#working for Sea Duke

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Y'all. Sir is getting laid.

[arkangelo-7]

Okay, but, Bruce gentle parenting the fuck out of the Justice League is literally such a funny concept. Like, the only reason it works so well is because of the overwhelming amount JL Daddy Issues; they’re all secretly desperate for some parental affection and Bruce is so naturally a Dad that he can’t help himself.

That gold star thing he used to do with Dick? Where he gave him a little star every time he kept himself safe during a patrol? Same thing works perfectly for Clark. He’s literally indestructible (but Bruce worries) so whenever he comes out unscathed from a battle (which is most of the time) he’ll hand Clark a little golden star sticker. Clark collects those things like they’re priceless artifacts and sticks them on his laptop.

The anger management therapy he did with Jason? Where he’d run through katas (a series of choreographed martial arts movements) whilst doing breathing exercises? Works like a charm on Diana and Dinah. They’re both super powered, so anything Bruce puts in front of her they’ll destroy, so going through a good old fashioned kata before a big mission will help them both focus without risking the destruction of the Watchtower.

The mindful meditation he did with Tim? When they’d sit in silence until Tim’s brain finally trained itself to know rest? It’s the perfect thing for Barry. He’s a speedster so his brain moves at about the same pace as Bruce and Tim’s (though maybe not quite as analytically); the post-mission meditation sessions are the perfect thing to help him calm down.

The art therapy he did with Damian? Where they’d paint memories that brought them pain/loneliness/loss/sadness because talking about it was too hard? Surprisingly, both John and Hal are into it. (Must be a Lantern thing.) Neither of them are great artists, but John paints about his time in the army and Hal about his time in the Air Force. They’ve both lost friends and comrades, have seen the worst of humanity up close, and just can’t always verbalize that feelingly of powerlessness even though their the galaxy’s greatest warriors—but they can paint it.

The silent chess games he’d play with Cassandra? Where’d they’d sit there and pick each others brains without having to say a word, could communicate an immense amount of emotion with the slide of a pawn? Great for Jon. He can’t talk into Bruce’s mind (not without considerable effort) and he can’t really talk to Bruce about everything that happened to him on Mars, but they can sit and play chess until they both have a mutual understanding of one another’s trauma.

All the crocheting he’s done with Steph? Where they’d sit in front of a fireplace in Wayne Manor and discuss their similarly complex relationships with their parents? Loved to do this with Arthur, of all people. They have to get waterproof Atlantean yarn, but the efforts worth the creations they make during Monitor duty, and it’s one of those rare time when Arthur can really vent about all of his troubles leading a life above and below sea, being a king, his love life—anything. Bruce will always listen.

And then, all of the soccer that he’s played with Duke? Where they’d let loose and just be competitive? Cyborg similarly appreciates this, but prefers football, naturally. Now, Bruce is too old to tackle a Mother-Box-Enhanced human, but that doesn’t stop him from covertly setting up pick-up football games on the front lawn of the Hall of Justice every other week.

So yeah. Bruce and his gentle parenting.

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

More of Stanley's sketchbook because he makes me sick /pos

(Just imagine he was looking in a mirror at the subway to draw this anshfhwj. The london bus ticket is unrelated, it's just a random knick knack he had lying around<3)

People weren't the only ones Stan met on the streets.

------

+ this is an absolute fucking batshit WILD oneshot I initially wrote for these drawings that got WAY out of hand, if you feel like reading that.

The oneshot below is a stand-alone now, and in no way is related to the drawings above, but I just wanted to show you guys because Jesus Christ

------

Winter of 1981, at a subway station Stan doesn't remember the name of-

The sorry excuse of a transport system that this hellhole of a city called a functioning subway was hardly anyone's first choice of a warm place to stay the night. And yet, here Stanley was; standing like an idiot in the middle of a small bustling stairwell that led down to the full screeching chaos of a train stop on a Tuesday evening. A rowdy crowd of exhausted office workers streamed out like a tidal wave from the entrance of the station, the bustle of their footsteps all too eager to go home and relax after a long day of work.

The faint, stuffy stench of old piss and sweat followed the crowd to the surface from the deep depths of a less than sanitary and overcrowded train station. The pungent smell intermingled with the crisp stinging winter air in a cocktail of shitty city gloom often associated with this time of the year; when the holidays were too far away and the sun seemed to come and go with practically the same 9 to 5 schedule as the workers had, leaving them going to work in the pitch dark and coming back out in the inky black as well.

He might have looked like he belonged there, depending on how one would want to look at it. He stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the sea of prim, pressed suits and neart uniforms. His ratty old jacket and generally unwashed appearance certainly didn’t help his case, but he also knew that stations like these also tended to shelter quite a number of homeless wanderers like him, especially during the winter. So, it wasn't exactly uncommon to see other sore thumbs seeking reprieve from the biting cold and the dangerous likelihood of frostbite from within the enclosed walls of the subway station.

Heck, if most of these underground kingdoms didn't also happen to be a breeding ground for several illicit activities, he might even have followed their lead. But, believe it or not, Stanley's already had enough experience with illegal activities to last him a last time, and he isn't looking for a new fill. He was satisfied with what meager shelter his trusty car offered him, as little a difference it might make in terms of safety.

Stanley's obstruction of the already narrow stairs with his loitering went unappreciated, as shoulders roughly shoved past him and swinging briefcases repeatedly bumped into his sides, usually coupled with a nasty glare and a snide comment or two. He paid them no mind, however. He wasn't here to start a fight with some random bum with a dead end job, as much as he thought it would probably do them both some good to duke their stresses out on one another.

The hours ticked by with wave after wave of new crowds being dropped off by a train and left to pour out of the station into the streets. By the time the streetlights turned on and the pale pink in the sky slowly faded to make way for the stark glittery black of the night sky, the tide of people had slowed to a trickle and rush hour was long since over. He was now the stairs’ sole occupier, with a few occasional stragglers stumbling up the steps and hurrying past him without a second glance.

Stanley did not move from his spot, however. He stood resolutely in the middle of the stairway, fervently rubbing his arms and stamping his feet in a futile attempt to try and regain feeling in his extremities as he waited. Rocking on his heels, he titled his head backwards to let his eyes roam the constellations that carpeted the endless expanse of the sky stretched out above his head, almost losing himself in the scintillating canvas of stars.

It reminded him of old times; of the sparkling beach sand twinkling in the dim moonlight, and the soft sound of lilting waves hovering in the background as he lay back on the cold wooden deck of his ship and watched the stars dance.

He still remembered every name his brother had once recited to him time and time again as he pointed out each star and galaxy from the night sky.

Then, like clockwork, he was broken out of his reveries by a telltale meow coming from below. The sound was a familiar blanket that immediately melted away the tension that had begun to build in his chest as he practically sagged with relief.

His body moved almost automatically as he leaned down to detach the frail tabby cat that was attempting to literally fuse with his legs, purring up a storm and rubbing her head against his pants as though her life depended on it. The cat gave a soft chirrup of dissatisfaction at being manhandled, which Stanley absentmindedly replied with a chiding click of his tongue as he lifted her up his chest and gently tucked her into his jacket in a practiced motion.

She thankfully remained blissfully limp in his grasp as he shifted around some more so that she was nestled comfortably inside the dark pocket of warmth inside his ratty jacket. The tiny warm lump that rumbled contently against his front radiated with heat, and his fingers finally began to feel like actual fingers rather than useless stiff frigid lumps of meat and bone attached to his palms.

A pointed cough startled him from his clumsy wriggling to get the cat to settle down. An oddly familiar security guard stood at the entrance of the station at the bottom of the stairs, leveling Stanley an unimpressed look with the metal gate in his grip already halfway closed, ready to seal the subway for the night. He must have been a comical sight; caught awkwardly bent over while trying to get his newly acquired cat to stop kneading biscuits on his stomach, with said cat peeking out from the gap between his collars.

Stanley faintly recognized the guard. He was a much older man, with a shock of thinning white hair neatly tucked underneath a dark blue cap and a strange depth in his eyes that reminded Stanley of the sea; with countless unspoken truths lurking far beneath the surface, but no less grand and knowing of all that the universe had to offer, as though he had already lived a thousand lives before this one.

He had seen the man around before, at another station, doing the opposite of his job by ushering stray buskers and homeless stragglers from the streets and into the (relatively) safe walls of the subway, instead of doing what any other law-abiding security guard would do and kick them out into the elements. He wasn't sure what the older man was doing here, of all places, since all the previous stations he'd seen the man at had been several states over, practically on the other side of the country.

A brief spark of panic shot through his spine at the thought that this man could be following him, but he quickly discarded the ridiculous notion as soon as it entered his mind. He had never even seen him before, and hardly ever even interacted with him; there was no reason for there to be any sort of bad blood between them. Unless he happened to be related to one of Stanley's many, many enemies, then perhaps his fear was a little warranted.

However, the old guard made no move to attack or do anything other than stare judgmentally, almost expectantly. For the first time in a long time, Stanley felt like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to do. He tried his best to keep his uncomfortable squirming to a minimum under the unrelenting gaze, stubbornly returning the man's gaze with his own wary glare. His cat’s muffled whining came from inside his jacket. The traitor, she was leaving him to deal with the old man on his own.

With an exasperated jerk of his head, the security guard gestured towards the inside of the station. For a moment, Stanley stared dumbly, uncomprehending of what the old man could possibly want from him. Rolling his eyes, this time the man gestured more insistently at the small gap that still remained between the metal gate and the entrance, his arm sweeping the air in a low arc as he dramatically urged Stanley inside. Suddenly, it clicked, and Stanley shook his head.

“I have a car,” he said plainly, his voice echoing loudly in the desolate silence of the winter night that surrounded the unlikely pair.

He wasn't sure why he was so nervous, it wasn't as though he was lying. He did have a car, his trusty Stanley-mobile was parked safely away in the corner of an unassuming alley that wasn't often frequented by anyone. There was no way he was reaching it tonight, though; it was practically on the other side of the city, much too far away for him to arrive at a reasonable time. His nightly excursions to meet his small friend unfortunately left him with no other choice than to leave his car behind, the hunk of metal far too unwieldy and noticeable to drive around openly on the streets. He never knew who could be watching, after all.

