#someone write this for me! post haste!

[doctorweebmd]

Katsuki having heart problems…… avoiding getting his heart rate up……. Oh the bkdk implications…..

[maximoff-pan]

the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.” 

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens. 

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too. 

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it. 

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.  

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to. 

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist. 

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband. 

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children. 

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington. 

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.  

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?” 

“How will you get it to her?” He questions. 

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it. 

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered. 

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her. 

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation. 

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way. 

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in. 

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you. 

“I never do.” Is your instant reply. 

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested. 

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion. 

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through. 

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.” 

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you. 

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.” 

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that. 

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.” 

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge. 

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak. 

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won. 

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot. 

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.” 

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong. 

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you. 

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.  

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column. 

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say. 

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym. 

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to. 

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n). 

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross. 

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you. 

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.  

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has. 

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so. 

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you. 

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now. 

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions. 

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well. 

We need to talk. 

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that. 

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her. 

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you. 

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.  

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too. 

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.” 

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm. 

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor. 

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing. 

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all. 

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

[witchywithwhiskey]

tempting fate in the CEO's office

pairing: father's business rival CEO!bucky barnes x female reader

summary: you visit your boyfriend in his office to show off your new lingerie, and you end up playing a reckless game when he hast to join a conference call—a call that your father will be on.

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, piv sex, creampie, cockwarming, dry humping, little bit of come play, light teasing, choking, light bdsm, semi-public sex, sex with the risk of being caught, exhibitionism, dirty talk, light degradation, praise kink, pet names (darling), unspecified age gap, fluff, established relationship

word count: 6,300ish

a/n: ok! this took me ages because i started writing it before moving and it was difficult to get back into it, but i'm pretty happy with how it turned out all things considered. this chapter is set in bucky's office because that was what won the poll i posted. it was fun to write, and i already started writing the next chapter, so i hope y'all enjoy!!

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

You’d done a lot of reckless things in your life—like wearing a dress with nothing underneath it to the park, or starting a secret relationship with your father’s biggest business rival—but walking into the busy lower Manhattan office building of CEO Bucky Barnes wearing nothing but a set of lingerie, a long trenchcoat and heels had to top the list.

Still, you didn’t feel any trepidation. Not even as the bottom hem of your jacket fluttered around your thighs, threatening to give anyone in the lobby a peak at the lacy undergarments you’d worn specifically for Bucky. But, though every step was a potential disaster—because if you did flash someone in the lobby your most intimate bits, it would surely get back to your father—you didn’t falter. 

The points of your heels clicked confidently against the marble floor of the lobby and a fearless smile curled your lips. You were having fun with your reckless behavior. Excitement and desire fizzled in your belly, making you feel like you were walking on air as you crossed the floor to the elevator bank that would take you up to the C-suite offices, where you knew Bucky would be.

While you rode the elevator, you couldn’t help but think about how Bucky would react when you walked into his office wearing only lingerie and a jacket. You could easily picture the way he’d look at you—his brilliant blue eyes darkening and his mouth curling into a smirk. And you couldn’t wait to tell him that he was the one to buy you the matching set. 

He’d given you his black Amex and told you to buy something pretty for yourself, despite the fact that you had plenty of money from your parents. You were your father’s daughter, after all, and he’s given you a generous allowance, even as an adult. But Bucky had insisted you spend his money for a change—so you decided you were going to insist he appreciate the pretty lingerie he’d paid for…while it was on your body.

Your smile deepened as the elevator doors slid open soundlessly and you walked into the lobby of the company’s C-suite, giddy excitement thrumming through your body. You couldn’t wait to see Bucky’s reaction to your outfit, but even more than that, you were excited to see your boyfriend.

It still felt a little strange to think of Bucky as your boyfriend. You’d known him as nothing more than your father’s hot business rival for so long, and your relationship was still so new and covert. Neither of you had told anyone about it yet. Everyone in both your circles of friends knew each other, and they all knew your father, so it was too risky. 

But Bucky was your boyfriend, and that knowledge made your heart beat faster in your chest, your smile widening even further.

You were still wearing your slightly goofy smile when you walked up to the desk where Bucky’s secretary sat. She was an older woman with kind eyes, and when you gave your name, recognition dawned in her expression. Her face creased with delicate crinkles as she offered you a genuine smile and waved you into Bucky’s office. 

As you were walking past, she made a comment that Bucky had given her strict orders to always allow you into his office. Your goofy, happy smile got even goofier and happier at that bit of information, and you pushed through the door into Bucky’s office.

The first thing that struck you about the space was how warm and cozy it felt despite the fact that two full walls were taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking New York City. The whole of Manhattan sprawled out at Bucky’s feet, and you couldn’t help but understand the city’s desire to do so. In your experience, being at Bucky’s feet was an enjoyable place to be.

You bit back a smirk as you looked around the office, taking in the dark wooden furnishings and gold accents. There were plush rugs beneath a small seating area off to one side and another under Bucky’s big desk, giving the space a homey feel that reminded you of his penthouse apartment. The office was professional, but it managed to feel like Bucky, and you couldn’t help but smile at that.

When you turned your attention to the CEO, you found him watching you as you took in his office for the first time. His blue eyes were sparkling and he had a pleased expression on his face.

“Darling,” Bucky rumbled as a greeting, a smile curling the corners of his mouth. 

He looked so handsome, wearing a slate gray suit with a black shirt beneath, the colors contrasting with his golden skin and dark brown beard. His blue eyes were two stars in the sky, and his mouth was a charming curve that made you ache to kiss him. 

When you didn’t respond—because you were too wrapped up in appreciating the attractiveness of your boyfriend—Bucky leaned back in his leather office chair. His eyes stayed fixed on you, his chin tilting up, and you couldn’t help but think he looked like a king lording over his court.

It made you want to kneel.

Instead, you murmured his name with a smile, “Jamie,” and strolled over to his desk, one hand playing with the belt of your jacket that was keeping it cinched around your waist. “I’m not interrupting, am I?” you asked innocently as you walked around his desk and stepped between his spread legs, your sassy smile making it clear you didn’t care if you were.

Bucky only seemed happy to see you, pushing closer in his chair so his hands could slip around the backs of your bare thighs, making you shiver as he murmured, “Never.” 

His head was tilted back a bit to meet your eyes, and his gaze was impossibly soft as he stared at you, making you feel hot and flustered all over—particularly between your thighs. To steady yourself, you slid your arms around his shoulders and ducked down to drop a kiss to his lips, smiling at the slight rasp of his beard. He tasted like coffee.

“Did you have a nice shopping trip?” Bucky asked, his voice quiet and warm in a way that made you want to melt into him. Your fingers idly played with the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck and his smile turned a little mischievous as he asked, “Did you buy yourself something pretty like I asked?” 

Impossibly, you’d forgotten the outfit you’d worn into Bucky’s office, but his question reminded you of the lacy lingerie that was hidden beneath your jacket. You smiled like the cat that got the cream and nodded at your boyfriend, fluttering your lashes at him as you asked a question of your own. 

“Do you want to see, Jamie?” You leaned back and played with the ends of the belt keeping your jacket tied tight around your body, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes dipped curiously down to your hands. 

His gaze heated, a grin spreading across his face as he slid his hands up from your thighs to your belt. He paused before untying it, flicking his eyes up to yours. When you nodded, Bucky slowly undid the knot, his fingers brushing against your bare skin as he parted the jacket to see what you’d been hiding.

The sharp breath Bucky sucked in when he saw the pretty lingerie you wore, your curves swathed in lace that he’d paid for, was immensely satisfying. Bucky pushed the trenchcoat off your shoulders and let it fall to pool at your feet while his eyes roved over your body like they couldn’t get enough. 

Then his hands seemed to be everywhere—brushing against the sides of your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your waist, groping your plush hips. He touch you greedily as his eyes seemed to devour your appearance, taking in the way the lingerie clung to your body, the way it framed your breasts and barely covered your mound. 

The blue of his eyes had darkened to the color of the ocean by the time he returned his gaze to yours. All he said was, “Darling,” his voice little more than gravel, as if he was overcome by the sight of you in your new matching set. Your breath caught in your throat at the emotion swirling in Bucky’s eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he rasped. 

A pleased heat spread through your chest, warming your cheeks, and you smiled happily at the sincerity in Bucky’s words. “Thank you, Jamie,” you murmured, ducking down to press another quick kiss to your boyfriend’s lips. 

But Bucky caught you around the back of your neck, murmuring, “C’mere,” before reeling you back in and deepening the kiss. He kissed you thoroughly, his hands sliding down your body to the backs of your thighs, and then he was pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his legs so you were straddling him in his leather chair.

So much of your bare skin brushed against Bucky’s suit, and though the fabric was soft, it was a reminder of how little clothing you were wearing. You shivered when Bucky’s fingers traced down your spine, pressing you flush to his chest, the lace of your lingerie teasing your nipples deliciously so that you whimpered into his mouth. 

By the time Bucky pulled away, your lips were swollen from his kisses and the wetness gathering between your thighs had dripped into your panties. When you squirmed on Bucky’s lap, rubbing your chest against his and enjoying the electric shocks of pleasure to your nipples, you felt his bulge press against your lace-covered core. You couldn’t help the little whine that escaped when you rubbed against the hot, hard length of him.

“Jamie,” you mewled, rocking against Bucky’s bulge, not caring in the least that his secretary was sitting just outside the office door. All that mattered was the way Bucky’s cock twitched when you whimpered his name.

“Darling,” Bucky groaned, pleasure soaking his tone—but there was a warning in his voice, too. When his hands grabbed your hips, he didn’t urge you on like you expected. He forced you to stop. You whined pitifully, leaning back to catch your boyfriend’s eye and pouting up at him. “I’m due on a call any minute,” he explained, a regretful look on his face.

You knew you should leave him to it. Bucky was a busy man, after all, and he needed to work—especially if he was going to buy you more expensive lingerie—which you hoped he would considering his reaction to seeing you in your new matching set. You knew it was still early in the afternoon and you should be content with the few moments you’d stolen of his time already.

But your reckless impulses were too loud to ignore, so instead of sliding off Bucky’s lap and putting your jacket back on, you pressed closer, your soft tits trapped against his hard chest. Your lips brushed the shell of Bucky’s ear as you leaned in, making him shudder beneath you.

“Why does that mean we have to stop?” you asked in a soft, sultry tone. Rolling your hips slowly, you rocked your lace-covered core against your boyfriend’s hard cock in a decadent drag that had both of you letting out little groans. “I’m all dressed up in the pretty lingerie you bought for me, why don’t you let me sit on your lap during your call.” 

You nipped at Bucky’s ear before pressing a kiss to his neck just beneath it, enjoying the rumble in his chest as he bit back a moan. 

“And since I’m on your lap, why don’t you let me keep your cock warm in my pussy—‘m so warm and wet for you, Jamie, and I promise I’ll be so quiet while you’re on your call.” 

Bucky chuckled, both of you knowing full well that you were lying, but he didn’t call you out on it like you expected. Instead, he went a different route, surprising you. 

“Are you sure, darling?” he purred, pressing a suckling kiss to the side of your neck that had your head tilting to the side to give him more access. You were so consumed by how good his soft mouth and rough beard felt against your skin that you almost missed his next words. “Every major CEO in the city is going to be on this call—including your father.”

You froze on Bucky’s lap, not even his mouth working against your neck distracting you from what he’d said. Despite your good sense—at least, what little was left of it with Bucky’s bulge pressing between your thighs—you knew you shouldn’t be thinking about tempting fate in a CEO’s office while he was on a call with your father and all their colleagues. But… Well, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t enjoy the thrill the the idea gave you.

And it was that side of you that prompted you to purr in your boyfriend’s ear, “I’m sure, Jamie,” as you melted back against his chest. A wicked smirk curled your lips as you issued a challenge to the CEO, “In fact, I’m sure that if one of us is going to give us away to my father, it won’t be me.”  

The chuckle Bucky let out was practically sinister, and your hips squirmed reflexively, grinding your wet slit against his hard cock through your clothes. You managed to hold back the soft moan that wanted to escape, and you were proud of yourself. But then Bucky issued a challenge of his own that had you scurrying.

“Well, then, you’ve got about five minutes to get my cock out, darling,” Bucky said, sounding like he relished giving you a deadline and making you hurry. “Or your sweet moans as I’m stretching out that tight little hole of yours are bound to give you away in an instant.”

Desire flushed hot through your body as you scrambled to reach between your bodies and undo Bucky’s pants. He leaned back in his chair and held your gaze, his blue eyes darkening when you pulled down his zipper, both of you smiling at each other. Reaching into his slacks, you pulled Bucky’s cock free, giving him a quick, appreciative stroke and nearly purring at the velvet-wrapped steel in your hand. 

“Hurry, darling,” Bucky drawled, an unrepentant smirk curling his mouth as his eyes went hooded. “Only a few minutes left before I join this call with your father.”

As you lined yourself up with Bucky’s cock, he reached for the phone on his desk. The robotic musical notes of his fingers dialing felt like a ticking clock and your heart beat faster in your chest. Hooking a finger around the lace covering your dripping slit, you pulled your panties to the side so you could sink down on your boyfriend’s hard length.

A loud, filthy moan squeezed free from your lungs, your head tipping back in bliss as you impaled yourself on Bucky’s perfect cock. It felt as exquisite as it always did, Bucky’s thick girth stretching out your tight little hole as he slid inside you. Your moan turned into a high keening sound as you pushed down further on him, the sound filling his office.

The rumble of Bucky’s laughter teased your ears, but as you lifted yourself up only to slide down further on his stiff length, the sound dissolved into a low groan. Lifting your head, you locked eyes with Bucky while you lowered yourself down on the final few inches of his cock, both of you watching each other as your expressions contorted in pleasure. It felt divine to share the moment with Bucky, and it was made all the sweeter with the impending call dangling over your heads.

Your boyfriend wrapped his hand around the front of your throat and reeled you in for a hot, messy kiss, shoving his tongue in your mouth and taking possession of you in a matter of seconds. His lips were demanding, his tongue forceful, and it made all thoughts flee from your mind. You were desire incarnate and you were consumed by the feeling of Bucky inside you, around you, everywhere.

By the time Bucky pulled away, you were panting for more, your hips rocking impatiently on his cock. But Bucky pressed a steadying hand to your lower back, urging you to still, and then he tapped a button on the phone on his desk, his voice drifting past your ear and sounding exactly as he normally did.

“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Bucky rumbled smoothly, sounding every bit like the polished CEO that he was. Meanwhile, you pressed your mouth against Bucky’s neck to muffle the heavy breaths that you were still dragging in, willing your heart to slow down from its excited pace. 

But as you calmed, you were able to take stock of your predicament. You were seated on Bucky’s lap, his cock buried in your cunt while you wore nothing more than lingerie and he was still dressed mostly in his suit. To make matters more complicated, he’d just joined a conference call that your father would also be on. You’d perhaps gone far past tempting fate in the CEO’s office, but you couldn’t bring yourself to regret the decisions that had led you to that moment.

Not when there was some fun to be had with your boyfriend. 

While the men on the call greeted each other and talked about their latest golf games, the state of the new Yankees season, and their families—in that order—you focused entirely on Bucky. Looping your arms tighter around his shoulders, you tucked your face into the crook of his neck. Your mouth found the pulse point at the side of his throat, just above the collar of his shirt, and you began sucking softly on the spot that you knew would drive him wild before long.

