#the fact he dresses so nice and always takes care of himself first

[rinz-aspirinz]

Exhausted. Fear. Exhausted.

Gn!MC x Lucifer.

Author's notes: I don't know, nothing? This is just a quick study on MC and Lucifer's dynamic from my view + word vomit lmao

Beginning.

The Avatar of Pride is hard to humiliate. The Anti Lucifer League would know, they’ve been trying and failing for decades. He finds a reason to be prideful in everything, whether it’s dressing up as a bunny boy, a butler or being a dame. He’s the best at everything imaginable and he will say so with so much confidence it would make Leviathan cry.

Though he doesn’t know if he could ever talk about what forces him to be best at everything let alone be proud of it.

The first thing he does in the morning is check up on his brothers. That is also when he gets his first migraine of the day usually. He loves his brothers deeply but sometimes he feels like they’re getting revenge for the pain he caused them with how many problems they give him every day.

It’s not like he could blame them if it was the case but he can still admit it would hurt.

At RAD, everyone admires him but doesn't dare to make eye contact with him– most of the students don’t even breathe in his direction. It feeds his pride but that pride dies quietly as the day goes on.

Paper after paper, document after document, sign after sign, coffee after coffee, report after report; it never ends. Having to go to extreme lengths to make sure Diavolo doesn’t get to take advantage of his exhaustion to take some pictures and maintain the peace between him and his brothers is a cherry on top. The amount of broken walls and ceilings at RAD is concerning, the fact that Diavolo merely laughs whenever the damage is reported to him is even more concerning but he’s not about to say anything about it anytime soon. He’ll just hang his brothers to the ceiling for now.

At night, he doesn’t sleep. It’s either a dreamless nap that lasts three hours at most (and he’s sure Belphegor is the reason it’s dreamless. He doesn’t sleep long enough to let his brother give him nice dreams but he appreciates the lack of nightmares too. He never says anything about it.), he’s learned the hard way that anything more is either impossible thanks to migraines or will end up with nightmares.

He’s in a cage.

When MC enters his life, they change everything.

They change everything for the better.

He doesn't have to wake up and check on his brothers anymore. MC woke up earlier than him to take care of everyone. They all chat peacefully and go to RAD without any problems.

There are dark circles under MC’s eyes.

The amount of paperwork he has to deal with decreased. MC always takes a pile away from him without letting him say anything. They also occupy Diavolo to let him work in peace.

Their handwriting is shaky. So, so unnaturally shaky.

Now he can sleep at night. He hugs them close as they crawl under his silk covers and wraps his wings around them.

He threatens to tear them apart limb by limb in their dreams. Belphegor somehow sleeps more than usual to give them nicer dreams. He never says anything about it either.

He sees himself improving and gets to taste rightful pride. He’s well rested. He’s not so paranoid anymore. He spends time with his brothers. He takes care of himself. He spends time with MC as they do his paperwork. He spends time with MC as they sacrifice their sleep for him. He spends time with MC after they spend the entire day taking care of his brothers. They’ve forgotten who they belong to so he’ll monopolize their entire afternoon.

Rightful pride.

They destory themself as he builds himself from his ashes but it’s okay. He loves their broken pieces too. He loves them.

He loves the way their eyes light up when they see him.

(Fear. Dark circles. Exhaustion.)

He loves the way their much smaller hands wrap around his.

(They’re shaking. Exhaustion. Exhaustion. Exhaustion.)

He loves the way they curl up next to him in bed.

(Limb by limb. Fear. Fear. Fear.)

He’s out of his cage.

(They’re inside one.)

He loves them.

End.

[duck-ducks]

Thomas rents a semi truck that he affectionately nicknames Dolly.

“Dolly” however, just so happens to be a very embarrassed, very unamused, undercover Optimus Prime.

 She was a beauty. 

Gleaming red paint, newish tires, and a cute face like decal on the steering wheel and grill. 

And now she was all Thomas Winston’s, for the short foreseeable future as she was a rental from the company he worked for and in fact they had insisted that he take the very nice and somewhat new looking truck for his next haul. For half the price he would have expected too.

Why they specifically wanted this truck to get a bunch of crates of rocks, who knew and honestly who cared. The engine ran nicely and she drove smooth as hell. Thomas wasn’t about to complain about the oddities a bunch of pencil pushers had about which trucks were to pick up some shiny rocks.

Getting on the highway this early ensured the road was damp and empty. That worked out pretty well for Thomas, he was quite fond of just driving on the open road with just he, himself, and him. The only sound being the engine running, the tires on the road and, the radio quietly playing some country song about how great red dresses and beer are. 

It was perfect.

Now all he needed was a name for the truck.

Thomas had nicknamed every truck he rented no matter how long he was in them, some little thing would stick out about the truck, the job, or just general events. Thus far the only thing was the insistence that this particular truck be taken on the haul but nothing nickname worthy so far.

He patted the steering wheel. “We’ll find something to call you, I'm sure.” 

The song on the radio ended and the host began talking way too excitedly for this early in the morning, just as he thought to change the station the next song began. A song he knew well, it was one of his daughter’s favorites, Jolene by Dolly Parton. Madeline was all grown up now but when she was little she would dance around the kitchen and living room with Sherry, the most beautiful woman in the world that he got to call his wife, while Dolly Parton played.

Dolly had first played first on a radio that had both cassette player and cd player while matching brunette heads twirled and hopped around and then later on an ipod speaker, some of that hair a little grayer and now on a bluetooth speaker that you can talk to, a single all gray head swayed and hummed. 

It was always Dolly that he would come home to then and after this haul was done he hoped it would be Dolly that he came home to now.

Jolene ended, and with a few words from the radio host played ‘here you come again.’ 

“Well how about that? You know this will be my last drive and I hope I’ll be hearing a lot more like this once I’m home more." The little face on the steering wheel didn’t look back at him. “Dolly is as good a name as any and you seem as good a truck.” and thus it was decided the pretty red truck would be Dolly.

~~~

 Optimus was not amused by this development.

He didn’t like that he needed a driver for the long drive. He didn’t like that none of the agents who knew what he was didn’t have the right license to drive him so that had to get someone else, which meant he would have to go the entire drive stuck in his alt mode and unable to talk, thankfully it could be made in one day.

To make matters even worse his high command had insisted he keep his internal comm on just in case something happened, so whoever was on monitor duty could hear everything that his driver said.

Including his delightful new nickname. 

He was unable to voice his annoyance while his driver was still around however he was currently working on a scathingly worded email to his two dear “friends.”

And because the universe would not grant Optimus any peace. “I ain’t making fun of you Prime, I mean I wouldn’t want to hurt your feelings you’re just a purty little thin-” Ironhide wasn’t able to fully finish his remark before Ratchet silenced him via what Optimus hoped was a fist to the side of the head. “Hey! I thought medics weren’t allowed to cause harm!”

“Don't worry I’m sure the thickness of your helm will have protected you.” technically they were only supposed to contact Optimus if there was an emergency, but Ironhide as one of his oldest friends decided it was his duty to make fun of him whenever the chance was given. Ratchet was but an innocent bystander to the scoffery and was coming to his rescue- “Obviously you have to be careful with your words around someone as delicate as Dolly Prime.” Optimus could hear the laughter in Ratchet's voice.

“Dolly Prime, name granted to him by the great Thomas.” Ironhide never did know when to quit.

Optimus was tempted to end the open comm. Nothing was happening, it was early and dark and there was no danger. He could just reopen it if anything were to happen.

“Maybe we shouldn’t have sent him on his own. I mean I would be devastated if anything were to happen to our beloved Do-” 

His rationalization and the self preservation of his sanity won. He clicked the comm off.

~~~

 A couple hours later he and Dolly had arrived. 

The whole thing had seemed strange as soon as he had pulled into the parking lot. 

The place was creepy. Crates upon crates of these blue rocks sat inside the warehouse, various people in suits stood around by all the exits and a man in an even fancier suit had talked to Thomas while the crates were loaded onto Dolly. 

Fancy suit man had introduced himself as senior director Hendrickson, he didn't say what he was the director of but he had bought Thomas lunch from a local grocery store and asked that he not leave while the truck was loaded as they intended to be as fast as possible. 

Sitting a distance away he could see a couple people talking in the direction of Dolly. They didn’t look like they were talking to each other, they also didn’t look like they were interacting with each other at all, just talking at the truck.

~~~

 Being loaded was an uncomfortable affair. Humans tended to forget, even when talking to him, that he could feel every time they touched him. Most would step in little crevices to lift themselves onto Optimus, stack things unevenly, and tell him things he was certain they wouldn’t have told other humans. He was sure if they worked efficiently he could have been back on the road much faster but they insisted that their way of doing things was superior to any of his suggestions. Stubborn little things humans were, it was sometimes a blessing but currently a bit of a curse. 

Agent Fowler had not been assigned to this particular matter and that in of itself meant a little more discomfort for Optimus. Fowler was good at convincing his fellows to seriously consider Optimus’s opinions on the little matters. Such as not stepping on his tires to give themselves a little lift when he had foot holds for that very reason damn it. 

He knew this trip was important, he didn’t want to send only humans to deal with the energon collection. It was a bit unstable in its solid crystal form, should anything happen, such as the appearance of a decepticon, he would be more comfortable being able to handle it himself.

Having said that, He was not about to suddenly become fond of senior director Hendrickson putting his foot on the front of his grill. He was uncomfortable, he had dirt in his seams and he couldn’t talk louder than a whisper in fear that his driver would hear him. How much trouble would it bring if he told senior director Hendrickson off, if Optimus just told him where he could shove it. How much damage would that really do to human relations? The director has had to deal with the twins before, with Sunstreaker he knows how belligerent an annoyed cybertronian could be.

Thomas’s unimpressed voice stopped Optimus from making a minor mistake in mild enemy making.  “There's dirt on your boots. I don't want to return her all dirtied up.” Her, while Optimus still didn’t fully understand human gender customs he had become used to being referred to with masculine pronouns, It didn’t really make much of a difference to him besides straying from the usual. The way Thomas said ‘her’ was with an underlying fondness to it. He must say it a lot in a way that speaks of love without outright saying it. “I wouldn’t want to make a bad impression on anyone even if I wont see them again, and bringing back a truck with muddy footprints on the grill isn’t all that great of a thing to do now is it?” 

senior director Hendrickson sheepishly removed his shoe from Oprimus’s grill. Thoroughly chastised the man begrudgingly mumbled an apology only partially directed towards the one he had his gross shoe on.

Optimus would have liked to thank Thomas alas he was stuck playing an unliving truck. 

“Well Dolly, it is time to head back from whence we came.” Thomas patted his side as one would pat the shoulder of a friend. Optimus elected to not consider that he might have been patted like a dog. “Anything else I need to know about before I go?” He asked.

senior director Hendrickson shook his head and made his blessed exit. 

~~~

 Back on the road Thomas would put in his two cents that this drive back felt different. How so he didn’t quite know yet but he would figure it out before the end of this circuit. 

The radio was significantly less interesting now only playing obnoxious new age country that was teetering on the edge of becoming pop. it wasn’t the worst but now it was grating even after such a short time. The radio knob seemed a bit finicky when Thomas tried to turn it. It didn’t really turn like it should and it turned back almost immediately and hadn’t even changed the station at all. 

He took a moment to glare at the knob just to visually show his disappointment to the inanimate object before trying again to change the station. It changed to static and nice and smoothly as if it had been working the whole time, changed to some slow orchestral music.

It wasn’t the kind of music he would normally listen to but it was alright enough.

It certainly wasn’t, however, the kind of music that went with almost hitting a deer in a semi truck.

Which was what happened. 

A lone deer barreled into the road in the direct path of Dolly. Thomas was not going to be able to stop before he hit this deer. It was going to become a wet red smear on Dolly’s grill making much more of a mess than senior director Hendrickson’s shoe. Thomas in the short two seconds that he had to process and act to the deer had very few choices and no time to make said choices. 

The truck swerved. Thomas had not moved the steering wheel and the truck swerved, there was a loud clicking, metal on metal slid together moving apart and back together and a large hand extended from the passenger side pushing the ground to prevent the cab from tipping.

The deer continued running across the road disappearing into the woods on the other side. Dolly straightened out steadily, speeding back up to the speed limit.

“Oops.” the voice hadn’t been loud yet Thomas had heard it as if it had blared over the radio. The noncorporeal voice was not nearly as much a shock as the truck moving on its own.

Thomas no longer had his foot on the gas pedal. Dolly continued driving steadily down the road, thankfully there weren’t many others on the road at this time. 

