#think he would be able to see out of the eyes of every bee in his hive?

[caleism-1]

SAM’S BEEN INFECTED

Danny Phantom AU where he’s a beekeeper

[obsessedwrhys]

hi baby, you can make an hcs of the characters from The Boys with a Harley Quinn! readers?? With all characters including Soldier Boy

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ THE BOYS X HARLEY QUINN!READER

ᯓ★ looots of goofy shit, dark humour, gore, sensitive topics (abuse, toxic relationships, etc), toxicity, reader is fem!!

ᯓ★ Characters included (I couldn't do everyone so I just did these guys, I know yer kind missy 👴): Homelander, Black Noir (Old and New), Butcher, Soldier Boy

HOMELANDER

He's honestly so fed up with you.

Sure he loves watching you mess with people but he does not like it when YOU DO IT TO HIM!!!

"Quinn!" He'd shout for your name and you'd open the door to see him standing outside your room. You laugh when you see him covered in ketchup. One of your many pranks.

"What?? You needed the upgrade for the suit cupcake" You smiled all innocently.

That being said you LOVE pulling pranks on him.

Whether if it's putting hair dye in his shampoo or stealing his suit so he wakes up searching for it.

It's just your favourite thing to do.

There have been times he's tried to kill you due to his rage but it takes every cell in his body to stop himself because he knows that he's not able to do that.

Because why? Because he thinks you don't even deserve to be killed by him directly.

You disgust him that much.

He just wishes that you weren't such a pain in his ass.

If the pranks weren't bad enough that it had him double checking every item he uses, AKA worsening his trust issues. You've also came up with nicknames to mock his superhero status.

"If it ain't the flying dick!" You'd address his entrance to everybody the moment he walked in the meeting room.

Just imagine him suddenly stop and standing at the door like 🧍‍♂️

If you wanna know more nicknames, we've got captain narcissist, america's buttplug and sperm cell.

Trust you are never sent on safely planned missions, only the ones he knows are highly dangerous in hopes of you dying...

There was this one time he sent you on a suicide mission and he was all proud of himself, but just as he thought he finally got rid of you, the elevator door slides open to reveal you, some fabrics of your clothes were ripped and there were bruises all over your body but it didn't seem to bother you.

"What's up toots?" You'd smile even though your nose was bleeding. That's when he looked down to see the head of the guy he asked for you to assassinate.

Who also happened to be one of the most protected men in the nations by the way.

Like how the fuck did you do it?

You're not even an ACTUAL supe!!

Regardless, he has his respects for you but really why WONT YOU LEAVE HIM THE FUCK ALONE.

PLEASE STOP FLIRTING WITH HIM SO CASUALLY ITS WEIRD??!???!?

ALSO DONT PINCH HIS BUTT!!!

You once did that during a meeting and the sight of him yelping as his body jumps was unforgettable!!

You're JUST like a bee addicted to its pollen. P.S, he's the pollen.

BLACK NOIR (OLD)

He.. doesn't... understand you??

Why do you enjoy showering him with love??

You say it's in your nature but why do you always ask to be carried around the tower??

And why does he obliges each time??

Apparently how your mindset works is that you find extremely deadly things to be adorable.

In this case, he's the extremely deadly thing.

With his silent nature, you just NEEDED to get a reaction out of him.

You tried tickling him or making him sneeze but he always just stares at you in confusion.

You can't see his face but you can tell he's giving you the "What are you doing?" Face.

That's when your bright ass thought of a plan.

A dumb and reckless idea... but hey! You have suicidal tendencies so this is fine!

You'd put yourself in danger on purpose just for him to always come rescuing you. He has lost many body parts when doing so but you could care less, you would give him those heart eyes as he carried you back to Vought in bridal style...

Just for the managers to lock you up in a small prison cell to prevent you from pulling more of these stunts.

Though they were never enough to hold you back.

Naturally there would be rumours in the industry if you two were dating and you never hesitate to push those rumours even more.

Imagine for a premiere for your movie, you'd walk on the red carpet in a dress with Noir beside you, still in his signature suit.

"You're looking real good tonight, handsome. I'm liking what I see" You'd say with your arm wrapped around his. He looks at you as you winked at him seductively.

Someone save this poor boy from your endless flirting.

Jokes aside, there has been times he's seen you in your lowest, like that time you trashed your room with your makeup melted from your tears.

Apparently you got rejected from a movie role you wanted to get so badly. Which was Mario but stupid Chris fucking Pratt got it instead.

Seeing the state you were in, he'd grab you by the shoulders firmly and make you sit down, then putting a blanket around you. He'd leave the room for a couple of minutes... to come back with a bucket of ice cream for you to happily snack on as you rest your head on his shoulder.

BLACK NOIR (NEW)

"EW!! Get this mo'fuckin' bastard away from me!" Literally your words when you heard about the replacement.

Is a bit hurt by your disgust towards him??

But that just means he knows what he's doing right or wrong with this new role.

No because seriously everything he does, he would stop to watch for your reaction, most of the time you are never impressed.

Like how he killed those homelander fans to frame the starlighters. He'd hold the bat, his mask all bloody as he turned to see you, arms crossed, no reaction to his performance.

UNTIL at the end of season 4 where he began killing people within the company, that was what got you to start growing interest in his character.

Even though you're fine with him, for now, you really don't like it when he pushes things.

As in trying too hard to replace the old Black Noir. You just don't fw it 😡

"Hey! Hey! Harley wait up!" He'd call out for you while you ignored him and decided to speed walk away. Anyways, he manages to catch up with you.

"The team wants us to attend the premiere of your next movie together.. since.... y'know... we're rumoured to be dating??" He said and you had to stop walking to put your entire energy into giving him the most NASTIEST look. The second he sees you take a deep breath, he knew it was over.

"I ain't yer GODDAMN babysitter, and don't you think that for a second that wearin' the suit makes you my damn boyfriend, alright? I ain't here to hold yer hand and coddle you. I got better things to do than listen to yer constant whining and need for attention. So knock it off, ya copy-cat!" You'd point at him before walking off, hand on your hip.

You can bet that he asks Deep for advices on how to win your heart.

BRO IS TOO INVESTED IN HIS CHARACTER 😭

That's why he thinks making you fall for him is one of Noir's characteristics.

You love mysterious and threatening looking people? Okay gotcha.

You want hyenas for pets? Cha-Ching! Got it!

But seriously someone please tell him to stop before he gets his ass beat. He does not want that Brooklyn smoke.

BILLY BUTCHER

Ah great another crazy chick.

The only possibility to why you'd be apart of the boys is if someone vouched for you.

50/50 it's either Hughie or Frenchie.

Though surprisingly enough, you were the first to notice the symptoms of his virus. Like he could be fidgeting at the office and you'd point it out so casually that everybody turns to look at you in confusion.

Everybody thought you were crazy at first, it's to be expected, but the second his virus was confirmed to be lethal. Everybody has started to take you a bit more seriously.

Read carefully. A bit.

He finds your weapons fascinating though. Like how your gun has words engraved in it, your initials being the biggest. Not to mention the designs being the inspiration of poker cards.

"That must make you the clown" He once said when you whipped it out to shoot someone. You smile mischievously at his remark.

"Oh you'd better watch your tongue before I make you the punchline of my next joke!"

He likes you.

ONLY if you don't fuck anything up.

Sure you guys do argue a lot but theres also strange moments of understanding between you two.

There was this one time he found you alone in the office, your legs placed on the table and you were literally downing a bottle of alcohol. It was when he came closer that he noticed the bruises on your body.

"What the hell happened to you?" He said and you sniffed as you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes.

"Oh, I'm just peachy, tough guy... Can't you see I'm having a little cry-fest over here after a lover's spat with my oh-so-darling ex-boyfriend. Yeah, he just looooves to use me as his personal punchin' bag, y'know? But don't worry 'bout me. I'll be back to my ol' crazy self in no time. Just need a minute to let the tears dry and the bruises heal"

For the rest of the night he'd stay to talk about how shitty both your lives are. You guys actually BOND over your past traumas.

The booze just making the conversation ever more fun.

Will go out of his way to take you to places for shopping or eating at a restaurant to make you feel better.

After understanding you better, he realised you're just a once normal person who became a psychotic sociopath after whatever the supes did to wrong you.

He may not show it to you but he really cares about you and would not hesitate to protect you despite how much he says he wish you'd just fuck off.

SOLDIER BOY

You have to be some kind of masochist right??

He says the most disrespectful shit to you and you just squeal in excitement from it.

It's starting to weird him out.

Everything he does or say, you love to mock him, like he could be giving orders and you'd be at the back using your hands to mimic his talking like a puppet as you mouthed along and made faces.

But he has to say, he finds your insanity amusing. Because deep down, he sees a tiny bit of himself in you.

He calls you Looney Tunes. Why exactly? Nobody knows its for his own entertainment.

He's into older women but that doesn't stop you from flirting with him. He finds your efforts interesting.

"You're a tough nut to crack, Soldier Boy, but I'll get you to crack a smile eventually" You'd say and it'll be enough to have him grinning at you.

"You gonna tickle me?" He'd say, returning the same energy.

But that doesn't mean he's interested in you, he's just toying with you.

AND YOU KNOW IT. But apparently red flags just look like a go flag to you 🤷‍♀️

Despite that, if any other guy did the things he did to you, he would be fast to knock out the fucker. That's because he knows you value loyalty and he does too.

Everything aside, he really appreciates it when at the end where everybody turned against him you stayed by his side. Just imagine him driving the car while you're in the passenger seat singing your heart out to Cherry Bomb by The Runaways.

He'd simply shake his head with a smile on his face.

But the more relationship develops, he'd actually start to show you his softer side. Not soft side. Soft-er side.

Will literally lecture you into standing up more for yourself and stop being a doormat for every man in your life.

How ironic huh?

"You might act all tough and macho, but I see that big, marshmallow heart under there, sweetheart" You'd boop him on the nose that has him rolling his eyes with a smirk.

"You already said that. Are you a broken record or just dim?" He said.

If you stay obedient and don't push the wrong buttons, he might just keep you around.

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"You surely don't believe...you can beat me?"

Bio: Since everyone liked the first one, I made another based on this post.

Lili Rochefort!reader x yandere batfam

The next Iron Fist tournament was being held in Gotham, and you were bouncing up and down with excitement, giggling like a schoolgirl. Of course, you signed up, writing your name on the dotted line with a pink pen. Little did you know your family would be attending, so when it was your turn to fight, you saw them in their fancy suits and dresses. But you wouldn't let them ruin your fun. You strutted down to the ring, flipping your blonde hair to the side and gently wiping it away from your face. Your pink, little, open-finger boxing gloves and stylish pink dress, along with heels—yes, not fighting-proof, but who cares?—were quite a sight. You saw a dude wearing a tiger head, but when they spotted you taking a fighting stance, let's just say they were having a full-on heart attack. I mean, you dressed like a princess, acted like a princess, and enjoyed sweet peppermint tea with cookies. You do not fight!

Bruce is absolutely confused. Why are you in the tournament? He thought you were doing this for attention or were just an announcer, but when you roundhouse kicked a man cold onto the mat, he was in pure shock. His daughter, who used to play with dolls and have tea parties with a teddy bear, is not fighting grown men in a tournament ring. He's sitting at the edge of his chair, watching you dodge every punch and every hit, hoping they don't touch your sweet face. He's terrified but also very impressed. How did you learn to move like that? Is that one of your ballet moves he watched you do when you played the Swan Princess? He's so confused and scared. If you wanted a good fight, the two of you could have brawled, but he would be gentle, of course your still his little girl.

Dick just came back with the drinks and snacks, only to see your last fight on the big screen. Your finishing move—a flip into a kick—was amazing! How did you make gymnastics look so elegant, and ballet look so violent? You're so good, and you're doing all this in heels! He literally dropped his popcorn on Jason, who was sitting in the second row, making him look up at the big screen to see what Dick was gawking at. And that spoiled Bart is a fighter, and a good one at that. You're taking out guys twice your size and beating literal assassins. He did watch you leave the family gym all tired; he thought it was just gym and ballet, not fighting. But he feels some pride seeing you fight. If those losers touch a hair on your head, they're dead.

Tim is analyzing your fighting style and how you're able to put all your weight into one kick. He is intrigued and completely engrossed in the fight, but as he watched you, all you care about is the fight. You don't care for the trophy, award money, or the Mishima company; you just want to fight. He sees it in your crazed smile that you try to hide behind a girlish giggle and little taunts, how you flip your hair after every [action] to hide how giddy you are—a little devil in angel clothes. He is studying you like never before, plus you like the attention.

Duke and Steph are cheering; their names are the only ones in the family actively yelling at the tournament. Their eyes never leave you—each kick, each punch, each dodge. It's like you're a butterfly, so sweet and graceful, but your kicks are as bruising as a bee's. You can't help but blush as you hear them yell your name from the stands. Why do you care now, all of a sudden? You let it slide, but when the big screen switches to them shouting your name, you hide your face behind your blond locks. They're killing your vibe. Cassandra is in pure awe of the way you fight; it's making her wish she were in the ring against you. She never paid you any mind, thinking you were just weaker prey, something she had to protect and take care of from afar. But when she sees you go all out, you're not some pretty house cat; you're a lioness stalking her prey. She must fight you; the two of you must go toe-to-toe as sisters of course, and no one else can be your opponent, obviously.

Damian, don't get me started. His face is full of scowl; sure, he likes the fights, but you should not be there. Remember, you're a Wayne. For God's sake, you're ruining your reputation by being a fighter in some stupid tournament. If you wanted a good fight, he would be a great option, or he could get some of his assassins from Ra's estate to fight you. It's some cry for attention because it's clearly working, but when someone lands a hit on you, giving you a small bloody nose, security has to hold him back while a small dagger is in his hands. No one puts their hand on you, and I repeat, no one!!!

[vroomvroomwee]

I know we're all blown away by David and Michael's performances in the finale, but I don't think we're talking enough about how realistic it was.

It was incredible, but it was also so fucking realistic. Something you don't see even class A actors do.

The way Crowley had to pause, look up, as if expecting something, someone, to give him the words, the strength because he was losing it with every sentence. The way he looks up because he can't look at Aziraphale otherwise he'll break down. The way he can't catch his breath because his heart is beating so fast and he needs a few seconds to collect himself. The way you can actually feel that lump in your throat whenever you're close to tears, the one that pushes up when your eyes are losing their capacity to hold back tears, when he breaks off and let's out that desperate sound. The way he looks away immediately afterwards. The way he starts fumbling for words when he mentions Bee and Gabriel because panick is taking in and all his concentration is focused on not crying and not being able to form sentences and collect his thoughts. Then lamely ending it with "you and me, what do you say?" Because he can't physically talk anymore even though he has so much more to say, to confess, but he can't.

And then being absolutely wrecked with Aziraphale's "I need you" the moment he sees he's not the only one on the brink of crying, that it's mutual, that they both feel like this.

The entire scene wasn't acted out dramatically or over doing it, as if they were in some american teenage drama, it was realistic, it was how real people would handle the situation and how real people would feel and act in real life. It was fucking amazing

[slytherinshua]

꩜　EMOTIONS OVER LAUNDRY　( 최연준 )

genre hurt/comfort , parent au , husband!yeonjun x fem!reader   cw they have a newborn daughter , mention of struggling to conceive , yeonjun crying , small mention of postpartum/newborn anxiety , not proofread   wc 917   request 🥟 anon for yeonjun + folded laundry for the 3k event   note still in my txt era so bad and also yeonjun :( our healing i love him so much he would be such a good dad </3 i've been listening to love sailing by cha eunwoo the entire time while writing this and i am NOT okay it's 3 am and i may cry   net @kstrucknet @moadiarynet

You didn’t expect to come home to see your husband crying while folding laundry. At first, you thought something must be seriously wrong. Yeonjun was always fairly emotional, but you hadn’t seen him cry since you gave birth to your baby girl Yejin two weeks ago. He wasn’t one to cry over little things, and the tears only started falling when he was stressed or upset or overwhelmed with emotion. Seeing his red nose and puffy eyes sitting in the middle of the living room floor took you off guard. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?” You were holding your newborn in one arm and shrugging off your jacket with the other, eyes glancing over your baby’s face once again. 

The new mother anxiety was something you had somewhat anticipated and prepared for. But just how anxious and paranoid you were over your newborn child still surprised you. It was like if you took your eyes off of her for more than ten seconds, something horrible was bound to happen to her. Your mind was put at ease to find her still sleeping soundly in your arms. The walk around the newbourhood in her stroller had tired her out, and carrying her back inside did nothing to wake her.

Your husband looked up at you with fresh tears in his eyes and a pout on his lips, sniffing quietly. You walked over to where he was sitting, gently transferring Yejin to her newborn rocker where she could continue napping safely. Then, you turned to your husband and raised an eyebrow as if to reiterate your previous question without verbally stating it again. 

“It’s nothing, just…” Yeonjun trailed off with a sigh, a light pink baby onesie on one of his hands. The garment was so small compared to him. Even the small stacks of neatly folded clothes looked tiny, although it was nearly half your daughter’s wardrobe. 

“She’s so small,” Yeonjun whispered, another tear rolling down his cheek. Immediately, you understood exactly where all the emotions were coming from. It happened to you a few times as well when Yejin was particularly cute or you remembered just how long you and Yeonjun had tried for a child, all the struggle it took to get to this point. It was all worth it for her, your perfect little bundle of joy. Even looking at her brought a smile to your face. Even though it had been hard, for her, you would do it all again in a heartbeat. 