But then your father’s voice sounded from the speaker on Bucky’s phone—the all too familiar sound of him apologizing for being late—and your entire body clenched tight with surprise and more than a little deviant thrill. When your pussy clutched Bucky’s cock hard, it wrung a strangled sound from the boyfriend your father had no idea you had.

“Y’alright there, Barnes?” your father asked jovially, a tiny hint of the ire he actually felt toward his fellow CEO in his tone. Your father may have hated Bucky, but he knew how to keep up appearances. Mostly.

However, if he ever found out about your relationship with Bucky… You shuddered to think about it.

“Yeah,” your boyfriend responded easily, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your lower back that had you relaxing in his arms. “Just some whiskey down the wrong pipe.”

You bit your lip to suppress the urge to make a snarky remark about taking his cock down your pipe and instead listened as the men on the call all chuckled good-naturedly. Your father’s jocular tone cut through the din as it subsided.

“Hope you’re not getting sick, Barnes,” he said, sounding friendly enough. But there was an undercurrent of malice in his words that made it sound like he was actually hoping for the opposite. Then, as you wondered whether everyone on the call could hear the antagonism in your father’s voice, he dropped all pretenses as he commented, “Though I suppose you don’t have to worry about a girlfriend or wife nagging you to get some rest.” He paused for a moment, like he was relishing his next jab. “You can just call one of your bimbos to take care of you, maybe they’ll take pity on you and give you a discount on their hourly rate.” 

It took every ounce of your self-control not to groan at your father’s comment, but it seemed at least some of the other CEOs on the call didn’t have as tight a grip on their willpower. Frustrated huffs and annoyed groans sounded from the speaker, and you could’ve sworn you hear someone mutter, “Not this again.”

You nearly snorted at the comment, but kept quiet, kissing Bucky’s neck in reassurance that you didn’t take your father’s words to heart. The decision to keep your relationship a secret from your father was one you’d made together, and you knew those kinds of comments were par for the course for Bucky. After all, he was a hot, rich and presumedly single CEO. Of course your father would make an insinuation that he paid for sex. 

But Bucky wasn’t ruffled in the slightest by your father’s dig. If anything, he sank deeper into his plush leather office chair, one of his hands resting possessively against your lower back. Your lips curled and you smirked against Bucky’s neck, nuzzling into him as you felt his cock shift inside you. You squeezed him with your inner walls and he let out a nearly silent snort before responding to your father.

“Don’t worry about me, chief,” he drawled, a little bit of patronizing humor in his tone, especially when he used the nickname to mock your father. “I’m well taken care of.” Bucky’s hand smoothed up and down your spine, making you purr softly in his ear. You could hear the pleased smile in his tone as he went on. “By the way, how’s the family?”

You nearly choked on a laugh, biting down on Bucky’s shoulder through his jacket and shirt to muffle the sound, as your father grumbled and grudgingly muttered, “They’re fine, Barnes, thank you for asking.” His voice was so stiff, and he was so clearly disappointed Bucky hadn’t risen to his bait, that he was clearly trying to save face in front of all the other CEOs. 

You smirked to yourself, leaning up so you could murmur in Bucky’s ear, “Mm, some of us are much better than fine.” Your voice was barely a whisper so you knew the men on the call wouldn’t hear, but Bucky squeezed your hip in warning, which only made you snicker softly. In retaliation, you clenched your pussy around his cock, making your boyfriend grunt quietly.

Bucky’s other hand wrapped around your throat and he gently pushed you back until you were able to see his face. You’d half expected him to be glaring at you for trying to get him to make a noise that would get the attention of the call, but you should’ve known your boyfriend better—he was just as reckless as you. 

Instead of a glare, Bucky’s expression was one of amusement, his blue eyes dancing with mischief and his mouth curved into a smirk that you wanted to lick right off his face. “You’re playing with fire, darling,” Bucky mouthed, but there was no real warning in his words. If anything, it made you want to try harder to get him to make a sound that would get the attention of the other CEOs.

As the business part of the conference call finally began, Bucky made a show of settling back into his chair, reclining his head and giving you a challenging look. An impish smile curled your lips and you rolled your hips. You watched Bucky’s eyes droop in pleasure, his mouth falling open on a silent moan, and a shiver raced down your spine as you began riding his cock. 

You’d intended to torture him by slowly rising up and sinking back down on his hard length, but your boyfriend looked too delicious just sitting there with that smirk on his face. You ducked forward, flicking your tongue against the corner of his mouth, biting back a moan as you tasted him. His beard rasped against your tongue and a burning need flared to life in your chest. You trailed your mouth along his jaw, biting into his beard like you wanted to devour him whole. 

All the while, you rocked your hips as fast as you dared, which wan’t nearly fast enough. Bucky felt good inside you, but your every movement, your every breath was restrained. It made everything hotter, but it also meant you couldn’t truly let yourself give in to the pleasure of him. 

You needed more, you needed Bucky to fuck you. 

Whimpering into Bucky’s beard to muffle the sound, you whined his name in the quietest voice you could manage, “Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hand slipped around the front of your throat, his fingers digging into the sides in a way that made you clench around his cock, your lips parting in a silent moan. Pressing his mouth to your ear, he growled, “Hush, darling, or do you want me to make you be quiet?”

It took you the briefest of seconds to answer his question, your hips bouncing on his lap as you chanted, “Make me, sir, make me.”

“Perfect, filthy girl,” Bucky rumbled in your ear moments before he was standing up and laying you down on his desk as soundlessly as possible. 

All the men on the conference call heard were the rustling of papers, which you knew wouldn’t be out of place, and you had to bite your lip to stop from giggling. Your head was close to the speaker phone and you glanced at it before looking back at Bucky, a challenge in the way you narrowed your eyes and smirked at him. 

Your boyfriend grinned and mouthed the words, “Be quiet, darling,” before pressing a finger to his lips. Then he pulled his hips back and slammed forward, burying his cock in your slick cunt so forcefully, you had to slap both your hands over your mouth to stop from moaning. 

Between one breath and the next, Bucky’s hand was around your throat, pinning you to the hard wooden desk beneath you, his fingers squeezing into the sides of your neck and cutting off all any sound that could even think to dare escaping your lips. Your eyes popped open and you stared up at your boyfriend, spreading your legs wide so he could push deeper into your cunt, the tip of his cock grinding against a spot inside you that made you gush with arousal.

Your face was slack with pleasure, your mouth hanging open as you sucked in tiny, silent breaths, your eyes heavy-lidded as you kept your gaze fixed on Bucky above you. He felt so good inside you, so perfect, his hand around your throat choking you and heightening every sensation in your body.

When you heard Bucky’s name come through the phone, you nearly wailed in protest that someone would try to steal your boyfriend’s attention from you. But Bucky never relented, never stopped fucking you or choking you, slowly pushing you toward your release while he responded to the men on the phone with an even voice. You were too far gone to pay attention to what was being said, but Bucky seemed to know what he was saying, so you left him to it and instead focused on the unrelenting pleasure of his cock.

Eventually, you registered that Bucky was offering his farewells to the CEOs on the other end of the line, and you realized the conference call was coming to an end. If you’d been able to make any sound, you would’ve squeaked happily. Bucky reached across your body and hung up the phone. 

Then your boyfriend was curling over you, his face close to yours, his expression twisting into one of depraved delight as he started pounding into you harder, faster, fucking you ruthlessly on his desk. 

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” he growled, the arousal in his voice making him sound even more gravelly than normal. “Did you enjoy getting fucked on my desk while every CEO in New York City—including your father, who hates me—was on the phone?”

Bucky’s hand around your throat relented enough for you to speak, but you didn’t have any words left in your brain. Not when you could hear the wet sounds of your cunt while he fucked you. All you could do was moan, long and loud, the sound swirling around the two of you and filling the massive space of the luxurious office.

“You’re a temptress, the filthiest fucking girl I’ve ever met,” Bucky rasped, dragging his mouth along your jaw and nipping at your skin as he fucked you harder, grinding against your clit with every thrust. “You’re fucking perfect—you were so good for me, darling, taking my cock so well and staying so quiet for me.”

“Jamie,” you whined, carding your fingers through his soft brown hair and tugging his mouth to yours for a messy kiss. “Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you babbled into his mouth, sucking on his tongue and driving him to pound into you relentlessly while you whimpered at how good it felt to finally make some noise. 

“I know, I know,” Bucky rumbled in a warm, pleased tone, and you felt him smirk against your cheek. “My cock feels so good in your tight cunt, doesn’t it, darling?” He rocked into you, hitting that spot inside you and grinding against your clit at the same time, making you cry out sharply. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, chuckling huskily in your ear. 

If it didn’t feel so good, you might’ve hit him, but the pleasure coiling tight in your body had you too wound up to care. Thankfully, your boyfriend had no interest in making you wait to come. In fact, he was eager for it as well.

“Mm, you’ve been so good for me,” Bucky rumbled, keeping up that impossibly perfect pace of his thrusts. “Come on my cock, darling, want to feel you milking me with your perfect pussy.”

His words washed over you at the same moment that he thrust deep inside and you were helpless to resist the pleasure. Your release crashed over you, Bucky’s hand squeezing your throat in time to choke off the scream that wanted to be let loose. Instead, your mouth opened wide on the silent sound and your body clenched tight, your back arching up off the desk as wave after wave of pleasure consumed you. 

“That’s it, darling, fuck,” Bucky growled, fucking you through your release, his voice going tight as your cunt clenched down hard on his cock. “Gonna come deep in this perfect pussy, and send you home with my come dripping into your new panties,” he rumbled, his thrusts turning wild as he rutted into your still fluttering core. “You’re gonna wait for me in my penthouse, and when I get home, I’m fucking you again in your pretty new lingerie. Gonna show you how much I love seeing you covered in lace and dripping my come.”

Impossibly, your deeply satisifed body tightened in excitement at your boyfriend’s words, and you suddenly couldn’t wait for what he promised. The fact that you’d never been to his penthouse without him was the furthest thing from your mind in that moment. 

“Jamie,” you cried softly before you pulled him down for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around the backs of his thighs and you held him inside you so he could only grind into your cunt. The sounds your bodies made were lewd and obscene, but they were drowned out by the pleasured moans coming from your mouths as you devoured each other.

A moment later, Bucky wrenched free from your mouth as he came with a loud groan. His cock twitched inside you while he filled you up with his warm, sticky come, and all you could do was smile dazedly. Your bodies writhed together as you eked out as much pleasure from your releases as possible, your mouths finding each other again and kissing to muffle your whimpers and groans. 

Together, you caught your breath, and finally settled. Bucky pulled back to stare down at you, a pleased smirk curling one side of his mouth. Then he leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, lazy kiss. You grabbed his face and held him close, kissing the hell out of him while his cock softened inside you.

As you continued making out on your CEO boyfriend’s desk, you heard Bucky open and close a drawer. But it wasn’t until he pulled away and held up a key that you saw what he’d procured from the drawer. You stared at the little scrap of metal, the magnitude of what it meant making you suddenly uncertain. 

You gave Bucky a questioning look. He smiled affectionately down at you, brushing a kiss to your cheek before explaining. 

“It’s a key to my penthouse,” he said, his voice soft and gentle. “I want you to have it.”

Your eyes widened when he confirmed your suspicions, and though you wanted to reach for the key, you held back. “Are you sure, Jamie?” you asked, trying and failing to hide the waver in your voice. You tried to cover it up by barreling on, “We haven’t even told anyone we’re together.” When Bucky just watched you patiently, you tried for a joke. “What about all your bimbos?”

As soon as the words were past your lips, you wanted to take them back, and you slapped a hand over you mouth as if you could actually stuff the question back into your mouth. It shamed you that you’d repeated your father’s dig at Bucky, but before you could apologize, your boyfriend was carefully prying your hand away from your mouth so he could press a sweet kiss to your lips.

“You and I both know there never have, and never will be any bimbos in my life,” Bucky murmured, pressing his forehead to yours. He was so close, you had to close your eyes, which was a relief because there were suddenly tears swimming in them. “You also know that we decide how we want our relationship to move forward and when we want to tell our families.” He let out a soft exhale. “If you want to tell them before we take this step, just say the word, darling.”

With your eyes closed and Bucky’s warm skin pressing against yours, his familiar and comforting scent filling your nose, you let yourself think about it. You knew you’d have to tell your father about your relationship with Bucky eventually. After all, every time you pictured your future, he was a part of it. But you weren’t quite ready yet. You were still having too much fun with just you and Bucky knowing about your relationship.

“Not yet,” you said, your voice barely a whisper. 

“OK,” he said before giving you a reassuring kiss. “Will you take the key?”

You gave Bucky’s question the thought it deserved and realized you liked the idea of having a key to his place. There were nights when you couldn’t see him because you’d already gone home to your brownstone in Brooklyn before he’d gotten out of a late meeting. If you had a key to his place—and carte blanche from his secretary to go into his office—then you could see him whenever you wanted.

You liked that idea. You liked that idea a lot. 

But, because you were you, you couldn’t give Bucky a simple answer. So instead, you said, “I don’t really have a lot of pockets in this outfit.” 

Bucky pulled back and you opened your eyes to find your boyfriend grinning down at you, happiness sparkling in his blue eyes. You watched as those eyes darkened while he tucked the key into your bra. When the cool metal brushed against your nipple, you gasped quietly, your body clenching lightly around his half-hard cock. 

“Your new lingerie is pretty and comes in handy, darling,” Bucky commented lightly, bending down to kiss you as he eased himself from your body. He swallowed your groan, then stood up and smoothed your panties back over your pussy. He stared hungrily at the juncture of your thighs and you wondered if your combined releases were already leaving a wet spot. 

Before you could ask, Bucky shook himself and he turned his focus to helping you up from his desk. He made sure the key stayed securely in your bra, tweaking your nipple in the process, then stooped to grab your jacket. He held it open for you to step into, then tied the belt tightly around your waist. Last, he pulled you in for a kiss.

“I’ll be back this evening,” he murmured against your lips. “Make yourself at home, darling.” His words were nearly a purr and you shivered in delight at just how much you enjoyed hearing them. 

You were excited to spent the rest of the afternoon luxuriating in everything Bucky’s penthouse had to offer—maybe you’d even ask the concierge for some ice cream and cones—but when you pulled away from your boyfriend, you suddenly felt bereft. Your heart panged in your chest and you gave Bucky a bittersweet smile.

“It won’t feel like home until you get there,” you said softly, pushing up onto your tiptoes to kiss him. “So hurry home, Jamie.” 

Bucky’s hands flexed on your hips, like he was struggling to let you go, but finally you eased away from him and his hands dropped to his sides. Reluctantly, you turned and began walking across Bucky’s office. At the door, you paused and looked back. 

Bucky was still staring at you like he didn’t want to let you leave, but you’d both had enough of tempting fate in the CEO’s office for one afternoon. You gave him one last smile and waved, the key to his penthouse warming against your skin as you slipped out. You comforted yourself with the knowledge that you’d get to see Bucky later. 

As you walked past Bucky’s secretary’s empty desk to the elevator, all you could think was that you had a key to your boyfriend’s apartment. You had a key to your boyfriend’s penthouse apartment—and you couldn’t wait for him to come home to you that night.

Maybe, eventually, he’d come home to you every night.

tempting fate in the park (part 1)

tempting fate on the terrace (part 2)

tempting fate in the CEO's office (part 3)

[101maverick]

Damian Wayne Ah Ghul with a reader who is super shy? Like she meets his family and she's practically hiding behind Damian? No pressure, but I'm just a naturally shy person myself.

