulnerable.”

“You don’t know she won’t survive.” Omega disputed. “She deserves a chance.”

“Oh, the flawed logic of an idealistic child.” Hemlock’s tone fuelled with quiet mockery. “Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.”

She wasn’t afraid of his threats anymore. “Or what?”

Seeing the way he turned to look at Omega again, Emerie hastily intervened. “Doctor, perhaps I should return Omega to her room.”

Hemlock held a hand up to stop her from going any further and kept his gaze on Omega. “You have more to say?”

“I know you brought me here to make Nala Se cooperate. You need her. She won’t work for you if you hurt me.” Omega said confidently.

Hemlock only laughed. “Of course I’m not gonna hurt you, Omega.” He inhaled deeply. “Your friend in the detention block, however, may not be as fortunate.”

“Don’t hurt Crosshair! He didn’t do anything.”

“I did have plans for CT-9904, despite his resistance to re-education, but I am willing to make a few sacrifices if your misbehaviour continues.” He bent from the waist and leaned down towards her. “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.”

Now that threat was one that she knew he would follow through on and she didn’t want to be responsible for Crosshair suffering even more than he was already.

“Take her back to her room and restrict her access.” Hemlock ordered Emerie as he exited.

Omega left with her a few seconds later.

Night had fallen and Omega sat huddled on the edge of her bed, but she heard the door open. “Go away.” She said with a sigh, not even bothering to look at Emerie this time.

“Omega…”

“Please… just go.” She requested, hoping the misery in her voice would be enough to convince Emerie to leave and she was grateful to hear her footsteps retreat and she angled herself towards the door to see that her hay Lula had been returned to her. She picked it up, but the sound of a lurca howling brought her back to the window.

She attempted in vain to peer through to bars to the outside for any sign of Batcher, but she couldn’t see anything. She then looked at the growing collection of tallies that represented the months that she’d been here. It may take more time, but now more than ever she knew she needed to get out and she needed to take Crosshair with her.

Hunter’s eyes snapped open, and his heart was pounding in his chest, but his surroundings told him it had been another dream. The ship was still steadily travelling through hyperspace towards Oba Diah, and the three of you had been using the long journey to catch up on some much-needed rest before the mission would begin.

Reaching out to Roland Durand of all people had felt like a long shot but when he said he could help if you only found the Pyke that had disgraced him and the Durand name, it had been an easy decision to accept but it had done nothing to quell the worry and fear that coursed through his veins. He sat up and began the usual routine of deep breathing.

Ever since you’d fully opened yourself up to him and the Force again, he didn’t need to wake you anymore when this happened, you would feel everything he felt and wake up a couple seconds after he did, and this time was no different. “Which one this time?” You whispered; your tone filled with tender understanding.

“I’m sorry.” Hunter rasped as he steadied his breathing. He hated that this was having a knock-on effect on you two, especially since your own sleep had only now started to get better. You were another person he was still finding a way to let down.

You shushed him softly as you sat up next to him. You have nothing to be sorry for. “Which one?” You prompted again. You knew his sleep had been haunted by more than just the reminders of what had happened in the recent months, it was these new nightmares that were plaguing him more and more.

Hunter released a heavy breath. “Same one as the nights before. I can see her, she’s right in front of me but no matter what I do, I can’t reach her and- and then she’s taken away.”

You pressed your lips to his shoulder, and you rubbed soothing circles on his back. “This mission for Durand is another step in the right direction. You’re doing all you can. We will find her, Hunter.”

Hunter shook his head and swung his legs out to the side of the bunk. “We took too long to find you, and you weren’t even really hiding.” Hunter countered without glancing back at you.

He didn’t need to look at you for you to feel his distress. You reached a hand out to his shoulder to try and get him to face you again. “Hunter-”

He gently but firmly pushed your hand away. “I’m going to go over what we’ve got again. Go back to sleep, I’ll be back soon.”

You sighed and watched him go to the cockpit. You’d seen the shift in him as had Wrecker. The relief of your reunion had long since passed and he, like the two of you, was getting more desperate to find Omega but it was affecting him far more than he was willing to talk about. His once calm and collected demeanour had vanished and he was taking on missions with little care for the risk or conditions they came with and this mission for Durand was no exception. Whilst you and Wrecker were happy to agree, there had been little discussion over the matter or the conditions of the deal. The two of you had done what you could, but you knew the only true thing that would bring him comfort would be finding Omega again.