“And—and, I was folding her clothes, and they’re all just so small, just like her. And she’s so, so cute, and she’s really ours. It doesn’t feel real that she’s finally here. Sometimes I think I’ll wake up one day and realize this was all a dream, like we’re back a few years ago still trying for her,” Yeonjun breathed, words mumbled in his choked up voice. 

You shifted closer to him, brushing a hand up and down his back as he leant into your touch. With how often Yeonjun had comforted you and wiped your tears away during pregnancy, now it was your turn to do the same for him. 

You had taken it hard back then. Every negative test, every piece of false hope, every month that went by without progress; your husband was there to comfort you through it all. He stayed firm and strong when you weren’t able to. You knew he had been holding back his own feelings on it for you, not wanting to show how much it affected him too. You’d be blind to not see how much it was hurting him as well. He had always wanted a family just as much as you had, and you knew just how happy he was to have finally been able to start one. 

It was just an emotional journey. 

Yeonjun fully rested his head on your shoulder, warm tears dripping onto your shirt. You didn’t mind. You just continued to stroke his back, reaching out to hold one of his hands and giving it a reassuring squeeze. Yeonjun couldn’t stay strong forever. Although it had been two weeks since you came home from the hospital, it felt like today was the first time you truly got to relax and breathe. Caring for a newborn was nonstop, and you were both running on sleepless nights and parenting anxiety. You worked through it like you did anything, though. As long as you had each other, you were sure things would turn out okay. 

“I’m sorry,” Yeonjun whispered after minutes of silence. “I didn’t mean to get so emotional all of a sudden.” He pulled back from the hug and sent you a small smile, assuring you silently that he was okay, that those small moments of comfort were all he needed. He carefully folded the small onesie he was still holding and placed it on top of the stack of other similar ones. 

Leaning over the baby rocker, he smiled brightly at his daughter. Still sleeping soundly without a care in the world, wrapped up in a soft yellow onesie. Her hands were balled into little tiny fists, so small that they could barely wrap around Yeonjun’s thumb. 

He brushed a few fingers over Yejin’s head and soft wispy strands of hair. It was peaceful watching her sleep, and a feeling of reassurance washed over Yeonjun. He was her dad, and he loved her more than anything in the world. He’d sacrifice everything for her— his perfect little angel. 

txt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @90steele,, @ddeonudepressions,, @cham3li,, @wolfmoonmusic,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @blossominghunnie,, @amara-mars,, @wccycc,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @sxmmerberries,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @stannwjnss,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @stantxtforabetterlife,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hyukabean,, @nicholasluvbot,, @i03jae

[lordprettyflackotara]

danger || masky & eyeless jack

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: threesome! congrats you take a trip to paris! exhibitionism, breeding, slight size kink, rough sex, degrading, face fucking

Masky did not consider himself a selfish man.

If anything he thought of himself to be reasonable.

So when it came to meeting you by mistake, a stereotypical robbery he was performing going wrong, he didn’t consider himself selfish for not killing you.

If anyone knew the proxies golden rule of never being able to be traced it was him. But maybe he was selfish when it came to you. You were a little small town receptionist in a town he frequented. Not necessarily for missions, but he passed through frequently. If anyone knew of your existence you’d be terminated on the spot. You knew Masky lived a fast and unpredictable life, but he made sure to keep you in the shadows as to why or how. He figured you just accepted that he was in a gang or the mafia or something. It would be the most logical assumption, especially with the mask glued to his face and off putting name. Still though, Masky found himself going to see you every chance he got. As time went on he began accepting and asking for more solo missions, using the extra tasks as an excuse to see you.

He thought he had done a damn good job of keeping you safe from his terrifying life, until you had followed him into the forest as he trudged home.

It was nothing but morbid curiosity that led you to nip at Masky’s heels as you followed him. You were surprised he hadn’t heard you, your lover stopping at the forest line. Your eyes widened at the sight of a large seemingly unoccupied mansion that sat in the middle of a well trimmed field. Many questions ran through your mind, the most important one being: why would Masky willingly live here? It wasn’t necessarily out of character but it wasn’t the most flattering choice. Your boyfriend was ominous and mysterious, purposefully keeping you in the dark about his life. At first it was intriguing, but the longer he kept the affair going, the more curious you became. Despite the relationship revolving around sex, you wanted to discuss taking things to the next level. Maybe instead of raw dogging in your car you could try a movie instead. You couldn’t think of a better way than showing him you were serious by showing your dedication.

Most people wouldn’t follow their possible mafia boyfriend into a patch of secluded woods, but nevertheless you did so. You thought maybe he realized you were there, inhaling his cigarette as he stood at the forest line. “Hey there,” You greeted excitedly. Masky jumped at the sound of your voice, realizing he was too lost in his own thoughts to hear you follow him. “Princess? What the fuck are you doing here?” He snapped, becoming increasingly panicked. There were many horrific scenarios that could occur with you being here. It was a miracle The Rake hadn’t heard your heart beating or smelled you. The next terrifying scenario was Smile Dog smelling you, but he remembered Jeff took him and Nina on a late night killing spree. They called themselves ‘the triple threat’, which until now Masky thought was incredibly stupid. He now was suddenly thankful for Jeff and his inflated ego.

Next was The Operator, who could most likely read your thoughts. If he suspected an unwelcome guest was on the property he would know to search. Otherwise unless he physically ran into you, Masky doubted that would be a problem. His eyes widened as he realized the last scenario, was undoubtedly the most realistic and the least preventable. “I followed you. I think it’s time to take things to the next level and-” You began, Masky roughly grabbing your arm and cutting you off. He yanked you into the clearing, bee lining straight for the house. “Ow! Masky what the hell?!” You hissed, The brunette angrily threw his cigarette on the lawn, stomping on it and trudging closer to the mansion. You began to try to pull away when he didn’t answer, this only angering him further. In a fit of rage he turned around, glaring down at you. “Do you have any idea what kind of danger you’re in by being here?” He seethed.

“Relax no one knows i’m here, it’s not like they can smell me,” You argued. Masky pulled you further, clenching his jaw. “Actually princess, they can,” He barked. He threw open the back kitchen door, looking around before dragging you inside. “You need to stay quiet, just stay behind me,” Masky whispered. He loosened his grip on your arm, slithering it down to your hand. You intertwined your fingers with his, allowing him to lead you further into the unsettling mansion. Masky peaked around the corner, Ben passed out on the living room couch with an open bag of doritos on his chest. “Who is that-” You began to whisper, Masky hissing at you to shush. You zipped your lips, trailing behind him as he led you up the stairs. Masky was acutely aware of how intense the situation was, his heart racing. Any creep could come home at any time, which would result in your untimely demise. You followed him down the seemingly endless hallway, looking around and noting the countless doors that lined each wall.

Masky yanked open his bedroom door, throwing you inside and shutting it quickly. He fiddled with the lock, dead bolting it before turning to you. “You need to listen to me very carefully, you are in grave danger being here,” Masky said as calmly as he could muster. You sarcastically chuckled, crossing your arms. “Oh cmon, what could your mafia friends possibly do to me?” You asked naively. Masky turned on his bedside lamp, illuminating the serious expression on his face as he took off his mask. “I am not in the goddamn mafia. I live amongst immortal serial killers that would tear your organs out if they knew you were here,” He rambled. He ran his fingers through his hair, his brain racking itself for a solution. “Masky if you don’t want us to be anything more than fuck buddies just say so don’t make up some elaborate lie,” You argued flatly. Masky turned to you, gripping your forearms. “Elaborate lie??? Are you fucking listening to me?” He hissed.

It was a loud knock on Masky’s door that interrupted your argument, the two of you looking over at the door in horror. “You weren’t lying were you?” You whispered. If Masky didn’t know who was at the door he would’ve rolled his eyes. “No I wasn’t now hide,” He whispered aggressively. You threw yourself around his bed, crawling underneath it. Dust buddies danced around your body as you tried to hold your breath, Masky opening the door. He wasn’t surprised to see Eyeless Jack standing outside. His mask hid his facial expression, making his presence ominous. “EJ!” Masky greeted, trying to not visibly sweat bullets. Jack didn’t move, standing completely still. “Masky,” He replied flatly. You itched your nose, the dust buddies violating your nostrils as you hid under the bed. You couldn’t see the horrific monster that was Eyeless Jack, hiding under the bed only allowing you to see his large boots. “What uh, what brings you here?” Masky asked as calmly as possible. Jack tilted his head to the side, his ears twitching. “I think we both know why i’m here Masky,” He said coldly.

Masky threw his hands up sarcastically, leaning on the bedroom door. “No not at all would you like to elaborate?” Masky asked. You cringed as you tried to itch your nose, the dust causing you to awkwardly try to put your sleeve over your face. It was then you couldn’t hold it back anymore. You sneezed, Masky trying his hardest not to turn around. “Did your bed just sneeze?” Jack asked. Masky grabbed Jack by his sleeve, dragging him inside of his bedroom. He shut the door. You awkwardly took it as you cue to crawl out from under the bed, meeting the assertive gazes of Jack and Masky. Jack extended his hand for you to take, helping you rise to your feet. You stared up at him in awe, visibly gawking at his overbearing height. “Do I want to ask?” Jack questioned. Masky awkwardly shuffled his weight on each leg. “Jack this is my girlfriend….” Masky said, his voice trailing off. With wide eyes you waved, Jack’s eye sockets narrowing under his mask.

“Bringing another human here with a loud ass heartbeat like that wasn’t the brightest idea,” Jack said. Masky ran his fingers through his hair anxiously, before digging in his pockets for a cigarette. “He can hear my heartbeat?” You whispered to Masky, who side eyed you before returning his attention to Jack. He sighed, finally finding a cigarette in his pocket. “Jack you do so much for me I need you to do me one final solid and help me transport her out of here alive,” Masky said. You looked back and forth between the two.

“Uh Mask that sounds just a little bit traffick-y if you know what I mean-”

The death glare he delivered demanded that you be quiet, but the two of you were awaiting Jack’s response. “What’s in it for me?” The demon asked, his large hands leaving his hoodie pockets. You couldn’t help but notice the dark ash color that seemed to be his skin tone, your heart pounding even faster. “Whatever you want Jack, seriously, i’m in your debt,” Masky rambled. Being in debt and/or owing a favor to anyone in the mansion was practically a death sentence, but he’d do anything for you. Jack looked over at you, causing you to stand more awkwardly. His gaze went up and down, scanning your body. Masky immediately picked up on what he was doing, clenching his jaw. “Nuh uh no way EJ, burn in hell,” He growled. He fumbled to find a lighter, finally locating one in his coat. “My seasonal heat is only a few days away. If I release appropriate steam beforehand perhaps I won’t accidentally terrorize Jane this year,” Jack fully proposed. Your mind swirled at the phrase ‘heat’, instantly trying to dissect the meaning. “So what? You want a threesome?” Masky questioned through gritted teeth. Jack sighed, watching the proxy scramble to light his cigarette. “Of course not, i’d expect you to watch. I don’t think you could keep up with my pacing,” Jack denied.

The realization of what was happening made your eyes widen, a chill running down your spine as you watched the two bicker. You loved Masky endlessly, but the sight of a giant demon requesting to have sex with you so formally was turning you on. Whether you wanted to admit it or not, you found yourself terrified but also aroused as to what such an unpredictable monster could do to you. Masky was rambling at this point, before Jack stopped him.

“She wants me.”

“What? EJ you’ve lost your goddamn mind-”

“I can smell her.”

The silence in the room was heavy as Masky’s gaze fell on you. “Really princess?” He asked. You watched him inhale his cigarette like he always did, something different crossing his eyes. Nodding, Masky then sighed. “Alright fine, whatever it takes to keep her alive. I’ll be in the corner watching though. Gotta make sure you won’t eat her,” Masky agreed. You watched him grab a wooden chair, pulling it and sitting on it in the corner of the room. His legs were spread as he slid his mask back on, hiding his facial expression as he watched you face Jack. “Uh hi,” You greeted awkwardly. Jack had a sinister grin curling up his lips under his mask as he looked down at you. “I’m not much of a talker, just let me know if things are too much for you, alright?” The demon asked. You nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed. Jack crawled on top of you, guiding you to lay on your back. Anxiously you closed your eyes, feeling him lift his mask to kiss your neck. He could feel the blood pumping through your veins, with each kiss, his own heart beginning to race.

Jack couldn’t recall the last time he had a mate during his heats and he planned on taking full advantage of the situation. And with you being a small human girl, he knew his plans would go very smoothly. It was easy to please a woman, he thought. He sucked and nipped at your skin, his razor sharp teeth grazing your skin. “If I see blood i’ll have your head EJ,” Masky interrupted, his voice cold and dripping with venom. Jack brought his large hands to your breast, ignoring Masky’s comment. He could smell your arousal becoming more apparent, the demon almost sure your panties were soaked by now. He palmed at your nipples through your shirt, quite frankly finding himself becoming impatient. Unfortunately though due to the size difference you’d need prep work. It was taking Jack everything in him to not bend you over in front of the proxy and fuck you senseless. He kissed down your stomach, relishing in the sight of your hips bucking upwards eagerly. “You can be loud you know, won’t bother me at all,” Jack hummed. You were sure your face was red, the embarrassment of his words and Masky’s endless stare humiliating you. “R-Right of course,” You swallowed, the demon’s long fingers looping through the hoops of your jeans.

In a swift motion he pulled them down, exposing your lacey pink panties. “How cute is this, did you wear these just for Masky?” Jack asked, his mischievous smile allowing you to see his rows of razor sharp teeth. You babbled an agreement, your hips bucking upwards with desperation. Goosebumps trailed across your skin as he began to pull your panties downwards with his teeth, the pointy ends tearing at the fabric. By the time it reached your ankles it was a pile of scraps, one Jack threw at Masky before nuzzling back in between your thighs. He ran two fingers up and down your slick, collecting your arousal before shoving it back inside of you. Jack’s fingers were much longer than your lovers, your back arching off of the bed once he curled them. “There we go, why don’t you relax and loosen up for me?” Jack purred. The feeling of your walls clinging to his digits were only making his cock harder, your thighs attempting to close as Jack unexpectedly began to ruthlessly finger fuck you. He didn’t bother going slow, knowing you were beyond eager to have him ruin you as a show for your pretty human boyfriend. Masky had already finished his first cigarette, going for a second one as his cock grew harder in his jeans. His pride refused to let him admit seeing you melt for a demon aroused him.

His fingers abused your g spot, his other large hand prying your thighs open and forcing you to take what he was giving you. You were seeing stars, your sinful moans surely loud enough for the mansions other residents to hear. “Awe, doesn’t that feel good human? So impossibly good?” Jack chuckled darkly, watching your thighs begin to tremble. You grabbed onto his wrist in an attempt to slow him down, unable to control your body from chasing its first orgasm. “Wow would you look at that. About to cum already? That must be some sort of world record, don’t you agree Masky?” Jack asked sarcastically, grinning as he pinned one of your thighs down onto the bed. Masky clenched his jaw, inhaling his cigarette as reached your first climax. Jack’s motions were not only rough but ruthless, finger fucking you through your orgasm as your vision turned white. You were palming at the sheets, Jack quick to rearrange you once you had rode out your high. You could barely process it as Jack put you on all fours, grabbing your ass and guiding it against his cock. Masky narrowed his eyes as you eagerly tried to wiggle your ass against Jack, desperate for him to get on with it.

Jack gripped at the mounds of your ass, spreading them open and examining your holes. “You sure did pick a pretty one Masky,” He complimented, your face flushing as you heard him unzip his pants. The demon teased you with the tip of his cock, your body stiffening. You had never seen nevertheless felt such a large cock, your anxiety rising as he collected your slick. “Arch your back human, give Masky a proper show,” Jack encouraged, pushing himself inside of you. Surprisingly it didn’t take long for the impossible stretch to become feasible, your walls milking Jack’s cock as he sank deeper into you. Along with this satisfaction came your moans, the demons name finally falling off of your tongue. The sound of that pushed Masky to the limit, the proxy flicking his cigarette to the side and rising from his chair. Angrily he grabbed a fistful of your hair, unzipping his jeans. “This wasn’t apart of the agreement,” Jack hummed, his cock buried inside of your cunt. He hadn’t moved yet, curious to see what the proxy would do. “I don’t give a shit. No girl of mine is gonna be moaning your name,” Masky huffed, shoving down his jeans and boxers.

The sight of your aching boyfriend’s cock made you roll out your tongue, your mouth practically watering at the sight of it. Masky was quick to stuff your mouth with his shaft, causing you to choke as he pushed you down further onto him. Jack took this as his cue to begin fucking you, his slender fingers digging into your ass as he snapped his hips into yours. You braced yourself as best as you could, Masky groaning as he shoved himself down your throat. “Dirty fuckin whore, gettin’ off to me and a demon ruining you? Pathetic,” Masky snarled. It infuriated him to see you enjoying Jack’s cock as much as you were, your body shaking with ecstasy as you were squished between both men. But something about the humiliation of seeing you enjoy it so much did something for the proxy, whether or not he wanted to admit it. He shoved himself further down your throat, watching you gag on his cock. Saliva dripped down the sides of your mouth, tears flooding your waterline. “You picked a fine mate. Is very easy to breed it seems,” Jack added, noting your walls fluttering around him as he spoke the statement. “Fuckin slut,” Masky growled, yanking forcefully at your hair and making you gag on his cock. Your moans were nothing but extra vibrations for Masky to enjoy, your ability to breathe delightfully restricted in the best way.