Thomas was tense and unmoving. “This isn’t some bluetooth remote control shit is it?” it wasn’t really a question. Thomas wasn’t an expert on technology, he didn’t know the ins and outs of the internet or how coding worked, his daughter had to help him set up Sherry’s smart tv and despite having been there for the entirety of the set up he still didn’t fully understand how to use it. This he knew was not that kind of thing, this wasn’t something a human could make into a truck. What Dolly actually was he didn’t know, man made it surely wasn’t. “What are you?”

~~~

 What if he said nothing, what if he just dumped Thomas off on the side of the road and let senior director Hendrickson deal with the entire situation. It was an option. He could do that and just make a comm to headquarters letting the human department know where he had left the poor old man they had involved in this mess. 

Optimus wasn’t going to do that, it was a useless train of thought because Optimus was never one to let others deal with difficult situations if he was involved or could involve himself.

“My name is Optimus Prime. I am an autonomous robot from the planet Cybertron. I mean you no harm.” he had been told before that his usual introduction came on a little strong, nonetheless it was the quickest way to establish who and what he was.

“What the hell is an autonomous robot and why are you a truck?!” His “driver” was not understanding. Perhaps because Optimus was in his alt mode, the other humans had seen him in his bipedal form before he had explained what he was. That may have played a part in their understanding during the distress that is finding out about extraterrestrial beings that have taken harbor on their planet. 

“My name is Optimus Prime and I am an Autobot soldier who has taken refuge on your planet.” Thomas was making him nervous. He was slowly folding his arms and his face was turning from shock to a more stern anger. 

 A similarity between cybertron and earth is that on both planets the government really does ruin everything.

“I don't understand what you are,” Rude, what was there not to understand. “but you can move on your own so why am I here?” a reasonable question, even Optimus didn’t understand the humans insistence that he needed someone in his passenger seat. What was the point? He had been driving without one for years and never had any problems but then the government got involved and he was no longer “allowed” to drive on populated roads without a real human driver.

“I must apologize for startling you but the agency that I am harbored by insisted that I require a human driver.”

“Why didn’t they send someone who already knew about you?”

“They were unable to get somebody with a CDL license fast enough.” It was true. Apparently most of the agents with the licence were on either vacation or already away on assignment. Optimus had assumed incorrectly that they would leave him be for once but fate wasn’t that kind. 

Thomas started to relax. He sat back in Optimus's seat and looked around as if he was looking for oddities in the cab. “An alien robot. Huh.” he scoffed.”My last day working and I got the revelation that aliens exist. My daughter would love this.”

“I have found that many of our young human friends do find delight in the discovery of other living beings beyond their galaxy.” 

“Beyond our galaxy. Huh. you’re far from home aren't you?”

“Very. we are not quite sure where our planet resides now, it is dead and no longer in the orbit it once was.” Optimus had wondered before if humans could feel cybertronian fields or if they were just very perceptive. Cybertronians would act sad to show empathy but they didn’t truly feel the sadness they portrayed. Humans did, they would feel the emotion and confide in eachother with sharing experiences of the same or similar to the situation. The melancholy on Thomas’s face showed an understanding of some kind. He could tell that Thomas wanted to ask more about this, every human did they wanted to know about another planet and how one died.

“No, cybertronians have taken an array of different alt modes from land vehicles to air crafts as well as a few boats. We are a diverse transforming species. After arriving on your planet we took the form of non sentient vehicles to blend in and hide from our main enemies as well as any others who may want to cause us harm. Although we have made a many friends among your species, we have seen the cruelty of which humanity is capable.” 

“I take it by ‘we’ you mean there are more of you, are you all trucks?” It was said in good casual humor. A segue into a conversation less heavy was appreciated.

Thomas had many questions, many of which Optimus got to expound upon more than usual when it came to the introduction of other planetary life. 

It was calming, the frustration of the day melted away in the explanations of histories of his beloved planet and mechanical living technicalities. Even the traffic that had built was of no remark on Optimus’s now created good mood. 

Until.

“Ah, our drive is almost over.” It was a pity, Optimus was so enjoying the calm. Pulling into the driveway he reminded Thomas to put his hands back on his steering wheel. He’d prefer not to have to fill out the NDA paperwork. What would it hurt if one soon to be retired older man knew of his existence and he was already going to be in trouble about turning his comm off. Explaining the entirety of the situation to Thomas only made him laugh for a reason unknown to Optimus. 

Maybe a little louder than necessary. “I do believe me and Dolly had a mighty fine time.” He forgot about the nickname. And of course there was Ironhide slowly creeping his sorry aft into Optimus’s line of vision. Oh what's that? Ratchet just behind him why not. “Well Dolly! This is where we must part ways. It was a pleasure.” The bastard just patted him. Dog or friend he really wasn’t sure. 

Optimus should have just suffered through the paperwork.

 Maybe they would meet again one day, for now Thomas just wanted to get home to the most beautiful woman in the world who would be dancing around the kitchen to Dolly.

~~~

[5-htagonist]

why arthur morgan got girl autism

[thesilmarillionblog]

STRANGER

Summary: Although you were always aware that Black Noir was silent, it didn't stop you from quickly developing a bond. However, as soon as he touches you when he gets home, something about him feels off. You ignore his attitude since it still feels so nice, despite the fact that it feels like he is someone else entirely, a stranger.

Pairing: Black Noir / Reader

Warnings: Dark Fiction!, +18!Only, Smut, Suspense

Word Count: 2423

A/N: English is not my first language.

You asked Homelander and Ashley if Noir had been assigned to another mission because you were getting frustrated that he had not texted you back for days and had suddenly vanished. You were relieved when they informed you he had a lot on his plate, but you were also annoyed because it wasn't like him to ignore you or return your texts. One of his great virtues was that he would always text you back, even when you believed he was going to rip a head off during those missions.

Though you knew he couldn't talk which was a big obstacle for a healthy conversation, you moved his house months after you started dating without a second thought. You weren't in the slightest disturbed by that. Since actions speak louder than words, it was actually preferable if men said nothing at all. And Noir certainly knew how to express his affection for you.

You giggled uncontrollably at the memory of his adorable actions toward you. Even though he appeared tough and ruthless when wearing that black suit, he was always warm and affectionate with you. He was regarded by the world as one of the most formidable, vicious, and dangerous supe alive, yet you were aware of his extreme thoughtfulness and sensitivity, particularly with regard to his relationship with you.

No matter how much you wanted to see him, you didn't push him, even if he didn't take off his mask or suit at all while you were around. You knew he was extremely sensitive about how he looked and everything. When he finally trusted you enough to show himself to you, you knew he would eventually open himself up. 

You made the decision to dress elegantly and boldly for his gaze when he eventually texted you back to say he would be home tonight. You knew he liked you in short, lace-covered satin gowns. It had been nearly two weeks since he returned home, and you were aware that he missed you just as much as you did. 

It was when he eventually came home, after you had been waiting for him for hours with your dress on and messaging him nonstop, that you understood how much you liked him. You couldn't help but think about him and grin to yourself at all of your adorable times together when he acted a little goofy and awkward.

As he slowly made his way inside the home, you said, “Hey,” and gave him a quick hug. "Welcome home."

Noir offered you a strong hug in return and nodded as if he wanted to say the same thing. You then landed a firm kiss through his mask and said, “I've missed you too.”

As Homelander and Vought cautioned him not to talk, especially when you were around, Black Noir tried his hardest to remain silent. It was told to him that you were Noir's partner, and since Vought already had too much on its plate these days, it would be best if you didn't realize he wasn't the real Noir. He didn't mind you acting like your adorable, naive lover since he had seen your pictures and the way you texted him as though you were in heat, making it obvious that you wanted to be fucked till you were unable to walk.

As a result, he would enjoy the ride as well, providing for your needs in the manner that was expected of him. When they showed your picture, he didn't really care about Vought and all that, but now he thought it would be fun because you seemed so eager to please him with that slutty, lovely fucking dress. 

You said, “How went?” as if he could respond, but it didn't feel strange for you to remain silent. If one of you stayed quiet the entire time, it would be odd.

Noir kept himself from talking and instead studied your body and outfit with fascination, which made you chuckle. As though you could see him, he turned out the lamp, and you didn't object, supposing it was just one of his insecure times. 

You sat on his lap and softly touched his covered face before responding with a whispered “Why the hell you didn't text me back for days?” in an attempt to sound like a mad woman. “You didn't behave like that before, you know.” 

Under his mask, Noir gave you a mischievous smile as his hands boldly stroked your body, growing harder every second as he saw your nipples peek from your thin dress, giving the impression that you wanted a quick and brutal fuck. 'Who would have thought that mission would be so hot and delightful?' he thought as his gloved hand squeezed your hips until you nearly moaned with pain. He was touching your pussy firmly and passionately, making it wet. 

You removed the stupid plastic item covering his cock with your hands and began slowly grinding against his clothed shaft while moaning, “You're such a turn-on today? Did you really miss fucking me that much?”

Noir gulped down, and as you kept continuing to moan and gasp loudly, one of his hands tightly pinched your tits. “Did you miss filling me with your hot seed into my pussy? When you finally texted me back today, I fingered myself while thinking about your huge cock.”

The filth flowing from your lips made him extremely hard, and once he filled up your dress, he gave your ass a hard spank. 

You groaned in protest when he abruptly lifted you off his lap. He forced you to your knees before you could say anything, gripping your hair firmly as he struggled to get his cock out of his suit. He stretched his legs and drew your head toward himself while you were kneeling in front of him on the edge of the bed. You were taken aback by his sudden harshness and passion because you had never sucked him off before. Maybe the fact that you hadn't fucked in weeks was the reason he was feeling so kinky this evening.

Excitement filled your body as you waited for him to finally reveal his cock. Before you could even say anything, he pushed your head against his cock, forcing you to suck him. 

Noir made a determined attempt to stop himself from giving you orders to properly suck him off and wet his dick as your tongue quickly lapped the tip of his shaft. As you gave him a head, he grabbed one of your hands and put it on his cock, urging you to use your hands. 

“You're so thick, you know, it's hard to take it all,” you remarked as you placed your hands on his balls and sucked the sensitive head of his thick cock. “You taste so good.”

Noir let out a soft and low chuckle as you did your best to satisfy him and make him cum. You were such a good cocksucker it was disappointing he couldn't give you any compliments. He smiled thinking about how would your boyfriend respond seeing you sucking a stranger’s cock so eagerly.

When you swallowed his head, he moaned angrily, as you were only able to take half of his cock. He took hold of your hair and began giving you hard pushes until your nose touched his pubic hair. 

When he began to fuck your face, you attempted to pull away as his hands applied heavy pressure to your head until the tip of his cock touched your throat and tears streamed down your cheeks. He was always extremely particular about being clean and well-groomed, so when you saw he didn't shave, you were somewhat taken aback. He made you take up every inch of his hardness, pushed your head into his balls, and waited till you tapped his legs in an attempt to regain your breath. 

After he finally released your head a bit, you muttered, “You're extremely rough tonight.”

Even though he was harsh, you were so attracted to his behavior that you began to suck him the way he preferred, taking his entire shaft and rubbing his balls, wetting them with your saliva.

You pushed yourself to get him to cum in your mouth as soon as you sensed him getting closer.

You teased him, “Where do you want to cum?” as you continued to stroke his throbbing erection.

Noir slowly withdrew his cock from your lips, stilled your head, and began to fuck into your mouth, pressing the tip of his cock on your tongue so you could taste its salty essence. He was savoring the facial expressions you made and your sensual groans, and he growled with pleasure as he thought he was fucking real Black Noir's girlfriend's mouth and he was about to fuck his girlfriend's pussy. 

He removed his cock from your mouth and stroked your lips and cheeks with his cock while holding it as if he were fucking your face. After some time, he stopped wanting to cum in your mouth or on your face. 

When you attempted to put him in your mouth again, he growled in disapproval and threw you into the bed while trying to help you get up. With a swift and forceful motion that left you gasping in dismay, he forced your face against the mattress and tore off your underwear quickly. 

Although you weren't prepared for him to behave in this manner, you waited for him to lead you in the direction he wanted since you were eager to please him and you were already turned on by him. 

Noir stretched your legs apart and checked the intensity of the wetness by sticking two fingers inside your pussy. He groaned in satisfaction as he saw that you had already gotten wet, and he removed his meaty fingers with ease. 

You let out a loud cry and pushed him to move more quickly as he roughed you with his fingers. You let out a cry of pleasure as soon as you began to clench around his fingers. Once your climax subsided, he pulled you more into the sheets, thinking that this would be the time when he would finally turn you back and act a little more romantically. You let him have his fun, figuring he wanted to play hard this evening. 

Noir played with your clit from behind, taking his throbbing manhood into his fingers and giving himself short, rapid strokes. Upon realizing that you were anticipating his fuck with your legs apart, he gasped with delight. 

Breathless, you gasped as he began to press his shaft into your wetness. His gloved hands gripped your hips firmly as he began a quick and violent fuck. His big balls were slamming into your clit, producing obscene noises that filled the room. 

You were gasping out and raising your hips to meet his strong thrusts as Noir's hardness throbbed into your pussy. He pounded into you with powerful strokes, gripping your hair and pulling it while you clutched the sheets beneath your fingers under his instense fuck. 

You whined, “Fuck, you are so good,” your eyes welling up with tears due to the intensity of the moment. “Fuck me harder.” 

