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sugarnspice630 · 7 months

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Dark Room - Wooyoung

"Working these late shifts with you has only made that urge grow, and I can’t contain my thoughts about you anymore."

•pairing: photographer!wooyoung x fem!photographer!reader

•word count: 1.9k

•tags: mdni, nonidol, dark room sex, wooyoung and reader are photographers, sensory deprivation(?), praise, fingering, wooyoung and reader have secretly liked each other for a long time, dirty talk, slight choking, ...did I miss anything?

Summary: Wooyoung and you work late shift at a photography studio and things gets a little risque in the dark room.

A/N: Inspired by my job honestly. Had this fantasy while working late one day and thought..mm yes Wooyoung would do this. I would like to preface that the dark room where I work is NOT the traditional, red lit, dark room. It's literally pitch black when you shut the door. Please be sure to drop a like, reblog if you enjoyed it, and comment your favorite part! Happy reading!

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆───

“Ah shit,” You curse out as you see the message on one of the printer computers. “Wooyoung, can you grab a Color Developer chemical for me? I need to change paper real quick, and my hands are kinda full!” Softly shouting from across the studio in hopes he could hear you from his desk.

“Yeah, I got it Y/N!”

“Awesome! Thank you!”

Both you and Wooyoung have been working the late shift at your photography job for a couple weeks now. You’ve been behind on processing orders because you were understaffed or everyone else had kids to take care of and had to be home by a certain time. This year has been crazy for school and sports pictures; taking on more schools and leagues, needing to train the new hires that only stay about a month and then leave, managing two printers that constantly need either paper changed or chemicals added to the bins, or the printer deciding to eat the photographs, causing you to have to reprint them—it was hell. You and Wooyoung however, were the perfect combination to take on night shifts! Naturally being night owls, not having kids to take care of, and working well together, you got more done than anyone else in the office could from their 7-3 shift. Hell, for the amount of work you do, you should be getting a raise or double pay, but alas, your boss doesn’t think that way.

Taking the empty paper cartridge back to the dark room, you snuck back out and browsed the shelf for the correct roll of paper, grabbing it before you turned around. You snuck a glance at Wooyoung grabbing the chemical off the shelf just down the hall. You shot him a quick smile before going into the room. Setting the paper down on the ground and moving the chair close to the wall so you could get a feel of your surroundings before entering complete darkness. The seal on the door wasn’t the best, so slamming it was the only way to ensure no light would get into the room. You flipped the lightswitch off and sat down in the chair.

While opening the paper case, you couldn’t help but think of the way Wooyoung’s long, black hair framed his face perfectly, when his bangs would occasionally get in his eyes, and the way he would tossle his head to move the pieces out of his way. Sometimes, when it was hot outside on a sports shoot, he would tie it up into a cute ponytail with such ease. The way he interacted with kids while on shoots, seeing his childlike nature come out and the kids getting along with him, was great. It absolutely melted your heart to see him so good with the kids. Always getting the best smiles out of them and staying on schedule while making the kids feel comfortable. On the opposite side of the spectrum, he really knew how to run the show. The way his voice commanded all the other employees on the job, telling them exactly what to do and making sure they were doing everything correctly. He hated to see people getting yelled at for taking “bad” photographs, but really it’s just the head photographer having a stick up his ass and being hard on everyone else while he does the same level of work, so he just wanted to make sure he appeased everyone.

Being in your own head, thinking about Wooyoung while changing the paper, you hear three knocks on the door.

“Helloooo? Y/N? You alright in there? Did you get swallowed by the dark abyss?” Wooyoung’s voice rang out from the other side.

“Shit.” You mutter to yourself. “N-No Wooyoung, I’m fine and perfectly alive! I just uh..had trouble closing the…lid.” You faked slamming the “lid” shut to make your statement seem believable.

“Oh gotcha, yeah, that thing is a bitch sometimes. Well, could you hurry up? I haven’t been able to finish the chemical cause I have to grab water and well uh…you’re in the room with the sink.”

“Oh right! Sorry!” You scrambled to clean the area up, almost forgetting there is a giant box in front of you and hitting your foot against the top of it, causing you to almost fall forward onto the door handle, but you caught your balance just in time. You pick up the cartridge and set it on the chair you were just sitting in to make room to open the door. You grabbed the handle, slowly turned it, and pulled the door towards you, hoping not to scare Wooyoung. You peaked your head around the side of the door and smiled.

“She’s all your’s~!” You stepped into the light and looked at Wooyoung to see his hands were empty and not carrying the water jugs. Your eyebrows contorted. “Uh.. your hands are empt-.” Your words were cut off by Wooyoung pushing you back into the room, grabbing the door from your hands, and slamming it behind him. The darkness of the room settled in, and you felt uneasy, not knowing where Wooyoung was. “W-Woo?”

“I’m right here~.” He said lowly and you felt his breath against the side of your neck. His hands softly trailing down your side and stopping right above your waist.

“What the fuck are you doing?” You protested and tried to squirm your way out of his grasp. His grasp on you only tightened as he had no intention of letting you go.

“Y/N I can’t help myself. Ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve had the biggest crush on you. Working these late shifts with you has only made that urge grow, and I can’t contain my thoughts about you anymore.” You felt your cheeks get hot and your thighs clench together. Did he really think about you this way?

“W-Wooyoung..” Your voice trailed off, not knowing how to feel about his confession.

“I think about you every night before I go to bed. Perhaps in ways that I…shouldn’t, but you’re just so beautiful.” Wooyoung brushes the stray hairs off your face and tucks them behind your ear. His breath feels warm against you and sends chills down your spine. You feel Wooyoung lean closer to you and his lips are right against your ear. “I touch myself to the thought of you. My name coming out of those precious lips of yours. I want you so bad Y/N. Please.”

“Fuck.” You mutter softly. His hands playfully sliding up and down your waist. You couldn’t help but feel excited at the thought of Wooyoung thinking about you this way.

“If I may have your permission, Y/N.” You softly nodded your head, allowing him to touch you in whatever way he wanted to. “I can’t see you love; I need you to use your words for me.”

“Y-yes Wooyoung…please.” You beg, and not a moment later, Wooyoung is kissing down your neck, occasionally nipping at your skin, causing you to groan. You tilt your head back so it is resting on his right shoulder. The feeling of his lips against your neck is intoxicating and you couldn’t get enough. He continues to kiss and suck at your neck, making sure to mark you up nice and pretty. A few kisses later, he grabs your hips, giving you a heads-up.

“Turn around baby.” His hands allow you to spin in place, not leaving your side and once you are fully turned around, he places them back onto your hips and you feel him lean into you again. Your lips search for his through the darkness, bumping into his cheek accidentally, and you let out a soft giggle. Soon your lips meet and you are passionately making out in the dark. His hands continue to feel up and down your body, one hand snaking its way to your ass and he grips it harshly. A soft moan leaves your mouth into the kiss. You feel Wooyoung’s lips form a smirk and he continues to grip onto your ass.

“You like that, huh?”

“Fuck, y-yes I do~.” You pant out, slightly out of breath. Wooyoung’s other hand, not playing with your ass, begins to toy its way down your waistband and slips through down to your underwear. His fingers tease the wet patch in your underwear that has been forming since he slammed the door, causing you to moan and tilt your head back against the door.

“So wet for me already babygirl~. You’ve wanted this to happen for a while, haven’t you?” You can only moan in response, his fingers pressing into you and you hear Wooyoung groan softly, his hips rutting against your thigh as he fingers you. “Making me so…fuck…fucking hard.”

“Woo..p-please stop teasing m-me. I need you.”

“As you wish~.” He wastes no time pushing your underwear to the side and slipping his fingers inside you.

“Fuck!” You cry out. His fingers stretching you more than your own or any toy ever has. You bite your lip and grind against his hand.

“H-Holy shit you do need me.” He chuckles at your body reacting this way to him. You’re absolutely driving him insane. “Wish I could see that pretty face of yours. Watch your face as I fuck you nice and good with my fingers.”

“W-Wooyoung~.” The dirty talk was getting you to your climax faster than you thought. His voice ringing through your ear like a melody you wanted to listen to on repeat forever.

“Fuck Y/N, you’re taking them so well.” You can’t see his face, but the way that sentence came out sounded like he was gritting his teeth together. You could feel your head spinning and you knew you were close to your release.

“Wooyoung, I-.” Your words are cut off by a moan slipping from your throat. “I need your hand on my neck.”

“Ho hoh~ kinky are we~? I always knew you were a whore.” Wooyoung quickly takes the hand that was playing with your ass and grabs your neck—not too hard, applying just enough pressure that you were seeing static.

“Y-Yes! Just like that.” You manage to choke out and feel the knot forming in your stomach. Your pussy clenches around Wooyoung’s fingers.

“Want you to cum on my fingers princess. I know you can do it.” Wooyoung’s demanding encouragement was all you needed to hear for the knot in your stomach to release. Wooyoung’s grip on your neck lessens, and a string of curses mixed with his name come out of your mouth. "Fuck, you sound so beautiful. Exactly how I pictured it.” Wooyoung pulls his hand out of your pants and kisses your lips gently.

“W-Wooyoung~.” Your voice is no louder than a whisper.

“Sshhh sh sh darling, I know~. Take your time recovering.” Wooyoung caresses the side of your face and wraps his other hand around your waist. He gently moves you out of the way and opens the door slowly, letting the light from the hallway come in, and you squint your eyes from being in the dark for so long. Wooyoung turns around and looks at you. "Fuck, you’re gorgeous even after your insides get rearranged by my hand.” You softly chuckle at his remark and lift your hand to swat at his shoulder.

“Not my fault; you know your way around~.”

“Guess working these late shifts together helped me get to know you better~.” A soft smile forms on his face. You feel yourself blush, and you shy away from looking at him. “Come on. Let’s get back to business.” He offers his hand for you to grab and you gladly take it. He walks you out of the room and down the hallway into the main area of the building.

“So…you working tomorrow~?” You ask playfully.

“I most definitely will be if you’re here.”

“Always.”

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luciferlightbringer · 2 months

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Stolen Away

Here is the one shot for my first giveaway winner @hawke1917 ! Enjoy!

Lucifer x fem sinner reader

Word Count: 4.6 k

CW: Trauma, Anxiety, Kidnapping, Fluff, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst Depictions of Violence, Torture

It was a relatively peaceful morning in Hell, you stood out on the balcony of your room that you shared with Lucifer and watched the residence below as you brushes out your hair. At some point you feel a hand on your arm, and you turn to she Lucifer smiling at you with loving eyes.

“May I?” he said, holding out a hand for the brush. You smiled and handed the brush to him, you loved how much he loved brushing your hair. You never wanted to make him feel obligated, but he always seemed to find you when you were brushing your hair or he would find times to play with it. And you were never upset by it because his touch was to die for.

Lucifer started to brush, “How are you this morning, my love?” he asked.

“I am doing well, it’s nice today, I like people-watching on days like this,” you smiled and sighed at the blissful sensory of Lucifer brushing through your hair. He blushed to see you so content at his touch. After a few minutes, he too looked out over the city.

“It is nice, isn’t it? Would you like to go out shopping with me in the city today?” he asked.

You turned and pulled him into a tender kiss, “Yes! I would love to. Let me go get ready.” You ran off to your closet, leaving Lucifer in a lovely daze on the balcony with the brush in his hand. He set down the brush and get himself ready as he waited for you. Along with his usual outfit, he also put on a necklace that you had gotten for him a few months ago as pet of a matching set. He wasn’t much of a jewelry guy but he loved matching with you or wearing things you got him.

You came out in a nice top and skirt with comfortable shoes for walking the city in, as well as the necklace than matched his own. Lucifer looked you over as you came out and gave you a dopey smile, “Hells you are beautiful.”

You giggled, “I feel a little underdressed next to you though,” you said, flicking the tip of his hat.

He looked down at himself and then as your sheepishly, “Is it too much? I can change!”

You took Lucifer’s hand, “No no! I was just teasing you, Luci. You look wonderful. Come on, let’s go out!”

You give him a kiss and start to pull Lucifer towards the door. You knew you had to get him going or else he would overthink that comment into an oblivion, you loved him so much but his anxiety and depression could just engulf him sometimes if he couldn’t get distracted fast enough. It was getting much better over time. But you still worried about it at times.

Before long, you and Lucifer make it down to the shops of the entertainment district of the Pride ring. It couldn’t be helped that you too would attract the stares and comments of the people of Hell, mostly people gawking and wanting to talk to Lucifer, which you understood, he was the King after all!

Some people also wanted to talk to you though, wondering how you snagged the King, some weird comments about you stealing him from Lilith, and then every once in a while you would get someone who just wanted to tear you down. Today was one of those days, because it wasn’t someone you could identify, just every once in a while you would hear a quick word or phrase. “Fake”, “sellout”, “homewrecker”, “slut”. They were all so spread out over the day that you didn’t really notice a pattern, Lucifer noticed one of the words on a more quiet part of the walk and got angry, shouting towards the sound, and you wrapped your arms around him to calm him down.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok, don’t feed into it, they just want to get a rise out of us,” you said calmly, holding his face.

“I know… I just hate that they are going after you. Lilith and I had an amicable split and she knows that I’m with you now. That should not be anyone else’s business,” he pouted.

You gave him a soft smile, “We are in hell baby, this is going to happen. Come on, let’s go get some food.” He sighs, tucks a stray hair behind your ear, kisses you, and then takes your hand as you walk together down towards a favorite food place of yours. On your way to the restaurant, you saw a store on the was that had the most adorable little circus clown rubber duck in the window, you almost pointed it out to Lucifer, but then you realized that you would rather it be a surprise, so you kept quiet and had a thought to come back for it later.

You two arrived at your favorite lunch spot, and of course one of the staff scrambles seeing the King of Hell at their front door. Lucifer tries to help the poor sinner remain calm and you get set up at a table. Lucifer reaches over to hold your hand during most of the meal, partly because he was romantic like that, but also because all of the attention was starting to make him feel nervous. He liked being out with you but fuck, these sinners sometimes made it really hard to be out. You tried to sooth him by rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand, and you watched him relax a little. He sighed, maybe he should have dresses down a little, maybe he wouldn’t have gotten as noticed then.

Food came and the both of you ate and chatted, giggling and having fun. At the end, Lucifer went to go pay for the meal. You told Lucifer then that there was a store you wanted to go to by yourself really quick and that you would be right back. Lucifer gave you a quick kiss before you walked out and down to the store. You tried not to run, but you were just so excited about this duck, it just fit his vibe so well.

You walked into the store and saw an imp in a cowboy hat and bright yellow eyes at the counter. They saw you approach and gave you a big smile, “Welcome in! It’s an honor to have you in your highness!” he said with a a southern accent and a wide sharp smile, a smile that almost felt a little forced.

“Oh… hahah… oh no I’m no royalty,” you added.

The imp laughed and walked around the counter, holding a glowing white lasso, “Haha, oh I know.” He quickly tossed the rope and caught you in it, spinning you in tightly before you can get free. You try to scream but he uses his tail to hold a knife to your throat, and not just any kind of knife, one made of angelic steel. You went quiet.

“Ahh, a smart one I see. Figured you may have been at least a little familiar with this metal. Seeing as how you and your Princess’ little friends seemed to be dripping in it several weeks ago,” he sneared. So… he had been watching you?

“What do you want from me?” you asked quietly.

“I want you to come with me,” he said, tugging the rope tighter, “we are gonna go someplace where your little King will never find you.” He laughed and you felt a sharp pain in the back of your head before everything went dark.

Over near the restaurant Lucifer waited for 10, 20, 30, minutes, and you never returned. He started to get nervous. He sent you a text or two and you didn’t respond. This was not like you at all. After the half hour, he decided to just call you. There was no ring, it went straight to voicemail, a chill ran up his spine. He called again, voicemail. And again, voicemail.

At this point, Lucifer was starting to panic. He took off and started to fly up and down the streets, most were just marveling at his wings, but a few called out to him. “My girlfriend, (y/n), she was just with me and now I can’t find her. Has anyone seen her?” He gave your description, showed a picture of you to a few people, even showed the necklace to see if anyone had seen someone with the same one. One person pointed him towards the shop that you went into. He went towards it and landed, seeing the circus rubber duck in the window, is that what you had come here for?