He had simply been hoping to find himself a dark corner to tuck himself into with his cat, just for the night, but it seemed as though the universe had other plans. Or rather, this strange old man had other plans.

Although, if Stanley thought about it, the subway wasn't such a bad suggestion. This was one of the safer stations in the city; and with the rich neighborhoods being so close by, no rogue criminal or dealers dared to come near this area unless they wanted to be slapped with a hefty fine or face a higher potential to be arrested. And of course, there was the obvious shelter from the unrelenting cold that now seemed to permeate his bones, even with the purring warmth that was nestled inside his jacket.

So, that was how he found himself hunkering down for the night inside a shabby old subway station, with a satisfied cat still rumbling away against his chest and a strange old security guard locking down the gates behind him. The man said nothing as he hooked his keys back onto his belt and gave a firm pat on Stanley's shoulders as he walked past him, pausing to scratch his cat behind her ears before moving away. His footsteps bounced off of the grimy tiled walls with an odd reverb as he turned a corner.

“You'll be safe in here,” the man said, voice sage and gravelly. The words had a weight to them, and seemed to hang in the air with such a presence it was as though the old man had never even left his side.

The subway was empty, quiet. It was such a stark contrast to the loud rowdiness of the rush hour crowd these halls once held. Stanley hadn't yet registered the utter silence of the station as he aimlessly made his way down the winding, deserted halls of the ancient station. He mindlessly walked past the aged and peeling advertising posters plastered on the walls, his nose becoming accustomed to the stinging stench of the subway. The quiet seemed to swallow the sound of his steps as he explored the branching paths and endless tunnels. They were almost kaleidoscopic, dizzying, nonsensical. There were doors where there shouldn't be, and deadends where it didn't make sense.

The silence only began to truly settle in his bones the more he walked. He suddenly wished that he would head the telltale footsteps of the old security guard again, just to hear another sign of life in this underground hellscape other than himself. The ghostly memories of screeching trains and bustling crowds haunted the halls; now, only nothingness reigned supreme. He glanced down at his small feline companion, who slumbered away against his chest, blissfully unaware of his jackrabbiting heartbeat threatening to burst out of his ribs. The silence seemed to permeate every inch of space and crush the air out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe.

Stanley’s steps grew faster, more frantic as the walls and ceilings seemed to close in on him. They grew smaller, tighter; squeezing, trapping. He hardly even registered his cat's complaints as she was jostled around in his grasp, breaking into a full out run. His breathing sounded loud, too loud, and the world was collapsing around him.

When he finally broke out into a large, open platform, he could finally breathe again. He had arrived at the tracks, the empty tunnel where the trains would pass an empty, gaping maw in the wall that seemed to swallow all light around it and beckon him closer. He felt his cat wriggle out from within his jacket and hop out with a displeasured yowl, scampering away and disappearing behind a corner much like the old man had. True silence pierced his ears and thrummed like a deafening pressure in his temples. He was alone.

Stanley was stuck in that subway station for years.

[reasonsforhope]

"Many people know about the Yellowstone wolf miracle. After wolves were reintroduced to the national park in the mid-1990s, streamside bushes that had been grazed to stubble by out-of-control elk populations started bouncing back. Streambank erosion decreased. Creatures such as songbirds that favor greenery along creeks returned. Nearby aspens flourished.

While there is debate about how much of this stemmed from the wolves shrinking the elk population and how much was a subtle shift in elk behavior, the overall change was dramatic. People were captivated by the idea that a single charismatic predator’s return could ripple through an entire ecosystem. The result was trumpeted in publications such as National Geographic.

But have you heard about the sea otters and the salt marshes? Probably not.

It turns out these sleek coastal mammals, hunted nearly to extinction for their plush pelts, can play a wolf-like role in rapidly disappearing salt marshes, according to new research. The findings highlight the transformative power of a top predator, and the potential ecosystem benefits from their return.

“It begs the question: In how many other ecosystems worldwide could the reintroduction of a former top predator yield similar benefits?” said Brian Silliman, a Duke University ecologist involved in the research.

The work focused on Elk Slough, a tidal estuary at the edge of California’s Monterey Bay. The salt marsh lining the slough’s banks has been shrinking for decades. Between 1956 and 2003, the area lost 50% of its salt marshes.

Such tidal marshes are critical to keeping shorelines from eroding into the sea, and they are in decline around the world. The damage is often blamed on a combination of human’s altering coastal water flows, rising seas and nutrient pollution that weakens the roots of marsh plants.

But in Elk Slough, a return of sea otters hinted that their earlier disappearance might have been a factor as well. As many as 300,000 sea otters once swam in the coastal waters of western North America, from Baja California north to the Aleutian Islands. But a fur trade begun by Europeans in the 1700s nearly wiped out the animals, reducing their numbers to just a few thousand by the early 1900s. Southern sea otters, which lived on the California coast, were thought to be extinct until a handful were found in the early 1900s.

In the late 1900s, conservation organizations and government agencies embarked on an effort to revive the southern sea otters, which remain protected under the Endangered Species Act. In Monterey Bay, the Monterey Bay Aquarium selected Elk Slough as a prime place to release orphaned young sea otters taken in by the aquarium.

As the otter numbers grew, the dynamics within the salt marsh changed. Between 2008 and 2018, erosion of tidal creeks in the estuary fell by around 70% as otter numbers recovered from just 11 animals to nearly 120 following a population crash tied to an intense El Niño climate cycle.

While suggestive, those results are hardly bulletproof evidence of a link between otters and erosion. Nor does it explain how that might work.

To get a more detailed picture, the researchers visited 5 small tidal creeks feeding into the main slough. At each one, they enclosed some of the marsh with fencing to keep out otters, while other spots were left open. Over three years, they monitored the diverging fates of the different patches.

The results showed that otter presence made a dramatic difference in the condition of the marsh. They also helped illuminate why this was happening. It comes down to the otters’ appetite for small burrowing crabs that live in the marsh.

Adult otters need to eat around 25% of their body weight every day to endure the cold Pacific Ocean waters, the equivalent of 20 to 25 pounds. And crabs are one of their favorite meals. After three years, crab densities were 68% higher in fenced areas beyond the reach of otters. The number of crab burrows was also higher. At the same time, marsh grasses inside the fences fared worse, with 48% less mass of leaves and stems and 15% less root mass, a critical feature for capturing sediment that could otherwise wash away, the scientists reported in late January in Nature.

The results point to the crabs as a culprit in the decline of the marshes, as they excavate their holes and feed on the plant roots. It also shows the returning otters’ potential as a marsh savior, even in the face of rising sea levels and continued pollution. In tidal creeks with high numbers of otters, creek erosion was just 5 centimeters per year, 69% lower than in creeks with fewer otters and a far cry from earlier erosion of as much as 30 centimeters per year.  

“The return of the sea otters didn’t reverse the losses, but it did slow them to a point that these systems could restabilize despite all the other pressures they are subject to,” said Brent Hughes, a biology professor at Sonoma State University and former postdoctoral researcher in Silliman’s Duke lab.

The findings raise the question of whether other coastal ecosystems might benefit from a return of top predators. The scientists note that a number of these places were once filled with such toothy creatures as bears, crocodiles, sharks, wolves, lions and dolphins. Sea otters are still largely absent along much of the West Coast.

As people wrestle to hold back the seas and revive their ailing coasts, a predator revival could offer relatively cheap and effective assistance. “It would cost millions of dollars for humans to rebuild these creek banks and restore these marshes,” Silliman said of Elk Slough. “The sea otters are stabilizing them for free in exchange for an all-you-can-eat crab feast.”"

-via Anthropocene Magazine, February 7, 2024

[ilsanslut]

꒷♡꒷ STRESS RELIEF!

♰ featuring: wriothesley [genshin impact]

♰ note: i’m in heat and all i can think about is a stressed and tired wriothesley eating out his pretty gf from the back to relieve his tension.

sypnosis: get you a man who will drown in your pussy and call it “stress relief”! wc: 2.6k content/trigger warning(s): 18+. smut. femme/female bodied!reader. messy pussy-eating. dominant/feral!wriothesley. marking. biting. spanking. squirting. cursing. hand-holding. groping. hair pulling. ꒷꒦

It was almost as though Wriothesley was being crushed under the constant pressure of his job as the warden within the shadowy confines of the Fortress of Meropide. The burden of his obligations bore down on him like the merciless force of the sea that imprisoned them all within the stronghold. When a problem arose or strife broke out among the prisoners, he was the one they all turned to for help. Today, on the other hand, appeared to be the day that he would be pushed to his breaking point. There was a mountain of paperwork that was piled high on top of his desk and seemed to never end; the pipes seemed to trickle and leak indefinitely, necessitating constant repair; the elevators are out of commission for maintenance, forcing everyone to use the forgotten, decrepit, and mildew-smelling stairwell; and, to top it all off, there is a 'Credit Coupon' thief swiping people's credits beneath their noses. And, not to mention, he had been so backed up with dealing with everyone else’s problems that he had already missed his afternoon tea.

Anyone near could feel the ominous aura radiating off of the iron doors of his office.

Though, amidst the chaos and tension, one beacon of solace shone through—you. His light in the darkness. The one thing keeping him sane.

Your warm smile and unwavering support were the calming forces that held the key to unlocking his cold heart. He craved the comforting words you spoke, the softness of your touch, and the calm you provided amidst the chaos of everyday life. You turned into a haven for him—a haven from the relentless pressure that felt like it would swallow him.

Which is exactly why you weren’t surprised when a guard came to you while you were aiding Sigewinne with a patient, informing you that the Duke requested your presence in his office immediately. Lunch was usually shared by the two of you, but you expected that he would be too overwhelmed with work to remember to eat, let alone take a break, given everything he has been going through. The two guards outside his office gave you a pitying glance as you got closer, understanding that things were not good. Nevertheless, they let you cross the bridge and into his office. You went in, and the first thing you saw was Wriothesley sitting on the bottom two steps, as if he were waiting for you. You noticed that his tie was unkempt, his jacket was completely abandoned, and his hair had a disheveled tousle that suggested he had either been tugging or running his hands through it for at least a while. That, and it was impossible to ignore the worn-out look in his faded hues.