Under the mask, Noir grinned at your filthy actions and the way you urged a total stranger to give you more fucking, like a whore. He began fucking you from behind even more forcefully after pulling off your hair. You were screaming like a bitch in heat, and you had no idea that you were fucking a stranger. He thought you were a free chick for him to enjoy himself to the fullest. He would count himself fortunate.

Sensing his approaching closeness, he moved slightly and reached your sweet spot, giving you multiple orgasms before spilling inside of you. Your legs trembled wildly as you clamped around his cock after he found your sensitive spot and gave you an aggressive fuck there. Your pussy felt so sensitive that you tapped his legs to get him to slow down, but instead he fucked you even harder and struck the same area repeatedly, leaving you speechless. 

“Fuck, Noir,” was the only thing you could say. “It feels sensitive.” 

But instead of slowing down, he continued to fuck you through your climax until he made you cum on his cock once more. Your legs were shaking, and you were screaming his name in between endless orgasms. He was forcing himself not to laugh out loud while you kept orgasming under a stranger.

He pushed all of his length into your pussy and began spilling himself into you as he continued to fuck you after he decided you had come on his cock enough. You again clenched around his cock as his thick white ropes filled your insides. When he felt your pussy continued to clench around his shaft with eagerness, and he moaned with satisfaction. It seemed to him that you were a needy one, and he would be thrilled to give what you needed.

Your legs continued to shake as you felt his thick seed leaking out of your pussy, and you grinned and bit your lip, satisfied. You felt a deep sense of satisfaction, and you had no idea that you could get so many orgasms so quickly. Noir did give you a hard fuck during certain times, but that was the first time he used such force on you and ignored your boundaries, of which you were glad. You felt that he ought to have revealed more of his personality sooner. 

Noir met your tongue, palmed your pussy from behind, and put his weight on your back. He pulled his mask halfway to give you a firm kiss, you realized.

You gasped in horror as his lips found your ear, and he whispered into the darkness, “Not bad, darling.”

[farfromstrange]

“What if the way you hold me is actually what’s holy?” | Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x F!Reader

Warnings: SMUT! (18+), shower setting, oral f!receiving, masturbation, fantasizing, beard appreciation (kink?), dirty talk, mentioned unprotected p in v, slight Dom!Matt, DDBA!Matt, improper thoughts about a certain crucifix necklace, (kind of) religious symbolism, mentions of choking, praise kink, pet names, “good girl”, not perfectly edited (shocker)

Summary: Fantasies about your late-working boyfriend take over your much needed self-care shower—until he’s suddenly (and unexpectedly) right in front of you when you are about to take care of the problem yourself.

A/n: So, the Born Again trailer brought me back from the dead and made me so fucking needy for this man. I thought this would be the best opportunity to rewatch Daredevil and practice writing Matt again because I’ve been a bit out of practice lately. Let’s just say the experiment was successful, but I definitely owe it to my hormone levels. The gif below inspired this fic (as it probably has done to many writers in the fandom these past two days). Anyway. If you want to listen to the song I was listening to while writing, it’s “Guilty As Sin?” By Taylor Swift, hence the title. Other than they, enjoy, and feedback is always appreciated!

Read Me On AO3!

The warm water from the shower head above runs down your clammy skin, seeping into your pores and aching muscles. You have been dreaming about this ever since you got home from work. 

The apartment is quiet, save for the little noise you make in the bathroom. Matt called you earlier, telling you he would be late and that you shouldn’t wait up for him; you expected as much after he and Foggy caught a high-profile case a couple of weeks ago. 

When he isn’t busy at work, he tries to fulfill his duty to protect the city. You’re not mad; you knew what you were signing up for when you fell in love with him, but that doesn’t change the fact that you miss him sometimes. Or rather, all the time. It doesn’t matter if he’s at work or wandering around in red leather, searching for a fight—you always miss him. 

There’s not a day that goes by that you’re not worried he might not come back to you. You can only hold on to the thought of him coming home in the middle of the night, crawling into bed beside you because he’s too tired to shower, wrapping his arms around you as though you are the only thing anchoring him to reality. It makes you appreciate what you have in him. 

The thing about Matt is that he feels he has to do penance for every little thing he has ever done, whether his actions hurt people or not; he loathes himself for who he is, which is absurd to you but to him, it makes sense. Perhaps it’s the catholic in him, or all those years of losing soulmates, or maybe it’s both.

His shampoo smells faintly of sandalwood and the rainforest, but only if you focus closely. You like that it makes your skin soft, and when you wrap yourself in his silk sheets at night, it’s almost like he’s all over you before he physically can be. 

You close your eyes and you focus on the feel of him, imagining your hands are his. You imagine his calloused fingers trailing over your heated skin, exploring every dip and every curve, even though he already knows the wonderland of your body inside and out. His lips on yours, traveling down your neck to your shoulder to your chest… a shiver runs down your spine, pooling in your core. You’re on fire, and he isn’t even with you. 

He’s at the office, sleeves probably rolled up, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone, loosening his tie with that strained look he gets when he’s stressed. Or maybe he’s on his way to Fogwell’s Gym so he won’t disturb you before he puts the suit on, fists raining down on a sandbag as sweat drips down his body, and he grunts whenever he lands a hit. 

You were just trying to have a nice shower, but Matt always manages to invade your every thought like a burglar on a mission. 

It’s just not fair how he always looks so sinful when he’s at his wit’s end. Oh, you love that look he gets when he’s feral. And you suddenly remember how long it has been since you got to touch each other. Since he let the devil out on you. Since he came home in the middle of the night and fucked you into the mattress because he was still so full of adrenaline. 

It has been so long since you two got to have a nice dinner together and you last rode him on his leather couch until you were both sticking to it, not even thinking about stopping; since he devoured you for hours and hours and hours until you were almost severely dehydrated and overstimulated from the orgasms he tore from you. 

You bite your lip so you won’t moan into the void of the bathroom. If you touch yourself now, he will know when he comes home. For a moment, you consider it. You slide your hand from your chest down your stomach. The water is slowly starting to grow cold. You just need to take the edge off.  Lower, lower, and lower, and—

“Don’t,” Matt’s voice reverberates in your ear. His hand slides over yours, calloused fingers on the back of your hand. 

The veil of fantasy burns to the ground. Your heart stops, then picks up the pace at a million miles an hour. In an instant, you turn around to face him, a gasp dying on your lips.

He’s right there, clothes discarded on the floor before the shower, no doubt. The golden crucifix around his neck offers a sinful contrast to his milky skin. You have always wondered if he was made out of marble rather than skin and bone. How can one person be this beautiful—this close to perfection and still be human? 

Matt is close enough for you to feel his heartbeat against your own. His hands slide to your forearms to make sure you don’t slip. You can see your wrecked reflection in his hazel irises. 

His unfocused gaze is right on you, boring through your skull into your soul. Only he can read you like an open book, listen to your body, and know exactly what you want, what you crave. He thinks of himself as the devil, but all you see is an angel. He’s the sun. To you, at least, he’s everything. The moon, the sun, the stars, and the entire fucking universe.

He caught you when you were about to touch yourself, and he’s naked. Really fucking naked. This is not how you imagined tonight to go. 

His chest heaves with a deep inhale of your scent, forehead coming to rest against yours. 

“You’re home,” you whisper. 

His lips curl into a smile—not a smirk but a genuine smile. “Yeah.”

“But you said you guys had that case, and then you were gonna go out…”

Matt cuts you off, “I missed you,” he says. “Couldn’t go out without seeing you.”

He chose you over the city. You never doubted Daredevil meant more to him than you, but hearing it out loud almost brings tears to your eyes.

“I missed you too,” you answer. So much. Days, weeks, seconds, all the fucking time. 

He’s so smug about it, too, when he tells you, “I know.”

The water keeps falling around you, drowning out the noise of the city and pearling off his necklace. He should have taken it off. If he wanted to shower with you, he should have taken it off because the need for him that makes your cunt pulse in desperation feeds off of the mere thought of taking the cold metal into your mouth while he pounds into you like a madman. 

He doesn’t look agitated, not at all, but there is a dark shadow falling over Matt’s bearded face. It’s a calculated shadow rooted in a need for control, and who are you to deny him the only thing he can control?  

“Hey,” he grabs your chin, “Tell me. What were you doing in there, hm?” 

You bite your lip. “Just… showering.”

“Just showering?” He brushes his nose against yours. “You know I can hear your heartbeat…”

You nod. Your lips brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. You can taste the remnants of his last coffee, the familiar warmth of his mouth on yours, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction. You crave him so much that fireworks have started erupting on your skin wherever his fingers dare to travel; it isn’t fair. He isn’t fair. 

Matt studied the science of driving you crazy, and now you are bordering on the edge of madness. Alone. 

“Mhm. So, I know you’re lying…” He moves to your cheek, his breath hot when he speaks, “And I know when you’re touching yourself. ‘Cause I can smell how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.” 

There he is. The relentless, feral animal you fantasized about before. The man driven by primal need and the sheer power of his senses rather than rational thought, and yet he knows exactly what he is doing. He’s a musician playing you like a delicate violin, pushing her to the breaking point but never fully destroying.

“Like I said,” you breathe, “I missed you.”

He presses his lips to your cheek, almost like a reward. “I know,” he says. “Probably been thinking about me, too, with your hand on your pussy…” 

You swallow a needy moan that would have been too embarrassing. It’s been a long few weeks. Neither of you will be able to resist for long, you know that, so you decide you have to be bold tonight. “And what’re you gonna do about it?” you ask.

Though stunned for a moment, the smirk on Matt’s face isn’t far out of reach. “That’s my girl.”

Your back hits the now warm tiles of the shower wall before you can string together another remark, and then, finally—fucking finally—his lips are on yours. Kissing you. Devouring you. Breathing air into your aching lungs. He tastes like paradise, the Garden of Eden, and the six circles of hell all at once. It’s all the same to you, anyway. 

As long as you’re with him, you don’t care where you end up. No amount of torture could take away the love you feel for him, and you know that with Matt, even weathering the stormy seas of hell would be worthwhile. It’s sick and twisted how far you would go for this man, but you can’t find a single bone in your body that cares.  

His tongue forces its way into your mouth, tasting you, and inhaling you like his sole source of life support. You don’t bother fighting for dominance; you’re all his. Your body is telling him to command you. Your mind is screaming for him to touch you in any way he pleases, so help him God, and the chain around his neck keeps sinfully dangling against his toned chest. You want to bite it. You’re going to bite it. But not yet. 

When it is time for you to swim to the surface for air, he pulls away. His lips move from yours to the corner of your mouth. He kisses there, taking his time to explore what he has explored many times before. But Matt Murdock is an addict, and you are his drug of choice, so why would he ever stop? 

He kisses your cheek, your eyes, and the bridge of your nose. That’s how he sees you. Either with his fingers or his mouth or both. Touching you. Listening to you. He wants to see you in his own way. In a way that is far more intimate than you admiring his objective beauty could ever be.

“So beautiful,” he whispers between kisses. When he says it, you know it has to be true, even when you don’t see yourself in the same light as him.

His beard is rough where he kisses you. He has grown it out quite a bit, not having the time to bother shaving. The specks of gray that have started appearing as he got older should be illegal, you think, staring at him through hazy eyes. It should be illegal to look this good.

You caress his face, palm covering the entirety of his cheek. So beautiful, you want to say, but you don’t have the words.

The confession of love tumbles against your skin, softly, breathlessly, and he dips his head into the crook of your neck. He seeks your pulse point to press his lips against the beat of your heart. Your head falls back against the tiles. He’s a fucking menace, but he’s gentle about it. So, so gentle.

The hands-on your hips pull you closer, as close as you can get. Your nipples brush his chest, and you can feel him growing hard against you. He’s hot, red, and flushed, and with his lips against your neck, sucking and biting and licking some more, the shower water isn’t the only thing running down your thighs. You’ve been wet just thinking about him; Matt is here now, and he has no intention of stopping until you’re screaming his name.

Your skin is raw from the way he’s moving his face against you, suctioning his lips right where he can feel your pulse reaching for him. Reacting to him.

“Matthew,” you moan, breathless. “Please.” 

He hums, fingers digging into your flesh to keep his composure. The sound of his name from your lips in such ecstasy makes his cock swell to the point all he wants is to sink into you and fuck you against the wet shower wall until you can’t walk anymore. He wants to wrap his hand around your throat, just holding you there as you take it like the good girl you are. God, he wants to do so many things to you. 

He wants to push all of your buttons and reward you for it. He wants to feel your nails running down his back until he’s bleeding. He wants to eat your pussy until you forget your name, and when he’s done with that, he wants to do even more because that is the kind of animal you turn him into. That is what you do to him. You consume him with your mere existence and your love you keep pouring into him like a glass about to overflow, a glass so full yet so fucking empty at the same time, and he has been neglecting you for far too long to hold back now—yes, the water bill be damned!

“I love it when you beg,” he growls, feeling his voice vibrate through your skin. Like he’s in your veins.