Jack’s thrust were merciless, the urge to breed you forever clouding his mind as he focused on the task at hand. Masky wanted nothing more than to see you suffer for his own pleasure, face fucking you as roughly as he possibly could. “You’re such a fuckin slut you’re gonna let a demon cum in you? Really? Stupid bitch,” Masky rambled, feeling his own high coming on. Jack’s fingers were leaving indented bruises on your ass, his cock abusing your cervix with each thrust as he pushed you further and further towards your boyfriend’s cock. You were on a mind numbing high, your body convulsing as you unexpectedly came again. You were too dazed to think, allowing your body to go slack and expecting both men to keep you upright. It wasn’t long before both men filled both of your holes. “Dont swallow my cum slut, stick out your tongue,” Masky barked. You did as instructed, smudged mascara and lipstick down your face. You could feel Jack’s warm cum fill up your womb, so much so extra semen was dripping down your cunt. The demon rounded the bed, joining Masky’s side as they stared at you. You were humiliated as their cum dropped down your tongue and abused cunt.

“What a filthy fuckin cum dump.”

“You seem to be right on that.”

“What’d you say we fill her up some more? She still has another hole to fill after all.”

[atlabeth]

(not so) simple pt 4 - anthony bridgerton

masterlist

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn’t.

a/n: SO. UM. once again this took fucking forever to come out which is kind of insane when you think about it because i've had 7000 words of this chapter written for like 4 months. truly wild. 2 babies have been born in the time that it's taken me to write this mini series but anyways there’s a lot happening here, shoutout to anthony for finally getting some more pov parts, the fun thing about your mc being out of commission for a while is that you have no choice but to write for the other characters. equality we love to see it. anyways most of it is angst, but it’ll all be wrapped up with a little regency romance bow i promise

wc: 7.6k

warning(s): aftermath of the end of last chapter which is angst. stab wound, talks of death, mentions of edmund's death, quite a bit of crying, anthony bridgerton's inner angst, miss worthing makes poor decisions. not a happy chapter but WHAT CAN YOU DO

“What were you thinking?” Violet demanded.

Anthony could barely hear his mother over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears, the pure terror gripping his heart. He’d no idea how to respond to her. He doubted she would like to hear that he, indeed, was very much not thinking. 

And he was certainly not thinking much now, what with you on the brink of death with their doctor and his apprentice the only thing there to stop you. He could be of no help to you, bent half over in his chair, head in his hands, the image of you collapsing burned into his mind. 

“Anthony Bridgerton, answer me.” Violet stood over him, her face flushed and eyes filled with anger and fear. “What were you thinking, bringing Miss Worthing out into the city?” 

“I cannot deal with your questions right now, Mother!” he snapped, something letting loose inside of him. Anthony would have been ashamed had he any sense. “My future wife is in that room fighting for her life, and it is because I was not able to protect her. I am hardly able to form words at the moment, Mother, so please—” Anthony’s voice broke, and he ran a shaky hand through his hair. “Please just be quiet.” 

It took a bit of nerve to be such an ass in front of his very own mother, but Anthony apparently had plenty of nerve at the moment. After you collapsed, he’d done the only thing he could think of in the moment and brought you back to Bridgerton House—it was closer than your residence, and if their physician had been able to keep his mother alive through eight pregnancies, then surely he could bring you back. 

Now, though, he was not so sure. Every other option seemed to be plaguing his mind, for your blood still stained his hands and his clothing and Anthony didn’t know if he would ever be able to get it off. 

His father died in his arms from something so small as a bee, and yet you had been stabbed. How were you meant to come back from that?

The door suddenly slammed open, and when Anthony glanced up, his insides twisted. 

“Where is she?” Eloise demanded. Her windblown hair matched the wild look in her eyes, and the flush of her cheeks and haggard breathing told him everything. She was meant to be promenading with Penelope Featherington—her speed on foot was admirable. 

“With our physician,” Violet responded. She seemed more subdued now, and though Anthony knew he would apologize profusely later, he could not find it in himself now. He could hardly find anything in himself apart from panic.

“With our physician—” She turned on Anthony, her gloved hands clenched into fists. “What in God’s name happened, Anthony?”

He allowed himself a moment to breathe before he responded. “She was stabbed.”

“Stabbed?” Eloise cried. “She was with you! How could she have been stabbed?”

“I was not with her when it happened—”

She scoffed. “That is a likely fucking story.”

“Eloise,” Violet said, “language.”

“I do not care about my language,” Eloise spat, gesturing wildly with her hands. “My best friend has been stabbed— I will say whatever I please!”

And then, as if to just add fuel to their fire, Benedict rushed in. Anthony held back a slightly unhinged laugh and shook his head. You were dying and they were out here arguing. 

“I’ve made sure this hallway is off limits like you said, Mother.” Benedict looked just as shaken as the rest of them, and in a strange way Anthony was grateful. You’d grown closer to his family than he’d known. “Your lady’s maid is outside the door alongside a footman ensuring privacy, and your driver is on route to the Worthing residence to alert her parents. They’ve all been sworn to secrecy—no one will be disturbed, least of all Miss Worthing.”

“Thank you, Benedict.” Violet sighed, and she collapsed into an armchair. “At least one of us is in order.”

Benedict sat down on the sofa, his words coming out in a mumble. “I am hardly in order.”

The fire seemed to have died down in Eloise, for however temporary a time, and she settled down next to Benedict. She leaned her head on his shoulder, and he wrapped an arm around her.

“She’ll be okay,” Eloise whispered, “right?”

No one answered for a moment. At last, Anthony looked up, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Yes,” he rasped, hoping with everything in him that his words would be true. “She will be okay.”

He would not have been able to live with any other outcome, not when it was his fault in the first place that you were in this position. 

Anthony didn’t know what he should have done, but he should have done something. He should have brought you to your senses and suggested a promenade in the park instead. He should have called on you at your estate, safe and sound in your drawing room. He should have been arm in arm with you, his heart steadily melting as you smiled and laughed and made him aware of all things good in the world. 

He could not lose you. Not when he still had so much to tell you, so many words left unsaid. 

Not when you didn’t know he loved you. 

“I’m sorry, Anthony.” He looked up at the sound of Eloise’s voice—though she did not look at him and her arms were still crossed, the sincerity of it was not lost on him. “I know it was not your fault.” 

His chest tightened. It was his fault. 

“You clearly care about her,” she said. “It is not fair to pin this on you.” 

“Sometimes we hurt the people we care about,” he said, his voice hollow. 

“Sometimes,” she agreed. “But not this time.” 

His eyes shimmered with unshed tears. Eloise had been at odds with him for nearly this entire season because of their ruse. Though she knew of its falsity, she still chastised him for taking up time that could have been spent with her, still rolled her eyes when he announced his leave to go see you, still questioned why he had to go after her best friend. 

But Eloise was driven by her emotions, no matter how red hot or icy cold they may have been. At this moment, her concern for you outweighed anything, and she recognized the same in him. 

So Anthony nodded. Once, twice, hardly moving but a clear acknowledgment. He glanced at his mother and brother, both unfocused with glassy eyes. His mother’s were red-rimmed, and she held a handkerchief tightly in one hand. The guilt hidden from earlier struck. 

He silently thanked their governess for keeping Gregory and Hyacinth occupied, thanked that Francesca was on an outing of her own. The last thing he needed was for his littlest siblings to find out that the woman they believed to soon be their sister was one misstep away from death. And thank God for Colin’s decision to spend the day with Mondrich—one of his younger brothers in the heat of the moment was enough. 

Anthony let out a shuddering sigh, screwing his eyes shut for a moment before he ran a hand through his hair then planted his palms on his knees. He could hardly sit still but he hadn’t the slightest idea of how to get his nervous energy out. 

All he could think of was you. Of how the last word you spoke was his name. Of your dried blood on his hands, staining his clothing where he had held you. Anthony barely kept you from hitting the ground when you collapsed, and he nearly did the same once he reached his residence. 

Yelling at any servant in the proximity to call for the physician, unaware of his mother trying to calm him until she shook him by the shoulders, having to literally be forced out of the room by the physician’s assistant once they arrived because he refused to leave your side.  

It all felt like a blur, and yet he remembered it perfectly. It all played on repeat in his mind no matter how much he tried to block it out. 

The door slammed open this time, and when Anthony looked up, he felt as if he could wither away.

“Where is my daughter?” Cecilia Worthing demanded, her husband trailing after her. She was all out of sorts, with an even wilder look in her eyes and a deathly grip on her skirts. Mr. Worthing’s expression made his heart sink, with his haunted eyes and taut lips. 

“I am so sorry, Cecilia,” Violet rasped, and she crossed the room and enveloped her in her arms. It took a moment for your mother to respond, but she returned the hug as a sob escaped her. 

“Your footman said she had been injured,” your father said levelly, though his voice shook ever so slightly. “How?”

“She was stabbed,” Anthony spoke up, forcing himself to look at your parents. “Some zealot in the city. I brought her here as quick as I could.”

“The city—” your father started.

“Stabbed?” your mother interrupted, halfway into hysterics. “How?”

“We got caught up in the midst of a riot,” he said quietly. “We were separated, and I assume it happened then.”

Mrs. Worthing let out another sob as she pulled her husband into her arms, and though he kept a semblance of solemnity as he whispered to his wife and held her close, Anthony could see the fear in his eyes. 

How could he possibly offer reassurance? It felt different, staring at the desperation of your parents. The horrific realization that they might leave a family of two, might have to bury their only child. 

His stomach twisted and Anthony’s head fell into his hands again. He couldn’t. 

Eventually, Philip helped his wife onto the couch, and she remained curled into his side. No one said a word—how could they?

Apart from whispered reassurances between your parents and even shorter conversations between Benedict and Eloise, their saddened group continued in silence for the better part of an hour. No one spoke louder than a whisper, no one rose and left—they just sat together in their fear, hoping and praying that the inevitable could be denied. 

Until the door creaked open and each of their heads snapped towards the noise. Anthony shot up at the first glimpse of their physician’s assistant. 

“What news?” he asked immediately. The tension in the room had grown to be near palpably thick. 

“The surgery went well,” the assistant said, and all the air dissipated from Anthony’s chest. “Miss Worthing lives. The doctor is ensuring a final few things, but provided our treatment is followed, we believe she will recover fully.”

Anthony fell back against the couch with a breathless laugh, and Mrs. Worthing sank against her husband, wrecked by thankful sobs. Eloise’s smile was enough to brighten the whole room, Benedict’s relief just as obvious. Violet just let out an exhausted sigh, her hand pressed to her heart. 

“Thank you,” your father said. “Can we see her?” 

“Miss Worthing is resting,” he said. “You will not be able to speak to—” 

“We do not care,” your father asserted. “I need to see that my daughter is still alive.” 

The physician’s assistant nodded after a moment, and the tension lessened in his shoulders. He helped your mother up, their hands clasped tightly together, and Mrs. Worthing looked at Anthony. You truly had your mother’s eyes. 

“Will you come with us, my lord?” she asked. 

“Oh, I—” 

“You are family,” she said softly. “You’ve a right to join us.”

Emotion swelled in Anthony’s chest, and it took a moment for words to come to him. 

“Of course,” he finally said, inclining his head. “And it is just Anthony between us. Please.” 

The slightest smile spread across her lips as she nodded, and they all stood up together. Anthony took her offered arm and they started down the hallway together, your father on her other side. 

How strange it was to be arm in arm with your mother. She thought the man beside her would be her future son-in-law, when he was truly nothing but a liar. 

No, he thought, not wholly a liar. Not anymore. Because they believed that Anthony was to be your husband. And if there was anything this had proven to him, it was that he wanted nothing more than for it to be true.

Anthony just had to figure out a way to tell you. How strange that it would be the most difficult part of this ruse. 

Violet’s maid and the footman stepped aside when they arrived and the assistant opened the door. Anthony followed your parents in, and his heart nearly stopped upon seeing you.

Your mother’s eyes filled with tears as she approached your bedside, and, after a nod from the doctor, brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear and laid the back of her hand against your forehead. 

“She’s burning up,” she whispered. 

“It is typical after surgery,” the doctor said. “With any luck, she will sweat it out. I will monitor her throughout.” 

Your mother nodded, a shaky sigh escaping her, and she took your hand. 

“I am so sorry, darling,” she whispered. “I am so sorry I was not there for you.” She brought your intertwined hands up and lightly kissed the back of your hand. “I love you more than anything. Please, come back to us soon.” 

Your father joined her, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I do not know if you can hear us,” he said, voice slightly shaky, “but we are here for you. We will be here when you awaken, and every moment onwards.” 

Mrs. Worthing looked back at Anthony, inclining her head towards you. Anthony swallowed his doubt as he moved forward, but the breath was stolen from him when he could fully see you. 

Your eyes were closed. Your chest rose and fell just so, hardly noticeable, thin linens provided by the doctor rested over you, and sweat beaded on your brow. Alongside the discoloration of your skin, you looked… 

You looked as if you were dead. 

And Anthony knew that you were not—for God’s sake, you were breathing—but all he could think about, all he could see, was his father, all those years ago, dying in front of him while he could not do a single thing to stop it. And he felt that same helplessness with you; just standing there, watching, unable to do anything but hope. 

“We are here for you,” he whispered. “...I am here for you. No matter what, I am here for you. Just know that, if nothing else.” 

Your mother’s watery smile made him look to the doctor for fear of the same emotions eliciting even further in him. 

“When will she wake?” Anthony asked. His voice sounded almost foreign to him. 

“In a few hours, with any luck,” the doctor said. “At the very most, it will be the end of the day.” 

“We will gladly host her until she is able enough,” Anthony said, looking at your parents. “And we have plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from if you wish to remain by her side during those days.” 

“Thank you, Anthony.” Your mother placed her hands on his shoulders, though she had to look up at him, and she smiled. “You make her so happy. It will be my greatest pleasure to officially welcome you into our family.” 

Anthony’s throat bobbed. God above, he hoped that was the truth. 

“Thank you,” he murmured. “She… she means a great deal to me.” 

“You’re a good man, Bridgerton,” your father said. “I’m thankful my daughter will end up with someone like you.” 

“Your approval means the world,” he said, and he found he meant it wholly. 

The doctor cleared his throat. “It would be best for her visitors to be limited as of now. The parents can stay, but…” 

Anthony nodded, smoothing his lapels. “Of course.” 

“We will alert you of anything,” your mother said. Anthony nodded again, and he allowed himself one more moment to look at you before he left. 

You were alright. You would be alright. That was all that mattered. 

Still, when he found himself alone in the hallway, finally able to breathe again, he still had that weight on his shoulders. 

A revelation such as the one he’d had should have been a blessing, a relief. A man in love was meant to be a happy one. But a man in love did not usually find his feelings in the midst of season-long ruse whilst his beloved fought on her deathbed.  

Anthony blew out a loose sigh, shaking his head as he continued through the halls. Being on his own, he found, was worse than sitting in silence with his family. He was trying to think of something to say, trying to gather his emotions and push them aside so he could be the man of the house as he was meant to be, but when he reached the room from before he was only met with Eloise. 

She looked up from the floor, and he noticed the puffiness of her eyes, her slightly blotchy skin. His heart sank yet again. 

“Benedict helped Mother to bed,” she explained, her throat bobbing. “All of this exhausted her. I’ve no idea where he is now.” 

Anthony nodded, his mind still wandering. “Ah.” 

“How is she?” Eloise asked, her brows knit in concern. 

“As well as she can be.” Anthony sighed. “She has a fever, but she’s resting. Her parents are with her and the doctor is watching over her. He said she should awaken before the end of the day.” 

The furrow softened as she smiled. It was good to see her smile. “Good. That— that’s good. I’m glad.” 

“And how are you, Eloise?” Anthony asked, folding his arms. 

“As well as I can be,” she responded wryly. Anthony’s lips twitched in a momentary smile, but she leaned against the couch and let out a sigh of her own. “This all certainly ended in the best way it could have.” 

“The best way would have been for it to have never happened,” he said. “I should have prevented it—I was meant to keep her safe.” 

“Brother,” she said wearily, “I already told you that you cannot blame yourself.” 

“And I’ve never been one for listening to you,” he said dryly, “have I?” 

Eloise huffed a laugh and shook her head. “I am not a fool, Anthony. I know what is happening between you two.” 

Anthony frowned. “Eloise—”

“You love her,” she said bluntly. “Do you not?” 

He tried to say something, but no words would follow. He could only stare at his sister and her nerve, resulting in a small smile from her. 

“You are not that talented an actor, brother,” she said. “It is easier for me to believe the two of you are truly in love than that you could actually trick me in such a way.” 

He blinked. “You believe she loves me?” 

Eloise laughed, turning her head slightly. “I do,” she said. “And seeing as you are not denying it, I believe that means you love her.” 

Anthony bit the inside of his cheek. So the two of you could fool the entirety of the ton for over half the season, but apparently not Eloise. How typical. 

He walked over and took a seat on the couch next to his sister, leaving a bit of space between them. He took a deep breath before he spoke. 

“I do.” He glanced at her. “I love her.” 

Saying it aloud—admitting the truth of feelings he’d been fighting for so long—brought him an unexpected lightness. One other person knew both truths: that they had been lying about their love, and that Anthony had been lying about his lies. 