He walked in but saw no one there, “Hello!” he called out, still on guard. He heard a noise from a hall closet. He carefully went and opened the door, and a young imp woman tided in ropes tumbled out. Lucifer got her free of the ropes quickly.

“What happened?!” he said to the woman.

“Your majesty! I… I don’t know! This man came in, an imp, cowboy hat and yellow eyes, southern accent. He tied me up and shoved me in here! I heard someone else come in, a woman that he called “your highness”. I think he took off with her.”

“Where?!” Lucifer yelled.

The woman pulled back, “I don’t know! He didn’t say! Please don’t hurt me, your majesty!”

Lucifer took a breath, realizing he was scaring an innocent woman. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to yell at you… I have to find her.” He ducks out of the shop and takes to the air, looking to find and signs of you or the imp the woman had mentioned. But this man was quick and he had gotten you out of there quickly, there was no trace of you or him.

What could he do? Where was there to start looking for you? Who could he call? One of the Sins? He thought quickly, thinking about who would be the best to call. Then he remembered that Ozzie had told him about his boyfriend Fizz getting kidnapped several months ago, maybe he would have an idea of where to start. From the skies, Lucifer started a video call with Ozzie.

Ozzie’s face showed up on the screen, “Hey Luc, not like you to call out of, ohhhh noooo, Lucifer what’s wrong?” Ozzie said after seeing Lucifer’s face.

“It’s (y/n), I think she’s been kidnapped. Please I need help and I don’t know where to start,” Lucifer wailed into the phone.

“Oh shit! Uhh… ok, hang on.” Ozzie’s faces move to look at someone off screen. “Fizzy? Do you have the number of that old friend of yours?” Muffled response from Fizzaroli. “Ya, Blitzø.” Muffled response. “Shit.” Muffled response. “Stolas? Ok.” Ozzie looked back at the camera, “Do you mind if I add Stolas Goetia to the call? He has a… friend of sorts that can help. He has saved both Fizzy and Stolas before.”

“Anything, I’ll take anyone’s help. I just need to find her!” Lucifer panicked.

“Ok ok! Try to stay calm Lucifer, we will find her. Try to find a place to land for now. I don’t want you flying while you are panicking.”

Lucifer nodded and landed on a nearby building roof while Ozzie got Stolas on the call.

“Well hello Asmodeous! A pleasure to hear from you, and… my stars, is that Lucifer?” Stolas asked.

“It is, he has a bit of a problem, we are wondering if you can help connect us with the person that saved you and Fizzy, that… Blitzø? Lucifer’s girlfriend has gone missing.” Ozzie said.

“Oh my! Has she been taken from you, my dear King? I would be happy to connect you with my Blitzy, him and his friends are very good at finding and saving people,” Stolas said with pride in his voice.

“Yes! Please! I need someone to find her!” Lucifer said, pulling at his hair. How many more people would he need to get on the phone before he could find someone that could help? As many as it took! He kept anxiously fidgeting with his necklace.

Stolas added Blitzø to the call, and Blitz chaotically picked up the phone ”What the fuck do you want Stolas? I’m in the middle of a meeting right now! Also video call, that’s bold of… whoa. Holy shit is that fucking Lucifer?” Lucifer awkwardly waved. “Whoaaa, Moxxie, Millie, Loonie, look it’s King Lucifer!” Lucifer watches as the faces of the other three squish into the video and wave, Lucifer gives another awkward wave back.

“Wait,” Blitz said “this isn’t some weird sex thing, is it Stolas?”

Stolas waved a hand, “No no no darling, this is a matter of the utmost importance. His majesty’s girlfriend has been kidnapped and I know you are just so talented at finding things, he needs your help.” Lucifer caught some flirty undertones in Stolas’ voice towards Blitz but he chose to ignore that.

Blitz blinked, “The King of Hell needs our help, this is fucking awesome! Alright, lay it on me, Luci, what’s the sitch?”

“And you uhh… trust this guys Stolas?” Lucifer added.

“With my very life,” Stolas said, putting a hand over his heart.

“Mine too!” Fizz called out from behind Ozzie.

Lucifer nodded and told Blitzø everything that had happened with you leaving to go get something, no response on phone calls or texts, and the reports from the woman.

“Wait… run that guy’s description past me again?” Blitz asked.

“Imp, short white hair, cowboy ish hat, yellow eyes, a kind of southern accent?” Lucifer said, “I didn’t see him but the woman at the shop did, she was tired up with rope.”

“Kinda like she had been lassoed?” Blitz said flatly.

“Ya!” Lucifer said.

“Fuck! Not that god damn prick again, why does he keep fucking kidnapping people?!” Blitzø said as he set down the phone and started to dig for tools.

Stolas gasped, “You don’t think it’s that Striker now, do you Blitz?”

“Oh I know it’s fucking Striker, he has such a signature style I can practically fucking smell it at this point,” Blitz added.

“Who is Striker?!” Lucifer asked.

“He is an Imp who is a sort of bounty hunter of sorts, he kidnapped Fizzy, Blitz, and Stolas before. He almost kicked Stolas before!” Ozzie added.

Killed? “Wait… does that mean he…” Lucifer said.

“Has access to angelic steel? You bet your fucking ass he does, and I have a fucking score to settle with him,” Blitz picks the phone back up, “but that also means I know exactly where he is. The Wrath Ring.”

“What? But… mortal souls don’t leave the Pride ring?” Lucifer added.

“That wouldn’t stop him from finding a way to smuggle her into the ring, also you would be less likely to suspect him there with a mortal soul. Trust me your majesty, I have this covered. Anything else you need me to know?” Blitz asked.

Lucifer sniffles, “No, just bring her back to me. Please.”

Blitz salutes Lucifer, “We will get her back sir” Blitz puts on some sunglasses, “Alright, bitches. Saddle up, we are heading to Wrath!” Then Blitz hung up on his end.

Lucifer took a deep breath and sighed, he was so worried about you. Worried that this “Striker” guys was going to harm you. Was it to get to him? Or something else?

“It’s gonna be ok Luci,” Ozzie said.

“Yes, and is there anything else we could possibly do to support you, Lucifer?” Stolas added.

“I… I don’t know… I wanna go back home but I don’t wanna be alone right now. I’m so scared for her. If I knew where she was I could take care of it myself… but tracking is not one of my strong suits…” Lucifer said.

“They have a hellhound on their team, she is good, she found my daughter when she got lost on Earth one time. They will find her, Lucifer,” Stolas said.

“How about you come over and hang with me and Fizz, Lucifer. Stolas can come too if you want that,” Ozzie offered.

Lucifer nodded, “Be there in a sec.” Then he hung up. Lucifer opened a portal and stepped into the lobby of Ozzie’s residence, and a second later, Stolas opened his own portal and stepped in, right as Ozzie rounded the corner with Fizz. Ozzie sighs and puts a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder.

“I’m just so worried about her, especially if he has access to angelic steel… oh… my darling girl…” Lucifer started to cry. Ozzie and Stolas looked at each other, Stolas was thinking back to his own encounter with Striker, but he was not going to share that with Lucifer now, it would only worry him.

“Nothing we can do now besides wait Lucifer, I’m sure once they find (y/n), Blitz will be calling us so that you can swoop down there and take them out yourself,” Stolas said.

“Until then, come join Fizzy and I for food, we just finished making lunch,” Ozzie said leading them further into their home. Lucifer had still recently eaten and was not feeling like more, but he was willing to be with them while he waited for the results of the search. Fizzaroli chanted “Burger time, Burger time,” as they walked to the kitchen, which at least got Lucifer to crack a small smile. But seeing Ozzie with Fizz and Stolas talk about Blitz made him feel your absence even more. He held onto the necklace that matched yours, and thought, ‘We will find you, Sweetheart, I promise.’

———————————————————————————————————————

Your eyes opened as you came back to consciousness, the only thing you could see was the white glow of the rope around you, and two bright yellow eyes, that were looking at you from several feet away.

“Aww, so the King’s pet is now awake. Welcome back to the land of the dead… for now,” the man said and chuckled.

“Who are you? What do you want from me?” You asked.

The eyes squinted and moved up and then slowly towards you, “Name’s Striker, not that it will matter soon. and I’m here to torture you, maybe kill you.” He gave an evil chuckle, and as he grew closer, you saw another light start to shine silver about a foot below his eyes, in the shape of a blade. You froze, remembering that he had angelic steel on him. One wrong move and you would be dead for a second time, no Lucifer, no hotel.

You swallowed hard, “I’ll do anything you ask, just tell me what you want.”

He continued to walk towards you and held the angelic blade to your chin and lifted it up, you could now see a little more of his face, and it was the same man who tied you up.

“Smart girl,” he growled, “But I didn’t drag you here because I needed something from you, although using you to get to that royal family would be pretty nice. But I know I can’t take him on. No… I’ve been hired to kill you my wanna-be royal.”

You scowled, “I am not a wanna-be royal, I love Lucifer despite him being the King, and I care about what Charlie is doing despite her being the Princess!”

Striker flicked the blade across your check and you gasped as you started to feel blood drip down your face. “Pitiful that you would believe your own lies, anyone that chases a blue blood is always wanting what they have. Even if you do care, there is something someone wants out of it. And the people that want you dead, don’t like that some sinner got to be by his side. What makes you so special that he chose you above anyone else?”

You breathed heavily, “There… there are other sinners that want me dead because I’m with Lucifer?” This comment earned you another flick of his blade, this time on your arm, then he kicked you over in the chair you were in and glared over you.

“More than just sinners, baby cakes,” he glared down at you. “I’m personally a fan of all the royals and their mates being dead. They treat us like scum!”

“No! Please! Striker I don’t want anyone to feel that way! Let me talk to Lucifer and we can try to fix things!”

This response ended with the knife plunged into your thigh, and you let out a scream.

“Oh see! Now that you are at the end of my knife, you are willing to reform things. Well it ain’t gonna work this time! I’m not listening to blue bloods, or their lying simps!” Striker yelled.

Tears started to stream down your face. All you could think about was Lucifer, how scared he probably was, and how he was going to find you in this cave, dead. You dare not make any more comments, hoping that maybe your silence will buy you more time for… something, anything. You didn’t know if anyone was going to save you from this, but you wanted to hope.

Striker continued to walk around in the darkness for a while, leaving cuts or jabs into your body with his knife, leaving you screaming as he tormented you. You secretly hoped your screams would tell someone, anyone, that you needed help, but who in Hell would come save you other than Lucifer and the hotel crew? How would they know where to find you.

A while later, you heard something that sounded like a motor and a light, showing more of the area round you, and showing that you were in a cave of some sort. Striker was distracted by the car as it came closer until it came to a screeching halt as three imps and a hellhound jumped out.

“There you are you fucking psycho! Nice job finding a different creepy ass mine shaft in Wrath, how many of these places are there!” The tallest of the imps called out.

“Blitz?! What the hell are you doing here?!” Striker asked as he moved into a more aggressive stance, pulling out a gun.

“Ahh, well you see, you pissed off the King of Hell and uhhh… he has contacts. And unfortunately for you, you are so fucking bad at your job that you practically leave a calling card at this point! An imp with yellow eyes, a cowboy hat, and a southern accent that loves kidnapping royals or there bitches? That just screams “Striker” pal.” Blitz started pulling out his phone as he talked.

“What are you doing?” Striker said.

Stolas picked up the phone, Blitz smiled and just said, “Oh nothing, just tell my friend where we finally found you sick fucks with King Lucifer’s girlfriend, at the middle part of the eastern mineshaft in Wrath by the way, so that he can come take care of you.”

A moment later, a red portal opened up above you all and Lucifer flew out, all six wings flapping furiously, full demon mode out on display. Lucifer saw you, and then locked his eyes on Striker and dove at him. Striker was able to narrowly miss Lucifer’s first lunge, but not the second as Lucifer swung back around and grabbed Striker, taking him to the ground and knocking the weapons out of Strikers hands, and holding him down.

“WĦÄȚ ŤĦĘ FŲĆĶ ÐÍÐ ŶØŰ ŤĦĨŅĶ ŶØŮ ŴĚŘÊ ÐØÏŃĞ ĶĪÐNĄPPÌÑĞ ĦĚŘ?” Lucifer roared at Striker below him. Striker was now shaking.

“Please! Ahh… My King… it was a job, a good paying one, I just take what I can get,” Striker stuttered beneath Lucifer, now fearing for his life.

“ŴĦØ ĦĨŘĘÐ ŶØŮ ȚØ ĶǏŁŁ HĘŘ?!” Lucifer roared again.

“Just this small group off pissed off sinners! Fan girls of some kind, I don’t know! They had crazy money to pay me!” Striker pleaded.

Lucifer was about to start swinging when he heard your voice.

“Lucifer, stop,” you pleaded in a pained whisper.

Lucifer turned to look at you, bloodied and beaten in a tipped over chair. Millie and Moxxie ran over to untie you and put on some basic bandages to cover open wounds.

“Būț ŵħŷ, mŷ løvę? Łøøķ ãț ħøŵ ħę ħåş ħůřț ŷøù?” Lucifer said calmer.

“Yes… but he says the imps suffer… and are treated poorly… worse than sinners… I want… to figure this out…” you slowly said through a rasp.

Striker’s eyes went wide, was this bitch for real? He looked up at Lucifer, who looked down at him. “Ïş țħâț țřüę?”, Lucifer asked down at Striker, who nodded. Lucifer then looked over at Blitz, Millie, and Moxxie, who also nodded.

Lucifer sighed, and referred back to his normal self while still holding Striker down, “Fine. I’m sorry you have all had that experience, I will work on seeing how we can do better with that. But if you come for me and my loved ones again, it’s gāmė øvęř for you pal, ok?” He said looking down at Striker. He nodded again. Lucifer got up and released him, and Striker slinked away.

Lucifer then ran over you and looked you over, cupping your face in his hand, “Baby… oh fuck…” He almost started you cry seeing all of your cuts. He started to heal you, and it sort of worked, but heeling does not work as well again wounds made with angelic steel.

“Sweetheart, it’s ok… I’m ok. I’m sorry I was so stupid,” you apologized.

Lucifer shook his head, “No… this isn’t your fault my love. There are some crazy people in hell and… I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

“Sounds like we just need to be more careful going out,” you added.

“Well… as touching as this love fest is, can we get the fuck out of here? One of your little portals would be killer for getting out of this shithole… ya know, if you don’t mind… your majesty,” Blitz said, realizing throughout the statement that he should probably talk to Lucifer with a little more respect. Lucifer lifted an eyebrow, but sighed and picked you up, and opened a portal back up to the Pride ring, not far from the hotel, and everyone went through, even Blitz’s car.

Lucifer and you then took your leave of the others and he flew you over the hospital, even though you insisted that you were ok. You were patched up and sent back home a few hours later. Once at home, Lucifer continues to fuss over you until you asked him to just lay by your side. Eventually he did lay down next to you and calm down a little, holding you close to him but being careful of your wounds. Every shift and groan made him look at you with fearful eyes still.

“Do you need anything? Do you need me to move?” He asked.

“Luci, it’s ok, it’s gotta hurt for a bit but I’ll live, I promise,” you stroked his hair, “What would help the most is if you don’t panic with every move I make. I promise if I need something I will tell you?”

“Ok…I just don’t understand how you can be so calm after all of that,” Lucifer said setting his head down of the pillow and looking at you.

“I’m not calm… but I’m not scared either… I’m home save in your arms. I know I’m safe with you,” you said.

“I’m the reason you got hurt,” he said sadly.

“No. You are not responsible for what sinners do or how imps act. I left myself in the open. Shit happens. I just know that I need to protect myself more in the future. Ok?” You said, moving a hand to cup his check.

He nodded, and he snuggled in close to you as you both drifted to sleep after a long, chaotic day.

#hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer #lucifer magne #fanfic #fanfic writing #lucifer x reader #fanfiction #angst with a happy ending #angst #hurt/comfort #asmodeous #stolas #blitzø #hellaverse #luciferlightbringer

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mochirizu · 1 month

Text

A collection of WK headcanons because I can

MARTIN - 28, 5'10, he/him, December 23rd

BIGGEST heart on the team. Sees good in everybody

He's like if someone gave a golden retriever a human suit.

BANNED from the kitchen he CANNOT COOK at his ancient self

He pulls the 'big brother card' a LOT

He LOVES to sing, but nobody has the heart to tell him he sucks so they just...let him

He loves so easily

Martin makes the stupidest dad jokes

He labels his things with a blue sticker so he can keep his stuff organized... he still loses things

He taught himself Mandarin Chinese out of sheer boredom; he is now almost fluent

He needs people to like him or he will DIE

Do not give him coffee; he will be insane and hyperactive and then go awol for the rest of the day

CHRIS - 24, 5'8, he/him, July 19th(Gemini)

Burned-out gifted kid? Yes

His experiments normally consist of him using Martin as his guinea pig for payback for all the jokes he got pulled on as a kid

Loves cinnamon-flavoured anything

He also has a pretty high spice tolerance

Used to be friends with Zach in preschool, but it stopped not long after that

He climbs trees because he's a sensory seeker.

Chris is an avid tea drinker

He is also the best dancer on the team

Chris was such a geek in high school, he didn't 'glow up' until he was 17

Since the Tazzy incident, Chris occasionally has cravings for raw meat but chalks it up to low-iron

The only one on the team with a consistent sleep schedule

AVIVA -26, 5'5, she/her, April 5th(Aries)

Her dad raised her to be tough and strong, therefore making her a perfectionist and a maniac lol

Aviva loves Hot chocolate with Marshmallows, and watching nostalgic cartoons

She has a nasty habit of comparing herself to others and gets ridiculously insecure when anyone challenges her opinion. She masks it by being defensive and doubling down

Beautiful by default(duh) but she doesn't see it

She has a nasty older brother who was the stem of all her insecurities

She found a grey hair once and cried

She was cheer captain in high school, hence her athleticism

Aviva is messy as hell. Like, more messy than Martin.

She also dislikes mud

The worst dancer on the crew(I'm sorry), but she's the most talented singer

NEVER lets her hair down, it gets in the way too much.

KOKI - 27, 5'4, she/they, Feburary 13th(Aquarius)

Raised by a single dad(parents divorced)

Grew up basically rich, but was kept humble

Koki's uncle taught her mechanics before he passed away when she was in middle school

She had a pet canary named Booboo

She has pent-up anger issues

LOVES Zytago music as her family comes from New Orleans

She 100% has muscles and biceps. Martin is jealous

"No, I'm not gay. Everyone wants to kiss their girlfriends at some point....right?"

When it comes to cooking, she's Jimmy's sous-chef

HATES being in tight or confined spaces

Wants to style her hair in something else other than a single puff, but always gets busy before she can book an appointment with a stylist

JIMMY - 25, 5'9, he/they/doesn't care, August 20th(Leo)

Had a very normal childhood. Like, eerily normal.

Has a younger brother and an older sister and they are ALL GINGER.

Everyone in his family is a Ginge except for his mom

Jimmy can speak nearly fluent Korean because he took a gap year in South Korea after High School.

He studied software engineering but dropped out to attend culinary school instead

He is the COOKING MASTER EVER

His family is secretly wealthy as FUCK

He has his own power suit, just never uses it

Had an emo phase

Jimmy's full name is James Coleman Benedict Zeigler

Grandma Jimmena has a bunch of random stories from her childhood and they are all UNHINGED

#wild kratts #martin kratt #chris kratt #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #koki #wild kratts aviva #wild kratts martin #wild kratts chris #wild kratts koki #wild kratts jimmy z #wild kratts fandom #wild kratts headcanon

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aroaceleovaldez · 2 months

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Do you have any fun Piper headcanons?

BOY DO I

She wears velcro shoes. they're the gaudiest, tackiest looking ones she could find that fit her from the kid's section. I personally usually like to give her Hello Kitty ones. She wears them cause they're fun and colorful and also ADHD causes problems with fine motor control which can make it hard to tie shoelaces, and the bright colors are great for sensory stuff, so colorful kid's velcro sneakers it is. This is so important to me.

Hair ties! I like to give her two braids down the side of her face tied off with big chunky bright hair ties. My hc with that is that she braids her hair as a stim, and those are just the easiest chunks of hair to braid and unbraid idly (source: that was one of my stims back when i had long hair), plus probably chews on them as another stim (she needs a chew necklace real bad she'll get one eventually). The hair ties being bright colors is once again sensory stimulation from bright colored clothing/accessories go brrr, they bonus as an extra fidget, and also she adores tacky/gaudy stuff and anti-fashion so they go right in with her aesthetic (or lack-there-of).

Okay so yknow how everybody started drawing Piper with beaded earrings. I disagree with the style of earrings everybody gives her - most people go with giving her BIG dangly beaded earrings. I don't think she's a big earrings person, or particularly a dangly earrings person, or at least not a "stylish" big earrings person. I DO however think she'd 100% adore beaded fandom earrings, like these hello kitty ones, or these Kiki's Delivery Service ones.

In general i think she owns so much youtuber merch. It is a solid staple of her wardrobe. The sillier and stupider, the better. She DEFINITELY has the GMM "Everybody knows i love lesbians" merch. She is the target demographic of that ridiculous redbubble merch stuff that's like, a throw blanket that's a collage of insert-youtuber-here's face. Also just general fandom merch. Again, the more ridiculous the better. She hates fashion you KNOW she's mix-and-matching cosplay pieces at least half out of spite just for fun.

She also 100% buys jackbox Tee-KO tshirts and has a whole collection of them.

Because I like giving Piper at least some sense of "I know people who exist outside of the main cast of protagonists" (that is severely lacking in HoO) i like to hc that Shel is an old childhood friend of hers that was like neighbors with her grandpa or something similar, so whenever Piper would visit they would hang out. When Piper moves to Oklahoma they start hanging out again and start dating.

She has very eclectic music tastes. When she was younger it was mostly she hated everything "popular" out of principle but as she got older it's just anything, though a general lean for stuff a la 2000s top hits, cause she is not immune to nostalgia. or late 2000s emo.

Contrary to popular fanon I don't hc that Piper and Leo were "true" friends pre-Hera memory shake-up. I imagine they had one of those school alliances you sometimes make where you see each other every day and you prefer working with them during class versus whoever else but you know like all of 4 things about them including their name and you've never hung out outside of class before. Immediately after their TLH quest they shift to more of a "we are in a new environment (hell of a situation with ADHD/autism) full of strangers (hell. hell on earth) but we know who each other are and are already familiar with one another so. CAMARADERIE." and by the end of the Argo II quest it's a "okay we're ACTUALLY proper friends now." They're not each other's best friends (Piper's is Annabeth and Leo's is Hazel) but they have a VERY strong unique bond of "we've been through this with each other from the beginning, since before all this demigod stuff."

Piper is very "queer label fuckery" to me. She'd LOVE defying boxes and just messing around with all of that. She's digging deep to find niche labels and using atypical combos and it's a really great identity sandbox for her. Also messing around with gendered language in a similar manner.

I don't care what canon says she and Drew eventually warm up to each other and become good siblings to me. Piper unlearns her internalized misogyny and Drew unlearns some of her toxic femininity and they learn to appreciate each other's perspectives - Drew eventually comes to find Piper's perspectives on fashion and the entertainment industry fascinating and Piper respects how outspoken and self-advocating Drew is. They get really into DIY fashion projects together - Piper's goal is to get Drew hooked on alt fashion and it's working.

#pjo #riordanverse #piper mclean #ask #Anonymous #headcanon #headcanons #long post //#i have more piper hcs but these are most of the fun/silly ones

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thecuriousquest · 8 months

Text

Baby Bird Part Two

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnugs

Request: Heyy! Really enjoyed reading ur Hawks fic:) Would u be interested in a part 2 like what happens after the online learning starts? Maybe she tries to sneak out of her window to see friends from school and hawks catches her? Thank you 🫶🏽(Love all ur fics btw)

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, spanking/corporal punishment mentioned (reader doesn’t actually get spanked), isolation punishment mentioned, sleep deprivation, sensory deprivation, reader tied to chair

Part One Here.

Checkout my Master List here.

—————————————————————————

Keigo has gone through the entire list of punishments. He has taken you away from schooling, given you extra chores, and makes you wake up early to do extra studying.

So why, WHY, aren’t you responding well?

After all of this, you’re still trying to sneak out of the house to go visit your friends from school.

He hates thinking about using corporal punishment, but what choice are you really giving him? Your stubborn attitude needs to be stopped.

Keigo wakes up on a regular Thursday night, hearing rustling coming from outside of the house. His feathers can sense abnormal vibrations, and he gets up to checkout everything.

Low and behold, you’re hanging from your fucking window, your friends looking as if they’re about to catch you.

Keigo rests his elbows on your window sill and give you a blood curling smile.

“So, you just hangin’ around out here at three am?”

“Keigo…you were supposed to be asleep.”

You feel feathers lifting you up under your arms. They guide you back inside as Keigo takes a step back to let you in.

Sticking his head back out, Keigo shouts at your friends, “Sorry about all of this. My baby sister is being a naughty little girl, and she’s about to be punished. I’m sure you understand. Be safe getting home!”

He shuts your window and whirls on you.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?!”

“What’s the matter with me? That was so fucking embarrassing, Keigo! Why would you say that to my friends?!”

“Don’t you dare try to turn this on me. You were the one trying to sneak out AGAIN. What the hell has gotten into you?”

You clench your hair in your fists and pull on your locks out of frustration before stomping your foot against the ground. “You took everything from me! I hate homeschooling, and I hate not being able to see my friends even more!”

“That was your punishment for going out behind my back. Obviously, I wasn’t hard enough on you because you’re still pulling the same crap!”

You glare at him with glistening eyes, and for a few moments, you two stare at each other in an unspoken challenge. His intense gaze gets the better of you, and you end up looking away from him.

Keigo plucks a feather from his wings and looks at you. “You gonna act like a little kid? I’ll just have to treat you like one. Thought I wouldn’t have to do this, but nothing I do seems to work.”

Taking a step back, you hold your hand up to ward him off. “Wait, Keigo, don’t! You don’t have to do this! I’ll listen. I swear, please, just- fuck, no!”

You high tail it out of your room. You know him well enough by now. He probably just sent a feather after you, but you still try to run from him.

Correct in your thinking, a feather dips into your hoodie, pulling you upwards by the collar of your sweatshirt. You kick your legs, screaming for your brother to put you down.

“Actually, I think a spanking isn’t severe enough for this. I’ve got a better idea in mind.”

———

You whine as you struggle against the kitchen chair that you’re now tied to. With duct tape over your mouth, he places a pair of headphones over your ears which play a continuous stream of static.

And then, Keigo covers your eyes so you can’t even go by the clock on the wall.

———

You have no idea how long you’ve been like this. It could be one hour. It could be all night. You really can’t tell. The static sounds the same, and it’s driving you crazy. It’s the same noise over and over again. You scream for Keigo to turn it off, to let you go to sleep, but your noises come out muffled.

This has to be some form of abuse or torture.

You groan and throw your head back, trying to shut it all out. Maybe, if you can manage that, then you can get some sleep.

Your plan doesn’t work. Every time you’re about to drift off, the same line of static cuts through you, jolting you awake. It’s useless.

Fuck, Keigo is such a hard ass.

You’ll never sneak out again after this. Why couldn’t he just beat your ass like he mentioned before? You’d gladly take that over this any day.

You guess that’s the point of all this.

You want to throw all logic out the window, but you’re starting to understand that if he went through all of this to try to teach you a lesson, then he really must be at wit’s end. Is all of this really because you just wouldn’t listen to him?

———

You’re finally at your breaking point when Keigo lifts the cloth from your eyes. He takes the headphones off, but you can still hear the low humming of the static in the back of your mind. Even with the headphones off, you still can’t get away from it.

Fully defeated, you look up at Keigo with snot running from your nose and tears dripping down your face.

“You learn your lesson yet, or do I have to put the headphones back on while I have breakfast without you?”

He takes the duct tape off of your mouth so you can respond.

“I’m sorry, Keigie! I won’t sneak out ever again. Please, please, please, no more! I don’t want anymore static!”

Keigo raises his hands in mock surrender before untying you from the kitchen chair. He pulls you into a strong hug, rubbing your back comfortingly.

“I hated doing that to you. I really did. Please, don’t sneak out again. It’s serious. I wouldn’t have any clue if you ended up in a dangerous situation. I love you, Baby Bird.”

Leaning into his chest, you wrap your arms around him.

“I love you too, Keigie.”

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rae-gar-targaryen · 1 year

Text

only smile in the dark [matt murdock x fem!reader]

A/N: Written for my darling Pheebs for our Discord’s Dicked-Down-December event.

Summary: You and your sometimes-antagonist, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, are snowed in together – in his apartment of all places – after he gets you out of a jam. Will the two of you survive the night? Or will you find some common ground?

Pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!black cat!reader (reader is a cat burglar and a minor antagonist to Matt Murdock, based on Felicia Hardy)

Word Count: 5.9k of the warm blanket of being snowed-in with your vigilante nemesis, of traded quips and loose lips.

Warnings: p-in-v sex, so 18+ ONLY, unprotected sex, sensory overload, dirty talk, oral (fem!receiving) not-so-hateful hatefucking, mild enemies to lovers, mild bondage, sacrilegious dialogue.

“We have got to stop meeting like this.”

You rolled your eyes beneath your Domino mask as you braced yourself for the approaching footsteps that carried the object of your annoyance from behind you and into your view, bent over the safe as you were, hand poised to deliver the final crack.

Sure enough, onto your field of view came the crimson boots (and everything else attached to them) of your – was arch-nemesis too dramatic? – your whatever he was… Erstwhile annoyance. Masked menace. Devastating devil. – No, not devastating. Stop it.

You spun on your heel, flipping the long hair of the silver wig over your shoulder.

“Hi, Devil-Boy,” you curled your fingers in a flirtatious little wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

He scoffed, stopping in front of you and crossing his arms over his chest. You could just imagine the disapproval in his eyes behind the foggy cherry glass of the mask.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he gestured to the grandiose room. Here. The study in Fisk’s Hell’s Kitchen-based secondary office. Where you had made your mark to pick up some valuable information for a client (and maybe some valuable stones in the safe – call it a finder’s fee – for yourself). You'd certainly made a name for yourself as one of the most proficient cat burglars – ugh, you'd hated that phrase … try proficient diamond thief – in the city.

You prided yourself on remaining undetected. On the quick inside time for your deliverables. But, well, sometimes… unfortunate incidents occurred.

“And you should?” you raised an eyebrow at your current unfortunate incident, replete with horned mask. You propped a hip against the desk of this ostentatious office, pretending to examine your manicured nails through the black leather of your gloves. “Tell me, Red-Dead, what’s the going rate for your oh-so-noble vigilantism? I guarantee it isn't as high as for my services. So let's not waste my time. Is this the part where you ask me, ‘What’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?’”

The devil from your dreams, whom you'd had the unfortunate misfortune to run into on several nights just like this one stepped toward you. Head slightly inclined, as though he were a bull gearing up to charge. And if you had been one of those arms-dealing goons he beat up on the regular, or perhaps a Russian mobster, or a Fisk goon, you might have felt intimidated.

No. Your run-ins with the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had been much more – could you call them pleasant? He had broken up a few of your smaller-time heists, letting you off with a slap on the wrist after a tussle that had left you weak in the knees. And who wouldn’t be? After trading quips and blows – don’t think about ‘blows’ – with a man whose firm thighs between your own felt as though they could crack walnuts when you had rolled on top of him during a prior fight. Whose suit made his chest look that much more expansive.

No, your exchanges were coy and cloying. And they ended much the same: in a half-hearted tease of a fight that left you with an ache between your legs and his sinful, syrupy voice warning you that he "wouldn't let you off so easy next time" reverberating through your ears for the rest of the night. That left you with the lingering temptation to slide your hands beneath your expensive covers when you were safely back in your lush apartment, imagining his hands instead of yours gliding through your glistening folds. Imagining his voice, still in your ear.

