#MY LITTLE BASTARD SQUARE

[soundscape-sandbox]

HIIII HIII hellooo ^o^ I drew the scrunklies. The oogly woos. The weemy wumples.

Enjoy!!!

- Iso :D

[bluecubeblues]

are there more shapes up there?? if so, can we meet them?

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[strawberrycircuits]

thoughts on groose 🎤

GDOOSE YEAH UEHA GROOSS MY FIRNEND GOROSOOSS !!!! takes the microphone and eats it. i love groose oh my god !!!! character of all time. hes set up at a one note bully character to act as the antagonist for the tutorial levels when everything is, like, low stakes and part of the player getting used to things, and once the plot kicks in you kind of Forget about it, yk? he was just a bully and he served his purpose in the narrative bc now we arent dealing with stakes as low as "my loftwing is gone! and the prom wing ceremony is tomorrowww!!!" we're dealing with centuries long prophecy and zelda being gone and the fate of the world blah blah blah.

and then the best scene in the series happens and its like no! nope! sorry bud but we r making this guy plot relevant!!!!! and then they made it the best thing theyve ever done.

groose starts out being actively antagonistic towards link and weirdly objectifying of zelda and its like okay. ok. you have seen this character a billion times you know what this is and where this is going. zelda falls from skyloft and groose is so devastated he stays in his room up until The Scene happens, and when you talk to him a few things are abundanty clear; he blames link for what happened, he desperately misses zelda (but believes shes alive), and he thinks he can do... something. hes not sure what, but If Anyone Is Going To Save Zelda, Its Going To Be Groose. bc hes just some kid! he doesnt know about the fuckinf. implications of hylia and demise and destiny n all that all he knows is the little shit he hates won a ceremony which allowed him to go flying with zelda, and now zeldas gone and maybe it wouldnt have happened if HE had won instead-- if HED been there for her instead of link. and then hes the only character to be like Hey. Why is link gone all the time. Whats up with the massive pillars of light in the cloud barrier and why does link keep going into them. so he figures out link is up to something and hes like fuck that i want in!!!! and he follows. and he rightfully freaks the fuck out abt the surface lmao that scene specifically is excellent.

and sksw links interactions with him are so... interesting? like hes obviously sort of annoyed with him at times (or even angry when it comes to groose stealing his bird :[ ) but every scene i see him in hes either just like :o :/ :I or hes, like, genuinely amused or happy. and hes overwhelmingly understanding towards him or seems to just be like "uhh. ok" when groose is trying to instigate something. like he just doesnt care and when he does he seems to genuinely want to be nice to groose. and groose spends the first bits of the game thinking link is like. everything wrong with the world lmao. which is funny bc his hatred towards link is primarily fueled by 1. jealously about zelda (which. ill get to how he treats zelda.) and 2. this like? general anger about how well links life is going despite the fact he doesnt, like... try in life, at that things are going well for him regardless. and link just doesnt rlly care and still finds reason to be kind to him at times (which is so funny when u pay attention to sksw links character. that guy will lie and say some random concerned persons friend died for the comedy of it but will offer understanding to his fuckinf high school bully. what is wrong with him im obsessed!!!). and then hes told that, for one, zelda is part of something WAAAAY bigger than him, and that link is literally sacrificing everything to save her as was ordained centuries before he was born and hes like. omg. fuck that. this guy?? are u KIDDING. and it takes him watching link fight the imprisoned for him to be like ok. i think ive been an asshole. youve got this shit link im sorry.

so he stays behind and he helps the old lady in the temple take care of herself and keeps her company, and he starts tinkering with machines and he finds a purpose down there. and that purpose isnt "find zelda to spite link' its "help link find zelda." and that weird objectifying crush he has on zelda transforms into a genuine care for her safety more than anything else, to the point i cant even rlly decipher if he still thinks he loves her or if he knows whats best for her, and for him, and for link in the end and hes just content seeing her happy-- whatever it is that brings that. in ghirahims final battle, he catches zelda as shes dying and yells at link to finish this for them all, and that he'll make sure zeldas safe, and you can TELL its bc he wants her to be okay and wants link to be okay and not bc hes like. oh yeah smooching time or whatever HE GROWS !!!!! HE MATURES SO MUCH IN THIS STORY AND BECOMES A MUCH KINDER MORE GENUINE PERSON AND ITS SO ?????!!!! also he gets a cannon called the groosenator and its genuinely vital to fighting the imprisoned later on iirc. HE HAS A ROLE TO PLAY IN THIS SHIT JUST LIKE HE WANTED! JUST LIKE HE CAME DOWN HERE FOR!!!!!! ITS JUST UNDER MUCH MORE NOBLE CIRCUMSTANCES THAN HE ORIGINALLY INTENDED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ik this is contentious theory with a lot of holes but i like the idea that groose got wrapped up in demise's curse, but less for like. trying to consolidate this games stupid lore and more for the thematic implications of it. bc thats, like... essentially admitting he played such a massive part in helping link and zelda that even fucking DEMISE had to admit he did and had to make sure he paid for seeing through with his death. groose, the character who was told to sit back and let the hero deal with it bc hes not a part of hylias plan, who said "no, im doing *something* here, even if its only to help," had a GOD admit he was crucial to his death as much as the chosen hero and the fucking goddess reborn.

i love groose. holy shit.

[doctormage]

i am sick to death of mods that make anders “more attractive” or younger looking or whatever. when is someone going to mod him to look Worse

[mushroom-for-art]

@oogaboogaspookyman also I did a Vanient! They're a fuck! Doing a smug little howdy gesture with 3 fingers lmao, wasn't sure in mouth pattern so it's just an odd heart but they've got killer eyeliner

[curseddollfaye]

toxic baby daddy toji! x reader headcanon ( continued , click here to read the first one)

ᥫ᭡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! ty! please let me know what you think! ^.^ requests are currently open!! ᥫ᭡

masterlist

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· ੈ✩‧·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:· *ੈ✩‧₊˚

- toxic baby daddy toji! who will make sure to leave evidence that he’s been in your room before he leaves. Either that be a shirt or a pair of boxers in your hamper

- and when you confront him about it he acts like he has no clue what you’re talking about…typical

- “Why would I do that hmm? You think m’sum kinda psycho?” His stupid lazy grin doesn’t escape his lips as he scratches his bare chest.

- “I actually think you are, move Toji” you roll your eyes at his antics. His shirt hanging off of your fingers which you had found (very discreetly might you add ) in your panties drawer. Somehow though a smile tugs at your lips.

- toxic baby daddy toji! who looks at you in pure shock and bewilderment when he’s at your place one night. His hands had been roaming all over the underside of your silk little excuse for a nightgown you had on. Soft perky tits being palmed by his big rough hands.

- “Fuck you just say t’ me sweetheart?” The talk man looked at you. His lip twitched in annoyance. How dare you deny him cumming inside his pussy?

- You wave the condom in his face. He looked so damn good, his lips were puffed up. Chest littered with your own makes you put on him. “I’m serious Toji. I’m not getting pregnant”

- he grabbed the square foil and looked at you.

- then he had the audacity to toss it behind his shoulder. Grabbing your legs and tugging them upwards, tossing you back on the bed with a yelp.

- “Tch….this pussy belongs to me baby. If I don’t fill it up just how you need, who will?”

- You said fuck the condoms after that. making that birth control appointment the very next day.

- toxic baby daddy toji! who still sends flowers to your job randomly just so your co workers know who you belong to still

- “Um (Y/N)? There’s another bouquet for you down stairs” Your make co worker had uttered to you in annoyance. The man had been trying for weeks to ask you out.

- You took the bouquet from him offering him an awkward smile…before you shuffled away to the empty break room to call the culprit of your third set of orchids and peonies

- “Hi babe” He was quick to answer you.

- bastard

- “I think Kenji gets the message you’re trying to send” You will never tell him that it made you blush like a school girl whenever your work friends squealed whenever he sent you random gifts. it didn’t help that they thought your baby daddy was a walking sex god.

- You loved knowing that regardless you had his baby, and she was adorable

- You hear his voice drop and seriousness over takes his voice

-You could practically see the creases of his eyebrows as he frowned

- “Good, because it wasn’t a message doll. It was a warning”

- “Funny, I don’t see a ring on my finger or a man’s last name on my ID” with that you quickly hung up and turned off your phone just to fuck with him

- serves him right

- toxic baby daddy toji! who is such a good dad. he’s an amazing dad to Megumi. Spoils the little boy rotten because Toji thinks KNOWS his son deserves it. Of course his little girl too!

- Your two year old little girl Rin is a perfect mix of the both of you

- She takes after him in a lot of ways

- And Toji couldn’t be prouder. His chest puffs up with pride whenever he talks about his kids

- “Yeah, the teacher called us the other day to tell us how amazing of a student Megumi is” Toji brags to his business associates. Leaning up against the bar, his suit undone and a pink tinge to his cheeks from all the scotch he had been drinking. Celebrating another business venture of his. More money, more respect in his industry, more of a reason to make you even prouder of him.

- because it mattered to him most.

- “Says he’s gonna be going up to higher level classes than the rest of his classmates. Smart kid , just like his old man” He clinks his glass to his associate with a smirk.

- toxic baby daddy toji! that you still wake up the next morning after he fucked you into the bed all night to cook breakfast for.

- A slap lands on your ass as you reach over to grab your panties to slip them on. they had been carelessly thrown at the edge of the bed, you were truly shocked to find that they weren’t even ripped

- by the way he had gone feral over your new lingerie you would have assumed the poor fabric was torn

- “What do you want to eat?” You asked softly after slipping your robe in. Toji yawned and moved his hair out of his face. His eyes lazy and still sleepy

- “Mmmm, whatever you want to make me mama”

- “Ok, I’ll get the Keurig started. Went to the grocery store yesterday before you came over and got the coffee pods you like so much” You rub his chest softly, as he presses faint kisses on your jaw and shoulder

- “Always taking care of me n the kids sweetheart, thank you” He mumbles against your neck, his breath fanning against your pulse making you get goosebumps on your skin

- …everything felt right for just a moment.

