#hmm maybe bane?

[bubblesxo]

okay, for my de-aged gotham!bruce au

what if there was a new rogue running around de-aging everyone who got in their way? the trigger to turn back is unknown and seemingly random. so after bruce is de-aged, some of his old rogues are de-aged too. since their MOs are a bit different because they're at a different point in their lives (it depends for each one when they're de-aged to) bruce is their main source of information on them, meaning that the batfam is basically forced to let bruce work with them to fight the de-aged rogues.

rogues i want to include (so far): the penguin, the riddler, (of course) the joker (i want to find a way to include jerome so so so bad but i don't know how exactly yet), not sure who else as to the rogues.

but i also want to de-age selina and alfred at some point. maybe someone hit the manor at a gala or something. they play that off as when bruce was hit so bruce can walk around gotham without the cops scrambling to find bruce wayne.

[floralcyanide]

𝟑𝟎,𝟎𝟎𝟎 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭 - 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐧𝐞𝐫

jackson rippner x f!reader

Usually, airports were the bane of your existence due to your career and the constant requirement to travel. But when you stumble upon a handsome man at the airport bar, your disdain for flying seems to change.

warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, public sex, mile-high shenanigans

word count: 2780

author’s note: not proofread again lulz but when do I ever?? anyway I got a request for this and had to write it right away because I love jackson sm omg. please lmk if you enjoyed and send some feedback <3

main masterlist | cillian murphy masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

You wouldn’t mind it if you didn’t have to step foot inside another airport for the rest of your life.

Unfortunately, your career requires you to travel every month, so your escape from airports will have to wait. You doubt there’s anything that will make your experiences with the liminal spaces any brighter or more profound- you doubt there’s anything that would make them even a smidge exciting. But, who knows, maybe one day you’ll eat your words. So, until then, you’ll fast-walk through airports and terminals with your carry-on with the deepest resting bitch face you can conjure up. And it appears that today will be yet another day that you muster up one.

Deciding to hit the best bar in the DFW airport during your routine TSA spiel, you weave around the other flyers in the corridors in a hurry. Even if your red eye flight has been delayed about two hours, you figure two hours in an airport could be better spent drinking. After scouring the entire airport numerous times on each trip you’ve taken from DFW, you finally settled upon a corner bar near your gate. After passing by it a few times, you decided to give it a chance. Its appearance is initially off-putting- it is dark and moody. Still, it had an oddly comfortable atmosphere and good drinks, obviously. You stroll up to the bar, smiling and nodding to the bartender you’ve come to know here. Going to sit in your usual booth, you discover there’s someone already seated there.

“If this were middle school, I’d tell you this is my spot,” you joke as you approach the man, whose face is covered by his long bangs.

A pair of sharp blue eyes glance up at you from their place on the cocktail menu in his large hands, and a sweet smile graces his lips when he looks you over, “I certainly apologize for stealing your spot. Care to join me? I can buy you a drink to make up for it.”

You give him a questioning look, half-joking with your tone, “What’s in it for me?”

“A free drink and your spot back,” the man says haughtily, a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Deal,” you reach a hand out for him to shake.

“Deal,” the man says, accepting your hand and shaking it firmly.

You slide into the booth, sizing the man up, “What’s your name?”

“Jackson,” the man says, his eyes nearly piercings into yours, “Jackson Rippner.”

“Oh,” you raise your eyebrows, suppressing a giggle, “your parents must hate you.”

Jackson laughs, shrugging, “Yeah, you could say that. But you can’t hate anyone if you’re dead.”

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry-”

“No need. Finished them off myself,” Jackson says, deadpanning.

You pause before laughing at his joke, “Gotcha.”

“So, what’s your drink of choice?” Jackson asks, changing the subject lightly.

“Hmm, I don’t think I’ll tell you just yet,” you let your eyes roam everywhere but Jackson’s face until you land your gaze back on him.

“You want me to guess, then?” Jackson asks, “I’m good at that, actually.”

“Oh, really? Prove it, then,” you say with a playful edge to your tone.

Jackson puckers his lips, furrowing his eyebrows in thought, “I’m thinking white liquor,” he trails off, “Maybe vodka, something fruity but not too skimpy.”

“You’re close, but not quite,” you bite your lip.

“I think you’re the type to have a classic no one considers.”

“Which is?”

“Dirty Shirley,” Jackson snaps his fingers, pointing at you confidently.

“Nope,” you say, grinning, “Just a vodka and Sprite for me.”

“Ah, but I was close.”

“Yes, you were very close,” you say, having the urge to flirt with this man you don’t even know.

“I’ll go grab that for you,” Jackson says, getting up out of the booth and heading to the bar.

While he’s gone, you rummage through your bag for a perfume roller, quickly rubbing some on your pulse points. Then, you unbutton the first two buttons of your blouse, revealing your cleavage just enough to be subtle. Turning around for a second, you see Jackson heading back to the booth, and you brush yourself off before slipping the perfume back into your bag.

“A vodka and Sprite for the pretty lady,” Jackson places your drink down in front of you before returning to his spot across from you.

“‘Pretty lady,’ huh?” you raise an eyebrow, taking the two black straws into your mouth.

“What can I say?” Jackson raises his hands in defense, “You are a pretty little thing. I’m glad I sat in your spot.”

“Oh,” you say, trying not to let your face heat up at the compliment, “Well, I’m glad too.”

The both of you silently sip your drinks after that, sharing fleeting glances while giggling. You decide to be cheeky, slipping off one of your heels and running your foot underneath Jackson’s pant leg. You nonchalantly look around the bar, chewing on your straw as if you weren’t up to anything. Jackson is staring right at you with a smirk as his eyes stare holes into your off-cast ones. 

“Feeling a little naughty, are we?” Jackson whispers, just loud enough to hear over the music.

You move your eyes toward him, “How do you mean?”

“I see,” Jackson looks down at the remainder of his second drink, “You wanna play like that, huh?”

“Play like what?” you challenge him, pushing your foot farther up his leg, now going over his pants and toward his thigh.

Jackson chuckles, about to say something, but he’s interrupted by the airport intercom. Your flight is a few minutes from boarding.

“Oh, that’s me,” you frown, downing the rest of your second vodka and Sprite before looking at Jackson, “What do I owe you?”

“For the drinks? Nothing,” Jackson licks his lips, “But for the teasing? We’ll have to see about that.”

“Oh really?” you ask, your heart rate now picking up at the obvious flirting.

“Really.”

“And what will you do about it?” you daringly ask.

“Well, we are on the same flight,” Jackson says, “So we’ll have to see.”

The two of you head over to the gate, getting in line to board. You boredly flip through a book your friend suggested for you to read on the flight. Jackson takes notice of this.

“Bookworm? Didn’t pick that up about you,” Jackson asks, rolling back and forth on his heels and toes. 

“Depends on the book,” you say, pursing your lips as you skim over the words, “Don’t think I’m a fan of this one, though.”

“That’s a shame. Any ideas of what you’re gonna do on the flight?” Jackson inquires, a flirty undertone in his question.

“Hmm,” you wonder, “Probably sleep. Unless I find something else to do.”

“Ah,” Jackson nods, “Hopefully, you will.”

“Hopefully,” you chuckle.

You and Jackson get separated during boarding, but you do a double-take when you arrive at your seat.

“Are you in the right seat?” you ask.

A familiar pair of striking eyes look up from a book to meet yours, “Did I steal your spot again?”

“No,” you shake your head, laughing, “I’m seat fifteen B.”

“And I’m fourteen B,” Jackson closes his book.

“Interesting,” you say, “Small world, huh?”

“Small indeed,” Jackson exhales, about to say something, until a lady a few rows down asks for help with her carry-on.

You move to the side, allowing Jackson to scoot by you. As he does, he puts a gentle hand on your waist, sending goosebumps up your spine. You watch as he helps the lady, and you try not to laugh when she tries flirting with him. Jackson returns to the row, moving past you again and plopping into his seat. 

“I know we talked for what, two hours? But I never asked, why are you headed to Miami? Work or play?” Jackson asks, buckling his seatbelt as the flight attendants announce preparation for take-off.

“Work, unfortunately. I take this trip often, red eye and everything,” you say, resting your head on the headrest behind you.

Jackson nods, “I’m here for work too. I hate flying, not going to lie.”

“Me too,” you grumble, “I hate everything about flying, including the airport and everything that comes with it.”

“Everything?” Jackson presses jokingly.

“Well, today was different. I actually had a nice time at the airport, especially since I got to meet you,” you say, keeping your eyes on the flight attendant as she goes over the safety precautions and flotation devices under the seats. 

“Good to know,” Jackson says, placing a hand on your knee.

You look at his hand, feeling very warm all over. The plane begins to speed up and ascend, and you relax in your seat, Jackson’s hand still on your knee. His nose is in his book as you try your best to read your friend’s book suggestion. When the plane finally reaches 30,000 feet, the seatbelt light turns off, and the lights dim. Flight attendants offer pillows and blankets, and you take a blanket, tucking your book away and covering yourself with the blanket. You’re on the verge of sleep when you feel Jackson’s hand slide up your thigh. You pretend you’re asleep, not moving or reacting to his touch. His hand is hidden by the blanket, so no one can see his hand move further up, dangerously close to your core. You’re wearing a dress, so there’s easy access. Not that you were complaining that Jackson was touching you. You were feeling him up earlier at the bar, so now it’s his turn. 

Jackson sneaks his hand back down your thigh and over your dress, slowly making his way over your hip and waist, up to your clothed breast. The blanket‘s hem was tucked behind your shoulders, covering up your entire body, so no one could see Jackson’s hand crawl underneath your dress again. This time, to squeeze at your breast. You try not to move or make a noise as Jackson takes your nipple between his fingers, pinching it lightly. Pretending as if he woke you up, you rouse and sit up straight.

“What are you doing?” you ask, acting as if you were asleep.

“I know you’ve been awake the whole time, sweetheart,” Jackson whispers.

“No, I wasn’t,” you say innocently.

“Don’t lie to me,” Jackson chastises, twisting your nipple harshly.

You bite your lip, muffling a moan. You squeeze your legs together as he continues to tweak the bud. 

“Is this what you want? Hmm? Teasing me earlier with your foot, I figured I’d play with you too.”

Jackson’s hand moves to your other breast, flicking your nipple. His other hand travels under your dress, his fingernails pressing into your skin. You bite your lip to stifle a moan from the sharp sensation on the sensitive skin of your thigh. His fingers ease to your core again, ghosting over your clit as you open your legs.

“Be quiet like a good girl,” Jackson says, eyes darting around to ensure no one is looking despite the lights being off.

You nod as he presses two fingers to your clit, rubbing slow, soft circles. Warmth gradually spreads in your lower belly at the sensation, and you widen your legs further. Jackson pulls his fingers away momentarily to slip them inside your underwear and continue his movements on your bare bundle of nerves. You cover your mouth, exhaling shakily at the stimulation. Jackson slips a finger inside you after playing with you for a while.

“Already so wet?” Jackson teases in your ear, his lips brushing against it.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath.

Jackson slowly pumps his finger in and out, eventually adding a second one. You shutter from the delightful stretch. You look around before subtly jerking your hips forward, riding his fingers.

“Fucking yourself on my fingers so good,” Jackson nibbles at your ear lobe, “Can’t imagine how you’d feel around my cock.”

You bite your knuckle to hold in a desperate whine at his words, “Please,” you whimper.

“Please, what?” Jackson asks, his fingers picking up the pace.

“Fuck me,” you whisper, “Take me to the bathroom and fuck me against the wall.”

“What a brazen little one you are,” Jackson grins, pulling his fingers from you and sucking your arousal off them, “It’s gonna take a little more than that, though.”

You groan at the loss of fullness, “Like what?”

“Beg.”

You pull Jackson’s hand back to your soaking slit, “Please touch me, fuck me, do anything you want to me. Please.”

“Keep going,” he pants, circling your clit with his fingers again.

“Jackson,” you sigh, “God, I need you inside of me. So bad,” you hiss.

“Go,” Jackson whispers, “I’ll meet you there.”

You hurry to pull down your dress, pulling the blanket off you before quietly walking to the bathroom. You check the vacancy before pulling the door open, leaving it unlocked for Jackson. You sit on the toilet, waiting patiently as your pulse thumps in your ears. A few moments pass, and the door opens slightly, revealing Jackson before he slips inside the bathroom. You stand up, but before you open your mouth to say something, he picks you up and presses you against the wall. You wrap your legs around Jackson’s waist, kissing him with a bruising force. Jackson slides his tongue through your lips and into your mouth, exploring it as his hands grip your ass. You reach a hand down and unzip and unbutton Jackson’s pants, your hand snaking past his underwear band and wrapping around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Jackson seethes, already hard from previous events in your seats earlier.

He pushes up the hem of your dress around your hips, pulling your underwear down far enough for him to slowly enter your throbbing core. Both of you gasp at the feeling, hours of pining hitting the climax. You thought Jackson was attractive the moment you laid eyes on him. You aren’t passing up the opportunity to join the mile-high club with such a gorgeous man. Jackson pushes further into you, and you relax more so he can press his hips into yours. Your fingers grasp at his hair as he pulls almost all the way out before thrusting back in. Your back roughly hits the wall behind you, but it wouldn’t be the last time. You have to hold onto the wall with one hand to not bang into it, your other hand holding onto Jackson’s hair for dear life as he fucks you without mercy. 

“God,” you say, the word drawn out as you and Jackson’s hips slam into each other. 

Jackson covers your mouth as you stare into his blue eyes, now darkened with lust, “Stay quiet.”

You nod, “Mhmm,” you hum from underneath his hand.

Your eyes stay on each other as you move your body forward in time with Jackson, his cock hitting that spot inside you perfectly, sending shockwaves over you. Jackson wraps an arm around your waist, holding you steady as his other hand moves between the two of you to rub tight figure 8’s on your bundle of nerves. You squeal, eyes rolling into the back of your head as Jackson continues to fuck into you like you’re a sex object. You feel yourself clenching around him as your orgasm creeps up. You pull on Jackson’s hair harshly, causing him to moan as his hips stutter. You do it again, and he has to bite your neck in order not to moan out loud. 

“Are you gonna cum?” Jackson grunts into your ear, “Huh?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “Fuck yes, I’m gonna cum.”

“Cum around my cock, pretty thing.”

Your release smacks you in the face, sending your body reeling as it nearly convulses against the lavatory wall. Jackson cums right after you as the feeling of your walls squeezing his cock sends him over the edge. You milk him for all he’s got, rutting your hips through both of your orgasms. You both catch your breath as Jackson lets your legs collapse back to the floor weakly. He holds you up as you regain your posture.

“I suddenly really like flying now,” you push your hair out of your sweaty face.

“Me too,” Jackson says with an expressionless face, which you match.

Suddenly, both of you burst out laughing but cover your mouths quickly before anyone can hear in the plane. After cleaning yourselves up, you both successfully sneak out of the bathroom and back to your seats, covering up with the blanket.

“Ever barhopped in Miami?” you ask Jackson, trying your best to hold your eyes open.

“Nope. You?’

“Nope. Want to?”

“Absolutely.”

taglist:

@baizzhu @aporiasposts @hjmalmed @queenshelby @amanda08319 @naty-1001 @orijanko @raineeace @nela-cutie @cutexlr

[yayll]

~ a little something about Dazai surprising you on your day off ~

Dazai's not by any means an early riser... That is unless he gets to see you that day.

It's 8 AM and he's tapping his fingers against his pant leg lightly, but he's actually really anxious and impatient. He’s waiting for you to open the front door and flash him that life changing smile of yours he’s been coveting for all week. Today’s your day off and he's decided to come over and spend the day with you so he can cherish every single moment, totally not because he’s slacking off work and wants to do the only other thing he does with his life other than avoid his responsibilities: Be the bane of your existence. You also have a nasty little habit of being a workaholic and he's here to break that once and for all. He's completely spaced out now, lips pursed and brows slightly furrowed in thought when suddenly—

You finally open the door. His angel, his everything. He immediately switches his whole demeanor, eyes twinkling as he scans your figure. You’re still in pajamas, and your hair looks messy. You look absolutely delectable for someone who just woke up to 3 missed calls and 10 texts. Dazai smirks as he leans in, wiggling his brows in an exaggerated manner.

"Well look who’s finally awake! What a sleepy little thing you are. Makes me jealous of that stupid bed of yours… Did you get my texts? Come here."

He looms over you in the middle of the doorway, kissing you softly, tenderly and hungrily.

You blink, and before you can catch your bearings you’re interrupted by the softness of his eager lips. If your mouth opens, he’s pouncing. After a few moments of uninterrupted bliss, you pull back, eyes still drowsy and breathing a bit shallow. You yawn, running your fingers through your bedhead.

“Sorry. I, um… was still asleep until now. I was trying to sleep in-”

He gasps, and tilts his head, as if baffled by this.

“Now why would you do that when we have plans today?”

“... We don’t, though?”

Dazai laughs, dismissing your rightful confusion. He knows you guys never discussed plans, he just doesn't care. He lightly pinches your nose in between his fingers.

“We do! It’s why I let you sleep in for a few extra hours before coming over.”

You lazily swat at him, crinkling your nose. He’s swooning! Dazai feels a jolt of electricity through his body upon seeing the way you respond to his doting. Making you flustered is his favorite entertainment, besides suicide of course.

“But it’s 8 AM.”

“Exactly! That’s like half the day."

"... How long have you been up for?”

He rolls his eyes affectionately as he buffs his knuckles on his tan coat, replying with a nonchalant hum.

“Hmm, not important— What’s for breakfast?”

He lets himself into your apartment and you sigh into a defeated smile that somehow still holds affection for this ridiculous man. You follow him as he strides to the kitchen and fold your arms across your chest.

“You know, I’m kinda grumpy right now. It’s too early, Osamu. I need my sleep."

“And might I say you look absolutely stunning when you’re grumpy? How ever did I get this lucky…”

“Keep it up and I’ll get even worse, you goofball.”

Dazai smiles, it’s sly and dangerous. A challenge, he hears? He pretends to think for a moment, his finger placed on his lips as if really contemplating something. He’s just picturing what you’d look like yelling at him. Heavenly, of course. He flashes you a tender smile as if you just said the most romantic thing and curls his arm around your waist, whispering.

“Ooh, then I can’t wait to see worse.~”

You roll your eyes, unable to help the pink hue spreading over your face. Maybe you're still half asleep, maybe you’re just hopelessly in love with him. Either way you’re screwed. You whine with a hint of annoyance.

“Osamuuuu…”

Oh how he loves when you say his name like that. Maybe it’s time for you two to skip breakfast, he already does anyway, but he knows you actually need nutrients to function. He replies in a singsong voice.

“Yeeesss?”

“I’m making pancakes and you are going to sit down and wait.”

You point at the kitchen counter trying to be stern, and of course, failing miserably.

He looks back at the stool and then back at you. He leans within inches of your face, his nose poking yours. He clicks his tongue disapprovingly and winks.

“No can do, cutie~”

You two spend the morning making breakfast, or at least trying to. YOU are trying to, anyway. Everytime you go to gather ingredients, he’s already handing them to you. When your back is turned to him, you feel his arms snaking around you as you flip pancakes unevenly due to the distracting trail of kisses he's leaving down your neck. You secretly smile to yourself whenever you’re not feigning irritation, you know he loves the banter… Why not indulge the poor man?

You serve two plates and sit down, along with two mugs of coffee. Dazai isn’t allowed to have caffeine around you, but once again, you took pity on him today for some reason… or is it his mystifying persuasion manipulation at play here? He takes a sip of his mug and a satisfying ‘Ahh’ releases soon after. He flickers his eyes towards you as you're about to sip yours as well, and it’s like the world stops. His pupils dilate and he watches intently as the rim reaches your lips, resting his chin on his palm as he leans lazily over the counter. He’s like a dog watching its owner adoringly. During his trance-like state, he thinks about how if you lived together this would be his every day routine. He could get used to watching you drink coffee and eat food. You'd wake up next to each other and hold hands as you watch the sun rise. He would tell you how breathtaking you look with bedhead and make you late for work after failing to keep his hands to himself. Maybe then you wouldn't think he's such an impenetrable wall of secrets. He wonders if there's a future where all of that happens... He snaps out of it, and murmurs.

“Can I have a taste?”

You perk up and look over, tilting your head to the side, amused.

“What, the coffee? You have your own.”