But as soon as your eyes met, his worn-out expression changed to something strange but familiar—something you had seen on many sultry nights spent by yourself with him in the past. His eyes were fixed on you, freezing you in place with an indisputable lust, a carnal hunger, and a burning desire. Pushing himself up from the steps, he moved toward you with calculated, deliberate steps, each one more heavy than the last, like a beast cornering its prey, his heavy steel boots clinking against the copper floors. Soon, he was towering over you, hands twitching at his sides as though he were refraining from tearing you apart where you stood.

“You look good.” You blurted, swallowing thickly in your throat, as you were cornered against the heavy steel of his office’s door.

He chuckled, throaty and sultry, as his hand met your waist, the other one coming to rest it’s forearm above your head as he caged you between the door and his muscular frame, “Yeah?”

His casual drawl had your knees going weak, threatening to buckle beneath you while his thumb rubbed slow, salacious circles into your hip. “I think I’ve been better.”

You shrugged nonchalantly with an indifferent hum, raising your hands to trail absentminedly over his large chest that bulged through his dress shirt, finally coming to toy with his tie. “Mhm. You missed lunch today, you know.”

“Did I?” His voice was husky—deep, the subtle rumble of his baritone voice going straight to your core causing your thighs to squeeze against one another—an action that didn’t go unnoticed by Wriothesley, who’s palms grew hungry on you, manuvering behind you to grope thick handfuls of your rear shamelessly. “I’ve been so swamped with work that it must’ve slipped my mind. But . . . I’m sure you understand, right, baby?” His arm that was poised above your head lowered, his partially gloved thumb stroking at the supple flesh of your cheek. “Why don’t you let me make it up to you, yeah? . . . I have an idea that will make us both happy.”

You had an idea as to what he was alluding to, but nonetheless, you nodded with a hum of agreement. This made Wriothesley smirk in response, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear so that he may lean in and press a kiss to your temple.

“Turn around.”

His dominant undertone left little room for argument as you did what he asked, turning around so that you were facing the metal door of his office. Without another moment's hesitation, you felt yourself pushed against it, your body pinned against Wriothesley's heated form with your cheek smushed against the cold metal face of the door. His body pressed firmly against yours, and you felt something unmistakable grinding into your ass, all the while his sharp canines drug themselves up your neck, a silent warning to stay put.

And you did.

Hot, sloppy kisses trailed themselves down the back of your neck as greedy palms groped and squeezed at your body wherever they could reach—almost as though they were attempting to alleviate tension with every heated touch. Sensing his descent, you eventually heard him drop to his knees behind you, his gloved hands reaching up to lift your skirt and turn it over to expose your plump, pliant rear. A growl, something animalistic and ravenous, came from the back of his throat, and one of those large palms rose for a split second before slapping your right cheek, making you squeal and making Wriothesley laugh.

“Careful, Y/N.” He chided, using his palms to massage the abused flesh as an imprint of his hand—ringed fingers and all—slowly began to appear on your ass. “This door may be thick, but this chamber echos. You don’t want the guards and—Gods know who else—hearing you on the other side, do you~?”

You felt your face heat up against the frigid door’s surface, now acutely aware of the silence on the other side, which meant his guards were now undoubtedly listening. Nonetheless, you nodded, casting a shy glance over your shoulder to your lover, who was already gazing up at you with half-lidded eyes and that salacious smirk on his face that just made your knees go weak and your folds gush with arousal.

“Not that there’s anything wrong with that though,” He stated nonchalantly, leaning over to press a soft kiss against your ass as sinful digits reached up to peel your already soaked panties down your thighs until they pooled at your ankles. Wriothesley groaned inwardly, his pupils blown, as he used his thumbs to spread you apart in all your glory, admiring how your folds glistened in the dim lights of the lower floor of his office. “*I can’t promise that I’ll be going easy on you either, baby.”

Without saying another word, his hands reached out and took firm hold of both your cheeks, spreading them wide before plunging straight into your dripping folds. Immediately, your knees were buckling beneath you as a pleasured mewl escaped your lips, your nails dragging against the metal surface in an attempt to find purchase. With his hands leaving your ass to wrap around the front of your thighs, his tongue was unrelenting as it ruthlessly claimed every inch of your pussy to himself, drawing you closer to him so he could continue to devour you. His tongue was hot, heavy, and drooling as it spread you wide open, encircling your clit, and slurping up whatever delicious goodness you had to offer. His nose pressed deep into your wetness, drowning in your depths, but he did not seem to care in the slightest. He wanted more—craved more—and one thing about Wriothesley was that he was a man who got what he wanted.

His tongue and ravenous lips wrapped around your tender nub and sucked away like a starving man enjoying the sweetest nectar of life, leaving you a moaning mess above him and unable to stop your hips from moving on their own as you practically fucked yourself against his face. You didn’t care if the guards—or anyone else, for that matter—heard you. All you could focus on was how his sweltering and deft mouth had you practically creaming onto his selfish brims already.

“Wrio~!” You keened, nearly losing your footing had it not been for Wriothesley keeping you firmly in place by his grip. “I-I can’t! I-It’s too much!” You whimpered just as another cry drew from your lips from a jolt of pleasure from your nethers.

In response, you felt another sharp spank rain down on your ass, and Wriothesley finally withdrew, but only so that he could snarl out, “You can and you will. Fucking take it, Y/N.” He was breathless, panting—truly, a man starved in his most primal state.

He pulled away momentarily, strings of your arousal clinging to the lower half of his face, which was glistening in your translucent juices, to turn to your inner thighs. His jaw widened before clamping down harshly on your once supple flesh, biting and sucking the blood to it’s surface to leave furious marks in his wake.

“Wriothesley!” You wept with delight and surprise at the lewd action that made your folds rub together, and you were unable to ignore the disgustingly lewd squelching sound that came from your cunt.

He repeated the same action, this time on your ass cheek, taking the pliant flesh between his teeth and delivering yet another primal bite to your soft skin, effectively marking you. “Shit, Y/N.” His heated breath wafted over your clit, making you clench around nothing as he huffed and panted like a mutt against your thigh, an action that your attentive lover obviously noticed. “The things you do to me . . .~”

Without saying anything more, he plunged back into you, even more intense than before. With his deft fingers reaching around your front and rubbing quick, merciless circles onto your clit, he was aiming at his sole target, your sopping hole. Pushing his tongue in and out of your wetness, he slurped every last drop of your sweet juices onto his tongue. He was milking you like a machine—using your clit as the trigger to release more and more of your translucent fluids onto his tongue, which he rapaciously gluped down. All the while, your toes curled in your shoes, and as every one of his hot, heavy pants exhaled through his nose, you were able to feel it against your pretty asshole.

“Wrio, wrio, baby, please! R-Right there, I-I’m gonna . .” Your hasty pleas were cut off, your hand reaching back to tangle itself into your boyfriend’s smokey locks, holding him in place as you basically rode his tongue.

You felt him chuckling against your folds before you heard him, unable to stop the sharp cry that escaped you from the sudden vibration. His hand left your clit, however, it was soon replaced with his mouth in favor of meeting your hand with his own. He pried your death grip from his locks, intertwining his fingers with your own as his head shook back and forth between your thighs. His lips suckled away at you in such an unforgiving way that it made your head spin and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Anyone within the immediate vicinity could definitely hear the unabashed slurping and squleching sounds emanating from his efforts as they reverberated through his office's chambers.

He took your hand in his and massaged calming circles around your knuckles until you finally came undone in front of him, unable to contain your overwhelming euphoria. A series of cries and mewls left your lips, leaving you breathless as your juices came flooding out of you, drenching your lover’s face and attire in a torrent, which he happily gulped down. Had it not been for his grip on your frame, you most definitely would’ve collapsed, but he held you firmly against him, even using his face to support your weight at one point like your own personal seat—because it was. After all, he was yours just as much as you were his, and he’d be damned if anything tried to change that.

His hurried movements subsided during your high, his tongue now languidly stroking your folds to carry you through your blissful daze; still, you could not control your hips from lurching each time he touched your tender, pulsating nub. Before long, he began to back off, giving you some leverage and giving himself space to finally breathe. His hot breath wafted against your behind, his chest rising and falling with each breath, finally being kind enough to himself to give him the sweet, sweet oxygen his lungs had been begging for.

Slowly, he rose from behind you, your half-lidded gaze meeting his own through the tears that formed on your lash line, which he wiped away with a swipe of his thumb.

“Y’still with me, pretty?” He whispered in a honeyed drawl, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder as the hand that was holding your own moved to your bicep to rub soothing circles along your arm.

You nodded, albeit weakly, still recovering from the mind-shattering orgasm he had just put you through.

“Y’feel better now, Wrio?”

He responded with a hearty chuckle, rolling his neck in a tantilizing way that exposed his throbbing Adam’s apple and scarred throat. His gaze met your own again, this time with a familiar spark burning behind his dusky hues, “Ahh, a’litte bit.”

He leaned over you once again, his forearm resting above your head as his chest pressed against your back. You gasped, your hips jolting as you felt his rock-hard bulge pressing against you, just barely managing to graze your sopping folds.

“Still feeling a little ‘tense’ here . . . but you’d be willing to help me out,” He leaned in, his lips brushing against your ear. Although you couldn’t see him, you could practically feel the smirk beaming from his stupidly handsome face.

“Right, baby?”

Oh, he was going to be the death of you someday.

ⓒ vampiie 2024 — all rights reserved. please do not repost my work outside of tumblr, modify, or translate my work in any form/means. please do not share my work to tiktok or any other site.

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ WHERE THE HEART LIES ˚ ༘♡

a/n: fluff, pining, childhood friends to lovers, reader was in the same orphanage as wriothesley when they were kids, mild codependency (?)

happy wishing everyone! ≧◡≦

Amongst the hundreds of books stored in the Duke's office, none hold a place in his heart quite like the dusty old atlas you gave him when you were children.

It's old and worn, something aged with the faint scent of Tidalga wafting as the pages turn. To an outsider, the atlas almost looks like garbage, or rather, exactly what it is—the only crappy book in the entire vintage shop that you could afford with your terrible allowance.

He doesn't see it that way.

It's a precious commodity to him, something he holds in high regard (despite the way he's glued the spine together on nearly a dozen occasions with the amount of times he's flipped through it).

Wriothesley is not a sentimental man. Growing up the way he did taught him not to grow too attached to material belongings.