- “Papa! I’s awake!” You hear your daughter yell from her room. Waiting for him to come get her

- and you hear an annoyed mumbled soon after from Megumi who was trying to bask in his weekend and no school

- You giggled softly “I’ll go get Gumi”

[yandere-sins]

Cupcake

Okay I will admit I've been soft-yandere yearning for a while now, but it's my birthday and I deserved them!! There’s nothing better than some self-indulgent fanfiction (;

Fandom: Call of Duty Characters: Yandere!Ghost x Reader Warnings: Yandere, Mentions of Punishments/Kidnapping, Forced Relationship, Emotional Distress

You didn't react to the sound of boots on concrete floor or the lock of the door clicking, hinges squeaking as someone entered the room.

Giving him attention was pointless.

You knew too little about him to get under his skin with words alone. Every bicker seemed to bounce off his broad chest with so much strength, it hit you right back in your face. You could never keep your arguments from sounding like childish complaints, and he chuckled at anything as direct as "I hate you!"

Instead, this man—"Ghost" you reckoned he called himself—seemed to bask in every minute of your putrid hatred. You could always assume the wisp of a smile beneath his mask, his eyes searching for yours no matter how much you glared at him. He possessed no inhibitions whatsoever, pushing, pulling, throwing you wherever he wanted, when he wanted, and not always gently mind you.

Yet, he pulled off his gloves before touching you, wiping the tears from your eyes and cheeks while he told you to stop crying now. That everything was okay and you shouldn't ruin your pretty face. He squeezed into the bed with you—the mattress too small for him alone, a coffin for both of you—shielding your body with his from the door so neither friend nor foe would see you first if they came inside.

Ghost made sure to top off your food with the ingredients you liked from his own plate when you were visibly upset. And on the nights when you were unconsolable, he pulled you on top of his chest despite the struggles, resting your head above his heart while he played with your hair or held your hand, intertwining your fingers.

It was hard to say what was going on in that man's head. His eyes spoke of wonders you couldn't see, but his punishments were so severe, so unforgiving as if you had personally harmed him in another life. You could be glad that you could still count ten fingers on your hands and ten toes on your feet, seeing how his mood shifted unpredictably at any moment you two were together.

So, it was best not to acknowledge him.

Even when everything inside you screamed profanities at this bastard, you tempered yourself with deep breaths. A deep inhale through the nose, and a long exhale through the mouth. Deep in, long out. Deep in, and a long breath out...

Zing.

The unique sound of a zippo reached your ear despite your meditation having been able to fade out his presence behind you. This sound was unexpected, new. Ghost and new impressions combined as well as fire and gasoline, so this was scary. You didn't know if he picked up a smoking habit or would burn you just from the sound alone.

You couldn't help the rather violent reaction to the fear that snapped your muscles tight. Jumping into action, you threw the blanket you had wrapped around yourself away, sliding into the farthest corner away from him. Your eyes widened as you took in the view in front of you, time coming to a brief halt as you mustered the absolute unit of a man in front of you holding a... cupcake.

Blue wrapping, yellow icing, and a flickering candle on top.

Ghost snapped the zippo shut after he had waited out your reaction, his shoulders relaxing after he concluded you wouldn't do something stupid. You had just been surprised. He let the silver square sink into his right pocket while the small flame illuminated his mask in a warm yet even more spooky way than it always was.

"Happy Birthday," he said, tearing you out of your state of shock. Your gaze jumped from the mismatched-colored cupcake to his eyes that rested on you, full of that disgusting, heart-wrenching adoration he harbored for you. Things were calm, too calm. Ghost was too relaxed, only holding the cupcake and not a weapon or anything remotely dangerous in his other hand. You couldn't trust the peace. Couldn't rely on his words or the actions you were seeing.

"Wait, what?" it suddenly hit you, your eyes widening. "Is it... Is it really my birthday?"

Prying your eyes off your captor, you looked to your right, to the small table across from the bed where Ghost had hung up a calendar for you. He'd been crossing off days diligently for you since you couldn't be bothered to keep up with the task on some days, Ghost knowing that time seemed to pass you by in weird intervals without a window in your room. And he was right. Damn.

Taking another step toward you, you didn't cower away, letting your guard down as you breathed out heavily. That meant you had vanished from the face of the earth for months now. No one would come looking for you anymore; the hope of your survival and return would have been smashed. What a depressing thought on your birthday, your family and friends surely heartbroken about your absence, just like you were.

The bed creaked as Ghost sat down, his weight shifting the mattress in a way that made you aware of his closeness. You collected your legs, keeping them away from him to not give him any chance of quickly grabbing you. But when Ghost held out his hand, it was filled by the cupcake stretched towards you, and he handed it over without another word.

Your eyes flicked back and forth between his and the pastry, but hesitantly, you picked it up, feeling the squishiness of it, a sweet smell drafting into your nose. The warmth of the ficker licked at your skin as you held the cupcake in front of you. So small yet so thoughtful. You thought a whole lot about this psycho, but to think he'd remember your birthday when not even you did? You couldn't even remember when you told him the date, much less expected him to prepare something for you.

Not like there was anyone else who'd care about it now.

Immediately, tears shot into your eyes as you realized you were truly alone. No one would come to save you, and nothing would change unless you could win against your captor. Even when he was with you, you were still alone. And even when you blew out the candle, wishing for these things to change, you knew the wish was wasted.

Sniffling, you bit into the cupcake, frosting getting stuck on your nose and lips, but you didn't care. Sugary sweet and buttery, the taste of homemade cupcakes like your mother would have made them coated your tongue and teeth, remaining there even when you swallowed, bitterness clogging your throat while the delicious treat produced enough serotonin to jump in joy.

You managed to devour half of it before the tears and stuffy nose caught up with you. Even your free hand couldn't wipe away all these emotions overrunning you. Fear, pain, hopelessness. The feeling of being stuck here and so, so alone. It needed two more hands, big, calloused, and warm, to gently hold your face between them, wiping relentlessly while hushing you softly.

"It's alright, darling," Ghost murmured, his voice invading your brain that couldn't detect all these phantom pains you were feeling but soothed them regardless. "I'm here. Everything will be okay, sweetheart."

It certainly wasn't what you wanted to hear, but it did the trick, keeping you from the panic attack that slowly built inside you. Wiping your nose with your sleeve, you took another bite, sniffling and with tears falling relentlessly still. But Ghost's hands never disappeared. Instead, his thumb began to wander, brushing off crumbs as you devoured the rest of your treat, leaving nothing of this kind gesture for him as you were unwilling to share what little happiness you had been given.

Crumpling up the paper around the blown-out candle, you threw the trash away, finally having both hands free to wipe your own face and get a grip on yourself, your vulnerable side having come out shamefully. But even when you pushed away his hands, Ghost's presence right next to you didn't vanish, his body now much closer than before.

"Happy Birthday," he said again, gripping your shoulders. You huffed lightly, feeling exhausted after your cry, but before you could react, the sudden feeling of lips against yours threw you off.

You hadn't even noticed him pulling up his mask to reveal his mouth, lips more greedy and desperate than ever finding yours. Teeth and tongue played and nibbled, not so gently asking for entrance, and you... gave up. You had no strength to resist. Play a game you were bound to lose anyway, Ghost always cheating. And immediately, feeling your surrender, his hands slid back to your face, cupping your cheeks so he could deepen the kiss.

It didn't help. Didn't soothe the aches in your heart and didn't make the tears stop, but the intrusion of his tongue and the sweet taste now coating it distracted your thoughts. Ghost seemed to try to tell you that no, you weren't alone. You'd never be. He'd always be with you like he swore up and down. He'd protect you, take care of you, and love you.

Kidnapping, locking you away, and forcing you to do what he wanted didn't exactly scream protection, care, and love to you. But an annoying, nagging voice started to speak up in the back of your mind. He wasn't wrong. As long as you had to endure this horrific living arrangement, he'd be with you. He didn't leave you alone, didn't forget your birthday. You doubted even that he spent a single moment of downtime without the thought of you on his mind, considering how obsessed he was.

It would never be enough to satisfy you, though.

There was no way he could ever mean enough to you to make you love him. You'd never forgive him, never submit to him fully, body and soul. But at least on that day, the day that grieved you so—a joyous occasion turned bittersweet by your suffering—you weren't alone. He was there with you. He cared. Did he care enough?

"You're not going to sing for me?" you asked him, half-joking, half-challenging.

Ghost mustered you for a long moment, then you heard him huff, amused. He shook his head before pulling you towards him. You allowed it, no strength left to struggle. "Only because it's your birthday," he reminded you, and you caught the corners of your mouth turning upwards before you reminded yourself not to be amused by his banter.

His heartbeat was calm and gentle, nothing like the things you knew he could do to you. Ghost turned you both over until he could climb into bed with you, laying you down on your side, facing him and not spooning you like usual. It was a tight squeeze, but with his arms around you, face nuzzled into his chest, it was warm and comforting. Safe—for now.

Happy Birthday to you.

Happy Birthday to you.

You almost didn't want to believe him when he began to sing, keeping his voice low. Ghost never wanted to rourse the suspicion of anyone else that possibly lived next door to you. His gruff voice didn't really fit the upbeat song, even with his accent tingling on every word. This time, you couldn't help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, but you listened, regardless, while being held in his arms as if you were meant to be there.

Happy Birthday dear darling.

Wearily, you closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat mixing with his voice. The man you hated the most was holding you and singing to you as if it was the most normal thing in the world. As if it was meant to be this way all along, almost making you forget the pain and suffering he had caused you in the past. But when he held you like a rare treasure, fulfilled your wishes, and went out of his way to care for you, you almost believed his version of love to be true. You almost started to believe the many times he said he was doing all of this for one reason only: "I love you."