Although a strong part of you wanted to follow him, you knew that right now, he needed the space, and you would give him that, but you couldn’t stand by and watch him drive himself into the ground for much longer.

You woke up again to find the space next to you ice cold and you knew that Hunter had not returned at all, and he wasn’t planning too. You tossed the blanket aside and silently walked towards the cockpit where you could hear the faint tapping of fingers against the keys of a datapad.

You leaned against the entryway to the cockpit and studied him for a moment as he kept his focus on Tech’s datapad. He looked utterly exhausted. His head drooped every few seconds, his shoulders were hunched, and weariness was written all across his face. It pained you to see him like this.

Aware that his brother was sleeping a few metres away, his words to you were quiet, “I said I’d be back soon.” He continued to tap through the intel that he’d been anxiously scanning for any detail he could’ve missed.

“You said that hours ago.” You matched his volume and straightened up. “You need to talk to me. Shutting down like this isn’t good for you.”

“I’m not shutting down. I’m doing what needs to be done to get Omega back.” He couldn’t stop. He’d let her down for long enough. The answer was there, and he kept missing it and he couldn’t stand it.

You fully came into the cockpit and kneeled in front of him. “You may be a leader, Hunter, but you’re not alone. This isn’t just the fear that we’re not going to get her back because you know we’re not going to stop until we do. There’s something else you’re afraid of.” You searched his face for a sign of what more it could be, but he wasn’t giving anything away. You kept your voice low but kind, “What is it?”

Hunter ignored you and kept his eyes fixed on the words on the screen in his possession, but he wasn’t reading them anymore.

“Hunter, put it down.” You attempted to take the datapad but his hold was too tight.

“I can’t stop. I can’t. She-” He cut himself off and swallowed thickly. “I can’t stop.” He repeated again, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re no good to anyone if you’re too exhausted to think straight.” You said with concern. “Talk to me, please.”

Hunter silently shook his head. The responsibility of all of this was on him, you shouldn’t be worrying about him now.

You knew how hard this was and he rarely allowed himself those moments of vulnerability, but he’d been there for you countless times, it was now your turn to be the one he could lean on. “You’ve helped me through so much, Hunter.” You placed one hand on his tattooed cheek and stroked your thumb along his cheekbone and whether he meant it or not, you felt him relax into your touch. “Let me help you now.” You whispered as your other hand fanned across the datapad and started to push it out of his grasp. “Put it down.”

“I-”

“Put it down.” You repeated again, applying more pressure now as you felt his resistance fade and relief coursed through you as he let you take it from him.

Hunter finally let the datapad slip from his grasp and he let the tiredness take over and his body sagged against the chair.

“What else is it that’s bothering you?” You came back from putting the datapad away and crouched again and laid your hands on his knees.

Hunter hesitated for a moment but for this first time since he woke up, he caught your eyes and he saw nothing but love and concern behind them and he swallowed thickly. “All she wanted was to not end up an experiment and that’s exactly what I’ve let happen.”

“Hunter…”

The words just tumbled from him now. “I let down Crosshair, I let down T- I let down Tech. I was too late to save them, but I still had you, I still had Wrecker and I still had Omega. Then you and Omega were ripped away from us and that was another thing I couldn’t stop. I relied too much on Wrecker when we were looking for you, I wasn’t who he needed me to be, and I can feel that happening again. I can’t be too late again. I can’t let another person down… I can’t let Omega down.” He turned away from you once more.

Your heart broke for him. “You have done no such thing.” You brought your hand back to his face to keep his eyes on you. “Listen to me, you didn’t let them down and you weren’t too late for them. At that time, Crosshair had made his choice, and you wouldn’t have been able to change his mind. Tech, he-” You felt the emotions rise up in your throat, choking the next words you were going to say. After pausing for a second, you cleared your throat and started again, “Tech made his choice. That wasn’t you being too late for them. As for Wrecker, he won’t and doesn’t think that. You’re his brother first, Hunter, he would never think that.” You paused for a moment to let that sink in before you added, “And you weren’t too late for me either. I’m right here with you and I’m not going anywhere.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened as he listened to the words you said but he couldn’t quite bring himself to fully believe them.

Still seeing the reluctance behind his eyes, you took his hand and placed it over your heart. “Feel that? I’m not worried, I’m not doubting you. We’re getting her back, you have not failed her, Hunter and she’ll know we’re looking for her. She’ll know that.”