There are few things in the world he would consider treasures: his boxing gloves, for one, though that's a given. His growing tea collection that originally started as a treat he would spend coupons on, but somehow evolved into a hobby.

And lastly, but perhaps most importantly, the map of Teyvat you gave him in the orphanage you came from. Because it wasn't only a birthday gift, it was something infinitely more meaningful than that.

He remembers that birthday fondly: he was twelve and you were ten. You'd snuck into his room beyond curfew and lights out, sheltered yourself under his blanket, and shoved the poorly packaged gift bag into his hands.

The two of you spent the entire night going through the pages, amazed at how giant the world truly was outside the confines of your orphanage—imagined how freeing it would be to explore it with nothing but your pair of feet and each other.

"One day," you breathed with excitement bubbling in your voice, "We'll leave this place and travel all across Teyvat."

It wasn't just a promise to see the world. It was a promise to see it together.

For a boy who had nothing at all, what you offered him was like placing the universe itself in his hands. And even at twelve years old, with you and that book sitting between his legs and a blanket thrown over his body, he knew he'd found a dream.

The older he got, the more he clung to that. 

You were the one he came back to when he was lost. The one who made the orphanage a home. The one who gave him a raggedy atlas of the world and whispered purpose into him.

Something to cherish. Something to protect. Something to love in this world when he had little to spare.

Though time had changed everything in his life, he still found it hard to abandon the welded pieces of your conjoined hearts.

Unlike Wriothesley, you had chosen to return to the surface after you finished serving your sentence.

It was lonelier beneath the crushing pressure of the sea without you. He made sure you knew that, too, always bringing it up whenever you came by to visit in the most nonchalant ways.

The Fortress of Meropide was a home both of you had discovered after years of being without one. "Come home already," he used to complain when he was still just a regular inmate and you were dropping by with a care package. "I miss you."

Nowadays, he made certain you understood the gap in his heart without you by other means. Like, say, when he would invite you personally to his office for a cup of tea and some cake, which was a rare treat you missed out on as kids.

Once, you called him out for attempting to bribe you back down into the iron fortress which he, of course, denied with his chest. Still, you never failed to make the trip down despite your outspoken disinterest in being back in the prison, and his weak offer of sweets since you now worked at one of the most prestigious bakeries in the city.

You had initially greeted him this time with your hands all over him, arms wrapped so tightly around his neck in a hug that he could barely breathe. Sweet smiles and kisses pressed to his cheeks and fingers pinching his nose—every action endearing and a remnant of your childhood spent together.

Now, you're seething in the office at his simple question: how are things on the surface?

"... That's when I turned to Lady Furina and, get this, she somehow ate every pastry I'd brought in a matter of seconds!" You huff, pacing back and forth in front of Wriothesley's desk while you rant about your latest visit with the Archon.

Furina was often in your schedule in one way or another, and almost always she wanted you to bring along sweets from the shop you worked at.

Wriothesley finds humour in your woes, following you around in your pacing with his arms folded over his chest.

"You know, you could just show up to your audiences with her without treats."

"She would call high treason and toss me back in prison!"

The Duke just snorts, earning him a well-deserved glare. Even with the pull of your lips into a thin line and the narrowing of your eyes, he thinks you look like a breathing angel under the warm orange light of the office.

There was nothing in the world you could do that would make him stop loving you. Not even glaring daggers at him like he's your mortal enemy.

"You're exaggerating," he hums, trailing behind you once again as you pace around the desk. 

"No, I'm not. She's absolutely crazy. She's insane—!"

He nearly bumps into your back when you suddenly halt in your steps, attention stolen from the conversation. The hands that were flailing around in the air to animate your anguish drop to your sides.

Wriothesley peers curiously over your shoulder at what has caused you to stop so abruptly.

Oh. Oh, Archons. He can sense the heat rising to his ears.

He feels as though he's been spotted in vulnerability, even though that isn't at all what has happened and that you would be the last person to judge him even if he was.

But he feels seen. Caught in the act of sentimentality just because you've picked out the book you gave him all those years ago when all you had was each other.

"You still have this?" You gawk, pulling the atlas from its prestigious position on his bookshelf. It's in a spot that he can always see as soon as he enters the room—in his direct line of sight, he has a part of you with him.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, I just thought..." You consider the words for a moment, tasting them in your mouth before admitting embarrassingly, "I just thought you'd have thrown it out for a newer atlas. You know this is out of date, right? Half the oasis in Sumeru is covered in sand now."

"Why would I ever throw it out?"

"It's old," you lament again.

"And?"

"And... you can't even use it?" Your statement comes out more as a question and he can't help but roll his eyes.

"I can still use it," he insists.

You raise a brow, slotting the book back into its regular spot. "Good luck. When are you ever going to have time to do that, oh great and powerful Lord of the Fortress of Meropide?"

He ignores your little jab, as he's gotten so good at throughout his life. There's a sense of familiarity that rises in his chest, a strange nostalgia that drives him to open his mouth once more.

"Actually, about that..."

You turn to look at him again, hand coming up to brush the hair from his eyes. You always used to scold him for not taming it better. Now it seems permanently stuck as a fluffy mess.

"What is it?"

Your fingers graze his skin and he falls apart on the spot, feeling as though you had just tipped him over the edge of the cliff he's been too afraid to dive off of.

His hand catches yours, holding it just beside his cheek for a moment before lowering it to his side and tugging you just a little closer.

If he didn't ask now, would he ever?

"Let's leave this place," he murmurs, reciting the dream you promised him when he was twelve years old. "Let's travel all across Teyvat."

The silence that follows is so loud that it makes his ears ring. For a moment he falters, thinking he may have misread the situation and in turn whatever feelings he thought you may have harboured for him.

But then you take a daring step forward, nearly flush against his body. There's a look of wonder in your eyes that makes his heart race.

"Just you and me?"

"Just you and me." Just us.

There's a heavy implication behind that and you both know it. More than a proposal to chase a dream of bygone days, it's starting to sound like a confession. In his own roundabout ways, of course.

He can see the hitching of your breath, the subtle widening of your eyes, and all he wants to do is laugh at how seriously adorable you look.

"And what about the Fortress?"

"People here are less problematic nowadays than you may think."

"Won't the paperwork back up?"

"I can deal with it whenever I come back."

"Why me?"

Another silence.

"You ask too many questions," he says quietly, dodging your interrogation. In reality, he already has an answer. It's instantaneous, resting comfortably in his mouth but never leaving.

Why would it ever be anyone else?

He's having trouble focusing on anything right now with your chests so close together and his thumb running along your knuckles.

"Wriothesley," you say his name and it sounds like honey, the sweetest thing in all of Teyvat. And the look you're giving him, so touched and melting into nothing but a smiling mess—he isn't sure his heart can handle this. "I can't believe you remembered that."

"You kiddin'?" He laughs, slowly closing the distance between you. "It's all I've thought about my whole life."

He watches you carefully as you swallow down the lump in your throat. Your hand squeezes his and that's when he knows he's got you. You kiss him and he can feel the curve of your lips, the ever growing smile on your face meeting his. His knees are on the verge of buckling by the time you pull away.

"Surely you'll miss this place in your absence. This is your home now, isn't it?" You tease.

"Well, you know what they say." He gives you a grin so wide that his eyes crinkle. "Home is where the heart is."

It didn't matter if you were braving a sandstorm or the rainforest or the depths of the sea. 

Wherever you were, you would be his dream. You would be his home, too—just as you always had been for as long as he could remember.

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

[rosieleej]

It’s crazy that the twins are turning 25 today because at this moment probably Dipper has already finished his degree in engineering and is doing a masters and maybe a PHD, Mabel having finished hers in art. At this rate they’re old enough to drink, and drive, and vote and reflect on what-the-f happened to them as kids. Right now they’re probably celebrating their birthday in a small private party in the shack. Now the grunkles are 80 yrs and too old to sail at sea. Maybe now Greta is about to marry that duke; she’s as confident and beautiful as she’s ever been. Maybe Candy has some interesting stuff going on. Soos has a child with Melody, and the grandma has passed away, Waddles as well. Wendy is probably not working at the Mystery Shack ( she still cuts wood in her free time). The Weirdmagedon was so much time ago that all of Gravity Falls now can laugh about it. No one really talks about Bill, or the monsters, or the destruction, death and fear that came with them. For more than a decade the town has been at peace. For more than a decade Ford hasn’t feel like a freak. For more than a decade Stan has had what he had wanted for the most part of his life. For more than a decade the Pines twins, both sets, have been loved.

Mabel is now longer afraid of growing up. She already has, and she’s thriving. Dipper doesn’t fears he’s not good enough. Maybe their parents divorced, maybe they didn’t, but each year instead of going home in summer break from college they go to the same small town that opened their arms to them so so many years ago, and they feel like children again.

They. The children that taught me that growing up maybe is not so bad.

Happy Birthday indeed Mabel and Dipper Pines

[incorrectbatfam]

Jason is a hopeless romantic 100%

it just doesnt show

But everyone goes to him whn its time to plan dates

Dick: Hey, can I ask you something?

Jason, reading: No.

Dick: You see, Wally and I have our weekly date night coming up, but we've been to pretty much every place there is. You got any ideas for how to shake things up?

Jason: *scribbles coordinates and tosses him the Bat-plane keys*

[later]

Wally: Wow, I've never been to the top of the Eiffel Tower.

Dick: I'm glad you like it.

Dick: *texts Jason a thumbs up*

Jason: *read at 8:55 PM*

———————

Tim: Jason, glad you're here! I totally forgot it's me and Bernard's six-month anniversary. Help me out, man.

Jason, clipping his toenails: Fine. You better write this down 'cause I'm only saying it once.

Tim: *nods*

Jason: Go to Home Depot. You're gonna need some rope, a tarp, hammer and nails, a hatchet, matches, and fuel. After that...

Tim: *furiously takes notes*

[later]

Bernard: A camping trip was a great idea. It's nice to get away from it all. And I can't believe you set this all up yourself.

Tim, chuckling nervously: What's a boyfriend for if not to build a tent and chop down a tree?

———————

Duke: So the school dance is coming up.

Jason, working: Theme?

Duke: Under the sea.