Maybe he did.

Happy Birthday to you.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

I feel like, Young!Pathetic!Konig would do REALLY well with a Older!Lady-Cougar!Reader, She's maybe been divorced twice and looking ta maybe become widowed this time? May-haps her current hubby has wealth and power but is a few screws short of being a good man towards our poor reader, and there's that Pesky prenup that makes it so she won't get ANYTHING in a divorce...buuuttt if the bastard has a bit of an....*Oopsie doodle*.... Maybe she's looking for someone to take care of her problem, and maybe she likes this young soldier boy, whose all too happy to help with *whatever needs* she might have? Likes how desperate he is for just her hand on his arm, likes how he's on his need begging for just a *taste* Likes that she can teach him how to please a woman, how to make her moan like no lover before....Likes how willing he is to kill the man she's married too...

Asfdf my brain short circuited ❤️ I know I said somewhere that I don’t write cheating but if it’s cheating a bad man with an even worse man König….

CW: 18+ MDNI. Age difference, F!dom/M!sub undertones, praise kink, cheating (your husband is an old dick), mating press & other shenanigans, murder & mentions of blood, König is a lovesick yandere in the making.

It was just one night.

Just one night to satiate your needs because your husband for sure never takes care of them.

But then the young pup you picked off from the pub pops into your workplace next week... With a large bouquet of flowers in his hand and a box of chocolate in the other, your desperate little “detour” looks like a boy who just got laid for the first time in his life.

“König…” you sigh and pull him to an empty breakroom before all your colleagues see you’ve cheated on your beloved husband with a man at least ten years younger than you.

“You can’t be here,” you start, trying to ignore the happy, greedy stares this little—big—soldier gives you.

He’s all the equal to his alias, looking like a king in the making with those wide shoulders and that fierce stare. But his hands are shaking, he guides those eyes to the floor as he puts the gifts on the table littered with crumbs and coffee stains, switches his weight from one foot to the other once you start to tell him how it is.

He listens dutifully as you try to explain how it was only one night, that he was incredibly lovely and you had so much fun but that you can’t see each other anymore. It was wrong of you to do so in the first place, you’re married, and you’re so, so sorry... You were just so sad and lonely.

You tell him he’s a good man. That he’ll find someone special, some lovely girl to call his own. He will find someone who can give him what he wants, someone who will cover him with kisses for bringing her flowers and sweets.

You try to explain it to him even as you get slowly chased into a corner, you try to tell him what a catch he is even when you get pinned to the wall by a hard, lean chest.

You try to tell him that he’s the perfect man for some other girl even when he pulls your strings aside and bullies his cock inside you.

One minute is all it takes as he huffs and groans and fucks you against the wall, your moans and his grunts barely muffled by shirts and fists and lips and skin. There’s lipstick on his clean, white shirt after he’s done with you, teeth marks where his shoulder meets his neck, a spittle of cum on your skirt as he pulls it down with shaky hands.

“Sorry,” he murmurs in your ear. “I just had to see you. I missed you so much...”

Your cunt is what he missed, any woman could see that. Got a taste of it last weekend and wouldn’t let you leave his place at all; a small, miserable flat of 25 square meters, with burned rice on the stove and a thin, cum-stained mattress on the floor. He fucked you on that mattress, four times because on the fifth attempt to part your shaking thighs, you told this horny lad you need to go home.

“I know, big boy. I missed you too. But you need to go now,” you say to your pretty lover. Ugly but pretty, in his own way, his utter lack of cruelty is what makes him beautiful in your eyes.

“I don’t want to,” he dares to argue back and claims your mouth, kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before.

“You have to,” you moan. “König–”

“I love you.”

You’re huffing, panting into each other’s throats as you realize he’s even younger than you thought. Fell in love with your cunt so easily, this big runt, thinks it’s meant to be just because you’re wet and he’s hard.

“Don’t be silly,” you huff and look at the drowsy smile, the messy state of this lovesick man before you fight your way out of his lap.

You want to cry, wail, scream from the injustice. Where was this silly young golden retriever six months ago? Why didn’t you meet him when you were single and sweet? Now you’re trapped in an unhappy marriage with some old fool who was cunning enough to trick you into a ludicrous deal with him. The prenupt you discovered only later, after he swore that you wouldn’t have to work a day in your life and that everything that belonged to him would be yours one day. In reality, you’ve had to beg for every crumb, act the part of a trophy wife who also has to work herself to death. And he won’t even fuck you, only wants you to massage his back and his cock while you’re left all alone without love, without a single kind word.

But König never lets you go: not in a way you beg him to, no, he always shows up at your door. Sneaks into your lonely room from the window, licks you to ruin while you laugh and tell him no, fucks you three times a night, crawls under the bed when a cleaning lady almost catches you two. He shows up at cafes, restaurants, conferences, parties, everywhere where you go but your husband won’t.

He’s so reckless that you have to teach him to be more patient, more gentle. You guide his fingers and his head, even his cock, while locking your eyes with his so that he knows when he’s doing it right. You praise him for a good, unhurried fuck, cup his face and kiss him when he gives it to you nice and slow. Anyone can see he'd want to ram it in until there’s nothing left of him and you, but you kiss and kiss and kiss him until the poor boy moans and cums without permission, just from that tiny taste of intimacy and love.

He gets pets, smooches and caresses, blowjobs that leave him shaking and breathless on the bed. He looks like he has no brains left after you’re done with him, looks a little helpless when you climb on top of him and help yourself with his cock after he only just came.

He’s always up in no time, especially if you tell him he did well. Stares at you and your breasts like you’re a vision from heaven, drools on them once when you won’t let him have a lick. Mopes when you laugh at his predicament, and won’t stop brooding even when you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he’s never mad at you for long, not if you call him sweetie or your silly apple crumb, not if you let him fall asleep in your bed, partly on top of you. There’s always a wet spot on your back if he’s the big spoon, he begs you to sleep naked as he does, says it’s better for your health and then teases you with his fingers come morning, probably thinking he’s so very clever. Takes you to the theater and offers you expensive port wine and cake, tells you how to steal a car, how to shoot any gun. Gives you a hungry kiss in public when you tell him he has to act like he’s your cousin from abroad, vanishes for weeks to his training, sends letters instead of texts, and tells you he’s going to be a big boss someday.

It’s hard to imagine this serious but silly mess as an intimidating officer, not even when you know he has the size and looks for it. He’s too innocent and needy, doesn't know how the real world works yet. Thinks he’s immortal just because he’s young...

There’s a certain darkness in him, and you mistake it for the remnants of some turbulence of his teenage years, just some wrath of a boy who never got what he wanted. Who wouldn’t be a little pissed and impatient in their twenties? He probably doesn’t even know what he wants: hell, you don’t know what you want.

“Like this...?” He asks demurely when he lifts your knees to your ears and sinks his cock into you inch by inch, carefully as if it’s the first time you’re making love.

“Just like that,” you whisper as he spreads you so wide you can’t even breathe, fills you up deliciously, like no one else before. His eyes never leave you, not even when he uses your hole as a place to bury himself and all his bad memories, not even when he makes you squirt like you’re nothing but an oasis in a desert that never ends.

But you know he comes to you for other things than just that.

He comes to you for kind words, breathy praise, soft touches and ruffles of his hair. He comes to you for practice and to get his sense of self in order. He’s your pretty knight in shining armor when others have called him ugly, he’s your strong bull when others have ridiculed his disproportionate limbs. He’s your safe haven, your sunshine, your crazy, silly man, your soldier and your savior, and he soaks up your love and attention like a sponge: every drop gets gulped down like he’s a man dying of thirst. He doesn’t take sips, he doesn’t know how to, and you on the other hand don’t know how to quench the raging drought inside him, long after yours has been satiated.

You sleep like Romeo and Juliet just before their death, and fuck like rabbits in the spring. He takes you in the car, in the closet, in the toilet, in other people’s beds, even at the alley one night.

“I love you,” he always says after he has spilled his cum – it’s like a ritual or a prayer, and you always reach for the baby hairs of his neck in return, and give them the gentlest caress.

“I love you too,” you whisper one night – it just slips when you stroke his cheek. It never comes as a surprise that he gives you the most miserable pair of puppy eyes you’ve ever seen.

He knows about your situation, knows enough that you’re trapped and unhappy. But you never knew he saw you as a victim. If anything, you feel like he’s the victim here. Poor boy, saving what little he has for a future with some woman who knows nothing about true love... You’re not the one for him, you’re not even a silly little sex kitten any young soldier would want to play with. You’re just some bored, abandoned wife who wants to feel something, mean something to someone. But you love him enough to know that you’ll let him go when he wants to move on. As bitter as it makes you feel, you know you’ll give him to someone younger and more beautiful, someone who will love as passionately as he does. Anything to make him truly happy.

But the next evening, König doesn’t climb in through your window. He uses the door, the inside door, and you jump from the bed and hurry to him in your nightgown, the only gift your husband ever gave you.

“I killed him for you,” he says, your soldier boy from Austria, your good, good boy with a good, big cock.

You only now see that his hands are stained in blood, and nothing shakes anymore: your wannabe sniper is as calm as ever when he confesses he’s murdered someone.

“...What?”

He comes to you and cups your face, the blood on his hands both wet and cold. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, not even after he’s had a good fuck. The boy who no one ever loved has turned into a man, but what kind of man… You shiver in his clutch, unsure if you’re about to suffer a heart attack from fear or love.

“He didn’t suffer... Much,” he says, his cracked lips only a breath away from yours. “Knives can be messy…”

You gulp while staring into the deep, dark abyss of his eyes, the innocent baby blue nearly swallowed by the darkest of all loves.