Wondering if he was imagining you. If he dreamt of the way you teasingly left a trail of crimson lipstick smeared up the cheek of his mask as you dragged your lips there, murmuring that this was no way to treat a lady. If he imagined the way you flexed your fingers, like a cat's claws, up the expanse of his chest when you bested him in a fight, wishing you could feel the drag of your nails along his skin instead of his armoured suit. If the click of your heeled boots as you sauntered through an open window – tossing him a wink before slipping away into the night – reverberated in his mind.

You supposed you would never know.

The energy between the two of you had always been thick, like dusky clouds impregnated with rain in a summer storm – waiting to fall, waiting to devastate. Stuffed with the smell of sagebrush and cleansing promise.

And if you’d managed a successful little robbery? Well, were you disappointed if he didn’t show up to chase you off with pulled punches and heaving chest? –

“Oh no, sweetheart,” He smiled, snapping you from your risqué reveries with a sardonic grin of bared teeth beneath his mask. “I know what kind of girl you are. And I know what you’re doing in a place like this. No need to ask.”

“That's disappointing. Of all the so-called heroes running around this city in Spandex, like a bunch of moral high ground losers, I don't know why I ended up with you. And I don’t know why you insist on trying to get in my way,” you hissed through the bared teeth of a forced grin. “I’m a perfectly reasonable girl, Devil. I don’t get in your way. You shouldn’t get in mine.”

“Honey, this isn’t Spandex.” He half-heartedly made to reach for you with an outstretched hand – which you swatted in kind, procuring a small blade with your other hand and bringing it to his throat.

He swallowed, the edge of your blade snicking against the skin of his throat as he swallowed.

“I can’t just,” he began, swallowing once more before swatting at your wrist with a gloved hand, knocking the blade away from his throat, and boxing you into the desk, “I can’t just let you take shit that doesn’t belong to you. And girls like you don’t play nice.”

“You could, Devil. And so could I,” you shrugged, meeting the glass eyepieces of his mask with wide, doe eyes of your own, fluttering your lashes. “I’d be ever-so-grateful if you just let this one slide?” You glanced out the window, inclining your head at the thick, fluttering flakes that were starting to fall in the New York chill. “I’ve gotta get home, and, baby, it’s cold outside.”

"You –" the Devil stopped himself, tilting his head like a dog listening to a whistle only he could hear, full lips parting as he took in whatever it was he was hearing.

"D-" you began, curious about his sudden pause, trying not to prickle like a skittish cat.

"Shut. Up.," he hissed, snatching your wrist and tugging you from your spot by the desk, marching you past the exposed face of the safe you had been stopped from cracking, and toward the wide window of the office. "They're here."

"Who's here?" You questioned, attempting to tug your wrist free from his tightening hold, to no avail.

The Daredevil appraised you, the tilt of his mask indicating a sweeping survey of your person before continuing,

"Fisk's men. All of them. And they're looking for you. I think you've been set up, sweetheart… Yeah, that's," he swallowed. "That's a lot of heartbeats downstairs. And outside." More to himself than you.

You raised a brow at him again, sardonic. Heartbeats? Doing your best to bite down the panic currently climbing within you with the thin veneer of a sneering grin.

"Then let go of me and let me get out of here," you tugged at your wrist in his grip.

"That's not gonna work, kitten," he responded, wryly. "We've only got a few seconds. I can get you outta here, but you've gotta trust me."

"Trust you?" You hissed, "The guy who tries to turn me in after every little tango? How about …" you tapped a spare finger to your chin, as though deep in thought, "hell no."

"We don't have time for this," he pleaded. "I'm not gonna sell you out to Fisk," he sneered the name through a curled lip. "I'd rather rot."

You studied him for the barest moment, the tenseness in his shoulders at the approaching threat. The warmth of his grip around you, even though the gloves. The clear, demonstrable distaste for Fisk evident in his voice, in the exposed lower-half of his face, the set of his jaw. How he’d always let you go before.

"Fine," you whispered. "I'm trusting you. On a probationary basis. Get me somewhere safe."

Which was how you found yourself stealing away on snow-covered rooftops, the packed powder muffling your steps, and all traces of your journey wiped away in the weather. As you shivered in your bodysuit behind the man leading you through a rooftop window and into an expansive loft space. An apartment.

You strode into the open space of a living room, eyeing the wide windows and exposed brick.

“Nice digs, Devil,” you whistled. “This, like, your safe-house?”

“No,” his voice echoed not-so-distantly behind you as he also made his way down the stairs and into the common area. “Though that would have been much smarter.”

“Don’t tell me you live here?” You whirled around as you watched the Devil remove his gloves, tossing them into a trunk and exposing fine-boned, long-fingered hands, shrugging his shoulders at you, turning his head as if to gesture to the now-storm outside.

“Not up to your standards?” He mocked. “Sorry. It’s not exactly the Plaza. But it was close by. And no one will know you’re here.”

You perched yourself on the edge of his couch, feeling distinctly out of place in a lived-in place with your catsuit, wig, and mask. A clash of ideals. Not unlike you and the man before you.

“Is it wise,” you arched your brow at him, voice acerbic, “to bring someone like me into your home …?”

You leaned forward on the couch, eyeing a stack of mail and papers on the coffee table. And though the Devil seemed to be observing your plain-sight snooping, he made no move to stop you. You leaned forward,

“Matt Murdock,” you finished, reading the name off of the envelopes. Why was that name familiar to you?

The Devil – Matt Murdock – removed his helmet, allowing you to take in the man behind the mask. Pretty dark hair, matted by the helmet, a strong jaw, full lips. Fringed lashes framing hazel eyes that seemed to … look right past you.

Oh.

“Well I suppose my identity remains intact,” you tried to gently tease, removing your Domino mask and your wig, settling yourself into his couch, as he made to remove the rest of his stiff armour.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, kitten,” he turned to face you again, breezing past you through the space and clattering with a tea kettle, of all things.

While the kettle brewed, he scooped a Braille paper from the countertop, slapping it down in front of you, and reading your father’s last name from the headline.

“And here you are,” he finished, “the daughter of a tycoon who likes to get her rocks off stealing Upper East Siders’ jewelry. Moonlighting as a cat burglar. I’ve known since we met.”

Your breath hitched, your eyes trailing over Matt’s form. The evenness of his voice. He was confident, assured. No question in his assessment of you. You’d balk at it, at the fear that should prickle through you at knowing who you were. But… he hadn’t done anything with that information til now, had he?

“In that alleyway behind that stuffy old coot’s apartment?” You queried.

“Oh, sure,” he eased. “Girl like you doesn’t often go to that part of town. I recognized your perfume. And the way you sound walking in heels. Like I said, we’ve met before.”

You lifted yourself from the couch easily, swooping past Matt to kick off your heeled boots by the door. You may as well make yourself comfortable, follow his lead, if he wasn’t going to kick you out into the snow or otherwise turn you in. Easing into his kitchen to remove the now-whistling kettle from the heat, processing where you might know Matt Murdock from.

“We didn’t go on a date, surely? I might have remembered. You’re certainly handsome, though I’m sure you hear that all the time.”

Matt chuckled at that, a dry, wry rumble from his throat, as he scruffed the back of his sweaty neck with his palm, using his other hand to unstick the clinging fabric of his undersuit from his skin.

“No,” he snorted. “We didn’t go out. I’d definitely remember if we had,” he accepted the cup of tea you now passed him.

“Then …” you eyed him over the rim of your own mug, which boasted, in loud text “World’s Best Lawyer.”

It clicked.

“Matt Murdock,” you breathed, “the attorney with a hard-on for bringing down Wilson Fisk. Yeah, you were –”

“At the gala. That political event for bigwigs who wanted to raise money for their campaigns to sweep crime out of Hell’s Kitchen. We met,” his sentences were punctuated. “Briefly. Your dress was killer, by the way.”

“How…?” You made to ask just how the blind, humble pro bono lawyer from the nighttime news could exactly tell that you looked killer in your Yves Saint Laurent gown. Or how he could pull off that ninja shit night after night.

“Devil’s gotta have his secrets, sweetheart,” he eased, fixing you with a cheeky wink.

Trying to figure the Devil – Matt Murdock – was like trying to catch light in your fingertips as though it were a tangible thing. Toying with dust motes that appeared when you opened the blinds in a dark room. Impossible, devastating, however pretty it may be. And Matt was a do-gooder. Trying to make the city better.

Whereas, you…

A bored little rich girl whose job wasn’t exactly above-board. No, the light seemed to be ever out of your reach – dooming you to a life of shadow. Of secrecy. So, you could respect that he wanted to keep his.

“Fine,” you rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me. I can take the couch, then. I’ll be outta your hair by morning”

You made to settle yourself into the cushions, as though you were queuing him to leave.

“Please, sweetheart,” Matt urged, coming to stand before you now, his hands making their way to your hips.

And it was different from the ways in which he had touched you before – different from your traded blows and quips. Different from the way he would swat at your ass playfully during a fight. Different from the playful tension laden in his voice when he encountered you before. And yet – it was the same. As though all of those run-ins were building to something.

And yeah, it was no secret you enjoyed teasing the Devil. Enjoyed taunting him, toying with him, allowing your touch to linger too long when you departed from him on any given evening. But Matt?

You eyed the crucifix peeking its way from his tight undershirt.

What an altar boy, you thought. No way he would actually want someone like you. Someone who toyed with people with bored, careless fingertips. Someone who broke things because she wanted to.

You allowed yourself to be brought into Matt’s arms,

“At least take the bed,” he urged, finally. “I’ll find you some sweats.”

You snorted at that.

“You just wanna get me out of my suit,” you teased. Eager to restore the balance to what you knew – the quipping banter of antagonists, and not this … blooming flush between the two of you, reflected on the apples of his cheeks at your quip. At the thought of getting you naked.

“I mean,” he recovered. “You say that like it’d be a bad thing.”

“I suspect,” you murmured, trailing your fingers over the peaks of Matt’s face, while his hands tightened on your waist, “that you’re smoother than you let on, Matthew Murdock.”

Matt’s lips met yours then, causing your eyes to flutter shut and snatching the breath from your lungs. He kissed you as though you were sacrosanct. As though the movement of his lips over yours was a prayer he had recited hundreds of times, and would recite hundreds more. At your gasp, he slid his tongue into your mouth, his hands coming to cup your face as he kissed you.

You allowed your hands to roam his body, to feel the firmness of his chest unencumbered by the Devil suit, to appreciate the warmth, the realness of his beating heart beneath the skin of your palms through his thin shirt.

You could barely contain yourself, as the storm raged outside, it building inside of you with every pass of Matt’s hands along your form, with every press of his lips to yours. And it seemed the same was true for Matt.

His hands found his way to the front of your catsuit, easing the zipper down with a smooth, zinging slide, allowing his fingertips to ease in to trail along the skin as it became exposed.

Oh. And if the heat of the room hadn’t been building before, you could certainly feel it now, as you allowed yourself to explore Matt in kind, whimpering at the touch of his hands along the curves of your breasts, the ridges of your ribs. Pulling your lips from his and allowing your eyes to wander as your hands trailed to his waist and to the front of his pants, stroking the outline of his hardness there with tentative touch.

"Not here," Matt's lips left your skin from where they had since been working on your neck, murmuring into your throat. At your quizzical groan, he continued. "Don't be petulant, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck you. Just not here."

In a flurry of feverish movement and stripped layers, Matt had ushered you into his bedroom, urging you down onto his mattress, his lips never leaving yours as he guided you on top of him, with nothing but your panties and a feverish grin as you rolled your hips over Matt’s, relishing in the feel of him, as you knew he was doing to you.

You scratched along his skin with your nails, kissing and sucking his neck as you continued to grind yourself on Matt’s clothed cock.

Quick as a flash, Matt flipped the two of you, a groan catching in his throat at the feel of the weight of you beneath him now, pulling your lips from him and allowing himself to appreciate you, in his bed, in his home …

Matt's fingers stroke along the peak of your cheekbone in a reverent way, a way befitting of a devout man. But the silken touch is also wrong -- it doesn't bely that he's not the sort of man who wraps a hand around your throat when he fucks you (he would), or like he's not the sort of man who gets down on his knees to unravel you with his clever, silver tongue (he is).

But the clean baritone of his voice an ever- pleasant rumble that caressed and ensnared you. Every time you meet. But especially now.

“I’m going to fuck you, sweetheart.”

You could melt. That's the Devil you were expecting.

Matt had removed his shirt, arms crossed as he lifted the fabric from his delightfully muscled torso. Your fingers keen to follow as you trace the planes of his chest.

Your nails caught along the edge of his nipples as your palms skated their way upward, reveling in the choked gasp that ripped its way through his throat at the feeling.

Matt cupped your face with firm hands, guiding you down into his plush, satin-y comforter as his mouth devoured yours. The fabric sang along your skin as you allowed yourself to sink beneath his spell – a servant to the Devil’s whims, as Matt’s hands trailed along your body.With clever tongue – which really could only benefit him as an attorney, right? – and teasing touch, he seemed intent on unraveling you without so much as posing a question. Matt’s heated fingers made their way along your own bare chest, exposed to the wintery-coolness of the room, your nipples pebbling.

You choked on gasps as he made his way down your body, his mouth trailing from yours, to your neck, pressing kisses to your breasts and laving his tongue around your nipple before rendering one with a particularly cruel suck, departing with lips more swollen than before, the popping noise echoing in both of your ears.

And you wondered if the heaving of your chest, the headiness of your breath, was overwhelming to him. In the way that he was overwhelming to you.

Overwhelming was a good word for it. As thick fingers drew their way across the seam of lace adorning your clothed slit, causing you to wriggle in his grasp, the reciprocal shudder from Matt’s body was all the confirmation you needed. He was just as turned on as you.

Turned on by the feel of your skin beneath his fingertips. Wrecked by the sound of your gasps in his ears. Besotted with the taste of you beneath his tongue. Intoxicated by the feeling of your mouth on his.

He had been afraid this would happen with you. Had he learned nothing from before? With Ele– not the time.

And Matt felt everything to an impossible degree, he knew. But if only he knew how it was almost flattering to have it confirmed for you ... if the way he was now slowly bucking his hips into the bedspread when you threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged was any indication. Seeking friction that would feel far rougher, far better, than it had any business feeling, thanks to his heightened senses.

“I’ll give you what you want,” he murmured, keening into your tugging touch while he worked his way down the planes and curves of your body.

Grinding himself into the bed as he went, as he buried himself in the cleft of your thighs, the flash of his hot tongue like cracking summer lightning, jolting through you from the very center as he licked a long, sweet stripe along the seam of your clothed cunt.

And it seemed reciprocal, you noted, as he rolled his hips into his bedspread in kind – taking in the feel of you beneath his fingertips as your hips and thighs rolled and writhed beneath his attentions as he continued to lick you. The song of your whimpers sweetly ringing through your ears as he felt himself harden in his boxers.

Thick fingers traced the slick, heated flesh of your center as you felt Matt draw the lace away from you, your arousal clinging to your panties in glistening strands as he pulled them to the side with something like reverence. Fully baring you to him.

And if you’d thought the first hinting taste of his mouth on you, your clothed cunt, was heavenly – saintlike and sweet, you had never imagined he could make you feel like this – The lavish, attention with which he was now devouring you, your bared slit. Matt's mouth worked your pussy, like singing a hymn, like an apostle breaking his fast – a man of singular focus. Possessed by the scent of your arousal, the taste of your slick on his tongue as he continued to work you.

It was enough to make you infatuated. Obsessed with the devil you longed to know.

The feel of him was like the slow drip and drizzle of honey, the snap of cinnamon – warm, sweet, and tingling. Swirling tongue and sickly heat.

"Come on, devil, give it to me bad," you purred, teasing the man beneath you with a buck of your hips, reveling in the sensation and rolling them up, seeking the friction you craved, your hands still in his hair. Losing yourself in the repetitive feel of heady, sweet attentions of his tongue.