Jason: Ugh, how cliché. Anyway, Armand's Tailoring has a blue suit that'll match whatever your girlfriend's wearing. Tell him I sent you. After that, call Patricia's Bistro and make a reservation with the code word "surreptitious." Alfred can take you in the limo if you give him a 24-hour heads-up to clean it. Once you're there, remind the DJ he owes me a favor to get your song requests bumped up. And remember, a slow dance is basically moving your feet in a square but otherwise go with the flow.

Duke: Sweet, thanks!

———————

Cass: Steph is sad.

Jason, cooking: *sighs*

Jason: *takes out a tub of ice cream*

Jason: *scoops a hole in the middle*

Jason: *fills it with candy*

Jason: Here.

Cass: Thanks!

———————

*phone rings*

Jason, waking up from a nap: What?

Kory: Sorry if I woke you. Barbara's coming over for breakfast in half an hour but I burned it with my powers. It was supposed to be eggs benedict.

Jason: Order takeout and put it on fancy plates.

Kory: You're a lifesaver—

Jason: *already hung up and went back to sleep*

———————

Kate: It's Renee's birthday tomorrow. I have a gift, but I'm not sure if it's good enough.

Jason, polishing his gun: If it's from you, it will be.

———————

Bruce: *walks in*

Bruce: Hey, son. Selina's not talking to me after our argument. How do I tell her how much she means to me?

Jason, reciting Shakespeare: I know no ways to mince it in love, but directly to say, "I love you."

Bruce: You're right. I'm just gonna tell it to her straight. Thank you.

Bruce: *leaves*

Jason: *takes off his headphones and turns around*

Jason: Did someone say something?

———————

Damian: Todd, what is love supposed to feel like?

Jason: Why do you want to know?

Damian: None of your concern. Now tell me.

Jason: *shoots a training dummy*

Jason: It's when they're lodged in your head like a bullet. Except without the excruciating pain and messy red stuff.

Damian, nodding: Tell me more.

———————

Roy: *takes down a villain*

Jason, sitting on a roof: *wolf whistles*

Roy: The hell?

Jason: I know hot when I see it.

Roy: What are you doing here?

Jason: I brought Arrowdogs.

Roy: You hate Arrowdogs.

Jason: But you don't.

Roy: Aw, how sweet—EYES UP HERE, TODD!

[sea-dukes-assistant]

Valentine's Day

Sea Duke: *gifts me a box*

Me: *opens box* Oh sweet, 1805! Sea Duke: Yes now you can stop using mine.

Me: THANK! 😃

Also me, next morning: *uses his bottle of 1805*

[yandere-sins]

Wriothesley didn't smile much.

Occasionally, he felt his features being torn into a grimace of faux pleasantry, his eyes as cold as the sea that his prison lay beneath while he bared his teeth to pretend a mood he wasn't in. People liked it when he appeared friendly before them; he felt nothing. Only the most perceptive amongst them would have noticed his smiles never reaching his eyes. And those few knew better than to run their mouths. There simply wasn't much to smile about when he kept himself busy by dealing with the problems and conflicts that kept rising around him. No matter how hard he worked, he always woke to a new day of challenges. It was how he wanted it, as it allowed him to forget the memories he didn't want to ponder.

And though Meropide forged unique relationships amongst its prisoners, the same couldn't be said about Wriothesley.

Even respected and, occasionally, admired by others, his life was more lonesome than it would seem to some. Good company was hard to come by when he spent all his time below the surface, running his prison and enjoying tea in his office with only his own thoughts to listen to. Every day was bittered by the uncertainty of the future he never thought he'd live to see. That same bitterness robbed him of genuine smiles to decorate his face with.

That was until you came along.

If he was the gasoline keeping the machines working, you were the match setting them ablaze. If he was the hot water to make his tea, you were the sugar sweetening his day. There was no friendly banter to have with you, no matter how little Wriothesley cared for the cold shoulder and snarky rejections you gave him every time he sought you out. And yet, the thought of seeing you again was enough to put a spring in his step, his lips parting in a grin more becoming of a little boy than a grown man.

Undoubtedly, you'd be there, in his office, sorting through his paperwork or glowering at the tea cups as you counted down the seconds the leaves needed to seep. You were meticulous like that, although Wriothesley would have drunk straight-up poison if you had served it. He knew you would welcome him with a sigh and your attention diverted towards other matters than him—you liked the credit coupons way too much that this work earned you. It was a privileged position, and you sought after any work Wriothesley handed you, even if you harbored no other feelings but indifference for the 'Duke'.

But how could he not adore you?

It had been a while since Wriothesley felt as alive as he did when he met you. You might have turned down any offer to join him for a meal (on his dime, mind you) or to give you a paid day off. Still, the way you fretted over a minor, completely irrelevant mistake you made was too adorable to send you away. He loved your serious ways, loved your hardworking mindset. He kept replaying your focused expression and grimaces in his head, chuckling into the darkness while he laid in bed at night.

There was no particular reason his heart chose you. Or perhaps his heart chose you, which made the reason special? But either way, he watched you over the edge of the report he should have been reviewing. Watched your hand guiding the feather over the paper you were working on, wishing you'd come over and hold his hand instead.

Wriothesley observed how you furrowed your brows tensely, wondering if you'd let him massage the tension away. He caught the way you nibbled at your lips, wishing he'd be able to have a taste of them instead. Working with you was torture. Torture he enjoyed a little too much.

"You're going to stare a hole through that paper, your grace," you noted, not even looking up at him as you spoke. You two weren't on the best terms since you still hated him after he thwarted your plans to escape the prison. But the way you called him by the respectful title he didn't care about didn't send a shiver down his spine because of the vitriol you spat it with. The grin curling the corners of his lips was evidence of that, but Wriothesley quickly hid it behind his hand, clearing his throat.

He went to grab his cup of tea, but it was already empty. The sinking feeling of disappointment curled in his stomach as he realized what this meant.

"It's past your work hours," he reminded you, secretly hoping you'd not care. It was past his work hours, too, but he'd rather sit in silence with you, working, than at home with only the memory to keep him company.

"You're right," you noted, no indications of your next move from the sound of your voice. Would you stay? Would you leave? You kept scribbling the itemization he had you create, and a glimmer of hope lit his world up. That was, until you set down the feather, gathered your documents, and created order on your table that Wriothesley had squeezed into his pretty crowded office.

Before you could say anything, he had gotten up, standing even before you did. "I will see you out," he explained as you glared at him, knowing fully well that with his gaze so strangely fixated on you, his reaction was not normal. And it wasn't, not when it made his heart beat incredibly fast, Wriothesley hoping you couldn't hear it break out of his ribcage the closer he got to you.

"My, someone's in a hurry," you commented snidely, and Wriothesley's grin jerked back into place. "Are you invited on a date or something...?"

"Depends," he started, quickly catching his composure after the initial surprise over your question. Was it jealousy, perhaps? A man could dream. "Are you free tonight?"

Taking a quick step forward, he stopped you in your tracks, coming to a halt in front of you. You two stared at each other in silence, displeasure written over your face that was just inches away from his. Your breath caressed him, swirls of your scent fogging his mind. Wriothesley could have leaned forward, abused this situation in ways unbecoming of his position. Risking it all just to brush his lips against yours. But his heart might have burst into a million pieces had he done so. Instead, he stood and waited, hoping for you to be the first to break the charade of your hatred. Give him the signals he so desperately hoped for.

Maybe it was all false after all. Perhaps you felt even just the smallest piece of love for him, too.

But instead, you rolled your eyes as you pushed past him, gesturing for him to go down the stairs first. He was your superior, after all, although he would rather squeeze up next to you than walk before you. Even if his heart clenched with your simple and justified rejection, it was unthinkable he'd miss out on the chance to walk beside you and watch you like a hawk until the very end.

"Funny," you finally replied, and it brought the heat to his face as you complimented him. Wriothesley was not trying to be funny by asking you out—again—but he'd take what he could. "But I fear I'm too busy for that. I'd rather get out of this prison faster than waste my time."

The laugh that escaped him was one he had practiced for years, barely distinguishable from a real one. It covered the hurt of your rejection and the fear of losing you. Inside this prison, he had the power to keep you by his side. But outside of it? His reach didn't go much further than these walls.

"You're very optimistic about your time here. How refreshing."

It was rare that you smiled in his presence. In fact, Wriothesley seemed to cause your mood to sour with the whisper of his name alone. So when it was your turn to grin, he noticed it immediately. He watched your lips curl in awe as if you were bestowing him with a blessing rather than your pity.

"It's already been a year, your grace. And don't try to tell me my behavior wasn't anything but perfect. I don't think my sentence will be much longer than what I've been given after the escape."

Time slowed as you moved forward, passing Wriothesley as his steps halted. You noticed quickly when his shoulder stopped bumping into yours, standing still at the bottom of the staircase before turning around.

"Don't tell me you thought I'd always be here."

Of course, he didn't. He knew your time would come. But not so soon... had it really been a year already?

"I'm glad for you," he mumbled, more out of reflex than from his heart. Wriothesley only ever strived to have his prisoners redeem themselves, but did that really mean he had to let you go? "Your hard work will be missed."

"I'm sure," you replied, turning back to the door before heaving open the heavy metal as he trudged after you slowly. The news hit him like a fist to his face, breaking, shattering. But it was his heart that received the blow. Perhaps in all this time, he enjoyed himself a little too much by your side, the end of your sentence seemingly so far away. And now that you were slipping out of his grasp, the panic began to fester—feelings he could not control.

"As always," you suddenly chimed up, and although his eyes didn't stray from you, Wriothesley noticed you two were no longer alone, activating the false persona you liked to display in front of strangers. It always made him feel special that you didn't put it up before him, but right now, he wished the conversation wouldn't be interrupted. That he had time to convince you to stay here. With him.

"It was a pleasure working with you, your grace. I look forward to our next meeting. Don't let me keep you!"

And with a smile and a wave, you bounced off to enjoy your evening. Away from him. Happy without him.

Wriothesley could barely pull himself together to greet the prisoner who walked up to him. The man tried to get his attention, but Wriothesley watched you disappear into the crowd even long after you were gone.

"Your grace!" the man suddenly yelled right next to his ear, and although it was not as angelic and beautiful as what came from your lips, it tore him right out of his thoughts.