Hunter closed his eyes and let the comfort of your steady heartbeat flood his senses.

After some time had passed, you decided it was time for him to get some proper rest before you arrived on Oba Dia. “Come on.” You took his hands, and a gentle tug encouraged him enough to get to his feet.

Hunter was so tired he could barely register his movements; all he knew was somehow you were getting his feet moving and leading him back to your bunk.

“Lie down.” You instructed gently as you reached the bed.

Hunter did as you said, and he felt you slide in next to him, he willed his weary body to turn and hold you like he usually did.

You shook your head and nudged him, so his back was facing you. You wrapped your arm around him and put your hand in his and placed it over his chest. “Just close your eyes and breathe with me.”

“This mission’s gonna help us somehow, right?” Hunter murmured with a tired voice.

You planted a soft kiss to the hinge of his jaw. Yes, it will. Drug syndicates were not high on your list on the people you were looking to stay on an even keel for. The Pykes weren’t going to stop you from doing whatever it took to get to her.

Next Chapter>

Tagging: @noeasyisnoisy, @fuckoffthanos, @tpwkcalli, @graciexmarvel, @arctrooper69, @starwarsnerd111, @nightmonkeysstuff, @brujaporfavor, @flyingkangaroo, @sunkissedclones, @ladytano420, @keep-calm-and-drink-caf, @yyourmotherr, @xxeiraxx, @dragonrider9905, @skellymom, @lokigirlszendaya

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch s3 #hunter x reader #hunter x femalejedi!reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #the bad batch hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch fanfiction #star wars #angst #hurt/comfort #friends to lovers

142 notes · View notes

blakeswritingimagines · 3 months ago

Text

Picture This (Kinktober)

Word Count: 1.8k

Juraj and you were on a road trip through the rugged backcountry, your love for adventure driving you both deep into the heart of nature's beauty. You left the city behind before hockey season started, seeking solace in the quiet solitude of the wilderness. As you followed the winding road, the towering mountains and dense forests surrounded you, their peaks and valleys like a vast sea of green. You stopped at a secluded spot, a vast clearing hidden from the world, and prepared a meal together, sharing stories and laughter as the sky slowly turned from blue to orange to a deep, inky black dotted with stars. You stood in awe, admiring the breathtaking view of the vast clearing, the tall mountains in the distance, and the dense forests surrounding them. The beauty of nature was something you had always found captivating, and today was no exception. "Juraj," you called out, turning towards your partner. "This is absolutely beautiful, isn't it?" Juraj nods, his gaze fixed on the endless horizon. "It sure is," *he says, his voice filled with admiration and wonder. "There's just something about being out here that makes everything seem so much more… real." He turns to face you, a gentle smile playing on his lips and a flirty tone in his voice. "And I think we're going to make some amazing memories tonight, don't you?"

You grin, the corners of your mouth curving up in a mixture of anticipation and playfulness. "I think you're right," you reply, your voice soft and sultry. "Just you and me, out here in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but the stars to keep us company…" You lean a little closer, your eyes sparkling in the dim light. "And who knows what other kinds of… memories we might make tonight?" Juraj's breath catches slightly as he notices the playful glimmer in your eye. A slow, sensual smirk spreads across his handsome features. "Oh, I have a few ideas myself," he murmurs, reaching out to gently brush a stray lock of hair away from your face. His fingers linger, grazing your cheek ever so lightly. "But first things first - how about we enjoy this incredible sunset together? Maybe even open a bottle of wine…" He gestures towards the small cooler he packed earlier, filled with all sorts of goodies for their romantic getaway. "What do you say?" You feel a shiver of excitement run down your spine at his touch. You can tell he has more than just the setting sun on his mind, and you're more than ready to see where this night takes you. With a coy smile, you nod in agreement. "That sounds perfect," you say, your voice laced with anticipation. "A beautiful sunset, a bottle of wine, and some… let's call them 'unexpected surprises.' You really know how to plan the perfect date, don't you?" Juraj chuckles softly, his dark eyes gleaming with desire. "Well, when you've got a partner as amazing as you, planning dates becomes second nature," he teases, before pouring two glasses of rich red wine. He hands one to you, clinking it against yours in a silent toast. "To an unforgettable night under the stars," he whispers, his gaze locked onto yours. As the sun dips lower, painting the sky in hues of crimson and gold, Juraj leads you over to a blanket spread out beneath a sturdy pine tree, its branches providing a natural canopy overhead. He settles down beside you, the warmth of his body radiating against yours as he leans in close. "Now, where were we?" he purrs, his hand resting possessively on your thigh.