A particularly clever lick-and-suck tore a moan from your throat, prompting Matt to part from you, to pause the moment to allow himself to savor all of his senses – his own chest heaving and cheeks flushed with the attention he had wrought on you.

“I’ll give it to you, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to your thigh, chasing it with a nip of teeth. “Only if you’ll be sweet.”

You rolled your eyes, head lolling against the feathery plush of the Devil – Matthew’s – pillow, “I said I would, didn’t I?” You puffed, exasperation coloring your voice, rolling your hips again.

You made to tug Matthew up to you, urging his hips with the legs you had wrapped around him, trying to tug him with willing arms and wanton fingertips.

It punched the air from your lungs when Matthew struck – like a coiled viper wrapping its body around its prey – warm, dangerously snug, as he rolled his body up and over yours, gripping your wrists in one of his firm hands, bringing them up and over your head, rendering you helpless to him.

And the feel of him above you, heated and firm, a wall of muscle leaving you immobile beneath him – reciprocal to him, as he relished in your softness, your pliance. Like a curving crescent moon bends for the sky.

“Close your eyes, kitten,” he purred, his lips gracing the shell of your ear, a tempest rumbling in his chest, urging its way through his voice.

And you had no choice to obey.

Allowing your eyelids to flutter shut as you acquiesced to your other senses overtaking you, the silken feel of one of Matthew’s – was it a tie? Something he’d wear to court? – traipsing over the bare skin of your arms. Up, up, up as it closed around the wrists still held over your head. Matthew was tying you to his headboard. And you were letting him.

You were sure Matt didn't mind. You could just imagine the sharp half-grin that quirked onto his face at the feel of you tied to his bed, his skin beneath yours. His smile was cold, quick, assured. Devilish.

You had accepted earlier in the night that you would never truly know all of Matt Murdock. Whether he was the Devil, or not. That there were parts of his personhood he wouldn't deign to share. Those things weren't for you, after all. But you couldn't quite bring yourself to care at this moment, when he shared what was simultaneously everything and enough, as he held you on the edge after licking your pussy like a man starved, his hardness pressing to your center through his boxers as he loomed over you now.

The rasp of his hands trailing up the smooth skin of your torso sang beneath his palms; the faintest of whispers to you, but a chorus of amorous intention to Matt Murdock's perfect ears.

"Tell me everything you feel," Matt whispered, snugly affixing the knot to your wrists, pressing a kiss to the tender skin there and affirming they weren’t bound too tightly.

“And what do you feel Matt?" you couldn't resist the urge to sass back as you indulged in the sight of your now-paramour peeling his boxers from his body, taking his length into his own hand and stroking himself to the sight of you tied to his bed.

"I feel … Everything. But I wanna hear it from you,” Matt took your sass as acquiescence, allowing his free hand to rove the planes and curves of your stomach and waist, to drag themselves through the wetness gathered at your center –retreating with your slick on his fingers. “I won't give you what you want until you tell me what I want to know," he paused, allowing your eyes to linger on him before he sucked his own finger into his full lips to taste you once more.

“You’re like honey, honey.”

Your residual whimper at the sinful sight before you was something Matt was sure he would re-play in his mind over and over on the nights he had trouble sleeping – he had a lot of those.

“I’ll tell you, baby,” you assured. “Please, just fuck me.”

And who was Matt to refuse such a polite request? Your legs spread for him, the crotch of your panties tugged to the side, the sound of your heaving chest, your blood thrumming beneath your veins, heated and singing for him. Of your wrists straining against his necktie – how much more could a man take?

Matt took himself into his hand once more, spreading the glistening lips of your pussy and guiding himself into your heat, rolling his hips to allow himself to be seated fully inside of your tightness – a broken groan shattering its way through his throat, his lashes fluttering.

You whimpered at the fullness of him inside of you.

“You feel…,” Matt trailed off, his breath hitching, as you rolled your hips to meet his, cunning and keyed.

“Like heaven?” You teased, voice full of mirth, and perhaps a bit of pride at rendering the man above you speechless.

“That’s sacrilegious,” Matt breathed, as he began to thrust into you in earnest.

“What’s a little light sacrilege between sinners, Devil?” You hiccupped, your wrists straining as you urged to grasp any part of the man above you, the drag of him inside of you more than you could bear, the heat between the two of you, the tingling pleasure inside of you, building – ever-building…

“Yeah?” Matt breathed, “You want me to make you see God?”

“Forget it.” You would have been embarrassed at the keening whine that Matt’s attentions were wringing from you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to give any semblance of a damn, so long as he kept doing that. “Fuuuuuck,” you whined, “who wants that when I have the devil in my bed?"

"You like that," Matt murmured in your ear, as he thrummed at your clit in time with his trusts.

It wasn't a question.

Mesmerized, stupefied, you stuttered a cracked, “Y-yes.” You tugged your wrists against where they’re tied to the bed, your senses leaving you as you longed to touch him, to push, to give back to him as good as you were getting. You weren’t used to being in the passenger seat.

"You like that I'm bad, as long as I'm good to you, that how it works?" Matt crooned.

“Fuck, Matt,” you whined, “stop toying with me and make me come,” you pleaded.

“Yeah?” he parroted, “You mean like you toy with me? Can you be a good girl? You're supposed to tell me what you feel." Clearly referencing the way you were still straining your wrists at your bonds, raising an eyebrow at your defiance. Nevertheless, he would acquiesce.

Matt’s thumb was circling your clit in time with his thrusts before breaking from you, skating his heated palm up your body to your heaving tits, pinching your nipple as he continued to fuck you toward your peak.

“Mhmm,” you whined, your head tilting back, pressed into Matt’s pillows. Pressed into his sheets – the scent of you, the essence of you, embedding itself there – certain, Matt thought, to haunt him for many nights after this one.

"You feel …" your breath hitched at the ferocity of his thrusts, doing your best to keep your voice even, the edge of a whine skirting it. Though you were sure Matt could tell. "You feel so good, baby. You're so good. I l-love the way your cock feels inside of me. M-make me come, Matty, please?"

And who was he to refuse such a request? Your praises flooded Matt's ears, prickling in his blood, as he turned his attention back to your clit then, reveling in the feel of you tightening around him as he fucked you to your approaching climax.

“C’mon, kitten,” he urged, “c’mon then,” relinquishing your hip from his bruising grip, he brought his hand up, gripping your throat to feel the reverberation of your release through the song of your skin, melting into his. The clever fingers of his other hand stroking your clit as you shattered beneath him, your release soaking his cock, your pussy like a vice around him as you worked your way through the blinding heat of your orgasm. Matthew’s release following at the overwhelming sensation of you, the wet heat of constricting his every sense as he allowed himself to let go. Discipline melding to desire as he filled you. Fucking himself into you through his own orgasm.

“Whoa,” you exhaled, as Matthew allowed himself to slump over you as his pulsing release gently subsided, the flutter of your lashes along his skin as he shuffled his now heavy and tired arms up to release you from his headboard.

He rolled to the side of you, skin sliding against satin sheets as he pulled you to him.

“And to think,” you murmured, massaging the skin of your wrists and pressing a kiss to Matthew’s temple, settling in beside him, “we could have been doing that the entire time.

He hmm’d into your skin in agreement, nuzzling your neck with his nose, pressing a kiss to the tender skin beneath your ear.

“Getting here was fun,” he acquiesced, allowing you to feel the curve of his smiling lips against the skin of your neck. "There's a fine line between –"

"Don't you dare say 'love and hate,'" you groaned.

Matthew smiled again, rolling to press his lips to yours in a teasing kiss.

"I was going to say 'between fucking and fighting,' but if you love me…"

"Shut up," you shoved his shoulder, knowing he could appreciate a little extra force behind your touch. "I hate you, Matthew."

He stilled, and you worried for the briefest moment that you had gone too far. You didn't actually hate him, after all. Surely, he had to know that…

"Say it again," his hands cupped your face gently as his mossy eyes glimmered in the low light of his room. "My name, sweetheart. Say it again?"

"Matthew," you sighed, trailing your hands through his hair, pleased with the silken feel of his strands between delicate fingers, as though he was always meant to be touched by you. You eased up to press a kiss to his lips. "Mystifying, magnificent, magnanimous Matthew."

He sighed in contentment, before quirking his lips at you, tilting his head into your touch, "And what does that make you?"

"Murderous," you quipped, flashing a toothy grin that he could hear through the falling darkness in his bedroom, through the heated drip in your voice. "And what'll you do about it, devil-boy?"

“You know I’ll catch you,” he breathed, allowing himself to ease beside you, the heavy weight of his limbs, of the feeling of you, soothing him. Your collective easy breathing allowing him to begin to lull…

The last thing Matthew heard was your sardonic singsong, “Promises, promises…” toying in his ears as he drifted off to sleep, the weighted heat of you in his arms – real, full, and flush.

And when Matt awoke, in the early hours of the morning, to the frigid, crisp smell of fresh-fallen snow, he felt it, singing in his nose through the glass of the windows in his apartment. Untouched, unblemished. And he felt – emptiness. His apartment was devoid of heat, of pulse – other than his own. As Matt realized that you had gone sometime in the night. The fresh-fallen snow covering your tracks from the fire escape as you had slipped away. Through his fingers, yet again.

He scrubbed his face with his hand, his phone pinging with a notification as he urged his software to read the text,

“See you real soon, Devil. Next time I tie you up.”

Oh, Foggy was never going to believe this.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @drew-garfi @p3mybeloved @spidervee @maxmayfield @xbamboowishesx @wicked-blathers @jadore-andor @mrshipsmcgee @abibliophobiaa @friendly-neighborhood-blondie @mortwig @squiddtheekidd @lilacvine @liz-allyn @renaroo123 @blooming-violets @inklore @clints-lucky-arrow @lucy-sky @flightlessangelwings @vaxxildan @ouralcohol @thatredheadwriter @moonlight-prose @zombieaurora @andrewrussgarfield @aphrogeneias @luxuryberzatto @ifimayhaveaword @phoenixhalliwell @wvndasmaximoff @deskofninak @levylovegood @holyheadharpies99 @papaya-047 @alexxavicry

#matt murdock x reader #my writing #only smile in the dark #matt murdock #charlie cox #matt murdock x you #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil smut #matt murdock smut #marvel fic #daredevil fic #matt murdock x fem!reader

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bangtanfancamp · 1 year

Text

Headed to the Mountains |KNJ

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•one shot

•Masterlist

•pairing: songwriter Kim Namjoon x oc with chronic pain

•word count: 3,465

•genre: escapism, hurt/comfort, smut, established relationship

•rating: MATURE/ 18+

•warnings: current event commentary, somewhat anti- American sentiment (I live in Texas so I see a lot of mess first hand 🫤 it’s my country but my god, it’s messy), stress, chronic pain, high sensitivity, sensory issues, first person voice, smut smut smutty smut, oral (female receiving and male), tandem oral, smex, doggy style?, Namjoon’s big brain during smex, smut with feelings and a lot of thoughts (as usual) ((all my air sign placements really coming out to play

•a/n: idk what this is, besties, besides extremely unedited and wildly indulgent. I may change the voice out of first person and all the “i’s” to “you’s” but it’s up the way it’s up for now. 🤷🏽‍♀️The world is just a horrifying place right now, especially in the US, and I just wanted to write something that felt like a small refuge, spend a little time some place that felt better, so we’re back in Namjoon’s living room. Also, who better to escape into the woods and away from reality with than the founder of namjooning himself ((also also, that bit about Pennsylvania was 100% true. It’s wild here, man))

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“I cannot get comfortable for the life of me,” I huff grumpily.

It’s a Monday night, late in March. The threat of rain has been looming for hours. Despite its sudden absence in the forecast when I check the weather app, I can still feel it in my bones. In the raw, creaky way my joints scrape against each other. The way the inflammation in my body burns like fire ants beneath my skin.

Namjoon is quick to notice from across the room.

“This weather’s been making your body feel like hell this spring.”

“Yeah, I hate to begrudge it though. Winter was even worse.”

“Gosh, it really was huh?” He frowns at the laptop screen on his desk. He’s got the tiniest beanie shoved on his very big head but somehow, it works. The tips of his hair peak past the beanie’s brim, brushing the mussed hair of his furrowed eye brows. “God, I can’t stand to stare at a screen a second longer.”

He peels his gold rimmed glasses off his nose, rubbing the little indentions they've made along the bridge and pressing his fingers into his closed eye sockets. I can tell he’s exhausted and miserable too about how much energy life seems to require of him these days.

“I’m going to scoop you up and make you the most comfortable woman in the world, I promise. Just give me like three minutes.” He tips back in his desk chair, the spine of it sliding out to a wide reclined angle as his long legs stretch out in front of him.

“Why did we spend so much money on a couch that’s not even comfortable, joonie?” I whine, shifting once again.

“Because the last one was even less comfortable than this one,” he reminds me, “and at least this one is cognac leather,” he shrugs. “It’s comfy on the eyes at least”

“Well I need it to be comfy for my bones.” I grunt, shoving yet another throw pillow out of your way. “Maybe we should pick up and move to the shore, like in a regency novel. I think the air would be good for me. I wonder if American healthcare accepts existential dread and deep chronic pain as enough of a reason to just financially support us until I turn to dust.”

“You and your TikTok algorithm both know as well as I do that America will do no such thing,” Namjoon chuckles with his eyes closed.

“I know…. But they should take at least some culpability. God knows most of my health problems probably exist BECAUSE of them.” I slide the strap of my bra and shirt off my shoulder, not because I want to be a seductress but because the elastic is cutting into my throbbing right trap muscle and if I don’t get some of the tension off of it, I might scream.

“Right? Did you hear about the latex spill in the Delaware river yesterday? The entire city of Philadelphia doesn’t have usable drinking water right now. My friend there literally got a text message about it from the city strongly recommending every use bottled water only until

Further notice. One and a half million people woke up to that text Message! It’s insane.” Namjoon pulls his oversized hood up over his beanie as he looks up at the ceiling, ankles crossed beneath the desk.

“Lord, haven’t we lived through enough of this? I’m so tired, joonie.” I can hear how pitiful I sound. To his credit, he treats me just the same as when I sound intellectually astute and strong. I’ve always liked that about him.

“If the world is going to hell in a hand basket anyway, maybe we should look into a- moving internationally and b- signing up for a payment plan on one of those YouTube influencer mattresses,” Namjoon tips his head my way, and suddenly my heart feels a little more light.

“Ooo, the helix?“ I smile, for perhaps the first time tonight.

His dark eyes twinkle in the low evening lamplight.

“ I actually did some research and found one made out of avocados.”

“Is that as close as I can get now that my body has decided it’s allergic to Avos?”

Namjoon’s eyes crinkle as he laughs. “God, your body would find a way to betray you like that wouldn’t it?”

“It’s not my fault I’m too delicate for this world,” I shrug.

“I forget you were born inside a flower that protected you from the world with its petals until it bloomed, thumbelina.”

“If I could take a nap inside a peony right now, I’d do it in a heartbeat…. The pollen might be too much though.” I sigh.

“Come here,” Namjoon laughs, standing from his chair and extending his hand toward me.

“Where are you taking me?”

I slip my knuckles between his and knock against his shoulder with my head.

“To my bumblebee. Take you on a spin around the block” he winks.

“I’m surprised you didn’t say take a ride. It’s like the only lyric you use these days” I snicker, bumping the curve of my hip into his.

“You’re supposed to write what you know,” he shrugs.” It’s not my fault your hips are your area of expertise.”

He winks at me and god, if he took every piece of clothing off of me right now, I’d ride him in a heartbeat.

Shit. Knowing him, he can probably feel my response to him without even looking at me. Sure enough, he looks down, smiling until his dimples dip in his cheeks, and damn it, I’m so captivated by the focaccia dough dips in his face that I stumble into the corner of the wall. My hip catches and I yelp, more embarrassed than in pain.

“Shh, hey, I got you.”

That calm voice of his is so low right now as his palm curves around the dip in my hip that got nicked by the wall. I tip into his long, warm torso and let him guide me into the bedroom. I’m clearly too disoriented and agitated to make it here without careening into something else and frustrating myself, so I’m happy for the assistance. Besides, being scooped up in Namjoon’s substantial hands is never a bad place to be.