"That person," the man mumbled, pointing the way you left and indicating he was talking about you. He leaned in closer to whisper, and Wriothesley curled his hands into fists, holding back from punching him after he dared mention you. "There's something I have to tell you about."

"Sure," Wriothesley said, wincing at his own soundless answer. He couldn't help the annoyance that someone knew something about you that he didn't. But he'd listen and learn.

"To say it frankly, they've not been conducting themselves properly. Many of us have suffered from their actions, and now that they will be released, I think we should speak up about their misdeeds."

Oh, Wriothesley thought, the tension falling off him. He raised his hand to pat the man's back, inviting him inside his office. Wriothesley couldn't pretend not to be happy, a gentle smile creeping over his face. It was a little less fake than any other smile he had given the countless prisoners around here, but the real ones were still only reserved for you. "These are some serious accusations. How about we take your statement inside?"

He sent the man inside, looking back into the crowd aimlessly for the sight of you before he shut the door. You were somewhere out there, still thinking you'd get to go home soon. Wriothesley smiled. Unless there was a reason as to why you'd need to stay.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

"It's good to see you again."

It was impossible to wipe away the big smile off his face as you stood before him, frowning deeply.

"I'm really, truly sorry that your sentence has been prolonged. But alas, it will be nice to work by your side once again."

He watched with the greatest satisfaction as you bit your lip, the thought of kissing you right on the mark popping into his head again. However, fear crossed his features as he noticed you didn't stop, even as it started to bleed. Wriothesley wondered how your blood tasted before he focused back on the situation at hand. He knew you had to hold back every inch of your being to not scream and cry and shout at him, although he would have liked to be given a reason to shut you up—any way necessary.

You knew fully well he was the one signing your final sentence. Buying and selling illegal goods didn't warrant another five years of imprisonment. But your conduct had been too good to push for the ten years Wriothesley wanted—believe him, he fought hard for justice that day. Even Neuvillette was surprised that Wriothesley was so intensely interested in your redemption. However, the Ludex still went against the pleading of an old yet desperate and needy friend and just gave you five.

It was disappointing, but Wriothesley didn't plan on letting the time he had been given go to waste.

Picking up his cup, he held it out to you, giving you a gentle, reassuring smile that reflected nothing of the malice he had to harbor to get you to stay. After all, he was delighted, thoroughly pleased even. The day had only just begun and his mood was already through the roof just having you back in his office again.

"Cup of tea?" he asked innocently. Your eyes dropped to the cup, a hint of uncertainty about why he was treating you so kindly even though you misstepped again.

"On it," you mumbled, taking the cup from his hand, your fingers brushing over his, feeling much too soft for such a bad criminal as you were. But before he could imagine those fingers wrapped into his hair and clothes in an intense make-out session, you shocked him as you whispered, "Thank you, your grace," as if to thank him for not kicking you out from this job that definitely benefitted you. You were still snide, still angry you had to do it in the first place. But apparently, a part of you recognized his innocence as goodwill. At least, he could make himself believe that besides the perceived snark.

Off you went to brew some tea, standing barely ten meters from him. But at least with your back turned, you missed the heat spreading over Wriothesley's face, into the tip of his ears and across his cheeks. And even when you turned back, the hand clasped over his mouth didn't give away the genuine smile of adoration he couldn't seem to wipe off his face. Wriothesley would enjoy the time spent with you, day after day, waiting for you to make another mishap so you'd have a reason to stay with him forever. Otherwise, Wriothesley was sure he'd find another way to keep you all to himself.

But for now, he'd start by making you smile at him first.

[lovebugdrabbles]

“Wanna sleep on every piece of fuzz and stuffing that comes out of you…”

Drabble abt falling asleep on Wriothesley's office couch <3

Notes: i hate him. he makes me sick. i want him dead. slash j but i understand the title when i think abt him. inspo was the nap that i need lmfao.

Warnings: none. pure fluff for once. truly a little shocking for my body of work tbh. 400 words.

Now playing.... ‘HOLD ME TIGHT OR DON'T’ by Fall Out Boy

It's not the ideal place to nap, but the duke's office is probably the safest place to catch some Zs in the fortress aside from his bed, of course. And napping with his coat thrown over you added an extra layer of security from the chill of the fortress and comfortability with the way his cologne and the smell of him stuck to the fabric draped over you. It almost lulled you further to sleep. 

Besides all that, you’re even safer now that he's long been done with his paperwork and is simply gazing lovingly, his head propped up on his hand as you snore away. 

He can’t lie about the situation however. He's a bit jealous of how you mumble in your sleep and nuzzle the throw pillow you’re laid on as you snooze, but when he's finally had enough of being green with envy for the inanimate object, he stands from his desk and walks over to the couch. 

He kicks his boots off and to the side next to your own shoes. He almost laughs at the socks he forgot he had on underneath, a gift from you. They’re blue ones patterned with seahorses, but the memory makes him smile and turn his attention to you again. 

He places his hands underneath you and when you stir, pushing him away and throwing your legs out of reflex he doesn’t mind and so softly explains, “Hey, It's me. it’s just me, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” before pecking you on the forehead

When you calm again he’ll gently hoist you into his arms and maneuver to lay the two of you on the couch. He lets you settle on his chest this time instead of the pillow, now confident in the layer of Him between you and the pillow. He throws the jacket out over the both of you now instead of wasting time looking for a spare blanket. 

You get comfortable on your mattress for a partner, legs getting a bit tangled up as the both of you cuddle up. He hears your breathing slow once more as you fall back asleep to the sound of his heartbeat going: Bump-bump. Bump-bump. 

He wonders when the moment would be interrupted by something needed in the fortress, but how could he care when you’re right here in his arms, once more sleeping happily and sleep was nipping at his own sea creature-themed socked heels. Even if something arose, the fortress could handle itself for as long as it took for him to take a very well-deserved nap...

Notes: fr need a nap tho. his chest is optional im just that tired.

[aangelinakii]

HALKIDIKI HOLIDAY.

— define "like."

summary : after going with damian and his family on holiday, pretending to be his girlfrienf no less, you realise pretty quickly that neither of you are pretending anymore. you've been simply friends for so long that it's difficult to cope with. it wouldn't make a difference if you just went back home, would it?

note : female reader !! apologies,, this was a request and they askef for a fem reader, but i have tons of other works with gender neutral readers :)

note 2 : i also hope it's okay that i changed some of the stuff because i decided to only write a certain chunk of the story, and i made it so they were friends before everything, so they aren't enemiez like you asked,, so sorry but i hope this is still okay !!

when your lifelong friend had offered you to go away with him and his family on a holiday to greece, you hadn't expected to be laying in your bed, staring out the window at the waves swishing in the darkness; what's more, you hadn't expected to have to pretend to date him.

you're not sure what the reason was, really.

maybe it was that damian felt out of place when dick asked bruce if he could bring along kory, his girlfriend, or when tim asked if bernard could come; this still left jason, duke, cassandra and steph without anybody. and it wasn't like bruce was bringing any love interests, either.

it was during lunch one day that damian sprung the question on you — "will you go to greece with me?"

it seemed quite forward at the time, but then after you asked your parents and whatnot, and came back to him the next day to say you could and that you were really excited, and to send you the details, you came to see really just how forward damian wayne could be.

his browny-green eyes stayed staring at his alfred-made sandwich as he unwrapped the cling-film, like he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as he said it. "and do you think you could pretend to be my girlfriend, too?"

at this point, your miso soup almost shot out your nose.

it had started off all fine, smiling and holding hands, but dropping them as soon as all eyes were off.

but after a week, sinking into him became all too easy; sitting on a terrace restaurant as the sun sank below the sea, and all you could look at was the way the oranges and pinks danced along his face. perhaps you should've looked at the sun.

each night you went back to your shared room, although bruce had forbade you from sharing a bed — much to both your relief — and talked long and deep into the night until one of you stopped responding, and only soft breathing followed, meaning it was time for the other to sleep.

before this trip, you'd been friends and that was that.

when he enrolled into gotham academy, you'd been eager to make a new friend, especially since he was such a loner at that time; strictly speaking, he still is quite, but you've forced him to open up his shell.

thinking about it, you didn't like him, of course you couldn't. you were friends and that's where the line ended.

eyes were supposed to wander when you splashed in the crystal greek waters with a cute guy your age, even more so when he tussled around with his brothers, muscles rippling with the waves.

it was just hormones, it didn't mean anything.

but now, the most you could see illuminating the world outside was the fragmented reflection of the white moon against the blackened ocean. the sheer curtains were pulled open, and the window had been pushed to, but not a breeze ran through the room.

you're not sure how long has passed since you and damian were talking after getting ready for bed, but one of you stopped speaking, and you were left here to rest, although your day played back in your mind.

that morning, your eyes had blinked open as the sun coming in through the curtains ebbed out of sight, something blocking its shine. standing before your bed — it would've been terrifying had you not been used to this for a week now — was one damian wayne, your boyfriend for this trip. his tan was dark, defining his features, the white t-shirt he wore a stark contrast, but making him look all the better; in one hand he had a ceramic bowl, santorini blue, with a spoon perched inside it.