He’s so focused now, staring at your full lips, thinking of a proper answer. He wants to tell you that he's never had intimate moments like these with anyone else and he doesn’t know how long it’ll last before his luck with you runs out, that he’s afraid you’ll see right through his one dimensional facade and leave him for good. That you won’t follow him to his untimely demise should he ever fall, so he has to capture every second of it so he can keep you in his mind forever. He has to lock you up in his heart and throw away the key, otherwise becoming a man of virtue loses all its meaning.

Instead, he opts for the less complicated route, the corners of his lips curling up into a coy smile as he places a gentle hand on your thigh.

“No, your lips, dummy. I want to taste the coffee off of your lips.”

There are no words for the audacity of Osamu Dazai and the feelings thrashing inside you when he says things like that. You smile bashfully and look away, unable to accept his shameless flirting.

“You’re so weird, Osamu…”

“Mm, I'm so yours. No takesies backsies.~"

You slowly meet his gaze, his watchful eyes that ooze devotion practically holding yours hostage… God, you are so beautiful to him. Before you can even register it, Dazai scoops you up bridal style and carries you to the living room, laying you down on the soft couch. His eyes darken as he looks down at you, his fingers tracing the outline of your lips. As soon as you show him the look of love that gives him the consent he’s looking for, he doesn’t think twice about it. He grabs your chin and pulls you into a messy kiss. He kisses you rough, his tongue almost immediately sliding into your mouth as he moans into you. His moans turn into whimpers, like he's been starved of touch for far too long and you're satiating the hunger. He needs to taste the coffee you just drank, and he wants you to know exactly how much he's been aching for this moment. For your much needed day off. For you.

He keeps his hand at your chin, pressing you down deeper into the couch with his hips grinding against yours as he tastes the acidity of the coffee along with the honey you sweetened it with.

Finally, when you literally cannot breathe, you pull away with your dazed and blissed out expression, all red in the face just like he loves. You mumble in between pants.

“Wait— So... What exactly was the plan for today?”

He looks up from running his tongue along your jawline and flashes you that infamously deceptive smile he perpetually keeps on his face, tapping his index finger on your cheek. His voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

“Breakfast.”

“.. But we already had breakfast.”

He sighs deeply and his finger ghosts its way from your cheek down to the waistband of your pajama bottoms as he needily mumbles in your ear.

“Still hungry.. I’m a growing boy, you know.~”

You let out a breathless laugh, shaking your head.

"You're going to tire me, Osamu.. Work wears me out enough as is-"

He wiggles a finger at you, face full of sickening desire as he carefully lowers his head down by your stomach, resting his cheek on your soft flesh. He murmurs in that soft pleading way that drives you insane when he combos it with his reverent touch.

"Listen to me, please. No more work talk... No more stressing out your pretty self, okay? I haaaaate demanding jobs. It only takes you away from me."

You look down and simply nod, your eyes trained on the way he looks at you from under his lashes and the soft brown hair that frames his face. Your heart races with anticipation as a smile slowly creeps up onto your lips. You don't need words for what comes next.

For the rest of the day, he makes sure you have the best time off, it's the least he can do as your incredibly attentive and not selfish at all boyfriend! A day where you can shut out all thoughts of work... along with literally anything else that doesn't relate to him.

Unfortunately for you, there is no resting involved on said day. Fortunately for Dazai, you look so cute as you writhe under him for hours on end. That'll get it through your pretty little skull not to work so much.

[bittencandy]

ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔣

Summary: It's such a dumb thing to have a crush on Mammon, your awful boss and the bane of your existence. You just wanted a few days off from your job to get your head on straight again, but of course he'd have an issue with that.

What you weren't expecting was what happened next.

Warnings: 18+, mammon calls reader a 'bitch'. Toxic dynamic. Degradation. Reader has breasts and vagina but no fem pronouns used, described as wearing skirts. Oral (let's be honest, mammon is not a giver but let's indulge in the fantasy), overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

Notes: 11.2K words. Not proofread. Reader is down bad, Hellborn!reader. Mammon being an insufferable pervert.

It's astonishing, even to you, how you've managed to developed feelings for someone who might be the most obnoxious demon in Hell - a tall order to fulfill, but he does so with a concerning ease.

His arrogance is on steroids, he's lazy, selfish, and has the manners of a pig. And despite crafting his image and brand around an aesthetic that implies comedy, he has the wit and sense of humor of a stunted schoolboy.

He is royalty. Maybe you could blame his ego entirely on his status, but somehow that might be giving him too much credit. You're sure that if he lost everything in a snap, overthrown and reduced to the lowly rank of the very demons that he despises, that he'd still cling onto his pride and overconfidence. You couldn't pry it from his dead hands.

Worse than all of that though, is that he's also your boss. An overbearing, exhausting, respectless boss. He oversteps personal boundaries, pushes you past your limits, and treats you like a tool to be used rather than a living being.

At his beck and call, that's what you are. He isn't mindful of your personal time or if you're off the clock. Like this very morning when he had woken you up four hours before your alarm could do the job.

You had barely registered that you were even conscious as your hand blindly searched your bedside table for your phone. Functioning entirely off of muscle memory.

The sound of his ringtone had cut through the peaceful atmosphere with all the subtly of a gunshot. You tried to blink past the sting of sleep and the shock of the light pouring from the screen as you accepted the call with the swipe of your thumb. You hardly had time to lift the device to your ear before the rough pitch of his voice - which was way too cheery for 3 a.m. - spilt out from the speaker in an unbroken stream.

"Heyyo, how's my little assistant doing? Good, good. Listen, I've really been cravin' some Mexican - you know the place, right? Of course, you do! I don't pay you the big bucks for nothin'! So, I was thinking that you could go and get me some. Probably a coupla burritos, maybe - or . . . hmm . . . Ya know what, make sure to get the party box. And make sure they skim out on the hot sauce this time, yeah?"

The line had hung up with a click, leaving you to sit alone in silence that suddenly felt too quiet instead of peaceful. He hadn't let you get a single word in. The option to try and reject his order was cut off with an abrupt kind of casualness.

You didn't want to move from the warmth of your bed. You didn't want to get dressed and figure out the exact restaurant that he wanted, because it probably wasn't even open this late. And despite his assumptions, you didn't know just which one he was referring to with his vague instructions.

Your mouth was dry, your eyes were threatening to slip shut again, and the sun hadn't even begun to dawn in the horizon, but the even bigger punch to the gut was when a notification dropped down from the top of your phone's screen.

Ball and Chain

wood u do me a solid n pey for it :)

Its kinda expinsive n i don think i hve the money rn thx

All in all: a total piece of shit.

And yet, like an absolute push over you've managed to develop some weird sort of attraction to him. It's Stockholm Syndrome - forced proximity or something. At least that's the excuse you make for yourself. How else could you possibly explain it?

You've been told that you have bad taste in men before. You've heard it from your parents. Your friends. Even coworkers have voiced their confusion in your past flings and boyfriends.

You've dated your fair share of red flags. "Bad boys" if you want to be cliche. One was emotionally unavailable, one was a cheater, and the other an arsonist with a penchant for outbursts that often resulted in murderous rampages. But somehow Mammon makes them all seem normal. A true talent.

So you can't manage to figure out why the guy that makes you want to bash your head into a wall also makes something hideously saccharine and soft pulse in your chest each time you see him. Something that you've horrendously recognized as affection.

You can't track when his voice shifted from nails on a chalkboard to charming and pleasant. It's gravely, coarse, typically held in a jeering lilt. You've seen some flinch at the sound of it, the loud way that he often projects it causing many to roll their eyes or scoff, and yet, like a lab rat that's been trained, you find yourself hoping to hear it again.

Maybe it's his power. The control he wields as a Sin. The ability he has to kill most demons with the flick of his hand.

You've been at his side for years. You know all of his quirks. How he likes his frappuccino's with so much caramel that it's practically seventy-five percent of the drink. He has the windows on his limo tinted so that he doesn't have to see the poor; turning on one of those sensory videos is the only way to successfully get him to focus, and he can't really handle eating anything spicy. He'll practically bite your head off and accuse you of trying to kill him if any kind of hot ingredient makes it into his lunch, though he'll refuse to stop trying to eat it. Chewing and swallowing while he moans and groans past the pain.

He's a terrible person. A PR nightmare. A horrible boss. And somehow, he's got you wrapped around his finger.

It's more than a little pathetic. Any self-respecting demon would have left by now. Fizz has - and if anyone else could possibly have a spec of understanding on your situation, it would definitely be him. But he's left. Finally severed his ties with Mammon and saved himself before the Sin could properly chew him up and spit him out.

You do respect him in that aspect. A part of you lives through him, latching onto his act of defiance, his reclaiming of independence and imagines that you're the one who finally told Mammon to go fuck himself.

But you don't think that you could truly move on from him. That you could let go. Truthfully, you don't think that you want to.

You've spent too many years with him to leave now. At some point, somehow, you've grown fond of him. All of the hatred and irritation boiling and simmering down into a soft devotion.

You like him. You actually like him. It feels like a sort of betrayal to yourself, but the sting of it grows duller and duller with each passing day until you're sure that it will soon vanish entirely. Like a faded memory.

It makes it seem normal then that you've managed to grow protective of him. Some might say the word "possessive" is better suited, but it seems like an exaggeration to you.

There are many facets to your tasks as the King of Greed's personal assistant. One of them being his bodyguard - not that he technically needs it. He holds powers that most demons could only dream of wielding, but it doesn't keep you from fulfilling your task and sheltering him from the crazed fans that often attempt to swarm him.

You've delt with all of the demons parading themselves in front of him. Desperately throwing their bodies in his path to try and get his attention, with their tits and asses on display like the perfect depictions of desperation.

So, by all accounts, it shouldn't have struck a nerve in you to see him talking to her.

You weren't allowed into the court room. Only high-ranking demons are permitted during hearings of this caliber. Namely the Goetia Family and the Sins.

You were left alone in the lobby, sitting on some gaudy, velvet cushioned waiting chair while you waited. The room is always uncomfortably quiet. Almost hollow in a way, with its vaulted ceilings and spaced-out walls giving it an eerie resemblance to catacomb.

The almost rhythmic tapping of the receptionist's fingers sweeping along her computer's keys echoed from the stone and marble floors. It was annoying. Like a persistent bug circling outside of your ear.

But the irritating noise of the keyboard clicking muted down into a distant hum as all of your focus narrowed down onto the phone you held in your palm. You were tuned in to a live feed of the trial to make sure that he wouldn't make a complete ass of himself. Though the likelihood of that was dim, you still had hope. You were holding out that the fidget toys that you had given him beforehand would occupy him enough to keep his usual antics down to a minimum. But you weren't going to hold your breath, either.

It was a quick glimpse of it, the view on the both of them out of focus while they sat far off in the background. The focal point of the live video trained on some imp, kneeling and bound in chains as he stared forward, eyes wide and chaotic with fear and fury.

You couldn't see what had captured his attention. The scope of the camera fixed entirely on him but based on his expression you could gather that it was more than likely Satan. His judge and possible executioner.

Hearings like this surprisingly aren't extremely common in Hell. It isn't every day that all of the Sins - excluding Lucifer, of course - are brought together to deliver unholy judgement on a demon. All of the Rings were probably glued to their phones and TV screens to watch the trial, frothing at the mouth with the possibility of watching blood spill.

But you couldn't be bothered to pay that any mind. The imp became long forgotten; the obnoxious voice of the pale, avian Goetia strutting about the dim room and the deep timbre of Satan dulled into a muted hush as your focus narrowed down onto a single, fleeting interaction.

The camera barely picked up the audio. The sound of Mammon's voice coming out muffled despite the hearing taking place in a large, cavernous room. The grin on his face was a joyful one, the flash of his serrated teeth making the sinister edge of it even more sadistic in his obvious gloating.

It felt like ice was in your veins, streaking up your throat to choke you as he shuffled over from his end of the gallery, dragging his chair with him to plop himself at her side. Smiling wide, happy and practically vibrating in place before his expression shifted into something bordering on sleazy.

You couldn't help the way your talons sunk into the arm rest of your seat, claws sinking into the padding with dull pops! as you watched his gloved hand slip onto the face of the counter to walk his fingers over the worn wood as he spoke.

You didn't miss the soft smile her left head passed him, long lashes batting at him before she casted her other half a questioning look. As though she was gauging her other side's reaction to whatever he might have said to her. Like she was asking her other part permission.

Permission to do what?

That's the question that twisted in your stomach and coiled like something molten and nasty.

He was practically leering. Eyebrows raised while he grinned at Leviathan dumbly around some dick shaped popsicle. Never have you ever wanted to slap him so strongly before. Not in all of your years of working under him has he made you feel so angry but seeing them together made your blood a venom in your veins.

It was a brief little interaction, and in a split second it managed to dig under your skin like a splinter.

You aren't sure why their relationship cuts at something deep. The bonds that the Sins have with each other has been considered almost familial. Having been casted from Heaven, it's brought them close despite their all of their differences. It's a relationship that you know you don't have with him. You're just the grunt meant to pick up his morning coffee and schedule the meetings that he probably won't bother to show up for.

Why would he ever look at you? You're just another person who works for him. Someone below his rank.

You know it's stupid. Your little crush. And yet, you can't find it within yourself to try and tear it down, to pick it apart piece by piece until it crumbles and disappears. You aren't dignified for that apparently, so instead, you wallow.

It's been close to a week since the hearing, and you still haven't managed to snap yourself out of the headspace that it had all but shoved you into.

There's been a cloud over you ever since. Nasty and suffocating. You've tried ignoring it. Moving past it and simply focusing on your work like you always do, but it's stubborn. Sinking in deep and latching on like some sort of parasite.

Seeing Mammon everyday doesn't help. It's only invigorating the burning ache of jealousy that threatens to cripple your lungs and leave you choking each time you have to look at him.

It's a slap to the face each time. A not so gentle reminder of the way he had sought out her attention. It's rare to see him deliberately seek out someone. Sure he has his fans. It's no secret that he loves being in the spotlight, preening under the approval of thousands, eating it up light he's starved and it's the only thing that might save him.

But for him to invite himself into someone's space without the motive of something underhanded, which seems like a defiance against some sort of law in nature, is something that you never imagined seeing. It makes you sick your stomach that it wasn't for you.

You need a break. A moment to properly catch your breath and recollect yourself. To get a grip so that you don't slip and let your emotions get the best of you. The last thing you want to do is have a break down during work, possibly in public, and in front of Mammon no less.

It's why you're standing in the middle of his office, in front of his desk. Though calling it an office is being a bit generous, considering that he spends all of his time in it sitting on his ass, watching trash television from the flatscreen that he had posted on the wall across from his desk, ignoring the important phone calls and meetings and business updates that he should be approving.

Much like he's doing right at this moment. There are piles of paperwork and files that are stacked into columns on the face of his desk. Forgotten in favor of the food that he's shoveling down his mouth, cheeks bulging as he sits with his attention transfixed on the screen.

The urge to pick up his slack and sort through the documents is kneejerk, and you have to forcefully remind yourself that you're not here to do his job.

"Mammon, sir," you call.

He doesn't so much as flinch at the sound of your voice. He definitely didn't hear you. His vision hasn't strayed from the cheesy reality show playing. There's a glazed over look in his eyes that has irritation prickling along your skin.

"Mammon." You try again, but he's still miles away. Or his ignoring you. That's definitely a possibility. You repeat his name two more times. The control in your tone audibly slipping, turning thin and clipped. The irritation, the stress of your job, the jealousy still lurking underneath it all has your restrain fracturing.

You hardly register your body leaning over, one of your palms striking down on the desk with a pronounced crack that reverberates up your arm in a heavy ache. You're too distracted to fully notice the flash of pain, too caught up in your impatience.

Finally, he acknowledges you. His eyes shift from the TV and move onto you. But the glance that he gives is quick and lazy.

"What are you doin' here?" he asks, gracelessly cramming in another grab of chips past his teeth.

You have to suck in a deep breath to keep your temper in check. A slow inhale and the simmering heat building in your body dies down into a faint thrum. You clear your throat, pulling back from the desk to straighten your posture and you make a deliberate decision to ignore the bit of ketchup that's transferred onto your palm from his desk.

"I wanted to request some time off, sir," you answer. The words are like ash on your tongue, but you swallow the guilt down. You're allowed to make time for yourself. You're allowed to ask for this. "Not for long. Just a day or two to relax and get a few things in order. I've ran it by Juno already, and they've agreed to cover the days I'd be gone. It's a short amount of time and they have enough experience to be capable-"

"No."

You blink at the response. There's a finality to it despite the relaxed way it was delivered. You're not exactly surprised by his refusal, mostly disappointed. Still, it doesn't keep your annoyance and confusion from showing on your face.

"Can I ask why?"

He sighs like you're the problem. Rolling his eyes dramatically before speaking around his chewing. "I'm not payin' for your leave."

Cheap bastard.

"I don't need you to."

"It's still no."

"Why not?" You can't hide your exasperation now, your arms flaring out from your sides.

He doesn't answer, opting to silently drop the near empty bag of chips, and for a moment you fear that you've lost him again. The sound of his chewing is horrendous this close, and despite having worked for him for three years, it's a habit of his that you haven't entirely moved past. Even worse is that you somehow manage to find him attractive, like some kind of curse.

"Cause I need you here-" one of his lower hands raises to point a finger at you, almost performative like he's in a commercial- " taking care of business and keepin' this fucking machine runnin.' "

"That's what Juno is for." You can't help how slowly you enunciate the sentence, slipping it from your tongue carefully like he's slow.

He doesn't appear to be insulted. When he speaks your name, it's laced with an affection that you wish was real. But it's too sweat, too gentle to be authentic, and the truth of that is like a knife in the chest.

"You know no one else does it like you do. You're the only one that can almost keep up with me." His face is pinched in a sincerity that logic tells you is fake, but that foolish romantic in you delights in the sight of it. "You're the glue that keeps this place together. You handle all the borin', useless bullshit while I entertain the masses. It's what makes us work."

Us.

It's so tempting. So close to what you want, but it's not real. You have to force yourself to keep your head on straight and ignore the fluttering in your chest.

He sits up from his chair and rounds his desk to approach you; the bells on his fool's cap chime and jingle, growing louder in his approach. He's still wearing that patient, understanding expression. The sharp edges of his grin have softened into something gentle, and it's so easy to pretend that it's authentic.

It takes you by surprise when he doesn't stop, raising up a pair of hands to cradle your face in his palms. It's a manipulation tactic. You know it is. You've seen him do it to Fizzarolli in the past. Using embraces and tender touches to lull him into a false sense of security, and it pisses you off that he's doing it now. It pisses you off more that you're actually lured by it.

His hands are cool. You can feel it through the rich leather of his gloves; buttery and smooth, chilled by the natural cold of his skin. But it's soothing in a way that it shouldn't be.

"You've never asked for time off in all these years. Are you really gonna leave me now?" He frowns. He's pouting. "You know the rest of 'em are bloody useless. Couldn't find their asses with a fuckin' map. You can't leave me with them, it'll be a disaster."

You want to tell him that he's being dramatic. That it's only two days, but the words die out in your throat. His eyes have gone wide. Big and pitiful like a puppy that's been kicked. It's the image of dramatic. An exaggerated display of hurt and worry.

A stubborn streak of guilt shoots through you despite your basic reasoning. The voice of common sense flickering out for one moment before you're able to reign it back into place.

He's just manipulating you. He's too lazy to deal with his business himself and as good as Juno might be as a temporary stand-in, you doubt that they'll be able to balance all of his responsibilities and yours - even if it is for two days.

All of the assistants before you had either been fired or died. He's not an easy individual to work for. He's exhausting, particular, and petulant, but you have to trust that Juno will be able to handle it. For your own sanity, they have to.

"C'mon, sweet thing. Tell me what's wrong in that little brain of yours." His voice dips from the high tone that it's usually held in, lowering into something smooth and husky.

You don't know if you've ever heard it sound like this before, and it's like you've been doused in something liquid and simmering. A shiver trickles down your spine and settles in your toes.

He did that on purpose. He had to.

His eyes seem like they're burning. The bright chartreuse boring into you, cutting past your defenses and layers and rummaging around to strip you bare.

You have to stop this. You have to get back in control before this tail spins into something that you can't handle.

"It's just two days," you repeat, choking the words out like they're made of dust.