A/n: I've been thinking of a meeting like this for a while now! tho in my daydreams the reader is a lot more bubbly and stuff, but this one is super fun too! I think I might write them both out :) When it comes to Damian I tend to envision him around his canon age (12ish I think?) because it gives me agency to explore puppy love and I find it so cute! Plus I'm a sucker for school shenanigans hehe🤭 Here Damian is around 15-16 :) Hope you enjoy!! If you like my work, please consider reblogging and checking out my other works through the master list in my pinned post<3

Word count: 1642

Meeting the Family

Your hands are clammy.

Not even overtly so, just enough to make you uncomfortable, to get that unbearable out-of-place sensation one always gets when something's slightly wrong and it feels like life has decided to point a spotlight to it.

You nervously adjust your dress' skirt, fiddling with the hem to make sure it sat at just the right height. You had spent an embarrassing amount of time picking it out, having Damian come by your house earlier than necessary to make sure your choice was appropriate for this occasion, along with your hair and what little makeup you had decided to put on.

He had assured you countless times that you 'could never be anything less than far above standard' , and while that did put you at ease you still have to do your best to relax as you build up the courage to enter the house, Damian waiting by your side.

You and Damian had started 'dating' around three months ago now, and this was your first time meeting his family.

Whenever you think back to how he proposed to you a chuckle curls your lips upward, remembering how out of your depth you felt as he announced his intent of 'courting' you while he held a baby kitten out to you.

The memory loosens you up a bit, and you nod to Damian, who rings the doorbell. He's been holding your hand the whole time, something you find extremely sweet. He gives your hand a squeeze.

Sooner than you'd like, the door opens and you are greeted by the Wayne family's butler, who your boyfriend had informed you is basically like a grandfather figure for them.

He’s an older man, standing tall in a prim and creaseless suit despite his age. His eyes crinkle as the corners of his mouth uptick just the slightest bit, remaining composed as he greets you two.

“Ah, Master Damian, you have finally returned with our guest I see.” He says, looking at your boyfriend. He then turns to you. “My name is Alfred Pennyworth. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, miss…” he trails off.

You can feel your cheeks burn up, and your tongue tangles up as you haste to give him your name. You try to downplay the stutter as much as you can, and rush through the rest of greetings and pleasantries. “It is very nice to meet you as well, mr. Pennyworth.”

Mr. Pennyworth just nods curtly and opens the door wider, making space for you and Damian to enter. "I am glad, miss. Please, follow me to the sitting room." After a nod from Damian, he turns around and starts walking down the hallway to the left of the grand staircase the Manor's foyer opens up to.

The ceiling is extremely tall in this part of the house, two stories high at the very least. The ancient mahogany of the staircase is intricately carved, and the deep, rich blue-green carpet covering the steps gives the entire ensemble a much more regal look, with the way it matches the curtains that are pulled apart to let in all the midday light from the six-feet tall arch windows. It feels way too regal for someone like you.

Damian, on the other hand, looks completely in his element. Not only is this his house, he just fits in with this sort of environment, this regal, sophisticated, high-class one. The blue-green of the curtains and carpets makes the emerald of his eyes pop, and the dark mahogany compliments his tanned skin, reflecting the golden glow of the sun.

Looking at him, you feel a bit surer of yourself, and you straighten your shoulders to match his stance. You're just meeting his family. You can do this.

Mr. Pennyworth leads you to the sitting room. Damian's entire family is lounging there, the majority sitting up while a few rest on the plush couches and chairs. The moment you step foot in the doorway, all conversation stops and all eyes turn toward you.

You can't do this.

————————————

Each of the Wayne family members are here, it seems, and the more you stand there the more you want to crawl out of your skin.

All of these people have been gathered here today for a family lunch because you have come over, and dang if that doesn't make you feel like the inconvenience of the year.

Only a fool doesn't know about how important each of them is, and you certainly aren't one.

Richard "Dick" Grayson, world-class acrobat and notorious heartthrob since his teens, and he surely has better places to be today than here. Keeping up with all of his connections is basically a full-time job, with how Gotham socialites are.

Jason Todd, recently come back from his years-long trip around the world, could be playing golf with the Prince of England right now instead of meeting his youngest brother's high-school girlfriend.

Timothy Drake, at nineteen is C.E.O. of Drake Industries and Bruce Wayne's representative for Wayne Enterprises, right now he could be closing billion-dollar business deals.

Duke Thomas, had graduated from high school at sixteen and at eighteen is in the most prestigious chemistry program in the Continent, he could be studying for the cure of cancer right now.

Cassandra Cain, Bruce Wayne's only daughter and an extremely elusive person for the media, you're sure she'd much rather a virtual stranger wasn't snooping around in her family's home.

There are also two other people, a red-haired woman that looks to be around Dick Grayson's age and a blonde girl around nineteen.

And, of course, there's Bruce Wayne in the flesh. Billionaire, philanthrope, C.E.O. of Wayne Enterprises, arguably the most important person in Gotham and certainly the richest person in New Jersey. One of his charities is always in sight every time you turn a corner on the street in Gotham Proper, his company's name is plastered on almost every single electronically device you can find, and his name is always in the mouth of the press, making headlines day in-day out.

Oh Gosh, you can already imagine it. 'Lowly peasants thinks she can date his son, Brucie Wayne obliterates her and her dynasty'.

Before you know it, your breathing has become laboured and you're standing pressed to Damian's side, trying to fuse with his shadow.

You have no idea how you're gonna hold a conversation with all of these people.

Damian, bless him, saves you. "If you all could quit ogling my beloved like imbeciles, we could go on with introductions." His chin is held up high, and he takes turns staring into each of his family members' eyes, as if daring them to object. With the way he's standing, his body almost covers you, giving you a blanket of security that allows you to relax.

The rest of the room's occupants regain their composure, and Mr. Wayne breaks out into a blinding smile, coming up to you.

"Pardon me! We just hadn't heard you coming down the hallway is all. It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Mr. Wayne holds out his hand, and you shake it. His grip is gentle. "Come in, please, make yourself comfortable."

Damian guides you to a couch next to which is a window. The rays of sun catch in his dark hair, reflecting almost-blue. He looks at you, and as he does so you relax. Damian may rarely show it but he has an extremely expressive face, and you have learned to read it.

Right now you read sureness in his jaw, calmness in the set of his brow and something warm and reassuring in the slightest widening of his eyes, the one that happens specifically when e tilts his head downwards to fix his gaze better in yours.

"I must admit I've been waiting for this moment for a good while, I was very curious. Damian has talked a lot about you."

Your eyebrows raise. You start fidgeting with Damian's hand in your lap. "Oh, he-he has?" It comes out as a mumble. You'd beat yourself up over it in normal circumstances but as it stands, you're just glad you are talking at all.

This thought is overshadowed by an eruption of laughter from further inside the room.

"Oh yes he has, the brat has been talking our ears off all day for months! By how he talks, he thinks you've hung the moon and the stars in the night sky." A cackle follows the sentence. You're pretty sure your cheeks are on fire.

Next to you, you notice the tips of Damian's ears turn darker. "Quit your complaining, Todd. It is not my fault if everything you do is subpar compared to her every action."

"Da-Damian!" You whisper-yell next to him, "You can't just say that!"

"Oh, don't worry," Pipes up someone from a chair. You recognise him as Timothy Drake. "Seeing as you've put up with him for months, I think we all believe it. It takes the patience of a saint to do that." He says, a slight smirk on his face.

The rising of cackles in the air and the indignant squawk from Damian pull a little giggle from you, and you squeeze Damian's hand while Dick Grayson placates him.

Mr. Pennyworth, who had disappeared down the hallway after you had reached the sitting room, reappears at the entrance. 1679

“Masters, Misses, the lunch is ready. If you may follow me to the dining room…”

“Thank you Alfred.” Says Mr. Wayne, and after a curt nod from the butler everyone files out of the sitting room.

As you take your place next to Damian at the dining table, listening to Damian and Timothy bicker, you feel more at ease than you ever hoped of feeling while waiting on the front steps.

Your hand is warm in Damian’s still.

————————————

A/n: I wish I had been able to put more Damian/Reader interaction in this but in order for it to work in my vision of their eventual relationship I need them to be alone so unfortunately it couldn't happen for this pic :( I do have more Damian x Reader requests in my inbox tho so there's a high chance I'll be able to expand on it! Plus I'm considering making a list of head canons for Damian and Reader's relationship >:)

[beezhives]

currently thinkin' about ;;

sensei Midoriya Izuku who is just a normal amount obsessed with you. truly, it's the most normal amount of obsession and infatuation he's had with someone in a while.

now that he's a teacher, Midoriya doesn't have the proper time to analyze anyone but his students. sometimes, if he gets graced by the grading gods, he can review some of his former class' battles and send them his thoughts (they love when he does this!!).

speaking of those former class fights: Pinky and Cellophane managed to snare this petty criminal that had been getting a bit too bold to be just petty, with the help of an underground hero. not too high in the general rankings but loved by those who truly know them, you caught Midoriya's eye without even trying.

"yeah Midoriya! I've worked with 'em before, what's up?" Ashido's bubbly voice felt far too small through the phone, he couldn't help but hold it a bit more firm against his ear.

"it's just- well, I've got this student–" always the student excuse, "with a sorta similar quirk to theirs. I think. and- y'know, I was just wondering if you could get me in contact with them?"

even without being face-to-face, Ashido can see the puppy dog eyes he's unintentionally making.

imagine the look of utter shock on your poor receptionist's face when he knocks on the door to your office holding a slightly crumpled sticky note, jaw slack, eyes slightly wide.

"what is it, what's wrong?" you ask almost immediately, standing up from your spot and making your way to him.

"how the hell do you know Deku?" are the words that choose to fall from his poor mouth, sticky note pressed against his chest.

"I don't?" you ask, tilting your head only slightly to verify that you, in fact, have no contact with the symbol of hope. "I don't. What- what is it? What's going on?"

with a defeated sort of sound, your receptionist offers the crumpled green post-it note out to you. on it, written in haste with blue ink, sits a phone number. and an email. and a fax number. and, for safe measure, the number for the UA office.

"what?"

"yeah, Midoriya Izuku called and talked to me," he begins to explain, to the best of his ability. "wanted me to relay that to you. he said so many numbers in a row, I hope they're all right!"

safe to say, at least one of the numbers was right as he promptly invited you out to get coffee the next week. off duty, he insisted, and on a weekend, you insisted.

he's only obsessed with you the normal amount. even if it wasn't the normal amount (for him), there wouldn't be a notebook big enough for the things he wants to write about you.

♡ any likes or shares would be appreciated. thank you for reading, see you later. ☁︎

[streetlightyeri]

false god ; boone

“i know heaven’s a thing, i go there when you touch me.”

[aka, boone is good at using a camera for more than just storm chasing]

w.c: 3444

warnings: 18+ MDNI. smut (oral, piv, breath play? in the lightest sense of the word, bandana used as gag).

notes: no beta, not even proofread lol i just needed to post this, i'll come back and edit at a later time. this is a piece from my wip about boone for my twisters/zach bryan song fic series (scott's is in progress as well a part two for "oklahoma smokeshow" for tyler). this was supposed to be fluff, slice of life moment, idk what happened <3 and as always, the fmc has a name but no descriptors bc i cannot personally write in 2nd person

-

She surprised him while they were on a chase. She was going to be in the state for no more than a few hours - when he headed out tomorrow she would be too. But she was able to get the information of where the crew was staying from Dani with the promise she would keep her mouth shut about it. Dani must’ve talked Tyler into letting them crash at a nicer place for the night because instead of a motel that Rowan was sure would give her hives, she pulled up to a very respectable 3 star chain hotel. She made a mental note to buy that girl whatever her heart desired.

Rowan pulled her hood closer around her neck and her hat farther down onto her head. She locked her vehicle behind her, keeping her head down as she walked to the side entrance Dani propped open for her. Once she made it in, she kicked the rock out the door jam and made her way to the elevator.

Rowan tried to calm her nerves as the elevator rose to the 4th floor. Her heartbeat picked up once the doors opened. She followed the signs to room 435. It was a corner room. Now Rowan was certain Dani had roped everyone into the plan; otherwise, a room like this would’ve been a coin toss or a game of pulling straws to see who got it. Her face burned at the thought.

But nevertheless, she knocked on the door. Boone’s voice came from the other side. “Yeah?” He was expecting someone from the team to respond, but heard nothing. He called out again. Rowan knocked in response.

She heard shuffling before the sound of the lock clicking. When the door swung open, she looked up, met with the sight of her boyfriend dressed in the same clothes he must’ve been wearing that day: jeans, a wifebeater, and a bandana tied around his neck. She could see his camo button down discarded on the end of the bed and his hat on the nightstand. A smile grew across her face as the moment started to click for him. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her into the room, double checking no one was lurking in the hallway before shutting the door. He turned the lock again and also flipped the deadbolt now that she was here.

When he turned back to her, he nearly tackled her onto the floor, throwing her hat to some corner of the room. But he managed to get his bearings before they lost their balance. His lips found hers; she could feel his smile as he kissed her. He walked them to the bed, keeping his hand behind her head to absorb the impact as her knees bent and her back hit the mattress.

He paused to pull back and look at her again, making sure she was real. “Hi, baby.”

She let out a giggle. “Hi, Boone.”

He leaned down and kissed her again, but stopped when her hand came up and pushed his shoulder back slightly. He knit his brows when she patted the bed next to herself but complied. She sat up to be eye level with him. He couldn’t believe she was here; his hands found her hips, sliding up her sweatshirt to rub circles on her soft skin. She wasn’t any better; she was trying to find her words but the way he was looking at her with his big doe eyes, like she was the best thing he’d ever seen, was making her brain short circuit. A haste kiss from him jump started her again.

“I have a . . . gift, of sorts, for you.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Is you being here not it?”

Rowan felt her cheeks heating up, her hands dropping from playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. She stood up and walked to her duffle bag she discarded blindly when he tackled her. She reached in and brought out the small box she wrapped in a haste and walked back over to him, leveling him with a serious gaze. “No one can know about this. Absolutely no one.”

“What is it, baby?”

“Promise me you will never show anyone this. Ever. No matter what.”

“I promise.”

She sat back down and handed him the box. He made quick work with the paper, his jaw dropping when he saw the picture on the side of the box: a camcorder. Nothing fancy, absolutely no bells and whistles. But Boone always had a thing for cameras. He’d started messing around with them back when he was enrolled in community college, fresh out of high school, still trying to figure out what the hell he wanted to do with his life. There was nothing more exciting to him than getting the perfect shot.

“You know how hesitant I’ve been about, uh,” she cleared her throat, “filming. But I thought about it. With something like this, there’s no cloud it gets uploaded to, no internet required. Nothing anyone can hack. It’s not the best quality, but it was the best I could find that I was comfortable with.”

He dropped the box on the bed next to him and grabbed her head in his hands; they were so large his fingertips met at the back. “Rowan, baby, please tell me you know I am fine with never recording us? I don’t want you to feel pressured. I let go of that fantasy a while ago. If you’re not comfortable with it, then it isn’t hot anymore.”

She nodded through his grip. “I know.”

He kissed her again, letting go of her with a whoop of excitement before he opened the tape on the box with his pocket knife. He pulled out the recorder and inserted the SD card, flipping open the screen, taking a sweep of the room. He played around with the settings, adjusting it for the room’s lighting. He was so confident in his knowledge of the camera. In seconds he got it looking more like 720p instead of the 480p she saw when using it in the store.