This is not how you thought things would go… You were supposed to give the old man the finger and divorce during the summer. Put your finances in order so that you can escape. Maybe fuck König on the side and see if he’s still the man of your dreams once you’re happily divorced.

Now he’s telling you you’ll marry as soon as possible, or that if you want a summer wedding, he can wait a few months… He tells you you have nothing to worry about, he won’t go to jail, not this time. He’ll take care of you now; he just got promoted. You don’t ever have to be sad again.

“Don’t worry, my love,” he says when all words have finally escaped you. “Now we can be together. Forever…”

[leighsartworks216]

Hii I saw ur reblog about the kiss prompts!

I choose - "if you win, i'll kiss you"

With nervous kiss and height difference! 😳🙏

I actually had a hard time trying to fit these prompts together but I think I did pretty well!

Warnings: knife throwing, height difference

Word Count: 1,327

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

“What’s that make it now? 12 to…?”

“You’re such an ass.”

“Come now, dear, you’re being too harsh - my memory isn’t what it used to be, you know. How many wins do you have?”

Your glare could have burned a hole right through him, all the while Astarion looked every bit the smarmy bastard he was. He just loved teasing you. It satisfied him to no end to peer down at you as you fumed. Steam could come pouring out your ears and he’d still have that smug smirk on his stupid face.

You huffed through your nose, fighting the growing urge to throw the dagger right at his head - you’d miss anyway. This whole game started when you’d tried throwing a knife at a goblin as a last ditch effort. You missed horribly, and Astarion just couldn’t let it go. “Zero.”

He gasped dramatically and laid a hand on his chest. “Not a single one?! Well, this won’t do!” He leaned in, teeth showing as he grinned wickedly. “How about we make a little bet? Make things a bit more interesting.”

You scoffed. “So you can sweeten the deal in your favor and wipe the floor with me, again?”

“Hmm, I tell you what: in the interest of keeping things interesting, I’ll give you two throws. If you hit, you win.”

“Let me guess - you get three.”

He rolled his eyes. “Please, darling, I have some tact. I’ll get one throw. If I can hit the dummy square in the head, I win.” He accentuated the point by flipping his dagger in the air, easily catching it by the hilt by pure muscle memory alone.

You frowned, studying his face for any sign of deceit. You were getting really close to hitting… Gods, this is a terrible idea. You sigh. “Fine. What do you propose?”

A spark of mischief flickered in his eye, so quick it could have just been a trick of the light, but you knew him better than that. “If I win, you’re responsible for sewing up everyone’s clothes for a week.”

“And if I win?”

He smirked and lowered his face to be right next to yours, cold breaths tickling your ear as he whispered. “If you win, I’ll kiss you.”

Your heart raced as your face flushed. You could tell he noticed, too, when he pulled away with that self-satisfied look on his face. You cleared your throat, urging it not to shake as you grumbled, “It sounds like you’re making more out of this either way.”

“Yes, but one is certainly more desirable for you, no? Besides, what are the odds of you winning? You should have nothing to fear.”

You frowned, but he had a point. Resigned to your fate, your shoulders slump. “Fine. It’s a deal.”

“Excellent.”

You both lined up about 10 feet away from the straw dummy. It had numerous marks in its head and body, all landed by the vampire spawn beside you. But you felt good about this time. You felt you could actually hit it.

You didn’t hate the idea of kissing him, especially if it meant saving your hand the cramping of patching up your companions’ clothes, but, well… You’d never been kissed before. There was no reason why, you’d just never been close enough with someone to warrant it.

Your heart raced thinking about it. Your face was as warm as Karlach by now. But you swallowed down the feelings and focused. If you just aimed very carefully, you might be able to get it.

“You first, love.”

Gods, now was not the time for endearing pet names.

“Hush, fangs.”

He chuckled softly, but stayed quiet otherwise. You held the handle of the dagger, just as he showed you, and aimed. You took a breath, lifted it up, and with a quick swing it was flying through the air… Right over the dummy’s shoulder. You growled in frustration.

Cool hands smoothed over your shoulders, urging them to relax. “Take it easy, dear. Keep your wrist locked and keep your elbow tucked in when you lift the dagger to throw.” He slid his hand down your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake as he showed you how to keep your wrist straight and your elbow close to your ear. Then, he backed away and watched.

Shaking off the phantom feeling of him standing so close, you readied yourself again. You aimed, pulled your arm back so your elbow stayed tucked in, and steadied your wrist. With a deep breath, you threw the knife.

Time seemed to slow down as it flipped through the air. All sound faded away. You weren’t sure you were breathing. All you could focus on, all that mattered, was this stupid dagger.

In barely a second, the knife found its mark in the straw ribcage of the dummy.

A tidal wave of excitement and joy shot through your system. You cheered and pumped your fists in the air and gave a victorious yell that put Karlach’s to shame. And then, in the next instant, another knife flew by and lodged itself right next to yours. Your breath caught in your throat. Your eyes were wide when you turned to Astarion.

He smiled, part genuine and part impish. “Congratulations, darling. It seems you’ve won.” His smile only grew more flushed you became. He crowded into your space, peering down at you like a fox staring down a rabbit. “Don’t tell me you’re going to back out of our deal now.”

You swallowed. “I…” You glanced around camp, but no one seemed to be paying attention. They were all too busy preparing for the next day. You met his eye again and lowered your voice to a whisper, meant for his ears only. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His eyes widened, brows raising minutely. He never thought the brave, compassionate leader before him would be so… inexperienced, to put it kindly. You’d always seemed to carry this sort of confidence, he just assumed…

“We don’t have to,” he back-peddled. He’d never have suggested it if he’d known. Well… Okay he would, but that look on your face - puppy-dog eyed and uncertain. It twisted his insides. He started to step away, out of your space, but you caught his arm.

“No, I…” You took a breath to steady your shaky nerves. “I want this.”

“Are you sure?”

You nodded, but he could still feel the anxious way you fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. It was cute. And terrifying. You wanted him to be your first. It was only fair - you were his first after all.

Moving slowly to give you a chance to back out, he raised his hands to cup your jaw, fingers brushing over your pulse and tilting your head up. You were shorter than him, enough that he had to hunch a bit to meet your eyes like this. You held onto his arms, too unsure to hold him anywhere else. He leaned down, noses almost touching. He could see your eyes flickering from his eyes to his mouth; feel your heart beneath his fingers as it skipped with his proximity. In a final act of courage, you stood on your toes and met him halfway.

It was clumsy at first. You had no idea what you were doing, all you knew was his lips were soft and he tasted like wine. He gently tilted your head, smoothing out the initial uncoordinated start. His lips meshed with yours as he showed you exactly what to do. When you experimentally nipped at his lip, he almost groaned. It wasn’t perfect, but he was sick and tired of perfect. It was wonderful. He was almost reluctant to pull away. But you still needed to breathe, living thing that you were.

He chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, watching with rapture as you caught your breath, lips swollen so beautifully. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

---

Tag List:

@satelliteapotheosis @hypopxia @flsalazar @beverlybeav @angelofthorr @emiemiemiii @marina-and-the-memes @lynnlovesloki @aurasyn @furblrwurblr @cappsikle @mjmygd @thegirlsadventuresinwonderland @mheerdraws @kindadolly @httyd-chocolate @bloopthebat @pandimoostuff @chesb0red

[vampirecorleone]

"Do you like Huey Lewis and The News?" | "They're okay." | "Their early work was a little too new wave for my tastes, but when Sports came out in '83, I think they really came into their own, commercially and artistically. The whole album has a clear, crisp sound, and a new sheen of consummate professionalism that really gives the songs a big boost. He's been compared to Elvis Costello, but I think Huey has a far more bitter, cynical sense of humor." | "Hey Halberstram." | "Yes, Allen?" | "Why are there copies of the style section all over the place, d-do you have a dog? A little chow or something?" | "No, Allen." | "Is that a raincoat?" | "Yes it is! In '87, Huey released this, Fore, their most accomplished album. I think their undisputed masterpiece is "Hip to be Square", a song so catchy, most people probably don't listen to the lyrics. But they should, because it's not just about the pleasures of conformity, and the importance of trends, it's also a personal statement about the band itself. Hey Paul! TRY GETTING A RESERVATION AT DORSIA NOW, YOU FUCKING STUPID BASTARD! YOU, FUCKING BASTARD!"

American Psycho (2000) dir. Mary Harron

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Grocery Shopping with König [539 word drabble]

No warnings, food talk, König is a goof.

Grocery shopping with König is a nightmare.

The old adage of “Don’t shop hungry” is impossible, the man is never not hungry.

He’s also a frugal bastard.

Your freezer is always filled with marked-down food that had to be frozen lest they spoil. You swear there’s been a whole rotisserie chicken just stuffed at the back of the freezer for over a year.

“But Biene, it’ll just go to waste.”

“But it’s such a good deal! Fifty pence off!”

“Why not, we could make something interesting with… pickled onions and mini frankfurters! I can make you Fleishsalat!”

And so on.

Today, you’re sneaking off to the store on your own. You’re on the last dregs of your paycheck for the month and you need to just get the essentials. No more, no less.

“Where are you off, Beine?” You hear him call from the bedroom, it’s early, and you had hoped he would sleep in. He usually does after a long deployment like the one he’s just been on.

“Just popping to the shops, go back to bed,” you insist, already shouldering on your coat, desperately wishing you’d just lied and claimed you were going for a jog.

“Ah bitte, let me come with,” you hear him bumbling around in your bedroom and groan. You know you can’t literally run away from him… Or can you?

You seriously consider it for a moment, but give up on the idea as your giant boyfriend trots like an excited puppy up to you. He’s dishevelled and wearing odd socks, but you can’t help but smirk at how handsome he looks.