You whimper. Oh, that sound. That sweet, sweet sound. It seems to do him in. Matt sinks to his knees like he would in front of God in church—like Mary knelt in front of Jesus after he got crucified. But there are no stained windows, no crosses, and no confessional booth in sight; you’re his place of worship, and your body is the altar. You are the only constant in his world on fire. You always want him to set you on fire, too. 

Once on his knees in front of you, his cock straining high and mighty against his stomach, he grabs your thigh and places it over his shoulder. No rush. You can barely catch your breath. 

Burning along the inside of your thigh, Matt kisses his way toward where you need him most. Your core yearns for him. Your hand slips from his face, searching the tiles behind you for something to hold onto. 

He’s quick to bring your hands back to his hair. “Don’t let go,” he says. 

It’s almost embarrassing that the only sound you can make is a grunt, and when your brain finally catches up, it’s too late. He’s impatient. Desperate. And he places his lips in a gentle kiss against your clit. The sudden contact makes you jolt, but that is not nearly all of it. 

He tests the waters. Once, twice, even a third time, gently kissing along your slick folds. You instinctively tug at his hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Matt inhales your scent, tasting your essence on his tongue; he would bathe in it if he could. 

You cry out when he dives in. He parts your folds with his tongue, sucking and licking until his face is covered. The obscene noise of lips smacking against wet skin goes straight to your head. He can hear the wetness gushing out of you, every twitch of your muscles and hitch of your breath, and he sucks a little harder on your sensitive clit. You’re scared you might fall. 

“Fuck!” Your moans are as obscene as the sound of him eating you out. You grind against him, at first involuntarily, but then he moans against you, and you can’t help it; the vibrations he sends through you continue to pool in your cunt, tightening the coil that is waiting to snap. 

Matt prods your entrance with his tongue, the tip of his nose digging just right into that sensitive bundle of nerves he lost when your hips first jerked. He’s completely out of it, hooded eyes rolled back into his skull while you are almost splitting yours open on the dark tiles. The cross necklace is sticky with his saliva as he drinks from you like you are the spring fueling his ocean. He’s thrusting into his hand, pre-cum leaking from his cock, but his mouth never wavers. He has a job to do. 

Your walls clench around what little of his tongue is inside of you. There is nothing more arousing than the sight of him touching himself because the taste of you is bringing him to the brink of an inevitable orgasm. Because he wants to come with you. Because he’s desperate and he can only imagine being inside of you as he licks away at you. It’s a kind of dedication that makes you feral. No one has ever loved you quite like he has, and no one will ever eat your pussy as only he can. 

“Matt,” you choke out. “Fuck, I’m gonna—’m gonna come. Don’t stop. Don’t…”

As if he could. He flicks his tongue from left to right, painting shapes you have never felt before over every last of your nerve endings. You’re quivering. You’re shaking. You are turning the bathroom into a concert hall for the symphony of your pleasure. 

He doesn’t stop to tell you to come, that would be futile. You couldn’t possibly stop the wave headed for your shore. You can’t warn him. You can’t do anything other than let it happen. The coil snaps and your orgasm crashes into you at full force, shattering you into a million pieces. You grind against him until you’re sure he is branded into your skin forever. 

Matt holds you through it, working his tongue against you to prolong the electricity running through your veins. He gets lost in the echo of his name, stroking his cock harder and faster, and within seconds of you, he’s coming, too. He spurts into his hand and on your thigh, moaning deliciously into your pussy. For a moment, he’s stiff, though as you are starting to come back to him, he’s starting to come back to you. 

The aftermath of your orgasm is quiet. His lips slip from your swollen folds eventually, and he pulls away to rest his cheek against your inner thigh, the one resting over his shoulder. He’s still catching his breath, cock softening in his hands, but when you look down at him, he’s a wreck. For you. 

Slowly, he rises back to his feet. You look at him, unsteady now on both of your feet. He wraps his arms around you. “You okay?” he asks softly. 

You lean into his hand when he places it on your cheek. “Yeah,” you nod. “I’m…perfect.”

“You were so good for me. So good.” 

The distance between you dissipates, foreheads falling together in absolute exhaustion. He smells and tastes of you. You kiss him softer than you ever have. “I love you,” you whisper, and he smiles because he knows.

You don’t count the minutes you stay like that, kissing. It might have been an hour, not nearly enough. Matt reaches for the water when it starts getting cold, and he lifts you to wrap your legs around his waist. 

You frown. “Aren’t you going out tonight?” 

He shakes his head. “No, sweetheart,” he says, “I’m not done with you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Gotta make sure you know how much I missed you.”

The giddy smile on your face when you kiss him again is involuntary, but not unnecessary. He giggles, too, before you finally shut him up.

Hell’s Kitchen can live without him for one night, that much is for sure. And when he finally thrusts into you and you bite down on the golden metal of that godforsaken crucifix to stifle your scream as he fucks you to hell and back in a way that is gentle yet possessive, you know this is the only place Matt needs to be tonight—for both of you.

[rie-092]

DEAREST ADVISOR.

❥. yandere! emperor x advisor! reader

• liam luwelton was one of the most famous emperor on the history of lobelia empire. while he was praised for being a good and powerful ruler. he was also famous for being a womanizer who hook up with so many girls yet, he didn't even chosen any of them to be his empress.

• don't blame him, he likes having fun. but he hates when he got attached or tied to something that will hinder him. he was only doing this for his own entertainment after all. no one stayed on his side for so long anyways, well maybe except to the captain of his imperial knights, warren, his childhood friend.

• that was the main reason why he became surprised when warren's younger sister, you, became his advisor. the most amusing part was warren is the one who recommended you. hmm, it seemed like your brother doesn't even care about the fact that liam's mother, the previous empress, fired all the female servants after knowing her son's tendencies to, uhm... seduce them.

• that was the main reason why he was excited to finally meet you. the famous sister of his friend. he wanted to know how long will it take for you to became smitten and obsessed with him? ahh, just thinking about it makes liam so excited.

• but you were fucking different that he expected. who in the hell is in the right mind to greet the emperor for the first time while wearing a damn pyjamas? what the fuck? as far as he knew, you were the damn daughter of a duke. so, what in the hell was wrong with your fashion sense?

• well, keeping your fuvked up fashion aside. you were indeed good at your job. even though you can be pretty hard headed sometimes, you were able to carry yourself with so much confidence and boy, oh boy. he likes it so much.

• maybe, that time when he basically threaten you to wear an appropriate dress to attend a certain banquet with him. was the time when he realized that he fucked up. yeah, his motto that 'no string attached' crumbled down as he saw your annoyed face when the maids' dressed you up with the most elegant dress that he gifted for you. and the fact that you got drunk that night and mumbled some cute nonsense didn't helped either. fuck. the main reason why he got you drunk anyways is to fuck you. but damn, he can't bring himself to do it since you looked so cute while clinging to him for support!

• as a yandere, liam was overbearing and posessive. gosh, this guy is unhinged and practically crazy. he's an emperor for the petesake! he killed his siblings to ascend to the throne. so don't expect that he's a nice guy!

• those times that he escaped the palace just to go outside and hook up with girls? yup, he stopped doing that for you. expect that while working, his eyes were focused on your every move. you talk to other guy other than him and warren? expect that he will be fired the next day. and why is that? well, it's your fault.

• he was now fine with you working in your pyjamas, you're so cute wearing that after all! but, in exchange he will increase your workload 10x because he knew that you always goes home after finishing your work, he just wants to spend the whole day with you!

• don't even think of quiting, darling. because liam will not let you to do so. unfortunately, he was able to wrap his pretty fingers around you with you being unaware of it. ahh, he just loves how clueless you are when liam fired all the male servants on his palace and replaced it with the female ones to make sure they you won't be able to flirt with them while working.

• all in all, liam is head over heels for you. he wants you for himself to the point that he spread the rumour about you being the next empress of the prestigious lobelia empire. just to shackle you by his side.

• but of course, your usual playful older brother doesn't like it at all. so be ready, because just like a prince on the fantasy stories that the two of you read before. he will do anything to save you, his precious little sister even if it means he needs to burn down the whole empire and kill liam for you. i mean, when you were a kid, you mentioned that you wanted to be a ruler. so just sit back and let your big brother, warren do the work <3.

“ our love comes first, everything is secondary.”

[mxymii]

RECOMMENDATION LETTER

pairing | teacher!lee byunghun x femstudent!reader

warnings | 18+, age gap (40 n 19), fingering (f receiving), masturbation, somewhat innocent reader, degrading/praising kink, slight oral (f receiving), lowercase int.

summary | when you’re determined to do anything for your teacher’s recommendation letter..

a/n | hii everyone, this is my first time writing on this platform as well as my first time writing smut so please bear with me :)) i hope you all enjoy !! (also i have the warnings up for you all to read, i am not your parent and will not be telling you what you should or should not read :))

having to stress over recommendations letters in your last year of high school was not in your agenda, it was taking up all of your time trying to receive as many letters as possible. you were a good student; having about several a’s and b’s, being involved in school activities which has earned you credits for your college classes was something you did throughout your four years of school.

one class in particular you were the best at, always showing up on time, dressed appropriately although you would roll up your skirt a few times to attract the attention of someone, always having excellent attendance but who were you to blame.

buffy built, rough hands which were always enhanced by his prominent veins, strict and authoritative voice which makes your legs shake from the roughness of it. he was perfect, just the way you liked but he was your teacher.

your favorite teacher

in which you have yet to receive a recommendation letter from. did he not like you? was he not giving any students recommendations letters?

you were a shy student, barely interacted with anyone unless they had asked for help on one of his homework’s but that’s about it. so you had no other choice but to ask for it yourself.

knocking softly on the classroom door you stood, your hands sweaty as your nervousness buildup. you didn’t want to be desperate for the letters but it would be such a beneficial thing for you to have and plus you also got to see him in all his glory.

the door opens quickly snapping you out of your thoughts, and there he stood tall, his built towering over you. his eyes are quick to scan your figure, lasting a bit too long on your wide thighs. he coughs a bit and meets your gaze, his face holds no emotion whatsoever.

“what can i do for you, miss y/n?”

the tone of his voice stands out, he’s just a nonchalant man with a strict way of communicating. sure some people would say he is the hottest teacher in the building but they seem to be too all intimidated by the aura he carries himself with.

“sorry to interrupt mr. byunghun… i just have something to ask of you?”

you’re glad your voice does not embarrass you at this point, you feel proud of being able to speak without stuttering with each word. he doesn’t speak but simply moves away to give you space to enter the room.

he pulls up a chair next to his desk, unbuttoning his blazer and sitting nicely on his desk as he awaits for you to sit.

“ask away whenever you’re ready.” he says softly

you cross your legs together, regretting putting on one of your shorter skirts today as you now feel embarrassed about it. you wanted him to notice the little details you put in for him.

“i wanted to know…” you stutter a bit, your nerves taking the best of you as your face heats up.

“if you’re able to give me a recommendation letter?”

he hums softly, as he fumbles with various files. “what makes you think you deserve one from me?” he says, tone stricter than usual.

visibly stunned and unable to say anything to his comment he continues to talk. “i’m sure you have received enough letters, y/n.”

“but i would like yours, s-sir..” you say, not caring about how desperate you’re sounding or the fact you stuttered.

“i’d do anything, please sir..”

that quickly makes him meet your gaze, his eyes dark filling up with desire and lust. he knows it’s wrong to crave to touch his student, but he loved the innocence to your face, the way your eyes sparkled when he simply gave you a tad bit of attention. having heard this know, he was willing to make it happen.

“you think you deserve it, y/n?” he states coldly, his dark lust filled eyes meeting yours. his rough hands now abandoning the amount of files scattered around his desk.

he sets a hand on your thigh, you shivering at his warm touch. this is the first time he has touched you in a way, you’re more in common with teacher having pat your back and whatnot or just innocent touches but he was not like them. whenever he would hand over paper he was quick to have some student do it, he was never the type of teacher to come close to you to explain the problems you were having. now having him touch your thigh was a huge deal not only did he initiate it, but it was you who he touched.

your thighs are quick to squeeze each other, wetness already seeping through your panties to create a wet patch. this shouldn’t have turned you on but the way his rough hands felt on your thigh and the way he is talking to you does not help.

he seems to notice your slight discomfort but it isn’t because of his hands, this somewhat proves to him that you like what his doing. testing the waters even move, he slowly moves his hand up. “you think you can come to my classroom and ask for the letter?”

your hands now clamped tightly on the chair, you couldn’t move, it was as if he had hypnotized you. you have never felt as horny as now, your pussy clenching on nothing to just feel some friction.

“what’s wrong darling? can’t talk?” he says jokingly, his hand now under your skirt. your hands quickly clamp his wrist, your fingers slightly shaking.

feeling your hand on his wrist he is quick to stop his actions, he looks at your face to find any sign of regret or hesitation but is only met with your lust filled eyes and bright swollen lips that you been bitting down on. he doesn’t push any further and removes his hand from underneath your skirt. he wants you to beg for him if you were willing to continue but having you stopped him was enough for him to not continue, he didn’t want to take advantage of you. he was better of a man to have you ask for it, to show him you do want what he is doing to you.

goosebumps start to appear on your thigh at the lost of contact and warmth his hand gave. you wanted more, needed more of him. you had waited so long to attract his attention and now having just a taste of what he had given you, you were now addicted.