His fingers flex subtly. The points of his claws hidden by the leather daring to dig at your cheeks. His expression hardens, eyes narrowing. But it's the thrum that's tainted the atmosphere that truly lets you know that you're treading into dangerous territory. It's electric. Pulsing and wild and licking at your skin with the threat to sting.

"You're actin' pretty fucking selfish, ya know."

That's enough to snap you out your trance. You rip yourself out of his hands, backing away to create space so that you can think. Clarity drops over you like a bucket of frigid water, and the combination his static filling the air has your stomach flipping.

"I don't see how this is a big deal. It's not that big of a deal, you're just making it one for no reason."

In comparison to the other accusations and insults that Mammon has jabbed at you during your time with him, this is far from first place, but it's enough to tip you into an angry ramble. You can't seem to stop yourself now that it's started. Your mind and mouth slipping away from you and finally letting everything that you've been struggling to keep contained gushing from out in deluge.

"You're such an asshole. You're selfish, and stupid, and you have the table manners of toddler -" his mouth twists into a snarl, and if you were able to help it you'd shut up, but you can't - "you're a shitty person. You're a shitty boss.

I've skipped out on so much for you and this fucking job: birthdays, parties, sick days - I don't even get days off because you can't ever stop blowing up my phone with literally the dumbest requests. 'Can you go down to the mall and get me a pair of shoes.' 'Go to Gluttony to that donut shop.'

I can't believe I actually have feelings for you."

Time freezes. There's no air in your lungs. Your heart drops to your ass.

It all goes flat. There isn't any noise. For the first time in his life, Mammon has been left speechless. And you certainly can't make yourself speak. Your voice is gone. It's vanished and died.

You feel outside of yourself and hyperaware of your own limbs all at once. Your skin is too tight. The air is hot. You're suffocating.

And Mammon is staring. He looks just as shocked as you probably do, eyes wide and lips parted while he tries to process what's happened.

You're mortified. You want the floor to crack open and send you plummeting to your death. That would be a mercy, but the universe seems to revel in your misery because the ground under your feet remains intact. Leaving you to stand with ice in your veins and embarrassment smarting your cheeks.

You're waiting for the boisterous string of laughter to pierce the air. For him to double over while he cruelly mocks you for your little secret.

It doesn't come.

He spares you that much, but his teeth flash in the dull florescent light in a grin that's brutal. He's beaming. Smiling from ear to ear but the delight on his face is saturated with arrogance. Amused and cocky. Like you've stroked his ego in the best way possible and didn't even know it.

Somehow, this is worse than if he would have just laughed at you.

He's watching you like you're a piece of meat.

It's terrifying and thrilling all at once. You contemplate turning around and running out of his office. He can teleport, but if you're quick enough, maybe you'll at least be able to make it to a different floor. A few moments of life and peace without him watching you like he might pounce.

But your feet aren't working. There's a disconnect between your brain and legs and it has you rooted in place. Trapped in your body while the horror of everything sinks into every facet of you.

"So." He draws the word out, long and heavy, nearly singing it. He stands taller, emphasizing the way that he already looms over you. You think he could eat you whole. "Is that what all this is about? You've got yourself an itsy-bitsy little crush-"

"Don't."

It's a warning and a plea all at once. Your voice is somehow shaken and firm. You're trying to keep yourself together. Holding onto the tearing, terrified halves of yourself with a trembling resolve. It takes all of your strength to try and hold the chaos inside from showing on your face.

All the while, Mammon's grin hasn't wanned. If anything, he only appears even more entertained than before. He'll be riding this high for weeks.

"Aw, it's nothin' to be ashamed of," he purrs. His eyebrows perk up, and his smile becomes almost pervy. "I can't say I'm surprised. It is me-"

"Exactly. It's you." You wave a hand in a sort of 'no shit' sort of gesture.

His offence is shown plainly, his smile vanishing in a split second as he rocks back on his heels like he's been slapped. "The fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on, you aren't exactly the most respectable person. And that's putting lightly." You glare at him. Almost too tired and agitated to focus on your embarrassment. The absurdity of the entire situation making it easy to forget the anxiety thrumming beneath it all. "Did you already forget everything I've already said? That entire rant?"

His lips purse and his eyes squint in an exaggerated expression that you might have found funny in any other circumstance, but right now it's just annoying. He eyes flicker up to the ceiling for a moment, as though he'll find the answer that he's searching for in the texture and the water stains.

"Seriously?" you scoff.

"What? I'm a busy man, babes, I've got a lot on my mind."

You have to resist the urge to laugh. Swallowing the sound down before it could bubble free, but it still escapes in a thin, humorless chuckle. And you can't keep yourself from mumbling tiredly under your breath. "That's surprising you'd have anything going on in there."

"I fuckin' heard that, ya bitch." He snaps. The pulse of his static coursing through the air lets you know that you might be poking at him too much now. He's killed people for less, and yet you can't seem to keep your mouth shut.

"We're not getting anywhere doing this." You release a heavy sigh, trying to ground yourself. To soothe your nerves which are still going haywire. "It's just two days. And they'll go by so quick that it'll be like I wasn't even gone."

"If they'll go by quick, why do you even need to take 'em off?"

This is one of those moments where you could seriously bash your head into a wall. It's a tempting thought, to just turn around and swing your head into the plaster. If you were lucky enough, maybe it would knock you out and you'd finally get that break you want.

"You are such a frustrating dick. Why does it matter? You don't have any meetings scheduled in that time frame, no commercials to shoot, no venues to attend - Juno will probably end up taking on the paperwork that you do have. So you'll probably just be sitting on your ass at home, or out at some nightclub."

His anger is back. His eyes are narrow, burning in that toxic shade of green that feels like it burrowing beneath your skin. The hint of his power is charging in the air, thrumming and coiling, causing goose bumps to raise on your skin.

"Cause I fuckin' said so," he snarls. "I'm the boss here, yeah? What I say goes."

You want to argue. You want to throw something, to shout, to leave. But you don't do any of those things. You can't. You're worn out. Frustrated. All of the fight in you has fizzled out; water thrown over a fire, leaving it a damp, smoldering pile of dead embers.

This how he does it. He doesn't win arguments because he's in the right or because he's tactful in the statements he makes, it's because he knows how to ramble arrogant nonsense until you just grow too tired and fed up to continue.

"I think I know what all this fuss is about. You feelin' all out of sorts 'cause of your little crush?" He's smiling again. Teasing. Intentionally prodding at that chip in your armor.

You're typically indifferent to his vulgarity and taunting. The most emotion that he garners from you is usually irritation or anger, and despite him being a Sin that could easily cut your life short, you've never been shy about insulting him back. It's easily one of the most frustrating aspects about the way you interact with each other. You both drive each other up a wall. It's a surprise that he hasn't killed you already or that you haven't emptied out your life savings to pay an assassin stupid and willing enough to try and murder him.

But his taunting is enough to have another wave of embarrassment crashing over you. You want to curl up on the floor and pass away on the spot.

He's like a shark that's smelt blood. Sinking his teeth into wounded flesh and latching on. Now that he's found a weakness to exploit, a thing to dangle over your head, he's going to be relentless. Cruelly twisting your arm with it to satisfy his own ego.

This is awful. You had to go and run your mouth. Had to let your feelings slip out. This might be worst case scenario for you. He's the last person in Hell that you'd ever want to have this information.

There's a relief alongside the pain though, but it isn't pleasant or cathartic. It's like releasing a muscle that's been flexed for too long. Pain rippling alongside the alleviation, the stress of it too much to bask in the repose.

"Forget I said that." You don't bother hiding your glare. Mostly for your own sake. In some last effort scramble to at least trick yourself into feeling braver than you truly are. But that twisted, self-satisfied grin on his face snuffs every bit of wavering confidence that you clung to.

"Are you kidding? I'm gonna be thinkin' about this moment for years." The bells on his costume jingle as his body shimmies, like he's trying to contain his excitement and failing. "You're always walking around here like you're all high and fuckin' mighty, meanwhile you've been creamin' in your panties every time you see me."

You wince, rolling your eyes. "Ugh, don't be gross."

"It's understandable. I have that effect on most people." He continues, unaffected by the angry glower you've pinned him with. "I was after all, named the most desired bachelor in Hell."

"First of all, you threatened them into posting you that high in the ranking, and the internet blew up for months afterwards because hardly anyone agreed with it."

"Whatever," he huffs. Petulant and childish. But just as quickly he's rocking back into that jeering, jovial disposition. He's shifts closer to you, eating up what little bit of space you had created between your bodies while you were panicking. "But it does make me wonder just how long you've been sittin' on your secret."

He creeps up with a fluidity that he shouldn't possess. A rhythmic insectile hiss trills through the air, juxtaposed by the cheerful jingle of his bells, and it makes him seem almost sinister.

It has your heart thumping wildly in your chest, and the luminous glint of his eyes pinning you down does nothing to help. It makes you feel like prey. Caught under his focus with nowhere to run. Feet stuck to the floor.

You hate how heat floods you, simmering under your skin, making your breath catch in your throat. You're trapped. Your attention stuck entirely on him as his body presses close to yours, and you can only hope that you've successfully forced an unbothered look on your face. That you seem unaffected from the chill and weight of him on your heated flesh while your mind stirs into a whirlwind.

You have to tilt your head back just to keep your vision locked with his as he looms over you, and it's only then that your brain fully registers his previous musing.

"Just let it go." You try to move away from him, rocking back on your feet, but a pair of his hands lash out in a blur to grip your shoulders. He's got you locked in place.

"Aw, don' be like that." He grabs ahold of your chin when you attempt to look away from him, turning your head back over to keep your focus on him. "So what's it been? A coupla months? One year? Two? I bet the entire time you've been acting all huffy, you were really just all pent up."

You'd rather die than admit to him that you've been sitting on these feelings for more than half of the time you've known him. How you had practically gone through the five stages of grief after realizing that fluttering that he inspired in your stomach wasn't from repulsion but from affection. How you've spent countless nights staring up the ceiling above your bed, hating yourself and wondering why him.

Your friends have all listened to your confused, defeated rambling when you've had one too many drinks. They do their best to be supportive and offer comfort, but you never miss the disappointed glances they pass each other when they think that you aren't aware. Looks that say, "Really? Why him? " As though you don't already know.

You've fought yourself over it a thousand times. Berating yourself and trying to talk sense into your own brain, doing your best to smother feelings that shouldn't exist at all, but they're always there, lurking just beneath the surface. Hungry and persistent, a lonely, longing dog scratching at the door to escape the cold.

"Poor thing. Must've been torture." He pinches your cheeks. The tone he uses, all low and laced with a gauche type of sympathy is all with the aim to ridicule you, and like the traitor it is your body flushes with heat.

Your thighs squeeze on their own, seeking out a friction that isn't really there, and the lack of relief nearly makes you moan in frustration. Thankfully you have half the mind to swallow the sound down before it could leave you, but you must give something away because the smile on his face grows even wider.

"I'd be happy to help you with your little problem. "

If you didn't know any better, you'd say that you were dead. Passed on and gone off . . . somewhere. Another hell maybe, or a different dimension entirely where nothing makes any sense.

You blink dumbly, lips parting while you struggle to process his what he's said. For a moment, you think that you've misheard him, but the words haven't stopped echoing in your head.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Your voice is slow. Careful to make sure that your tongue doesn't snag it in your mouth.

"Let's just cut the bullshit." He says it all matter-of-factly, like he's about to deliver some longwinded sales pitch. "It's not like I haven't noticed. You've been all strung out lately like you've got a broom shoved far up your ass. It's made you even more of a fuckin' drag to be around than usual -" and then, as though it adds less insult to the injury "- and you aren't bad on the eyes."

You lurch back from him, ripping yourself from his grip for the second time tonight. You can't tell if you want to laugh or cry or shout. The sting of how casual he's acting, the lack of tact lashes through you like a whip.

"Is this your idea of seducing me?" Now you're fully looking at the man that you've always regretted liking. The one that made things impossible. Or maybe this is just the reality. This is him as he truly is. The truth that you've struggled to grapple with. That no matter how much you've always wanted to believe otherwise, you'd never be special or appreciated.

"Is it working?" For a moment he almost sounds uncertain. At least that's what you'd like to believe, but the stare he's giving you is sleazy. Dripping with perversion and dumb hubris.

He must see your disappointment because you don't even get a chance to turn around to leave before he's reaching out. "Alright, alright, damn, just listen." He grumbles under his breath. " No sense of humor."

You have to roll your eyes.

"There isn't any reason to runnin' away all pissed off."

"You literally just insulted me. Not to mention, you're my boss. I'm pretty sure propositioning me for sex is breaking some sort of HR violation."

"Since when do we have fucking HR?"

"We don't," you admit with a sigh.

He seems to relax a little bit. Shoulders sagging once he realizes that you aren't making an attempt to leave again. He's wearing that pleased expression again. The one that makes you want to kiss and slap him. "Be honest with yourself; can you actually say that you've never thought of me before? When you're all alone at night with your hand shoved down between your-"

"Does it matter if I have?" Your mouth snaps shut swiftly. It wasn't an admission outright, but it might as well be, boarding close to something that you're determined to keep unsaid. But the damage is already done. He's somehow even more smug; bright eyes burning like he wants to consume you.

"Would it matter if I told you that I've had my hand wrapped around my dick while I thought about fucking you?"

You could combust on the spot. All of the breath has been forcefully snatched from your lungs, like fire eating up all of the air in a room, leaving you empty and burning. You try to center yourself, focusing on the texture of the clothes draped on your skin, trying to listen to the steady stream of audio pouring from the flatscreen, but it sounds miles away; glancing past the height of Mammon's shoulder and through the commercial window to focus on the toxic city skyline.

None of it does you any good.

You feel like you're floating away and stuck all at once, cemented in your own body.

It's a reflex to try and give him some sort of quip in return. Some scratching, humorous remark to try and level the playing field, but you've been reduced speechless.

The thought of him like that flickers across your mind in terrible, tantalizing visions. You hate how your mouth floods with saliva while you picture him fisting his cock. Squeezing it in feverous strokes, the tip leaking for him to collect in his palm, using it to smear over his girth to aid him in fucking his fist.

He'd be big. He'd have to be with how massive he is, scaling over most demons easily.

He'd sound so pretty panting. That graveled edge to his voice turning thin and rumbling while he works himself closer to release.

What would he sound like moaning your name? How many times has he done just that, fucking his own hand with the fantasy of you on his tongue?

It snaps you out from your daze like you've been struck. You can hardly remember how you've gotten here in this moment. The events of the day, the stress, your jealousy, it all seems so murky and distorted, a kaleidoscopic blur.

"I've done it right here in this office." He's slithering around you again, circling you like a serpent coiling its prey.

The confinement of the room is no longer just disorienting and tight, but it feels dirty. The revelation of his perverted fantasies scorching you from the inside out. You can feel his static again, humming and twisting along your limbs, thrashing up your spine in a way that makes you shiver, that has a heavy ache throbbing between your legs.

You've been in this office more times than you can count. Stood at the front of his desk to berate him for ignoring mountains of paperwork and the scandals that he's always determined to get into. Never has it crossed your mind that he's been in here fucking his fist to the thought of you.

It's pathetic how easily it soothes the jealousy that's been haunting you, ebbing the pain away like cream on a burn scar. Ice freezing over something acidic and smoldering.

"You're always wearin' those tight little skirts. Wearing those tops that squeeze your tits just right. Doesn't leave much to the imagination, babe."

You think of all the leering looks he's given you in the past, the quick once overs that you had chalked up to him just being obnoxious. You never gave them any merit. He's known for his perverted tendencies that never really have any true desire behind them, often flirting with people, seemingly just with the goal of being a sleaze. Picking out the wealthiest demon at an even or party in the hopes of hustling some free drinks or meals out of them, but that's typically as far as the flirtation goes.

The individual that had ever truly seemed to capture his attention is Leviathan, with him always seeking her out whenever the Sins are summoned together. Gravitating towards her like a moth to fire. Crawling to her side like a dog begging for scraps.

The reminder is bitter. Sharp and acrid in your mouth. And in an unwelcome rush, you're brought back to reality. Jealousy seeping back into your bones like a poisonous ooze.

"Don't you have Leviathan to go try to flirt with?" you snap.

He blinks like you've struck him, but the chuckle that leaves him is delighted. "Are you jealous?"

You don't answer. You can't. But your silence is confirmation enough.

If the revelation of your crush was going to make him a walking nightmare, then the unveiling that you're strung out enough to actually see Leviathan as some sort of rival is going to have his ego hurtling past the sky.

You can already see the effect of it, how he stands a little straighter, puffing out his chest with a smile that's dopey and complacent. He's eating this up like the attention whore that he is.

"You are." His eyes are ablaze with his delight before darkening. Turning into fervid, luminous pools that has your body thrumming. "I can make you forget about all of that. What do ya say, huh?"

No. It's right there balanced on the tip of your tongue, and yet you're hesitating. It's a simple response. One that would have this conversation ending. You could sweep it under the rug as best as you could, go back to your clear-cut employee and boss relationship - even though you're sure that Mammon would always make sure to remind you of this entire mess. But you could keep your head up and push through it. You know that you could.

And yet . . . You're not sure you want to. Maybe it's wrong - pitiful even, that for the first time in days the anger and bitterness that's been trailing you like a shadow has finally shrunk back. Warded off by his admittance that he's fantasized about you just as much as you have about him.

You should try to remain professional, but it's difficult to ignore that this is bordering close to plenty of the perverted daydreams you've had about him. You've spent countless times bored at meetings or alone at home envisioning him bending you over his desk, rucking up your skirt and fucking you stupid. Taking you while all the other lackies and grunts work just outside the door to his office.

They'd all be able to hear. It would a public declaration. It appeased the sick part of you that you've been trying to ignore, and in your jealousy's absence all that remains is want.

You almost feel like another person when you step towards him, parting through all of your stubborn uncertainty and insecurity. You reach up to grip his cowl, seizing the fabric in a firm grip despite the slight tremor in your fingers.

He looks shocked when your tug him down by the material, the bells on his costume singing sharply in that metallic shudder. Something about his surprise is empowering. The thrill of having knocked him off kilter - as fleeting as it might be - shoots through you like a rush of adrenaline.

You can't keep the smile off of your face as you tug him down to your level; the scent of him clouding all around you with his proximity. An intoxicating surge of musk and ozone.

"I don't think you can make me forget."

His expression almost seems offended, eyes narrowing and mouth twisting until he registers that you're only teasing him. Intentionally goading him on in the aim to get a rise out of him.

His grin is almost mean, all teeth. Like he can't wait to rip into you. "Cheeky fucking bitch."

He snatches you up in blink. Fingers gripping your hips and shoulders like a vice as plumes of rushing, emerald smoke blinds your vision, stuffing your lungs, all bitter and acrid; small charges of lighting licking up your skin and bolting deliciously through your nerves.

It's a quick, dazing blur that has your head spinning and stomach flipping. In a split second your body is being forced over. A hand gripping the back of your head to shove it onto the chilled counter of what must be his desk. A cursory scan of the space confirms that you are still indeed in his office, with the audio from the flatscreen playing steadily while he keeps your face pressed against a folder of files that he's probably never evaluated.

"Should make you do all the work for that bloody snark." You can see his eyes glowing out of your peripheral vision, wide and crazed as a pair of his hands slip down the length of your body in a greedy path. Groping and stroking as they drift, settling only once he reaches the shape of your ass. "But I'll fuck you good this time. You're gonna owe me though."

This time?

You don't have time to contemplate or celebrate the insinuation because he's suddenly ripping your skirt free from your hips with a harsh jerk. Shredding the fabric in single motion.

A complaint is right there in your throat, but it's forced into a gasp when one of his palms strikes down onto your ass with a sharp smack, smarting skin underneath the strength of it.

He groans when it jiggles, smoothing his hand down the stinging skin like he's trying to soothe it but the way he scratches the points of his gloved talons down the bruising flesh is pitiless. It makes you hiss out, spine arching like your body can't decide if it wants to twist away or lean closer to the fire he leaves behind his claws.

"Mammon." You try to admonish him, but it lacks bite, wavering into a weak moan.

It goes ignored, two of his fingers prodding against your clothed pussy, grinding his knuckles against the fabric. It has the texture of your underwear brushing over your clit, too light to be truly fulfilling, but it still has your hips rocking to chase after the sensation.

He's barely touched you and it's already enough to have your eyes fluttering. And then he's removing his hand away, making the pleasure fade into a dull throb that has you mourning the press of his knuckles.