"eat," he'd said, and you're sure you'd seen his jaw twitch, like he wish he'd been less brash but it was too late to go back.

after seeing dick take back kory a bowl of greek yoghurt, mountain honey and chopped peaches, damian had been doing it, too, though you weren't sure if it was because he wanted to or because he thought he was supposed to.

you weren't complaining anyhow.

biting your cheek to hold down a smile, you pushed yourself up, joints aching and cracking as you did so, and took the bowl from him.

this morning he'd added banana slices along with the usual peaches, but you weren't sure whether to comment on it — maybe he just hadn't been thinking; surely it hadn't been anything to do with wanting to give you a little more flavour and nutrients.

then, after eating, you'd changed into your swim stuff and joined the rest of everybody on the beach; maybe you were seeing things — heat does that to people — but, even in the water, damian seemed to straighten up and get a bit more rough playing around with dick and tim, like he was trying to be stronger than them or something.

it had to have been a mirage, your eyes playing tricks on you.

after dinner — another one of those terrace restaurants with the sunset and you can't even focus on your food — you and damian stood in the mirror, struggling to bite back smiles as you brushed your teeth. although your mouths hung either wide or clenched shut, the crescent of both eyes was impossible to miss, and the gap between your shoulders was practically non-existent.

and then once you'd got into bed, lights off, listening to the rest of the villa get ready to sleep, the two of you talked mindlessly, but you weren't getting any more tired.

recalling it now, it must've been damian who'd stopped talking first, letting your statement on how good your souvlaki had been that you would definitely be dreaming about it later hang loose into the darkness, and you'd stayed staring out the window since.

he had to be asleep by now.

shuffling in bed, you redirected your gaze to the bed at the wall opposite yours, where, although you couldn't see much of him, the outline of damian's shoulders shuddered with sleep.

if he were awake right now, sitting on the floor, leaning back against the bed frame, laughing with you like it didn't matter it was keeping jason and duke up next door, you'd be watching how his cheeks, kissed a rose by the sun during the day, plumped up with his smile.

oh, god...

never in your life had you counted the beauty spots on someone's face, or revelled in the mess of their hair after a shower.

never in your life had you memorised the lines on someone's hand, or laced up someone's shoes when they couldn't do it themselves.

you were just friends, you couldn't... you couldn't be.

suddenly, all the souvlaki you were sure to dream about gurgled in your stomach, and you were quick to sit up so it would all settle back down there. you couldn't have fallen in love so quickly, could you?

and, in the dead of night — the time when all decisions made little sense — there was only one thing left for you to do: leave.

being here for a week already, you knew the town stayed up deep into the night, and you could probably find a taxi to thessaloniki airport with the click of your fingers; the only problem being staying in a house of vigilantes, where any creak of a floorboard was bound to wake the whole villa up.

regardless, you decided you were going to take any chances, and you carefully pulled your feet out of the light covers, a light shiver running up your legs as your toes came into contact with the cold linoleum.

constantly checking over your shoulder to make sure damian was still facing the wall, snoozing away — though he certainly was rather quiet — you quietly approached your suitcase in the corner of the room.

knees clicking as you kneeled down, you, as silently as possible, unzipped it round, leaving it open so you could gather all your things.

"are you looking for something?"

a voice breaking the silence of the night, your body gave an immense jolt, sending a spring through your shoulders, and you spun around to find damian sitting up in his bed, eyes almost seeming to glow with the way the moonlight hit them.

"fuck, damian!" you whispered, heart still thumping like a rabbit's when you pressed a hand to your chest. "you scared the shit out of me."

damian reached over and clicked on the lamp, filling your shared room with an amber light, of which you could audibly hear whirring through its wire.

trying not to change your plan with him staring so intently you could feel holes drilling into the back of your head, you continued rummaging through your bag, stuffing a t-shirt you weren't even sure was yours in there.

"what are you doing?" damian's voice asked, soft but confused that it was evidently difficult to not be a little forward.

after a few breaths in and out, you turned around, rising fully to your feet, as self-conscious as it made you feel. "i can't stay here anymore, damian, i'm sorry."

in the dim light, you mistook a flash in his features; a furrow in his brow causing a crease in his forehead, the corner of his lip twitching.

"why not?" he asked first, then, after a few silent beats. "have i done something?"

your head began to move before your mouth did. "no, not at all, it's not that... i can't say."

now you really saw it — it wasn't just a trick of the dark — his mouth was tugging down in the corners, very alike to a frown. "why not?" he asked again. "please tell me. i can fix it."

"you can't, though, that's the thing." and you turned to look out the window, arms coming to fold over your chest. you were so close to the open window that you could hear the water sloshing even from here. "i'm going home."

another gap of silence.

"i think that's a bit dramatic," damian replied, but his voice wasn't harsh. "if anybody has made you feel uncomfortable, i can talk to them. anything you want."

a long breath brushed from your nose, and you began to step back to your bed. when you crawled back on top of the messed covers, you sat your back against the cool wall and drew your knees to your chest, hugging them close like it would save your from this illness they called love.

"i just don't fit in with your family here," you shrugged. it was easy to lie, but, with damian, difficult to make it believable.

"that's not true," he shot back without a beat. "bernard is having fun, tim told me. and kory is from an entirely different planet; their beaches probably rival our earth's, and i can tell she likes it here. we embrace both of them, so i know my family embraces you."

shaking your head uncertainly, you let out a shaky sigh. "what's there to embrace? we're lying to them, we're not actually dating."

with a quick glance his way, you saw the crease in damian's brow soften. no way he'd forgotten you weren't actually dating. surely not.

"you're right, we're not," was all he returned with. his hands had began to fidget with the linen bed sheet.

yet another empty song filled the room, a fluttering of eyelashes but gazes never meeting.

"can you turn the light off?" were the words you spoke when you finally broke the absence of sound. damian wasn't one to ignore your wishes.

once the room was bathed in black once again, you felt less vulnerable, less seen. damian couldn't see you — he knew you were there, but he couldn't see you. if he wanted to, he could reach out, get up from his bed and step over to find you, but even then he'd just be groping around in the darkness for a warm body that he'd never find.

with one deep breath, you spoke again.

"i'm not your girlfriend, but it's feeling too real. i think that's why i want to go home; because i hate the thought of lying to you or your family anymore."

"i know we're lying to my family, but how are you lying to me? we're just pretending." he didn't sound accusatory, just confused.

lips trembled, tremoring to stay together, aching to come apart and spill it all. when a big beast is fighting against you, it's difficult to hold it back.

"i'm beginning to think i'm seeing you in the way a real girlfriend would see her boyfriend. and i can't do it, i can't let that happen. it would ruin our friendship, ruin everything we spent years building. it would be easier for me to go back home and pretend like none of this ever happened."

with a blink, you turned back to damian's side of the room, only for the view to be obscured.

you craned your neck up, and, instead of perched in his bed still, damian wayne stood by your bedside, fingers still fidgeting, but now with the light linen trousers he'd bought from the merchant in town.

for a moment your heart stopped — would he slap you for being so stupid? shout at you? shove you? eat you? god, you hope not, that would be going a bit far.

when his arm flinched by his side, moving an inch, your body stilled, but it took a lot to not outwardly start.

carefully, slowly, he rose his arm, bringing a soft hand to your head.

first it was the tips of his fingers that made contact, like a watt of electricity jolting through your bones, starting at your hair follicles, and they brushed back sweetly along your scalp. once they'd done one full sweep, they pulled back and came back to where they'd started, doing the action again, softer.

"so be my real girlfriend."

not the answer you were expecting to that.

your forehead tightened as your eyebrows pulled together in a furrow. "what?" you couldn't help but blurt.

damian pulled back, the hand running itself through your hair finding his other hand and cracking the knuckles cathartically. "no more pretending. for either of us."

despite his words, you could practically feel the nerves radiating off him, a warmth that seemed to be embarrassed to be so warm. an uncertain kindness.

"you... what?" you stammered again, that ill feeling in your stomach beginning to subside finally.

and then he had the audacity to laugh — well, more of a chuckle, damian wasn't much of a laugher. but he turned on his heel and began to step towards the gap in the curtains. "i think you're amazing; i think you're intelligent, but really? i'm surprised you hadn't figured it out."

"figured what out?"

"what guy asks a girl to pretend to be his girlfriend on a vacation with his family? no sane guy, that's for sure." he gave a scoff directed at himself, and you could see a moonlit silhouette shake its head in self-deprication. "i don't know why i did it. i sort of regretted saying it when i did—"

then he quickly spun around. you couldn't see his expression, but you could guess alarm. "that's not me saying i regretted bringing you— i suppose i just realised afterwards that it was quite forward. i would have said no if i were you, but..."

"but here we are," you breathed, finishing the sentence for him.

"yeah..."

a new heavy cloud hung low, like a fog of confusion.

"so, you like me?" you finally asked, watching him in faint curiosity.

"i'm not sure 'like' is a strong enough word," damian replied with a chuckle, which ended in a gulp. he brought a hand up to scratch at the back of his head awkwardly. had he already ruined this? "are you still leaving?"

this was what he was most worried about.

but your lips only curled up.

"hell no."

[thewritetofreespeech]

hello. I read your bg3 marriage headcanons and was wondering if you could do a follow-up on what their first anniversary would be like? also add rolan, even though he wasn't in the original. only if you want to.

BG3 - 1st Anniversary Headcanons

[original ask in question X]

Gale

What does Gale ‘grand gestures are my love language’ Dekarios have planned for your first anniversary? Oh nothing special.

Just all your favorite meals cooked & ready for you. Starting with breakfast in bed. A small, light picnic at your favorite shoreline spot to watch the tides come in and enjoy the sea air. Ending with a romantic candlelight dinner that would put some of the finest Baldurian restaurants to shame.

He gives you a book of love poems as your present. Paper is traditional for the first anniversary after all. It is furthermore inscribed with his own, original poem on the front cover for you.

Astarion

He actually isn’t aware it’s your anniversary. Until he is reminded by someone. It’s not that it’s not important to him. Astarion has just never celebrated one before. How could he, when none of his previous lovers ever even stayed the whole night?

He has to work fast. But luckily Astarion is extremely clever and resourceful.

Playing it off like it was his plan all along to ‘pretend’ to forget, only for you to be further surprised is simply part of his plan. He plays it off so well that you believe him when he tells you that he got you a new necklace because ‘it reminded him of your eyes’. He makes a mental note to remember next year and be more genuine in his efforts.

A!Astarion

Of course, Astarion remembers the day you officially became his. Body, soul, and now legally.

Part of it may just be the celebration of having something that’s his. He hasn’t had anything for so long that he goes overboard. And with you, his most prized treasure, he can’t help it either.

The day, like all your days, is just about the two of you. He has a portrait commissioned for the two of you and commits to having one done every year, so you remember what you look like & how happy you are together. The old ones are kept in an archive below for safe keeping.

Wyll

He’s been looking forward to this day almost as much as getting married to you, the love of his life.

If he chose to stay in the Gate and become the new Grand Duke Ravengard, Wyll will host a ball so that you can celebrate with all those you hold dear. Old and new friends. He has the bard’s college compose a new song to commemorate the occasion, one that he can lead his partner out to the dance floor with and waltz them around all night.

If he went to Avernus to continue as the Blade, they will waltz together, alone, on the stoney rocks of the Hells. While Wyll hums a private tune between them to keep the music going.