It would have been laughable had he not been so unsure of everything else. 

It took Eloise a moment to say anything back. For a while, she merely looked at him, unreadable depths in her eyes. He didn’t think he would ever be able to fully decipher his sister. 

“I know my blessing means very little in the scheme of things,” she finally said. “But know that if this does come into fruition… I will support you two. Every step of the way.” 

The smile that spread across Anthony’s lips was brighter than anything he’d experienced today, and he inclined his head. “Truly?” 

“Yes, truly,” Eloise said, a smile of her own growing though she tried to hide it as she glanced away. “It is not a big deal. Do not make it out to be one. There are far worse men that she could end up with.” 

“Alright,” he said, unabashed in his joy. For such a solemn day, Eloise had turned his mood around. 

“And I will also keep your secret,” she said breezily, “again, so do not worry about that.” 

“You say it does not mean much,” Anthony said, “but you are wrong. Your support means more to me than you know.” 

She shifted, seemingly bolstered ever so slightly by his praise. “...I’m glad.” 

He smiled as he stood back up, smoothing out the wrinkles in his outfit. Anthony grimaced as his hands came into view. He was in dire need of a bath and some new clothes. He could not deal with your blood on him for much longer. 

“I must be going,” Anthony said. “I need to clean up. And,” he sighed, “ensure that none of this has spread to the rest of the ton.” 

Eloise hummed, and Anthony was nearly at the door when she spoke up again. 

“...Thank you. For being here for me.” 

His expression softened as he glanced back at her. “I will always be here for you.” 

Her lips curved just so. Anthony had never been so thankful to no longer be at odds with one of his siblings. 

-

Your head hurt. 

That was the first thing you could truly understand as your eyes slowly cracked open, squinting while you came to. You blinked a multitude of times, trying to regain your bearings and relieve the dryness of your eyes. 

It took another moment for them to adjust to the darkness—the curtains were closed, but no light filtered through. How long had you been asleep? 

You grimaced as you shifted ever so slightly, a dull but constant ache in your chest leaving you stiff, but there was a weight of a hand in yours. You glanced over and recognized your mother, asleep but still grasping your hand. 

You smiled. She came for you after all. 

But as you tried to shift further in the bed, you groaned, a sharp column of pain shooting through you. Your mother’s eyes shot open, her body starting from instinct, but it took a moment for her to truly realize it all. 

“Nice of you to wake up,” you said wryly. 

“You—” tears sprung in her eyes, and her lips spread in a grateful grin— “You must be alright if your first words are to antagonize your mother.” 

“I am still here,” you said. You didn’t want to tell her you didn’t think you would make it. That you thought your fate was sealed when you pulled your hand away to nothing but blood. 

“That you are,” she said breathily. “Are you alright, though? How do you feel? Does it hurt?” 

“I believe I am alright,” you responded, “I feel… tired. And my chest aches.” 

“The doctor said that would be expected,” she murmured. “What do you remember?” 

“...That depends,” you said. “What do you know?” 

Your mother gave you a look as she said your full name. “This is not the time for games.” 

Your cheeks heated and you averted your eyes. “I was in the city with Anthony. I was stabbed after a riot broke out. That is all I remember.” 

“Lord Bridgerton is the reason you are alive,” your mother said. “He brought you back to Bridgerton House, and their doctor saved your life.” 

Somehow it was possible for your face to burn even more. You dragged Anthony out to that meeting, and you repaid him by making him drag your near lifeless body all the way back to his estate. 

You were the worst fake fiancee a man could have. 

You felt your eyes begin to fill with tears and you rapidly blinked them away. 

“Where is he?” you asked quietly. “Where is Anth— Lord Bridgerton?” 

Your mother gave you a knowing look. “It is alright to call him by his name, darling. It is quite clear how much he cares for you.” 

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You could not do this. “Where is he?” 

“He is with his family,” she said. “You caused everyone quite a fright.” 

“I can imagine,” you said hollowly. 

“Would you like to see him?” she asked. “Because I am sure he—” 

“No.” The haste with which you sat up drew out another wince. “No— I…” 

You closed your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip. You could not do this. 

Your mother said your name softly. “What is it?” 

You opened your eyes, ignoring the wetness around them as you looked at her. “Anthony and I cannot marry.” 

She blinked. It looked as if it took a moment for your words to sink in. “What?” 

“We cannot marry,” you repeated. “We— we never could marry. Our courtship is a ruse.” 

Your mother blinked again, this time wholly taken aback. “What?” 

“It is a ruse,” you repeated, more forcefully. “I wanted to escape the baron, and Anthony wanted to escape a thousand desperate debutantes. I proposed a mock courtship between us, and he accepted.” 

Her brows furrowed deeper than ever before, as if she still couldn’t fully believe it. “You lied to me.” 

“To everyone,” you said. You hadn’t a clue what had gotten into you, tearing apart a story carefully crafted throughout nearly the entire season, but something burned inside of you. You couldn’t keep going with this—you couldn’t keep stringing Anthony along, not when your feelings were far more real than they had any right to be. 

“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

“Because I did not want to marry,” you repeated. “The baron is nothing more than a lecher, and the thought of any sort of marriage to him disgusted me, but you and Father refused to listen to me. The only way to get out of it was for you to believe I had caught the affections of someone better. Anthony Bridgerton’s word was certainly better than mine in the eyes of the ton.” 

Your mother stared at the floor for much longer than you anticipated, and you could not tear your eyes away from her. 

“Mother,” you said quietly, “say something. Please.” 

“I do not quite know what to say.” She finally looked at you, and your throat bobbed. “All of our plans have hinged on this marriage for the entirety of the season. What am I to tell your father?” 

“Do not tell him,” you begged. “Please. It is enough that you know— I could not handle the shame if he were to as well.” 

“I do not keep secrets as well as you,” your mother snapped. “Marrying into the Bridgerton family would have saved us, both in riches and name. Even your dowry would have gone to use for something of your choosing.” She shook her head, clasping her hands together.  “And now you have almost died and we will have to control this and I just—” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you interrupted. 

That ceased her arguments quite quickly. “What?” 

“I will marry Lord Cardew,” you repeated. “He has both riches and name.” 

Your mother frowned as she gripped your hands tighter. “You despise him. You got yourself into this entire mess in order to avoid him—you’ve said so yourself.” 

“What choice do I have?” you asked desperately. “His name is enough to weather the scandal I’ve created. His money will secure a life for you and Father, and he has a fine pedigree. It is the only way to save the Worthing name.” 

“Have you not considered the very man who has been courting you this season?” Your mother gestured with her hand. “Look where you are, darling! Lord Bridgerton has offered up his estate to us so we can be near you as you heal. Your courtship may have started as a ruse, but the man clearly feels something for you!” 

“We have become very good friends over the course of the season,” you said, “and I am thankful for it. But I cannot taint the Bridgerton name further.” 

“Dearest—”

“It is necessary,” you interrupted, but your quick movement brought on a sharp thread of pain in your chest and you winced. 

“Do not push yourself,” your mother whispered, and you nodded. 

“It is necessary,” you repeated, though slower. “My rebellion was just… naivete. I will not be the reason for our family’s ruin borne from my own stubbornness. I will secure our legacy, I will secure my future—I will marry Lord Cardew, and… and I will finally stop trying to resist my fate.” 

Your mother stared at you, and you stared back. “You said it yourself—our family’s well being hinges on my marrying into wealth. What sane man would consider me after what I’ve done?” 

She continued to look at you long and hard, her expression one of unreadable depths. “You are sure?” 

No, you wanted to say. You had never been less sure of anything in your life. But you could see no other choice. So you nodded. 

Your mother glanced away from you with a sigh, eyes searching the room for a moment before she nodded as well. “...Alright. If that is what you wish, your father and I will contact him once you are recovered.” 

“Mother—” 

“That is non-negotiable,” she said, and she smiled at you. “You may be blossoming into a true lady, but you are still my daughter. And I will not allow my daughter to do anything until she is fully healed.” 

You nodded. “Alright.” 

“I am sure that it goes without saying that you are never going to be allowed out of our sight until you are married and settled?” your mother said, and though it caused a sharp pain in your chest, you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“I assumed just as much, Mother.” 

-

Dearest Reader,

It is a fact well known throughout Mayfair that the social season requires the full attention of every single person, frantic mamas and bored bachelors alike. It is a game of wits unlike any other, and this season has proven no different. The middle of our merriment marks many of the most eligible debutantes as engaged — this author pays special attention to the season’s diamond, Lady Adelaida Kennington, who has found her happy ending with the young Earl Pembroke.

Though congratulations may be due to another lady of the ton, one of the simple yet highly discussed Worthing family — as it seems, Miss Worthing has tossed aside the much desired Viscount Bridgerton for the hand of the Baron Jonathan Cardew. One can only be left to wonder what Lord Bridgerton must have done to go from an obviously incoming proposal back to his rakish ways in little more than a night, but it most certainly has to do with Miss Worthing’s recent disappearance from society. Word has passed around of her frequent visits to the lesser parts of London, engaging in activity that can only be described as scandalous. Perhaps it was not the fault of the viscount indeed—Miss Worthing may have finally pushed Lord Bridgerton to his limits. 

No matter the reason for the ending of the courtship, this author must extend her thanks to the pairing for providing such material for my pen. It is not every day a nobody in the ton manages to bring down two families at once. Perhaps Miss Worthing deserves congratulations for conducting this fantastical feat all on her own. If it was outrage she was searching for, she has certainly earned it. 

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown 

You huffed a sigh and threw the leaflet across the room, letting your head fall back against the wooden headboard. It was one thing for Lady Whistledown to criticize you, it was another thing entirely for her to bring your family and the Bridgertons into it. You deserved everything that came towards you for what you had done, but your parents, the Bridgertons, Anthony— they were not a part of any of it. 

Especially when all your father had done was visit the Cardew estate to have a conversation with the man, see if he was open to the possibility of a marriage with you. Nothing was at all set in stone, but the way Whistledown told it, you were already steps from the chapel with a ring on your finger. 

So now, as if it weren’t enough that you were bed bound until your physician deemed you recovered for regular activity, as if it weren’t enough that you were likely set to be married by the end of the season, as if it weren’t enough that you were constantly denying Anthony’s requests to visit you, every single one of your idiotic mistakes was revealed to the ton through a woman too cowardly to write without a pseudonym. 

If you ever found Lady Whistledown, you thought bitterly, you would strangle her. 

The silence in your room was broken by the door opening, and when you looked up you were greeted with Julia’s face. The usual smile she bore when around you was not there, but before you could ask she answered your unspoken question. 

“I apologise for the interruption, my lady, but you have a visitor. He insisted on seeing you.” 

A small part of you knew who it was even before she stepped aside, but when Anthony Bridgerton walked into your room your breath still hitched the tiniest bit. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked immediately, holding back a grimace as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

“I had to see you,” Anthony said. 

“And you chose to do so by invading my privacy.” 

“I have not heard a single word directly from you nor your pen since the accident,” he said, his voice not without a slight barb. But underneath it all, an uncommon hurt festered inside of him. You could not see it, exactly, but you could sense it. “Forgive me for wanting to confirm with my own eyes that you were still alive.” 

“I will remain here as a chaperone,” Julia said, closing the door behind her. “You may talk as freely as you please — I will not repeat a single word.” Anthony nodded and pulled the stool away from the vanity so he could be closer to you, then sat down. 

Despite Julia’s reassurance, neither of you spoke a word. The silence began to weigh heavily, the tension growing so thick it could be cut with a knife. For so long you had been rejecting Anthony’s requested meetings, not wanting to see him after what you had done. You feared for how he would react, both to your complete ignorance of him after your nearly fatal injury and your acceptance of Lord Cardew’s courtship. 

You left Bridgerton House without a word mere hours after your ill-fated decision despite the protests of your parents—you could not stay there for another moment under Anthony’s good graces, not when you had doomed any possible future with him. You did not deserve a single millimeter of Bridgerton good will. 

You stared down at the covers you laid under, fidgeting with your hands in your lap as you focused on everything except your visitor. You could not bring yourself to meet Anthony’s gaze, though you’d felt his own on you for the past five minutes. 

“Is it true?” 

You finally looked up at his sudden question, meeting the intensity of those dark brown eyes you’d lost yourself in so many times. “Is what true?” 

“Your marriage to Jonathan Cardew,” he said stiffly. “Is it true?” 

Just as quickly, you glanced away. It was near impossible to even be in the same room as the viscount since you had made the decision, even more so to think of the reason why it was that way. So instead, you just nodded. 

“Yes. If all works out, we are to be wed at the end of the season.” 

“Why?” Anthony leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees as his hands clenched into loose fists. “You openly despise the man—you asked me to court you to avoid him. Why in the name of all things rational would you willingly enter a marriage with him?” 

“He will provide for me,” you said. “He has money, he has land, and he is a respectable member of society. He has already been content with the possibility of marriage once, and his name is enough to weather the scandal I have created. It is the smartest choice available.”

“And what of us?” He had an almost wild look in his eyes, and the worst desire took root in you to root your fingers in his hair and ease the troubles you’d caused him. “We have spent the near entirety of the season becoming closer, and you are willing to just throw it all away for a man like Cardew?” 

“I could not trap you in a marriage you do not want,” you insisted. “You deserve more than a woman you share no love for, Anthony, and to be married to the woman who made a fool of your entire family. Lord Cardew is the only option.”

“Even if all of that is true, that does not mean it is a smart choice!” he exclaimed. “He is not a safe man to be around! If he has been pursuing you so strongly and only backed off because of my influence, what do you think will happen when you are his legal wife with no sort of protection?” 

You swallowed thickly at his words. “He is not that sort of man, Anthony. He may be… horrid, and a complete egoist, but it will be a life of comfort. And that is the life that I need.” 

Anthony laughed breathlessly, completely devoid of mirth as he frowned. “You cannot be serious. I have been by your side for an entire season of feminist rants and marriage complaints, half of which revolved around Cardew himself, and now you are telling me that you are just— just alright with this sort of compliance?” 

“Nearly dying because of my own idiotic choices has forced me to reexamine my life,” you said plainly. “If I had been even the slightest bit unlucky, I would have perished on those streets, and what would I have had to show for myself? A rebellion that I was only able to take part in because of the privilege I so often fought against?” 

“You have made a difference,” Anthony insisted. “You provided for women that no one has the gall to look out for. You’ve spoken out for your own rights, you’ve stood up for your own interests rather than sit around and take what you have been given.”

“I have been fighting against a life that so many less fortunate than myself would kill for,” you said. “I believed death to be a better fate than being forced to marry a man I did not love, but when I was on death’s door, I realized how foolish I was— how utterly selfish.” 

“You are not selfish,” Anthony said, but you shook your head. 

“I am. Unbelievably so.” You huffed a mirthless laugh as you looked at him. “My parents did not love each other when they married, but they were friends. They could tolerate the other’s presence, and neither of them were fortunate enough to be able to care about anything else. They have grown to love each other in their own way, of course, and they are in a better situation now, but they could not have known it would turn out that way. They did what they had to for the sake of their families and themselves, and it is time I do the same.” 

“Love matches are rare,” you murmured. “And even if I were granted the opportunity… I would not deserve it.”

Anthony shook his head. “Do not say that.” 

“It is the truth,” you said, letting out yet another humorless laugh. “I have been horrible to my mother when all she has ever wanted is a better life for me than she had. I have fought her for every step of the way for no other reason than my hubris and the dim belief that I deserved different than everyone else simply because I wanted it, no matter what the greater good was. How can that not be selfish, Anthony?” 

“You do not have to do this,” he insisted. “You said you dreamed of unmarried life! You told me your fantasies of escaping from society, of living on your own and depending on no one but yourself. You are willing to give all of that up, just like that?”

“I was a fool for ever doing so!” you exclaimed. “Anthony, this world is hard enough on its own for married women — what do you think will become of my family if I do not marry? What do you think will become of me?”

“But you are strong.” Anthony leaned forward, his brow knit in determination. “You are strong, and intelligent, and fully capable of managing on your own. Spinster brand be damned, if it is what you wish, you will flourish completely!”

“Will I?” you questioned, and you gestured at yourself. “I am bound to this room of my own doing because I refused to see the truth of the world around me. I was young and naive to believe I could achieve anything of the sort I dreamed of without consequences, and I will be naive no longer.”

“If you insist on marrying, at least find somebody else,” Anthony begged. “You will be miserable for the rest of your life if you marry Jonathan Cardew.” 

“I cannot afford to marry for love, my lord,” you said simply, “and even if I could find a man who loved me, I could never love them back. I would not force anyone into a marriage they did not want, not when…” You trailed off, the words catching in your throat.

You shook your head, choking them down. “It is not important.”

“Please do not marry him,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, “I beg of you.” 

“Then who should I marry?” you asked, almost brazenly. “Who should I marry, if not him? I am certainly not one for options.”

You did not know what you wanted Anthony to say. To marry him? That he felt the same for you as you did for him? That, while you were indeed a fool for falling for him, he was one as well. That he would not leave you, not now, nor ever. 

But instead he just stared at you with those dark brown eyes that even now could make you melt, a million emotions brewing inside of them yet none of them being given an outlet. 

“I do not know,” he murmured, and your heart sank. “But I beg of you, do not let it be him.”

“It is not your decision to make,” you said quietly. “Soon I will be engaged to Lord Cardew, and I will be out of your life.”