“Ok, but if you’re coming with me,” you start, squaring up to him with a best a no-nonsense look you can muster on your face, “We have to stick to the list, no deviations, no bargains, just the…” you quickly count the number of items on the list, “twenty-four things I have written down, are we clear?”

“Javol, of course Biene, in and out, no distractions,” he holds his hand over his heart as if undertaking a solemn vow and you roll your eyes.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” You mutter, almost to yourself as you usher him out of the door.

“You offend me, liebling, I’m a man of my word.”

Two hours later you’re back home with double the amount of items your list. Handfuls of food stuffs to be frozen immediately, some junk from the World Foods aisle, and a bouquet of roses that Kö grabbed when you weren’t looking.

At least he paid for everything, which meant you weren’t feeling the financial strain quite so hard this month.

“I’m sorry Biene,” he whispers against your temple as he wraps his arms around you from behind as you try and play freezer-Tetris to fit the new wave of bargains in the cramped space, “I’ll buy you a bigger freezer.”

You almost snap at him that isn’t the problem, not by a long shot, but at the end of the day, Kö’s little quirks like this are just part of who he is.

And in the grand scheme of things, it’s such a small thing to worry about.

Because you love the big oaf.

No matter what.

CoD Masterlist Grocery Shopping with Gaz Grocery Shopping with Ghost Grocery Shopping with Soap  Grocery Shopping with Price

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DOWN IN THE DUST ] (Preview)

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WARNINGS: [ NSFW ] + [ MNDI ] + [ MENTIONS OF GORE/VIOLEMNCE ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ AGE GAP ] + [ COWBOY AU ]

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Cowboy Alastor teaches you how to shoot, and every time you hit the target, he gives you a kiss and soft praise.

“Good one, darlin’”

“Keep your arm out and straight, sugar.”

“Mhm, just like that, square your shoulders and eyes forward, sweetheart.”

You do as he says, glancing up at him, smiling softly as he tips his head in approval. “Shoot, darlin’,” he commands, and your eyes lower from his, settling on the target as he instructed, and your finger pressing on the trigger of his gun right in time with his command.

“Bang!”

The first man who'd dared to put his hands on you fell to his knees, coughing up blood as the life left his eyes, and Alastor erupted into maniacal laughter while his body dropped to the dusty ground. “Good shot, sweetheart,” he boasts, grinding wide, leaning down just enough to nuzzle his nose against your cheek, “Give me some sugar,” he coos lowly, eyes narrowing as you peer at him innocently, blushing wildly as his lips met yours. “Mhmmm,” he hums, an oddly giddy sound despite the dark situation, but you're instead used to his strange amusement.

He was a bounty hunter, after all, a lethal one at that, and recently, you'd become an investment of sorts to him.

You knew him long enough to know that killing was his favorite pastime, and killing bastards who thought it was a grand idea to threaten and harass you was an even better form of entertainment for him.

The men he'd rounded up in front of you fit the second criteria perfectly.

Alastor pulled back from the kiss, tipping his hat up as you looked back at the last two men standing a yard away. He insisted they face you head-on, that they see the satisfied look in your bright eyes as you picked them off one by one. Though you usually held yourself modestly in the presence of others, that facade came tumbling down in the thralls of Alastor’s encouragement. “Sorry for your loss, gentlemen, but I think it's only right you give my little lady a fair shot, seeing as you all ganged up on her without warnin’.” He chuckled as they let out muffled cries through their makeshift gags, hands tied behind their backs, and guns lying at their feet. You almost felt bad for them, but what little guilt you harbored washed away as Alastor tapped your backside with one hand while the other lifted your gun toward another victim.

“You think you can hit em’ right between the eyes, chere?”

You hummed, smiling with a playful glint in your eye while zeroing in on the man before you.

“I think I can manage it, cher. You've taught me well enough.”

Alastor chuckled, stepping back with a proud grin, pulling out a cigarette to light in his mouth, “That's my girl. Take them straight to hell..”

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A little sneak peak. ❤️ Tell me what you think!

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

I watch this edit at LEAST 5 times a day for sanity purposes (I'm actually going insane tbh) ❤️ credit to creator

[proposalanonaita]

FINE.

The date is fast approaching (seven and a half weeks left), I've had sufficient quantities of Malbec, and I'm realizing that whoever suggested that writing my vows would be MUCH more harrowing than talking about my feelings to internet nobodies.....had a fair point; I should at least attempt to put it all to words before I write the real drafts.

Ugh.

I should probably start by stating that I'm WELL aware of who I am. Rest assured, I know that I'm stunningly abrasive. And controlling. And petty, conniving, misanthropic, or whatever other adjectives you've been calling me in the tags (yes, I DID read those, and it IS weird of so many of you to be calling for my divorce. I thought you were supposed to be nicer than I am?).

All this to say, I've always been cognizant of being an acquired taste. Partly because I've always BEEN an acquired taste. I tone it down in public, and in most of my personal relationships, but I am, down to my core, a Mean Mother Fucker.

With partners before my fiancé, I had to make myself more palatable to stay together. The men I dated were FAR too nice, and snipping with them at all felt like I was a heavyweight champion facing off against a toddler. So I reigned it in. It worked, but no matter how well things were going on paper, I didn't feel like I was myself with any of them.

I was even less myself with The Shithead. I'm NOT getting into the entirety of that particular tire fire here, you little freaks already know FAR too much about me and I won't have you tagging the gory details of the worst part of my life with #bob the builder/fuzzy wuzzy or whatever you're into.

He was horrible to me, I turned dangerously timid, I'm lucky I had enough Mean left in me to get the fuck out. He's changed enough by now that I considered inviting him to the wedding, it was bad enough back then I'm very glad I didn't. Enough said.

...I'm talking quite a bit up here because I still hate having to say any of the next part. Call me an emotionless villain for that if you want to, I am far too employed and 30 to care very much.

Ugh, ugh, ugh.

So.

The thing is, there are people that KNOW me, and there are people who LIKE me. My parents know me, and I've never doubted they love me, but that's not LIKING me as a person. That's a contractual obligation of birthing me. My friends like me, some even like me when I'm catty, but I need to be careful to hold myself back, at the risk of losing them. At best, people loved "me", not ME.

For decades, this was just the way the world was. It was a fact of life- The sky is blue, I'm secretly unlovable, the Earth goes around the sun.

And then, against all odds, I found my fiancé, who manages to do both.

He sees ALL of me. Every square inch, every fleeting thought, every horrible little quirk of my rotten personality. And THEN, as if that weren't bad enough, he turns around and ENJOYS it all. He's not just tolerant of my least palatable traits, he's delighted. The more I show him, the more he likes.

It's awful. I'd say he stole my heart, but that sounds too pleasant. It's more like my heart is a cockroach he could squish at any moment, and I trust him not to, and I'm just supposed to wake up every morning and do the dishes and go to work as if this doesn't mean we're clearly orbiting Saturn. The sky is PURPLE now. What the fuck.

He could at least do me the favor of being completely, 100% perfect, because then I could blame his total lapse in judgement on that, but NO. He's a BASTARD.

I'm engaged to a big sweaty idiot who annoys me on purpose. He's terrible with his money. He tries to take me on HIKES, and JOGS, and CAMPING TRIPS. His taste in every single art form known to man is GARBAGE, he's constantly leaving his dirty socks on the floor, and he's such a bad driver I'm amazed he still has a license.

I've told him all of that to his face, and I've MEANT it, and he's just called me a bitch and asked me what I want for dinner. He knows that I'm unlovable, agrees that all those parts of me are in here, and then loves me anyway.

He loves me. He LOVES me. He loves ME.

I don't know what I'm meant to do with it all, but there's clearly SOMETHING wrong with his brain, so I guess I'll have to keep him, if only for his sake.

[lady-phasma]

A willing pawn

Daemon Targaryen x fem! Dornish!reader

A huge thank you to @zaldritzosrose for this amazing board. You read my mind and I don't know how you did it! An equal thank you to @black-dread for providing the missing puzzle piece to make this fic work.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, hurt/comfort if you squint, little bit of size kink, use of an infantilizing pet name (because Uncle Daddy Daemon), flimsy plot, creampie (and I truly did not plan what was going to happen there, Daemon just does whatever he wants in my brain, cheeky bastard)

Summary: You had a mission in the Stepstones, but he wasn’t as fearsome, this prince, as you had been led to believe. I’m not sure about my soft!Daemon but here he is. 4k words

The encampment was dark, lit only by dying fires. This night had been chosen because it would be moonless. Your soft-soled shoes were silent on the rocky earth as you crept between tents. You had planned your path at sunset, marking in your memory where the prince’s tent stood. As the orange light had faded from the sky, your stomach had begun to knot and twist with anxiety.

Could you really follow through with this? You knew you were able but were you capable of such a thing. The circumstances didn’t offer you any choice in the matter. Prince Qoren Martell wanted to avoid the costs of war, in gold and lives. His war counsel thought of every possible measure they could take to win this war, including involving House Yronwood. You were a cog in a larger plan and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

You ducked around another tent and tiptoed to the edge of the large royal tent. This is as far as you had gotten in your strategy. From this point forward you could only hope for luck, as stealth wouldn’t matter when faced with the prince’s guards. You were sent here with the barest of plans and what little plan there was, was foolish. You listened for movement inside the tent and heard none. As you neared the front you expected a half-dozen guards but saw only two. You held your breath.

You couldn’t walk right up to the tent and demand to be let in. Sneaking in seemed to be impossible, but if you could, what next. Your heart pounded in your ears. Godsdamn it, you thought. You let out a shaky breath and slunk back into the shadows. When you turned around you almost walked face-first into a giant wall of armor.

The guard almost threw you into the tent but did not relinquish his grip on your elbow. You grunted and jerked your arm away from him as you stumbled into the large room. You caught your balance and stood up straight. The ground was covered in rugs. A table laden with maps and documents stood in the center. Next to it sat the Prince.