He flipped the screen so he could see himself as he recorded. He introduced himself to his imaginary audience while Rowan rested her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his torso. He used his free hand to run a hand down her hair. He lowered the camera to capture her face for a second. “And this is my beautiful girlfriend.” He pressed a kiss to her temple. “She is the reason I have this camera. I think she’s embarrassed, but don’t worry, I’ll get her used to showing her face.”

She pulled back and hit his shoulder with a laugh while he winked at the camera. He flipped the screen and turned to film her, catching the perfect angle where the setting sun cut through the curtains to leave a beam running across her face. “She loves me so much she surprised me. Can’t believe she kept this a secret.”

“I was so close to spilling! You kept texting me about how much you missed me! And I had to lie that I wasn’t in Oklahoma. I even had Dani working with me to cover it up. I would send photos from the view outside my apartment that I’d been saving up for her to show you. I was scared you’d get suspicious when I kept refusing to FaceTime.”

He laughed from behind the camera. “You are a terrible liar.”

She faked a gasp, “Take that back!”

He smirked, “I think I can think of a way to make it up to you.”

She pulled her legs to her chest and looked straight at the lens of the camera, “Well then, why don’t you show me?”

He deposited the camera on the nightstand, throwing his hat elsewhere to make sure he had enough space to get the entire bed in the frame. One he was certain they’d be visible, he tore his shirt off and made quick work of hers. He lifted her bridal style to put her correctly on the bed. He untied his bandana and tied it around her neck; he liked seeing her wear it. He hovered over her on his arms, his hair and gold chain dangling into her face. She felt her face and chest flush. No matter how many times they found themselves like this, Rowan always felt like Boone was admiring her like a precious stone.

He shifted his weight and used his right hand to run his thumb over her red cheek. “God you’re so beautiful, baby.”

He undid her bra and he moved to sit on his haunches, admiring her from above. Her chest rose and fell as his brown eyes raked over her entire frame, leaving her skin burning in their wake. His calloused hands ghosted over her waist so lightly, her body jerked from the tickling sensation. His two index fingers ran under the waistband of her jean shorts; his eyes flickered up to her for permission. She kept her eyes stilled on him as she nodded. His eyes flickered over to the camera; he could see her side angle perfectly, surrounded by plush sheets while he hung over her.

“Is the camera okay?”

She nodded again, not looking at it.

“Need words, baby.”

She opened her mouth but hesitated. In seconds, he had the camera in his hand, about to snap the screen shut and stop the recording. Her hand reached up and wrapped around his wrist. “It’s okay, Boone.”

He shook his head. “No. You’re tense. We’re not doing it if you’re not 100% with it.”

She tightened her grip on his wrist when he tried to turn it off again. “I am. I promise. If you’re okay, I am. I’ll get used to it.”

He hesitated. He didn’t want her doing this for him.

“If I wasn’t comfortable with it, I wouldn’t have bought the camera.”

“You’re allowed to change your mind, no matter who bought the camera.”

She moved to intertwine her fingers with his, bringing his knuckles down to kiss them. “I’ll tell you if I change my mind.”

He pursed his lips, “Promise?”

She smiled up at him, “Promise.”

She helped him set up his perfect angle again before he rided her of her shorts and underwear. His hands ran up and down her side, taking count of every inch of skin. He rememorized every mole and freckle. His lips found hers again, making his way slowly down her neck, shoulder, the valley of her breasts while his finger twisted at her nipples. She felt him smirk against her skin when she gasped, hands reaching out to grip the sheets. He left bites on the smooth skin of her stomach, a place he was often drawn to. A place he could mark that no one would know.

When he made it between her thighs, he groaned. “There’s my girl.”

Rowan bit her bottom lip to stifle the sound that brought out of her.

Boone’s hands tightened on her hips; she could feel each finger digging into her skin. He pressed sloppy, wet kisses to the inside of her thighs. Her toes curled in anticipation, legs locking to try and prevent them from tightening around his head. Not that he would’ve cared. He had spent weeks warming her up to the idea of sitting on his face so he could finally feast like he wanted. She would never forget the way he locked his muscular arms around her thighs to keep her core connected with his mouth while he ate her out like his life depended on it, like he wasn’t destroying her for any other man ever. 

When he finally connected his mouth to her cunt, he moaned into her, making a shiver run up her entire body as her hands moved to grip his hair. Her fingers twisted in his locks, making him let out another satisfied noise. His tongue reached out to lap at her core, taking in the sweet release and relishing in the taste. One hand moved to splay across her stomach, lightly opening and closing to keep her down and to scratch at her skin comfortingly; the other moved to leave bruises of his finger prints on her thighs before one finger, then two, then three pushed themselves into her. Her rapid breaths and whines filled the room as her hips jerked from the way he ate. While his fingers curled into the spot he knew made her see stars, his tongue circled her clit with unrelenting determination.

He glanced up at her, seeing her head thrown back with eyes screwed closed as he increased his pace. He knew he was doing good when he felt her body tensing up below him, her legs beginning to shake. She gave a hard tug on his hair when he pulled away and let out a stream of cold breath onto her clit before attaching his hot mouth back to it. She came with a cry of his name, tensing around him as her blood seemed to run through white hot fire. Her thighs clamped around his head, spurring him on to continue his feast as he rode her through her high. He managed to get his right hand free and bring it up to her mouth, tapping her lips which she opened without question. He shoved them in, so long he almost triggered her gag reflex. She instantly closed around them, sucking herself off of him while effectively silencing her from their neighbor’s ears. He used his thumb and pinky to grip her chin and turn her face to the camera. She whimpered when she saw how much of a mess she was, how much of a submissive puddle he turned her into without trying. The visual spurred her into another orgasm. When she finally came back to Earth, she let her legs go limp and released her boyfriend, much to his dismay.

He traced his lips back up to hers, pushing into her mouth. When he released their kiss, he left small pecks on her jaw, coming to her ear, “My favorite meal. Now my favorite show.”

She grabbed his jaw and brought him back to her lips where he lost himself for an unknown amount of time. He was achingly hard. Rowan ran her hand down his shoulders, past the scar on his ribs from when he got hit by a tree branch in the field, down his abs that he gained from always running from tornadoes, to run her hand over his length. She would never get used to it; he was the biggest she’d ever had, and he knew how to use it. He could bring her to tears without being fully seated in her. He had to coach her into taking deep breaths the first time they’d done it because she was so tense he couldn’t push in. Now, they knew the drill.

She pulled his belt off with one hand and discarded it somewhere in the room before popping his button. He discarded his pants and underwear off the bed, once again on his haunches, pumping himself in his right hand. Her hair was a messy halo around her, her skin shiny with sweat.

He lifted her legs to hang over his thighs, leaving her wide open for him to push into her without pain. His eyes flickered to the camera before coming back to hers; she nodded. He picked the camera up, and fixed the angle to where it was a clear shot of him entering her. With every inch he gave, her whimpers grew louder. “Bite down on the bandana for me sweetheart.”

She nodded blindly, biting down on the cloth that smelled exactly like him, like the cologne he wore that made her nearly stumble when she first met him. Her senses were clouded from anything else in the world. All that existed was him. The camera was an extension of him, like it always was.

When he was fully seated in, he gave a few long in and out thrusts, letting her adjust to his size before putting the recorder in its spot. When she gave him the nod that he was okay to move, he lifted one of her legs to rest on his shoulder, pressing a kiss to her ankle where she had a tattoo of a tornado, courtesy of Lilly and an empty bottle of Jack.

He gripped her hip with his free hand before he began to hammer into her. The sound of skin slapping filled the room. Her noises were one of his favorite things about sex with her, but he really did not need the neighbors knowing that he hadn’t even given her 30 minutes before they went at it; the bandana was not cutting it. He gathered up the material that was still hanging out her mouth and shoved it in. He gave a short “sorry” when he heard her gag but he wasn’t sure she heard it because he gave a very hard thrust at the same time that caused her eyes to roll backwards. He placed his hand over her mouth as well to keep her silent, her leg pressed against her chest.

Her hands dug crescents into his biceps and left long marks down his back. He had absolutely no complaints. If he could find a way to make the feel of him buried in her cunt permanent, he would. Boone grunted in her ear when she squeezed around him, “Be good, honey.” He felt her moan vibrate through his hand. 

She was getting close, he could feel it. She kept lifting her hips in a way to both escape the pleasure but also find new angles for him to hit in hopes it would be what set her off. He snaked his hand off her hip and used his rough thumb to circle her clit. In seconds, he sent her over the edge. She tensed so hard around him he couldn’t thrust her through it. Her tightness sent him over the edge, his face buried in her hair while he was groaning her name paired with a whimper of overstimulation. When he finally pulled out, he got the camera again to film the dripping of his spend out her cunt. He reached a hand out and smeared his cum across her cunt. She jerked and whimpered, the feeling too much so soon after he finished her again. 

He turned the camera to her face as he gave her his cum covered fingers to suck on. She had a sleepy, not-fully-on-Earth smile plastered on her face. She stared at the lens, at the extension of Boone, “Hi, baby.”

He held the camera out with one arm while he moved to connect their lips again.

The camera ran out of battery just as Boone was setting it up to look into the shower, right after he got a shot of Rowan on her knees with her tongue out, covered in his release, before she swallowed and showed her empty tongue to the camera.

He cursed when the screen turned black, an alert to change SD cards coming up. Rowan laughed and closed it after turning it off, grabbing his hand and pulling him into the shower. “You’ll just have to remember this round.”

-

Her hair left a damp spot on the pillow beneath him, but he didn’t mind. She was half asleep in the nook he made for her between his shoulder and arm, her eyes closed as she inhaled the scent of his soap and shampoo. If his arm was asleep under her, he said nothing. He had changed the sheets with the ones from the closet while she searched through his bag and her own to find something to wear. She ultimately decided on a pair of sleep shorts she brought and one of his plain t-shirts that hung oversized on her. She had a fist resting on his chest and had her leg across his waist; he lightly scratched at it, a comforting motion to help lure her to sleep.

He adjusted his head to leave a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you, Rowan.”

She was too tired to make any words, so she gave him a hum that both acknowledged his words and returned the sentiment. She kissed the nearest part of him she could before settling back into her cocoon. He pulled the blankets up closer to her chin.

[bedoballoons]

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ🎃

{༻~Kissing a monster~༺}

CW: Characters are different types of monsters! GN! Reader, mentions of blood because vampires, some characters are considered dead, descriptions of making out, some characters are a little rough, Neuvillette doesn't wear alot of clothing, may be a little ooc!

(Pet names: Lyney: Mon amour, my love, Albedo: Dearest, Neuvillette: Play thing, beautiful!)

A/n: Talking a little break from requests (sorry) to write some self indulgent spooky stuff! I hope you enjoy!! Sorry it's a late post!!

(Includes: Lyney, Albedo, Xiao, and Neuvillette!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Lyney: (~Vampire~)

Lyney bit his lip, watching intensely as your crimson blood ran down the tip of your finger, dripping onto the ground by his feet with the quietest of splashes that rang much louder in his trained ears. He didn't want to hurt you, but his sharp teeth ached for a taste...just a drop, "Lyney? You okay? You're not one of those people who faints at the sight of blood right?"

His violet eyes, now tinted with a bright red, met yours...scanning your lips and neck, all the way back to your small cut, "I...please forgive me mon amour.." You gave him a curious look, about to question what on earth he had done that needed to be forgiven, when his hand grabbed your wrist, his tongue sliding across your finger, licking your blood away while you watched completely shocked and blushed.

"L-lyney?!?"

Just that little bit had his mind dazed, never in his life had he tasted something so incredible as you before, it was like he'd broken away from his normal self, became a beast as pulled you close to him and kissed you roughly, hands sliding up your body in haste. "Let me have more of you my love~"

𑁍༄Albedo: (~Vampire~)

Albedo wasn't sure what had changed in him, what had made your lips taste like candy...so addictive he couldn't get enough, what had changed his normally gentle touches into harsh ones that made him seem more and more desperate for you, what made his sharp teeth cutting your bottom lip open seem like a spark to starting a lustful fire.

He lifted you onto his desk, your thighs wrapped around his waist tightly as sucked on your tongue and drank up every single drop of your delicious blood as if he had been starved, the kiss only growing more heated as he groaned into your hot mouth. He needed more, but it was already taken everything in him to not move to your neck, he was getting to excited, he should pull away...

"D-dearest maybe we s-shouldn't-" He pulled away in a attempt to calm himself, but you didn't let him leave you long enough to even finish his sentence, your hand gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him back into the kiss...he'd started it after all~

𑁍༄Xiao: (~Grim Reaper~)

You touched Xiaos cheek, the thick fabric of his hood rubbing the back of your hand as if it was reminding you what he was...a collector of souls, someone who could end your life at any moment. His touch could even potentially be dangerous to you and yet here you were, standing by cemetery in the middle of the night with him, hoping to have just one of his poisonous kisses.

"You shouldn't....we shouldn't be together. I'm... not good for you..." He tried to persuade you to leave, wanting nothing more than for you to be safe, his grip on his scythe tightening protectively, but your lips met his anyway. It was like the rest of the world faded away, fog gathering at your feet and the full moon shining down on you as his free hand wrapped around your waist...this was a risk you simply had to take.

"You're going to be the end of me..."

𑁍༄Neuvillette: (~Siren~)

You felt almost dizzy, following what seemed to be the voice of a angel that sung to you, calling you to them with every verse. How had you ended up in a cave in the dead of night...sea water swishing around your feet and the cold making your whole body shiver, why were you still going forward...

"Well look at you, aren't you a beautiful being, please come closer~" The voices abrupt change in pitch had you frantically searching around until finally you caught sight of him, long white hair flowing all the way to the ground, his body mostly exposed with only ocean items used as clothing...however what had you truly entranced were his bright almost glowing eyes that lingered on you almost threateningly.

You couldn't run away even if you wanted to, your legs carrying you closer to him, making you kneel in front of him while he smirked slightly. "How long has it been since I had a play thing as goregous as you, I wonder if you taste as good as you look..." He curled a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him while his lips met yours...it was cold but you couldn't get enough. Whatever spell he had put on you...was more than working...

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

◥(•̀￦•́)◤☪︎ ִ ࣪𖤐 ☾𖤓~Have a spooky day~*⁠.⁠✧

[agatharkn3ss]

This is how Lilia's trial and visions will happen (I think) - Spoilers

TLDR: Lilia will read tarot as her trial and that's how she sends all those messages to her past self (jump to "THE VISIONS" section for the most interesting part).

I have written about Lilia a few times before because I think she's a crucial character in the show, so I'll try to put it all together here into a single post. I believe Lilia is literally the Fate of the coven - she sewn the sigil on Billy and she's going to sew the coven circle together (as per ballad lyrics "Circle sewn with Fate"). She even runs a sewing "side hustle" Lilia's Leggings. So I think her episode is going to be epic and sad at the same time. I think this is the one addressing that "Time slip" hint in ep.1.

I believe Lilia's "blips" fall into two categories - "tarot cards" and actual "messages".

When she says a name of the tarot cards out loud, it has two consequences - 1) is that she clearly alludes to the MEANINGS of the cards, but also 2) notice how they always look like the exact scene she is referring to. So the tarot cards images become what Lilia sees as Fate. She even seals them with her sigil sign in the lower right corner.

The tarot cards she mentioned so far (card meanings from biddytarot.com):

Three of Pentacles - right after she wrote the coven names down (ep.2) - the card looks like the summoning circle scene from Agatha's basement - you can even notice Billy being included there. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Teamwork, collaboration, learning, implementation. REVERSED: Disharmony, misalignment, working alone.