“Thanks, baby. I needed that.”

I press my temple into his chest, kiss his ribs. Marvel at the resistance of muscle I feel beneath his soft green shirt. I press my nose into the fabric and let the warmth of him calm me. His other hand strokes soft knuckles along my jaw. His touch is so light and sweet - I feel my shoulders drop as he does it.

“Pick me up?” I whisper, eyes lifting softly to look up at him from where I’m pressed into his chest.

His hands slide up my sides, palms pressed into my waist as he lifts me. The soft grunt he makes as my thighs wrap around his ribs makes something in my brain feel a little fuzzy. Life is better like this, I think. Our faces nuzzled cheek to cheekbone, his hands fitted beneath my thighs, mine trailing softly through the silky bits of his hair peeking out of the back of his beanie as my arms drape over his shoulders like fabric. I can feel the knot of tension in the middle of my spine begin to untie itself as I melt into him. God, I’m so happy he exists.

“Where would you like to go, princess?”

Namjoon kisses the top of my ear, and that fuzzy tingle in my brain is back.

“What are my options?”

I press my lips softly to his throat in light, meditative kisses. They’re more like delicate exhales. My tongue barely tips out to taste his skin. Just a touch. Just a taste. Sleepy and slow because that’s all I have the energy for. His eyelids do that hazy half flutter that tells me he likes it enough to pretend he doesn’t so that I’ll keep going. I smile as he gently tips his head to the side, as if waiting for my answer, but really he’s just giving me more room to access that spot behind his ear that likes my lips. Let’s humor the man.

“We could go to the bed, the shower, the bath…” he gasps a little on the last word, the ah sound coming out too airy as I gently mouth at his pulse point and his grip on my thighs gets tense. “Or there’s a ….counter right here.” His head tips toward the half bath in the hallway as his fingers dig into the meat of my legs.

When I look up to meet his eyes, they’ve gone serpentine. Deep and dark and heavy as he holds me close. I can feel how shallow his breathing is becoming and I smile, sleepy and soft as he watches me.

“Take me to bed, Joonie.”

He’s kissing me before I can even finish his name.

He tips the door open with one of his feet before squeezing us both through the threshold of it. With his eyes closed and his tongue between my lips, he’s bound to crash into something and he does. He thunks an elbow, I knock my head, but in seconds, he’s cradling it where I’ve bumped the wall, spilling “sorry, I’ve got you, sorry,” onto my tongue as he pulls me in closer.

The spell doesn’t break.

He’s big and he’s bulky but he’s careful with me as he lays me on the bed and climbs over me. His mouth doesn’t leave mine even as he peels off each piece of my clothing. His movements are slow, his touch tender as he does.

Namjoon has learned how to soothe my body when it’s alert like this. Knows the cool air feels refreshing and crisp when my skin is hot with pain and sensitivity so he gets me naked with a deft touch. He knows the feel of his skin is grounding for me so that soft green shirt of his hits the floor. Knows I love his hair so the beanie goes next. Knows I love the strength in his thighs so his shorts are next as he tugs my hips down beneath his to let me wrap my legs around his slim waist.

I'm so wrapped up in the warmth of him that I don’t realize he’s tugged my silk pillowcase beneath my head. It’s cool when my head falls back and I smile, toothy and wide, as his plush lips sink into my skin. He’s at my collarbone now, then the volume of my breasts. His breath is warm, the air is cool and his substantial hands grip me firm like dough he’s being careful with as he kneads.

His cock brushes against me between my legs and the bright feeling it sends sparkling through me makes my breathing stutter.

“Joonie,” I shiver, and I can feel him smile against my skin. See his eyes flash up at me in the dark.

“We do too much, baby.” He breathes, voice smoky and low like the dragon he is.

I don’t know what he means. My critical thinking is losing its sharpness as he suckles warm and soft at the dip of my ribs.

“Too much?” I can feel my brows crumpling, but his tongue is so warm on my stomach that my hands dig into his shoulders without my consent.

He reaches up to brush one hand over mine.

“Shhh, easy. We’re trying to relax you, not tense you up.”

He’s smiling. I can barely see him but I can feel him and I know his grin would only dissolve me deeper into the mattress.

“We do too much, we deal with too much. God, your skin is too motherfucking much,” he squeezes me, latches his soft mouth onto my waist and tugs at the skin. I can feel the bruise blooming there, but he’s off and on to the next before I can even get words out. “Your body is always trying to process all of it, but it’s too much. Let me take care of some of it- let me help.”

When His tongue slips between my legs, his strong hands push my legs wide, press them down when he feels me buckle. His breath is so warm, his mouth is so molten, his nose on my clit is so gentle- it all leaves my body in an exhale. Tension drops off like melted wax and I feel myself go supple in his palms as I let him do what he wants with me.

“There’s been so much chaos. So much to deal with. So much to do. I just want to run away from it all with you.”

His tongue is languid as it works on me. The rush of warmth undoes the aches in my body better than a hot bath ever has.

“Then let’s go, Joonie. Where do you want to go? I’ll follow you anywhere.” And I mean it. They’re not lusty rambles. They’re not hollow words. I’d follow him to the edge of the world.

He puts that plump mouth of his over my clit and the gentle way he slurps me up melts my bones into soup broth and clears my head.

“You’ll let me take you anywhere?”

He looks up at me, his mouth never leaving his post, working me slowly as he waits for my reply. His mouth is so wet, his eyes are so sharp and my body is just another piece of music he’s learned how to perfect. I nod, bottom lip bit between my teeth and relax as much as I can as he composes a symphony between my legs. His smile folds the crinkles around his eyes, and his aura flickers between lovingly soft and steadily authoritative as he doubles down, wrapping his arms around my legs to scoop my hips up into his face and pressing into me, deeper, faster, harder.

I arch up when he does, gasping as my shoulders lift up, my fingers twist in the bedspread, my jaw goes slack. He’s really doing a number on me and all I want to do is say thank you and let him continue.

He slides up my body then, one hand behind my head bringing my forehead to his as the other grips my hip with enough pressure to split it apart as he tips his cock inside me in a way I didn’t know I needed. The sound is squelchy and wet and he smiles as his nose bumps against mine.

“You’ll follow me?”

He sounds cocky in a way he hasn’t in a while and a little piece of me loves it. His hips are fluid as his cock rocks in and out of me. All I can do is nod wildly, disoriented as I clutch him close to me. My legs are folded up, feet along his hips for purchase with my knees butterflied wide. I’d laugh at how much I must look like a frog if this didn’t feel so good. He’s got a hand beneath my bum, lifting my hips off the bend and gliding his cock so deep into me that surely my organs are all shifting wide like the Red Sea to make room for him.

“Wherever you want to go,” I hum, arms falling slack. I’ve lost the energy to hold on to him, but he’s got me held up so precious and tight that we’re still more intertwined than two fibers of thread in a tight knit sweater. I’ve fused into him and now every breath is in tandem.

“I’m gonna take my girl away from here.”

His thumb brushes my bottom lip and I feel myself flush at his tenderness.

“Yeah?” My eyes are wide, following his. He hovers above me, furrowed face sculpted with intensity and aggression as his body works mine into ecstasy. I’ve really acquiesced to the fact that I’m nothing more than a soft lump of clay in his hands that he’s working with precision. I’ve always wanted to be a work of art.

He slips my breast into his mouth like a lychee jelly, moaning at the feel of me tightening around him when he does it. Pumping harder, faster, deeper, only to pull out and dip his long fingers into the mess he’s made. He slathers it over all my sensitive bits, caressing with finesse as sparklers crackle in my vision.

When He pulls me up and into him, my face is pressed between his pecs and god, I can’t keep it together. I kiss them furiously as he works, clutching onto his arms, dragging my fingers down his abs as he slides his glossy fingers over my clit like he’s casting a spell. I can’t breathe… I can’t breathe… I can’t….

But I can because I have to- Namjoon won’t ease up until he gives me the sweet oxytocin of release by his hands and I wouldn’t have it any other way. So I dig deep and exhale slow and controlled, whimpering as he rockets past that orgasm to send me into preparing for the next one. He smirks like I’m his plaything and I comply with no resistance. I’ll have as many rounds as he gives me. I’m a big girl. I can handle- Oh!

At least, I thought I could handle anything. Naive me, I suppose.

I smile into the sheets when he tips me over onto all fours. He kisses my shoulders, kisses along my spine, brushing his thumbs on the folds on my hip, all tender and kind and syrupy sweet as the behemoth between his legs tips ever so slowly inside of me despite my incredible tightness, and I don’t know whether to breathe or scream so I press my face into the bedding and giggle like there’s something wrong with me.

“Take you somewhere quiet,” he slides in deeper. “With no noise,” he thrusts. “No news.” He thrusts. “Just nature.”

My chest feels tight with affection but my body feels limps like a rag doll as he pumps me silly. His gargantuan hands holding up my hips are the only thing keeping me from sliding off the bed and melting into the floorboards.

“Joonie, i’d- I’d love that,” soft puffs of air leave me with each fluid roll of his hips. The snap at the end of the graceful flourish knocks my skull a little loose but I don’t mind. Thinking so little is really quite nice.

“Take you for walks, lay with you in nature, fuck you like this in an outdoor bath tub while we watch the stars.”

His hand glides down my spine as he paints beautiful pictures with his words. My heart and my body don’t know which way is up.

“Escape all this chaos. At least for a little bit.” He smirks. I catch a glimpse of it as I look over my shoulder, reach back to hold his hand.

“I might never let you drag me back to the real world.” My smile is gooey, fond and so is his now. His dimples have come out - all his sincerity and heart on display, as his hips still even as he still fills me up.

“I can write poetry in the wild,” he shrugs. “My music would probably be better for it.”

He looks bashful and soft. The juxtaposition of his strong body and sweet face make me dip forward. He slides out of me, watching with confusion as I guide him to stand beside the bed.

When I flip onto my back, letting my head loll backwards off the bed in front of him, he arches a brow at me. I just chuckle and pull him forward by the back of his legs.

“Come here. I want to make my own music.”

I take the length of him into my mouth and he topples over, hands bracing on either side of me on the bed. He groans so sweet and low that I smile as I take him deep. His knees buckle when my nose tips softly against his balls as I suckle him slowly and it takes everything in me not to laugh at how happy I am.

His hands travel my body as his mouth occupies itself. He makes a meal of my breasts, takes a drink between my legs, holds my throat to lighten my breath. When we cum in tandem, he collapses to my side as we catch our breath in silence.

The night is still, the air is cool and rain is finally trickling against the windows.

Our bodies are spent and our plan is set.

We’ll run away soon enough.

But now, cradled breast to breast, we sleep knowing our world is just the smallest bit brighter.

#bts smut #kim Namjoon smut #rm smut #rapmonster smut #BTS fic #kim Namjoon fic #kim Namjoon comfort fic #kim Namjoon x you #kim Namjoon x reader #kim Namjoon x oc #kim namjoon x y/n #BTS x you #bts x female reader #kim Namjoon x female reader

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maybeimamuppet · 2 months

Note

Do you have any autistic/ADHD headcanons for Cady? (Love your fics by the way :333)

OH BOY DO I

(thank you dear!)

usual disclaimer these are based on her musical self and are mostly from a list i made like three years ago anyway yeeha

-literally my first bullet point in her characterization list is just “autistic”

-she’s the kind of person who’s like “at 1:47 pm on Tuesday, May 7, 2022 you said this in these exact words” and also like “i have not eaten or peed in seven hours” at the same time (idk if may 7 2022 was a tuesday i just made smth up lol)

-she has the kälteen bars on her at all times bc she forgets meals so often but she also constantly reminds her friends to take their meds and stuff when they forget

-she’s not actually a savant in math, she just likes rules

-for much the same reason she’s also a polyglot

-she studies languages from books and the people she grew up exposed to and is at least bordering on fluent in seven languages

-she was mute until she was six

-because of this she knows asl

-she uses it whenever she has nonverbal times and teachers her friends basics and like how to fingerspell and stuff so they can use it too

-she can speak backwards because she got bored learning how to read and taught herself to do it both ways. she can flip any word or phrase around in her head

-she’s really good at impressions bc she copycats to learn most of how to socialize and stuff so she’s very quick to pick up intonations and vocal tone and stuff like that

-she’s very sensitive to noise and to touch

-she prefers broadway music (which damian loves) bc they use enough diction to override her auditory processing issues

-she doesn’t like to be touched softly because it’s too tickly and she also just hates being tickled

-but she loves to be snuggled by her loved ones and one of her love languages is touch

-she loves soft clothes (like janis and damian’s jackets) and will steal them if she gets the slightest opportunity

-she loves to stim with her hair which is why it’s so long. and also other people’s and especially janis’ because it’s different colors and very soft

-she also loves when other people play with her hair

-she hyperfixates HARD on the lion king, especially the musical, when janis and damian show it to her and blows all her money on merch and stuff lol

-she’s shockingly organized but her handwriting is terrible

-her friends get her chewy necklaces and stim toys for like every birthday and holiday so she has them all on a rotation to be fair

-she is blunt as all hell and honest to a fault

-she loves when janis paints and draws on her for that good good sensory input

-she goes barefoot whenever she can for also sensory input but she always wears socks inside

-she hates when people whisper and also when people fake crying

-she stims a lot by singing and humming and most of the time she doesn’t notice but (insert preferred partner here) doesn’t mention it bc they love it

-she adores disney movies and cartoons

-she hates crowds of people

-she had daily meltdowns as a plastic bc the texture of the clothes was so overwhelming for her sensorily

-she drops shit all the goddamn time and is incredibly clumsy

-she hates eye contact

-she does not understand fashion rules at all but gretchen gives her a crash course and that helps

-she hates surprises for the most part and is v into her routine

-she will tell her africa stories to someone on the sidewalk if they’ll listen to her

-she loves being off the ground. carried around, table time, riding in shopping carts. favorites.

-she has really weird medical knowledge

-she actually prefers to write or sign than speak out loud but she speaks anyway bc it’s faster and everyone can understand that

-she doesn’t easily pick up on sarcasm or figures of speech unless it’s v obvious/intuitive but janis teaches her so she’s got it down within a year of their friendship

-she constantly forgets what things are named and invents new ones. and also is constantly stumbling over her words and inventing new curse words

-she hates english class the most bc there’s so many exceptions to all the rules

-idk if this is an adhd or autism thing lol but she talks in her sleep

-she also can and will sleep anywhere but sometimes she pretends she can’t so she gets cuddles

#thank you for the ask!!#ik most of these are v stereotypical but eh #i based a lot on me and the rest just felt right #i don’t think they’re all applicable to each version of her either etc etc #she’s v nuanced in a way a list doesn’t lend itself to lol #anyway #thank you!!#cady heron #headcanon #ezzy gets an ask

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hereforreadandwrite · 3 days

Text

Madness Part 1

Masterlist

How did things get so bad?

How did you end up lying on the ground, blood coming out of your lips and throat? You saw a strange person loudly chewing on a piece of your flesh.

How did you get to this point?

Your life had gone wrong overnight. In just a few moments, your house had gone up in smoke, you had seen your parents and your sister burn alive, you had managed to save yourself by leaving through your bedroom window. At eight years old, you had been interned because of post-traumatic stress. For fifteen years, you were tortured by his doctors who had nothing to do with your well-being. They said they were healing you, but they weren't. You hated that hospital: the straitjacket, the sensory deprivation, the experimental drugs, the leeches, the electroshock therapy. You wanted out of here, but you were at the mercy of his doctors eager to learn about the human body. Everything had changed when they appeared in your room. A child accompanied by a butler. At first you thought they were a figment of your imagination, until the man named Sebastian took off your camisole.

"Are you…real?" you asked uncertain.

"As real as you are," the child replied, stepping closer to you. "My name is Ciel Phantomhive. I'm looking for personnel. People with certain characteristics."

"Particularity? Looking for staff? Did you take a good look at me? Are you looking for all your staff in a psychiatric hospital?" you asked as you pulled away from Sebastian.