“We found this creeping about outside, your highness,” the guard grumbled.

Prince Daemon lounged in his chair, legs outstretched, crossed at the ankles. He was peeling a pear, paused mid-knife-stroke, and looked up from under his brows. They raised slightly, seemingly amused, but he didn’t bother to lift his head. He resumed his peeling.

“Leave us,” he commanded without looking up. You heard the guard’s armor as he left but didn’t take your eyes from the prince.

“What terrible deed have you been sent to do child?” He didn’t look at you, only sliced a bit of pear and popped it in his mouth. When you didn’t respond he brushed aside papers to make space on the table and laid down the knife and pear. He wiped his hands on a napkin, dropped it next to them, and stood up. Finally, he looked at you. He finished chewing, swallowed, and wiped one corner of his mouth with his thumb.

He strode toward you, sucking the pear juice off his thumb and assessing you. Much of your face was covered by your hood, stay strands of dark hair were visible but your features were cast in shadow. He dipped his head slightly and looked closely, standing only a few paces in front of you. His silver hair swung loose from his shoulder. The violet of his eyes was unnerving. You squared your shoulders.

“I am no child,” you replied, leaving off the honorific. He was no prince of yours.

“Is that so?” Daemon reached for your hood and flicked it back from your head. The only hint of surprise he allowed to show was a brief widening of his eyes. You were well aware the effect your father’s blue eyes had when set against the sienna skin you got from your mother. You narrowed your icy eyes at him.

“I’m gown enough to make it this far into your camp, am I not?” Daemon chuckled and flipped his hair back over his shoulder. He clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at you.

“I suppose so… but you did get caught, little one.”

Your cheeks flamed and you wanted to strike him but the smile on his face caught you off guard. Had he just winked at you? You were too frustrated to think and that wink made your blood boil. This was not going at all how you had expected when the guard snatched you up. Daemon didn’t so much as blink when you moved your hands from inside your cloak to push your hood back further. He was amused with you. The handle of your dagger glinted in the candlelight and caught his eye.

“So you were sent here to assassinate me?” He smiled that infernal smile. “Would you say it is going well?”

“Time will tell,” you answered through gritted teeth. Then he laughed at you, actually laughed. You clenched your hands into fists at your sides.

He took a step toward you and you tensed. You hadn’t the faintest idea what this man would do. You had only heard the rumors and propaganda in Dorne. When he reached out, you tried to take a step back from him.

“Uh-uh,” he commanded quietly. Then his hand dipped into your cloak and before you could move to stop him, he snatched your dagger out of your belt. He spun it lazily around, watching it dance in the light.

“This might have done the trick,” he spoke to the blade, not to you. “But I imagine someone with more experience should have been entrusted with it.” His eyes flicked back to your face. “Though, perhaps there were none as fierce as you.”

With absolutely no thought in your mind, you lunged forward and tried to grab the weapon from him. He deftly moved it out of your reach and grabbed your wrist with his other hand.

“As I said: fierce,” he quipped. You tugged your arm against his grasp to no avail.

“But I must!” You almost snarled at him. His expression wasn’t surprise but interest. He let you go and turned to lay your weapon on the table. When he faced you again a small smile was set on his mouth.

“Must you?” He raised an eyebrow. “If a child assassin has been sent to slay me, Dorne must be desperate indeed.”

“I am not a child! I am a woman grown, of 20 years!” You had no idea why this infuriated you but the prince knew that it did. He grinned again.

“Pardon me, my Lady. I should have said a ‘small’ assassin,” he mocked you. It was somehow kind. You were taken aback by his jest, by his demeanor. You hadn’t taken the time to pause and evaluate Prince Daemon. You had only been concerned with the ramifications of your failure.

Now that you looked, you saw a man not much older than yourself. A man who moved with experience in battle, with an ease not unlike your own. Graceful, even. Then he did the most unexpected thing. He extended his hand, offering you to sit in the chair opposite his. You had come here to threaten his life and now he was treating you like a guest! You gawped.

Before you could decide what to make of the situation, Daemon slid down into his chair and stretched his legs out again, completely unwary of you. He glanced at you one more time as he reached for his unfinished pear. You were too shocked to do anything other than sit. You closed your mouth and sat down across from him. You slipped your cloak off of your shoulders as you sat. Your common clothes weren’t uncomfortable but you weren’t used to them. You tried to adjust them as you sat but instantly became more frustrated. Daemon’s eyes on you didn’t help to easy your new-found insecurity. You were meant to have been unseen.

“Who sent you?” The blunt nature of his question startled you.

“And why should I tell you?” you retorted. You were behaving as if you were at home entertaining men you had grown up with. This was madness.

“I believe I am owed an explanation as it was my life you were planning to take. Also, what else is there to do?” He popped a slice of pear in his mouth. His eyes didn’t leave yours. “Let’s start with your name, shall we?”

You hesitated, but he was right: what else was there to do. You could sit in silence until he decided to have you executed. You could try to run from the tent only to be caught and executed sooner. So you told him your name and your house name.

“Very good,” he tossed the knife and pear back on the table. “What did Martell threaten? What predicament did he put you in?”

Your eyes widened. Was Prince Martell’s reputation so tainted, so sullied, outside Dorne?

“Not him,” you spoke quietly. “Though I suppose, ultimately, he knows. We are not a political house but we have wealth that is necessary for Dorne to succeed.” Your eyes flicked down from his at the last word. You weren’t sure why but you felt ashamed for being in this position, had all along if you thought about it.

“So if not the prince himself…” Daemon paused, waiting for your answer.

“His war counsel,” you replied. “They have many strategies in play, I’m sure, but one is to ‘motivate’ certain houses to bring the war to an early end. I have no knowledge of the other plans. I only know that my father was threatened. Whatever that threat was, it was powerful enough for him to send his youngest daughter to the Stepstones.”

There it was. You had spilled it out to the enemy in a gush and felt like vomiting or crying or fleeing. You looked up from your lap. Daemon was studying you. Once again he surprised you. Perhaps you expected him to mock you but the kindness on his face somehow made your situation more real. You bit your lip to stop the tears. You would not cry. You were angry and frightened and when the prince had called you a child it made those feelings more real.

“What choice did you have?” He sounded almost compassionate. This couldn’t be the petty tyrant you were warned against, who would rape, or torture, or kill you if you were caught. “You came all this way on an errand not of your choosing and meant to go through with it. That’s more than a little honorable, don’t you agree?”

You had no idea. You were confused and overwhelmed and angry. You had never been a zealot, but you had been more sure of your mission when the target was evil or cruel. Perhaps he was at times, but not now.

“I suppose so,” you muttered, trying to look anywhere but at him.

“Well what do I do with you now?” He leaned forward in his chair. “I can’t set you free. Yet I don’t want another prisoner. And you don’t want to return home as a failure. I can see that. I could keep you as a hostage and demand gold for your safe return. Would that keep your honor intact?”

You blushed, not just from his nearness but from the fact that he could see your thoughts so clearly on your face. You and your family would be dishonored if you returned unsuccessful. It would also be unfavorable to the prince to appear compassionate to would-be assassins.

“It would,” you answered. “But I do not think the ransom would be paid.”

“No? Not for a young woman as fierce and cunning as yourself? Not for someone so precious?”

Your eyes flicked up to his at this curious word. You watched him, suspicious, as he slid out of his chair and knelt in front of you.

“I think you’re quite frightened of either choice: being sent home or being held here. I don’t want you to be frightened. Maybe the Crone had a purpose for bringing you here.”

You felt your breath catch. He looked so sincere. He was intoxicating but you believed him. You didn’t want to feel relief at the prospect of no longer sneaking, hiding, being a stowaway, but you did. Almost instantly, you imagined a hot bath, a dress and not these rags, and food that wasn’t brown. Then something else flashed in your mind and the heat returned to your face.

Daemon slowly reached out to you and stroked the side of your face. He skimmed a lock of your hair with his fingers, watching it catch the light. Its deep brown shown with hints of gold. You studied him closely. When he turned his gaze back to you, your heart pounded in your chest. His eyes searched yours as he cupped your cheek in his palm.

“Gevie,” he whispered. You thought it was High Valyrian but you weren’t sure. Your lips parted almost involuntarily as you looked up at him. He leaned toward you, silver hair cascading off his shoulders. You felt his lips on yours and closed your eyes.

His hand holding your face felt safe. His lips were warm and tasted of pear. You dared not move. You were overwhelmed and confused. However, there twisted in your belly some need, some desire for him. Your chest ached with the delicious feeling of being safe. You didn’t question how this was possible so far away from home and with your “enemy” no less. So you kissed him back.

Daemon slid his other hand to frame your face. His kiss wasn’t rough, but it was deep. You had kissed men before, you were experienced in the most basic of ways. You realized now that all the men before had not kissed you, they didn’t see you. They saw a Yronwood daughter or practice for their marriage beds. You had made those choices willingly. You weren’t concerned with being married for political reasons and had enjoyed your freedom. Until now. In this moment, you felt… precious.

Tentatively, you raised a hand to him, your fingertips grazed his jaw and neck, and came to rest on his chest. He slid his hands from your cheeks as he broke the kiss. As if waiting for your permission, Daemon rested his hands on your upper arms. You kissed him in answer. His arms swept around you and scooped you up as he stood. Your head spun but you steadied yourself by putting your hands on the back of his neck.

Daemon sat you on his bed and smoothed your hair back from your face. He stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head. He dropped it on the floor as he leaned down to kiss you. You made room for him on the bed, drawing him toward you with your kisses. He knelt between your legs, kissed your neck, and slid a hand under your shirt. You arched your back, pressing into his palm.