High Priestess - when she meets Jen at Agatha's house and says it almost surprised (ep.2) - Jen happened to be standing in front of a painting in a way that looked like she had rays coming out of her head. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Intuition, Sacred Knowledge, The Divine Feminine, Subconscious mind. REVERSED: Guardian of the Subconscious mind, Teacher of sacred knowledge.

Three of Swords - as Jen is trying to heal Billy (ep.4) - they are on a PURPLE road, in the WOODS, and Agatha is standing in that pose, holding Billy's head. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Heartbreak, emotional pain, sorrow, grief, hurt. REVERSED: Negative self-talk, releasing pain, optimism, forgiveness

Knight of Wands - as Alice blasts Agatha (ep.5) - the Knight has the same stance as Alice in that moment. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Energy, passion, inspired action, adventure, impulsiveness. REVERSED: Passion project, haste, scattered energy, delays, frustration

The Tower [reversed] - during palm reading for William Kaplan (ep.6) Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Sudden change, upheaval, chaos, revelation, awakening. REVERSED: Personal transformation, fear of change, averting disaster

The remaining cards are:

Death - the relevant scene probably comes in episode 8,but Lilia sees it as she finally recognises Rio? Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Change, Transformation, Transition, Ending. REVERSED: On a verge of a meaningful change, Opportunity to embrace change, Massive personal transformation

Queen of Cups and the Tower - the scene will probably come in this episode 7 as flashback to Lilia's youth. Card meaning: UPRIGHT: Compassionate, caring, emotionally stable, intuitive, in flow. REVERSED: Inner feelings, self-care, self-love, co-dependency.

Now Lilia's message "blips" are:

shouting and flailing her hands - when Agatha and Teen ask her to join the coven in ep.2

writing the coven names (same scene as above) - this is the one premonition where we see big bursts of power - the electricity flicker around her, the water boils and it all seems really intense.

shouting "Get off me!" and looking like she was pushing someone away - just before the witches begin summoning the Road in ep.2

"I love you guys" - when Jen questions Sharon about her poison symptoms in ep.3

"Try to save Agatha" - when she and Agatha are searching for potion ingredients in ep.3

"Which is it, am I wispy or am i kooky?" - when talking to Alice about her mum during the trial in ep.4

"Alice! Alice don't" - shortly after the one above

"You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now....[Zones out]" - during the campfire scene when she seemingly talks about the vampire scar in ep.4

"I hated this the first time!" - when there are loud, uncomfortable noises at the start of the trial in ep.5. (HOWEVER, I am not 100% convinced this is an actual blip - I felt this was more of a shout out to ep.4 where they also experienced loud, uncomfortable music. It was only Billy who pointed out that "Lilia was being weird again". And yes, if he is able to read her mind, then maybe it was an actual "blip". Or maybe a red herring. )

the palm reading scene and casting the sigil in ep.6. Notice the light was flickering again.

So, with all that in mind, I believe her trial will be something like this:

We know Lilia is the oldest witch in the coven and has lived for some 450 years, through many tragedies and the many ways the women were persecuted. She is also always so vocal about the negative stereotypes that surround witches - she mentions poisoning apples, green skin, broomsticks, talking to goats etc. And in this episode we see that Lilia will be dressed as Glinda (the Good witch), Agatha will be Elphaba (the Wicked witch), Jen looks like the Evil Queen from the Snow White, but in her old hag form and Billy is Maleficent. And even the "yellow" road feels like a call-back to the Wizard of Oz.

So it looks like Lilia, by being the good witch, will need to confront those negative stereotypes about witches yet again. I believe her test will be a tarot reading. Lilia's powers are that she can "read people" and "read time" (ep.5). We also know she was chased out of villages for "accurately predicting tragedies" and I think as an empath, she hates that part of her powers. But through this trial she will also understand that she actually has the power to predict something good and control the outcome, maybe even be able to prevent a tragedy that has already happened in the past.

From the promo material I believe her trial will take place in a tower and that Salem Seven will somehow be able to enter the trial room. There will also be swords sticking out of the ceiling, threatening to fall down and serving as a timer. It's interesting that one of Agatha's posters brings the elements together. The poster imitates the cover of "the Crucible" - a play about the Salem witch trials. So not only another nod to prosecuting witches, but also to the Salem Seven themselves. The elements of the poster also include the swords and the motif of the thread of Fate and how it controls everyone.

Now, look back to The Tower tarot card - roughly, it could also stand for "sudden, disruptive revelation" - kind of like Lilia's 'blips'. Notice on that card there are people in black in the air (Salem Seven?), blasts of electricity and a blue crown falling off the top of the tower. I am not clear how Billy's crown will fit into this though.

So I think Lilia will be doing her tarot reading, slowly uncovering cards and saying their names out loud. This will take her back to the moments in the past that she associates with the meaning but the visual image will become the scenes as explained above. She will realise she can not only transport her spirit into those moment but also be heard, so that she will be able to send messages to the coven in the past - the "blips" that we've seen throughout the episodes. But she might not be able to control it as well as she thinks yet, and some messages will be broken in two, while some will be unintended "unfiltered" things she just says to people in the trial room.

As Fate she will be able to see what could happen if they never walk the Witches Road. She will realise she is the one who has to put the coven together and so she will need to send her past self the list of the witches names. In this, she will also see William's Kaplan death and realise she was the one who has to put the sigil on him, to hide him from Death collecting him - this in turn will allow Billy Maximoff to enter the body and save him.

THE VISIONS

The messages could be in any order really, but I feel each blip can be explained:

As she's tapping into her subconscious mind, the reading could be starting with "High Priestess" [card 2 in the list above] - and she sounds surprised because it is as if she was actually standing back in Agatha's room - the realisation is only now slowly dawning on her.

Maybe one of other witches that are in the trial room with her (Jen in response to the High Priestess?) starts antagonising Lilia's kookiness, because they want her to just hurry up or don't understand what's happening yet. So Lilia, just as she reveals the next card "Knight of Wands", then responds to Jen in annoyance "Which is it, am I wispy or am I kooky?!" [blip 6] (btw, "wispy" also has a nice connection to Air, so I can see this word being used in the episode before because it's Air trial).

But then, as she says this, Lilia realises she is standing in front of Alice from the fire trial (in spirit anyway, Lilia is still physically in the scary room). She exclaims in relief "Alice!" and realises Alice can actually hear her. So this is Lilia's chance to warn her about the events of Agatha's trial. She begins saying "Alice, don't try to save Agatha!", but mid way through, her spirit gets transported to the first trial in ep.3, searching for potion ingredients. So Alice only hears "Alice don't..." [blip 7] and Agatha hears "...try to save Agatha" [blip 5].

At some point Salem Seven break their way into the tarot room and Vertigo releases her cicadas, flying around Lilia's head. She flails her hands and screams, while her spirit is inside her shop where Agatha and Teen just approach her [blip 1].

She eventually discovers her own card - "Queen of Cups". She transports herself into her past and we get her backstory.

But then we get repeat of her nightmare from ep.3 - Lilia uncovers the "Death" card. She sees the death figure approaching her maestra. But with that, the figure comes into light and she finally recognises it's Rio.

The pain of her memories leads her straight to "Three of Swords", momentarily finding the scene where Jen is healing Billy. She realises death was there all along.

She has the revelation that Rio - Death - has been after Billy all along - "The Tower Reversed". The lights flicker. She finds herself in her tent, in front of William Kaplan. [blip 10] She sees his life split in two and puts a sigil on him to protect him from Death.

But with the "tower reversed", the whole room is literally reversed - the ceiling with swords is now floor and Lilia and Salem Seven find themselves drifting towards the blades in the air. One of the Salem bumps into Lilia as they fall and she shouts "Get off me!" [blip 3] as pushes them away (while her spirit is transported to the moment before they opened the Road).

She realises she doesn't have much time left, she knows what the next card is, even though it's floating in the air. She focuses all her energy and channels her spirit to write the list of names herself [blip 2]. It takes enormous effort to stay focused on that one moment, hence the energy around her is bursting. (this could also explain the bolts of lightning on the tower card). She finishes by revealing and naming the last tarot card: "Three of Pentacles".

Finally, as she drifts towards the deadly swords, Lilia, relieved she completed her task, is transported to sitting in front of the campfire with the other witches (ep.4), reminiscing their stories. This is a fond memory so she starts saying "You know, we really kind of hated each other in the beginning, but now.." [blip 8] and before she can finish, she gets transported back to the "Huge tiny lies" house "...I love you guys" [blip 4]. And with that, she dies...

...

Phew. You got this far. So - what do you think?

Bonus: I think there are rumours we will finally hear Patti sing and unleash her full potential.

[moodymisty]

Author's Note: Inspired by this post. You can blame all of the unhinged horniness there for this unhinged horniness. Someone there put the idea down as space wolves or Luna wolves and I chose Luna wolves because @bispecsual gave me the brain rot. And since I'm a massive masochist, I write.

Relationships: Like five unnamed Luna Wolves/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Vaguely NSFW, Very hornily charged bullying, Astartes are very curious and grabby, Demeaning speech, Just imagine you're that one girl on the couch in the meme surrounded by massive dudes but those dudes are 8 foot tall genetic abominations, Gangbang implications(?) my warning tags are getting weird as fuck

To the Luna Wolves, serfs are a new idea- a curiosity.

But after their good deeds upon a planet of little known renown and placement in the galaxy, a few of their population offered to serve them.

Before them, most serfs were primarily stationed on Terra, and on Luna Wolves ships instead those roles were given to low ranking tech priests, or penal labor. Even then however the Astartes saw them rarely, until now.

Some of the newly conquered planet offered sons as aspirants, of which they eagerly accepted. The Luna Wolves have been eager to grow their numbers now under Horus’ leadership.

Others, older and ablebodied, offered themselves to serve as serfs.

Many Luna Wolves can't remember the last time they've seen a normal human for more than a few moments, ushering them to safely into a Stormbird or pushing them from a firefight. Or seeing their corpse flung on the far reaches of a battlefield, out of sight and mind.

In their brief periods of reprieve from battle, it's now been a struggle for their captains and lieutenants to keep their men on task, now that serfs scurry around them completing various tasks. Particularly for the youngest marines among them, it's been a constant to stop them from reaching towards the serfs, interrupting their sanctioned duties.

They will get to you once finished with your brothers, is what the current quartermaster on duty or Astartes captain says. Though haste to have their armor cleaned or bolter clips loaded isn't the thing on their mind, but instead an almost dog-like curiosity.

But after their superiors leave, they always end up crowding around you again. These astartes have barely seen baseline humans in decades, let alone a woman.

It's suffocating.

You were nothing on your home planet. Insignificant. You’d hoped joining them would bring you purpose, something to be proud of. And to get off the planet that had you feeling so trapped. And while you got your wish, in a way the thing trapping you had merely changed form.

They have you cornered in the armoring room now; Like Wolves. You went from trapped on that no name planet to trapped by five different astartes. Your palms feel hot and sweaty, but not as hot as your face.

“You’re so small, you’re going to get lost on the ship,” One says.

He grabs for your chin and holds it for a moment, forcing you to look into his grey eyes. they're stoic, but you can see he's enjoying something about this. Though he allows you to shrink away and out of his grip, looking downward at their chest armor. Or anywhere else that isn't their faces.

“Or trampled,” Says another. The one who spoke previous gives him a sour look before passively aggressively replying.

“We’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

One who hasn't spoken yet has his top armor removed, his lower half unpowered. He was training, using it as dead weight. Training concluded blood now drips down from his nose and lips but is mostly dried, partly covered healing bruises. If he looks like this, you can't help but wonder how his opponent looks.

It’s distracting.

You don’t know if it’s some sort of illness or insanity from being locked in this ship for so long; It makes him look more attractive. You hope to whatever deity or god or whatever exists out in the stars that he doesn't notice you’re staring. That he doesn't notice the way your heart is pounding in your chest and what feels like your cunt as well.

He does. As do the others. You can't kid yourself and think that with their hearing and smell that they haven't noticed that you're boiling alive, and that your body is screaming fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me-

“He won. Out of one hundred men.”

Your gut twists and the marine behind you laughs quietly. It's deep, enough so that you swear you can feel it in your chest. You would squeeze your thighs together for some relief, but you don’t think you can without stumbling over.

“She likes the winners. Looks like you’re out.” He gestures to a fellow marine that gives him another sour look. You briefly wonder what he lost at to deserve such a jab.

“I should return to my duties,”

You meekly say, hoping to remove yourself from the embarrassment and scurry away to another quarter of the ship.

One of them blocks your path and traps you from leaving, picking you up by the armpits and holding you before putting you back down between them all. It's like you weigh nothing to them, and that they can simply jostle and swing you around like a toy.

“I’ll tell your quartermaster you were helping us.” He jerks his head in the direction of a marine clad in only the casual clothing they wear out of their ceramite. Now the focus of your attention he rolls his shoulder, and you can see the muscles of his neck and around his collarbone flex.

You swallow a knot in your throat that felt like it was going to choke you. Your hands clench tight, nails sharp against your palms. You're going to have a heart attack, you swear it. Tears well in your eyes but they don't break your waterline just yet, from sheer will alone. If any of them say another word, call you cute, small, soft, that you smell so sweet, you swear they’ll roll down your cheeks like a waterfall.

“He wants you to put on his armor. The others are always so rough, you’re so gentle with those little hands.”

The marine reaches for you, and in your back step you stumble and accidentally bump into the one who hasn't spoken at all; Just watching and sitting. You stumble over his massive armored boot and end up falling into a sit on his thigh, legs parted over it. His massive armored hand comes to grip your waist, to keep you from falling over. It covers a good portion of your stomach in the process.

You’re so tightly wound just the simple pressure alone is enough to have you clamp a hand your mouth to avoid letting out a moan that would kill you right then and there, if you weren’t already dead. Your knees quiver, toes just barely touching the ground. His massive height makes it impossible to fully stand with his thigh between your legs.

You know they can smell the way you’re leaking and staining your underwear, hear the way your heart is racing like it's going to explode. You’re half afraid you might make his ceramite thigh plate slick.

You can feel their eyes on you. They look at you like you’re food thrown to a pack of starving wolves.

One suddenly steps forward, and pushes his battle brother out of his way with a harsh slam of ceramite on ceramite before undoing the latch his belt.

“I go first.”

[twstjam]

"I've got writer's block," I admit, and am immediately overtaken by the urge to write something. Anyways this is brought to you by that one tiktok audio ("I should go back before ____ realises I'm not in bed!") and "Malleus sleeps in a nightgown/sleeping gown" brainrot. Idk i just love it okay. this features: married!Malleyuu and implied besties Sebek and Yuu (don't tell me he wouldn't be their right-hand man after they marry Malleus. They were besties in college!!!)

Crown Prince Malleus stirs slowly from his peaceful slumber. In his arms, his spouse is still as they remain within the realm of dreams.

Malleus sighs contentedly as he holds your small, soft body closer and burrows his face into your hair.

"Good morning, my love…" he trails off uncertainly as his nose buries into something soft. Too soft. Malleus finally opens his eyes and realises with a start that he was not, in fact, holding his beloved in his arms, but a mere pillow. Lifting himself up on his elbows, he ascertains that your side of the bed is in fact woefully empty.

Malleus sits up in alarm. He very vividly remembers falling asleep with you the previous night, so why has he woken up all alone?

"Child of man? Darling?" he calls out to the empty room. The door to the bathroom is closed and he can hear no sound from it and neither can he hear anything from the closet. His sleeping gown brushes his ankles as he slides out of bed to go search for you anyway. He calls your name with each poke of his head past the doorways and receives no answer.