“please..” you beg softly, your panties completely soaked from your wet pussy, that seems to keep clenching on nothing.

“what was that baby?” he asks softly, his hands moving a few strands of hair that fell on your face. “i need more…”

he hums softly, “thought you would of never asked..” he places his hand back where it was, his finger gliding down your pussy through the wet fabric of your panties. “you’re so fucking wet, baby..” he grunts softly, his fingers sticky as he continues his teasing.

soft gasp and whines escape past your lips, the feeling of his finger running up and down softly on your pussy is making it a lot harder for you. “please.. sir..i need more..” you beg, your hands resting on his chest.

“you take what i give you.” he states sternly, his fingers moving the fabric to the side, meeting your wet and hot cunt. he groans at the feeling, his simple action had made you a complete mess and with no holding back anymore he inserts his index and middle fingers into you.

moans erupt from you at the feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. “is this what you wanted baby?” he whispers softly against your ear.

“so fucking wet..” he groans, his fingers picking up the pace and curving each way to feel your sweet spot.

at this point you couldn’t hold back your moans anymore, slight whines and whimpers escape from your lips. your legs are now wide open for him, both resting on his thigh as your hands clench onto his shirt. “sir..” you moan, your pussy clenching on his fingers. he can feel you coming close to your high and is quick to lessen the speed of his fingers.

“look at you.. all messed up for my recommendation letter?” he teases you with his words, his fingers deeply buried into you. your eyes rolled back with your mouth agape, this scene making him weaker. he loved the way you felt, looked, sounded all because of him.

“are you going to cum baby?” he asks you against your ear, unable to make out a sentence you nod your head. he didn’t care if you were loud, he wanted you to be. he loved the way he was making you sound, the sweet whimpers you would let out were music to his ears.

“fuck..please sir don’t stop..” you moan, your high coming quicker than ever, you felt so high up on the stars, the way he was making you feel was unimaginable good.

“cum for me baby..” he says as his finger moves to an even faster pace, hitting you in all the right places. it didn’t take long for you to cum undone on his fingers, your legs shaking furiously as you tried coming off your high.

“fuck baby…” he groans softly, as he slides down from his chair, licking his fingers and your cunt clean. soft whimpers and whine are sounded aloud in the room, your hand gripping his hair as he finishes licking your cum up.

he moves up to the desk and grabs an envelope, handing it to you with a smile.

“what is this?” you asked him as you can’t seem to move from the intense high he had given you, eyeing the envelope in his hands.

“what you had asked for.” he stated as he smirks softly

“i just wanted you to ask for it, because it was already done beforehand.”

a/n: tysmmm for reading my first post, ik it might not be as good as some might expect but i am willing to learn along my journey! thanks again and ily guys <3

mxymii out!

[ultimate-chickennougat]

| Shut up for me, love, |

Toji Fushiguro x Wife!Reader

Toji finds out you're pregnant! (with Megumi)

Word Count: 1.5k

CW: SFW, domestic fluff, pregnancy, Toji has a job, slightly suggestive dialogue

A/n: I have an idea for a Part 2 (this was so fun)... also opening to take requests if you have any.

It was like floating on cloud nine, where everything was beautiful and happy. You couldn’t help but curl up into a ball on your bed, digging your fists into the covers while clutching the test. Why? Because it came up with two lines. 

You had always wanted kids, that was something your husband, Toji, knew very well. However, there was still something daunting, that translated into a sinking feeling in your gut. Something that you had wanted for so long, something bigger than yourself, was going to happen, and the two of you would face it together. 

There were so many things to look forward to while pregnant. Wearing cute dresses that emphasized your bump just right, a sign to yourself and the world of your lovely marriage and relationship with your husband. Family photos, pregnancy milestones, and finally, the birth that would happen in a bit under nine months. You were so happy to start your family with Toji, and the little bundle of joy that was growing inside of you.

That feeling of euphoria didn’t leave after laying there for five minutes. In fact, it probably never would. It was another version of the feeling you got when you first met Toji, and the one from when you married him, and you still couldn’t believe that it had happened. But, Toji would be home soon. 

Knowing your husband, still as frustrated with your finances as ever, the one thing you could decide was that balloons and cake would not be appreciated on this occasion. Though he knew of your desires, he never explicitly said he wanted a baby either. That was what scared you the most. 

Toji always humered you, when you visited little clothing boutiques and stores, and something in the maternity section caught your eye. Or, when you couldn’t help but offer to take care of your friend’s baby whenever you got the chance, and had the biggest smile he had ever seen on your face, when you held her. 

What you didn’t see, however, was that while you perused the racks of baby clothing, his eyes drifted over to the green dinosaur onesie, with dark green spikes covering the head and going over the back and the tail. He chuckled under his breath, starting to get ideas himself seeing how invested you were. 

When you mentioned getting pregnant, Toji said he wasn’t opposed, though the look on his face showed more that he was uninterested. While you trusted your husband, he was wonderful to you, that sinking feeling didn’t go away either. Part of the reason you were so enthusiastic, after all, was because you’d be raising your child with Toji, and that idea was the embodiment of perfection in your mind. Without him in all the way, would it really be the same?

Toji wasn’t a big fan of fuss anyway, his proposal and your wedding had been small and pretty simple, and you were fine with that. In all honesty it was nice, to not have to worry about every little thing being perfect anyway. For news like this, thinking about decorations would only be a distraction from figuring out what to say. 

“Toji, honey, I’m pregnant,” you repeated to yourself in the mirror, holding the test to give it to him, trying to present it like a gift of some sort. “I have some news for you, Toji,” another option, “It’s great news, I’m really excited,” you tried to make the perfect smile, to show him just how happy you were. But you just threw yourself back on the bed, covering the flush on your cheeks with your hand. 

Everything sounded fake when you tried it. Knowing Toji, if you said any of those things, he might think there was something wrong instead of the truth. And of course, you couldn’t knock that stupid grin off your face for more than a few seconds, butterflies fluttering around your stomach so much that you had to ground yourself. 

Your face heated up at the mere thought of your husband walking through the door, though he would be tired and bothered as per usual. How would he react? Would he be as happy as you are, or… and the sinking feeling was growing again. You lifted your knees, planting your feet flat on the bed so the hem of your dress laid right above your ankles, as you sat in thought, preparing yourself for the inevitable. 

In a way you had given up, on facing Toji head on. Instead you decided to lie in wait, and figure something out on a whim if it didn’t come to you before he got home. You tucked the test under the blanket next to your legs, trying to relax as best as you could. 

The click of the front door was a familiar sound, something that usually excited you. However on this particular day, it was a little bit too exciting, so much so that you couldn’t urge yourself to get up and move your hands from their comfortable spot covering your face. 

Toji made his way through the kitchen and the living room, missing the usual sound of you, his wife, running around doing whatever it was that you were doing when he came home every day. The occasional joking “Honey, I’m home,” something he had grown to secretly enjoy, couldn’t be said despite his relatively good mood - for his ‘honey’ wasn’t there. 

Heading into your shared bedroom, where he typically pulled off his stuffy work clothes and changed into something more comfortable, was where he found you, curled up and about as out-of-it as ever. 

Toji laid down behind you on the bed, leaning over onto his side to see you. He pulled one of your hands off your face, smirking as you opened your eyes and met his gaze. “Hey, stupid,” he laughed as you pulled your hand back, smacking his away. “Why you coverin’ that pretty face, huh?” he asked, settling down with his hand resting under his neck. “What happened to ‘wife’, or something,” you tried to pout. “I called you pretty,” he reasoned, “and I can see that stupid smile on your face, somethin’ happen to ya?” 

Toji reached his hand over, with more force this time, pulling both your hands off your face. The flushed red of your cheeks and cute little protests made him smile. “You gonna tell me what’s got you so flustered, wife?” he kept your hands lightly pinned beneath his. “Couldn’t help yourself from thinkin’ about me while I was at work… really is stupid to be embarrassed,” you shook your head as best as you could. 

“Toji…” you murmured out, trying not to look him in the eyes. You pulled your right hand away from him, reaching into the covers to where you shoved the test. “I’m just… really happy, okay?” you choked out meekly, biting your lip you threw the test back at him. 

Catching it in his hands, he stared at the two lines. “You don’t say, huh?” he breathed heavily, as you eyed his expression with worry. “I just found out…” you blushed as he looked back at you, listening intently. “And… I know we didn’t talk that much about it,” you whispered, feeling his hand tighten it’s grip around yours. “But I really want to be a mother, Toji,” you sighed, still anticipating his reply. 

“Didn’t realize we weren’t on the same page about that,” he turned away, with a smile on his face. “I don’t want to make you unhappy -” he cut you off with a kiss, leaning down as your heart raced even faster. “How ‘bout you shut up for me, love,” your face contorted into a look of surprise. “Am I that bad of a husband? I thought you knew I was on board,” he chuckled. “But you said you didn’t really care,” you whined, as he moved his hand to hold yours more comfortably. “Yeah, that was my way of sayin’ it,” you rolled your eyes at him. “Besides, who do you think did this to ya, I’m not that much of an idiot,” he held up the test again, the surrealness of it all was sinking in.

“So, do you know the gender yet?” he asked, as you squinted. “Toji, I just found out a few minutes ago,” you replied. “Yeah, but I figured you had some kind of mother’s intuition on that stuff,” he yawned, the tiredness from work starting to hit him. “Well, what do you think?” 

“A girl,” he stated quickly, as you thought about it. “Your final guess?” you asked, to which he agreed. “Well knowing your losing streak, it must be a boy then,” you laughed as he frowned, “I should put that on paper… How’s that for mother’s intuition?” You looked back at Toji, who was fully laid down with his eyes closed. “Pregnant women should get a lot of sleep, I’m just setting an example,” he yawned again, pulling your waist to turn you next to him. You snuggled in closer, the sinking feeling was gone though the butterflies were only getting worse by the minute. “Fine, but only for a little while. I have to make dinner,” Toji hummed in response. “G’night, future mama.”

(Part 2)

[leona-hawthorne]

lorenzo berkshire: how a relationship would be with my favorite male manipulator <3

(@mattnott this came out of the chat we had the other day LMAO ily zoya)

on the surface, lorenzo berkshire is just that guy. he’s effortlessly charming, polite, intelligent, and the kind of person who could convince anyone he’s the perfect human being. he’s the type who walks into a room and immediately draws everyone in—not by being loud or flashy, but by knowing exactly how to make himself seem approachable, kind, and maybe even a little vulnerable. but all of it is just a mask.

enzo is a master manipulator. he knows exactly how to get what he wants, and he does it by making people think they’re in control. he doesn’t argue or beg; instead, he plants ideas like seeds in your mind. “if that’s what you think is best,” he’ll say with a soft smile, knowing full fucking well you’ll second-guess yourself. he makes you feel like every decision was yours, even though he’s been guiding you the whole time. and the worst part? you don’t even realize it until it’s too late.

emotional manipulation and guilt-tripping

enzo doesn’t argue outright, but he’s an expert at making you feel like everything is your fault. when you expresses your feelings or doubts about your relationship, he deflects and twists the narrative.

“you’re overthinking again, love. you always do this—it’s like you’re looking for reasons to fight.”

“after everything i’ve done for you, this is how you see me? it just doesn’t seem fair, babe.”

the constant emotional exhaustion of always questioning yourself and feeling like the villain slowly pushes you to the edge.

subtle isolation

enzo doesn’t tell you to stop seeing your friends or family straight up—that would be too obvious. instead, he plants seeds of doubt about them, turning you against the people who care about you.

“it’s just… don’t you think your friends don’t really understand you? they don’t see the real you like i do. they’re only here for a good time. they wouldn’t stick with you when things are hard, like i do.”

“your sister’s always been jealous of you. it’s kind of obvious when you think about it. in fact… i think i she was flirting with me at the lake trip last weekend…”

over time, you feel more and more alone, with enzo as the only person left in your corner—and even that’s suffocating.

his temper leaks through

enzo prides himself on being calm and composed, but even he can’t keep the mask on forever. when you push back—when you really challenge him—his anger surfaces.

“you think you’re better than me now? after all i’ve done just to make you happy? you should be grateful i’m still putting up with you. no one else would.”

“you don’t get to treat me like this. i deserve better than your constant doubts.”

while he doesn't resort to outright aggression, the quiet, cutting anger and emotional coldness are enough to make you feel small and utterly helpless against him.

hypercritical tendencies

at first, enzo is the type to shower you with compliments. but once he has you, the nitpicking starts. he frames his criticisms as “helping” you or “protecting” you, but they’re really about control. he wants to cut you down until his words are the only form of validation you trust; the only ones that matter.

“that dress is nice, but it’s not really your color, is it?”