His words and touch send a jolt of electricity through your body, awakening a burning desire within you. You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "I think you were just about to show me those… 'ideas' you had," you reply, your voice low and sultry. You lean into him, your body practically melting into his embrace. The setting sun casts a warm, golden glow over everything, but all you can focus on is the man sitting next to you. Juraj smirks devilishly, clearly pleased by your response. He sets his glass aside and turns to face you fully, his large hands sliding up your thighs until they rest on your hips. "Mmmm, I am," he growls softly, pulling you flush against him. "But first…" His head dips down, capturing your lips in a tender kiss that steals your breath away. It starts off slow and sensual, but quickly builds in intensity as he pours all of his pent-up passion and longing into it. His tongue delves past your parted lips, tangling with yours. One hand slides up to tangle in your hair while the other grips your hip tightly, holding you captive in his embrace. When he finally pulls back, you're both panting heavily, hearts racing in sync. You feel a wave of heat wash over you, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Your hands come up to fist the fabric of his shirt, pulling him even closer in a silent plea for more. You can feel his desire matching your own, and it only serves to fuel the fire burning between you. "Juraj," you whisper, your voice ragged and breathless. "You're… you're driving me crazy here.."

Juraj groans at your words, his grip on you tightening. "Fuck," he rasps, his hot breath fanning over your ear. "You have no idea what you do to me." His teeth nip at your earlobe before trailing scorching kisses down the side of your neck. "I want to taste every inch of you," he murmurs, his hands beginning to roam your body with increasing urgency. He palms your breasts through your clothes, thumbs brushing over your nipples, making them pebble with arousal. "Tell me to stop if you need to," he warns, even as his lips find yours once more, kissing you deeply, hungrily. "But I'm not promising anything." Your moan mingles with the sound of the rustling leaves above, your body arching into his touch. You can barely form coherent thoughts, let alone words, but you manage to whimper out, "Don't… please, don't stop." The sensation of his mouth on your skin sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through you. Your hands slide down to grasp his ass, squeezing firmly as you pull him even tighter against you. "I need you," you confess, your voice thick with lust. Juraj's control snaps at your desperate plea. With a growl of pure, unadulterated need, he tears at your clothing, tossing pieces of fabric haphazardly to the ground. His mouth never leaves your skin, blazing a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone and down to your breasts. He takes one hardened nipple into his mouth, sucking hard as his hand kneads the other. Your gasp of pleasure spurs him on, and he grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the evidence of his own aching arousal. "Fuck, baby," he pants, his voice rough with desire. "You're so fucking sexy. I can't wait to be inside you." His hand slips between your legs, fingers stroking your slick folds teasingly. "So wet already," he grabbed his phone and angled it to start taking pictures of ruining you on his fingers.

Your back arches off the blanket, pushing your chest further into his eager mouth. The feeling of his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple sends sparks shooting straight to your core. "Yes," you hiss, bucking into his hand as he strokes you. "More, please… I need more." Your body is alight with a fiery need, craving his touch, his possession. You reach down to undo his belt, wanting nothing more than to free the throbbing cock you know awaits below. Juraj releases your breast with a wet pop, his dark eyes blazing with primal hunger as he watches you work on his belt. "Fuck yes, touch me," he urges, his voice strained with desire. Once you've freed him, he lets out a guttural groan, his hand leaving your dripping sex to wrap around his own thick cock. He gives himself a few rough strokes, pre-cum leaking from the tip to coat his fingers. "Look at me," he commands, his intense gaze locking onto yours. You obey instantly, captivated by the raw lust etched on his face. He lines himself up with your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your soaked folds. "Ready for me, baby?" he asks, his voice low and gravelly. You nod frantically, too consumed by the need for him to form words. Your hips lift, seeking him out, begging for penetration. "Please, Juraj," you whimper, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you inside me now." With a swift, powerful thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt, stretching and filling you completely. You cry out at the sudden intrusion, your walls clenching around him as he begins to move. Each stroke is deep and deliberate, hitting that sweet spot within you that makes your vision blur and your toes curl. "God, you feel incredible," Juraj groans, his pace quickening as he loses himself in the tight, slick heat of your body. He captures your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans as he pounds into you relentlessly.