There was an underlying desperation in Anthony’s eyes as he looked at you now, that storm of emotions thundering inside of him begging to be expressed. “I do not want you out of my life.”

The words felt like poison leaving your lips. “You do not have a choice.” 

Before Anthony could protest any further, you stood up and looked over at your lady’s maid. “Please escort Lord Bridgerton outside. I wish to be alone.” 

“My lady, are you—” 

“Julia,” you said, your voice strained, “please.” 

She nodded and she gestured for Anthony towards the door, but he did not move a centimeter.

Anthony said your name with such pain that you could not even stand to look at him, the inside of your lip drawn so tightly between your teeth that you could taste blood all in the effort to prevent tears from emerging.

“Do not make this harder than it has to be,” you whispered. “I beg of you, Anthony.”

“Lord Bridgerton,” Julia said quietly, “please obey my lady’s wishes.”

He stared at you with desperation before he finally nodded and walked out the door, Julia closing it behind him. 

You screwed your eyes shut as you dug the heels of your palms into your forehead, letting out a frustrated sob as your hands dropped back down. The pinpricks of tears were already starting, and while you were thankful you were alone, you already longed for Anthony’s presence. 

You wished, more than ever, that things could be how they used to be. You wished you’d never even made this ridiculous deal with him—then you would not be in such pain, yearning for a man you could never have while the reputation of you and your family was destroyed and your life fell to pieces around you. You could not do a single thing about it, and you could not blame a single soul for it other than yourself. 

You’d never felt so useless.

-

taglist, only bc this series has been going on since i still had a taglist lmao. pls dont ask to be added because i do not do tag lists anymore!! follow me or rb the masterlist or something idk @ifilwtmfc @readers-post @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan @magical-spit @lafy-taffy @miss-celestial-being @mercurysrhapsody @evilsailorsenshi @mainstreambitchlife @aangsupremacy @chloepluto1306 @lostaudfound @panhoeofmanyfandoms @blhemmings @my-acrylic-heart @seninjakitey @vlodi @arianagrandes-things @preciousbabypeter @youraliendaddo @stupidlittlebei @illuminwtesz @eringaitskill @otheliesstuff @users09 @chloepluto1306 @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @m-rae23 @the-horror-and-the-wild-simp @diemdurantia @theyoungestchild0w0 @mschievousx @alwaysreading1019 @ibelieveindragons141 @pretzywetzy

[radio-fmm]

Dear Luffy

Luffy x fem!reader

2k words, sfw

Sanji finds out about your crush on Luffy, would he be able to keep the secret?

Masterlist | Pt. 2

Sanji’s heart dropped to the depths of his stomach as he stood still in the middle of your room, a piece of paper in his hands

Truth was he didn’t wanted to be in this position, as incriminating as it looked

You had lost your glasses that morning. You had been looking everywhere but to no avail, the task becoming quite difficult without them too. Of course Sanji being the gentleman he is, offered to help you look starting with your bedroom

Big mistake

His eyes bore at the letter in his hands that had wrinkled under his unrelenting hold. Luffy’s name spelled at the top with dear attached to it with your handwriting makes his eyes drop out of his skull

You like Luffy?

Of course you do, Sanji then recalls all those times you decided to stay up later to accompany him on his night watches so he ‘wouldn’t fall asleep’ face beaming. How you were always, without a doubt, the first to jump on his crazy ideas and adventures. All of the times he had catch you sneaking around the kitchen late at night, only to then find out that Luffy send you for snacks for him to eat knowing he wasn’t allowed. That look of adoration he’ll catch in your eyes when looking up at your Captain

It was unmistakable

“Sanji! I found them!” - Your voice echoed trough the hallway and the cook curses, without missing any more seconds he hides the letter on its rightful place under your pillow and drops to his knees, hopefully he’ll look as if he was innocently searching under your bed he didn’t

The sound of the doorknob followed by his name makes the blood rush to his ears, heart thrumming in his chest as he prays he can meet your eyes like a normal person, trying not to think about the huge secret he just read about

“Thank god my darling!” He gets up at the speed of light, he’s surprised he didn’t passed out from the harsh movement

Immediately you feel something is wrong

Sanji stands in the middle of your room, eyes darting in every direction, clammy hands fiddling with his cigarette, a nervous smile on his features

“Are you ok San-“

“Fantastic! Why wouldn’t I be?-“ Slowly and desperately, the blonde makes his way out of your room, fumbling every step and almost falling along with your dresser that was tucked on the corner of the place -“Anyway, I gotta go back to the kitchen, dinner won’t cook itself!”

Finally he reaches the handle and disappears, his heart pounding and mouth dry

“Nami was right, he’s kinda weird…”

Shit shit shit, he feelt dirty, invading a ladys privacy like that? Unforgivable. What panicked him the most tho, was not what he knew or how he found out, no no no

It was the fact that he knows he won’t be able to shut his mouth about it. Sanji is a bad liar, specially lying to beautiful ladies, and as it turns, there’s 2 very much noisy ladies aboard The Sunny

Shit

His mind in a reverie, shaky slender fingers scavenging for another cigarette as he made a bee-line to the kitchen

“Mr. cook” Robins calls, echoing trough Sanji’s head, a shiver running down his spine as he looks up to her, head resting on her palm, prying eyes examining his every move

“Oh! Tigress, didn’t see you there” he fakes a smile as better as he can, hoping she wouldn’t ask any questions

“Did y/n find her glasses?” There’s a squint, very small and almost undetectable when she mentions you, waiting for a reaction from the poor blonde cook

He sweats, heavily “Ah yes! She did” a painfully fake giggle scapes his mouth along with the smoke he was keeping in. They both stare at each other, as if waiting for someone to do or say anything… after a while Sanji excuses himself to the kitchen, knowing he’ll be safe once he steps in

Very loud, very incorrect buzzer

His relief is short lived as he enters the kitchen and he catches a glimpse of Nami. She was working on some maps, ponytail and glasses on sketching the day away. Sanji’s blood runs cold

You see, there’s a difference between being questioned by Robin and being questioned by Nami, the latter lacking as certain touch when it comes to her words… and being the queen of noisy

“Nami swan” he drags the last word as in disbelief, she has never in the time they had sailed, worked on her maps in any other place that isn’t her office

The navigator’s head snaps. Completely unaware of the panic petrifying him at the entrance “Oh hey Sanji! The sun hits the kitchen at this hour, better light” she points to her work before getting back to it

Surely he could make it right? Cook for the whole crew without spilling a syllable of what he had read, sounds easy enough

Again, very loud incorrect buzzer

“LUFFY?” Nami’s voice echoes trough the walls, her maps long forgotten as the poor poor cook stood mortified in front of the half cubed vegetables for the soup he was planning to do

Turns out the navigator was far more preceptive than he thought. Sanji was reciting every single detail of what happened within 30 minutes of him just smoking like a psycho and cutting vegetables in terrible cubes

“You can’t tell anyone! She would never forgive me for accidentally snooping around” he begs, resuming his meal prep

“Whatever, that’s not the important part! We have to do something with this” she presses the matter with wide eyes

“No”

“Yes!”

“Darling we-“

“We should what?” Both of the very loud crewmates remain frozen, eyes wide and mouth agape as the Captain himself stands at the door, nostrils open as he takes in the aroma of the soon to be dinner, behind him walks Robin, a sly smile on her lips

Silence, deafening silence

“What were you talking about?” Of course the archeologists pushes the matter, already knowing something was stewing between the two

“Nothing” both culprits answer as they resume their individual tasks that had been forgotten

Robin is no fool, she notices how both steal panicked glances at her Captain who is just completely lost on the dinner cooking up in front of him to notice. How Sanji, the best cook she had ever had the chance to encounter is messing up steps as he fights to make the soup. How Nami kept re drawing the same set of mountains on the map

The tension was no joke

“Captain, did Mr. Shooter showed you the impressive fish he caught this morning?” Luffy brightens at Robins words

“WHAT? I have to see it! Bet it would taste delicious!” In a blink, Luffy has left the kitchen enticing a relieved sigh from the cook that does not go amiss for anyone

“You two are going to tell me what’s going on”

That damn soup was taking way too long, Luffy was bouncing up and down impatiently, stomach loud with hunger. You being the good friend that you are decided to try and get a snack, maybe a little flutter from your eyelashes would get Sanji to budge and let you take something before dinner. The Sunny was rarely quiet, the sound of the oceans waves crashing on the ship a sweet melody that had you skipping happily. As you neared the kitchen, you stopped in your tracks as a set of voices reached your ears, was there a meeting or something? Weird, Sanji doesn’t like a lot of people around when he’s cooking

Curiosity got the cat, you rest your ear flat against the door trying to make out the conversation behind it

“… a letter… it was an accident… she really likes him… he has no idea… you know how Luffy is…”

Oh

A surprised gasp leaves your mouth before you can catch it, hands run to your mouth as you stay put before the door, brain scrambled as it glues the pieces together

Someone found your love letter

The sound of heavy heels approaching the door takes you out of your daze as you scurry away like a cat, running away from the inevitable. You hear Nami call your name but the embarrassment doesn’t allow you to turn as you scape to your room

Closing the door behind you with a loud tud, you run to your bed and find the letter under your silky pillow, your face turning red as you imagine one of your crewmates reading your words. You can hear your heart in your ears before you reap the letter, the sound deafening on your quiet bedroom. How pathetic you felt, like a spec of dust on a shelve with your feelings in your throat

Of course you were a no show for dinner, worried faces on Sanji, Nami and Robin who decided to leave you alone, the damage already done they didn’t wanted to pester you any more than they already had

You were a very shy person when it came to this kind of things, which was funny considering you were usually a very confident and outspoken person, but feelings? they were too much for you, opting by writing them down which you now see as probably a bad habit. You curse for the millionth time staring up at the ceiling in hopes the ocean would leak in and take you away, spitting you on the other side of the world. A couple of nocks on your door stop your train of thought, you don’t answer making the person on the other side impatient, so they opt to just open your door

Luffy stares at you for a moment as so do you, he didn’t know what was happening thank god

“Are you ok? You didn’t came down for dinner” something Luffy didn’t joked about was food that’s for sure

“Yeah I’m… just a little tired”

He grimaces, a rare look on the strawhat boy it makes you wince

“But you need to eat” he retorts

“I’ll eat later Luf, don’t worry”

He stares again, big chocolate eyes looking you up and down, a contemplative hmm vibrating from his chest. You remain frozen, still too embarrassed to even meet his eyes for more than 5 seconds

“You know you can tell me anything right?” Luffy had this amazing ability of always finding the correct words, your face falls and you swear your pulse had accelerated enough to be audible. You sit with his statement, and you feel troubled. Of course he’s right as he always is, it makes you feel stupid to even think about being embarrassed about having feelings, but you steal a glance at his face and the red in your cheeks remind you why are you feeling so mortified

Remind you how dear he is to you

You would hate yourself forever if you were to ever ruin this, this friendship and trust with your Captain. You value that above all else even if it means hiding during meals

“Yes, of course Luf” you smile, a hurtful kind of smile that makes the rubber boy grimace even more

“I can eat with you if you want”

“I said I am tired”

“Yeah but like, if you are up for it later” his genuine concern bends your will, not being honest to him burns like acid

“I’ll let you know if I go to the kitchen”

Finally Luffy gives you the most beautiful bright honest smile, then he just disappears

This whole situation was so stupid, why were you embarrassed about feeling feelings? How dumb. If someone would’ve told you how difficult it would be to deal with love at sea, maybe you would’ve thought a little more about becoming a full time pirate

Of course you went down to eat your dinner later that day, of course Sanji happily warmed it up fro you and of course Luffy joined you

And of course he ate half of it

Pt.2

[2-dsimp]

《The smutty hitman chronicles》

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→【The Hacker: Milkies?】

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Cw: 🔞NSFW MDNI🔞Fem reader! throatpie, deep throating, praise, overstimulation, mention of lactation, breeding, and impregnation.

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『Yandere! Hacker that’s always spontaneous in everything he does. Whether it be from wrecking enemy databases or just casually trolling people online to pass the time. His unpredictable nature shines true in any setting he’s in.』

『Yandere! Hacker who’s the definition of an orange cat boyfriend. Always unhinged and in general an overly affectionate bundle of jittery joy when it comes to his loving darling.』

『Yandere! Hacker who loves everything about you from head to toe and is fascinated time and time again by your body anatomy. Reason why he’s got his hands on you 24/7 and due to his boundless obsession and curiosity. As to how you function on a daily basis being so soft and squishy compared to his lithe and hardened form. Regardless, You’re always kept on your toes whenever you’re in close quarters with the clingy fiend.』

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“Yujin, honey, are you alright? You’re spacing out again.”

『You hummed in an amused tone as you looked from beneath your lashes. To see your hacker boyfriend eyeing you with an intense glint in his sharp feline eyes that were up to no good. You jolted slightly when you felt him abruptly shove his hands down your crop top to greedily cup both of your jiggling boobs. Giving them a good hard knead.』

“Yeah, uh huh I’m fine babes it’s just—Wow! Your tits are so heavy and perky! So perfect to suck on…”

『Yujin drawled, dumbly in pure admiration as he went on to pinch and tweak at both of your nipples like they were joysticks. All the while his fleshy tip lightly dragged against your lips and chin smearing precum all over your face. As you were on your knees fondling his hairless balls and jerking off his pulsating shaft.』

“I read somewhere that mentioned how woman could lactate. Is that true? Of so, can you make that happen like right now, pretty please? I really wanna start milking you plus I’m thirsty.”

『He begged needily as he was completely fixated on your enticing mounds. Which had him utterly whipped at the thought of seeing milk dribble out those puffy areolas. That Yujin adored and revered to be the cutest thing of all. All the while he let out a throaty purr from how you started to lavish your wet tongue on his cockhead coaxing his salty sweet pre straight from the tap』

“Jin, listen I’d have to get pregnant in order to lactate. I can’t just do it at will on my own. It doesn't really work that way hon”

『You explained gently from how oblivious the 20 year old lynx hybrid sounded. Remembering how Yujin admitted that he didn’t have any definitive knowledge on the birds in the bees. Since he was raised in a very sheltered environment for most of his upbringing by strict caregivers.』

“Oh really? Well that's an easy fix! I could easily knock you up if that's what it takes baby cakes! All I gotta do is make sure to cram my spunk in every cute little hole you've got right?”

『Yujin chimed with a fanged lopsided grin and before you could even correct him with the right terminology. He suddenly thrusted his hips, forcing his thick cock deep into your mouth with each drawback of his pelvis.』

“Now that I think about it, I guess creaming your lovely throat would be good for starters~ you’d love that huh baby? I can just tell from from the way that sweet pussy is dripping all over the carpet~”

『He cooed lovingly, staring down at you while meanly squeezing your cheeks to get a close up at his dick. That was stretching open those plump lips that he fantasized kissing for all eternity. You were gripping his thighs for life support trying not to choke』

『As Yujin became Hellbent on pumping your throat full of his jizz to help fulfill his agenda. Of turning you into his lovely milk dispenser so that he’d be able to suckle on your swollen breasts. And admire his litter growing inside of your tummy for hours on end whenever he's slaving away in his room full of monitors and PCs.』

“Oh fuck, I think imma cum soon! You’re doing so good for me, so fucking good! just like I knew my pretty girl would. I swear Imma take the best care of you, make sure that my mate never goes in need of anything”

『He babbled, drooling from the tightness of your esophagus closing in on his throbbing meat. In tandem with how you squeezed his family jewels that were bloated with semen ready to make its home inside of you. And It doesn’t take long before Yujin goes completely ridgid tangling his clawed fingers in your scalp to further plant his crotch right against your face.』

『You could only process a deep hiss escaping your lover as your mouth was filled with nothing but his thick warm seed. He held your head in place and forcing you to savor every last drop of his cum that marinated your tastebuds. Yujin whined softly in protest at the thought of pulling away too soon.』

『The Hacker almost didn’t wanna pull out of your heavenly jaws at all but he still had his quota to fill. So with great reluctance he pulled out and look down at you with satisfaction. Brandishing a smile full of childlike chagrin as he sent you clutching for your pearls with his daunting words. Which hinted at the fact that you weren’t getting any sleep tonight.』

“Welp that’s one hole down baby only two more to go~ but this time I’mma fill ya up more than once since I gotta make sure that it all sticks mkay?”

[theartofwoompwoomps]

You do what now?…

Various Transformers x human!reader

Summary: we spoke about us receiving aggressive affection, but what about us doing the same.

——————————————————————

Knockout definitely won’t let you even think about biting him. He just got polished. He’s going to make sure you don’t even get near him the second he sees that glint in your eye.

He was cuddling with you as he rambled on about his day. Moments like these brought him so much peace. But clearly, it seemed you had another definition of peace.

Your head lowered a bit towards his arm. He wouldn’t thought anything if not for the way you seemed to hesitate opening your mouth. Your lips were pursed and your full attention on his paint.

His own instincts acted before you, quickly pushing you away as he threw a tiny pillow on top of you and ran.

“Awww knockout ! I wasn’t even gonna do nothing !” He could hear your voice in the distance but he wasn’t taking any chances, knowing you were now in a game of hide-in-seek. If he wasn’t careful your small mouth would definitely bit him if he’s not aware.

Optimus would be surprised to say the least.  Never once knowing humans did such a thing to others. Especially not their significant others. He’d probably ask the reason for your actions, mistaking it for an act of anger towards him.