“i just think you’d be happier if you didn’t spend so much time on things that don’t matter.”

it’s not that he truly thinks badly of you; it’s just his way of slowly implementing his control. the constant criticism erodes your self-esteem, making you wonder if you’re ever enough for him.

dismisses your autonomy

enzo frames his controlling nature as “taking care of you” or “looking out for you,” but it’s really about stripping away your agency.

he might make decisions for you without asking, like ordering for you at a restaurant or canceling your plans because he thinks you “needs rest.” you simply don’t get a say.

“i only did it because i know what’s best for you. you’d do the same for me if you cared as much as i do.”

over time, you realize you don’t have control over your own life anymore—and that terrifies you.

you start to feel like you’re losing your identity. the things you love—your hobbies, your friends, even your sense of self—have all been swallowed up by enzo’s world.

his fear of losing control turns ugly

when you start pulling away, enzo’s fear of losing you makes him tighten his grip. he might start tracking your whereabouts, showing up uninvited, or trying to manipulate you into staying.

“you’re not yourself lately, baby. i think you need me more than ever right now.”

“are you seriously leaving me after everything we’ve been through? i thought you were better than this. i thought you loved me—was it all a joke to you?”

his desperation exposes just how deeply insane, how utterly selfish he really is—and how dangerous it is to stay—but you still can’t help loving him.

the breaking point: seeing the mask slip

your breaking point comes when you finally see enzo for what he truly is. maybe it’s a moment of anger where his charm gives way to cold cruelty. maybe it’s realizing how isolated you’ve become or maybe it’s catching him in a lie.

“you know what? you’ll never find someone like me again. you’ll never find someone who loves you the way i do—or touches you the way i do.”

“go ahead and leave. but don’t come crawling back when you realize no one else will put up with you.”

and suddenly, the illusion you’ve clung to—the one where enzo is perfect, where his love is worth the pain—is shattered.

enzo doesn’t beg you to stay. no, he’s far more subtle. he sets the stage so that if you even think about leaving, the world around you becomes a constant reminder of him. your friends adore him. “enzo’s perfect for you,” they say, oblivious to his carefully crafted facade, oblivious to the fact that he doesn’t even want them within 50 feet of you. your family loves him because he’s gone out of his way to charm them. “he’s such a gentleman,” your mom gushes after he brings her flowers for no reason at all.

and when you confront him? he doesn’t argue. he doesn’t yell. instead, he sighs, looking at you with those soft, sad eyes. “i just wish you’d trust me,” he says, and suddenly you’re the one apologizing.

and enzo’s love isn’t love—it’s obsession. he doesn’t just want to be with you; he wants to consume you. he integrates himself so deeply into your life that it feels impossible to untangle yourself from him.

he’ll listen to all your favorite songs and tell you how much he loves them too. “this one reminds me of you,” he’ll say, and suddenly, every melody feels like it belongs to him.

he’ll watch all your favorite shows, quote them back to you, and make inside jokes so that even your comfort series becomes a part of his web.

he’ll charm your friends and family until they’re all on his side. “you’re lucky to have him,” they’ll say when you confide in them. and if you ever leave? they’ll tell you you’re making one of the biggest mistakes of your life.

“i just don’t understand,” he’ll say if you call him out. “everything i’ve ever done was for you. because i love you.”

and here’s the thing about enzo: even when he’s truly, deeply in love, he’s still toxic. love doesn’t magically make him a better person—it just changes the way he manipulates you. instead of using his charm to pull you in, he’ll use his insecurities to keep you there. “i don’t know what i’d do without you,” he whispers, and it sounds more like a warning than a confession. almost like he’s saying he’d become worthless without you.

but love does soften him in some ways. his need for control isn’t about power anymore; it’s about fear. he’s terrified of losing you, so he holds on tighter. he’s still manipulative, still controlling, but now it’s because he genuinely believes he can’t live without you.

enzo’s love is messy and overwhelming. it’s the kind of love that makes you feel like you’re drowning, but at the same time, you can’t imagine living without it. and that’s the tragedy of lorenzo berkshire: no matter what he does, you can’t help but love him anyway. even when you see his true colors, you’re already too far gone.

© leona-hawthorne 2025. please do not copy, translate or repost any of my writing.

navigation. masterlist. lorenzo berkshire masterlist.

[gardenialver]

Of Eagles and Hummingbirds

synopsis - just some headcanons while dating Ushijima but being like 35 cm shorter

pairings - Wakatoshi Ushijima

content - f!reader, reader does have a few outlined features mainly height, fluff

The first time Ushijima saw you in high school he thought you were a first year but then he saw you at a university junction while in his second year of post secondary and went through a moment of confusion

The two of you got closer through Ushijima's simple mindedness. since you were more academically inclined, or at least more academically inclined than him since you actually passed all your classes at Shiratorizawa

Before he realized it Ushijima suddenly became someone you were heavily dependent on, despite his nonchalant behaviour he always checked in on you when you would go out drinking, letting your head rest against him until you regained composure

His habit of lowering his entire body to hear people better came from being around you and moments where you were more soft spoken

After you started dating Ushijima began to take into consideration how much smaller you were than him, small things (pun) how your hands were tiny, he was used to towering over people in general as someone over 190 cm, but with you, you were shorter than the average person especially since he was used to being around volleyball players

You were so small he just wanted to protect you, he wanted to keep you in his grasp at all times, when you'd go to watch his games he was scared when you'd come down to meet him that his teammates would suddenly start tripping over you

Your biggest concern was that sometimes when you'd go out with him and people saw the two of you, they'd gush over the fact that Wakatoshi was taking care of his baby cousin or baby sister, it was true in your eyes your boyfriend would be much more suited with someone who was tall, the contrast between you two raised too many eyebrows, of course your concerns would always be deflected in the moment when he'd suddenly grip your hand as if it was his lifeline, thrust you in front of him and boldly claim on the street "This is my lady"

Of course you'd feel embarrassed and speechless but still a part of you enjoyed it, that he'd so shamelessly declare to everyone that you were the one he loved

On a cuter note when the two of you hugged it brought you comfort that you could hear his heartbeat so gently and how he tried to immerse himself into you, holding you close to him, putting his face into your hair, placing light soft kisses on your head

Sometimes when the two of you hugged he'd start to carry you, just up to his eye level but still with that your legs would hang in the air, it was childish but you enjoyed it, he'd spin you around while you giggled

Other times you'd jump onto his back and he'd sort of play with you there, whenever he carried you it looked like a koala stuck to a eucalyptus tree but the two of you enjoyed it so what else was there to care about

When you would steal his clothes it would obviously be way too big, the sleeves would hang awkwardly around your arms and you'd look like you were wearing a dress or that you didn't have any pants on but you could care less, his clothes were comfy and they smelled like him, it was all the comfort you needed when he'd be on work trips

He also really adored the way you looked in his clothes and sometimes would leave them around so you'd purposely put them on

Sometimes when getting stuff from higher shelves that you'd struggle with, Wakatoshi would full on hold you like a cat and carry you up to what you needed to get which was sweet at home but in public it did make you feel a bit more shy

One more thing, Wakatoshi thought your tiny hands were one of the most adorable things in the world, they were soft and small in comparison to his larger rough and calloused ones, he thought they encompassed you nicely and vowed to protect them from even the smallest of things, cuts and burns from just cooking or paper, for your cute little hands he'd do anything

[voidsuites]

ARTRICK BOT RELEASE !!! (11/13/24) ⌢⠀ 🎾 .ᐟ

art donaldson ・゜゜・．coach's orders. you’re art’s newest player— an up-and-coming name in the tennis world— but you’re stubborn and prone to working yourself to the bone in the name of the game. tashi would’ve loved you if she’d gotten her hands on you first, but you’re here with him, on his private backyard court, listening to his advice about your game and ultimately, your career. and damnit, art’s not going to take that for granted (even if it means pushing the delicate boundaries between an athlete and their coach). you’ve got to learn how to relax, and art’s not opposed to bending you over the net if that’ll fix things.

art donaldson ・゜゜・．lesson planning. it’s your first year having a hands-on role in building out and finalizing the curriculum for the middle school english department, but your focus has been equally split between what books your kids are going to read and the head of the english department himself, mr. donaldson. you’d been wary to accept such a high responsibility in the first place, but he’d insisted that you help him review the materials during prep week, and you'd never say no to art… even if it means awkwardly dancing around the fact that you’re both clearly into one another— oh, and that he’s finally taken off his wedding ring.

art and patrick ・゜゜・．night of the living frat! it really should be sacrilegious that sigma chi’s hosting a costume party just a week after halloween, but none of the brothers had been able to resist yet another party before finals overtook the rest of the semester. besides— who passes up a chance to dress up and drink? the music’s loud, the drinks are a-flowin’, and you’d never be able to tell that tonight isn’t halloween. no one’s the wiser… which only makes it harder for art and patrick to keep their hands to themselves and their heads out of the gutter when you eventually materialize. hopefully they can convince you to stay the night… if they can remember how to share first.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．mr. z. everyone loves mr. zweig— or “mr. z” as the students like to call him— and as the newest teacher amongst the faculty ranks, he’s quick to make nice and befriend everyone, including you. normally, you’d normally be skeptical of a washed-up pro tennis player coming to fill in the vacant gym teacher position, but you instead find yourself spending more time with patrick and enjoying yourself. it’s only a matter of time before you realize that lines are blurring and that whatever is going on between you both is way more than a friendship between fellow teachers coworkers.

patrick zweig ・゜゜・．shopping spree. frequent trips to the high-end side of the city had never been your sort of thing thing, but now that you’re dating patrick they’ve become a weekly occurrence. you never leave empty-handed, and it’s always on his dime (at his insistence, of course, it’s all chump change to him anyway). who cares about the staring you two get when he totes you and your purchases of the day around the city?— he’s the one that gets to go about his business with you on his arm. everyone else is just lucky he just can’t help showing you off while he does.

got a request? go ahead and leave em here :) THANK YOU GUYS SO SO MUCH FOR FOR 5.2K AND 2 MIL+ CHATS! this is actually insanity i don't even know what to say or how to feel but thank you thank you 😭😭😭😭😭😭 challengers brainrot has struck again (big surprise) these are all mostly aus— the art and pat teacher bots (lesson planning + mr. z) are based off of headcanons by dearest mars (the lovely @saintzweig) and the shopping spree pat bot is based off of the moodboard by my true love @diyasgarden !!! please please please please please give my lovely moots a follow bc without them (and everyone else) i would not have any ideas and you all would just be subjected to the whistling wind that blows in my head when nothing is going on in there (which happens often!) love love LOVE you guys for real i am so grateful for all of the support and giggles that we all have <33333333333

[bluejeanstrash]

inspired by this and this (sfw)

tags: idol! seungcheol x idol! reader, reader is a certified brat, brat taming, seungcheol and reader are hooking up, use of oppa and hyung, suggestive conversation | wc: 1.4k

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

seungcheol swears he’s mistaken when he hears the first paparazzi call your name. but there it is again, and again, and by the time the crowd is screaming hysterically, he’s sure it must be you. he turns around as he’s being escorted into the venue to see you on the red carpet, waving to the cameras, posing with a poise only a professional idol has. you look jaw-droppingly good, and he curses at the fact that he only got to see you for two seconds.

things work out in his favour though. he reaches his table to see a place card with your name on it. idols seated together. not a bad marketing decision.

unlike the vibrant red carpet, the inside of the venue is dim, a velvety purple hue painting the room, and there’s a dj whose set suits seungcheol’s taste. it’s nice being here after months of hiatus, and it would be even nicer if you’d get here quicker. your group and seventeen were contemporaries, and pretty good friends, though in the public eye it seemed like you’d barely interacted. everyone wanted to keep it that way.

finally, after what feels like hours, you walk in, heads turning as you make your way to the table. he checks you out, slowly this time, blown away by just how incredible you look. your dress is sensual yet subtle, and his hands are itching to feel the fabric, and you under it. you’re a few steps away when you pause, spotting him, equally surprised to see him here. you would rarely cross paths during schedules, so this was unusual.

respectful bows are exchanged before you take a seat. a waiter comes by to drop off glasses of champagne, and you take that as an opportunity to check seungcheol out. all black everything with faded auburn hair looks very sexy on him. you make a quick decision about what you want him to do to you in this outfit.

‘i didn’t know you were attending. just you?’ he asks politely, in stark contrast to how impolitely he'd fucked you the last time you met.

‘just me. just you?’

‘and wonwoo. wonwoo!’ seungcheol waves him down as wonwoo makes his way to the table, taking a seat to your other side.

‘hyung, they need you for some solo press’ he informs and seungcheol is escorted away by his manager.

in the 10 to 15 minutes that seungcheol’s gone, you make small talk with wonwoo, touching on agency-approved topics like comebacks, dance challenges, and the like. topics that wouldn’t cause an internet meltdown when someone would inevitably zoom into your lips and try to breakdown every word being said.

what you’d actually been dying to discuss with wonwoo was his latest fling, and why he’d ghosted them, but that’s filed away for another day.

seungcheol returns with a second drink in his hand, and message for wonwoo ‘wonwoo-ya, they’re calling you now. do well’ he encourages like always.

seungcheol takes a seat beside you, close enough to dispel any negative rumours and far enough to not get pulled into dating ones.