Malleus grows increasingly frantic as he quickly walks towards the bedroom's double doors and throws them open.

He yells your name out into the hall and is only responded by echoes of his own voice. He hears the castle's caretakers startle and yelp in surprise. He must've been louder than he had intended to be.

Malleus's bare feet patter on the cold stone floors as he hurries towards the equally urgent steps of one of his attendants.

"My liege!" the maid exclaims in surprise when he almost runs her over in his haste. Still though, she doesn't miss a beat and bows. "Good morning, sire. Is something the matter with their highness?"

"I do not know," Malleus's voice is level but slightly sharper than his usual tone. He's putting all his effort into not letting his panic surface but his lips have also downturned into a severe pout. "That is the issue. You see, I woke up with them missing from my side. Where are they?"

The question is spoken more like a demand. Expectant. He unconsciously scowls fiercely at the maid before him, who begins to tremble. She lowers her head reverently.

"Forgive me, my lord. I am not aware of their whereabouts."

Malleus's glare deepens and he walks past her. She quickly hurries after him, squeaking about his lack of footwear and proper attire.

"Where are our guards? Silver. Sebek!" He doesn't wait for the maid to respond before shouting for them. The guards of the castle stiffen and stand at attention at their posts when he nears them. Several of the other castle staff pause and bow. Malleus searches among them for Silver, Sebek or, better yet, his missing spouse, but upon finding no sign he sniffs and places his hands on his hips. "Where is my partner? How can any of you have allowed this?! Where are your commanders? Retrieve them this instant!"

Thunder rumbles faintly in the distance. The soldiers bow their heads and chorus their affirmations, but one of the guards bravely displays their confusion on their face.

"I apologise for questioning you, my lord, but do you request us to retrieve your spouse or—?"

"Find them. Find them at once!" Malleus cuts them off sharply. The soldier shrinks back but they continue to look up at him with a furrowed brow. Malleus reigns in his anger with a deep breath before saying, calmer this time, "Send someone to retrieve Commanders Zigvolt and Vanrouge. Tell them that I have summoned them. The rest of you, search for my spouse. Now!"

"Yes, Lord Malleus!" the guards chorus, but right as they're about to scatter to fulfil the orders of their prince, a gentle voice, starkly different in comparison to the prince's roars and the castle's dark walls, draws their attention.

"There will be no need for that."

Commander Silver Vanrouge marches down the hall swiftly and elegantly, the long tail of his uniform's coat billowing behind him. The only thing that disrupts his intimidating image is the way his silvery hair sticks up on one side.

Silver stops in front of him and Malleus notices a little bat peer up at him from where it clings to the human's shoulder.

"Silver." Malleus's nerves ease slightly in the presence of one of his closest confidants. "What do you mean?"

"When I woke up this morning, the bats reported to me of your partner's departure from the castle after midnight." As he relays this information to his prince, Silver casually reaches up and allows the bat to climb onto his hand and hang off his fingers.

"Departure?" Malleus repeats with wide eyes.

Silver nods. Before Malleus can begin to question him further, Silver elaborates, "Worry not. They were not alone."

"Weren't they now?" The brief relief that swells in Malleus's chest is quickly washed away by irritation. "And who was this that also did not think to inform me of my spouse's sudden disappearance in the night?!"

Silver pauses at that. Even with Malleus's furious glare trained on him, he doesn't falter and seems reluctant for a completely unrelated reason.

"…I assume that neither of them wished to wake you."

At the quiet words, Malleus is so suddenly reminded of a time many years ago when Silver barely reached his waist and his features were much rounder and softer than the adult human guard before him.

"…He won't get in trouble if I tell you, right?"

Still though, despite the twinge of nostalgia, Malleus narrows his eyes at Silver. His sheepish expression says it all.

Malleus's pout deepens. He huffs an irritated breath and murmurs your name and Sebek's, followed by, "Those two…!"

Green flame bursts past his lips and his gown billows as he throws up his fists and stomps his foot into the stone floor with a crack not unlike a child throwing a tantrum.

"Where have they gone?!"

------

You're rudely awakened by someone shaking your shoulders. Sebek shouts your name and mumbles a comparison to Silver as you finally come to.

"This is no time for napping!" he snaps. "It is almost daylight. We must return to the castle at once!"

A little giggle comes from your left and you see Lilia smiling down at you. His shoulder-length hair spills over his shoulders as he tilts his head.

"Sebek's right," Lilia says in a deep and raspy voice, one that still takes you by surprise how different it is from how he sounded back at Night Raven. "A dragon gets quite restless when they are apart from their mate for too long. And you said that you snuck out?" He shakes his head disapprovingly.

"Hey, you've got no room to talk, old man," you snip back at him. He dramatically puts a hand to his chest as if he'd been wounded. "It wouldn't be a surprise if I told Tsunotarou what I'm up to."

You pick up your bag and Sebek helps you to your feet. You look into your bag before slinging it on. The jars inside and their contents consisting of many, many, many fireflies had remained undisturbed.

"Goodbye dears, it was wonderful to see you!" Lilia chirps as he waves you off. Both you and Sebek grin and wave back.

"It has been a pleasure as always, Master Lilia!"

"Yeah, thanks for helping us out!" As you wave at him, you glance up at the sky and realise with a start that Sebek really wasn't kidding about it almost being morning. "Okay, I really should get back before Tsunotarou realises I'm not in bed—"

You're abruptly cut off by a sharp roll of thunder and a flash of green lightning. Sebek shrieks and instinctively lowers his head while Lilia gives you an aggravating "I told you so" smile.

[prianya]

AJSJSHHUEEU YOU WRITE THE BEST ETHO FICS IVE READ!!! if it ain’t to much trouble, can I ask for etho trying to fluster the reader? take care of ya self, love your work!

What a Flirt!

Etho x Reader

Notes: Sorry this took so long! And thank you for the compliment! I’m not too confident in most of my characterizations, but it’s good to hear you enjoy my work. :)

Word count: 792 words

Etho is an energetic man. He’s always on the move, working on some “top-secret” project, or having fun with his closest friends. The energy had always endeared you, and you and Etho had become good friends after a while. Etho is energetic as a fact of life, and recently, on top of that, Etho has become a flirt.

•

On Monday, Etho had cornered you just outside of your base, leaning against a fence post and giving you a smile.

“Have I ever told you that you have a beautiful face?,” Etho says, smiling brightly. You level him with a blank stare, and his smile wavers. “Why are you looking at me like that? I mean it!”

“Sure, Etho,” You sigh, smiling at his attempt. In recent days, Etho had seemingly made it his mission to fluster you, whether out of affection or entertainment, you can’t tell. “Come here, you’ve got a loose strap on your harness.”

Etho steps towards you, and all but halts his breathing. Your hands adjust the straps of the harness gently, fixing his elytra more tightly to his back. Looking up at his face, Etho avoids eye contact, going as far as to turn his head from you. Even still, you spot the light dusting of pink that adorns his cheeks.

“Hm. Seems like you’re losing at your own game, huh, Etho?” You tease, bringing a hand ip to poke gently at his face. He swats your hand away, his blush intensifying.

“I’m not losing at anything, I’ll have you know,” He pouts, once again swatting at your hand. “I’m not even started yet. Just you wait.” He says, puffing out his chest, similar to a bird.

“Okay, birdie, I’ll wait to see what you have in store.” You laugh, shooting his embarrassed face a glance as he realizes what you had called him.

“Hey! I am not a bird!” He says indignantly, and you laugh once again as you walk away from Etho, and as he watches you go.

•

On Tuesday, as you were brewing potions, arms deep in a cauldron with a heavy sheen of sweat over your face from the heat, Etho once again came to find you.

“You look stunning today, sweetheart,” He teases, leaning over the windowsill as he pokes his head inside of the window. “I love someone with such creative passions.” You smile, rolling your eyes.

“Etho, you should move. This potion splashes, and it causes boils on the face. It’s a prank potion, yes, but it’s still not pleasant, especially before dilution.” You tell him, and he gapes at you before standing straight up.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner! I was over that for five whole minutes!” Etho whines, placing a hand on his forehead.

•

Wednesday comes soon as well, and Etho makes haste in finding you in your garden. He sits next to you casually, laying out and facing the sun. He pulls down his mask, bathing his face in sunlight, and you note in the back of your mind that you rarely ever see him in the mask when it’s just you two.

“Fine day today, hm?” You say gently, uprooting a weed and tossing it into a wicker basket. Etho hums, eyes still closed and a peaceful smile painting his face. Smiling, you return to your weeding, systematically ripping weeds out of the ground and discarding them for future use. Etho stirs slightly, and when you look over, his eyes are locked onto you.

“Hello there. Finally awake?” You say, absentmindedly organizing your weeds into separate bundles. He doesn’t answer, but his hand finds yours relatively quickly.

“ Quiet day, huh? I get it. Would you like to join me for some tea?” You ask gently, Rubbing a thumb over the back of his hand and giving him time to reply.

“Yeah. Tea sounds nice.” He sighs, letting go of your hand to stand. He then offers his hand to you, and pulls you up. The two of you walk the few yards to your base together, hands linked at your sides. You can feel Etho’s gaze on your face, firmly locked onto you.

“You know,” Etho begins, his thumb caressing the back of your hand, “I can’t imagine life without you by my side. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed someone’s company like I’ve enjoyed yours.”

You pause mid-step, face flushed, and cover your face with your hands. Etho looks at you, confused at first, then smug.

“I did it! I told you I would-“ Etho quiets immediately as you press your lips to his, muffling whatever “i-told-you-so” he had coming.

“Yeah, yeah. You told me you would.” You smile gently, rolling your eyes as you kiss him again. “You win, Etho.”

[sadistic-kiss]

Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen

Disclaimer: Angsty but I’m still not GeGe. Jujutsu Kaisen and all its characters belong to to that guy.

Universe: In the same universe but the men are in jujutsu university and closer in age. Sukuna is also Yuuji’s older brother.

Characters/Relationship: Gojo, Getou, Nanami, Yu, Toji, Sukuna, Choso x Succubus Reader

Rating: Explicit

Genre: Smut (it’s the only genre I know)

Kinks: masochist, degrading, dacryphilia, pet play(mainly just a leash and collar), dom/sub, BDSM, whatever else I feel like tossing in.

Summary: A frat boys' house is the perfect feeding ground for a succubus.

~

Chef Note: Hello this is my October smut fic that I wanted to post for this kinky month~! I wanted to post it the first week of October but I was behind on my writing for HOA and my other story so I had to catch up a bit. I was also dealing with stupid stuff but you know better late than never! This is just a nice little hot smut soup for you to enjoy during this chilly season.

P.S. Another dream I had. I’m getting tired of my brain calling me out for being a simp for these men. It’s not cool honestly and I woke up feeling offended. 💅

~

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter One.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

A shadowy figure flew past the bright moon. Black and purple wings flapping in the wind rhythmically. The night was seemingly quiet as you soared across the ocean of stars. It was peaceful... but you will not know peace until you have been fulfilled. Your jaw tensed from the painful ache of your body. The feeling caused your wings to fall off beat, you dipped for a second but gain composure.

You were unbelievably hungry.

Warm glowing eyes kept focus, beckoning for your destination to come into view. Once it did you chirped excitedly. It was a large mansion, tucked away in some trees. You surged forward with haste. Muffled music played as you circled around the house before descending to the porch.

Your wings disappeared while you stepped up to the door. Leather gloves creak when you ball your hand into a fist and knock on the white wood with restrained urgency.

You smiled softly, folding your hand upon the other in a polite manner. No one came to the door so you rang the bell. As you waited for someone you heard noises behind you.

“Ooooh damn.” A man chuckled.

Looking over your shoulder you saw two men and a woman walking up the steps

“You ain’t cold in that get up sweet cheeks?”

“Yeah, sexy outfit but damn girl.”

It was late October and the winds were rather harsh, the group snuggled in jackets, scarves, and beanies. All you had on was a bikini-like top and skirt, straps crisscrossing along your stomach and back, thigh-high boots, and long leather gloves.

You didn’t say anything as you assessed their curse energy. They had little to none. If they touched you they would die.

Leave.

The command was spoken within your mind and sent to theirs.

Their eyes lost their shine and their bodies moved in sync. They began to walk away without a word and climbed back into their car. Just as they did the door opened.

“Took you guys long…”

“Hi, Choso.” You smiled at the man as his smile dropped.

“Oh…” his dead eyes looked even more deader, realizing who his guest was. “…it’s you.”

“It’s me.” You giggle lightly.

Choso looked behind you, eyes following the car moving down the street. After the headlight passed his face he looked down at you past his nose. “Did you send them away?”

“Yes!,” you nodded as if he were supposed to praise you. “I didn’t want to accidentally kill them and have a repeat of last time.” You speak matter-of-factly, “Then you guys would have been even more pissed at me.” You released a light chuckle but Choso wasn’t laughing.

Tough crowd…

You stood in awkward silence, fiddling with your fingers as you swayed a bit, hoping that the house had finally forgiven you for all the friends you killed. By accident of course! “Can I…come in…?”

Choso sighed, reaching to the side. You could see him a bit through the thin mosaic window. He was grabbing something that was hanging up by the door along with umbrellas, coats, and other things.

You heard the jingle as he pulled out the black and red collar with leash, a bell upon it. You sucked in a breath and held it, watching as he undid the collar and then looked at you.

“Get on your knees.”

Guess they were still mad at you.

You nodded, dropping right before the door. You could not enter until they invited you in.

Choso slid the leather around your neck and fixed it so it was snug. You fluttered your eyes at him, stomach churning hungrily-hoping he’d grace you with a sweet kiss when he was done, but he ignored you. When he finished he stood and tugged at the leash a few times.

“Come in slut.”

Inwardly you pouted while crawling inside. You just knew they were going to make your life difficult before they fed you.

You could most certainly find somewhere else to feast…

But their curse energy was just so addicting.

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Two.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

[lilacstro]

pac: messages from universe

back with another pac, trying to post as much ideas I had last week haha. choose between two piles today, i felt to do two instead of three irdk why, sincerely hoping it resonates.

paid readings are open :)

pile 1 pile 2

support me on ko-fi :)

Pile 1

"discontent" with wherever you are currently it seems. Very simple and clear messages coming through. I feel you all are holding on to something, some mindset, some unaligned person or something like that, which could be holding you back. I feel there is lack of appreciation for what situation you are in currently, you all are very out of touch with your higher inner self, your feminine and receptive side, trying to "justify" wrong feelings and things. The message for you is to go back to home. The lyrics coming up "home, let me go home, home is wherever I am with you", and you here, is yourself pile 1. dont be so caught up and hurried that you disconnect yourself from yourself and being. Don't be hurried to start something new, go to your destination skipping beats, worried and in a haste about the future or the thoughts that you are behind. No you are not. You are where you should be, and you will go through your destination through a journey, which will help you grip on the things you have been asking for. Universe is literally lending its hand to you, guiding you through your purpose and desires. Take inspired actions, talk to your loved ones, and embrace the season you are in, it wont be the same in a while. A manifestation for you is about to come true. If something was removed from your life or your life feels empty, you are about to receive what you have always wanted, the one that aligns with you, universe is making space for it in your life. Have a hold of yourself for now, try not to sulk if you are, and i promise you, you will be rewarded for putting your trust in the universe. A message coming through is a quote from buddha, "the dirt of the mind settles on its own", i heard a knock on my door as im writing this, something/someone is about to show up for you soon! also, consider going out, sitting in the sun. i also had a feeling you are struggling to make a choice of sorts, you are likely to get advice from someone, or as i may say, please take an advice from someone you trust.