One second he was holding you, the next he was looking down as you had your mouth on his digit. 

He didn’t move. Just watching as you a bit him. The thing was, you weren’t chomping or taking many bites. You simply bit him once and didn’t let go. He didn’t feel you put pressure on the bit, so you weren’t attacking him.

Then what were you doing? you didn’t even look up when you let go. Perplexed he wondered why’d you grabbed his attention only for you to ignore him.

Maybe it was a way to show you were upset? But it didn’t make sense, when he called out to you about it you weren’t upset. It was an act,… of affection

Honestly he didn’t understand but it made you happy so he just let you continue on.

Bee would probably encourage your aggressive behavior towards him. Letting you run into him and start random play fights while ofc always letting you win.

Bee was just walking around base. He didn’t really have anything planned. He was about to head back towards his quarters when he heard fast steps behind him.

As he turned around, he saw that you had jumped off the shelf road set for humans. Your smile wides as launched straight for him.

Stretching towards you to catch your small body, you randomly pulled a pillow from nowhere and threw it straight to his face. He fell and you landed on him. Giving him a quick peck before taking off. Hearing your voice quite far yelling a quick, “Love ya babe !”

Still on the ground he just let a small beep that sounded a lot like a sigh. He was totally gonna get you back for this.

Soundwave is always dumbfounded by your impulses. Mainly since you act before thinking a lot of the times. Causing him to not being able to know your next move. And since your cuteness aggression is always spontaneous he never predicts it.

You were on his berth with him. While he was desperately trying to hold his mask onto his faceplate. It had broken during a battle and knockout had yet to be able to attend him. Thus leaving him in the sad state of holding it up wherever he went.

But he trusted you. And he was tired from holding it the whole day. Lowering his mask he hears a small gasp from you. 

Feeling as a bunch of thoughts rush through you, he mainly notices your curiosity.

Lowering his face as he hands you his mask. You take it eagerly, your own eyes analyzing it and tracing every dent and detail.

But it wasn’t until he had his face in front of you he felt it change in your thoughts.

Your eyes no longer focusing on his mask, rather all your attention on his lower half of his face. At first he could feel all your thoughts, but now your mind was rushing so fast to the point he wasn’t sure if you were even thinking at all.

Noticing your breath pick a bit of pace, he wasn’t expecting you to launch his mask far from him. Your eyes wide as you rushed to reach him. 

Still surprised from the loud noise of his mask crashing onto the floor, what brought his attention back was your small mouth on his. All your emotions pouring towards him, he honestly didn’t mind it a bit. 

Now this was one impulse of yours he liked.

Starscream would surely love your attention. No matter how strange it is. He’d probably show off and brag about your actions to other decepticons. It would get to the point that the others think he’s making it up, mainly since most of them don’t think humans have cuteness aggression.

Funny thing is, recently you’ve been noticing a lot of things about your seeker. You hadn’t noticed before, but his wings tend to be very expressive.

Thanks to your request you were given a datapad that acted a lot as an ipad for a kid. You’re favorite feature was the camera settings. Thanks to being small no one noticed that you recorded a lot of things. Especially Starscream. 

You had a bunch of videos and pics of him. Looking through them was definitely your favorite pastime.

As Starscream got closer he heard you speaking with lots of emotion. You were talking too fast and changing volume constantly that he couldn’t really understand what you were saying.

Peeking a bit he saw you watching something on the datapad he got you. You were laying down with your stomach to the surface as your feet kept swinging in the air. You were really focused on whatever you were watching.

He was going to continue watching you in silence until he heard you yell out, “Oh.My.God! Why is he soo hot !” 

You were ogling someone and he didn’t like it one bit. 

Barging in making his presence loud and clear, you turned quickly hiding the datapad. “oh heyy starscream. I hadn’t realized you were here.” Your voice laced with nerves he saw your face reddened as you tucked the pad deeper under the pillow.

Not responding he grabbed the datapad against your small protest, as he opened it up to see who exactly was winning your heart.

He wasn’t expecting to find an edit of him that you made. 

Now you were both flustered.

———————————————————————

Masterlist 

[colorlessjay]

Ok I love immortal Cas reincarnation Dean but also like what if it’s a reincarnation library? Like souls come in and Cas checks them in and returns them to the new shelf/life they belong to?

Cas is the librarian (it was some other angel but Cas just had too much heart so they stuck him where he could cause the least amount of trouble and turns out he’s really fucking good at it). His job is to guide souls to their next incarnation. One might think that it would get boring or he would hate staying in what amounts to heaven’s basement (like the other angel) but he doesn’t. The souls will sometimes tell him the stories of their last lives as he escorts them to the proper new section and he loves it (especially the bees who have wonderful description of flowers).

Then comes Dean. Cas knows right away that he’s NOT supposed to be here. Cas has gained the ability to see life lines, it’s how he knows where to place souls (past lifelines are gold future life lines are silver, it determines if you go in to become a tortoise, a mouse, a human, a butterfly, etc.) but Dean comes in and his lifeline is severed and green like his soul. Cas doesn’t know what to do. He thinks maybe it’s unfinished business so he has him reincarnate as a human but somehow every couple of years Dean comes back (he doesn’t remember much except that he trusts the blue eyed angel that always saves and cares for him) Cas is beside himself. No one from heaven ever comes to rectify the situation and the more times Dean shows up the more Cas talks to him and gets to know him, the more he falls in love. He shows Dean how he transfers the souls and how they become remade and whole in their new forms. He gets so desperate to see Dean’s soul the same way, he offers Dean any incarnation he wants. Dean innocently asks what incarnation would allow him to stay with Cas. Cas has to tell Dean he can’t stay. That’s not how it works. Dean is sad but asks to be reincarnated as a dog so he can watch over his brother. Cas let’s him even though the lifeline isn’t right, even though it’s breaking his own rules. It’s years until Dean returns and Cas doesn’t know if he’s happy or sad.

Anyway much anguish,angst, and reincarnations later Cas simply can’t bear to see Dean’s soul broken anymore (he’s tried everything, even breaking the rules again and waiting with Dean until his brother Sam dies and reincarnating them as brothers together) but nothing. Finally (after learning through many other souls like Bobby, Jody, Donna, Benny, etc.) that Dean’s soul has been cursed, marked by a god for eternal pain. It’s unbearable to see, torture to know that he will never be able to bring Dean the peace the beautiful soul deserves. Then a soul gives him the answer (Rowena) and he makes the ultimate sacrifice to break Dean’s curse. He gives him his wings. Dean is now free from the cycle of incarnation which means he will never return to Cas or the library and Cas has given up his wings so his sanctuary is now his lovely prison.

Only Dean starts dreaming. Starts remembering a place and blue eyes. Remembers a man. And if it’s the last thing he does, if he has to storm heaven itself: he’s going to find him one day.

He starts by sending messages with the dying (maybe he become a doctor or something because the closer he is to the boundary between life and death the closer he feels to the mystery man) he whispers in ears, sends notes in hands and sometimes he swears he’ll see a few more bees around him than normal, maybe some blue butterflies that aren’t native to the area and he doesn’t give up hope that there is a way to cross the veil back to Cas (and maybe Cas gets in trouble because the angels DEFINITELY take notice of a soul breaking free of the cycle that fuels heaven and they lobotomize him Ike they do in cannon, he doesn’t remember being in love with Dean but the old souls that have passed through and seen them together are the ones coming to Dean to give him hope)

So now Dean is remembering while Cas has forgotten and it’s just one complex and beautiful tragedy

Only. The god that Cas saved Dean from wants revenge. So he/she/they/it demand Cas is punished to forget and live a human life. Dean meets Cas and both know they are looking for someone they lost but neither know it’s each other (maybe they try not to fall in love with each other, still clinging to what they think they’ve lost and when they finally do give in they remember or something) except it’s not all happily ever after because remember that god that cursed Dean (Amara maybe)? Yeah it’s got a mortal vessel too and it’s determined to get Dean for itself

———

Oof sorry that was so long and if it doesn’t make sense, the idea got away from me as I was typing. Please ignore me if you hate it I just needed to get it out of my system somewhere 😅 I really love the other takes on this one too (the Epic/mythology parallels are awesome, 10/10)

Write a book, goddamn

Definitely not the direction my brain was going in but I fucking love it

Vibes. 10/10. Makes your own post about this and expand on it plsss

[arbitrarykiwi]

It's Just Business, Baby: Overtime 2/4

The Recruiter/The Salesman x Recruiter!Fem Reader Smut Series

Summary: he saw no reason why they would want to hire you. He did just fine at the job! The higher-ups were stupid for even bringing you onboard, you had to be a liability. You were a walking enigma, a witch! He hated every little thing you did. So when he tells himself he’s following you so he could always be a step ahead of you, he doesn’t understand why after each meeting he’s left wanting to see you more.

Warnings: smut (18+) , stalking , violence , blood, slapping (y’all play ddakji) , fingering , ruined orgasm , name calling (bitch, whore, slut) , he’s mean , he’s a warning in himself , read at your own risk

Other Chapters: Workplace Conflict 1/4 , After Hours 3/4 , Professional Provocation 4/4

((Additional chapters will be linked as they release))

He managed to make it three days without feeling a visceral rage inside him. And that was because he hadn’t seen you. Both of you were on an ‘off period’ for a couple days and you two were not needed for recruiting. He still hated you, he told himself he always would hate you, but without seeing that stupid little smirk you always have on his face, his homicidal tendencies were significantly decreased.

Since his mind was not wracked by the enraging visual that was your face and he couldn’t hear the permanent sarcastic tone in your voice, he had room to think about other things. He tried to do exactly that, and made out good for a while. He was able to think about other things that weren’t involving you, he picked up reading again, scouted out abandoned buildings, and cleaned his living space top to bottom- but after about he still thought about you.

Okay…he was mad again. He didn’t even have to be near you and you were still permanently stained in his imagination. He caught his thoughts wandering to you when he was cleaning off a knife in the kitchen sink on late night.

He had decided to have a little fun, going out and doing some personal recruiting. He found a sleazy man who stood outside of a club, watched the guy for a while and when he realized the man not only was harassing women but begging to place bets with people around- he knew he had a perfect in. He managed to guide the stranger to a back room of the club, spike his drink while the man was boasting about the horrible things he’s done- calling it ‘guy talk’- and tying him up. It was honestly coincidence that he also got a message to take out that exact man from the higher ups. He took his anger out on the guy to say the least, doing entirely too much for what was asked for by the front man, taking it slow and dragging it out until the sketchy man was nothing but a heap of blood and flesh in the alley.

As he was washing off his knives, eyes fixated on the red that flows down his hand and into the sink, rubbing away the dark crimson to reveal a sterling silver blade, he begins to think of you again. What did you do on your time off? Did you also get a target to take down tonight? Did you think of him on your days off??

He’s suddenly slamming the knife down into the sink and letting out a frustrated yell. His hand that’s clenching the edge of the kitchen sink is shaking, he’s trying to calm himself down- there’s no reason why you should be making him feel any sort of strong emotion, even if it is rage. And now he’s thinking about you like you’re some domestic girl who’s not a ruthless killer who’s just as psychotic as he was.

His hand is releasing the edge of the steel sink and clenching into a fist. In a fast paced swing his closed fist is connecting with the wooden cabinet in front of him. The wood cracks and splinters under the force and bites at his knuckles like thousands of bee stings. He pulls his hand out, skin scraping against rough wood. His hand is cut up, blood spilling across his pale skin. He huffs, chest heaving as he collect himself. It’s all your fault, he rationalizes. And you’d have to eventually pay for the torture you inflicted on him.

You two are called back into work the next day. Instantly he’s filled with the intense loathing when you step on to the same subway as him in the morning. It’s like you want to irritate him and push him to his limits (you do) because you deliberately push past multiple people to come and stand directly next to him. You’re standing impossibly close to him, your arms nearly touching.

His eye is twitching ever so slightly, the hand holding the metal rod in the middle of the subway car beginning to clench harder around the metal, his knuckles turning white. You’ve never been this close to him. In the three, going on four years he’s worked with you- you have always kept your distance, using it to aid in keeping your wall of mystery tall and indestructible.

He can smell you. It’s a sickly sweet scent that makes his cock twitch in the confines of his work slacks. It’s like you’re wearing some pheromones enhancer or something, at least that’s what he’s telling himself to rationalize how good you smell. You’re much smaller than him, the top of your head just barely passing his shoulder. You’re also dressed differently, gone is your suit, now replaced with a deep navy pinstripe vest, your pants matching. You’re wearing a blood red silk blouse underneath.

His mind is swimming, the deep rouge of the silk hugged your figure. You laugh to yourself softly, snapping him out of his trance, anger returning when he looks up to your face and sees you raising an eyebrow at him in an accusatory, mocking look. “You’re staring.” You simply say, “Hard.” You scoff.

“I doubt that’s in dress code.” He responds curtly, head snapping back forward. He doesn’t pay any mind to your comment nor does he deny it. “It is.” You hum, your head turning back forward as well. Your hands were clasped in front of you holding the handle of your brief case. He huffs to himself, though you can hear it. The corner of your mouth quirks up even more than normal, enjoying the small hints he lets off that you’re getting to him.

You’ll give him props. Anyone else who didn’t know his intricacies like you did wouldn’t be able to see how his grip is practically digging into the solid metal of the pole he holds on to as his anger rises, how the corner of his lips fight themselves not to twist in a grimace, how his jaw clenches as he grinds his teeth. But you? You could see it, and you lived for every moment of it. You loved angering him, loved breaking his eerie aura, and loved seeing how he slowly was losing his patience with you. You wanted to break him.

Soon your stop arrives and you’re leaving his side without another word, walking out the sliding doors of the subway car and stepping out onto the platform. A cloud of your perfume is left behind. When the subway departs again and he knows there’s no possible way you can see him- he’s keeling forward, his forehead resting on the cool metal of the pole and eyes twisting shut as he inhales deeply. Every breath he intakes that is tainted with your intoxicating scent brings even more blood to his cock. He’s fighting himself, trying to fight off the erection as he’s inhaling harder- like he’s trying to prove tomorrow himself the hard on he has is random and not because of you. But as your scent keeps filling his sinuses and his cock strains harder against his pants he’s reminded again just how much he hates you.

He goes about his day the best he can, though you plague his every thought. Yet again, he’s taking his anger out that he has toward you on his surroundings- and this time it just so happened to be the sorry soul who accepted his offer of playing ddakji. Each slap he deals out he’s imagining it’s you. He imagines what you’d look like, your cheek swollen and red with the imprint of his palm, your lips parted as squeaks and gasps come from your lips after each stinging slap. Ohhhh, he thinks, he bets you look so pretty crying.

As soon as the thought rings in his mind, he’s winding back yet another vicious slap. It nearly knocks the man over. He hurriedly ends the game, passes off the card with the number and disappearing off into the subway tunnels. Why the fuck was he thinking of you like that? He hardly ever drinks but all he wants now is to go home, knock back a few drinks and go to bed and drift into a dreamless sleep. He was so glad he was done for the day.

He finds himself standing in an empty subway, waiting for the late train to take him back to his original stop. Times like these, when he’s alone and able to listen to the sounds of the night, are his favorite. He can hear the wind whistle down the subway tunnel, pipes and wires clicking and tapping above his head are his favorite times. It’s all the normal rhythm of the subway at night, a melodic symphony of metal and copper. Each sound he has memorized allowing him to notice if any little thing is off within the subway’s walls.

Then he hears something out of the ordinary, a new rhythmic clicking. It’s coming from the stairs. He listens harder, body becoming tense as he try’s to discern what this new sound is. Maybe it’s water dripping onto the tile stairs? No, he knows that sound and it definitely wasn’t that. Heels walking down the stairs? Now that’s it!

His head whips to the left to stare at the tiled stairs that lead up to the street. His eyes are narrowed, staring at the stares like it would stop whoever it was from coming down the stairs. But it doesn’t. And when he sees a pair of black heels come down the stairs, accompanied by black pinstripe pants, he finds himself practically huffing like an angered dog.

He’s hoping it isn’t you, he’s hoping that maybe some other late night traveler is wearing the same outfit he knows you’re wearing. But when you make your down the steps, your face coming into view- he is met with the awful realization that it is you coming down the subway stairs.

You’re smirking like you planned this, like you somehow delayed the train he was supposed to get on and timed it just right to come down those stairs when now one else was in the subway. He’s glaring at you like he wants to kill you, torture you, but you can’t deny how much more attractive it makes him. He still has his resting smile on his face but his eyes were burning with an intense rage that only made your clothes begin to feel impossibly tighter.

You step down the stairs with conviction, stepping onto the subway platform and immediately making your way over to him. Like earlier in the day, you stand next to him- nearly shoulder to shoulder. His senses are overflowed with the smell of you. His body is hotter than the deepest ring of hell, sweat is beading on his forehead as he fights himself to keep looking forward. He can’t stand to look at you right now.

“Shame the train’s late.” You say with a mocking pout in your voice. His hands curl tighter around the briefcase handle when he hears your voice. His mind is flooded with the idea of what it would sound like broken and out of breath. “Was hoping to get home on time.”

It’s weird to hear you speak to him so much recently, I mean he’s gone three years with hardly hearing your voice and now you seem to be chatting with him like you two are normal co-workers; and that you two were definitely not. And now you’re even talking about like outside of work?? It was weird. He never thought about you outside of work, but these past few days he can’t help but to imagine you outside of this job.