‘have you finished press?’

‘what?’ you lean forward, the music too loud to speak at a distance. he does the same, almost placing his hand on your thigh but he catches himself in the last second, closing his palm into a loose fist and resting it on the table. seungcheol repeats his question, and you nod. yes, you’re done with press.

‘there are way too many cameras here’ he recognises a few fans who run his biggest fansites, all “discreetly” pointing huge DSLRs in his direction. he has to be careful not to accidentally touch you. not to do something that makes both your names start trending tonight.

‘are you done with schedule? what are you doing after this?’ he gives your dress a once over, trying to figure out how to undo it. there’s a complicated knot at the back which makes him eager to try.

the corners of your mouth curl into a playful smile before you take a sip of the bubbly. the sparkling gold goes down easy, and your words come out smooth,

‘you’

his eyes widen as the gulp of champagne he’s taking enters the wrong pipe, sending him into a tiny coughing fit. his eyes dart around the room to see if anyone caught that.

he takes another sip to recover, regaining any composure lost. then he leans in, plump cherry lips brushing against your ear ‘don’t say shit like that when we’re in public or i swear to god’

he sits back, adjusting the fall of his suit, and runs his fingers nervously through his thick hair which bounces right back into place.

this time you lean in completely, seungcheol refusing to meet you halfway, your earrings dangling with the motion ‘or what? what’s oppa going to do to me? punish me for being bad?’ you have a dangerous lilt in your tone that makes his dick throb.

‘stop. it.’ he mouths a warning. as if that has ever made a difference.

to seungcheol’s surprise, you had turned out to be quite a handful. you were different from your idol image. same, but different. he’d liked you instantly when you’d met outside work at his manager’s party and one thing led to another till you both had hooked up. he couldn’t believe it. you were two of his favourite things — a brat and a nasty slut combined into one gorgeous woman, and seungcheol wouldn’t have it any other way.

though, right now he could, because at this moment you were a pain in the ass and a throb in his dick, both of which he couldn’t afford. it’s not like he could refuse to engage in conversation with you. how bad would that look? so he stays still, listening to whatever lewd filth you’re whispering into his ear.

‘oppa, you know that thing you said you wanted to try with me? you wanted to put it inside my…while you turned on the vibrator in my other hole? can we try it? please?’ you leave your words vague, his imagination running wild. he’s going to kill you. it can’t get any worse, he thinks, but then the music changes.

an rnb song. no, an rnb song that’s no. 24 on your blended spotify sex playlist. in a biological reaction that would make pavlov proud, his cock starts to stiffen in his pants from the very first note. he catches your eye, looking away instantly. this is bad. this is very bad.

in an attempt to hide the tent that’s pitching in his pants, seungcheol crosses one leg over the other, taking further precautions to cover his crotch with a drape of his arms. it’s clear to you what’s happening, and if it wasn’t obvious enough he starts bouncing his knee, moving it a million times a minute. he’d read somewhere it gets rid of an unwanted erection, but it seems to be doing jack shit.

you lean back, amused, smoothing a flyaway hair, and elegantly throw your sleek locks over your shoulder to reveal a hint of your cleavage. seungcheol has spent a lot of time in there — kissing, licking, sucking…and shooting cum on that strip of skin. you know what you’re doing. he knows what you’re doing. the waiter who just walked past knows what you’re doing. seungcheol makes a mental note to tell his manager not to book you both at the same event ever again.

he tears his gaze away from your chest, focusing on the table in front of him. how many overlapping stitches can he see? he counts.

but you’re not done yet. no, you want him riled up and pissed off. you want that vein in his neck to pop. you wonder if you can run the risk of sliding your foot up his leg. probably not, and yet a second later the point of your heel slides up the inner seam of his pants, making him jump in his chair.

his jaw clenches, his neck tightens ‘that’s enough, you fucking brat’ he spits, forgetting to lean in or hide his mouth.

you grin impishly, taking a congratulatory sip of your champagne. he doesn’t know this but you’re soaking wet, your panties sticking uncomfortably to your cunt. riling him up always made you leak arousal in anticipation for the impending punishment.

unfortunately, before you can get a teaser of what’s to come, wonwoo returns, walking alongside your manager. you’ve done your part, made your appearance, and it’s time to leave, he says. you say your goodbyes, first to wonwoo, and then turn to seungcheol who lets out a small huff of air before standing up. he smiles for the cameras and bows, glaring at you as you lock eyes and whispers,

‘you’re in so much trouble’

[foulwitchknight]

As an Alpha Steve had a lot of expectations placed on him by the town and his family especially when it came to who his mate would be. So it came to everyone’s surprise when his intended turned out to be Eddie Munson. He wasnt subtle about his affections either. The gifts started almost immediately. Flowers, rings and concert tickets were left on the doorstep or given at his locker. Steve began to sit in on DnD sessions and act as Eddies personal bodyguard in school or when he’s doing his business. Every Friday Steve would dress extra nice and ask Eddie out to dinner. He was always turned down. Eddie gave no indication that he returned his feelings in fact Steve had come to accept that his feelings were unrequited until the Starcourt fire. He’d been preoccupied at first with making sure the party was safe. He’d been listing out and trying to assist in treating their injuries . The paramedics had to assure him several times that they got this and remind him that he needed to be checked out himself. Steve dismissed it until a scary looking paramedic came, forced him into a blanket and demanded he sit down. Now that he was settled he started to notice how much everything hurt particularly his face. Steve was already dreading how he’d feel in the morning when he heard it. Eddie? Steve immediately perked up forgetting his hurts again. It was easy to spot the omega arguing with a paramedic. Steve didn’t realize he’d stood up until he was on his feet and walking towards Eddie. He was still disoriented from the smoke and he suspected he had a concussion but all that mattered was Eddie. All he could think of was Eddies delectable scent and big brown eyes. The omega nose wrinkled as he approached. He stopped yelling and began to sniff the air his eyes following his nose until he spotted him. “Alpha.” He mouthed. He roughly pushed past the paramedic and began to run towards him. Steve immediately opened his arms and folded both of them into the blanket when he felt Eddie crash into him. They stood there for several moments just holding each other. Eddie frantically nuzzled Steves shoulder his jaw anywhere he could reach. He was mumbling things Steve couldn’t quite understand but it didn’t matter. Eddie was the first to pull away though not far. He carefully cupped his face eyes taking it in with worry. “You really made me lose my shit tonight Harrington.” He whispered shakily . He finally met Steve’s eyes. His were watery like he was holding back tears. “I’m sorry for worrying you.” Steve murmured. He still couldn’t tell if this was real or an hallucination. He honestly didn’t care. “Make it up to me by staying with me tonight.” Eddie growled pulling Steve back in.

[multifariousqueer]

Hi! I see your looking for felix requests?

Can you do a felix who is obsessed with a reader who doesnt care for him?

Fsfs babes!!!

Warning: Felix being a stalker, Farleigh being a catty bitch, fluff, I think that's it

“Dude, stop staring," Farleigh says in a huff.

"Don't be ridiculous, Farleigh I'm not staring" Felix defended, despite his tireless efforts, his attempts at convincing others and himself that he wasn't obsessed with your being were in vain as no one believed him, not even himself.

Felix had noticed you from across the quad at Oxford on the first day of school. Your brown eyes glowed as your chest heaved with laughter at your friend's joke. He watched in envy as your full attention was placed on your friend and how he got to bask in your presence. From that moment on, Felix was obsessed with you.

It started out simple enough, Felix joined all of your classes and he would always sit a row behind you so he could watch you and what you were doing; Felix justified this as him wanting to learn more about you(and smell your hair). Whenever you would raise your hand in class, Felix would swoon over how smart you are. He took notice of how you would turn to your guy friend and high-five him whenever you got above a B on a test or quiz and Felix's brows would furrow in jealousy and envy as your guy friend absorbed your attention. Felix began to question what drew you to him so much, was it his money? Felix had plenty of money. Was it his looks? Felix considered himself more handsome than most. So what was it? He didn't know, but he was willing to learn.

Felix started to slip you anonymous gifts and letters to your dorm every week. He bought you anything and everything, from roses to tennis bracelets worth thousands. You once walked into your dorm and saw a diamond necklace and a new iPod on your bed(after ranting to your best friend about needing a new one) with a note that read:

"A very pretty necklace for a very pretty girl ;). Love, your secret admirer"

You squealed and thought that your best friend had gotten it for you. The next day in class, you thanked him profusely only for him to look confused and say:

"uhhh thanks?"

Felix's blood began to boil. He couldn't believe that this Jag was taking credit for a $5,000 necklace and a new iPod that Felix had gone out of his way to buy. It wasn't a huge expense on Felix, he bought it with some money he found in his dorm but it was the principle of the fact that irked his last nerve. From that moment on, he despised your friend and began his plan to win you over.

Felix wasn't stupid, he wanted to keep tabs on you so he had the iPod implanted with a tracker so he could have your documents on his phone. Next, he saw that you were going to the pub so he decided to make his move there and ask you out by buying you a drink. He saw your message to your friend about loving a specific scent on men and he went out and bought it the next day. Felix put on his best outfit and gathered his friends to go to the pub.

You were sitting in a black dress that was a tad bit too short and nursing a cosmopolitan. Felix saw you and his eyes immediately lit up:

"Do I hear wedding bells?" Farleigh teased, holding a cigarette and smirking

"Shut up, Farleigh" Felix said, blushing as he made his way over to you.

He walked up to the bar and asked the bartender for a cosmopolitan on him:

"I'll buy the lady's next one" he said, confidently

"Oh! Thank you but I was just about to head home" you said

"Nonsense, it's only 12 on a Friday," Felix said trying to get you to stay.

"No no, I should get home and study but it was nice speaking to you and Thank you for the drink offer" you said, attempting to excuse yourself but Felix's strong build held you in.

"Oh come now, Y/n. Have fun it's just one drink" he smiled

"How do you know my name?" you asked confused

Felix realized that he had slipped up. He was supposed to ask your name and you were supposed to introduce yourself in a story that he would tell your future children.

"Uhh we're in the same class" he stumbled

"Which class?" you asked

All of them. But Felix couldn't say that because he didn't want to scare you off so he settled with:

"Literature"

"Ohhhh. Hey don't you sit behind me? Oh! You must be Felix" you stood up, suddenly remembering where this suave stranger was from

"Yeah haha. Small world, huh?" he said, relief littering his tone.

"Yeah" you cooed.

"Well I should leave but maybe we could get drinks another time, here's my number," you said giving Felix the number to your new ipod.

"Yeah of course, darling" Felix smirked

"Darling?" you asked, tilting your head a bit smiling

"Yes?" Felix let out a cheeky smile.

[heroes-among-us-all]

A Perfect Match

summary: Chisaki isn't looking forward to meeting his soulmate, at least not until he discovers that you are Quirkless.

tags: soulmate!au, fluff, fem!reader

It’s just so annoying. Even though he’s lived with it all his life, Chisaki swears he’ll never get used to seeing that godforsaken timer counting down. It’s always there, in the corner of his periphery, and it only ever disappears when he shuts his eyes and lets everything fade to black.  

A soulmate mark. That’s what it’s called. People have different variations of it—some know the first words their soulmate will ever speak to them, some have a red string tying them to their soulmate that only they can see, and others, like him, have been stuck with a timer since birth that tells him how much longer until he meets his soulmate for the first time.  

And based on how much time is remaining, it looks like he’ll be meeting his soulmate today.  

Chisaki isn’t excited. If anything, he’s dreading the encounter, and he just wishes it would hurry up and be over with. At least then, the timer will disappear, and it’ll be one less thing grating at his nerves. He doesn’t believe in the phenomenon of soulmates, he has no desire for trifling matters such as love, and for a man who loathes being touched, he can’t imagine it would work out anyhow.  

Much of the day goes as planned. He helps Pops with some paperwork, cleans up the office to keep all those pesky germs away, and Chisaki briefly wonders how he’ll even meet you, since he intends on staying home all day.  

“Chisaki,” Pops suddenly says. “Would you mind going out into town and buying me a few things? I wrote a list of what I need.”  

Ah. So, that’s how.  

“Of course,” Chisaki nods, and he puts on his jacket before slipping his shoes on by the door. “I’ll be back soon. It won’t take long.”  

Seriously, it really won’t. Regardless of the fact that he’s going to run into you, he has no intention of staying and chatting. He’s going to reject you right on the spot. Soulmates aren’t real, anyways. What a stupid notion, to think that someone’s greatest love can be predetermined.  

Chisaki adjusts his mask more tightly, then steps outside. He reaches the store quickly enough, and although he hates having to touch things that countless strangers have laid hands on, his gloves provide him with a thin layer of protection from all the filth.  

He tracks down everything he needs at a steady pace, and as he reaches for the very last item on his list, someone else reaches for it at the exact same time.  