"Damn, you're fuckin' soaked." There's awe and lust in his voice, thick and heavy, blending with the rough nature of his voice and turning it ragged. "How long have you been sittin' like this, all wet and squirming?"

His words are muffled and slurred. It takes the sound of slurping for your sluggish brain to connect the dots. He's sucking on his fingers.

You strain your neck to look back at him, ignoring the ache in your neck to watch him as he shoves then deeper into his mouth. It's vulgar and shameless how he groans around their intrusion, drinking down the taste of you on his gloves, slipping and coiling the length of his striped tongue around his fingers.

You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, a low whimper leaving your lips.

"Feelin' desperate?" he snickers.

"Oh, shut u-" you yelp abruptly, hips jolting from the table making your pelvis lurch painfully against the lip of the desk as Mammon sadistically snatches ahold of your underwear and twists it up. Pulling the fabric taut and tugging until it's wedged between the lips of your cunt, nudging on your clit.

The sound that leaves you is tortured and rapturous all at once. A gutted noise that would leave you embarrassed if you were clear headed enough. You can hardly care about being humiliated while he's keeping that pressure on your pussy, keeping you spread open on the snug cotton.

Your thighs clench, rubbing in a reflective attempt to seek out more tension, but all it does is make you brutally aware of the slick already smearing down your skin.

"Should have known you'd be a slut." There's creaking behind you, the sound of bells jingling as he settles into his chair. It's only then that he lets up on the hold he has on your underwear, a reprieve and loss all at once. "What about it, sweet thing, gonna let me have a taste?"

Chilled breath brushes over your ass, soothing the burn that still throbs from the impact of his hand. It's enough to have your body relaxing with a sigh before you realize what he's said. His offer has your brain scrambling for a moment. Never would you have imagined that he'd ask to go down on you. You figured that he'd already be wrestling to your knees right now, demanding that you swallow down his cock and get him off - not the other way around. But there's no way you're going to turn him down.

"Please," you blurt. Your nails rake across the cherrywood counter, clawing in anticipation to feel the damp of his tongue over your heated flesh.

"Are you sure?" he teases with mock hesitation. "You don't sound like you want it all that bad."

"Yes, yes, please, Mammon," you crumble easily. Giving like sugar melting on heat. "I want it - I need you to touch me. I need you to fuck me."

"Well then, since you asked me so nicely." The condescension in his tone should insult you but it only makes you burn hotter. Nerves singing and smoldering like you've been doused in gasoline.

He tears your panties from you too. They pinch your skin before they give, but it's hard to focus on that while he shreds them from your hips, ripping them as though they're made from paper.

A surprised cry leaves you from the chilled lashing of his tongue laving over your cunt, crudely spreading your apart on the long appendaged. His mouth his cold, shocking on your hot cunt, zapping up your spine like ice.

A pair of his hands slip back down on your hips, turning ridged, fixing you in place when you squirm while he eats you from the back. Smothering himself in you with a passion that you wouldn't ever anticipated.

He groans heavily. A guttural, deep noise that has tremors dipping through your pussy. It has your brain nearly fogging over when the length of his prehensile tongue sweeps down to circle around your clit in teasing glides before it dips inside of you. Stroking down to work deep inside like he's trying to drink you.

Each curl and tug pulls a moan from you, pitchy and loud, growing higher. You aren't even fully aware of the increasing volume. How your cries are echoing off of the walls, no doubt slipping past the door where everyone else will be able to hear and easily piece together what's happening.

You know you're going to get looks when you leave the office. Employees lifting themselves up from their chairs, peeking over their worn cubicles to try and get a peek of you, staring in judgement and awe.

How you're going to leave his office is another thing entirely. The bastard ripped your skirt and underwear, but honestly that's a problem for the future. It's difficult to be bothered with troubles like that, to worry about the gossip that's probably already spreading around the building like a wildfire while your boss has his tongue inside of you.

They'll all be talking about you for weeks, but you'll wear it with pride.

His tongue is so deep, reaching a point that you didn't know was possible. Brushing over places like he's searching for something, and when the tick point of it strokes over that patch that makes your toes curl, he centers all of his focus on it. Lapping at that point like he means to take you apart piece by piece and leave you in pool of liquid muscle and bliss.

He's mean about it. Mouthing at your pussy like he's tempted to take a bite of you. Scraping a hint of his lethal teeth over your lips and clit, sending sparks and smoke flicker through your nerves.

The way he does it is sloppy. Almost amateur. Like he's not entirely sure what he's doing, but the enthusiasm he has, moaning and breathing into you, lapping and sucking like he's starved makes up for where he lacks.

You can hear how wet you are. You're dripping, spit and cum dripping down your inner thighs. The stiff hold he has on your hips has your spine stuck in a firm arch, but apparently it's not enough, because he's lifting you ass up high in the air. A sting darts down your back at he holds you up, positioning you until only your chest is held up by the desk.

Even with him hunched over on his chair, there's still a decent height imbalance. Your legs fling out on instinct, kicking out to try and balance yourself, but the sharp smack that he delivers to your ass has you going limp in his hands. He mumbles a complaint into your cunt, too enraptured to pull himself from you, but you think that you can make out something over the cloud stuffing your skull and the slurred nature of his words.

Something that sounds close to "quit fuckin' squirming."

He at least has the decency to snatch both of your legs and swing them to rest the front them on his shoulders, offering you a little bit more stability. It does little to ground you though. You feel like you're floating, even while your back stings and the clutch of his fingers on your hips is bruising.

He's relentless. Fucking his tongue into you like he wants to make a place for himself there. Like he's trying to leave his mark and stain you from the inside out.

You're panting. Strangled puffs of air wrangling from your lungs with every drag of his soaked tongue.

"This cunt's fuckin' filthy," he groans, just as ragged and desperate as you sound. "Such a slutty thing. Wan' you to soak me. Cum all over my face."

His drunken rambling has your every muscle in you drawing up tight. Pleasures licking up your spine, boiling in the base of your stomach, blurring behind your eyes. It rushes up on you in a blink. In a split second, it all goes white.

Your claws lash across the counter, slicing permanent divots through the wood as you try to keep yourself present through the ripples making your muscles writhe and jerk.

You suck in a skipping breath, straining to gulp down enough air to orient yourself through the heat. It keeps rolling through you. Making your limbs twitch and spine arch as he coasts you through the stretch of your orgasm with his tongue.

It doesn't take long for the bliss to melt into something bright and a little too keen. A whimper punches from your chest, a hand mindlessly slapping against the chilled counter as you try to wiggle out from underneath his mouth.

"Mammon, what-"

"Keep fucking still," he chides, stroking his finger over your clit in way that makes your nerves feel as though they've been dipped in lightning. "You're ruinin' my meal."

You swear sharply, mouth opening in a silent cry as he continues to lick at you and gulp you down. It's agony. Clear that he's not doing it for your pleasure, but his own. Getting some sort of sadistic enjoyment out of having you spread out and bent beneath him, tortured on his tongue. Swallowing you down in greedy gulps.

The weight of his static threatening to charge the air makes the overstimulation even more intense. It's fuzzy and shocking; your perception muting down into blurred edges. You're almost uncomfortably aware of your own being, the ache in your bones, the spit and cum staining your skin, the tender throb that pulses through your spasming pussy.

He's relentless and you can't manage to hardly breathe. Your panting leaves you in hiccupping, pitchy sounds that are no doubt bleeding past the door and echoing over the occupied cubicles in muffled cries. Everyone can hear you like this. It should be embarrassing, but all you feel is relief. There's pride swelling in your chest, because you're the one in here with him. Not Leviathan, not anyone else - you.

The alleviation of it pours down your spine like melted wax; embers biting at your fingertips and toes, smoldering thickly in the base of your abdomen.

He chuckles deeply, the smothered noise rippling through your cunt, wringing another set of tremors from you. It's a mindless movement when your hips rock back to fuck yourself on his tongue, eyes rolling as he dips it in deeper.

"Squeezin' on me tight," he slurs, slipping his tongue from your just long enough to mumble. "Want another one? Think you can handle it? Yeah, you're all fucked out already, needy lil' slut."

He pats your ass, all condescending rather than praising but it has you flushing with warmth. Turning hot and boneless as you chase after your high. You will yourself to nod your head, your cheek rubbing along the wood in agreement. That's not enough, apparently, because delivers a row of harsh smacks on the swell of your rump, making you squeal in surprise.

"Don't tell me I've fucked that dumb little head of yours empty already. Where are your manners, huh?" He slips two of his fingers in then, thrusting and crooking them to make you choke. He breathes in deeply, inhaling the scent of your pussy. It's crude and perverted. Your face prickles as the chill of his breath brushes over you, a stark contrast to your heated skin and it has you squirming. "Use your words and speak up. Don't be rude now."

"Yes. Yes, I want another one," you blurt in a near delirious surge. " I need it. " His name leaves you in a chant, like a broken record. Each utterance somehow more desperate than the last.

"Alright, damn, there's no need to beg." Everything is glazed over and hazy, and yet a flicker of irritation still manages to glint through the smoke at his snark. You can't dwell on it. And you definitely can't act on it with how he's working each thought from your head with every curl of his fingers.

When you cum again time distorts. Everything seems like it's been doused in syrup, turned sluggish and sweet. It's all been punched out of you until all you can do is sit and take it; struggling to hang on through the wet of his mouth, but he's got you stuck.

His hands are heavy, weighted things that keep you in place while your body tries to contort under his palms. At some point you've started babbling, but you can hardly hear through the roaring of your own ears to understand what you're even saying.

It's all a blur. A kaleidoscopic rush of electricity and pleasure, a weight that feels like liquid and warmth; injected into your veins to make your limbs fall heavy and useless.

He's kept you here for so long - or maybe it's only been minutes - fucked on his tongue and fingers while he takes you apart with a skill that you never expected to be possible for someone like him.

He doesn't stop either.

You aren't sure how many times he tips you over that bright edge, keeping you submerged and drowned beneath in a timeless flow. All you can tell is that you're gasping, keening through empty lungs while you seize up as his tongue forces out another violent high. It shudders through you in heavy tremors. Your cunt clenches tightly around his tongue, flexing and gushing, while the pleasure blends in with all the rest. Stretching out like something infinite. The effect of the endorphins filling your veins making you almost drunk, drooling while you moan out pathetic gasps.

All you can do is whine. Squirming under his hold when it becomes too much, ecstasy twining into something sharp and frayed. You've probably gone all stary-eyed.

He's so smug about it too. You can feel the shape of his wide smile pressing against your skin.

"Mammon, wait . . . give me a minute," you slur.

"What? Tappin' out already?"

You hum lowly, too worn to get yourself to properly speak again. Despite his chiding he eases off, slipping his tongue from you to finally let you breathe. You can't stop the pained groan that leaves you when he shifts your body, maneuvering you down from where he had you tightly suspended on his mouth, letting you sag back down on the desk like a broken, limp doll.

His hands are still firm. Stroking and squeezing at your sweat dampened skin like he can't get enough.

A part of you is still far off and drifted high in plumes of smoke. It's all fuzzy around the corners of your mind, sugar and static humming through your muscles. It makes you all lax and dopey, easily the most relaxed you've probably been in years. All of the stress and anger having been thoroughly wrung from you like water twisted from a cloth.

On some subconscious level you recognize him creeping closer, the electricity thrumming around him like a live wire prickling up your spine as he crouches over you. Hunching the shape of his body over yours like he's trying to cage you in.

"Don't quit on me now," he encourages in a mean coo. It's then you feel it. Something tepid and big pressing against the wet entrance of your pussy, cruelly nudging to smear it in the cum soaking your skin.

You can't help the way you whine. Gasping as you squirm underneath the press of it. It's not even inside of you yet and he feels massive. The thick head of his cock splitting your lips wide open to grind heavy circles on your clit.

Even with how many times he's made you cum there's still no way that you're going to be able to take him all in one go. It's a sobering thought, but the debauched ache that throbs through you at the thought of successfully taking him is undeniable. But you already feel so spread thin, worked out and left boneless; he's going to ruin you.

"Mammon, I - I don't know if I ca-"

"Of course you can," he assures in a rich baritone purr that coils in the pit of your stomach. His talons dig in deeper, like a beast with prey in its claws. "You can do it."

His voice is nearly sing-song. So light and relaxed for someone who's planning to tear you apart. He's already crushing you under his weight, dragging is cock over your clit in a delicious rhythm that already has your jaw dropping open. Hitching the head of it at your entrance, pressing forward enough to tease. It's not even in - not even close - and it already has you choking on air.

He was nice enough to give you what you wanted in the beginning. To prove a point that he could. This is all about him now, and he isn't going to leave anything left.

"Again, and again, and again."

You just don't know if you're going to make it out alive.

[thehollowwriter]

Summary: Slaving away in the bowels of Octavinelle as an anenome, Ace finds himself desperate to find a way out of his mess. Being put under the watch of a quiet Octavinelle second year thrusts an opportunity at Ace. Ace decides that, yes, Finn Clearcove would definitely be a help in this situation. It goes about as well as expected. (It does have a part 2, but I'll see how well this goes before rewriting that XD)

This is a rewrite of my first ever Finn fic, over a full year later. Please stick around to the end, I've got some special words for ya'll. (Here's the original, but pls don't look DON'T LOOK it's embarrassing/hj) Art for banner by @authoruio

Warnings: Swearing, forced labour, mentions of blood, that's about it Word count: 5239

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ❤️)

Anenome-Free Gaurauntee! (Hopefully)

Ace Trappola had fucked up. Now, this may seem unsurprising to most. Ace could never keep himself out of trouble. Whether it be running his mouth mouth or acting brashly, his actions often landed him in hot water.

This time, though, Ace had really fucked up.

The ghastly purple and blue anenome protruding from his head like some vile fungus was the bane of his existence. Not only did it look ridiculous and showcase his failures to anyone with a pair of eyes, but it turned him into a living puppet that bastard Azul could pull and contort as he pleased.

Ace was so confident when he made that contract. He never once thought he'd be kissing his freedom goodbye when he scrawled his signature onto that damning page.

Ugh, if only he'd known how many other poor souls had also made contracts and that he wouldn't have a chance. Maybe then he wouldn't be in this mess.

"Or maybe you wouldn't be in this mess if you didn't make a contract at all and asked Riddle for help or something." Yuu had said pointedly, and Ace could only groan in frustration and regret.

Now, Ace was standing in the VIP room in front of Azul's polished and tidy desk, wondering why he had been called here.

He didn't do anything wrong, did he? Floyd wasn't going to squeeze him again, was he? Oh no, anything but that, his ribs still hurt from last time-

"Don't look so terrified," Azul said, his smooth, suave voice laced with amusement. "You haven't done anything wrong. This time. But you're cutting it awfully close. I decided it would be best that I be generous and warn you that you're riding a fine line, Trappola. Your next punishment will be much harsher if you continue fighting against paying your dues. You're almost worse than the Savanaclaw anenomes."

There was a brief silence, and Ace quickly nodded, his gut tightening as he wondered what could possibly be even harsher than what was already dished out.

Azul checked his watch. "Your break ends soon. You best get going. But while I have you here, I'll let you know we're holding an event to commemorate the sports tournaments this weekend. Further details will be announced in time, but Floyd will be playing for the second year's, and Jade will be working front of house. You," Azul pointed at Ace with his cane. "Will be in the back because I can not have your abysmal attitude ruining the experience for the guests."

"Wait," Ace spluttered. "I have basketball games on the weekend too, I can't-"

"Your games are midmorning." Azul interrupted calmly. "You can work in the afternoons and evenings."

"But I'll be exhasuted-"

"Then you're lucky to be working in the kitchens and not running around for customers. Aren't I just so benevolent?" Azul's smile was stupidly smug as he spoke. "Of course, you will need someone watching you and the others while Jade and Floyd are absent. Hmm, I think Finn should be up to the task. He can keep you all in check."

"Who?" Ace blurted. Finn? Who was Finn? The name was vaguely familiar, but there were so many students in Night Raven that it could be anybody.

"Finn Clearcove. One of my second years."

As Ace eyed Azul wearily, that feeling of recognition sparked again.

Finn Clearcove. He'd heard that name before. When did-

Ah. Ace remembered now. When he and the others were helping Yuu and Grim investigate the strange freak accidents orchestrated by Savanaclaw, Finn was one of the students on their list of possible targets.

They found him in the library, reading silently in a dark corner. Ace almost couldn't believe that such a tiny, though definitely not light, guy was on their list at all. Sure, the dorm leader was small too, but he carried himself in a way that demanded respect and let you know he was powerful. This guy didn't give that vibe at all.

Their attempts at talking to Finn failed drastically as Finn's piercing eyes stared right through them, and he told them into to leave in a way that hinted at consequences if they did not listen.

Ace didn't really think about Finn after that. Finn wasn't scary, and he didn't do or say anything particularly striking, like the twins or Jack did.

Now, though, Ace's mind was running a mile a minute, trying to scrape up any other memories of Finn that may have been buried under other things weighing on his mind. Nothing.

What was Finn like? Was he as bad as the twins? Did he also relish in people's suffering? Did he play around with the emotions of others, too? ...Did he need a stepstool when getting stuff from a shelf?

Ace was drowning in these thoughts even as Azul ushered him out of the VIP room and back to work, forcing him to slave away under the watchful eyes of the twins until the skies turned dark.

Ace collapsed into bed, exhausted and woke up sluggish and filled with dread. Although he was confident in his skills, the damn anenome prevented him from practising when he wanted and left him tired and grumpy even when he did have time.

Unsurprisingly, this affected his gameplay. Cut to the aftermath of that morning's game and...they lost horribly. Sure, NRC lost a lot anyways, but even as Ace wiped sweat from his forehead and chugged down water, his heart was pounding in a mix of exertion and fury at the fact that the damn anenome made this loss worse than it ever could have been.

He made so many dumb mistakes. Mistakes a beginner would make! It pissed him off and embarrassed him to no end. And that wasn't even covering the fact that the stupid thing sticking out of his head was visible for all to see! They kept pointing and laughing at it!

Ace's mood was sour, and a storm cloud might as well have spawned above his head as he got changed and stomped to Mostro Lounge.

Somehow, Ace's heart managed to sink further when he saw just how many people were there. Not just students but families who came to watch the games. Parents, siblings, extended family, the whole place was packed to the brim.

When Ace arrived at the kitchen doors, Azul and Finn were already there, quietly conversing with each other.

Ace couldn't hear what they were saying, but he wouldn't have cared anyway because he was too busy biting back a snort at the sight of Finn. The guy was even smaller than Ace remembered, probably shorter than Epel.

Finn's face was set in a blank, unreadable expression as he quietly listened to what Azul was saying and occasionally murmured a reply. The conversation came to an end when Azul caught sight of Ace and that enraging smile spread onto his face.

"Ah, Ace, I see you're on time for once. Good." He said. "Finn, this is Ace Trappola. You'll need to keep an extra eye on him today and tomorrow, I'm afraid."

Finn nodded but didn't say anything in reply. He gazed silently at Ace with bright, light purple eyes that would make one think of an amethyst stone.

Ace met Finn's gaze and was suddenly overcome with such an overwhelming feeling of dread it startled him.

Azul must have noticed because he smirked and said, "I'm sure you'll behave, Ace." And left.

Ace didn't answer, still locked in some kind of weird staring contest with this tiny second year.

Finn suddenly turned and motioned for Ace to come inside the kitchens, where the other anenomes had already started working; preparing ingredients, cooking, washing dishes, and more.

Finn pulled a kitchen uniform from the small rack near the entrance and began putting it on, then pointed to where a Pomefiore student was frantically washing an ever growing pile of dishes consisting of both kitchen equipment and dishes from the Lounge itself.

"You're on dish duty, Mister Trappola." He said, and Ace realised this was the first time he'd ever heard him speak since the library encounter. His voice was so soft that Ace almost didn't hear it, but it was firm and commanding all the same. Sharp teeth just barely poked out from his lips. Was he like the twins?

Ace nodded and forced a smile, goosebumps rippling across the skin as he looked back at Finn. When he looked away to go and start on the dishes, the feeling of dread vanished.

Ace looked back at Finn. He caught his eyes, and while Finn gestured at him to get to work and feeling returned. Ace looked back to the dishes. The feeling vanished again.

Ace frowned. Weird.