What did you wear to sleep? Did you sleep naked? He inwardly groans when the idea pops into your head. The image of your naked form begging to conceptualize in his mind, he’s sucking in a heavy breath and reaching a hand up to wipe the sweat that beads on his hair line.

He fucking hates that you catch it, that you can notice the little intricacies of his movements. He can see the rise and fall of your chest as you silently laugh to yourself when you notice his movements. He’s gritting his teeth, trying to get the image of your naked body out of his mind. “You good?” You hum, “Long day?” You quip and he’s letting out a low growl. The sound is a deep, dark sound that reverberates from his chest. It admittedly has a warmth beginning to pool in your lower stomach.

He clears his throat and places his briefcase on the bench behind you two. He situates his suit, pulling it down to straighten it out. “Do you want to play a game?”

His voice shocks you, dismissing your questions entirely and turning around towards the bench and bending down to unlatch his briefcase. If he wasn’t so enraged and flustered he would have relished in the feeling of seeing you finally falter. The stupid fucking smirk you always wear is wiped from your face and replaced by a genuinely look of confusion. Your stoic confidence wavers, looking at him like he’s the most confusing person to live- and in a way he was.

He turns back to you, holding out the two paper squares that you’re both so familiar with. His hands are extended, palms up, the vibrant red and blue paper of the squares looking extra vibrant in the low lights of the subway tunnel. You look to the paper and then up to him- he seems collected again. It’s an almost scary switch; from visibly angered and flustered to an eerily stoic, professional expression. It was like you were someone he was recruiting.

You laugh a bit, scoffing at him. “I’m clocked out.” You say with a grimace on your face. You play this game almost everyday with various strangers, why on earth would you want to play it anymore than you were told you. “Consider it overtime.” He says shrugging, looking down at you the way a wolf looks down at a fawn- an easy target.

You didn’t like this, you didn’t like that he somehow had the upper hand on you all because you didn’t want to be bothered with a round of ddakji. So you reach your hand up and take the red paper square out of his palm. Your manicured fingertips dance along the skin of his hand in a lingering electric feeling as you pull away. “Fine I’ll humor you.” You say with an eye roll.

He can feel the excitement coarse through his veins, the image of your face becoming red with his hand flashing in his mind. The freak he is, the idea just spurs him on. “Ladies first.” He says as he drops his blue square unceremoniously to the tile floor.

You smirk, an eyebrow lifting playfully. You don’t break eye contact with him, keeping your head up as you hurl the square to the ground. It hits his red square, flipping it over with an echoing ‘smack’. Your smile widens, not even having to look down to know you won. His eye twitches the slightest bit but he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and beginning to pull out money.

“Oh no. I don’t need your money.” You say interrupting him. “No rewards this game. Just punishment.” You coo at him in a tone that makes his body become even hotter than it already was. He shrugs, trying to act like you had no effect on him. He slips his wallet back into his pants pocket and then straightens his posture. “I suppose that’s a good change of pace.” He rasps, his wicked smile beginning to widen when he sees is words have some sort of effect on you- your pupils are blown, your chest beginning to rise and fall with the heavy breaths you begin to take.

He wanted to say something else, maybe something that made your skin crawl and cause you to crumble more under his gaze but he doesn’t. Well he can’t. You wind your hand back and slap him with such force it causes his head to snap the opposite direction. He’s sucking in a breath, hand coming to cup his cheek to try and ease the heavy sting that’s left on his flesh.

The sadistic grin on his face begins to widen, he’s laughing. And then he’s turning back towards you. “I must say you have a powerful slap on you.” He chuckles, composing himself and glowering down at you. “You thought I wouldn’t? You’ve seen me working.” You quip back. You can see the way he tenses as he realizes you know about the various times he was trying to hide himself and stalk you from the shadows while you played ddakji with unsuspecting victims.

But like always, he gathers himself quick and shrugs, “It’s much different experiencing it. Can you blame me? A little thing like you slapping with the force of a grown man…it’s sure contrary.”

You huff at his words, wanting to retort back but the look he’s giving you and the slight purr in his words has you feeling hotter than before, a throbbing beginning to start in between your thighs. “I won’t take it easy on you.” He muses. “I wouldn’t expect you to.” You respond.

He’s bending down, and you have to admit; the image of him nearly on his knees looking up at you with the angry gaze he once had being shrouded by a hungry glint- it’s fucking amazing. But, he grabs the blue paper square off the ground and standing tall once more.

He doesn’t break eye contact, doing the same as you did and working quickly to throw down his paper square. You know by the distinct sound that he’s flipped your red square over. You have no time to react before he’s winding back and slapping you.

All the years of pent up anger and frustration are taken out in one hit. You can feel it. It has you jolting to the side, hunched over and gripping your cheek. It should have made you cry, or enraged you- but the freak of nature you were- it doesn’t.

You still for a moment in that position, the hand holding your cheek blocking his view from your face. A wicked smile spreads across your lips, you can feel the wetness that begins to soak into your panties, your heart is racing. This is exactly what you wanted.

He thinks he make have broke you, for a split second he almost finds himself wanting to reach out and check on you but then you stand up. You’re looking at him with wide eyes and a near frenzied expression. A crazed smile spreads across your lips, a red imprint of his palm blooming across your cheek.

You bend down, copying his earlier movements, squatting down and picking up the red square. You pause, holding the upwards gaze. His mind is swimming now, flooded with ideas of you on your knees as you choke and cry around his cock. He’s damn near thankful when you stand back up allowing the thoughts to dissipate.

You tilt your head a bit, rolling your shoulders back. You throw your paper square down on the ground. You don’t win this round, you hit his square and it jumps up off the ground but it doesn’t flip his over. “What a shame.” You say with a pout. He’s finding it odd you’re taking it so well, but he thinks it’s just a lucky win for him- he knows you know how to play ddakji, and he’s pretty sure your competitive self wouldn’t lose intentionally- so he just scoffs and shrugs. “Can’t always be so lucky can you, Miss?”

The little name he calls you only makes your cunt throb harder. It adds a weird personalization to the situation, it’s the first time he’s addressed you as such. You nod your head at his words, agreeing with him. So he deals out your punishment- his hand coming into contact with your cheek once again. It stings so much more this time, but the pain feels so good. You don’t fall over this time, your head just snaps to the side. A small gasping breath coming out of you, it’s a wanton sound that catches his ears and makes his body lock up.

Were you enjoying this?

He had to be crazy. Yeah that was it, it was just more of your tricks. You were doing your little witch magic and making him succumb to your ways. Maybe you were part succubus?! He discerns that’s what you really are because the way his cock swells even more within his boxers is all the proof he needs.

You repeat the same movements. Bending down, keeping your head looking up, locking his gaze with his through your thick lashes before slowly standing up.

This time when you throw down your ddakji square you’re tossing it down to the tile of the subway haphazardly and it lands nearly a whole foot away from his piece. “Oops.” You say, biting your lip in anticipation for what’s to come.

It seems to finally click with him. You were doing this on purpose. You were losing to him on purpose. He can’t even think straight, the only thing he can bring himself to do is slap you once again, this time harder than the rest.

He watches as your eyes flutter shut, rolling back in your head as a pained gasp falls from your lips. The gasp turns into a soft muffled moan when you bite your bottom lip. “You’re fucking enjoying this?” He hisses, his eyebrows furrowing in irritation.

He didn’t want you to enjoy this. He wanted to you suffer. To pay for the years of torture you put him through. “I don’t know what would make you say that.” You purr out, hand rubbing your cheek, looking at him with hooded eyes.

He stride towards you in only a few steps, his hand connecting with your throat and pushing you back into the cool tiles of the subway’s walls. You let out a choked surprised sound, hands coming up to wrap around his wrist.

“You’re looking at me panting like a bitch in heat and you’re asking why I ask that?” He hisses lowly, hand tightening around your esophagus, face coming closer to yours. “You like getting slapped around? Huh?” He says, shoving you harder into the wall. “B-by you, maybe I don’t mind it.” You say, your words hoarse and come out broken out by gasps, a twitching grin on your lips.

He sucks in a large breath, nostrils flaring, trying to compose himself even the smallest amount. “Bet you’re fucking soaked. What a whore.” He seethes, trying to degrade you- make you feel some shame. It doesn’t though, you’re letting out a strangled laugh. “Check for yourself.”

The words make all restraint, what little he has left with you, snap. And it snaps violently. With one hand still on your throat he’s using the other to work at your belt. It’s swift, rushed movements, his fingers nearly ripping off the button of your pants and pulling down the zipper. His hand dips into your panties, moving down the swell of your pubic bone.

His fingers drop to your cunt, running between your folds. You watch’s as his expression changes when he feels just how wet you are from him hitting you during the ddakji game. When he feels your soft cunt against his fingers, practically soaking his palm already a low rumble reverberates in his throat.

You’re left a gasping mess under his grip as his fingers move along your pussy, practically finger painting with your thick, syrupy arousal. His hand on your neck moves up, pushing your head upwards by your jaw and pressing his nose to the column of your neck and inhaling the sweet scent he’s been dreaming of all day.

You’re whining, trying to circle your hips down on his fingers. “Such a soft cunt…so fucking wet.” He hisses right below your ear. “Don’t you have any shame? Making such a mess already just from being slapped around.”

When you try to speak a moan slips from your lips, the way his fingers work circles on your clit has you falling apart under his hold. “N-no shame at all..” you say, a blissful grin spread across your face as your eyes roll back. He scoffs at your audacity, the fact you’re even still talking pisses him off. His two fingers move lower and sink knuckle deep into your tight cunt in one movement.

You let out a wanton cry, admittedly with the job you had you didn’t get much action. The stretch of his two fingers entering into you so rapidly sends a jolt of pain up your spine, a delicious stretch that has you drenching his fingers into even more of your arousal. When he feels the walls of your cunt grip his fingers like a vice he’s biting down onto your neck to keep himself from moaning.

His fingers being to pump in and out of you, massaging your walls like he’s trying to memorize the feeling of you. It’s addicting, the feeling of your cunt weeping over his fingers, clenching around him and spasming each time he drives his digits deep within you.

His tongue and teeth work along your neck in painful bites. You’re sure he’s drawn blood more than once but you don’t care, it makes this all the more better. Three years of trying to get under his skin, trying to make him break- trying to get him to succumb to your teasing, finally worked and you got what you wanted.

He releases your neck from his mouth and pulls back to look at you. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees that you’re absolutely lost in pleasure, a lazy smile on your face as you begin to fuck yourself on his fingers. You wanted this he realizes- this is all you wanted, you wanted him to finger you. As much as he should enjoy that thought; it angers him.

Once again, you had the upper hand and he could not let that happen. He actually has to fight a war with himself to remove his fingers from your cunt. When he does it’s a quick motion, his hand pulls out of your pants and his hand releases the hold it has under her jaw. He’s stepping back from you and straightening out his suit.

You nearly fall to the floor, your knees buckling. You catch yourself and look up to him with a look of disbelief and desperation. Now that’s more like it. “Pull yourself together….a little finger fucking getting you that worked up?” He mocks down at you, an eyebrow raised. You catch your breath looking at him with a scowl. How adorable, he thought. You’re standing up straight and start to fix yourself- tucking your shirt into your pants, zipping and buttoning them. You redo your belt, the scowl never leaving your face.

He looks boastful, like he’s proud that he won for once. “Shame the train doesn’t show for another hour…gonna have to stand in your own arousal like a shameful whore.” He says looking over to you, but when he does you’re already turning and walking away.

He’s confused, you really weren’t going to wait for your train? Then he’s scoffing proudly- he really got you so worked up that you had to leave and couldn’t even wait by him.

“S’not my train.” You call over your shoulder looking back, “made the detour over her because I knew it was yours.” You sing out in a light hearted mocking tone, he can hear the grin on your face. You came here specifically to see him, came out of your way to meet him at this station….you knew you would work him up and eventually get him to break. And he just gave you what you wanted…he didn’t get one over on you like he thought he did.

Motherfucker. You were one step ahead of him….again.

Tag list: @putrescentpoet , @albertzj , @otterluver05 , @babyblue0t7

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the tag list <3

[penelopepine]

New Prosthetic Eye

141 reacts to you showing them your new prosthetic eye.

Note: Anyone else in the COD fandom have a prosthetic eye or just me?

CW: Slight angst

Price: 

This was the first time Price was coming with you to the ocularist. You two had planned an entire weekend trip based around this appointment, but he had to admit that he was most excited about seeing the process of you getting your new eyes; the fun eye and the normal eye.

You had warned him though that this was going to be two days of going to the doctor’s office, putting the eye in, taking it out, and then leaving every few hours for the regular prosthetic. The visit only being a few minutes long every few hours, and that you would have understood if he didn’t want to come. He does want to come though; this is a major part of you. Nothing was going to stop him from being here with you no matter how mundane it is. 

“Honey, are you ready to tell me what design you're doing? I don’t think you can keep it a secret for much longer now that we’re here.” Price says to you while you both are sitting in the waiting room. 

You give him a devilish smile, “No, you’ll see it in just a few minutes! I’m not ruining the surprise while we’re this close to the finish line!” 

Price chuckled and squeezed your hand. You had told him a while ago that the fun eye was going to be a surprise for him. He had no idea how this was going to shock, but he was excited to see what you had done nonetheless. 

It was only a few minutes after that when your name was called by the doctor. You and her first talked about the regular eye, and her taking all the photos she first needed to get started. Next it was the fun eye. You had been talking with the ocularist for the past few weeks before your appointment talking about it. The fun eye didn’t need the whole back and forth like the regular eye did so when the doctor brought out a little box Price knew that the eye was in there. 

Excitedly so you remove the eye you already had in, and place it on the table beside you. Price stood right next to you as the doctor opened the box for you both to see. What he saw only reminded him of how much he loved you. 

The eye was covered in a honeycomb pattern and bee right in the corner. It was an obvious connection to the nickname “Honey” that he always called you. 

“That’s not even the best part,” you take the eye in your hand, and turn it around to show the back of it. Right where you would normally have a star symbol, a marker to let you know where the top was, instead was his and your initials. A heart drawn in between them. 

Price doesn’t think that he could have stopped the smile that graced his face even if he tried. Grabbing one of your hands he gives your knuckles a kiss. “Put it in, Honey. Let’s see it in action.” 

Gaz:

Gaz doesn't think he'll ever be able to forget the moment you first showed him your new eye. Your smile was bright, but uncertain as you looked at him. This was your first fun eye as you had called it.

You had come to him months ago talking about how you had made an appointment for a new eye, and that you were getting a fun eye as well despite being so nervous about it. When he had asked what you had to be nervous about you talked about it would then be obvious that you were different. That was why you had always only ever gotten the normal eyes because you didn't want to stand out any more than you already do.

It was a long conversation about your feelings surrounding your missing eye, but in the end he felt that he understood you so much more. Gaz honestly found the fact that you had a prosthetic eye pretty cool. He's so happy that you're now embracing it fully. 

"You look amazing, love." Gaz leaned forward giving you a quick kiss, "That eye truly looks like it was meant to be worn by you." It really did too. The design on the eye resembled a disco ball. Your eye flashed with every move you made. 

“Well it was made specifically for me.” You say with a small chuckle. 

Gaz chuckles along with you before remembering a conversation the two of you had a while ago, “Does this mean I can have one of your old eyes?” 

“You seriously want one?” 

“Of course! You said that people often made jewelry out of them, and I want to make a keychain with one of yours. That way I’ll always have a piece of you with me.” 

“We'll go down to the craft store tomorrow then, and get that made!” 

He gives you another kiss, “Perfect!” 

Gaz loved watching you the following days as you lit up every time you looked in the mirror. Moving your head around, and watching as the light bounced off your eye. He promised himself right there that if anyone said anything cruel about your new eye he would make sure that poor soul never looked in your direction again. 

Soap:

Soap couldn't believe that he was finally getting married to you today. It had been so stressful yet so fun planning for this day. He couldn't wait to see you walk down the aisle to him.

You didn’t let him see the wedding dress or your wedding eye, and he knew you were excited for him to see as well. Soap hadn't thought about a wedding eye when you two were talking about making appointments for everything, but when you had hesitantly brought up the idea of getting a new eye specially for the wedding he was all for it.

He had begged you to let him see it, but you had said that, just like the dress, him seeing it would cause bad luck. It was hard though not knowing what it looked like. Soap had been at every appointment since you two had gotten together; even helped you with a few designs as well. 

It wasn’t until the doors opened and the music started did Soap snap out of his thoughts. You, his soon to be wife, stood at the entrance looking ethereal. It truly took his breath away looking at you. He didn’t think this day could get any better. 

With you now standing right in front him he was finally able to clearly see your eyes. Your beautiful seeing eye and your wedding eye. Which somehow made his smile even wider looking at it. The design on it was his family’s tartan; it perfectly matched his kilt. 

“You have no idea what you do to me, lass.” Soap whispered to you as he took your hands in his. 

“I have an idea on exactly what I can do.” 

And that is exactly why he loves you so much. He doesn’t think anyone else could ever know him like you do. The only left to do know was to say “I do” and walk out of here as Mr. and Mrs. MacTavish. 

Ghost:

Walking into the front door of your shared apartment after being deployed was always something he looked forward to. As soon as the door shut behind you were already jumping into his arms, and he welcomed it every time.