Immediately, Chisaki recoils, and he manages to avoid touching a stranger’s hand. But right as he’s biting back the urge to grimace, he realizes that the timer—the same timer he’s had all his life—his finally disappeared.  

Ah.  

So, it’s you. Chisaki turns his head to the side and finds himself looking at a young woman, who is staring back at him wide-eyed and breathless. He has a pretty good idea of what’s going on in your head. You must have realized it, too.  

After more than two decades, he’s finally met his soulmate.  

You’re pretty. Chisaki can at least admit that much. You have nice features, you dress in a way that suggest you care about your appearance, and you have a pleasant, clean scent, which means that you take personal hygiene seriously—thank god.  

But all that being said, Chisaki still has no desire to strike up a relationship with you. He doesn’t enjoy being around people. He can’t even bear to touch people, not counting Pops, who is his family. Not to mention that he’s part of the yakuza, and from what he gleams, you seem to be an average citizen.  

There’s just no reality in which this would ever work out.  

“U-Um,” you stammer, visibly nervous. “Are you...? I mean, um... it’s you, right? You must be my... soulmate.”  

It’s a bit endearing how flustered you are, and for a moment, Chisaki feels slightly guilty about what he’s going to do.  

Still. It’s better to tell you the truth now rather than let you get your hopes up. 

“The timer,” Chisaki nods. “I have it too. Well, I did have it. Up until a few seconds ago, at least.”  

A smile blooms across your lips, and it tugs at his heartstrings a bit, because goodness, you really are adorable.  

“I knew it!” you beam. “Oh my god, I can’t believe this is really happening! I’m so excited! But I guess that was pretty obvious, haha. Sorry. I’m going to try to calm down now, but it’s just—this is just so—”  

Chisaki raises a hand. “Before you say anything else, I need to let you know that I have no interest in pursuing a relationship with you.”  

It only takes a second for your expression to sink. 

“...what?” you mumble softly. “But... we’re soulmates. I thought that means we’re supposed to be together for the rest of our lives. I didn’t mean that we should start dating right away, but at the very least, if we could start by getting to know each other...”  

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki says. “I don’t have much interest in romance. I prefer to keep to myself, and frankly, I’m not even sure I believe in soulmates. It all seems far too convenient. It was nice meeting you, but we’ll have to leave it here.”  

By the looks of things, you’re on the verge of tears. Chisaki isn’t a very emotional person, but he can’t fault you for getting your hopes up. This must have been something you’d been looking forward to for many, many years. If only your soulmate was someone else. It’s a pity. You seem like a very nice woman, and he hopes that you’ll find happiness one way or another. Just not with him.  

You swallow hard, just barely managing to hold back your tears. “I... understand. I’m sorry. I came into this with all these expectations, but I never stopped to think that the other person might not have been as excited as I was. I guess I was just really hopeful. I’m Quirkless, so... people have always thought less of me. I figured my soulmate would like me no matter what, but we’re pretty much strangers, so I don’t know what I was thinking. Anyways, I’m sorry again for bothering you. I’d ask your name, but it would probably just make the whole thing more painful.”  

You turn to leave, but in that moment, Chisaki’s eyes have gone completely wide.  

What did she just say?  

“Wait!” he cries out, and you reel to a halt, surprised by the outburst.  

Now it’s Chisaki’s turn to swallow. The roof of his mouth feels dry and uncomfortable, and he worries that perhaps his ears deceived him. 

“You’re Quirkless,” he breathes. “Is that... really true?”  

“I’m not sure who would lie about something like that,” you chuckle weakly. “It’s not exactly something to be proud of.”  

Wrong. You don’t even know just how wrong you are.  

In a world teeming with filth and sickness, those who haven’t been contaminated by the Quirk pandemic are a rarity. People like you are unblemished and pure, and... 

Shit. Chisaki is starting to believe that soulmates might be the real deal, after all.  

“It’s okay not to have a Quirk,” he says, and it’s insane how fast his heart is beating now. “No. It’s better not to have a Quirk. I much prefer it that way.”  

You press your lips together. “Are you making fun of me right now? Listen, I said I was sorry for bothering you—”  

“I’m not making fun of you. I’m being completely serious. Quirks... I’ve never liked them. Just the thought of them makes me sick.” He pauses, inhales sharply to collect himself, then lets out a heavy sigh. “The reason I turned you away is because I thought it would be impossible for us to have a relationship. I break out into hives the moment anyone touches me. I distance myself from people, and the thought of being intimate with someone has always repulsed me. And Quirks are largely to blame for that, because Quirks are a mutation. A disease. That’s why I didn’t think we had a chance. But now that you say you’re Quirkless... I’m starting to think differently.”  

You arch a brow, and it’s clear that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. Fuck. He hopes he isn’t scaring you off. He’s finally, finally found someone who he has an actual chance of being with, and he doesn’t want to ruin this.  

“If you don’t mind... would it be alright if I held your hand?” Chisaki asks breathlessly.  

Once again, you stare back at him in confusion, but it thankfully doesn’t look like you’re opposed to it. You reach out a hand, slow and hesitant, and at the same time, Chisaki peels off on his gloves, letting his skin breathe free.  

When your fingers meet his own, he lets out a soft gasp. Not out of disgust, not out of apprehension, but out of sheer relief.  

No hives. No uncomfortable tightness in his chest.  

You aren’t sick like the rest, which means he can touch you to his heart’s content.  

Chisaki would have liked to hold your hand for much, much longer, but out of fear of scaring you off, he reluctantly lets go and gives you some space.  

“I just wanted to confirm something,” he mumbles. “If it’s you... I’m able to touch you just fine. I don’t get sick. It looks like we’re soulmates for a reason.”  

The look in your eyes is far from judgmental, and when you finally muster up your next words, Chisaki can hear a little hiccup catch in your throat. 

“So... you really don’t mind that I’m Quirkless?” you ask.  

“Not at all. It’s just the opposite. I feel comfortable around you precisely because you’re Quirkless. That must be why we were fated to meet. Because we’re a perfect match.”  

Chisaki has never flirted a day in his damn life, but something he said must have tickled your fancy, because you blush and shyly avert your gaze.  

“I was really worried there for a moment,” you mumble. “It sounded like you wanted nothing to do with me.”  

“I’m sorry,” Chisaki frowns. “I was too quick to judge. I’m very particular about certain things, and I thought there was no chance. But I was mistaken. And if you’re still open to it... I would love the opportunity to get to know you better. Starting with your name. Would you mind telling me your name?”  

“I’m [Name],” you reply, and you flash him another bright, genuine smile. God, he swears he’s already fallen in love with that smile.  

“It suits you. I’m Chisaki. Chisaki Kai.” He takes a moment to think it through, and then, he does something he’s never done before in public.  

He removes his mask so that you can see his entire face.  

Your eyes widen. “Oh, wow. Chisaki, you’re so handsome! I didn’t realize my soulmate would be so gorgeous. Now I can’t help but feel self-conscious by comparison...”  

“I appreciate the compliment,” he chuckles. “But you’re beautiful. I thought so even before I found out you were Quirkless.”  

He watches, with great delight, as you blush yet again. You’re just so adorable. He never thought he would be thanking his lucky stars for having a soulmate mark, let alone one that caused him endless frustration for more than twenty years, but here he is.  

“I was going to head straight home after running some errands for my old man, but how about we sit outside somewhere and chat for a while?” he asks hopefully.  

Your smile returns, this time, wider than ever.  

“Sure!”  

As it turns out, Chisaki doesn’t get back home until much, much later, and he finds Pops waiting for him with his arms crossed.  

“Chisaki,” Pops frowns. “What was the hold-up? You’re usually so efficient when it comes to these things. I was expecting you back hours ago.”  

Normally, Chisaki would have apologized at great length for inconveniencing Pops. He is, after all, the man that brought him and raised him as his own. He loves and cherishes him, and will do anything in his power to repay him. 

But right now, Chisaki is up in cloud nine.  

“I met my soulmate,” he says, setting the shopping bags down. “Sorry, Pops. We got to talking for a while.”  

“Oh?” Pops lifts a brow, and tries—but fails—to hide his smirk. “But I thought you said you wanted nothing to do with them. You told me you didn’t believe in such things.”  

“Well, I changed my mind.”  

“I’ve never known you to be the type to do that. You’re stubborn to a fault. But I’m not complaining. It sounds like you’ve turned over a new leaf. So, then, tell me about this soulmate of yours.”  

For the second time that same day, Chisaki removes his mask—and it’s so that Pops can see his ear-splitting grin.  

“She’s perfect.”  

[yan-lorkai]

Hello! I have a Black butler request if you don’t mind! (It can be yandere but If you can make it not to noticeable??? If that makes sense.)

If I may could I request a Ciel Phantomhive x Cruella De Vill reader? I mean not exactly like Cruella but the fact she was born with hair spilt between black and white, she owns multiple Dalmatians which are really aggressive guard dogs for her. And she has a wonderful sense of fashion, even though most her clothes are only black, white or red. She even has a nickname that combines her name and Cruel together (like “Cruel-(/N)”) because she can be really honest and it comes off as rude. She is short temper but unlike Cruella she is only occasionally sassy but most of the time she is quiet because she used to get made fun of for her hair.

Also I was hoping it would be a oneshot, with a few hc. But if that’s to much it can just be hc! Thank you and have a nice day!

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I hope I did this rq justice because I absolutely loved it. Detailed rqs my beloveds. As you ask, I did some hcs and then wrote a little drabble, though I do apologize for such delay in answer it. Hope you like darling <33

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Platonic content. Maybe typos too.

☆*: In Ciel's ears, the news of a figure with two-tone hair who only dresses in black and red reaches him through gossip that Lau felt the need to share. The rumors, however, were not enough to capture the earl's attention at first. Who cares if Londoners are talking about this girl because she acts different and has a sharp tongue? Who cares if she has some protective dogs who can attack on command?

☆*: Certainly not Ciel. He has better things to worry about being the Queen's Watchdog besides running his own company. Gossip and rumors are not something that holds his attention unless they are related to the murderers who killed his parents.

☆*: So it takes a while before you finally get to know each other and he can get a glimpse of your strong genius. And heavens, he's enchanted, even if he doesn't know it, feelings aren't Ciel's thing. One thing he knows, this night will be one he would never forget.

...

Reluctantly, Ciel was participating in the celebration. A glass of juice in his hand as he watched each of the nobles approach the throne, kneel and say their rehearsed congratulations. So typical of nobles, so insincere. He hated it here, he could be doing so many things right in the comfort of his office. Still, he smiled and played his part when all adults around him looked down on him just because he was the only child here.

The starry night became filled with light and laughter; The Queen was throwing a party to celebrate another birthday well spent. Her age-kissed skin was still glowing, her eyes carrying a tinge of unforgettable joy, and her voice a jovial tone. As usual, she sat on her throne and waited for one by one the nobles to greet and boast about the gifts that were certainly better than the others.

It was funny to watch though. They all just seemed like jealous peacocks, huffing and puffing their feathers, wanting the queen attention on them.

Sebastian when can we leave? was what he wanted to ask to the butler at his side. What he almost asked. But right at that moment he heard a commotion.

A few meters ahead stood the notorious Cru-y/n DeVil, your presence commanding attention. Ciel couldn't help but be drawn to you, his gaze fixating on you with a mixture of intrigue and caution. Despite your reputation, he couldn't deny your beauty, a striking contrast to the darkness that surrounded your name. You were young, much like himself, yet exuded a confidence that belied your age, almost as if you too had to grown fast to protect yourself.

You seemed to be fighting a much older and powerful woman. The duchess who was always looking to fight someone and today had just found her new victim. But you aren't having any of that, making exaggerated gestures and smiling mockingly at the duchess.

Ciel observed the scene with a mixture of amusement and exasperation, at least the party turned out to be entertaining with this little fight happening and the queen was also watching you two too intently, curious, not at all bothered by it. Ciel couldn't help but roll his eyes when the duchess continued to argue and pointed her finger at you.

"Your hat is adorable" You say in a loud and clear tone, with the sweetest smile you can produce. "I'm sure it was worth sacrificing Big Bird, its poor beautiful yellow feathers wasted on this hat that perfectly fit your head."

A murmur starts around the two of you, some are laughing loudly, others are whispering among themselves, repeating what you said. The duchess, wanting to appear strong and resilient, fixes her khaki yellow hat - that barely fits in her head, lifts her chin an extra millimeter and leaves. However, Ciel knew that your comment would still haunt her for months to come. Today she had lost a fight and was insulted.

Undeniable was that the hat was horrendous.

Holding back a laugh that seems to want to escape him anyway, Ciel takes off his hat in greeting to you as soon as your eyes meet. He understood now why everyone was talking about you so much. To the court you were like a fresh breath of air, devastating if you hate it, great if you like it. And he absolutely like it. Not a lot of younger aristocrats behave this way and he really needs someone different to spend time, as Elizabeth is quite overwhelming with her affection and Sullivan is busy.

He approach you and with this gesture, plans to know more about you. He is now curious and his curiosity must be satisfied.