"Get moving, Trappola!" Finn, well, it was too quiet to classify as a shout, so... called. He called, and Ace hurried to work.

Ace hated dish duty. There was always more than he could keep up with, but he didn't want anything to slip out of his hands and break, so he had to take it slower than he wanted. He was always hurried and run ragged, and then those damn twins would tell him he "missed a few spots" and make him do it all again.

Ace much preferred working front of the house, charming customers, and carrying drinks and food to and fro.

Well, at least he could see the rest of the kitchen from here since his station was at the back and out of the way. Ace found himself focusing on Finn.

For someone with such chubby fingers, Finn was nimble and efficient with knives. He wielded them with an ease and familiarity that only came from years of experience.

Though Finn was small and soft-spoken, the anenomes and other staff listened to him whenever he gave those quiet but firm commands.

Some anenomes were stubborn, but Finn's withering stare got them to shut right up. If they continued to resist, well, a harsh tug on the blue and purple monstrosities on their heads was enough pain to get them in line.

Ace wondered if he missed something because, sense of dread aside, Finn was pretty hard to take seriously with the way he strained his neck to look someone in the eyes and how he needed a step stool to grab anything a bit far off the ground and the way the buttons of his uniform seemed ready to snap right off with the way it strained against his middle.

When break came around, Ace was ready to bolt and embrace his brief moment of respite when he realised the room wasn't completely empty.

Finn remained alone in the kitchen and busied himself with making two cups of tea and a small snack.

"Pretty sure we aren't allowed to do that." Ace commented. "We have to bring our own stuff. Azul's gonna take that out of your pay, you know."

There was a long stretch of silence before Finn quietly said; "It's for Jade and Azul."

Ace furrowed his brows. "Why? Are you like their assistant or something?"

Finn didn't reply. Ace decided to take that as either a yes or a maybe. He watched Finn disappear into the VIP room, where he didn't come out until the very end of the break.

When Finn returned to start prepping for the next slew of orders, Ace found himself paying a little closer attention to him and his appearance.

Well, he didn't see anything new at first. Just the same details as before. Finn was very short, very chubby, and had curly green hair pulled back into a painfully tight bun. His eyes were like shining lilac amethyst gemstones, the colour only accentuated by the... dark circles under them.

Huh. Ace didn't notice that before. Now that he really looked, though, Finn looked really exhausted. He didn't really show it in his actions or voice, but it was prominent in his eyes.

"Work, Trappola." Finn hissed, and Ace nearly jumped out of skin. How had Finn noticed? Nevermind, he had to get to work before he got in trouble.

The rest of the night went by surpsingly quickly, the pace becoming calmer as the number of customers dwindled and the sky darkened.

At 9pm, Mostro Lounge closed its doors to customers. At 11pm, Ace was finally allowed to leave now that every bit of cutlery, crockery, and cooking utensils were cleaned and packed away, and the work surfaces and tables were wiped down, and the floor was swept and mopped until the place was sparkling clean.

Ace was the last anenome to leave, exhaustion from his game and full day of working slowing him down.

However, before he left, Ace paused at the doors when he realised Finn was still there, bringing tea to the VIP room.

"You do know that Azul's not gonna pay you overtime or give you special treatment for doing all that, right?" He called. "Your shift's over."

Finn stopped walking and glanced at Ace, his usually deadpan face crinkling to form an irritated expression. "We don't tolerate loitering, Mister Trappola. Leave."

Ace felt a sudden spike of pain at the base of his anenome and laughed nervously. "Hah, right. Yeah, I'll go. You keep doing... whatever you're trying to do." He said, backing away and out of the Lounge.

When he was out of sight, Ace heard the door to the VIP room open and close.

Just how long was Finn going to be in there this time? What was he doing in there? It didn't take an entire half-hour break to give someone tea.

...Well, going out of your way to make someone tea when you aren't obligated to is pretty nice.

Ace sighed. Poor Finn. If he wasn't an assistant or trying to gain something like Ace first thought, and instead acting out of the kindness of his heart or whatever, then the shortstack was in for a nasty surprise. Azul would take full advantage of someone like that.

The next day was Finn's second and last day of watching over Ace and the other anenomes. It passed by without incident, more or less the same as the previous one.

After Finn's time there ended, and things returned to normal, Ace found himself paying attention to his presence anytime he noticed him.

He wasn't too sure why. Maybe it was that sense of dread. It did pique Ace's curiosity. He's never experienced something like that. Maybe it was Finn's unusual dedication to the finely dressed tyrants that made Ace's life hell.

Whatever the reason, Ace's observations carried on enough for him to recognise Finn had a routine that repeated day in and day out, a routine that he rarely broke from.

Finn was always at the lounge early, before any of the other staff or anenomes arrived, either talking to Azul and the twins or beginning prep for the upcoming shift.

He worked quietly and efficiently at the bar, which seemed to be his usual workstation (how had Ace not noticed him before?), methodically mixing drinks and avoiding people's eyes. He rarely spoke aside from a passing word or two to customers and co-workers.

In his brief moments of respite, when he had nothing to make, Finn would close his eyes and listen to the live band always performing at Mostro Lounge, or gaze out the large glass wall into the sea of vibrant corals and fish with a tired, melancholy expression. Or at least, that's what Ace guessed it was, Finn's face still looked more or less the same as always.

When Finn's break came around, he would busy himself with making tea (the number of cups depended on if either of the twins were there or not), then disappear into the VIP room until his break ended.

And that wasn't all. Even when Finn didn't have a shift, Ace would occasionally spot him around. Most of his time would be spent in the VIP room if he did show up, unless there was a "client" seeing Azul.

When he left, sometimes his clothes would look just a bit ruffled, and other times, his face would look just a little pink. Weird.

Ace wouldn't dream of giving a fraction more of his time to those bastards outside of what he was forced to give. He couldn't imagine willingly going in there in his free time (that is, if Finn was willing at all), but it seemed Finn didn't stop there.

Sometimes, but very rarely, Ace would catch sight of Finn having lunch with Azul and the terror twins at the cafeteria. His plate would be piled high with food, and he'd quietly eat while the other three spoke.

Finn would join in from time to time, but he only really seemed to say a word or two. Sometimes, he'd even laugh. At least Ace assumed that's what it was, if Finn covering his mouth with his hand as his shoulders shook slightly and his eyes crinkled was anything to go by. Ace wondered what they were talking about.

It was... weird. Watching Finn. Ace couldn't for the life of him figure out if Finn was a secret addition to Octavinelle's infamous trio, or some poor soul somehow forced into the role of assistant or secretary and made to follow them around.

"Is Finn... always around those three?" Ace asked another Octavinelle student during his break, gazing at the firmly shut door to the VIP room. He wasn't a creep, he wasn't going around following Finn everywhere he went! He barely knew anything about him!

The third year he was talking to shrugged. "Not always. But Finn's been hovering around them since they arrived together in their first year. No idea what he could want with them, nor do I care.. He's a weird little creep that keeps to himself, and I'm happy with that as long as he doesn't come near me."

Ace glanced back at them to ask another question but stopped when he saw them holding their hand out expectantly.

Ace growled a curse word and dug through his pockets to slap a few madol in their hand. He didn't say anything, though. It was on him for asking something from an Octavinelle student. However, he didn't entirely regret it.

Finn Clearcove was definitely... close to Azul, Jade, and Floyd in some weird way. Ace wouldn't go so far as to say they're friends, but they weren't simply strangers or acquaintances either. Ace knew Azul would rather die than let just anyone enter the VIP room as they please. There were also a few occasions when Ace witnessed Finn sway Azul's opinion in one way or another or convince him to do something.

However, Ace swore he saw Finn with Azul's study guide once. He would have thought Finn was actually an anenome too, but the second year was very much lacking the presence of an anenome on his head.

The best guess Ace could venture was that Finn worked for those three, running around like a personal assistant making tea and everything, and being run so ragged he had eyebags.

Ace mulled over all he had learned, and then, well, an idea began to form. Would it work? He had absolutely no idea. Probably not. But it was worth a shot to get out of this hell.

Trying to convince Finn to help get rid of the anenome shouldn't end too badly... right?

***

After another gruelling half shifted at Mostro Lounge, Ace sacrificed the momentary relief that was his break to instead stop Finn before he could leave with his teatray to enter the VIP room.

Finn was busy fixing a pot of tea as always when Ace came into the kitchen.

"Hey, Finn!" Ace said, coming over to stand next to him. Finn didn't reply, simply busying himself with placing the teapot onto the silver serving tray with the teacups and their matching saucers and the milk and the sugar.

Ace frowned.

"Finn! Hello, I want to talk to you!"

Finn continued to ignore him. Ace reached out to tap his shoulder, but what whatever he was going to do or say next was interrupted by Finn suddenly grabbing his hand and wrenching it back before he could even react.

Finn clutched his wrist so tight it hurt. Ace yelped and tried to pull back, but the older boy's grasp was far stronger than expected.

Finn's eyes seemed to pierce right through him, and that horrible sense of dread came crashing down on him once more.

Ace paled. One of the reasons for Finn's placement on the list of Savanaclaw's potential targets sprang forth, finally clambering free from its place buried underneath other memories.

"He has a knack for spotting weakness."

"Mister Trappola," Finn said slowly. He didn't loosen his hold. His knuckles started turning white. "I'm busy. What do you want?"

"I, uh-" Ace swallowed before continuing, deciding his freedom was worth the shortstack's wrath. "I wanted to- to ask if you could do something for me."

Finn's expression didn't change, but there was a brief flicker of interest in those creepy, iridescent eyes. "If you want something, Azul-"

"No!" Ace snapped. Then he took a deep breath and continued again. "No. Stop with the Azul advertising! Please? I want a favour from you, Finn."

For a good few minutes, there was no reply. Ace would say Finn was in a state of disbelief, but it was impossible to tell.

Finally, Finn raised an eyebrow and looked Ace up and down, then said; "Is that so?" In a tone that almost made Ace take his words back. "Well, what do you want, then? I want to leave while the tea's still hot."

To emphasise his point, Finn gently tapped on the teapot with his pointer finger.

"Uh, right. So, you and Azul seem to hang around each other an awful lot. He must trust you quite a bit, right?" Ace said quickly, silently cursing at himself as every single word came out the entirely wrong way than intended. "Well, I mean, of course he must, you're always in that VIP roon of his and- and you've changed his mind about a few things more than once. That's quite impressive, right? A guy like him doesn't seem interested in what other people have to say, unless-"

"Get on with it, Trappola." Finn interrupted, his soft voice cutting clean through Ace's own much louder one somehow.

"Right, sorry. What I'm saying is, you and Azul have some weird situation going on, and I won't pretend to understand it at all, but I do understand enough to ask that perhaps you would have mercy on this poor freshman and convince the boss man to get rid of this anenome early..?"

Finn blinked at him, and for once, Ace could actually read his expression. Disbelief. 'Better than anger, I guess..?'

"You want me to... what?"

"Get rid of this anenome!" Ace repeated, a little louder. "I can't stand being a puppet! I want this damn thing off my head! Look, I'll even help you get out from under Azul's thumb yourself in return, just please get it off!"

Finn crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Ace, contemplating his words. Something... shifted in his eyes, though Ace couldn't really describe what it was.

On the inside, Finn wanted to laugh. He didn't know Ace all that well. Their interactions were few, and conversations, fewer. He didn't like Ace and didn't care to spend much more time around him than he needed to.

Now, though... now, he had an interesting opportunity presented to him, an opportunity in the form of an overworked and desperate freshman who did not seem to understand that the person he was talking to was not some sucker contorted to Azul's whims.

"Fine. I'll humour you. You want me to question my own housewarden for you, then? Me, not even the vice housewarden, asking Azul Ashengrotto to free a stubborn little first year from the terms of his own contract? The 'payment' you just offered me?" Finn made a noise that sounded far too much like a haughty scoff for Ace's liking. "That is bottom of the barrel scrap. For what you want me to do, I just might take your services for myself."

"I can do that!" Ace squawked, trying and failing not to sound as desperate as he felt. "As long as I'm not slaving away for that guy, I don't care!"

Finn regarded him with a bemused expression.

"And why would I want that?" He asked. "You slack off and put up a fight, Mister Trappola. Why would I agree to this when I could make the same deal with someone more obedient?"

"I- Well, I- I'll listen to you!'

Finn cocked his head to the side. "Can you prove it?"

"Yeah! If you just give me a chance, then I'll-"

"A trial period, then?" Finn asked, humming thoughtfully as Ace frantically nodded his head. "That's not a bad idea. How about this. I'll give you, ah, about a month. Do what I ask of you, and if you behave and meet my expectations, we'll negotiate further terms from there, and I'll see if I can convince Azul to release you. Deal?"

"D- wait. Do I have to do all that on top of my work as an anenome?"

Ah, so he wasn't that stupid, then. Finn hummed. "Yes. I won't be unreasonable, but you will be giving up more of your free time. Of course, whether it's something worth giving up is up to you."

Ace went quiet, quite an unusual thing for someone like him, as he pondered his options. Although Yuu was confident they could somehow find a way to get rid of the anenome, Ace wasn't too sure. He certainly couldn't get rid of it himself, and Jade and Floyd weren't going to help him unless a miracle happened.

The other anenomes and Octavinelle students didn't want to risk coming under fire, and his own dorm leader was a bit too enthusiastic at the idea of him suffering the consequences of his actions. The professors seemed uninterested in doing anything about Azul at all.

That just left... Finn. Ace could either A. Slave away until Azul completed his education at Night Raven, losing sleep and energy and the will to live, or B. Slave away while also doing things for Finn for one month, and if he impressed Finn enough then maybel he'd have a chance of losing his anenome and just doing stuff for Finn, who was quite notably not running an entire cafe, instead. Ace much preferred those odds, slim as they were.

Ace looked back at Finn, wincing at those piercing eyes, and nodded. "Deal."

There was a brief pause, and Ace became painfully aware of the fact that Finn still hadn't let him go.

"Uh-" Ace pulled, though it was futile against Finn's iron grip. "You can let me go now-"

Finn tightened his hold and pulled Ace down so they were eye level. "We're not leaving it at that, Mister Trappola." He hissed. "Hold still."

Ace couldn't bite down the shriek of surpise and mild pain that left him as Finn's free hand scratched at his skin with nails that seemed a little longer than they were before. A tiny droplet of blood bloomed on the surface of his skin, red against peach.

"Ow, what the hell-"

"Shut up." Finn growled. He swiped the droplet away with his pointer finger so that it stained his own skin. Then, he began to... well, Ace wasn't too sure what it was doing, but it looked like he was drawing a picture in the air.

Ace opened his mouth to ask Finn what the hell he was doing, but his mouth clicked shut as sparks of scarlet began to appear before his very eyes.

Ace watched in silent awe as Finn began to draw a circle of scarlet around the spot where he gripped Ace's wrist, then drew some weird symbols Ace couldn't recognise inside that circle

The pentragram-sigil-glyph-thing?- hovered like that, quivering. It made Ace feel a bit nauseous just looking at it.

Finn murmured something too quiet for Ace to hear, and the cursed circle thing pulsed, then disappeared.

"What..." Ace almost couldn't find his words for a moment. When Finn finally released his grip, the card soldier cradled his aching wrist . "What the hell was that?! That's no magic I've ever seen!"

"That," Finn said slowly, feeling the side of the teapot and frowning. "Is a binding. To ensure you keep your word. I don't make contracts like Azul."

"Is that some kind of second year spell I haven't heard about?" Ace's mouth was moving almost immediately. "Ugh, I knew my brother was hiding some cool kooky stuff from me-"

"No." Finn's curt response stopped Ace short and blinked at Finn.

"No?"

"No." Finn repeated. "You won't learn that here."

"Where did you learn that, then?"

Finn said nothing, and Ace, upon realising he wouldn't be getting a response, instead asked, "What does that do, exactly?"

"I just told you, it ensures you keep your word," Finn replied, tapping his pen against the teapot to reheat the now lukewarm water.

Ace furrowed his brows, tracing over the bruises Finn left on his poor wrist, red slowly turning purplish.

"What happens if... if I don't?"

Finn put his pen away and tilted his head at Ace. Then, he smiled. His teeth, still not fully visible to Ace, gleamed in the light. It was an... unnerving sight. Ace wasn't sure if he had ever seen Finn smile before. If this was his smiles really looked like then, well, he understood why.

"I don't think it'll come to that." Finn said softly. "But if it does... you'll be wishing you never spoke to me at all. Now, off you go. You've wasted enough of my time."

Ace hesitated for a moment, but the dull aching of his wrist was a good reminder to listen. He scrambled for the door, mumbling his goodbyes, and vanished into the fray of staff and customers beyond the kitchen.

He leaned against the wall in one of the furthest corners of the lounge, panting a little from his run. As he tried to calm down and tried to collect himself for the next shift that was bound to start soon, he wondered if he had perhaps made a mistake of some kind.

Unbeknownst to Ace, Azul Ashengrotto was leaning against the doors to the kitchen, smiling at Finn with that sharp smile only Azul was capable of.

"When I noticed you hadn't come, I didn't expect to find you terrorising poor Ace." He said without a hint of sympathy. "What a magnificent display, Finn. I didn't realise you finally got that binding spell right."

Finn laughed. "Hah, no. That's far too advanced for me. Papa's helped best he can, but I'm not quite there yet. Doesn't matter, though, Mister Trappola seems quite convinced it's real, and that's good enough for me. Besides, it wasn't all for show."

Finn held up the hand he'd been grasping Ace with, a large smile spreading onto his face and displaying all his teeth to his unflinching housewarden and... partner.

"I have a new voice now."

-End

...........................................

Super Special Author's Note: Over a year ago, on November 14th 2023, I wrote a story for my twst oc Finn. That's nothing too surprising, I like to write stories for my characters, after all. What did surprise me was how it all snowballed into where I am today, with so many wonderful moots and friends I never thought I'd meet, as well as their wonderful ocs I never thought I'd get to know.

It's been a pleasure to interact and draw and write with everybody, and I hope we're able to do all the more in the next coming year. Thank you everybody for caring so much about my skrunklies and getting to know me. You all mean so much to me.

Quinn <3

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @sillyslipperybananapeel @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

@skibidibabygirl @paperclvps @quartztwst @yuizenihaswriten @devosin

@yourlocalyin @sillyfull-jua

[imdeadinsidesiriuslydead]

Shut Up! | Bart Allen x villain!reader

Bart Allen x fem! Reader

Based off this imagine I made.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Warnings: Violence. Blood(tiny). Smutty! Just go ahead and read the imagine if you don’t want spoilers. Slight smut. Maybe I’ll write a part 2 with full on smut😏

notes: female reader. Villain reader. Villain name never mentioned. Race or appearance of reader never mentioned.

a/n: dude I was minding my business when this scenario popped into my head and now I just have to share it with the world. Enjoy!

———

Being chained up to a chair with his feet being bound together isn’t how Bart thought he’d spend his Friday night.

He wasn’t even supposed to be in Gotham. He protects Central City with Wally. Kinda. Wally doesn’t really like Bart as a sidekick. He was more of Max Mercury’s sidekick.

Max was probably worried out of his mind. He just really hoped Max wouldn’t show up or try to look for him, or else he’d find something he doesn’t need to know.

Bart has a secret. A secret crush on a certain Batman villain. Ever since he had to fight her with the young justice team, he was smitten.

His favorite pass time is running to Gotham city and foiling her plan before heading off to go hang out with Tim.

She would always catch him, she always did. And he would always let her. He loved it. A game of cat and mouse.

He loved watching her smile in victory as she caught him. He loved watching her integrate him. And he especially loved annoying her.

Like right now. He could vibrate his molecules and get out of the ropes, but what’s the fun in that?

She had caught him by freezing the ground and him falling into a trap she had made. She than knocked him out and tied him to a chair.

She stood in front of him with a scowl. She didn’t enjoy this game as much as he did. Her mask had been removed, giving Bart a few look at her face. She stared him down before smiling.

“Butch you can leave.” You said to your guard standing by the door. He left and closed the door, leaving the room in a dark cast.

The lights from outside the windows cast shadows across your features. The only other light was a small one back behind Bart, giving him the tiniest bit light to see your face.

“Impulse.” You stated “why do you always pop up and ruin everything?” You asked, no malice in your tone, Bart noted. Only curiosity.

“Well when you’re about to do something bad it’s kinda my job to come stop you.” Bart said as he smiled at you.