He brushed the underside of your breasts with the tips of his fingers and his other hand glided up your ribs. He pushed your shirt up above your breasts, fixated on your hardened nipples. His hair slid over your chest as he took one nipple in his mouth. He propped himself up on one hand and cupped your breast with the other. You moaned and writhed under him. You instinctively ran your fingers through his hair and held him against you. Daemon groaned and the sound vibrated from your chest to your core. When he pulled away you realized you had been grinding against his leg and flushed. He smiled down at you.

Wordlessly, he guided you to raise your arms so he could remove your shirt. Then he began to unlace your breeches. You watched his muscles move as he slid your pants off. You lifted your hips and giggled a little when you plopped back down on the bed as he tugged them off your legs. You weren’t shy but the action was awkward and you were quite exposed now. He tossed the breeches on the floor and smoothed a hand up your thigh. He stared, rapt, at the dark hair between your legs, so different from the silver of his own.

You bit your lip as you looked from his face, down his chest, and to the evidence of his arousal. His breeches looked uncomfortably tight now. His hands absently stroked your legs and your lower belly but paused as you sat up. You held him between your legs. When you kissed his stomach he hissed in air through his teeth. Your hands grazed over his hips and to the laces in the front of his pants. You let your fingertips glide over the shape of his erection before undoing the knot. You kissed seemingly every inch of his stomach then looked up at him as your hand dipped inside. His face was curtained by his hair as he looked down at you. You smiled as you stroked him.

Daemon moved his hands from your legs, smoothed over your hair, and then gently pressed your shoulders back. You laid down, already missing the feeling of him in your hands, but the sight of him between your legs was almost as pleasant. He leaned over you, kissing your forehead gently, then your lips, and pressed his forehead against yours.

You gasped as his fingers slid between the lips of your cunt. He licked his lips and continued to explore your wetness. Stroking, searching, learning. He circled your opening, your clit, and back again. One finger slid in easily and he grinned. You lifted your mouth to his as you lifted your hips to his hand. He slid in a second finger.

“You are so tight, little one,” he grinned down at you. You rocked your hips against his hand and moaned in reply. You placed one hand on his arm, pulling him deeper into you. With the other you smoothed his hair behind his ear and trailed your fingers down his jaw. You drug your fingertips over his lips. His eyes were dark as he watched you pleasure yourself on his hand.

“More, Daemon, please,” you moaned, saying his name for the first time. Hearing his name come from your lips pleased him immensely.

“Say it again,” he breathed as he curled his fingers inside you.

“Daemon, please.”

Slowly and with a tinge of disappointment on his face, he pulled his fingers from you. He was enjoying the sight of you but couldn’t wait any longer. He freed his cock from his breeches. Then he slid his hands up your thighs to your lower back. As he sat back he guided you onto his lap. The transition was clumsy at first, legs bumping and twisting. You both smiled as you held onto his shoulders. When you knelt over him you rubbed your clit against his cock. You rested your lips against his forehead as you rocked your lips. You moved your mouth nearer to his ear and murmured his name.

Daemon lifted your ass and placed you above his cock. With one hand between you, he guided himself into you. You sank down onto him slowly, watching his face. He clenched his jaw tight. You felt his hand move back to your ass. He let you set the pace, let you move against him. You pulled up and then sank down again, taking all of him. The moan that came from your lips was lewd and deep. You clutched at his neck, the back of his head, fingers entwined in his hair. He groaned but did not move to meet your hips. You rocked back, then forward, finding your rhythm.

He kissed your chest and breasts. His hands stroked your ass and lower back, constantly moving. You leaned forward slightly and pressed yourself against him. At this angle he wasn’t as deep in you, but you found friction against his stomach. You ground your hips into him, almost, but not quite able to get what you needed.

“Seven hells,” he panted against you. His hips had begun to move in time with yours. Your fingers twisted tighter in his hair and you tried to find that much-needed angle again. When he realized what you needed he slid a hand between you. You threw your head back as his fingers circled your clit. You sped up, fucking him hard. He kept pace with you, circling and pressing his fingers against you. You couldn’t keep a steady rhythm. You felt him brace your lower back with his hand and pull you closer to him, steadying you, supporting you. You felt your climax tug at your core and sank further onto his cock with each stroke.

“Come for me,” Daemon whispered into your neck. You did. You cried his name, clinched your fists in his hair, and buried your face against his head. You sank all the way down onto him, thighs resting on his as you shook. Your cunt spasmed around his cock but he didn’t stop moving his fingers. He pressed into you with his hips, rocking under you, and bringing forth tiny gasps from you. You lips found his and you panted into his mouth. Tiny sounds mingled with his name flew out of your mouth with every movement of his fingers.

When you thought the overstimulation might be too much he moved his hand from between you. He slid his hand under your arm and pulled you down onto him by your shoulder. A new wave of pleasure crashed into you as he spilled into you. His hips stilled, holding his cock deep inside you. He came panting and moaning your name.

You wanted to sink all of your weight onto him. It took too much effort to support yourself on your aching knees. Neither of you wanted to move yet, though both of you needed to. You released your hands from his hair. You kissed him and smoothed his hair back from his face.

You smiled at him as you rose shakily from his lap. He helped you as much as he could, but your legs were numb and your head was empty. You all but fell back onto the pillows. He watched you grind your hips against the air as the last of your climax left you. His eyes were locked on his seed sliding out of you. He leaned forward, his legs shaking as well. You watched him through half-closed eyes and settled yourself on the bed. His fingers slid through his cum and you twitched as he grazed your throbbing clit. He looked into your blue eyes as he gathered more of it on his fingers. You smiled seductively as he leaned over you and raised his fingers to your lips.

You opened your mouth, your eyes never leaving his, and he painted your tongue with his seed. You closed your lips around his fingers and let him feel you swallow. He slid his fingers out and surprised you by kissing you deeply, tasting himself in your mouth.

You moaned into the kiss and wrapped your legs around his waist. You playfully pulled his weight on top of you. He let you but also guided you both to lay on your sides. Your legs intertwined and you were a tangle of limbs for a moment. Then you buried your face into his chest and breathed in deeply. You sighed as he smoothed your hair and rested his chin on the top of your head. You were quite small in his arms. Daemon breathed deeply as he stroked down your back, your buttocks, and up again. You curled against him, one hand between you, the other resting on his hip.

“I have you now, little one,” he murmured against the top of your head.

Masterlist

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Grinning Like a Devil

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 3539

Summary: Matt and the reader tease each other relentlessly at work. What happens when they discover that it’s more than just harmless flirting? One night of one too many drinks may prove just that. 

Notes: Some of my favorite Matt edits are to the song ‘Cruel Summer’ by Taylor Swift, and while I didn’t totally want to do another song based imagine for it (I have a different one for him in the works), I really love this cute little line for him. Plus I really need to write more fluff for him because everything is so angsty. This is, as so much of my fluff, a total mess, so I hope you guys enjoy. 

More Matt imagines: HERE

-

“And that’s three for me and… oh yeah, none for you,” you smirked, leaning on your pool stick. 

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about making fun of the blind guy?” Matt chuckled. 

“Matty, we both know you could have kicked my ass hours ago.” You shook your head and stepped towards him. “Stop toying with me and play.” 

Matt leaned towards you. 

For a second, you were afraid he could hear your heart racing in your chest, the butterflies in your stomach resuming their painful, wild dance. You faked a cocky laugh, letting him know you weren’t backing down. 

A grin formed on his lips. “Okay.” 

The next break landed three stripes. His next series of shots landed two more. You were right about one thing- he was perfectly capable of kicking your ass. The end of the game yielded only one shot for you while he swept the table. Hell, looked so bad for you, that you were half tempted to cheat and point him at the wrong ball. Somehow you felt he would know. 

Matt put up his pool stick and took yours with a smile. You tried to keep your jaw from dropping. 

He chuckled. “You asked for it.” 

You snapped out of your awestruck state and laughed. “Remind me to keep my mouth shut next time.” 

He paused and his smile shifted into a smirk. “Next time?” 

“Oh, that was just round one, Murdock. One of these days, I will beat you fair and square. Without you going easy on me.” 

He held out a hand. 

You took it. 

“Challenge accepted.” 

The touch sent a pleasant shock up your arm. His finger traced along the back of your hand as he pulled away, grazing your knuckles. Your breathing hitched and another smirk spread across his face. 

Bastard. 

“I’m going to get another drink,” he said. “Do you want anything else?” 

You cleared your throat to stop from squeaking. “Surprise me.” 

He nodded and headed back to the bar. You had to lean against the pool table to stop your knees from shaking. This was stupid. You saw Matt every day. 

But the way he smiled at you…

“Here.” Matt handed you a tall glass of a dark liquid.  

“What the hell is that?” You laughed through your grimace, holding the drink up to the light. It was clouded and hardly allowed any of the neon to shine through. 

Matt shrugged. “A surprise.” 

“You’re terrible.” 

“Oh, but you love me,” he teased. 

“Whatever.” You took a drink and immediately regretted it. The burning liquid traveled down your throat like black tar and despite how hard you tried, you couldn’t hold back the coughs. 

Matt laughed and sipped his perfectly normal beer. 

“Shut… up…” you sputtered. 

He kept laughing. It sent a surge of idiotic courage through your chest. 

You tapped the bottom of the glass against the pool table, took a deep breath, and gulped down the rest of the foul drink without breaking. You swallowed back the disgusted coughs and touched the empty glass to his chest. 

“Is that-” You winced at the taste still lingering in your mouth. “The best you’ve got, Murdock?” 

Matt chuckled and shook his head, setting the glass aside. You take a step forward on wobbly legs and stumble. His arms shot out to catch you and held you up against his chest. 

You both froze, dizzy from more than just the alcohol. 

“Maybe that’s enough for tonight,” he breathed. 

Having you this close, he didn’t need his hearing to know your heart started to race. And he knew, with your hands pressed against his chest, you could feel his too. 

“That’s probably a good idea,” you agreed, finding your footing again. 