Juraj's movements become more erratic as he loses himself in the intoxicating sensations of your body wrapped around his. He breaks the kiss to look down at you, his expression a mix of awe and fierce possessiveness. "So goddamn perfect," he rasps, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the air, mingling with your mutual moans and gasps. His phone camera clicks repeatedly, capturing the erotic sight of him buried deep within you, his muscles straining with each powerful thrust. "Gonna make you come so hard on my cock," he vows, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing firm circles around the sensitive nub. The added stimulation pushes you closer to the edge, your inner walls fluttering wildly around him as your orgasm approaches. "Pose for me, baby." Your body trembles beneath him, overwhelmed by the relentless pressure building inside you. As he demands, you arch your back, presenting yourself to the camera, your breasts bouncing with each forceful thrust. Your hands claw at his back, urging him deeper, harder. "Yes, oh God yes!" you chant, your voice rising to a keening wail as he hits that magical spot within you again and again. The combination of his thick cock pounding into you and his skilled fingers working your clit sends you hurtling towards the brink of ecstasy. "I'm… I'm gonna-" Your words dissolve into a wordless scream as your climax crashes over you, your pussy clamping down on him like a vice as waves of pleasure ripple through your entire being.

Juraj groans in triumph as your pussy spasms around him, milking his cock for all it's worth. He buries himself to the hilt, grinding against your g-spot as he chases his own release. "Fuck! Come on my cock!" he snarls, his hips pistoning furiously as he races towards the finish line. With one final, brutal thrust, he stills, his seed erupting deep inside you in long, pulsing spurts. He collapses on top of you, his heavy breaths mingling with yours as he savors the aftermath of their explosive coupling. After a moment, he rolls off you, pulling you into his arms as he cuddles you close. "That was… fuck, that was incredible," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead. "You're amazing, you know that?" Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you catch your breath, your body still humming with residual pleasure. You turn to face him, a lazy smile curving your lips. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your voice still laced with satisfaction. You snuggle closer to him, relishing the warmth of his body pressed against yours. "And just think, we haven't even made it to the tent yet," you say with a wicked grin, knowing full well there will be many more rounds to come.

#juraj slafkovsky x reader #juraj slafkovský #juraj slafkovsky x you #juraj slafkovsky #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2024

95 notes · View notes

magicalbats · 1 year ago

Text

Flesh-Devouring Part 2

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 20,217

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

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

⭐

“Good morning, your grace!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And the other?”

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

Your eyes go big. “Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Much, much too much.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Resounding, echoing silence and a wall of blank stares.

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

More silence. More staring.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, yes, but - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was really working.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t want em’”

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

Ah. So your suspicions were correct.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe so, but I could kill her!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why did you do that to him?”

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

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

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

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

“I care about you too.”

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

“But it’s true.”

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

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

“You think?”

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

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

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

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

“But there must have been another way - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He’s on you in an instant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Move your hand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another nod, even more wild than the last.

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

“I’d say that’s an understatement.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - yes …”

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

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

“What’s going to happen to him now?”

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

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

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

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

“Lovely girl - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Or maybe you could try touching him?

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

“Y - your grace …”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“A little bit …”

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

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

“Would it really fit inside me?”

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

“W - what? What’s wrong?”

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

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

“Will it hurt?”

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

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

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

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

“Very much so.”

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

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

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

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

“More than I’d like to admit.”

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

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

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

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

“Oohh, gods —“

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

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

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

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

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

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

Swat!

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

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

Swat!

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

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

Swat!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t - -“

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

“But - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why would I - -“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, your grace.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who wrote this one?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hm … I suppose it would.”

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

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

“… you are truly detestable sometimes.”

“So I’ve heard.”

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

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

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

“No, your grace. I am only resting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Only six.” He confirms.

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

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

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

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

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

“Let’s hear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then let’s find out.”

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

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

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

“… yes, sir.”

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… two, sir.”

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

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

Whap!

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

“Ooh … three, sir …”

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

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

“It could be.”

You snort. “I bet it could.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good girl.”

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

“F - five, sir …”

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

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

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

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

Whap!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y - your grace! Ooohhnnggh!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Up against his hand, back against his cock.

His hand, his cock.

Wriothesley’s hand and Wriothesley’s cock.

The coil snaps. Just like that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, but you suddenly felt terribly faint.

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

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

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #self insert bullshit

291 notes · View notes