“Hmm” you hummed as you moved to a table full of weapons.

You grabbed a knife and turned to face him. Bart watched as you walked up to him slowly before leaning down to be at his eye level.

“You know,” you started with a sly smile “usually, I’d let you off with a warning. Maybe a slap on the wrist.” You whispered to him as you raised the knife to his face.

“but today you didn’t just mess up my plan. No.” You whispered with fake sorrow. You dragged the knife against his jaw, causing Bart to let out a breath. “You messed up the Bane’s plan too.”

Bart sucked in a breath. He didn’t know that. Obviously, he could put run Bane, but that didn’t change the fact that he was scared of him.

“Yea so, now I have to teach you a real lesson Impulse. Either with me or Bane. Take your pick.”

“Oh I’d much rather be punished by you.” Bart said as he wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

Your smile turned to an annoyed look. “Suit yourself.” You dug the knife at his neck, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to hurt.

Bart winced in pain, but another idea popped into his head. Acting like his name, he impulsively took action.

“So what do you do when you’re not trying to kill me?” He asked teasingly. The smirk on his face prevalent.

Your face slipped for a minute before the walls were back up again. “Is that really what you’re asking right now?” You asked dumbfounded.

“Well,” he started staring you right in the eyes, you could finally see the color of them. A nice golden brown. “I figured since your bodyguard wasn’t in here anymore, we could get to know each other a little more.” He smiled seductively.

Your blush was very noticeable, especially since your mask was off. “But- stop trying to distract me from your punishment.” You said sternly, though Bart was not convinced.

“Well I normally wouldn’t let someone tie me up the first official date, but you’re a special exception.” Bart winked. “So, at least tell me about yourself, since I’m being so nice.” He looked at you with faux innocence. You won’t lie, the look on his face was turning you on. You had to figure out a way to have him keep the look on his face.

You quickly remember that Bane would have your head if you didn’t take care of Impulse. Your need for survival trumped the need between your legs.

“That’s a vague question.” You say as you resume moving your knife against his neck, watching the goosebumps that it leaves in its wake.

“Huh?” Bart asked.

“Thats a vague question. Be specific. What did you want to know?” You ask as your knife slowly pierces the skin of his neck.

He hisses at the pain, before almost chocking on air. You moved your head towards his neck and licked the blood off of his neck. Bart stares at you, completely turned on and kinda scared.

You watched as the cut immediately healed itself, leaving no scar. You notice his shocked staring and laugh.

“How about a deal? Every question I answer, you have to answer one of mine. Deal?” You asked as you made the same innocent look he had given you earlier.

He nodded dumbly and you smiled.

“So too fast too furious, what’s your question?” You asked him.

“What’s your name?” He asked, his smile returning.

Your knife continued on its path across his neck going up to his jaw line.

“Y/N” you said as your knife gently touched his jaw line. He breathed out, liking the sensation of it gently touching him. “Your turn.” He tells you.

“Why do you heal so fast?” You asked as he breathed deeply. You were genuinely curious.

“Super fast metabolism.” he breathed as your knife made its way to the end of his suit by his neck.

Your knife gently teared the spandex, revealing more skin to slice at. His skin was incredibly soft. Slightly tan with freckles all over the part of his now exposed shoulder.

“Why are you working for Bane?” He asked. You weren’t really a villain in his eyes. More of an anti hero. You didn’t really harm people. You helped bad guys though, but you didn’t seemed fond of that.

“Cause I have to.” You said, still mesmerized by the goosebumps you were creating on his supple skin.

He figured he can ask you about it another day. Right now he didn’t want anything to stop you from dragging the knife all over him.

“Why do you always come to Gotham? I thought you and the flash protect Central City. That’s like two states away.” You say you start to cut the skin of his shoulder gently.

He breathes out a whine as it hurts. You try not to focus on the way that noise made you feel.

“What do you think sweetheart? Why am I here?” You might have been intimidated by his words if you weren’t meant to be torturing him.

You grabbed him by the hair and pushed his head back fast. He whined again and stared at you in shock.

“I asked you a question, speedy!” You say, giving him a dangerous look.

He stares at you in shock and overwhelmed lust. You smirk and decide to sit on his lap instead of kneeling on the floor.

You let go of his hair and go back you his shoulder. Watching the blood drip down a little. You saw the cut had healed and just to turn him on more, you lean down and lick the blood up his shoulder. You lick a little higher than where the blood stopped just to mess with him.

“Because I wanted to see you.” He states. Blushing madly.

You look up at him, and look through his goggles into his eyes. You saw shame and embarrassment. He’s telling the truth.

You won’t lie, that statement might have made your day, hell, your week. You try to hide the smile on your face but miserably fail. You had a lot of body image issues growing up and were bullied heavily, it was nice to find out someone actually wanted to see you, not just for a business deal.

“Your turn.” You tell him, still a little giddy.

“Why do you always kidnap me?” He asked with a handsome smile.

“You always try to stop me. So why not just stop you before you can?” You say as you pick your knife back up and continue your assault of his skin.

your hand pulls down the fabric a bit that had been cut on his shoulder, revealing part of his chest.

Bart sucks in a breath. Waiting for your next move.

“Why aren’t you actually hurting me?” Bart asked. You looked up at Impulse.

“Do you want me to actually hurt you?” You whisper as your kinda gently trails down from his shoulder.

“No.” He said as the cool knife hits his chest.

“I’m not gonna hurt cause I don’t want to.” You say turning back to work.

“But won’t the henchmen outside notice I’m not hurt?” Bart asked.

“What do you mean?” You asks as you slice a tiny shallow part of his right pec.

Bart makes a small whimper at the sensation, as another better idea pops into his head.

“Like don’t people who are tortured usually scream and make noise?” He asks in a seductive voice.

Your knife stopped moving again and you look at him and see his eyes blown out with lust. Your mind made a decision before you could stop yourself. You leaned down and licked up the blood before dragging your tongue up his shoulder to his neck, before sucking on the skin of his neck.

Bart moaned as he leaned more into your touch. The noise he made went straight to your core.

You pulled back, a tiny bit of blood on the corner of your mouth. Your hands went into Impulses hair and you gently tugged, causing him to leg out another whine. You moved your sitting position so that your legs were straddling his.

“Yea. I suppose they do. You wanna help me make this sound real?” You ask as your hand move onto his face, pushing his goggles up so you can see his eyes.

“Yes.” Bart says as he felt his dick harden against your thigh.

“Good boy.” You say before leaning in to kiss Bart.

——

anyone want a part 2?

Edit: Part 2 here

[dyns33]

Flufftober 2024 - 9 Bane

There were many things about the "modern" world that Bane didn't understand since he met Y/N and often visited her in Gotham.

That didn't mean he hated it, just that he didn't understand, after all this time in the Pit then with the League, and that he was too proud and stubborn to say when he loved it, because it wouldn't go with his speech about how rotten the world was.

He still had to hide his fascination when he asked a lot of questions about birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and now Halloween.

Y/N had been trying to explain to him for several minutes what the best celebration was, but it was obvious that he was grimacing under his mask.

"… Why do you think it's the best ?"

"I just explained it to you, Bane."

"You told me that children went out alone in the street to ask strangers for sweets while being disguised as people who don't exist, allowed to vandalize the houses of those who didn't respond favorably, risking being kidnapped and gorging themselves on candies that are bad for their health."

"… Of course, it doesn't sound great when you summarize it like that. But adults go the children, they don't have the right to vandalize, and often the candies are not all eaten at the same time."

"Hmm." Bane growled, still not convinced.

"Besides, adults can also have fun like I told you."

"By drinking way too much alcohol and waking up in situations that are as avoidable as they are tragic."

"You're saying that because of last night's horror movie, it's less crazy and bloody in real life, I promise you ! Trust me."

No, really, the explanations given did not allow Bane to give a favorable opinion on Halloween.

However, he had blind faith in Y/N, as much as he wanted to make her happy. So if she liked this holiday, he would not criticize it too much.

For a moment, his eyes would let out a hint of interest when she spoke to him about spending the whole evening together, her with a rather revealing disguise, watching television. He refused to admit it, but he liked television. And maybe her in costumes, but just maybe.

But the glow disappeared when she spoke of going out on the street.

"Since everyone will be disguised, you will not need to hide your mask with a scarf for once. We will be able to walk quietly."

"Some hidden in the shadows could see me, take advantage of it. It is not a good idea."

"Oh." sighed Y/N, disappointed. "We go out together so rarely. I do not like you being locked up all the time when you visit me."

"I've been to prison, Habibi. I'm not locked up when I'm with you."

"Aw, Bane."

"And… I don't like the idea of ​​all these people looking at you and trying to take you from me."

It wasn't that important to her to get out, she was too old for trick-or-treating, and if Bane felt more comfortable staying in the apartment, then she wasn't going to push it.

They would have a good time, looking for a horror movie that would finally make the giant ninja jump a little. So far, all the ones they had seen had simply perplexed him.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Divine Feminine—

Luke Hughes x Poet!Reader

I’ve never written anything like this before, so lightly on the judgment, please

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ynofficial just posted!!

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ynofficial might have a little something in the works :)

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user1 BREAKUP POETRY???

ynofficial maybe…..

edwards.73 mom told me to tell you she’s expecting a signed copy of your book on the front doorstep asap

ynofficial anything for mama Edwards 🫶🏻

user27 THEY BROKE UP

user1 they broke up like 6 ish months ago

user32 literary genius 😩

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ynofficial weekend crashing at Umich feat. lots of wine, p.s. Duker is my new fav person <3

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markestapa GO BLUE 〽️🔵

ynofficial you are literally the bane of my existence

markestapa you know you love me. I keep it real.

user4 the y/n and umich hockey crossover is everything I've ever wanted in life

ynbestfriend NYU >> UMich

Liked by ynofficial

Dylanduke25 missing you already!! I hate hockey boys

edwards.73 Duke stole my best friend…

ynofficial get over yourself

ynofficial Duke if I could pack you in my carry on I would take you back to NY with me

lhughes_06 Bud has a game tonight, no can do

ynofficial you’re no fun hughe 😤

user5 girl book announcement now. Please.

ynofficial I promise it’s gonna be soon, just have some finishing touches before it’s perfect

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umichhockey

Shoutout to our newest member of the family ynofficialtwt for keeping our sophomore boys in check this weekend. 

Posted from iPhone13

like -- retweet -- comment

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ynofficial something about being in this body, makes love feel like charity, something I never asked for but am practically starving without.

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user12 LOVE TO SEE IT!

ynbestfriend you’re glowing

ynofficial give me a smooch 😽

Dylanduker25 SLAYED

user23 Yn feeding us WELL today

Oliviarodrigo TEARS ARE IN MY EYES

user72 loving this era on you 🫶🏻

lhughes_06 you have a way with words ig

ynofficial awe my biggest supporter

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lhughes_06 summer loving ☀️

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user6 a smile on Quinners face!?

umichhockey hmm Hughes with the soft launch??

lhughes_06 got my media training from the best

edwards.73 wonder who that could be🤔

lhughes_06 should’ve let you drown in the lake ❤️

user7 the hair. i’m drooling.

user8 I’m gonna pretend like the gf thing isn’t happening and just admire the abs

ynofficial she must be a godsent if she has to put up with your ass

lhughes_06 you have no idea

ynofficial I think I have a small idea

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ynofficial  he is my sun, his touch is warmth brushing against my fragile skin, his kisses are fuelled with stardust

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user87 you’re just so effortlessly pretty

user98 obsessed with literally everything you do

user10 are we just gonna ignore THE SECOND PICTURE

ynofficial yes

edwards.73 hand placement 😑

trevorzegras that bathroom looks a little familiar 🧐

ynofficial choke.

lizzymcalpine I’m going to need that book announcement soon

ynofficial Lizzy my love, I promise it’s soon

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ynofficial just posted to their Instagram story!!

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ynofficial just posted!!

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ynofficial now that I’m a certified WAG may as well spread the word that my “little project” turned into my most cherished piece of work yet :) a three-part series dedicated to heartbreak, self-love, and new beginnings. I cannot wait to share this part of my life with each and every one of you <3

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user28 SCREAMING OMG

lhughes_06 my girlfriend wrote a book about me 😩

ynofficial my muse

lhughes_06 I’m bushing and shit

ynmom my baby is so talented

ynofficial luv you mum

user39 girl you said SMALL PROJECT

user82 3 books!!!!

dylanduke25 better be some poems in there about me

ynofficial they’re all about you king 😽

lhughes_06 😒

quinnhughes can someone please explain to me how moosey pulled a girl who is pretty and talented

lhughes_06 W rizz

edwards.73 you should be put down like a dog.

[mydearzero]

Vocal Exercise | E.M. x Reader

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: Your band is about to compete against Corroded Coffin in Battle of the Bands and you're way too nervous. Eddie might just know something to take the edge off (hint: it's not drugs)

Smut, Enemies to Lovers.

Warnings: AFAB Reader, Smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), oral sex (f rec), creampie, Exhibitionism, If I missed any warnings please tell me!

2K words

A/N: I wrote something?? How very unlike me lmao I hope you enjoy this once in a blue moon occurrence

You nibbled at your thumb as you stared at the sign-up sheet. It shouldn't be this difficult a decision, so why was it? You had played in front of a crowd before. Your band was always excited about any opportunity to play. What was keeping you from signing up for the annual Battle of the Bands? 

You heard him before you saw him. The bane of your existence. Eddie Munson. The chains attached to his clothing rattled with every confident step he took. 

You had no good reason to dislike Eddie. There was just something about him that got under your skin, and he knew it. He used the fact to his advantage, even if only to get a rise out of you. 

You refused to turn your gaze to him as you continued staring at the sign-up sheet. Three entries so far, and no Corroded Coffin in sight. Tammy Thompson was on top of the list, as always. 

"Unless you've developed telekinesis, can you move?" His voice, though somewhat attractive, was like nails on a chalkboard. It sent raised the hairs on the back of your neck. 

You grumbled as you crossed your arms, took a step back and gestured to the sheet. "All yours, Munson." 

"What, too scared to sign up? Not like you'll win. Why don't you just let the pros do what they do and keep practising in your friend's basement until you're ready, hmm?" He smirked as he all but etched 'CORRODED COFFIN' into the paper. 

"Oh yeah, the pros, like Tammy Thompson? I'm sure she'll get real far. Can't beat raw talent, Munson." You rolled your eyes as you snatched the pen from his hands and wrote your band's name under Eddie's recognisable handwriting. 

Eddie never moved an inch, leaning against the wall. He watched as you scribbled your bandmember's names and what you'd be doing, never taking his eyes off your disgruntled face. 

Usually, you'd try to not let him have the upper hand. His gaze was knawing, screaming at you to return it. You caved and turned to look. His smirk grew as he chewed his gum obnoxiously. "See you there, (Y/L/N)." 

_____

"I don't think I can do this. I think I'm gonna hurl." You fanned your face as the stagehand came over to give you your microphone headset. The loud music faded to a halt as Corroded Coffin finished their set. 

"We'll leave you to it for a bit, yeah? I'll get you some water, maybe. Just calm down, it'll be fine." Your bandmates gave a thumbs-up as they filed out of the room. 

"Y'know... I might know something to take the edge off." Eddie's voice came from the hallway, peering his head around the corner into your dressing room. His bangs stuck to his forehead, sweat covering his skin. Lucky bastard, he'd already gotten it over with. 

"Piss off, Munson. I'm not interested in any of your drugs." You scoffed as you messed with the positioning of the clunky headset. 

The stagehand left you once she connected all the wires and had given you the last rundown of when you'd be on. Three more acts, two and a half before your mic was hot. You had to get the vocal jitters out now. 

Eddie paraded into the dressing room and closed the door behind him, locking it. "That's not exactly what I had in mind. But that offer does stand." He crossed his arms as he leaned against the vanity. You'd never quite noticed how toned they were or how tall he was until now. 

Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through the room, your nerves combined with his post-performance butterflies. You couldn't help but be intrigued. You gestured for him to continue. -

He put his hands on your hips and pulled you to stand between his legs. You frowned as he leaned to whisper in your ear. "Nothing more relaxing than a decent orgasm, babe." 

Your eyes widened as you pulled away from his touch, mouth agape. "What the hell, Eddie! That's not funny!" You slapped his bicep. His eyebrows raised in challenge as he watched your thought process. He saw your horrified face change to confusion before it flushed with shame. You hadn't even noticed you'd called him by his first name. 

He noticed your uncertainty. You loathed him, but he was right. And it wasn't like he wasn't easy on the eyes. He knew you'd been convinced when he stroked your arm and your eyes fluttered at the surprisingly delicate touch. 

Your breath hitched as he leaned close once more. "Let me make you feel good." His touch burned your skin, heat soaring straight between your legs. His lips pressed to your neck, breath hot on your skin. 

A soft moan left your mouth when he sucked harshly under your jaw. "Is that a yes?" He questioned, slowly trailing his hand down your side. You nodded breathlessly. 

"I'm gonna need you to say it, princess." He tutted. You were surprised when a barely audible whine made its way out of your throat. 

"Please, Eddie." were all the words you could gather. His eyes met yours. They were polar opposites. You felt yours were pleading and desperate, while his seemed amused, maybe derisive. His pupils were blown. Whether from the adrenaline, drugs, lust, or a combination of all of the above was uncertain. 

He turned your positions around, pushing you onto the vanity table and getting on his knees. The way he looked up at you through his eyelashes could only be described as absolutely blasphemous. You were convinced he wasn't doing this for you as much as he was doing it for himself. 

He placed his hands on your thighs, ever so slowly creeping up under your skirt. He hooked the tips of his fingers into the band of your underwear, tugging it down. You raised yourself off the table so he could slide it down. He barely got it past your knees as he dove forward, using his hands to spread your legs to make room for his head. His grip on your knees was crushing as he licked a stripe up between your lips. He nuzzled for a little before releasing his hands, opting to spread your lips with them instead. 

A sigh of relief left your mouth as your body melted into his touch. One of your hands was on the table to steady yourself, the other tangling itself in his hair. His lips wrapped around your clit. He circled his tongue around it a few times before slowly sliding a finger inside. 

"Knew you'd be so wet for me." He sounded out of breath as he devoured you. "All bark, but the second the offer stands, you're like a little bitch in heat." He chuckled. You tugged his hair harshly, urging him to shut up and continue. 

Eddie complied and returned to pleasuring you. You could feel him smiling against your pussy, as stupid as it sounds. The bastard was enjoying this way too much. He added another finger and curled them in the exact way he knew would get you close. You felt the pressure build up in your throat as you tried to stay silent. Noise threatened to spill with every thrust of his fingers and movement of his tongue. 

Eddie deemed you close enough, judging by the tight grip on his hair combined with the suppressed sounds coming from your lips. He rose from his knees and wasted no time unbuckling his belt. You tried to listen for the stage to estimate the time you'd have. Eddie spread your legs once more as he positioned himself between them. 

"Wait, Eddie. How many songs have there been?" You whispered as you put your hand on his chest to stop him. "Don't know, don't care. Guess you'll have to shut up and keep quiet." He shrugged as he grabbed your wrist, removing your hand from his chest. He pushed his underwear to join his jeans around his knees and stroked himself a couple of times before lining himself up. 

Eddie pushed the head of his cock inside and roughly reached up your shirt, grabbing your right boob and twisting the nipple harshly. An audible yelp left your mouth. "Shut up." He groaned as he pushed all the way in. Air was nowhere to be found, especially not your lungs. 

He barely let you adjust before pistoning in and out. Adrenaline was very obviously still coursing through his veins. He grabbed your hips and pushed you to lean against the mirror. The lights surrounding it shone down on him, almost giving him an angelic glow. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he changed his stance. Small whimpers and breaths left you, still trying to remain as quiet as possible. Eddie pushed inside relentlessly, chasing his release and coercing yours out of you. He's found the right spot now, he knew by your face. He moved his right hand to lean on your thigh, thumb circling your clit. He grinned as he watched your face, eyes shut tightly. 

The light on your headset flickered, indicating it'd just gone hot. Eddie took this as his sign to hurry the fuck up and make you come. Loud knocks on the door, combined with the music from the stage drowned out the banging noise of you against the mirror and his balls slapping against your pussy over and over. 

Your breathing sped up as you neared your peak. Eddie was getting sloppy, putting more and more pressure on your clit, circling it hastily to meet the pace of his hips. He groaned as he felt you tighten around him. You were so close. 