"As the young master just said, he's only looking for people with certain quirks," Sebastian commented smiling at you. A smile that made you uncomfortable. "I did some research on you. You don't realize it, but you have an invaluable ability that you don't yet realize. We're sorely short of female staff. You'd be perfect as a maid."

"Priceless ability? Maid? I've been locked up here for twelve years! I may be crazy, but you seem even crazier," you say between your teeth.

"No previous experience is required here! We don't discriminate by age, race or history," Sebastian said ignoring what you had just said. "We guarantee payment and days off, and even provide luxury supplies like sugar and tea. The uniform is designed by a first-rate tailor. You could even get a raise depending on your performance. How about it? Not bad right?"

"You didn't listen to me," you growled annoyed.

"Fifteen years locked up and tortured in his hospital, that must be a long time," Ciel said looking down at you. "Doctors and nurses say you're crazy, but aren't we all? I can get you out of this place, you'll finally be free. And I could help you find out who kill your family . Or I can leave you here, in this sordid place. You will die alone, at the hands of his doctors."

You, being a maid? You felt like they were playing a joke on you. A joke in very bad taste. But it was your only chance to leave this Hell. You shook hands with the demon, accepting the walk. They took you out of the psychiatric hospital and you agreed to serve Ciel Phantomhive body and soul. The transition from a very poorly maintained hospital to a perfectly clean mansion had been a shock. Everyone here was perfectly clean. You looked like a disgusted rat. Head shaved, still wearing your straitjacket with your hospital gown dirty like your body. But the employees weren't judging you. Everyone seemed to have a past as checkered as yours. A crazy seamstress had arrived the day after you came to the mansion to make you an entire wardrobe. Ciel gave you a present, he had asked Nina Hopking to make you a top quality wig while your hair grew back. It was a second shock to see you so clean, with clothes as clean as you and hair. With this transformation, you swore to yourself to protect Ciel Phantomhive even if you had to die for it. He had saved your life. You had worked hard to become a good example, as much in your domestic tasks as in protecting the mansion from attackers. A year was gone. A year of hard work. During two years, you had believed that your loyalty to the earl would be unfailing until Jack the Ripper struck. Ciel had decided to take you with him and Sebastian to his townhouse and from that moment your life took another turn.

"So, what is this place?" Lau asked, glaring at Ciel with his everlasting friendly smile.

"Why are you familiar with this kind of place?!" Madame Red shouted at Lau.

Sebastian explained that the business they were standing in front of was an undertaker run by an acquaintance of Ciel. You had never heard of this person. Anyway, you had been there for a year and the count was within his rights not to tell you anything. Sebastian opened the door, letting Ciel enter the building. The place was plunged into darkness, there were coffins on the floor and leaning against the wall. You were looking around uncomfortably when a laugh sounded in the room. You moved closer to Ciel, lifting your skirt slightly to put your hand on your gun.

"I knew that you would come," a man's voice reasoned as he pushed open the lid of the coffin he was hidden in. "Do you want to see how it feels to sleep in my custom-made coffin?"

"I didn't come here to play today…," Ciel began before being cut off by Undertaker who put his finger to his lips.

"You don't need to tell me," Undertaker replied, stepping back when you stood in front of Ciel. "I know why you came. With just one look~ I can tell what's on your mind. Since the earl went out of his wa to visit me. I'll certainly do everything I can to help."

"Do you know something?" Ciel asked, waving you back.

"I didn't know you had a new maid, earl~" Undertaker commented as he approached you. "What's your name, poppet?"

"(Y-Y/N), sir."

"You can call me Undertaker, (Y/N)."

Undertaker was no ordinary man. He was goofy, his payment was laughable, which was kind of weird, but who were you to judge him? With himself working, he didn't have to see funny things every day. He had provided information on the serial killer: Jack the Ripper. After the case, you decided to visit him.

"My, my~ Wouldn't that be Earl Phantomhive's maid. It's nice to see you again, (Y/N)," Undertaker greeted, stepping closer to you. "What is this visit worth to me?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you in your work."

"You don't bother me, Poppet. I knew you would come," he said, running his hand through your hair, watching your eyes intently. "You have beautiful eyes~"

"Did you know? How can you know that kind of thing?" you asked, taking a step back, embarrassed by the compliment.

"It's a secret. I'll make us some tea. Take a seat wherever you want~"

Undertaker went to the back room, leaving you alone in the shop. You were looking around when your gaze fell on a particular coffin. You wanted to open it, but it would be an aberration if you did. You shook your head away from the coffin that aroused your curiosity. Undertaker came back into the room with his beakers full of tea. He gave you one of the beakers by opening a jar filled with bone-shaped biscuit.

"Take seat~ Take seat~ you have some time don't you?"

"It's my day off. The Count isn't expecting me," you say, sitting down uncomfortably on one of the coffins.

"So it's my lucky day~"

You just nodded as you took a sip of your tea, watching Undertaker fill out various forms while munching on his cookies. This man was really strange.

"You wanted to ask me something, (Y/N)?" Undertaker asked, leaving his papers to stare at you.

"Hm? Uh…that's right. You're doing research for the young master, aren't you?"

"Yes and?"

"Is it possible for you to do a search for me?"

"It depends, what do you want me to do for research?"

"My family died in a fire. My family's stupid lawyer says my cat, my Dinah, knocked over an oil lamp. But that's impossible."

"And why this?"

"Because…she had come to bed with me. She couldn't knock over an oil lamp. I was the last person to leave the library and I did extinguish the fireplace."

"So…you think it was arson?" Undertaker asked while eating a cookie.

"I don't know. After all this time, I don't remember if I put out the fire properly. But at night during the fire, I saw a centaur."

"A centaur? Are you sure?"

"Yes! I saw him come out of my sister's room. He ran away when he saw me and then… my house and my family were burnt down."

Your grip tightened on the beaker. Even if all this made no sense, you were sure and certain that it was because of this centaur that your family died. Undertaker closed his jar, left his office and approached you. He cupped your chin between his fingers, lifting your head.

"Alright, I'll do a little research, poppet. But there's a price to pay," Undertaker said.

"You… you want to laugh, right?"

"Not this time," he said, licking his lips. "This time I want something else."

You didn't have time to ask what he wanted until his lips landed on yours. In shock, you had no idea to react. Undertaker took advantage of your surprise to pass his tongue over your lips, which brought you out of your stupor. You tried to push the mortician away, parting your lips to catch your breath, but he took advantage of this moment to stick his tongue in your mouth, starting a wild dance with his twin. Your hands gripped Undertaker's robe as he grabbed your waist, pressing his body against yours. Undertaker broke the kiss, finally letting you breathe. Your cheeks were now flushed with embarrassment and excitement.

"This payment will be enough for now, love~" he said in a low, seductive voice. "Come back to me in three days, Poppet~ I'll have all the information you want to hear~ Give my regards to the Count~"

You nodded in response, your voice stuck in your throat. You felt like your legs were freezing her. You heard Undertaker laughing as you stumbled out of the store. You didn't understand why Undertaker did that.

You went to see him again three days later to get the information you wanted. When you arrived in front of the shop, you had had a lump in your stomach. What if he did it again? But you needed his information. You needed to know what had happened to your family. You walked into Undertaker's shop, your heart pounding. The undertaker was waiting for you, sitting on his desk, two beakers of tea in his hands. You felt your cheeks flush as you saw Undertaker smiling at you with the same enigmatic smile that graced his lips.

"Hi Poppet~ Come and get settled, I have a lot to tell you~"

You approached Undertaker who handed you a beaker. You thanked him with a nod as you took your place on one of the coffins.

"So…? Did you find anything?" you asked uncomfortably.

"Lots of things~ especially one thing that might hurt you," Undertaker said taking out a bone cookie.

"What is it?"

"You remember seeing a centaur that came out of your sister's room. What else do you remember?"

"I heard Lizzie talking in her sleep."

"Had she ever done that before?"

Now that he said it, Lizzie had never spoken in her sleep. She had never locked her bedroom door again, it made her feel like she was locked in a cage.

"The fire couldn't have killed her," Undertaker said before taking a sip of his tea. "His room was furthest from the fire. He didn't asphyxiate her. She could have got out otherwise, through the window for example. Like you did. Someone must have immobilized or killed your sister, locked her in, then started the fire downstairs to cover up his crime. This person wanted to kill you all. Neither you nor your cat set the fire, (Y/N). Centaurs n don't exist, unlike doctors."

"Doctor… im-im-impossible… it can't…"

Fear descends on you, like thousands of daggers that pierce you at the same time. Undertaker was right, centaurs never existed. His devil creatures never existed, unlike doctors, especially this particular doctor. Tears were streaming down your pale cheeks, your breathing became jerky, your fingers began to go numb. You were having a panic attack. Undertaker moved closer to you, he cupped your face in his hands, lifting your head to force you to look at him. You see them take a deep breath and exhale. You imitated him, gradually finding your normal breathing. The undertaker sat down next to you, putting his arm around your shoulders to pull you into a hug.

"You had nothing to do with it, Poppet. What happened last night wasn't your fault. You were just a child."

"I saw it…"

"Hmm?"

"I saw him, a half-hearted student. I remember him! That key! Lizzie's!" you say between your teeth taking deep breaths. "He used it against me to make me forget what he did to my sister. Lord, my poor Lizzie."

"Now that you have the answers you wanted, what are you going to do?"

You had made Bumby pay for what he had done to your sister, your family and her poor children whom he had broken up to sell as sex slaves. You got Lizzie's key. Finally, you had the answers you had been waiting for for so many years.

"So? What are you going to do now?"

Your gaze fell on Undertaker. After neutralizing Bumby, you went to the cemetery to announce the good news to your family. The undertaker had appeared out of nowhere, but you didn't care too much to pay attention to that detail.

"I don't know. I stayed alive to find out the truth. I promised myself to stay loyal to the Earl. But even though he didn't help me find my family's murderer, he did when even got him out of the hospital."

You were surprised when you felt Undertaker's hand pull your wig off. You clapped your hands on your head. After two years, your hair had grown back into a little boyish haircut, but you didn't like people seeing your real hair.

"Give them back to me!" you cried, trying to get your wig back.

Undertaker put his arm around your waist, hugging you. You were mortified, your body frozen with embarrassment. Was Undertaker having fun humiliating you? The mortician was watching you intently, his left eye visible. He ran his finger over your cheek, tucking a stray strand behind your ear.

"Why are you wearing that wig?" he asked running his fingers through your hair.

"It's…it's a gift from the Count. Give me back my wig, I need it…"

"Ah sorry Poppet~ I didn't mean to upset you," he said as he put your wig back on your head. "Let me fix it~"

Undertaker arranged your wig to make you look presentable. You glared at the man with long gray/silver hair who placed a chaste kiss on your lips.

"I didn't mean to hurt you, love. I'm sorry if I made you angry," Undertaker apologized, taking your hand in his and bringing it to his lips. "But I have a request for you. What I found deserves more than just a kiss~don't you think~"

Your cheeks turned red. You pushed Undertaker away, telling him you weren't a prostitute. This simple sentence made the undertaker who was rolling in the grass roar with laughter. You looked at him surprised as he regained his composure. He stood up saying you were hilarious. Definitely, this man was the strangest.

"I don't want a carnal relationship, my dear. No~ No~ what I want is for you to visit me on your days off~"

"Is that all you want?" you asked uncomfortably.

"Yes~ I am a man of my word~"

You accepted Undertaker's request. You visited him on your days off. Strangely, you were counting the days until your holidays. You enjoyed visiting Undertaker, despite the kissing incident. You caught yourself telling him about what happened to you in the psychiatric hospital, your old life with your family, your life at the mansion and other things. A few days before you embarked on the Campania with the young count, you had gone to Undertaker to tell him that you would be away for a while. Ciel had asked you to accompany him with Snake and Sebastian, of course. He also ordered you to keep quiet about why you were boarding the Campania. Apparently Karnstein Hospital had found a way to bring the dead back to life. It was ridiculous, but with everything you've been through, it wouldn't really surprise you.

"Hey~ the Earl is selfish to keep you all to himself for his three weeks," Undertaker commented as he hugged you and rested his chin on your head. "Wouldn't you like to stay with me for her three weeks?"

"And it is the young master who is selfish?" you replied with a sigh.

"Eheheh~ Sorry~Sorry~ It's okay if you leave. I'm going to be away for a while as well," he said letting go of you to go to his kitchen. "Make yourself at home, Poppet~"

You watched Undertaker disappear into the kitchen, presumably to make some tea. Your gaze rested on one coffin in particular. You didn't know why, but you had a morbid curiosity about this coffin. Why did no one come to claim this coffin? Why wasn't Undertaker going to put him in a mass grave? Who could possibly be in this coffin? You moved closer to the coffin, looking towards the kitchen, making sure the undertaker was still busy. You swallow, grabbing the edge of the lid, forcing it a little to lift it up a bit. You didn't have time to open the coffin enough to see who was inside when a pair of hands suddenly landed on the lid, closing the coffin with a crash. Your body tensed as you felt Undertaker lean against your back, his hair tickling your cheeks and his lips brushing your ear. Your heart was beating incredibly fast in your chest.

"I didn't know you were a curious little mouse, Poppet~"

"I'm… I'm sorry, Undertaker. That's…"

"There's something special about this coffin," he whispered in your ear, stroking the lid. "One thing I seek to fix."

"W-wait Undertaker!" you cried, managing to get out of his grip, placing your hands on his chest to push him back. "I'm sorry for going through your stuff. I shouldn't have done that. I'm sorry."

You looked at the ground ashamed of your behavior. Normally, you would never have done such a thing. Your behavior made the Undertaker chuckle. The mortician took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to raise your head.

"You really are an interesting mortal, (Y/N)," Undertaker commented, bringing his face dangerously close to yours. "With such a beautiful soul~"

Undertaker dropped your chin, running his fingers down your throat, then down your chest. You felt your cheeks warm when the mortician squeezed your left breast in his hand. To your surprise, Undertaker tipped you over the coffin. He clapped his hands on either side of your head and placed his leg between yours. You were trapped.

"Such a sweet soul~" he said placing his head on your chest. "So full of life~ Aaah~ I would so love to kidnap her. Keep her to myself for eternity. Maybe this is the only way to save you, you wouldn't mind me kidnapping you to keep you just for me?"

You didn't know what to answer. You'd be lying if you said that proposal wasn't tempting. To be with Undertaker for eternity? Your irrational side was screaming for you to accept this proposal, but your rational side was screaming at you to run away as far as possible. You were shaking. You didn't know if it was fear or excitement. All this was strange, terrifying and exciting. Undertaker sighed loudly as he tightened his grip before letting go of you to straighten up. For the first time since you had met the undertaker, you saw his eyes. Mesmerizing green/yellow eyes and a long scar lined his face.

"Excuse me, Poppet. I didn't mean to scare you," Underaker apologized, placing a quick kiss on your lips.

Undertaker stood up before helping you to your feet. He readjusted your dress and restyled your hair to make you look presentable. All of this was terribly embarrassing.

"Hm…you…you said you were going to be away too," you say, hoping to break through that unease.

"Right," Undertaker replied, brushing his hair back over his eyes. "I have some business to attend to outside of London."

"I… I see. I have to go. The young count must be waiting for me," you say, pointing your finger at the door. "So…"

Undertaker smiled seeing you so uncomfortable. The undertaker was leaning towards you, kissing your temple.

"We'll see you soon, Poppet~ Pass my regards to the Count."

After this strange visit, you left the shop in perplexity. Undertaker was a strange man, but what just happened was even more strange than usual. You returned to the cart to return to the Phantomhive mansion and prepare for the cruise. Even if it was for an investigation to reassure her majesty, it will be the first time that you will travel aboard a luxury freighter for three long weeks.

Seeing the liner on D-Day made you nervous. It was the first time that Sebastian and the Count allowed you to come on one of their missions, you weren't going to be able to enjoy this sumptuous trip. Elizabeth had wept with joy when she saw that Ciel had "surprised" her. At least you had an excuse. It took another three days to wait for the Aurora company meeting. You had disguised yourself to go unnoticed and avoid a scandal. You had traded your wig (Y/H/C) for long red hair, a fake pair of glasses was placed on your nose and you had traded skilled servants for a crimson red dress. Ciel had put on a blonde wig and traded in his eye patch for bandages. And Sebastian had just put on a wig. The butler quickly explained what you were going to have to do to make it look like you were part of Aurora society. Ciel was mortified and you uncomfortable at the thought of striking such a pose. The young count took a glass of water at an exorbitant price. The smoking room was filled with well-to-do people waiting impatiently for the meeting to begin.