Advices: 1. Stop and let it grow around you for a while. 2. anything you want, its out there somewhere 3. Make space for it 4.Rest, be gentle with yourself. 5. Content with what i already have 6. You are always shifting, and you can shift mountains too <3

I hope it resonated, all the best <33

Pile 2

The energy in this pile is so scattered, i mean different possibilities coming through. A possibility im getting for some of the people reading this pile is something changed overnight, something came crashing down. As soon as I was trying to comprehend this, my sister started singing, "you think, you'd never find another so pure, it ain't true, ain't true, ain't true, ain't no crying in the club hey hey, let the beat carry the tears as they fall baby" this is crying in the club by camilla cabello

another set of people seem to be doing relatively good, some of you might also be working on their goals and purpose with sheer determination.

Regardless of your situation, your message is clear, "your hard work will be rewarded, and everything would be so happy and joyous, it will be better than expected". if someone here was working for a family related problem or for their family, you guys would celebrate the good times coming together, its victory for you!! I definitely think there is a lot of love and harmony from the angels and higher deities you believe in, as if they are looking over you, and if you are not there yet, I see your angels will guide you through, helping you achieve the happiness you deserve. I see some of you could be meeting a partner sent from divine, something your guides would orchestrate for you. If not, then someone, maybe friends or family coming together for a celebration of some sorts, If you are even feeling stuck at the moment pile 2, its extremely short lived, this will blow out much faster than you think. If you are afraid about some important communication coming through, be assured whatever happens will happen for your highest good. I hope you all can keep on hanging in there, don't make a mess out of confusing yourself, stand firm in yourself and take actions you feel you need to take. An opportunity for travel coming through, for others, you are closing out cycles, and going to something new in your life. Release the old baggage that you don't need then, and resolve all your feelings. An advice for you is to connect with earth, maybe walk on soil and grass barefoot, maybe sit in a lotus pose and do meditations on ground. Happy times ahead for you<3 universe is just preparing you for that it seems.

Advice: 1.Ride the wave, see where it takes you 2.Find balance 3.Make the best of it 4.You have support, trust and release 5. Listen quietly 6. Its okay to feel feelings :)

I hope this resonated for you pile 2, i love you.

[ruanais]

。。。 FOUR, NINE, THIRTEEN 。。。

• — { omnipresent. chapter one: }

• — {warnings : mentions of suicide, dark content, no nsfw but things that could be triggering, dazai :P , bad writing, reader curses a lot, maybe some typos, etc. etc.}

• — {special thanks to : silver for helping me write + plan the plot, thank u to red and kat for taking their time to beta read, and thank u to mai for also helping with the plot ! }

• — { tagging the people who expressed interest ! @settingssun | @silverbladexyz @cheriiyaya | @kxttqi | @riiwrites + comment under this post to be tagged ! }

THE FIRST TIME Dazai Osamu met you, it was midnight. he was just walking to a bar and you were on the edge of a bridge railing, dressed in a school uniform. probably from a prestigious high school and not more than 15, he guessed when he took a better look at you. 

it was raining a storm, Rain had soaked through your clothes, and your hair was drenched. Paired with the harsh wind, you must be freezing. 

You were looking down at the river, a rather far away look in your eyes as you were seemingly in a dilemma, weighing two choices and- 

oh. 

dazai had already got the gist of what you were about to do, yet made no motion whatsoever. still and silent as a shadow, even when you took in a sharp breath and stepped off, falling down to the river’s current

a splash and you were gone forever, leaving him alone on the bridge.

now he was blankly staring at where you were mere seconds ago. not caring to even move. rooted at where he was. but several questions ran through his mind at that moment.

did you notice him staring? 

it wasn’t any use thinking about it so he let it go. 

the second time he encountered you, he had heard a series of gunshots then quickly headed to there. you were already dead. shot by someone he couldn’t catch.

Obviously, he was surprised to see your face but quickly collected himself, called the police, and left. finding it suspicious but quickly brushing it off his mind as he had more urgent and important matters to take care of than the measly death of someone he didn’t know. 

the third time he saw you, you were crossing the street. a calico cat in your arms as you talked to it, petting its fur and a warm smile on your face. 

then, you turned your head and caught sight of him, you widened your eyes seemingly in recognition, but you had ran, almost as if you were trying to escape from him.

well, dazai had tried to chase after you. But in your haste, you had failed to look at the road. tires screeched and you got hit by a car. 

he had ran and reached out his hand to try and pull you away despite knowing it was futile. but it was too late. blood splattered on him, staining his hand. Not that he ever cared. 

the cat was unhurt though, somehow miraculously shielded by your body. its large eyes looking into his’s before letting out a small meow then ran away. leaving you on the ground. 

sirens cut through the deathly silence, medics quickly rushing out of an ambulance after a bystander called the police. arriving just a few minutes later.

He tsked, running his hand through his hair, and and slipped away from there, away from that street, never to return.

on the fourth time, he saw you again. now convinced that you were a special case, he had to find you before you were gone. 

but unfortunately, he was too late again. you were a member of an rival organisation, holding important information and so was captured, interrogated, then brutally killed by one of the executive’s ability. crimson red blood pooled around your corpse before he got a chance to talk to you. 

“she already told us what we needed to know already. it’s no use keeping her around.” was what ozaki said when he demanded an explanation. “best to kill them before they cause further trouble. Say, dazai, don’t tell me-?” she frowned, shooting him a small glare. sighing deeply when he shook his head no. 

“I have to say, she was quite pathetic. Immediately telling us everything when we threatened the lives of her subordinates… I overestimated her.” was what she said while walking away slowly disappearing into the darkness, leaving him alone in the dim room. 

it was strange, he had to admit. the fact that you died every time before he got the chance to talk to you was quite eerie. not that he could do anything about it. Then, he left you again, leaving his underlings to clean up the mess. 

it happened nine times more, but instead of seeing you directly, he saw it on the news or heard it from his acquaintances. looking at your picture, you looked different in every universe but you had the same features. just enough to be recognizable. 

…

He was in the agency now, a new member. And amazingly, in record time, he was already doppo kunikida’s worst nightmare. 

today was his third day. how boring was this? 

in short: indescribable.

he felt like a deer caught in a spotlight. Far too out of place. Dazai knew how to put on an act, one to cover his true intentions quite nicely. Not enough to fool edogawa, of course. But enough to fool everyone else. 

he had listened to what odasaku had told him, be someone who saves people. he did or tried, or it would be something that he would do later. Depends, really.

…maybe one of the reasons he decided to follow through with his friend’s words was to make himself feel better. From what though? 

the guilt of not being able to save you? Maybe not stopping you from dying on the first time you met? 

Impossible. he was known as the demon prodigy after all when he was back in the port mafia, famous for being someone who had no remorse for murdering hundreds or committing endless heinous crimes. 

How troublesome. Such emotions were an obstacle to his goals. 

He tried to get rid of it. ignoring the guilt that was eating his heart away helped only a bit. But distractions helped. A few bottles of sake and his guilt would leave him for a while. 

But maybe paired with the fact that he couldn’t help nor save sakunosuke oda only made it worse. 

guilt was annoying. Troublesome, a nuisance. just about anything that was negative, he thinks, leaning back in his seat and ignoring the reports he has to write. 

actually, all emotions were useless. Was what he thought, turning around and around. 

…come to think of it, he never saw you in this universe before. nor even heard of you. 

maybe you don’t even exist right now. 

which is weird. since you seem to pop up randomly in every universe he’s in. 

really, really, reallyyyyyyy suspicious- 

“Ow!” 

A book hit his head, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

“Get to work dazai!” 

ah yes, classic kunikida. Always and forever strict and doesn’t like fun. Why were all math teachers like that? oh. even former ones. all they do is yell, scream, scold, yep math is definitely ruining the minds of everyone.

“Fineeee…these are boring though… I’ll do it later….” he whines, laying his head on his desk, drawing random shapes with his finger on the light brown wooden table. 

“Just do your work already!” Kunikida yelled, clearly at his breaking point.

“Come onnnn kunikidaaaaa just let me have some funn~” 

“You can have fun after work is over-“ 

“Aaah! sorry I'm late!” 

The agency’s door bangs open, and a disheveled young woman appears.

you?

he automatically freezes, eyes widening as he feels a chill run down his spine, dazai did just a quick double check to see if his vision is finally failing him.

the same eye colour? check.

the same hair colour? check.

the same height? check.

check, check, check.

fuck

Was what Dazai thinks after mentally checking off everything. His eyebrows furrowing. it was getting even more suspicious. Normally, you would die before he got to interact with you, so isn't this practically giving him a chance to know about you? What the hell does it- does it even fucking make sense? 

obviously not. 

which…didn’t make things any easier. 

kunikida mutters something under his breath before marching towards you, ready to give out yet another lecture. “Now why were you late?!” 

“uhm…I had to work a longer shift?” you said, shifting from one foot to the other. “Uh…it also didn’t help that there were more customers than usual..?” you added, awkwardly smiling as you sweatdropped nervously. 

“how many times do I have to tell you to fix your schedule?!” kunikida practically screams at you. “This has been the 5th time this month!” he stomps his foot before sighing, walking back to his seat and sitting down before checking his watch; “see? Now you’ve made me 3 minutes behind!” he groans, but promptly pushes back up his eyeglasses and opens back his computer to work.

“It wasn’t my fault- oh! new member huh? hi. want meat buns anyone?” you raise up a paper bag of warm buns, waiting for their response. instantly, almost everyone in that room raises their hand up. Except for kunikida and dazai.

“…we need to save some for president and haruno though.” Yosano reminded you as she reached into the bag for one. “i bought another bag of them, it’s fine!” you reassured her, then walked towards dazai.

 “hey, you. Do you like meat buns?” you ask, before letting him having a chance to answer, you stuffed the whole bun into his mouth when you got the chance, “it’s good right?” ignoring the fact that he may be choking right now. But who cares when you have dr. yosano? 

“Yep!” he replies after a while when he finished the bun, putting on a charming smile, pausing for a few moments before adding something utterly ridiculous; “would you be interested in committing a double suici-?” 

“no.” you interrupted, cutting him off. hitting his head with a folder you took from kunikida’s desk. Not noticing the slight ouch he let out. “I’m far too young to die yet.” You declare, taking out a bun and apparently practically inhaling it in less than a minute.

“What’s your name by the way?” “Dazai Osamu.” “That’s a weird name.” You remark, placing back the folder. “Anyways, I’m [name].“

“no last name?” “[name]’s surname is a mystery to everyone. only the president and ranpo know it, but apparently they wont even give a hint.” Yosano yawned stretching her arms.

“But, if you successfully guess what is her last name, you get half the money in her purse!” A random staff member chimed in.

“shut up!” you huff, “and my last name isn’t that important anyways! Besides, I’m not paying anyone for guessing my last name correctly-“

“all of you shut up! We won’t ever get any work done at this rate! Dazai, focus on your damned reports! [name]! Help organise these folders!”

kunikida hollered, now practically spitting fire. Well, to avoid trouble, everyone got to work. Expect for dazai that is. Unfortunately, he was still lazing around until you threatened to tell the president of his tardiness.

“Who knew [name] could be so strict? you really wouldn’t know her from just 3 years ago.” yosano teases as you glare at her. “Let’s not talk about that time.” You cringe, tensing up at the memory.

“ehh? but you were so cute back then! now you’re just a boring adult…” the doctor sighs, “at least I can go out to drink with you now.” she added, browsing through grotesque pictures of victims’ deaths. “oooo now this looks good…” she mumbled, absorbed in choosing the next picture to hang in her room. 

“Well im glad that I changed.” you say as you pour some coffee into your cup. How the coffee machine got placed on your desk was a wonder but no one asked why, already used to your rather unusual actions.

“Mmm…pretty sure you’re the only one that feels like that.” 

…

“I swear to God I’m gonna dieeee…” you slump in your chair, frowning after a few hours passed. evening had arrived and it was just about 6:00PM. The sun was in the process of setting, a warm orange-reddish glow settled around the agency.

everyone was occupied with something; dazai with his beloved a guide to suicide book, you with your day dreaming, kunikida with his work, yosano with her pictures, the staff with their own things, and ranpo who finally arrived after buying his snacks and is now feasting on them.

“there’s more work for today. Good job everyone. Feel free to home and rest.” the president suddenly appears from from his office, a black cat and haruno following him close behind.

Fukuzawa Yukichi: the man responsible for creating the Armed Detective Agency. the cat sat down the floor, then stared up at the president, letting out a small ‘meow!’ earning a few “awwws” from the agency staff and members.

“goodness…that cat is cute…” you murmur, playing with a pen. “I’ll bet I’ll scare the shit outta them the second i try to go near there though. what a shame.” You sigh before picking up your phone, after hearing numerous pings, you quickly scrolled through them, then got up, took your bag and started out.

“well then, thank you all for the hard work and please excuse me for leaving before you. I’ll see you all tomorrow then. Also! president! There’s a bag of meat buns for you and haruno! enjoy!” You waved, opened the door, and left. stretching your arms when you felt like you finally tasted the freedom of after finishing work.

you soon arrived at the train station, buying a ticket then entered the train. Suprisingly, there weren’t too much people. That’s good. after all, being stuffed in a train with loads of people like sardines in a can was never fun.

sitting down, you glanced out the window, admiring how pretty the sky looked when the sun was setting. Maybe you should wake up earlier tomorrow to see the sunrise…which would probably never happen since waking up in the mornings were hell.

nothing was really new. you followed the same routine everyday. wake up, brush your teeth, eat something, dress, then head to uzumaki cafe to work.

Which usually lasted until the afternoons. Then, you walked up to the agency’s office and helped with almost anything until your roommate spammed your messages to buy groceries or beer or whatever.

you’d head back, make dinner, do chores, shower, mess around then practically pass out in your bed until 7:00am and repeat.

you followed the same routine today as well, get back, made dinner, which today consisted of rice, vegetables, and soup. after that, you headed to bed a bit later than usual. due to innasomia from caffeine.

you really shouldn’t have drunk that much coffee at night.

either way, you were content with how things were. And you had thought that tomorrow would be the same as before until you woke up due to your phone ringing.

squinting at your clock, you wince. It was quite early: 8:00am and you only got 4 hours of sleep. just the day when you got the rare chance to head to work late.

groaning, you reached for your phone blindly, knocking down a few things until you could finally get a hold of it.

“…hello?” You groggily ask when you answer the phone, immediately snapping awake from your half asleep state after realising what the other person on the line just said.

“what the actual living fuck?”

rua’s notes : and that concludes the first chapter! whoaaaa it sure took a while huh :0 since it’s only the 1st, I wont immediately write abt the reader and osamu’s relationship :3 also, the reader has a ability ! (just wait a few more chapters) also chapter two will be focusing back on dazai !

thank u for reading this cringy ass fic that I stayed up all night writing !