"Y/N! Are you in here? We're on in three!" Your bandmate yelled through the locked door. Their pleas went unheard over your whines and Eddie's rambles in your ear. 

"I'm gonna fill you up so well, baby." Eddie smiled to himself sadistically as he moaned in your ear. He was going to make you scream his name through that headset even if it was the last thing he'd do. You were gonna kill him. 

The knot in your stomach snapped when Eddie pulled out all the stops, flicking your left nipple, circling your clit with the speed of light and hitting the exact right spot to send you over the edge. 

"Eddie!" You screamed as you came on his cock. He laughed and groaned in satisfaction as he followed, hips stilling and pushing as deep as he could. He looked between you with glee as he filled you to the brim. 

Your eyes widened as you noticed you'd not only screamed his name while your mic was on, he'd just cum inside you, and you had to be on stage in less than two minutes. "Better keep it in, princess. Everybody can probably already guess what we did, don't want to give them more proof when you have my cum spilling from that pretty pussy in the middle of the stage, hmm?"  

He smirked as he pulled his dick out and pushed the spilt cum back inside with two fingers. He gave your pussy one last tap before sliding your underwear back up, fixing your top and skirt and letting you down from the vanity. You already felt the cum trickling out slowly and staining your underwear

You could barely give yourself a last glance in the mirror before he was ushering you out of the door and onto the stage, your flustered band members following after seeing you barge out of the dressing room, Eddie hot on your tail. They'd definitely heard. Which means the crowd definitely heard you scream his name through the last band's performance. 

You'd never felt as embarrassed, yet turned on in your life. Your nerves were long forgotten, the only worry in your mind during your performance being to not let any more of his cum spill from inside you. 

At least you were no longer worried about your singing skills. Too bad Corroded Coffin had the menace that was Eddie Munson, or you'd definitely come first instead of second. Or, well, come first again. 

[mantisgodsart]

First batch of @bug-oc bugs. This would've gotten finished sooner, but we've been sick as a dog for most of the tournament's runtime, so we're calling it a victory that we managed to get anything done - there are a lot fewer contestants this year, which means both less art to do and more ability to commit to trying to make some particularly unique creature designs - there are some in this batch that we REALLY want to do justice, and that is... unfortunately hard to do when we're barely functioning for two hours a day. This is our unofficial call to STAY HOME when you're sick! Even if you're feeling sturdy enough to go out and about, your actions can impact those around you very easily.

Design notes and owners below the cut with individual pictures - the middle one here is a beta design that we're still in the process of ironing out, so that one just has

[This is the first time I've met someone who "worked in Snakemouth" since that one... weird encounter, with those roaches giving me a job offer. I didn't know that they had a security guard position. I... didn't know that they knew what a security guard even is, honestly. To have two bugs involved with the lab turn up is an incredible coincidence. I wonder if the time portal is actually open again, or if different universes just work on different timeframes?

Regardless, it's a good opportunity to advance my knowledge of partial transmutation and multi-organism transmutation. Whatever happened to that moth in the last tournament... my understanding of how to handle both symbiotes and parasitism is clearly incomplete, if running into multiple organisms can cause problems like that. I'll have to put some extra work into monitoring...]

Omelette from @tangleslime2 was one that felt... obvious, we suppose?Your work will one day consume you, and such - one way or another! More literal in this case. A lot of the work here, honestly, is toying with shapes and body language. Omelette has a LOVELY sillhouette with some extremely identifiable clothes, and translating it to a zombee design was Very fun. Maybe a bit plain on the design side, but the linework was incredibly fun to do - we got to do a whole lot of fur, which is always a fun time. This design was very quick and easy, as designs go, and we had a lot of fun doing the hat. Wildly askew, and held on by but a single antennae!

Sundew and Nerine from @mizzle-moths are untransmuted, as requested - Sundew's pose was very fun to do - nice and fluid, though the wing markings were admittedly a bit funky to parse. We hope we got all the details correct here! Both of your bugs have gorgeous color palettes. Our usual marker set's dark gray marker's dried out by now, so we had to use an alternative, which... unfortunately bled clean through our sketchbook page. Lesson learned, we suppose. The scribble over the eyes used the same pen that we did our linework with - the "scribbling over the eyes of a dead character" trope is very well-worn, but cliche only becomes cliche because it inspires enough people to follow in the footsteps of a story, and we're very fond of the way it adds to the... hmm, visual language? We just think it's neat. Hope you enjoy!

[...working with spirits and more immaterial forms isn't my area of expertise, but it's something i dearly need experience in. My hope is that by advancing my knowledge in this field, I might be able to apply the knowledge to other fields that evade me - anything inanimate has proven to be my bane, and I'm fairly certain that a few of my attempts into this area have produced "hauntings", when they're not producing incredibly specialized organisms. Maybe if I know how to cause a haunting, I can figure out how to not cause one...?]

Moving on to our beta design - that is a VERY rough draft of Beera from @longeth-dayv. Given by the obvious Luigi's Mansion inspiration, we wanted to run with it by pulling our inspiration more directly from a Luigi's Mansion enemy - mostly, this meant tinkering with sillhouettes while trying to figure out what sort of design would match best to the character, and how to translate a design to something recognizable.

The pack, despite its significance character-wise, doesn't have quite as much weight in the balance of the design, which meant more tweaking for the transformation - though we briefly tried toying with the pack itself for this design, that particular page we felt would skew a bit too close to body horror for your personal comfort, so we scrapped the idea. Better safe than sorry, as they say. As such, we're aiming more towards using wire and body language to drive recognition.

The image here is a loose draft based on the bats enemy, used to test the fade and layering of the highlighter we were using - as it turns out, it doesn't layer very well! We started out looking for electric enemies, but we only really turned up the Electric Oozer, and that... was a bit too close to "normal boo" for our personal tastes, so we swapped to just primarily yellow enemies. Though we were previously considering taking the bat design to final draft, actually putting it out on paper convinced us to the contrary, so we went back to the... sketchboard. We'd bet there's a good chance you can already figure out where we're going with this one. A fun design challenge, for sure!

Finally (at least for this particular evening), we offer you this: a look behind the scenes, (or at least, the scenes that don't involve "us being sick and struggling to communicate whether or not something is sorted with the other mod"). What we've been using to keep track of matches, as well as to draw lots. Not precisely a high-tech solution, but damn if it doesn't work - the ends here are split into two for the sake of a loser's bracket, which we... thought we had figured out, but then it turned out we've been having miscommunications on what the bracket setups even are, and, well...

...we're working on it, we'll say. It might still be integrated, but that'll have to wait 'til trying to do things doesn't require fighting for our life. We will probably rerandomize the brackets for it, we might use it for illustration practice if the contestants are cool with it, so on and so forth. As always, thank you for your patience - we hope that Round 2 encounters slightly less hitchups compared to Round 1.

[rubykgrant]

(a little thing I wrote for a bigger fic, but I like how absolutely nonsensical Jon and Martin's "meet-cute" was, and now Jon gets to let Martin know the secret dorky side he's been hiding behind his very serious attitude~)

“If you don’t mind me being blunt?”

“By all means,” Jon encourages him.

“When exactly did you start to notice me- that is, notice that you found me attractive?”

“Oh, well… haha, um- that actually happened almost right away…” Jon’s mouth makes that flat little smirk that means he’s mildly embarrassed.

“Right away? Oh, come on…” Martin has trouble believing that.

“No, honestly. Before I really even knew you, before I convinced myself you were the bane of my existence, my very FIRST thought when I saw you was- he’s lovely,”

“You’re just trying to butter me up!” Martin argues, but feels himself blushing. Just barely.

“Hmm, ‘lovely’ was the first WORD that formed in my head. I suppose my other thoughts were less articulate,” Jon doesn’t elaborate on that (only twice had he allowed himself to gush about his early thoughts regarding Martin, which never really went away; once to Georgie, once to Daisy. Georgie had called him a sap, and Daisy had called him unhinged. He wonders what they would have both said together, if they’d had the chance to compare notes).

Martin continues to shake his head, unconvinced.

Jon thinks this over.

“Do you remember when we met?” Jon asks, leaning beside Martin at the sink; his body-language looks like somebody at a pub, about to drop what they believe to be a winner of a pick-up line.

“Yes, unfortunately. I think we BOTH made pretty strong first-impressions on each other,” Martin replies.

“Mmm, very much so. But- when you first ran up, and asked if I had seen a dog? I thought you were trying to tell me a joke,”

“You thought- what? A joke?” Martin turns to look at Jon.

“A joke. I was surprised right out of my train of thought, forgot about whatever I had been doing, forgot to keep my aloof and serious attitude as the new Head Archivist. I didn’t know what to think, and I was so taken off-guard, it made me genuinely intrigued. I was even excited to see if I could figure out the joke, be all impressive and clever. But then…” Jon trailed off, rolling his eyes.

“Then I made it clear- an actual dog was running around inside the building,” Martin finished. “Honestly Jon, what kind of joke could that have been?”

“Hmm… have you seen a dog? I was hoping somebody could help me SPOT one,” Jon answers. Martin’s jaw drops. That was indeed a terrible pun… but Jon isn’t finished. “Have you seen a dog? I CANINE find it anywhere! Have you seen a dog? I’m having a RUFF time looking on my own! Have you seen a dog? I’ve searched this place a HOUND-dred times! Have you seen a dog? This one is im-PAW-sible for me to find! Have you seen a dog? I’m worried it might be in GREAT DANE-ger! Have you seen-”

“STOP, HAHAHA, STOP- YOU’RE GONNA KILL ME!” Martin doubles-over, and slides down against the cupboards under the sink. He’s laughing so hard he’s crying, and his cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Terrible puns aside, my first thoughts of you were- Oh, somebody is talking to me? Oh, he’s telling me a joke? Oh, he’s lovely. Oh, I can impress this lovely man when he sees how good I am at figuring out jokes! OH, HE LET A DOG INTO THE BUILDING!”

Martin laughs again, helplessly hiding his face in his knees. Jon steps away from the sink, crouching down in front of him. Martin continues to giggle, peeking through his fingers as Jon lightly strokes his hair.

“Is that what I should have done? Won your heart with bad puns?” Martin asks.

“I’m not sure I’m much of a prize, but you certainly won my heart, regardless. The problem was ME, almost everything about you kept catching my attention, I just had my head up my own arse. I’m not good enough for you,” Jon answers. Martin finally moves his hands away from his face, catching Jon’s with his own.

“Maybe you just need to step-up and BE good enough for me?”

“I can try,” Jon says with a smile that implies he’s actually determined to do exactly that. Martin leans forward and kisses him.

[adorablebanite]

OC Deep Dive Questions

Thank you @hippotooth for the tag, and giving me more excuses to blab about my dumb girl!

I'd love to tag some folks, should they wish to partake (if they haven't already!) @newtia @beecreeper @obuoliukai @melvinthedepressedrobot @ennissg @sankttealeaf @forged-by-fire @forlornghosts @walkerdraws @lizziemajestic @archduchessgortash @archduchessgabrielle @elinorbard @sunflowergem @threeofswrds @arianiziolek @defira85 @lillietea @kawareo @toobisa @kaava @asteria49 @demong @aurorawintersnight @archduke-enver-gortash (I'm sorry if I missed anyone! I'd love to see EVERYONE'S response, if possible!

(I realize Tumblr doesn't let me tag more than a handful of people but i'm stubborn and will do it in the replies, lmao)

Questions/Answers for my beloved OC ~Lilla~ under the cut

Warning - she's literally just a "made in a lab for gortash" trope, so enjoy extreme self-indulgence!

What common/uncommon fear do they have?

I don't know if there's much in the way of common when it comes to BG3, but I suppose Lilla's actually fairly brave! She's a Banite after all - though it took some getting there. Honestly her worst fear is getting "fired" by the boss - but that's a given. Lady Orin actually terrifies her, and maybe Balthazar a bit, as well (he's just mostly stinky and smug, though.)

Do they have any pet peeves?

You'll be sick of hearing this already, but given Lilla's nature, her biggest pet peeve is when people don't cooperate with Gortash 😅

Honestly just general incompetence - her standards rival the Chosen's, which are basically impossible, so good luck!

What are 3 items you can find in their bedroom?

An emerald silk bathrobe, an alchemy station stocked to the brim with all the good stuff, and a small library nook!

What do they notice first in a person?

Visually not much (unless she's attracted to them, in which case she's just like the rest of us and looks respectively, or otherwise 😉).

Believe it or not, she doesn't judge much based on looks; she's learned from the boss that every person has the potential to offer some skill or opportunity that could benefit the Banites and their chosen - so she's always looking to see what she can exploit or harness from someone, and to see if she can delegate their skills to Gortash's cause.

On a scale from 1-10, how high is their pain tolerance?

Pretty high up there- gonna say at least an 8, but she's cheating because she was kind of intentionally 'made' that way. Once she got a pommel from a greatsword straight to the cheekbone during a tournament and she just kind of smiled bloody at the dude which freaked him the fuck out because she's so small and un-phased.

Do they go into fight or flight mode when under pressure?

Depends on the pressure! She's survived/won a battle royal against some really grizzled Banites - though it may have mostly been luck -but it helped shape her ability to respond to fear fairly well! Again, the whole 'Banite blood' thing helps a lot!

She did have a massive panic attack when she thought her worst fear (see first question) was realized, which sent her into quite a state - so that would be the closes to fleeing she's ever gotten, really.

Do they come from a big family/are they a family person?

If by "family" you mean "secret Banite sect at the outskirts of Calimport," then yes she comes from a fairly big family, but she doesn't remember them, since they erased her memory when she was five and gave her to an Ilmater orphanage (long story - sounds weird - it is). Not really a family person, but could be, if her path took a different turn! She's quite nurturing considering all things (Which may have been a point of contention with Bane, but she ultimately proved herself, eventually).

What animal represents them best?

This is such a hard question...I never considered. Hmm what could be considered regal and unhinged in the same stroke? Maybe I'll say Owl - because it's the symbol of knowledge, and she's a knowledge domain cleric? Also she can be fairly deadly if you let your guard down around her 😊 Also she doesn't shut up sometimes.

What is a smell they dislike?

Balthazar.

Have they broken any bones?

As mentioned before, she had her face smashed with a really heavy weapon. Would you be interested in a smol excerpt? (You get it regardless 😅 (as usual warning: amateur writing)

How would a stranger likely describe them?

Very prim, proper, and polite! Quite sweet as well! Unless you've said something uncouth about Lord Gortash (It is recommended to not do that around her).

Are they a night owl, or morning bird?

She's extremely gort-coded, so whatever he wants (so both)

What’s a flavor they hate and a flavor they love?

Plump red berries are her favourite for reasons only the readers of AFI know :p. I don't know what she doesn't like! Maybe dirty/muddy meat and potatoes, which also only AFI readers will know why ^_^

Do they have any hobbies?

lol. lmao.

Alchemy I guess xD. Basically studying anything that makes her more competent/useful at her job.

Boom, surprise birthday party! How do they react to surprise?

I think at first she'd think it was a waste of time, but she wouldn't admit that she loves it (and the attention).

Do they like to wear jewelery?

Yes! A black suede collar with a Banite charm! She switches it for an Ilmater charm when in public though >.>

Do they have neat or messy handwriting?

Very neat, very succinct, very efficient. Transcribing was the very first reason Gortash hired her - especially because she's able to use her Mage Hand to write (ie in unseen places for what may or may not be for spying purposes).

What are the two emotions they feel the most?

This is so lame and cringe but just general catharsis for fulfilling her purpose. It's a perk of the whole "made in a lab" trope. For a being conceived during a silly Banite ritual designed to make the perfect servant for Bane's chosen (whoever it should be at the time), she actually feels a great deal of love -it's up to individual philosophy if it's organic/genuine, or preprogrammed.

Do they have a favourite fabric?

Emerald silk ^_^

What kind of accent do they have?

An English one, I dunno man. She grew up in an orphanage, but was taught by Ilmater nurses/clerics, so she sounds like a fancy lil bitch.

[hresvelged]

TOA Anniversary Munday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is. Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing! Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Credits to Neffi for making this!

Name: Tiff

Pronouns: she/her

Birthday (no year): December 2nd

Where are you from? What is your time zone? USA; Eastern Standard Time

How long is your roleplay experience? 12-ish years give or take some hiatuses I took and whatnot.

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? I am pretty sure it was due to some friends I had in high school at the time lol. Ironically they wrote on Tumblr haha. I wrote short stuff on DeviantArt before that as one-shot things but we don't perceive that.

How were you introduced to TOA? I saw a promo post for it on Twitter. I was in a multi-fandom rp group writing 3H there at the time but I was intrigued at the idea of getting to interact with more Fire Emblem characters and having a new setting for my 3H muse.

Do you have any pets? No, but I used to have birds when I was younger.

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Fall because the weather starts to cool down lol. I also like the autumn cozy things.

What is your IRL occupation? Database Analyst.

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? Reading, listening to music, dance, cosplay, makeup.

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Persona, rhythm games (right now just Project Sekai but I used to be very big into Love Live), and I've enjoyed mystery series like Danganronpa and RainCode.

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: I am saddened to say I know very little about Pokemon asFGHL but I am hoping to change this soon.

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!) Hmm. I am left handed, I am one of the fastest typists at my job, and I have had a few ita bags over the years for various characters- Eli Love Live, Kanan Love Live, Makoto Persona 5, and I've started an Edelgard one lol.

How did you get into Fire Emblem? Three Houses was all over my Twitter feed when it came out and so I checked it out! The gameplay looked neat and the story seemed cool. And now I am here!

What Fire Emblem games have you played? I have played or watched playthroughs of Jugdral, the Archanea games, Awakening, Fates, Valentia, 3 Houses, and Engage.

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: First: Three Houses. Favorite: Three Houses.

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Probably Edelgard, Celine, Dorothea, Flayn, and Ivy.

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Edelgard lol! I went in 3H blind and I chose BEagles first because I liked her character and I was not disappointed.

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 Hmm not really, but I think Alfred and Diamant are cool lol.

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays? - Awakening: Chrom, still Chrom

Fates: I can't remember orz.

Three Houses: Edelgard, still Edelgard or maybe Hubert

Engage: Alfred, Alfred again or Diamant

Favorite Fire Emblem class? I've grown fond of the Armored classes over the years but I also like Gremory.

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? I'd probably be a healer lol and average stats.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Black Eagles.

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boons: Reason, Faith. Banes: Axe, Heavy Armor. Budding talent: Authority

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) Firene is very pretty and I am slightly bias haha.

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) To-Ah

Current TOA muses: Edelgard, Celine

Past TOA muses? Flayn, Annette, Dorothea, Elice, Yunaka. I think that's all.

If you have past muses, are there any you miss in particular? I enjoy them as characters but I don't want to write any of them right now. I prefer seeing them in other people's hands hehe.

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? My first muse was Flayn and I don't see myself writing her again. I wrote a lot of stuff for her both here and the previous MFRP group I was in and I feel satisfied with that.

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) My muse type is still the same I think lol! I gravitate a lot towards stoic women- Something about these ladies having a lot of responsibility on their shoulders and, for some of them, a colder exterior but a kind heart.

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? Male muses never stick for me in general. Aside from that, I'm not really sure, but I guess maybe characters who's designs are neat but I don't have their lore as well-grasped.

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) I enjoy a mix of things! I like fluff as much as I like angst stuff- It depends on the muses and context. I like steering my muses towards certain arcs and I like them developing friendships as well as finding themselves in difficult scenarios.

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? I'd like to write more AU's! The 3H timeskip AU and Fell Xenologue AU's are two off the top of my head. Otherwise, I hope to explore more of Edelgard opening up about herself and Celine developing more knowledge on surrounding lands.

Favorite TOA-related memories? I enjoyed Fantom Loews and KKE a lot as two lore events that come to mind! I also really have liked every Ethereal Ball interaction my muses have had. The more casual setting allows them to meet both old and new muses.

Present or past tense? I switch around but I've written more in past tense overall.

Normal size text, small text, no preference? I default to small text and bolded dialogue but I change it around sometimes and don't have a preference for other people when writing with me!

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 Not really hahaha. I wouldn't mind trying another Engage character sometime but as to who, I don't know yet lol.

[nagaficat]

TOA Anniversary Monday

Celebrating TOA and the people who contribute to make our group what it is.

Repost, don't reblog. Only fill in what you feel comfortable sharing!