Halsin

Halsin isn’t much for ceremonies or constructs of time. Nature and time move hand-in-hand with one another without making much note of their relationship, and he feels that they should do the same.

But…he can appreciate that something like this should be marked & remembered.

He will make time to get away from his duties as ‘Daddy Halsin’ to be a husband for a while; no matter how short it might be. He carves them a beautiful ornament. Something of a remembrance of their year to hang on a tree by their home. Halsin tells them that he hopes, one day, it will be filled with as many happy memories as leaves. The tree growing as with their love for years to come.

+Rolan

Who has time for such frivolities? Rolan has an acclaimed magic shop & literary archive to run, along with the magical commitments he has as the new caretaker of Ramazith's Tower. Surely, as his partner, they must understand that.

Lia gives him an extremely firm talking to about how selfish and narrow-minded he is being. That it’s not just about him anymore it’s about them.

Though Rolan will never admit that she’s right, he does make it up to his spouse. Apologizing to them for being so callous and making an effort to be more ‘traditionally romantic’. He presents them with a single white rose. Enchanted, so that it will never die, never wilt, and never fade. “It will always be as pure and radiant as my love for you. Should I forget to tell you every day, look upon it and remember. Though, I will try to remember to tell you everyday until my last ones.”

[fairszy]

# — oral ! 🕊️

how : alhaitham, wriothesley, cyno, diluc, + zhongli give head !

disclaimers : afab!reader + no specific pronouns. mentions of a skirt in cyno’s ! zhongli has dragon features ! mndi ! 18+ ONLY ! 🍓

#001 — ALHAITHAM !

his hands are gentle and delicate. like a wild animal he stares at its prey. alhaitham is fixed between your knees, watching your body as if it was some kind of experiment.

finally he stops staring, leaning right in close to your heat. again he stares but this time it’s not a careful study, no, he’s letting his mind run rampant with impure desires.

your grinding hips and needy whines fall upon deaf ears. alhaitham is not listening. slowly his tongue pokes out, gently using the tip of it to graze your clit. the gesture is so gentle it makes you shiver. he takes his time, slowly and calculated he devours you whole. ♡

— “i will take my time with you . . . just be patient, okay ?”

#002 — WRIOTHESLEY !

the duke is rough. every action he has is always full of greed. he can’t take his time, it might kill him if he does. so it’s no surprise he has you pressed against the closest wall.

it’s absolutely no surprise that inbetween ravenous kisses and clashing teeth, wriothesleys hands would be tugging your bottoms down past your knees. at this rate he didn’t care who saw you like this.

he will kiss his way down, leaving a plethora of bite marks and hickeys along the way. now you’re able to look down and see your adoring partner eagerly spreading your thighs and sucking happily on your clit, shooting you a cheeky wink in the process. ♡

— “i don’t care who sees, i want to see you break darling.”

#003 — CYNO !

it’s always the quiet ones you gotta look out for. the general mahamatra was more than skilled in keeping such a calm composure even when in a situation just like the one you’ve put him in.

you’re in the tavern, happily drinking and feasting with friends !! however no one knows that cyno’s hand has slowly creeped its way up the incredibly small skirt you decided to wear. for five minutes now his hand was rubbing lazy little circles when you needed him the most.

if there was one thing cyno was incredible at ? it’s eating you out into next week. the mahamatra was not only skilled in combat but also with his tongue. one by one more people started to leave. a perfect enough distraction for a very hard cyno to drag you to the restaurants bathroom to reward your patience. ♡

— “you did so well waiting for me . . . you’ll be compensated cumpletely . . get it because — sorry.”

#004 — DILUC !

he melts. it’s as if a lifetime of stress slides right off his shoulders when he’s in your presence. he takes his time, kissing from your lips right down to your inner thighs. fiery red eyes never leave your expression.

diluc is rather quiet during sex — unless he’s eating you out. diluc truly gets into what he’s doing to you. he prefers to do it in the morning the best.

occasionally he wakes you up by gently kissing your thighs all the way to the softness that is your folds. his eyes hood and his mind swims in an endless sea of lust as he slowly wakes you up with his gentle kitten licking. ♡

— “good morning firefly . . . allow me to finish here and then we’ll get breakfast, yes?”

#005 — ZHONGLI !

for a centuries old retired god zhongli is rather clueless in his ministrations. every way he touches you is like learning to read for the first time. gold eyes carefully watch and observe each and every gasp, whine, bite of the lip — you name it. he was watching.

the way you call out to him does a number on the god complex he tries so hard to deny. thanks to zhongli being an ancient dragon he also had a stunning tongue.

so here he has you in a field of glaze lilys, marking your body in light possessive geo markings you gasp at the all too familiar feeling of zhongli’s forked tongue working to gently flick against both sides of your clit. a satisfied hum leaves his mouth the more you scream and beg for release.

— “your body . . it belongs to me. your god. are we clear little lamb?”

[taetaerec]

Enhypen

Masterlist Rec 2:

Multi Members

brave it together | Bully!Jay x Strange!reader, Slightly Jake x reader

Closer | LegalLine x 8thMember!reader

DRIPPED IN YOU. | Boyfriend!Sunghoon x reader x Boyfriend!Jake

I would give up heaven if I had to.. | Stepbrother!Heeseung x reader x Stepbrother!Sunghoon

kang della's 18+ works | LegalLine x 8thMember!oc

paid in & paid off | Stepbrother!Jay x reader x StepbrothersBestfriend!Jake

Pent up | Idol!Hyungline x Cleaner!reader

rosebud | Stepdad!Jay x reader x BestfriendsBrother!Sunghoon

🔑secrets that you keep | Boyfriend!Sunghoon x reader x BoyfriendsBestfriend!Heeseung

strip for me. | Bully!Hyungline x reader

Stupid Games | Stepbrother!Heeseung x reader x BrothersBestfriend!Jungwon

take the back-seat. | Boyfriend!Jay x reader BoyfriendsBestfriend!Jake

The Hunt is On | Ghostface!Heeseung x reader x Ghostface!Sunghoon

The Pantheon: A Series | Gods!OT7 x reader

Toxic | Toxic!Hyungline x Bully!reader

two boyfriends dress them up like twins. | BasketballCaptain!Jungwon x Cheerleader!reader x BasketballCoCaptain!Sunghoon

No title | Ex!Jake x reader x BrothersEx!Virgin!Jungwon

Heeseung

be with her tonight | Yandere!Heeseung x reader

ㄴ CHERRY🍒 ㄱ | Pervert!Heeseung x Virgin!reader

Coffee & Cream | Homeless!Virgin!Heeseung x Virgin!reader

✧ Homecoming | Idol!Boyfriend!Heeseung x reader

— 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ? | Stepbrother!Heeseung x reader

PLAYER RANK: PLATINUM | SistersBoyfriend!Gamer!Heeseung x reader

VERBOTEN | DadsCoworker!Older!Heeseung x reader SMAU!

YOU'RE STILL A VIRGIN? | Roommate!Heeseung x Virgin!reader

Jay

A La Folie | King!Jay x Healer!reader

bless or curse | CEO!Jay x reader

dried flowers | Idol!Husband!Jay x reader

From This Moment On | Chaebol!Jay x Doctor!reader

Hold Me Without Hurting Me | CEO!ChildhoodBestfriend x CEO!reader

NATURALLY | Chef!Jay x reader

🍀no limits | Jay x reader

Priorities | Husband!Jay x reader

see you again. | Friend!Alpha!Jay x Omega!reader

SPACE BETWEEN US ➽ | Husband!Jay x Virgin!reader

stuck with me | smuggler!Jay x reader; Zombieapocalypse!Au

Training Wheels | Boyfriend!Jay x Inexperienced!reader

Undercover Lover | detective!rival!Jay x detective!reader

Jake

BIG D*CK FOR DUMMIES | Jake x Virgin!reader

EROTIC EMPATHY | Virgin!Jake x reader

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ FORBIDDEN ATTRACTION | Hufflepuff!Jake x reader

love on you | Idol!Boyfriend!Jake x Artist!reader

♠️off limits | BrothersBestfriend!Jake x reader

One-time thing | Girlfriend!reader x Boyfriend!Jake x ReadersBestfriend

past midnight ፤ [1:34 am] | Idol!Boyfriend!Jake x reader

SHAMELESS | Alpha!Jake x Omega!reader

silver spoons | OldMoney!Jake x Poor!ScholarshipGirl!reader

SIMS ANATOMY | neurosurgeon!Jake x cardio surgeon!Reader

Royal Sacrifice | Prince!Jake x Maid!reader

Sunghoon

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺Addictive ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺ | Toxic!Sunghoon x Toxic!Reader

⊹₊｡ꕤ˚ “all of you” ꕤ˚₊⊹ | Boyfriend!Sunghoon x reader

Favorite Flavor | BestfriendsDad!Sunghoon x reader

Here Comes The Fall-Out | Mafia!Sunghoon x Virgin!reader

I’ll pick you up | Idol!Sunghoon x Fan!reader

LITTLE BIT OF AFFECTION 박성훈 ᥫ᭡ | Manager!Sunghoon x Actress!reader

OKAY | Toxic!Sunghoon x reader

Sample Session | MedicalStudent!Sunghoon x MedicalStudent!reader

Stretch it Out | Instructor!Sunghoon x Ballerina!reader

strip for me. | Bully!Hyungline x reader

stupid in love | Bestfriend!Virgin!Sunghoon x Virgin!reader

𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐞, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 | nerd!inexperienced!Sunghoon x experienced!cheerleader!reader

Wicked Games | Yandere!Sunghoon x reader

you, me and our peeping tom. | Idol!Boyfriend!Jay x reader x Idol!Sunghoon

you need a man | Detective!Sunghoon x MafiasDaughter!reader

(No title) | Duke!Sunghoon x Duchess!reader, Bridgerton!au

(No title) | Stepbrother!Sunghoon x Virgin!reader

Sunoo

Only One For You | FoxHybrid!Sunoo x BunnyHybrid!reader

Jungwon

Cat Girls Chronicles 1 | Idol!Jungwon x CatHybrid!Reader

ꜜ : 𝑯𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒚 𝑷𝒊𝒍𝒍 | Idol!Jungwon x 8thMember!reader

one step at a time | Idol!Jungwon x reader

sea salt. | Pirate!Jungwon x princess!reader