He held you tight for several seconds before pulling away. Looking into your eyes he sees something that he’s never seen before; you got a new eye while he was away. Ghost couldn’t get enough of your eyes; both of them.

Your new eye’s design was a glittery skull. A skull that held a lot of resemblance to his own mask. Very gently he grabs your face, making you hold your gaze with his. “What’s this love?” Ghost makes sure to tap your cheek on the same side as your prosthetic just to make sure you know what he’s talking about.

"Do you like it?" You grin up at him, "We match!” 

“Hmm looks great, love,” Ghost loved all your eyes. He especially loved when you had given him a random gift one day that was one of your older normal eyes made into a bracelet. He wore it all the time. The reaction he got from Soap seeing it for the first time was something he would always remember. 

Getting a closer look at the eye, Ghost noticed that the accuracy of his mask was almost scary. Your ocularist was truly an artist and it showed with every single eye you had made. The new eye wasn’t his favorite, but it was a close second. His absolute favorite was when you got an eye designed after his own eyes. You had gotten it some time after you gave him the bracelet. 

Ghost didn’t understand why, when you first started dating, hid the fact that you wore a prosthetic eye. Only ever wearing a normal eye around him for the longest time. It wasn’t until you wore a fun eye with him, and you ended up getting harassed by an old woman about how terrible it was that you didn’t try and hide it. “You’re going to scare the children, “ she had said. 

It was a step back in your confidence of wearing them, but with time and reassurance it seems like you don’t ever wear your normal eye nowadays. He wouldn’t have it any other way; all he wanted was for you to feel comfortable expressing yourself. 

[redandgreyscale]

Do you guys remember that post where I said Evan tries not to kiss Barty during manic episodes because it is harder to get him to stop? Yeah... this is gonna be a fun ride!

warning for this: Limits are being crossed and non consensual touch is happening.

Barty's pupils are so big right now Evan isn't able to see the green on his eyes.

He knows what that means.

There are a hundred papers scattered on his table, too many open books and splashes of ink spread around from dipping the quill on it carelessly.

"Hey honey, what are you doing?" Evan sits in front of him on the library table. Barty barely looks up.

"I thought I could order my notes on transfiguration but then I couldn't remember what we did at the start of this year so I had to look for the corresponding books and then I thought I needed to dive deeper into what we're doing now too so my notes would be correct and more precise so I kind of... Yeah" he looks up now, and for how big his pupils are, he seems unable to focus on anything for too long. Evan nods calmly. Okay. He can do this.

"So you're making notes for this year's full curriculum?"

"For every year! Isn't it amazing?"

Every year. They're in their fifth year. Evan takes a second to think about how to deal with this. He could let Barty keep going even if it's a crazy— not crazy, they don't use that word. It's a very... Impractical thing to do. But he looks like he's already been here for too long, and even if he doesn't feel like it his body needs a break. His mind too.

"Yeah, it is" Evan replies, his hand moving to grab Barty's over the table "but maybe you could take a break and walk with me for a bit? It's sunny outside, I want to be with you in the gardens, we could kiss you know?"

Kissing is a shiny subject, in the sense that most times when he mentions it Barty leaves everything he's doing just for it. There are a couple other shiny subjects as he likes to call them, but this is the more effective one.

"But I want to finish this" his brows furrow, the internal debate clearly visible on the outside.

"You can finish it later, yeah? The books won't go away"

Eventually he gets to coo Barty enough to get him out (with a light threat to everyone within vicinity to not touch his table), and they walk for a bit. They get to the herbology class and stay there for a bit, Barty rambles nonstop about every single plant and creature that's there, and Evan listens nodding to all of it.

"Can we kiss now?" He asks after a bit, looking at Evan like it's the only thing he can see. So Evan kisses him and Barty returns it fiercely. Hands tugging at hair, grabbing at his shirt, moving until he's pressed against one of the walls and Barty covers his whole body.

It seems like a good way to let off steam, so Evan keeps up with it. It's fine, they know where the limits are.

Except apparently not. Because Barty's hand finds his belt, and suddenly he's biting his neck.

"Just kissing, Bee" Evan tries, grabbing Barty's wrist to stop him, it's okay, everything's fine, Barty will stop as he always does and—

"But you taste so good I just need to taste you whole" his voice is stronger, demanding, he presses harder onto Evan almost growling onto his neck.

"Honey please stop" Evan tries again, the bites on his neck get harsher, he can hear Barty panting right onto his ear and his hips pressing onto his. He can— Oh no. nononono "Barty stop" he tries to push him away, to end this, and Evan is a strong man, but Barty is stronger right now "Barty!"

Evan kicks him right on the groin with his knee hard enough to hurt and pushes Barty away when he's able to. Both their breathings fast and loud. No one says anything. Evan can feel his eyes sting, this wasn't supposed to happen, they talk about this things, Barty knows where the limits are. Barty stops when he asks.

Except he doesn't.

Evan gets away from there as fast as he can, not caring a bit about his ruffled clothes as he gets to his room and into the shower and finally allows himself to cry. He feels dirty, there's something ugly crawling onto him, he can't breathe, can't move. His skin burns from how much he's tried to clean it and by the time he gets out it feels raw.

He doesn't know how he'll look at Barty again.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Clawing my way out of depression with some incredibly silly Bumblebee x Reader, in which our beloved Scout is shrunk down to the size of a kitten via science magic and reader must keep him warm in their coat. Reader is gender neutral beyond having titties for Bee to huddle against. Read and join me as I defeat SAD with the power of silliness.

Shrunken Earthspark Bumblebee x GN!Reader

Rated PG for silliness, fluff and booby mention

Hunkering down at the abandoned warehouse you'd been told to wait in, you kept your eyes and ears on the horizon, hoping that the hum of familiar engines would cut through the howling wind and whirling snow before long. Though the air was frigid enough to freeze your breath, the bitter cold accounted for only a small portion of your desire to swiftly reunite with the team, as you had much bigger problems that you needed help with. Well, perhaps "bigger" wasn't the right word for it...

Standing atop the opposite end of the windowsill for his own vigil, Bumblebee looked remarkably alert and well composed for someone a fraction of their natural height. You supposed that his brush with Mandroid could have gone much worse; at least the device the scientist had escaped with had only shrunk the Scout, and done no further harm. It was a double miracle that you'd managed to find his tiny form amidst the knee deep snow of the battlefield. Rubbing your gloved hands together and trying not to stare, you told yourself that Wheeljack would be able to fix everything in no time, and that a few broken laws of physics would return your beloved bot to his usual towering height. Seeing him this tiny was just too strange, and not to mention unspeakably adorable.

A kitten-sized sneeze drew your eyes away from the snowy landscape out the window, and you looked over to find the Scout hugging himself through a dramatic shiver. "Bee? You okay?" you asked quickly, unable to help feeling far more protective than usual.

"F-f-fine!" he replied just as quickly, spinning around to face you. Digits trembling, he forced a shaky smile as he attempted to pass off crossing his arms as a casual gesture, though the tiny crystals of ice you noticed spreading across his frame gave him up just as readily. The poor mech sounded like he was seconds away from turning into a tiny Autobot popsicle as he shivered through every syllable. "Just a little... ch-chilly... B-but I'm f-fine!"

A number of realizations pinged through your mind at once; Bee must have lost a considerable amount of heat while buried in the snow, he was now far too small to regain said warmth, and he had no real idea how to stop himself from freezing now that he didn't have mass to protect himself. His pride had undoubtedly kept him from voicing the problem as it worsened, leaving you with a very tiny and very frozen Scout to thaw. "You're obviously freezing! Why didn't you tell me?"

"N-never been a p-problem before..." he replied as he gave in and started to shiver. Your heart twisted in pity, and you looked about as your brain raced to think of a solution, the lack of supplies leaving you with very few options. There was no way to build a fire, nor was there any power supply to start up the building's climate control, which was probably busted anyway. If only you had a tiny jacket to share...

"I need to get you warm; fast. Let me think... oh!"

The solution that came to you was very silly, and in a less life-threatening situation you would have thought it was quite embarrassing, but the prospect of saving your beloved Scout left no room for such doubts. Unzipping the front of your coat, you offered a hand for him to climb onto.

"Come here. You'll be plenty warm under my coat." you explained, figuring he'd fit perfectly between your shirt and the ample padding. Despite the chill, Bee managed a pink blush across his frozen cheeks, optics going wide in bashful embarrassment as he put together what you meant. It seemed that his pride hadn't shrunk with him.

"Y-you don't have-"

"Shush. At this rate, you'll freeze before our ride gets here" you insisted, voice growing a tad more urgent at his worsening freeze. Just watching his wings shake in time with his shivers made you care little for any kind of pride, including your own, and you used your concern to remain steadfast. Bringing your hand close enough for him to feel the warmth radiating from your glove made his resolve visibly waver. "So for now, my heat is your heat."

"Mmm..." he hummed in uncertainty, growing more tempted by the second. No bigger than a kitten and only slightly more intimidating, he cracked after only a few additional moments of hesitation, steadying himself against your thumb as he sat in your palm. He couldn't have weighed more than a pound, and you had to stifle a reflexive squee as he instinctively pressed himself into the warmth of your hand. A drooping of his optics made resisting that much harder. "Maybe just for a few minutes..."

"Of course." you said with a knowing smile. Gently sliding him into the opening of your coat, you just managed to avoid hissing as his frigid mesh settled against your shirt, though it was easy to ignore the discomfort when the tiny bot melted against you. With the outcrop of your breasts to support him, and the... "plush" of the area in question to keep him comfortable, Bee settled down as quickly as one would on a luxary mattress. Shivers dying down before your very eyes, the Scout rested his helm against you with the tiniest sigh. You had an undeniable urge to pet him as you whispered down into the little pocket of warmth. "There. Better?"

"Much... thank you." he murmured, looking up to meet your eyes with a smile as grateful as it was sleepy. Hoping he couldn't hear the resulting flutter of your heart, you pulled the zipper up a tad to keep the heat from escaping, grateful that your mammalian physiology could come in such handy. You'd have happily watched him rest his optics for hours, but a hum in the distance drew your gaze to the frosty window. Through the thick whirls of snow, your squinting eyes made out the faint outline of a familiar truck and aircraft, followed by a number of other vehicles you'd been hoping to see. The convoy had arrived.

"I think that's our evac, do you want-"

You went quiet at the sound of the tiniest snores you'd ever heard emanating from your coat, and as soon as your heart was done with its backflip, you found yourself wondering whether or not Bee would wish to be woken before his comrades saw him snoozing atop your breasts.

[mscherub]

Once Upon a Dream…

(Silver Vanrouge x Reader)

A/N: My first attempt at some angst on here…I have written it before, just posting it is a whole other thing…ANYWAYS, moral of the story here, I tried (I say that all the time but the question is, did I really 🤨?)

Yea…

Reader is gender neutral, referred to as Y/N, Prefect

Blurb: Reader forgets about the ppl in Twst after they leave. Silver is able to get into their dreams, but there’s limitations because of his UM where he doesn’t remember things when he wakes up…so! :P

Tags: Implied relationship with Reader and Silver before Reader left TWST, Reader forgets, Silvers UM

Warnings:

Angst

Possible spelling mistakes, knowing me, there probs is💀

(No swearing for once…didn’t know I could do it)

I know you…

The small pocket watch on the gingham picnic blanket ticks away, and you watch it curiously as you sit. The grass in the meadow is swaying along with the gusts of gentle wind that whisper past, rustling the clothes you adorned. The clothes, oddly enough, are soft and weightless against your skin and flow like they would if you were in a movie. Imperceptible and not restricting.

Your fingers work to weave stems of flowers into a small crown, humming softly along to a tune that you don’t remember ever learning in your life. You look over at the small patch of flowers and go to pluck one. The bees buzz around and fly away, but you pay them no mind. Here there’s serenity. But you’re missing something. Someone.

That silver haired boy you’d see time to time when your dreams were as perfect as this. Yes. You were dreaming. But it felt real. Just as soon as the thought passed, he appeared in the distance, the birds tweeting and chirping as to welcome his arrival. He approaches slowly— hesitantly, as if he wasn’t welcome in this space that your brain had managed to conjure.

He settles down and smiles softly, grabbing your hands like he usually does and whispers small greetings. Who is he, though? You could never truly tell. He seemed familiar. His voice rang inside of your ears and a pang of…something shot to your chest. Longing, maybe? But you didn’t know him, you don’t know his significance for being here with you in this moment.

He appeared to know you, however, and that thought made your head spin with confusion.

I walked with you once upon a dream…

“I haven’t seen you for a while.” You speak slowly, your hands subconsciously tightening around his. For what reason though? Was he not a stranger? Your body seemed to think otherwise.

You make eye contact and auroral eyes lock onto yours. It’s the same every time. Like these strange meetings follow a certain script. It’s always the same actions, as if his visits before were not remembered, but his actions are something of common occurrence. His eyes shine with reverence and he pulls you up to your feet and begins to walk around with you. The grass parts and you two walk through fields of flowers.

“I have not seen you forever, as well. Tell me, my heart…how have you been? I miss you with every fiber of my being. I wish you hadn’t had gone back, but I understand how important family must be.” His tone is solemn and you can see his throat bob as he struggles to hold back an onslaught of emotions that threaten to spill out.

My heart? What did you do for such terms of endearment. It’s a laughable thought. But you don’t protest to it. It sounds natural. You halt by a row of Forget me Not’s and he sighs.

I know you, that gleam in your eyes is so familiar a gleam…

He stops and cups your cheek. You don’t flinch like you had fully expected to. He’s not someone you know. But you don’t move. You gaze up at him as if he’s everything that’s ever mattered and you don’t know why. You can’t piece things together, but you need to— you can’t.

His eyes search your face but he doesn’t make any further moves. Pulling away and letting his hands fall back to his sides.

“Forgive me. Maybe you’ve moved on.”

Yet, I know it’s true that visions are seldom what they seem…

"It's quite alright." You give a curt nod and look up at the clouds floating above and ignoring his other muttered part of his sentence. All of this, the visions, the sounds, smells, your heightened senses, all created by your mind. A perfect meeting spot for you and this...mysterious being. You look back at him and he schools his expression to a simple smile.

"Your dreams are vivid. Mine aren't quite as detailed as this. It reminds me of when we were stuck in all of our friends dreams together before you left us." He smiles— tries to. It's forced and downturned. It's one of sorrow and regret. It's hard to read his emotions. But you can't help but feel a faint bit of remorse for him. You did nothing to make him sad. Yet this feeling keeps nagging at you. To tell him everything is alright.

But if I know you, I know what you'll do...

"I've missed you. And, I wish you were still here." He clears his throat. “It's selfish to say, yes, but it’s what runs through my mind. Like a record on loop at this point.”

His hand reaches out to you tentatively— an offer.

You'll love me at once...

"May we share one last dance, my dear?" He asks. “Even if it’s just in dreams…”

It's more so a plea, but it's one you've heard before in the other sleepy realities you've found yourself with him.

He always asks this. To dance until he brings you back to sit down on the blanket in the meadow. And you oblige, for reasons unknown, ones you don't try to understand, just going with the notion that it feels right.

You take his extended hand, falling into a step with him as you both dance to music that plays solely in your minds, but you both know the waltz, you know each pivot of the foot, you know each time you must turn and he spins you around, you know you feel at home when you both hold on to one another so tight, even if you have no recollection of what he did for you to feel so strongly of him.

The music fades away. You both stop dancing. He leads you back over to the same gingham picnic blanket you were seated upon before. The flower crown you were once weaving now lays splayed in the middle with two butterflies resting their tired wings. The both of you settle down and you grab the crown, placing it upon his head and smiling.

You should ask who he is. Why you haven’t done that in the past is beyond your comprehension. Possibly the sense of silent understanding, or maybe fear if you did ask then he’d go. Why you should fear him disappearing? It’s a hard thing to fully explain. But the moment is heavy enough, the weight physically palpable as it weighs down your shoulders with those unshared emotions.

The way you did once...

The pocket watch ticks now. It’s odd. It shouldn’t be that loud. The boy seems to notice it too and he glances down at it, and then only it gets louder, and louder...

Tick, tock, tick, tock—

Upon a dream…

Your alarm blares that same old annoying ringtone you've grown to resent with every part of your body. The sheets pool around your waist as you sit up and you look over at your partner who's already up and getting ready.

"I had the same strange dream I keep having...he was there again." You mutter, rubbing your eyes.

They pause and look back towards you. "Was he? Well... maybe tell him next time, this dream guy, that I don't fare too well with people trying to steal you away from me." They chuckle and shake their head.

"It's a dream, babe. It means nothing. Probably just a thing my brain decided to implement into my nights as a stress reliever...odd enough as it is."

"You know, I was reading this article and they said you can transcend different realities in dreamland... maybe that guy or whatever was someone you connected with in another life." They shrug. “Food for thought.”

All you can do is roll your eyes at the silly thought and shake your head. They could come up with some strange ideas sometimes.

“Should I give my hypothetical lover from another universe a name then?” You swing your legs out of bed and go over to your mirror.

“I would say no since I’m your actual partner, but it’s up to you.” They sigh, slipping on their shoes.

“For some reason…I think Silver is a good name…I feel it fits well.”

“Then Silver he is…but I’m better.” They come up behind you and wrap their arms around you, smiling.

“Maybe so…”

Guys. I was feeling a little sad today I guess. Thanks for reading, as always. LOVE U GUYS <3

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Pictures belong Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)