"Are you firts timers?" asked a man who had just noticed your arrival.

"The… the complete flame in our chests…," Ciel began uncomfortably.

"Shall not be extinguished by anyone," the man continued.

"We are…The Phoenix!"

Striking the Phoenix pose was terribly embarrassing. You and Ciel were red as peonies, but at least the man was satisfied. He welcomed you to the company and gave you three Phoenix badges. Giggles came to your ears. You and the young Earl were surprised to see Undertake, laughing.

"Saying "The Phoenix!" with such a serious face hahaha!" Undertaker exclaimed.

"You bastard!" exclaimed Ciel mortifying.

"Now, now young master," Sebastian said.

"Undertaker? What are you doing here?" you asked, trying to forget your embarrassment.

"My job, Poppet. The hospital is a regular customer of mine," Undertaker explained, regaining his composure.

"We're investigating the illegal human experimentation going on here though. Do you know anything about the revival of the dead?" Ciel asked, glaring at his informant.

"Just a sec, if you want information then I want my compensation," Undertaker stopped chuckling. "Let's see~ How about you do that pose once more?"

"Who the hell will…?!!!

"The Phoenix!!!"

Ciel and Sebastian's attention was drawn to none other than the Viscount of Druitt. Undertaker took advantage of his moment of inattention to grab your hand and lead you with him, through the crowd, away from Ciel and Sebastian.

"U-Undertaker? What are you doing?"

"Hush, it's starting," Undertaker said, pointing to men carrying a coffin to the makeshift stage.

A young man, probably in his late twenties, came onto the stage. No doubt a doctor saw the white coat he was wearing.

"Who is that man?" you asked looking at the puzzled Undertaker.

"The Founder: Ryan Stoker. An idiot."

"Hey?"

"Nothing, Poppet," the undertaker replied, hugging you, resting his chin on your head.

"The complete flame in our chest shall not be extinguished by anyone," Ryan said before striking the Phoenix pose. "We are the Phoenix!!! Ladies and gentlemen! Thank you for coming to today's research presentation of the Aurora society's "complete salvation of making through medicine". What is complete salvation you say? That is… COMPLETE HEALTH!!! A healthy body! Healthy teeth! A healthy spirit housed within a healthy body! And finally, a healthy mood! HEALTHINESS IS TRULY SPLENDID!!!"

"W-what?" you asked lost. "What he is talking about?"

"Shhh~ The best part is coming~"

"However, there's the worst kind of health issue that we can't overcome no matter how hard we try," Rya continued, placing her hand on the coffin. "What is that, you say? Death! And the great power that will save us from this disaster is THE AURORA SOCIETY'S MEDICINE!!!! We will now show you ladies and gentlemen. The fruits of our "complete salvation of manking through medicine "research."

Two men removed the lid of the coffin where a young girl was. A shiver ran up your spine as you leaned against Undertaker's chest. You felt bad.

"Are you all right, Poppet?" Undertaker asked running his fingernail through your hair.

"That girl reminds me of Lizzie," you say looking away from the scene. "I…I don't want to watch this. Besides, it's cruel to make someone believe that you can bring a dead person back to life."

"Ummm~ Do you mean?"

"Yes! How can they mourn properly?"

"Who knows~ But watch carefully what's next Poppet~"

Even though you didn't feel like it, you brought your attention back to the scene. Ryan's men placed electrodes on the deceased's chest and temples. Ryan sent powerful electric shocks into the body before stopping the machine and ordering the deceased to get up, like the Phoenix. To your surprise, and that of the crowd, the body began to move. The resurrected young girl stood up, under the tearful eyes of her parents and the admiration of the crowd. You remained speechless in front of this scene. How could that be possible? No one could defeat death, not even my medicine. You had a very bad feeling. The crowd began to applaud Ryan for this complete salute. But something was strange in the behavior of the young girl, she was perhaps "awakened", but she did not seem more alive than before. The mother hugged her daughter, crying with joy and thanking the doctor, but to everyone's surprise, the girl opened her mouth as wide as she could to bite her mother's shoulder. Blood spurted from the wound, the mother's cry of pain echoed in the quiet room. There was silence for a few seconds before people started screaming and fleeing the scene. You didn't have time to do anything that Undertaker dragged you behind the machine that had just "resuscitated" the young woman.

"What do you-"

"Hush!"

Undertaker had just clapped his hand over your mouth. You looked at the undertaker surprised by his behavior. His attention was focused on the undead advancing towards Sebastian and Ciel. You saw the butler throw knives at the monster's vital points, but it had no effect. How could that thing still move after Sebastian's knives had touched its heart?

"We've seen enough. Let's get out of here Poppet."

"W-wait! Undertaker!"

Undertaker took you with him out of the room, taking you away from Ciel and Sebastian. You were trying to pull your wrist out of the undertaker's grip, but he was determined to take you with him. You tried to talk to him, but Undertaker pretended not to hear you. You understood that you had no choice but to follow the undertaker through the corridors of the liner until you arrived in a room where you were pushed unceremoniously. You turned to the undertaker, but he quickly locked the door, trapping you in the room. You rushed to the door, trying in vain to open it.

"Undertaker! What's wrong with you?!" you asked, banging on the door. "Let me out!"

"Sorry Poppet. You better stay in there. I don't want you to get hurt. It's the last thing I want," Undertaker replied, his voice muffled by the door. "You don't fear anything here. Stay quietly there until I return. I won't be long."

You heard Undertaker's footsteps walking away from the room. He really just locked you in that room? What was happening? First this girl coming back to life and devouring people, then Undertaker decides to lock you up without giving you a plausible explanation. What were you supposed to do? You couldn't stay locked in this room, but what could you do? You had to calm down and think of a way out of this room. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard people screaming in terror and running through the hallways. What was happening? There was another strange noise reaching your ears. Rattles. What was happening? You had to get out of here. Your gaze swept the room when you saw an air vent. It was big enough for you to fit in. You pushed the desk to reach your only exit. You manage, with some difficulty, to open the gate and slip into the ducts. Screams of terror, pain and gasps echoed through the vents. You stopped in front of a gate to see what was making people hysterical. The living were chased by other undead. Was that why Undertaker locked you in his room? Did he know what was going to happen? A violent jolt shook the liner. The tremor lasted a good minute until everything became "calm" again. Did he hit something? You crawled back through the vents, looking for a hallway quiet enough to get out of there. You found a deserted corridor, there was not the slightest living and the slightest death. You opened the grille and pulled out the air ducts. This place was way too quiet. You took out your revolver before setting off. You had to find the Count and Sebastian. And quick. You were running through the long dark corridors. The corridors were all alike, this liner was a real labyrinth, it reminded you of the hospital.

"The hospital…," you muttered before shaking your head. "No, (Y/N)! Stay focused!"

You quickly set off through this maze. The liner was leaning dangerously, it was only a matter of a minute before it sank forever in the ocean. You'll run through the long corridors, passing several doors to arrive in a reception room. The huge room was empty, all the furniture had been knocked over and the majority of the doors were blocked, the corpses of half-eating people littered the floor in a pool of blood. How could things have gotten so bad? The huge room was empty, all the furniture had been knocked over and most of the doors were blocked, half-eaten corpses were strewn on the floor in a pool of blood. It reminded you of that night, it looked like it. Deaths, blood, screams, tears. You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a door open. You got into a fighting stance when you saw a group of men alive, along with Undertaker, Sebastian, and Ciel. A sigh of relief escaped your lips when you saw that they weren't injured, but your attention quickly fell on the strange machine that Undertaker and three other men were carrying. The undertaker put the machine down, under the watchful eyes of Viscount and Ciel, before approaching you.

"You should have stayed in the bedroom, Poppet," Undertaker commented as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

"You know what's going on on that liner, don't you?" you asked, sternly eyeing the undertaker.

"Ah~ that~ that's another story, Poppet~"

"Ah! Bastard!! Why did you take the device?!!!"

Ryan had just walked into the room with two other people you had never seen. You thought he was talking to the Viscount, but when he spoke, the doctor's eyes fell on him. It was not the Viscount he was addressing. You looked at Undertaker who chuckled as he tightened his grip on your waist. The Viscount fantasized about a new era, which he would name "The Aurora Empire". Either the man or woman was activating his chainsaw, saying he/she was going to paint it red, but Druitt was leaning his wine glass dangerously over the machine. The blonde laughed, saying he could beat everyone here with just a glass of wine.

"I'm going to kill him," you say, glaring Druitt sternly.

"Eheheh~ Not yet, Poppet~"

To your surprise, and that of the others, hundreds of undead broke the windows, clumped together and forming a traffic jam, a few managed to enter. There were far too many of his creatures to fight. Ciel asked the Viscount to activate the machine, but the Viscount announced that his title no longer suited him and that he would activate the machine only if the little Count called him Caesar. What was the problem with this guy who compared himself to Emperor Nero? The man/woman with long red hair ordered Druitt to activate the machine, losing what little patience he/she had. Druitt smiled ordering everyone in the room to do the phoenix dance to prove their loyalty. The three men and the man/woman looked at Druitt with the same idea in mind, to kill him.

"Oh no," Undertaker chuckled, rubbing your cheek against your hair. "Are you sure you don't want to know how that device works? You must too, Poppet."

Ciel glared at Undertaker who chuckled as he imagined this most hilarious scene.

"What are you doing? Come on!" Druitt exclaimed.

"The… the complete flame in our chests," Ciel and Sebastian began.

"Shall not be extinguished by anyone," Grell and Ronald continued.

"The nex embodiment of. We are…," Druitt continued.

"The Phoenix!!!"

The word Phoenix echoed around the room as the group struck a Phoenix pose. Druitt congratulated the group, announcing that he would show them how the army of the dead would bow down to him. Druitt turned on the machine, the light bulbs lit up, sparks appeared, then nothing, the machine went out on its own in front of everyone's eyes. Undertaker's laugh echoed around the room, you saw the undertaker roll on the floor and hold his ribs. Why the machine was not working? Wasn't the Viscount who built this thing?

"Bastard! So you fooled me?!" yelled Ryan annoyed.

You looked at Ryan surprised. It wasn't Druitt he was yelling at, it was…

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard the sound of the chainsaw motor. You saw Grell leap from the balcony, slicing the undead in half, before rushing at Druitt. You didn't have time to react when Undertaker moved in front of the Viscount, blocking Grell's chainsaw with a sotobari.

"Un-Undertaker?" you asked surprised.

"Hehe… it's been a while since I've laughed so much to lose such an amusing man would be like losing the whole world to me…," Undertaker commented quietly as he removed his top hat. "Don't you agree? Shinigami?"

"The deathscythe's blade can't cut it?!" exclaimed Grell surprised.

Undertaker pushed Grell away, opening his jacket to reveal the sotobaris hiding beneath. Undertaker smiled as he sent sotobari at Grell, who shielded himself with his chainsaw, but one of the sotobari grazed the Shinigami's temple. Grave markers shattered the huge glass. Your legs had turned to jelly, you collapsed on the stairs, staring at Undertaker in shock. What was he doing? What was happening?

"Ahh…how sad…," Undertaker commented, brushing hair from his face, revealing his green/yellow eyes and the scar across his face. "How sad it would be should laughter disappear."

Ciel was as surprised as you to find Undertaker's true face. You shielded your face as the shards of glass crashed to the floor. You didn't want to watch this show. You didn't want to be there. You were praying this was all a nightmare and you were going to wake up. You felt like your head was underwater, it was way too much information to take in all at once. You vaguely heard Sebastian say that he had never noticed the undertaker's true nature and that he had concealed his eyes very well, while Ronald and Grell understood that Undertaker was a Shinigami. Undertaker sneered, saying it hadn't been called that for half a century.

shinigami? What was this thing? What was happening? Why did things get so bad? You lay curled up on the floor, digging your nails into your skull. Your heart was beating insanely fast in your chest, your fingers were numb, your breathing was erratic, you were having a panic attack. What were you supposed to do? To run away? Combat? Do nothing? You vaguely heard Ryan yell at Undertaker, but you felt like your head was under water. The young doctor didn't understand why the Shinigami had lied to him? The whole thing about going to America to spread complete salvation was a lie. All Undertaker replied was that he thought this would all be fun, since Ryan was trying, seriously, to bring the dead back to life and he was the perfect person to achieve his goal. The terrible truth fell on Ryan, he had been manipulated from the start. The young man fell to his knees, horrified by this truth.

"So in the other words, you're the mastermind behind the Aurora society's human ressurection experiments, Undertaker!" Ciel exclaimed, eyeing the undertaker.

"That's a secret," Undertaker replied before sighing with a shrug. "is what I'd like to say, but by doing that Phoenix pose, you've paid me for an awful amount of information. So I'll tell you. Hehe~ It's true that I was the one who made these moving corpses ."

"Why?!"

"Ah yes… at first, it was probably just my curiosity toward humans," Undertaker began, tapping the tip of his sotobari on the ground.

Humans were a body of flesh and a soul. If brought together, they could exist among the living and continue to record their memories in the cinematic lantern. And when the body of flesh withers and a Shinigami comes to collect the soul, the film stops and the living becomes dead. The Shinigami then takes the soul from the body from a list and thus ends the kaleidoscope. Day after day, quietly, indifferently, Undertaker lived this Shinigami life for a long time when one day he said to himself: what if the ending had a continuation? What would happen to the body if a sequel was added to its memories that ended when the soul is removed?

"Shinigami only hunt souls after all. The body and the brain that holds the memories are left in this world," Undertaker continued.

"Hehe~ Well then how about you take a look at their records with your own abilities?" Undertaker asked, pointing to one of the undead.

Grell activated her chainsaw to cut off the heads of two walking corpses, revealing their cinematic lantern. At first, everything was normal, then after the lantern ended, the two Shinigami and the demon were surprised to see that Undertaker had added a film of him doing anything. Which had the gift of making Grell hysterical. You ignored everything they were saying, covering your ears with your hands so as not to hear anything anymore. You had to calm down, to come to your senses. You could see Undertaker, the two other Shinigami and Sebastian fighting among themselves. But no sound reached your ears, you could just hear the beating of your heart which was deafening, your breathing was erratic, your heart was beating at a crazy speed and you had the impression that your legs were made of lead. You were having a panic attack. Your attention was quickly diverted from the fight to be brought back to Ciel. The teenager was talking to you, but his voice couldn't reach you. You were just watching his lips move when your attention was drawn to one of the walking corpses rushing at Ciel. You were brought out of your panic attack, grabbing the young Count by the collar of his jacket to throw him over the banister.

Ciel looked at you surprised when he saw you grab him by the collar of his shirt to lift him off the ground and throw him over the banister. During his fall, he saw the corpse throw itself at you, pinning you to the ground and sinking its teeth into your throat before its body hit the ground heavily, cutting off its breath.

The cry of pain that escaped from your mouth, feeling the corpse sink its teeth deep into your flesh and tear it out, resonated in the room. A metallic taste invaded your mouth, you had trouble breathing. You could only see the walking corpse chewing noisily on the piece of your own flesh.

You saw the man/woman with long red hair land next to you and pull out a notebook.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N), born in 1864, aged twenty-five, dies of a hemorrhage. Nothing special," Grell said with a chuckle.

Dead…?

You were dying?

So this is how you were going to die?

"Poor thing," Grell chuckled. "A life of misery with an equally miserable end. Be glad to be free of this miserable existence."

As you heard this person speak to you, you saw your vision begin to darken, the noise stopped reaching your ears and then it was black and complete silence.

#x reader #fanfiction #female reader #reader insert #black butler undertaker x reader #sebastian michaelis #ciel phamtonhive #kuroshitsuji #grell sutcliff #ciel black butler #undertaker x reader #sebastian black butler

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