Happy anniversary, TOA! Here's to many more years spent together.

Name: Erica

Pronouns: she or whatever you feel like I do not care

Birthday (no year): May 3!

Where are you from? What is your time zone? Philly suburbs, toa official time zone

How long is your roleplay experience? Long. I think I was like 18 or 19 so like 15ish years I don't want to do that math right now

How were you introduced to roleplaying as a whole? The Star Trek Online forums aksjdkdbd

How were you introduced to TOA? Saw it in the tags on Tumblr and was intrigued

Do you have any pets? Winston the German shepherd mix and Pipis the pisscat

What is your favorite time of year and why? (Season, holiday, general period) Winter probably but for sure Not Summer

What is your IRL occupation? Toddler teacher, specifically 18ish-24ish month olds

Some interests and things you like/enjoy? Taking long and beautiful naps with my dog

What non-Fire Emblem games do you play? Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Fallout is good. Nothing like super regularly 

Favorite Pokemon type & Pokemon: grass and ground, Diglett and Dugtrio have been my favs since gen 1 for some reason

Tell us some funfacts and trivia about yourself! (Optional bonus challenge: if you filled this out last year, try not to repeat what you said back then!)

I was on the kidney transplant list but my kidneys came back to life

I have two kids and they're both so unhinged

My dog set my kitchen on fire one time

I used to have a hatman irl but he was actually the Carrot Man and he looked like the peanut butter jelly time banana except a carrot and he was a friendly sleep paralysis demon and sometimes I miss him

How did you get into Fire Emblem? I went to GameStop and was looking at the used games and I guess Awakening caught my eye. 

What Fire Emblem games have you played? Genealogy, blazing blade, scared stones, some of por, sov, awakening, fates, 3h, engage. I've at least read through all of them except the tellius games. I should get on them. 

First & Favorite Fire Emblem games: first was Awakening, favorite to play is fe7

List your 5 favorite Fire Emblem characters across the series! Arvis, Travant, Finn, I really love Raphael maybe him, uhh this is hard to pick maybe Oifey. You could ask me this question tomorrow and I'll probably have a different answer

Who was the first character ever to make you go “ooh I like this one in particular” and why? Can be any context and reason! Frederick because I knew I was in love with him the moment I saw his face but Cynthia in a regular context 

Any Fire Emblem crushes? 😳 You know this you know it's Arvis and Travant but I do keep thinking about Raydrick recently. Wtf is wrong with me. 

If you’ve played (or are familiar with) the following games, who was your first S support? Who would you S support nowadays?

- Awakening: Frederick but I'd like to to a Priam romance someday

- Fates: I think it was Hinata but I honestly do not remember. Now idk! I don't think I've ever done the same s support twice in fates

- Three Houses: Claude but I would do a non romantic s support with Alois next time

- Engage: Saphir. Idk who I’d pick next time but it would be a different one. 

Favorite Fire Emblem class? Anything armored!

If you were a Fire Emblem character, what would be your class and stats? Would you be playable? Hmm I feel like I would probably not be playable. Some sort of healer if I was playable. A cleric. I cannot imagine myself having good stats you should bench me immediately.

If you were a Three Houses character, what would be your affiliation? (Black Eagles, Blue Lions, Golden Deer, Church of Seiros, Those Who Slither in the Dark, unaffiliated civilian, other - for example Almyran) Golden Deerrrrrr!!!!

If you were an Officers Academy student, what would be your boons, banes and potential budding talent? Boon would be healing, bane would be gauntlets, budding talent idk maybe riding or flying

If you were an Engage character, which nation would you originate from? (Firene, the Kingdom of Abundance; Brodia, the Kingdom of Might; Elusia, the Kingdom of Knowledge; Solm, the Queendom of Freedom; Lythos, the holy land of the Divine Dragon; Gradlon, the desolate land of the Fell Dragon) I think Brodia is cool but I don't think they would think I am cool

How do you pronounce TOA? 🤔(separate letters, to-ah, other?) Tee oh ay and I take psychic damage every time I hear someone call it toah

Current TOA muses: Deirdre, Ethlyn, and Altena 

Past TOA muses? Hilda, Elise, Serra, Charlotte, Tina, Silvia, Ninian…I feel like I'm missing someone maybe

Who was your first TOA muse? If you no longer have them, can you see yourself picking them up again? Hilda and nah I don't think I would

Do you believe you have a type of character you gravitate towards writing? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) Tragic love interests and little sisters

Do you have characters or types of characters you don’t think you can handle writing, but wish you could? I think it would be cool to write Manuela one day but I am convinced I would be terrible at it, also any male character. For some reason I have a mental block against them and I'm not entirely sure why this is 

What kind of scenes, situations etc do you believe you enjoy writing the most? (If you filled this out last year, has this changed in any way?) I like writing dialogue! Love a good reunion also. 

Do you have any scenario in mind for your muse(s) that gets you thinking “man I hope I get to write this one day”? I would literally do anything to write with an Arion.

Favorite TOA-related memories? Bruh literally all of them. Don't make me choose there have been so many amazing times here. 

Present or past tense? Past

Normal size text, small text, no preference? Normal because I'm lazy

Got any potential muse delusions to share? 😉 Nope!

[little-tyrant-gortash]

Oathbreaker

Pairing: fem!Tav x Enver Gortash, fem!Tav/Astarion

Tags: Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Paladin Tav (Baldur's Gate), Vaginal Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Drunk Sex, Unrequited Love, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Scars, Blood and Injury, Injury, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Pregnancy, Unplanned Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Torture, Psychological Torture, Implied/Referenced Torture

Word count: 1,905

Ao3 here.

Chapter 1.

Chapter 2.

Chapter 3.

Chapter 4.

Chapter 5.

Chapter 6.

Chapter 7.

Chapter 8.

Chapter 9.

Chapter 10.

Chapter 11.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 13.

Chapter 14.

Chapter 15.

Chapter 16.

Chapter 17.

Chapter 18.

Chapter 19. ⬇

Chapter 20.

Chapter 19: The Test

As Astarion had left the ball while they were out in the balcony, Tav could somewhat relax a little for the rest of the evening. She still hadn't left Gortash's side as he was talking to the nobles, going through future plans of making Baldur's Gate better, listening in on the deals he made with them. It all seemed normal, and very, very boring for her.

Nevertheless, the finger food the servants served was great, and the wine also helped her to get past the panic Astarion caused. She took a particular liking to cheese and sweet wine, smiling at Gortash whenever he looked at her to check if she was alright. Her hand remained on his arm for most of the night, though.

Wrapping up the event and getting away at last was a bit of fresh air. As they walked down the corridor and started to climb up the stairs, Tav tripped and nearly fell. As Gortash steadied her with his hands, she giggled out loud.

"I think I had a bit too much wine", she admitted, feeling rather tipsy now that she had to walk back to his chambers with him.

"Indeed, darling", Gortash confirmed with a smile as they stopped walking.

He was careful not to consume too much from the stronger sort - he personally wanted to make sure she was safe -, but he said nothing when he saw that she did. After all, she needed it for her nerves, and it seemed it truly helped. He wished that their night went pleasantly; had he known about Astarion being so important to her, he would've removed him from the guest list.

"Do we need to bathe?" She asked, then hiccupped, then covered her mouth with her free hand. "Whoops." Another giggle, another hiccup. "Oh no", another hiccup.

Even drunk, she remained irresistible for him. He hoped against hope Bane wouldn't notice how his heart stirred for her, how he would've done the unthinkable if she wanted him to.

"No, we needn't bathe now. We'll do it in the morning."

"Oh thank you", she rested her head on his shoulder with a huge smile. And hiccupped. "Your Grace- how very merciful of you-"

"Can you walk back to our chambers, or should I carry you instead?"

"Our chambers?" She giggled as she got a hold of his arm, pulling it a little as she swayed on her feet. "I don't remember moving in~"

"Perhaps you should", Gortash half smiled, then reached under her legs and lifted her up in his arms, bridal style.

"Oh- but I don't have fancy clothes-"

"We'll have tailors make some", he cocked a brow as he glanced down at her, walking up the stairs.

"Yeah. You'd love to spend a fortune on me, aren't you?"

"Maybe."

"The Chosen of Bane who's taking everything – would give things to me? For free?" She murmured, moving his coat in a way that the golden sculptures on it wouldn't poke her face.

"Your company is enough compensation for me, my dear."

"Is that all I have to give? Myself?"

"Curious, isn't it?" He looked forward as he continued his way down a corridor. He felt her fumbling with the shirt over his heart. "If I know you're near, all is well and good."

"You sound like you love me", she purred, tickling him under his chin. Gortash nearly stopped walking, but instead, he just swallowed and tried to ignore what she just said. "Awww, you're blushing~"

"Tav", he warned her quietly.

"Hmm?" She fumbled with the cord on his shirt again. Working it open. "Am I in trouble?"

"Take a guess."

"No?"

"Take another guess."

She giggled just when they reached his chambers. He used his elbow to open the door, then as soon as they were inside the dark room, he used his foot to shut it behind them. He walked over to his bed, then placed her down on it gently. By then, she removed the cord from his shirt and when he leaned over her, she placed it just under his nose.

"Mustache you a question", she giggled again, making him purse his lips.

"Tav", he murmured, grabbing her wrists gently and pinning them above her head. "I had no clue the wine would make you behave like this."

"You don't like it?"

"I didn't say that."

"Good. Because I'm not planning to change anything for anyone."

"Why, were you asked to change by others before?"

Tav bit her lower lip as she moved her legs, wrapping them loosely around his waist.

"Plenty of times. I'm never good enough for anyone, I suppose."

"You're good enough for me."

"Really?"

"You'll always be good enough, Tav."

"With all of my flaws and mistakes?"

"Especially with all of your flaws and mistakes."

He leaned down to kiss her, and she reciprocated as a memory bubbled up in her mind. On that night, she was also drunk, and her partner advanced just like Gortash did now; but no matter how she complained that she wanted to go to sleep instead because she was tired and wasn't in the mood, he didn't listen.

Now as she was thinking about it, she wanted to test if Gortash would be the same. Until now, they had slight… problems keeping themselves away from each other whenever they were near each other, but the more she thought about it, the more important it became for her. She had to know if she could trust him in that regard. That if it ever came to it, in a more serious situation, he'd stop if she told him to.

The mere thought that there was a possibility that he wouldn't, made tears gather in her eyes. Her hands found his shoulders as soon as he released them to cup her face, and she pushed – just a little was enough, he pulled away instantly. She didn't even need to say anything. She didn't need to turn her head away. Her throat tightened when she saw his questioning look.

"Is something wrong?" He furrowed his brows when he saw her expression. At first, he couldn't depict what it was. Fear? Relief? Confusion? A mixture of all three? "Are you alright?"

"I'd… rather not…" Tav whispered, biting her lower lip, looking away. "Not… not now, if that's alright."

A heartbeat of unbearable tension building higher and higher within her chest – until he let out a soft, quiet ah, pecked her lips one last time, and moved away.

"Alright. I can understand", he half smiled at her when she looked after him, "I'm tired, too. Maybe tonight we should just go to sleep, hmm?"

Tav sat up as she watched him remove his belt and coat, her arms wrapped around herself in silence. She couldn't recall if they ever went to bed without devouring each other first, but Gortash didn't look like he'd mind not having sex at all. He demanded no explanation, he didn't require reasons and begging, he just… stopped. It was so easy. Natural.

It should've brought her relief and comfort, but instead, it brought her immense sadness. Sadness and pity, for herself. How each and every soul she met was telling her that he was bad, bad news, and how he straight failed to act like a monster with her. He did get under her skin in many, many ways, but never like that.

Never as others did.

She tried to keep silent as he got up on his feet to hang up his coat near the door, and could manage to silently sob, her shoulders shaking, her eyes shut tight; but it did not take long for his arms to wrap her in an embrace again.

"Alright, what's the matter?" Gortash murmured in her ear. She got a hold of his shirt on his chest and grabbed, hard, as she sobbed in his shoulder. "What happened? Just a few minutes ago you were acting silly and I thought… Tav, what is it?"

"Nothin', nothin', just… just that you… didn't act like you didn't hear me…"

Now, he pulled away, with a completely different look on his face. He cupped her cheeks and rubbed her tears away with his thumbs.

"Why would I do that? Why would I ignore anything you say?"

His heart rapidly beat against his ribs as he slowly realised. He hurt me, she told him earlier.

"He didn't do the same for you, did he?"

Tav's eyes darted away. Gortash focused on every little clue she gave, the way she trembled in his hold, the way she refused to maintain eye contact.

"Not him", she whispered, touching his hands which were still on her face. "Others."

She was lying, and he knew.

"I see", Enver whispered back, then held her close again. "It's alright, okay? You can say no to me, Tav. I promise. You can always say no."

She glanced back at him, uncertain.

"Why?"

Gortash closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers.

"Because I know how that feels", he whispered, just as he did when he showed her his scars on his back.

Later that night, when he had her tucked in, holding her close and she fell asleep in his arms, he was staring at the ceiling as he was thinking about his next steps. Astarion can not be allowed to be in her presence again – except for one last time, when Gortash severed their contact at last. Astarion did not need to die; he was a powerful ally with resources Gortash could use, and, of course, he had a tadpole in his head that would make him an obedient thrall.

If he did not travel with Tav anymore… he wondered how he had resisted the voice of the Absolute, but he thought little of such small details. What mattered was that Astarion was a thorn in his side and a shadow in her past that still kept her in terror; she couldn't be his formidable warrior if such a man could send her shivering into his arms.

Astarion needed one firm shove that put him back in his place, which would make him forget Tav and would stop him from pursuing anything with her in the future.

And there was but one thing Gortash could do to make it happen.

It'd be risky; Tav will surely hate it, she might as well turn against him if he went through with that plan, but the risk was worth it to him. He glanced down at her; she had her head tilted up slightly, as if she had been looking at his face before she fell asleep. He thought of the horrors she went through and how she still could find peace with him; how she, even infected, with her free will, chose him over everyone else she knew. There were so many who were better than him in so many regards; how could he even deserve her?

The thought drowned in his mind as fast as it came to the surface. Of course he deserved her. Of course she was his and his alone. After all, he was a Banite; he deserved the best of the best of everything. And he knew he'd be the best for her, too. Both of them suffered enough until now; they deserved each other.

And if anyone wanted to step between them, well… the Black Hand of Bane would crush them.

End notes: Did you know that if you fail a persuasion check, the narrator says that Astarion hears you when you tell him to stop biting you, but he doesn't, because he's past the point to care? Yeah. I had that in mind.

[llamamamarisen92]

Larian won't let Durge and Gortash kiss... but I will...

Warning: Smut, NSFW, M/M, anoose action, explicit, super 18+, just a couple of gay men doing gay men things.

Johim is an insert for Durge. Not the typical dragonish durge. This is my own home brewed overly confident chaotically bisexual red headed half elf.

Gortash and Durge have a... productive business meeting.

The meeting between the three chosen had grown tense. The looks of dissatisfaction from Ketheric increasing as Johim and Gortash worked through their plot. Pointing at this place and that on the map as they figured out the major players they had to either entice or kill to further their cause.

Johim watched Ketheric from the corner of his eye. It wasn't his first choice to bring Myrkul's chosen into the fold. But it seemed Bhaal and Bane needed him for something. They never got a long. The generals little disagreements increasing by the day.

"Ketheric, if you're just going to sit there and pout you may as well go check what the kitchen has prepared for supper."

Ketheric's lip twitched into a snarl at the mockingly sweet tone.

He added further insult to injury as he leaned in with his hand cupped around his ear. "Hmm, what did you say? Nothing?"

Johim turned back and noted the warning in Gortash's eyes. He sighed heavily and continued to listen to Gortash as they mulled over the different paths they could take. Always three steps ahead. They worked together because it was commanded of them. But Johim was delighted to be in the presence of a mind that could keep up to his own.

Their ambitions grew each day as the pieces fell into place.

"You know, I heard that the Grand Duke's steward has tastes that are a bit more exotic. I could always… persuade some information out of him."

Ketheric scoffed, disgusted with the suggestion.

"What's wrong old man? Are you feeling sore because I have two working blades at my disposal?" Grinning as the old elf shifted uncomfortably.

"You act as if the world is merely your play thing. You cajole and seduce but I still have yet to see you sitting on a throne." Venom dripped from Ketheric's tone.

"Oh?" Johim stood up and sauntered over to Ketheric. He ran his fingers delicately along the old mans cheek as his lips were mere inches from his ear. "I'm not the only one here willing to whore himself out for a cause. How many gods has it been… one… two… or three?" Grasping his chin firmly in emphasis on the last word. He forced Kethric to look him in the eyes. All playfulness replaced by calm murderous intent.

"Stop this! We need to work together. If you continue to bicker like children nothing will get done." Gortash tried his best to reason with both men. Johim continued to hold Ketheric's chin, increasing the pressure. "Johim! Please. Stop!"

He pushed the old mans face away, getting up and moving back to his seat unhurried. He took note of the way Gortash's eyes were a bit more heavy lidded than they had been before, looking Bhaal's chosen up and down. A small smile curved at the side of Johim's mouth as he winked.

"Relax, Ketheric! Tomorrow we bring back your daughter. Maybe then you will be in better spirits." Johim's tone returning to it's playful lilt.

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

After dinner Gortash washed up before going to his rooms. He was endlessly fascinated by Bhaal's creature. He was not a mindless killer like so many of the murder god's spawn. He was a lion among men. Charming and playful. Domineering. Charismatic. When he entered a room everyone in it instinctively waited upon his every word. His every movement. Gortash was embarrassed to admit he was among those who found special delight in Johim's presence. Secretly of course.

He closed the door to his bedchamber and lit a candle to illuminate the dark surroundings. Nearly dropping the candle when he saw his partner in crime stretched across his bed.

His arms were crossed behind his head. Wearing nothing more than a loin cloth. Lean muscles glistening with oil that must have been newly applied. Gods he was a beautiful man. Kissed by the sun. A thousand freckles that lead his eyes to strong thighs and the impressive length hardening between them. He shook his head a bit, trying to shake the headiness that was taking over his thought process.

"You shouldn't be here."

Johim smiled lazily as he tilted his head to the side. That sharp amber eyed gaze never leaving Gortash's face.

"Why not?"

"It's not proper. We are business partners. Colleagues."

"Well, I have a particularly… delicious proposition for you tonight."

He couldn't keep the blush from his face as he tried to hide the effect this was having on him. He didn't have time to register how quickly Johim moved. Suddenly standing behind Gortash breathing deeply into his neck.

"Gods, I love the way you smell after you've been working in your shop." His arms wrapping firmly around Gortash's waste bringing him in closer.

Gortash was quickly losing control of the situation as the other man caressed the bare skin above his waist band.

"You've been working so incredibly hard, let me take care of you. Just for tonight." His lips pressed against the back of Gortash's neck. Opening his mouth so his tongue could caress the sensitive skin. His hand now slipping beneath the waste band.

Gortash knew this man would be his downfall. It's not as if he hadn't thought about it. And Johim had not been subtle about his interests. But all thoughts of breaking away left when he felt a strong hand gently wrap around his cock. He leaned into Johim at that moment, pressing his back against hard abs as he let him continue his ministrations until he to was fully hard.

Smirking, Johim moved his lips along Gortash's neck. Nibbling on his ear before he used his other hand to guide Gortash's face so that he could capture his lips with his own. Triumph flooding him as the Banite finally surrendered.

"Tonight, dear one, Bane will not be the only god that possesses your body." At that he firmly pressed Gortash forward until he was laying on his stomach across the bed. Gortash's eyes filled with a mix of desire and trepidation as Johim crawled between his legs, using his thighs to spread him wider.

Gortash's breathing grew heavier, grasping the sheets as pleasure coursed through his body. Johim grabbed the blade that was always strapped to him. His dagger which had been encrusted with one of the three netherese stones. He used it to slice into Gortash's pants before placing it down and ripping the fabric with with his bare hands.

A ferociously lustful smile wide across his face as Gortash was now bare beneath him.

Johim leaned forward so that his lips were mere inches from Gortash's ear before he lined himself up with Gortash's rear entrance. "I'll try to be as gentle as I can." And then he took Gortash in one thrust from behind, firmly wrapping his hand around to stroke Gortash's cock to the rhythm of his thrusts.

Gortash's cries of pleasure and pain carried deep into the night. Johim proving himself once more a conqueror of men.