[gretavanmoon]

an omnipresent force•

hey friends, so in recent days I've realized that Tumblr is nothing but an open place to dump our wild, running thoughts, right? a place to express our art and let creativity flow in its rawest form, whether or not the work is unfinished or tied up with a big red bow. my docs is littered with unfinished ideas and half-written junk, and they're just sitting there. why? they're collecting dust, and I don't like dust.

ive consulted with my nearest and dearests on if this thought process is wack or not, and they don't think it's TOO wack, I hope. but anyways, here's a little preview of something I started a long time ago. It's got a couple chapters complete, a couple outlined, but it has no end in sight. and I don't really care. I wanna share it, because I love it, and completing multi-book works is a feat I'm familiar with from writing the Vigilance & Valor worlds, and without @gretavangroupie encouraging me to write like the wind, those things would STILL be sitting in our docs COLLECTING DUST (with absolutely no fault to her stamina, but by fault of mine lol)

so I'm gonna post this, it's messy and unfinished and kind of unedited, because who cares? we read for indulgence and escapism, and we write for the same reasons.

maybe I'll finish this one day, maybe I won't. nevertheless, enjoy it my loves ;)

also ily so much @builtbybrokenbells & @farfromthehomelands for the encouragements

Warnings: Mentions of Death & Dying, Pain, Loss, Crying

•

“Do you remember it, Y/N? Do you? Are all of your memories still alive? Do not ever let your mind be one to settle, my love. You know that. That is essential.”

His voice is strangled and pained as he tries to speak quietly in the shadows that have fallen across the large room, pushing his words out with haste as his eyes scan behind me. Waiting, anticipating someone to come unnoticed into the room with us. I take sight of his rigid and shaking body laid out across the cot, the white sheet wrapped around his freezing self.

"What did they give you, Paps? What did they drop into your eyes?" I beg. His pupils are dilated and the whites of them are now a deep red, swollen and blotchy as he struggles to focus in on me.

"My memories, my love... they've tried to take them. But the rash, it's taking me faster..." he moans.

His calloused hands desperately grab at mine, the beds of his fingernails torn and caked with dirt. “Promise me you’ll never forget… the things we thought we’d have forever are long gone, now, and we’re never getting them back. Keep your memories, Y/N, think about everything that you can, often. Speak them, share them- but only when you know you’re surrounded by those you can trust. Otherwise, keep them within yourself, and use them to keep going. Keep pushing through to the next sunrise…” His wrinkled and bruised palm then rests gently across my chest as it heaves with sorrow and exhaustion. I can’t stop this… There’s nothing more I can do for him…

“I won’t, I won’t ever forget…” My promise feels futile in the moment as I croak the words out, but I know that I will take charge of myself and bring it to fruition when the time is right. When I don’t feel as though I’m going to drown in my own tears as they feel like puddles around me. When my chest isn’t weighed down with the guilt of leaving him behind without a proper burial. When my body isn’t begging me to run as fast as I can. 

I squeeze his hand. 

“We’ve never seen times this dark, my love, and I fear that you will be the one to see them even darker. But don’t fret, darkness is only the absence of light. And where there is light, there is love. Never let yourself forget.” A quick and tight smile ghosts my lips as I remember his favorite song. “The photos, the books, the songs… sing them all the time. Keep the melodies alive, and don’t ever let yourself forget the words.”

His fingers drift down the line of ink that paints my forearm, each tattoo a memory of times that we will never get back, sounds that we will never hear again unless we sing them out loud, hoping that our memories serve us right. His sullen eyes snap to me again as we both hear a crash in the room behind us. I rip my sleeve back down to cover my arm. Nothing to show my identity.

My body urges itself to prepare to run, and though he knows that I must, he pulls me back down to speak to me again, his voice still hushed and dry as his body wracks with pain.

“Remember when you were a child, no bigger than a grasshopper, and I’d sit you on my knee, teaching you how to put the needle on the record so you’d always have the ability? And how we’d sing the songs together, and I’d play the melodies on the piano… you’d dance, oh my love, you’d dance!”

“I remember, of course I do!” I cry through a weakened smile, the memory of standing on his feet as he twirled me across the firelit living room now feeling like it was a thousand years ago. 

“Never cease your movements, my sweet.” His eyes scan behind us again, his weak hands squeezing mine in return. “Move until your muscles are sore, move until your feet are tough and hardened. Keep your body in good health, because in turn your mind will act along with it. Remember the trees, remember the clouds. The grass, the streams, the way the air smells before a rain, keep it all…memorize it. Categorize, record, and repeat. Your grandmother’s recipes, they’re still in the book. Her plant descriptions, her foraging tools, her gardening plans… study them, Y/N. Memorize. I’ve taught you well, we all have, you must seek and find what’s on the other side of this, my love. You’re prepared, it’s up to you. Find your clan, sweetheart. This isn’t the end. Many have forgotten what the emotion feels like, by now. But you know what love is. Track it down, and hold onto it with everything you’ve got left. Do you hear me? Love, honey. There are more of us. The good ones, they're still left. Find them. Find them!”

I nod harshly as the noise behind us crashes again, likely pulling down my makeshift barrier of tables and chairs. His breathing is weakened, and his chest rattles with a sound no man should ever make.

“They can take our things, but they can’t take our memories. Ever.” He taps the side of his temple with one finger. He knows just as well as I do that they can take our memories, and they have. They've already begun to take his. But his immunity to their drugs and schemes still proves itself strong, just like mine does.

“Share them, please… pass them along, and remember the memories that others share with you, too. You’ve always had the biggest heart of all of us, don’t try and argue with me. You’ve got more wit in your little finger than we all had from our heads to our toes. And any of us would have willingly admitted that, my sweet. Go- get out of here, while you still can. Remember my words, my love. Our history can’t be unwritten if you keep it here, in your heart.” His frail, bruised fingers tap my chest again as if to remind me where my heart sits, still beating with strength as his struggles to pump his blood supply. “Run, love, go! And don’t even think about turning back for me. I’ll have taken my last breath before you even cross the threshold. 

I love you, you love me.”

As I bring his hands up to my trembling lips, I feel the coldness of them like I’ve never felt before, as if they had been sitting in a bowl of ice water. The sound behind me crashes again, this time louder, and I know they are getting closer to us, now. I kiss his digits and smooth his silver hair back, whispering out a choked ‘I love you back’ before I turn and let my feet carry me toward the light peeking from under the towering double metal doors.

I hear his voice in the distance, crackled but still just as powerful as the man that made it.

“Remember, your memories are your own. Go and find the good ones, Y/N! Find them!"

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[un-lawliet]

OH THANK GOD UR DOWN bc i just read beast and i was like.... abby would absolutely kill this so now i'm here as little humble cas anon once again asking for ur writing talent for beast!Dazai ahhhh <3

i think something like reader is working for the PM and just sort of observes Dazai as boss and how he seems so detached/lonely like he's planning something that only he knows abt and reader basically tries saying they're here for him if he needs to get anything off of his chest but naturally he would reject any and all warmth offered to him at this point but maybe you or someone else can come up with a better idea i'm just so? hype that u would consider writing this at all i love uuuu

THANK YOUUU FOR THE REQUEST (sorry for taking ages to post this) i hope ur well and i hope i did this justice !!

Pages (Beast!Dazai)

— In which you beg Dazai to let you in.

The Port Mafia Boss isn’t kind.

You know this as if you breathe it, you know this in the same way you know how your chest rises and falls rhythmically to the sound of your breath escaping your lungs.

Osamu Dazai, is not kind.

A man who wears stained bandages like armour, draped in black from head to toe, a constantly persistent smile stretching out his full features.

As if he and the Mafia are interlinked in a sick relationship, in which he himself became his own twisted personification of destruction when stealing the title of “Boss.”

Your skin crawls when he looks at you, your heart pounding within your chest, a melody of trepidation and what should be hate.

And yet when you stare at him under yoru apprehensive gaze, fearful to catch his eye and hold it, you pity him as though blind to your own sullied breath.

And Dazai knows this, and he loathes it, like he loathes his own understandings.

You are not a character in his plan, nor a plot in this narrative yet you reoccur timelessly in each chapter, a smudged, incomprehensible word on each page in which he can’t decipher.

This isn’t real. He repeats to himself again, moving his hand from his face and onto the cold wood surface of his desk.

His office is dark, the natural light from the day diminished in the dark curtains drawn across the windows, isolating him in blackness.

There’s a single light on his desk, painting a dull ray of light across his written ponderings, Atsushi’s name circled and underlined beside Aktugawa’s written in the same manner.

His writing looks frantic, written in a passionate haste of forethought. Each pen stroke getting more and more aggressive as you follow the line of text until arriving at the abrupt conclusion.

“Odasaku lives”.

There’s a knock on his door and he knows it’s you.

You always knock in patterns, a slight hesitation after the first time your knuckle meets the door surface, before following it through with two more knocks.

You don’t wait for him to allow you in, assuming you missed the sound of his voice, the door swings open and you walk in.

“Y/N” He greets, his gaze cutting into your narrowed eyes, adorned with a frown.

You bow your head slightly, attempting to grace him with a greeting devoid of apprehension.

The slight tip in your step blows your cover and you wince as an atonement of your failure.

“Are you busy Sir?” You ask, your hands clasped behind your back.

Dazai flicks a stray piece of paper away from his body, it floats off of his desk and slides across the floor towards you.

“I’m always busy.”

Your eyes flicker towards it and away, trying to absorb any and all traces of curiosity as you ignore the cursive writing before you.

It’s not your place to read into the Bosses writings.

You wring your hands thrice, feeling the indents of scars beneath your skin, they ground you, reminds you of your humanity in front of a man seemingly so devoid in anthropomorphism.

You clear your throat and start again, ignoring him entirely.

“You took me off the mission with the White Reaper.” You say, raising your head in indignation, “Why?”

And Dazai is sighing, he expected this, yet he is bothered by the accusation resting in your tongue.

“I’m the Boss of the Mafia, it’s not your place to question my actions.”

You shake your head, “No, you misunderstand me Sir…I’m questioning your change in actions.”

“You shouldn’t be questioning at all.”

His voice is dull with deflection yet devoid of defence.

You scowl.

“I’m perfectly capable in dealing with the agency.” You start, stepping forward, “My results prove as much, there is no reason for you to-”

Dazai raises his hand to silence you, and you fall short in your speech.

The conversation is a standstill.

It reminds him of every other time you had had this same conversation with him, this same issue.

You come into his office, your pretty face darkened with curiosity, brazen and confrontational.

He would find it endearing if he didn’t have to focus on his goal.

He doesn’t yearn for your company, in the same way as you do not yearn for his, yet, Dazai’s comically cynical adoration for what he cannot have, seems to always leave him lost.

Lost in your repeated silent battle of confrontation, in which your gun is your glare and his, his position.

And Dazai decides then and there, that whatever…this relationship was, he needed to lose it before it evades him and leaves him disjointed.

You hate how you tremble, and you hate it even more when he smiles at you from his cluttered desk.

Teeth bared, features stretched.

He’d be ugly if you hadn’t grown so use to his indicatives. If you hadn’t lost yourself in your pathetic persistence for empathy.

God, how you wished you could hate him.

“I’m not interested in your previous results.”

“Then what else do I have to-”

“I am interested in your reluctance to obey.”

You pause, your head cocking to the side like a mutt.

“I’m sorry?”

Dazai places his hands in-front of him, indicating that you are now being questioned, not him.

You’re trapped within his gaze.

“In every judgement I make, you are a constant…resistance.” He begins, still regarding you with that grotesque grin. “Why?”

You blink, your eyelids are a lot heavier when under investigation.

“I-”

“I am the boss, you are my subject.” He continues, cutting you off sharply, “Yet you protest every role I place you in, and attempt to disrupt the narrative I have planned for the Mafia.”

Your mouth parts, and you lose yourself in staring at him. His eyes narrow, the smile slowly melting off of his face into something more grim, even sinister.

You looked into his eyes, he couldn't look at you. Or perhaps, he looked right through you.

You couldn't tell.

His eyes were empty. He barely breathed. He was like a catatonic painting of a former human being, and a sadness, a paralysing, overbearing sadness seemed to flow through him like a river that had frozen up and died, killing all the life in it conclusively.

“Forgive me, Sir.” You whisper, your voice trailing off. “I didn’t realise I came across so strongly.”

You step towards him, your lip between your teeth.

“I took you off the mission, because you are not needed in this task.” Dazai replies, looking at you through his eyelashes as his head drops to look at the papers before him.

There’s a small crack in the curtains, allowing the sun to sneak into his office, its beam trails up his face and rests in his eyes. The honey in his eyes appears to reject the intrusion, and they appear more dead when illuminated.

You find it odd how he describes every mission as if they all are acts; leading to a grand finale, as if everything is meticulously planned to the end.

You wonder what the end even is.

Your hands shake.

“Is there…” You hesitate, “A bigger picture?”

Dazai’s head snaps to you and you freeze, hands raising as if begging for mercy for a crime you didn’t know you committed.

“I mean- A reason why you’re so exact with your mission plans.” You rush to finish, eyes wide.

Dazai just looks at you, his face flushed, eyebrows raised slightly.

He looks like a boy you think.

A tired, unenthused child, determined to get his way.

He’s hesitant, for the first time since he became Boss.

You step forward again, closing in on his desk.

Dazai doesn’t move, his eyes stuck on staring into yours, you almost miss his periodic blink.

“What are you suggesting?” He chooses to say, a guttural need to be understood overpowering his desire to be cunning.

You say nothing, reaching out.

He's statuesque to the touch. Cold.

You trace the curve of his face, trying to carve your way to the core, digging your nail into the plush of of his cheek to get him to feel something, to respond to anything.

You breathe in tandem to his silent gasps for air, smothered with the consequence of letting you see him so frail.

The inexpressive expression of himself taunts you. He knows too much, you wonder if that’s the sacrifice of being an agency leader: Giving up everything for a cause that becomes you, drinking the currency of blood that bathes the foundations of the mafia.

His scarf ends seem to bleed lose threads, and yet he doesn’t care to fix it, to replace it.

It’s not important what one should wear when ones’ intention is to die.

His hand grabs yours and you still, momentarily forgetting your place.

“Who are you?” He whispers, and you almost miss it.

His voice is lost in the space between the pair of you, it creates a wall of understanding which builds itself upon the uncertainty of your place.

The pair of you appear to still.

An amalgamation of typographical stratagems bundled together to create one sullied page, in which the boy finally lets someone read the misery carved deeply within blacks of his eyes.

“What is going on Sir?” You plead, desperate to understand, to fathom him and the entire working of the Mafia.

You hate not knowing what your purpose is, and so you rely on him to tell you, to trust you.

Your figure casts a shadow on his desk, and Dazai’s eye falls onto his desk.

“Odasaku lives.”

It’s as if a switch has been flicked, how he suddenly sits straighter, and smiles.

And God you’re so close you could slap the smile off of his face.

“Miss Y/N.” He says, his voice stronger, powerful.

You straighten, taking a step back, awkwardness flushing your face.

“Sir.” You reply, defeat settling in your gut.

“The Mafia, or more so, how it operates, should not concern you.”

His voice is harsh, tucked under a fierce need for order.

“I order, as your Boss, to not return to my office unless the matter is important.”

“But this-” You start.

“Fail to comply.” He pauses, “And I will have to remove you entirely.”

His voice is so cold, so…

His smile, once so filled with determination, had cracked into something bitter, almost remorseful and you swear you could see regret swarm him.

He gestures to his door, “If that’s everything, please, see yourself out.”

The Port Mafia Boss isn’t kind.

A man who hides his secrets like the skin on his arm, draped in a constant melancholy, a persistent string of deceit hidden within his smile.

You know this like you breathe it.

And so, you do as your told, his door swinging shut behind you.

Masterlist <3

(A/N: i don’t think i like this as much- as in, i don’t think it’s my best :( beast dazai is hard to write !!!!! but i miss CAS anon so i hope it’s alright </3 sorry for making u wait for months i love you and thank u for the request !!!!)