The break of contact left a hollowness in his chest. His hand found your arm, both to steady you and to fill the space the lack of your touch had created. 

You closed your tabs and he insisted on paying, despite your protests. 

“After that toxic waste you downed, it's the least I can do,” he said. 

“Celebrating anything specific?” Josie wondered. Her eyes shifted curiously between the two of you and she gave you a smirk. 

Your face reddened. 

“We won a pretty major case today,” Matt explained with a smile. “The big bad land developers were defeated all thanks to Y/N’s investigating skills.” 

“Are you kidding?” You scoffed. “You and Foggy did all of the real work in that courtroom.” 

“Work we couldn’t have done without you.” He squeezed your hand. “Give yourself some credit. Without you, we’re just a couple of guys in suits and no case.” 

“Hey, don’t sell Foggy short,” you snorted. “He does all the real lawyering while you  stand there and look pretty.” 

A sly smirk spread across Matt’s face. “Pretty, huh?” 

“Goodnight, Josie,” you said, trying to hurry away, but Matt’s hold on your arm remained. Standing this close, his laugh vibrated through you. 

You walked out together into the chilly February evening. The brisk air bit at your bare arms, having forgotten your jacket in the office. You tried not to shiver. 

“Here,” Matt said. He slipped off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Thanks.” 

You tried not to think about how the fabric smelled like him- like cedarwood and leather. 

Matt kept his hold on your arm, less to guide himself and more to keep you from tripping on something. The heat of his fingers on your skin radiated throughout your body. You tried to keep your breathing normal, but it was like the air was getting thin. That last drink really was a bad idea. 

By the time you reached the door of your apartment, you were sure your flesh was burning up. You desperately dug through your purse, feeling the dread build up more and more as you searched. 

“Shit,” you muttered. 

“Everything okay?” Matt asked, brows furrowed in a way that was far too adorable for you to handle at the moment. 

“I, um,” you gulped. “I can’t find my keys. I must have left them at the office. Damnit.” You smacked your hand against the door, hitting it a little harder than you meant to and wincing.

Matt took your hand in both of his, holding you steady. “Hey, it’s okay.” 

“No it isn’t. You walked me all the way here and now I can’t get in and it’s too late to try to call me landlord and-” Your intoxicated brain spiraled into all of the things you’d done wrong that evening that led you to this moment. 

Getting drunk with the man you were in love with being numero uno. 

You started to hyperventilate. 

Matt put your hand against his chest so you could feel the slow and steady rhythm of his heart as he breathed. He took a deep breath, indicating for you to do the same. 

“Sweetheart, it’s okay, just calm down,” he said softly. “Can you do that?” 

You closed your eyes, took a few breaths, and nodded. 

“Sorry,” you said, sheepishly dodging his gaze. “Sometimes drunk-brain turns into anxiety-panic-brain and I have moments like that.” 

“You don’t have to apologize,” he smiled. Matt let go of your hand but kept hold of your arm. “Why don’t we just go to my place? It’s just a few blocks away. We can pick up your keys tomorrow.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat. 

“Like… spend the night?”

Matt gave you that famous smile. “I’m flattered, Y/N, but I’m afraid you would be taking advantage of me,” he teased. 

You shoved him playfully. “Shut up.” 

-

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been to Matt’s apartment before, but this felt different. Maybe it was that horrible, horrible drink still making your brain a little fuzzy, but the neon lights of the billboard outside lit everything in a beautiful, color-changing glow. 

The two of you sat on Matt’s couch and talked for what felt like hours. About nothing, about everything, about you, about him. 

“So I go every year now to commemorate the occasion,” you said confidently

“You have an anniversary for falling off of a swan boat in Central Park?” He snickered. 

“It was a formative moment in my childhood!” 

Matt held up his hands. “Okay, fair enough.” 

“When’s the last time you just took a walk?” You asked, leaning a little closer. “You know, stopped and smelled the roses? In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you slow down.” 

Matt swallowed and didn’t answer. You had a point. 

“You have to let yourself live, Matt. You can’t go around trying to save everyone.” You leaned closer, eyes falling to his lips. 

Matt drew in, unable to stop himself. How long had he thought about this? How long had he thought about telling you? When he thought about slowing down, he wanted to do it with you. You made him want to want to have a life. 

He pulled away. 

“I think you should probably get some sleep.”

You jerked back. 

“Right,” you said. “Thanks.”

What the hell had you been thinking? 

“I’ll sleep out here,” Matt said. He stood up and went to a cupboard in the hall. 

“Matt, you are not giving up your bed because I forgot my keys.”

“Too late, I already grabbed clean sheets.” 

“Matthew-”

“Y/N, really, it’s fine.” He said and from his tone, you knew there was no winning. Besides, you were embarrassed enough. Did you really just try to kiss him? You didn’t even feel drunk anymore, which you didn’t know if that made it better or worse. 

You hurried into Matt’s room and tried not to think about the fact that you were sleeping in his bed, under his covers, blanketing you in his scent. 

This whole night was starting to feel like a mistake. 

Matt listened to your heartbeat and felt the heat rushing to your face, kicking himself for making you feel like you’d done something wrong. He’d have to talk to you in the morning, when you were both sober, so you could have no doubt that what he wanted to say was true. 

You both went to sleep with butterflies in your stomach and thoughts of each other in your dreams. 

-

You woke up to a killer headache and the smell of coffee. You felt the sheets around you. Silk. Definitely not yours. 

The memory of the night before started to come back to you. 

Oh. God. 

You were at Matt’s apartment. 

You slept in his bed. 

You tried to kiss him. 

And he was outside the sliding door, right now. 

The floor was cool against your bare feet, your legs shaking as you tried to walk silently to the door. You slid it open just a crack. Just to see where he was. 

Matt was walking around the kitchen, most of his frame hidden by the open fridge door. 

You stepped out of his bedroom. If you could just sneak to the door…

“Morning,” he greeted cheerily, closing the fridge door and giving you a bright smile. “I made you some coffee.” Matt held up a steaming mug with a slight chuckle. “I thought you might need it.” 

You winced. “Right. Thanks.” 

Matt could feel your skin getting warmer, as well as the churning of nausea going through your head. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Super.” 

Matt grimaced. “Yeah, I felt the same when I woke up. Hence, coffee.” He took a drink from his own mug. 

There was a long, unbroken, and horrifically awkward silence between you. Why couldn’t you have one of those hangovers that obliterate any memory from the night before? Why couldn’t you get the image of him pulling away from you out of your head? Why did you have to try to kiss him? Why did you have to ruin everything?

“I should go.” 

Matt blew out a low sigh. “I’ll walk you home.” He moved to stand, but you put a hand on his arm to stop him. 

“I think I should go by myself,” you said quickly. If you stayed any longer, you would start to cry and you couldn’t do that in front of him. 

“Y/N-” Matt started. 

“Thank you for letting me stay, but I have some stuff I want to get done before we have to get to the office.” 

Matt heard your heart racing. He could hear the edge in your voice. 

He’d hurt you and he hated himself for it. He wanted the chance to fix things, but at the moment, he knew that anything he said would just make it worse. 

“I’ll see you there, then,” he said quietly. 

“Yeah, uhuh, right. Bye, Matt.” You scurried out of the door, forgetting your jacket and your purse but being far too embarrassed to go back in for them. As long as you had your keys, you would be fine. A fresh change of clothes and a cold shower. That’s what you needed. 

Once you forced yourself to get ready for work, you actually had to go to work. Which meant facing Karen- who knew all too well your crush on your boss. And worse, it meant facing Matt again. Maybe you could get away with avoiding him. 

You could not. 

When you got to the office, Matt was there, perched on the edge of your desk with your bag and jacket in hand. 

“You, uh, forgot these,” he said, giving you an awkward half-smile. 

Karen sat at her adjacent desk and raised a brow. 

You took your things and put them on the desk, feeling that all too familiar rush of blush to your face. Thank god he couldn’t see it. 

Matt nodded and walked to his office, letting his hand graze your shoulder as he went, hoping it would be a comfort, but when he heard your heartbeat rise, he realized it was probably a mistake. 

How could he show you that what happened last night, the reason he pulled away, was not what you were thinking? 

The day passed agonizingly slowly, but at least Foggy and Matt kept busy enough that you were able to avoid him for the most part. You couldn’t bear the pitying half-smile he gave you so you made sure to stay with Karen, looking over cases and organizing facts about clients. 

Matt was going mad, flipping through papers and listening to Foggy read off statements. All he could think about was the hurt in your voice and how he was the reason for it. 

“Uh, earth to Matt,” Foggy said, snapping his fingers. “You there buddy?” 

Matt swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, sorry. What were you saying?” 

Foggy leaned over the desk with a slow, teasing smirk. “I think I know what’s going on.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You finally made a move on Y/N. Didn’t you?” 

Now it was Matt’s turn to blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Oh come on, Matt,” Foggy exclaimed. “I saw it from the minute she wandered through our doors. You like her.” He poked Matt’s shoulder, prompting him to shrug away and stand. This, of course, was all the answer Foggy needed. “Oh my God you do like her!” 

“Foggy-”

“So what happened? Did you guys go on a date?” Foggy raised a brow. “Did you do more than go on a date?”

Matt went silent. 

Foggy’s jaw dropped. “Oh, did she reject you?” 

Matt ran a hand down his face. “That’s not what happened.”

“Don’t tell me that you rejected her.”

“That’s not what…” Matt grimaced. “It wasn’t like that.” Because of course, he liked you and of course, under different circumstances, he would have liked to do a lot more than kiss you, but he couldn’t unless he knew that it was really what you wanted and not what the liquor was telling you to want. 

“Well, whatever it was like, you better fix it,” Foggy said, walking to the door. “Because you do not want to let that one get away, my friend.” 

The rest of the day passed painfully. You were avoiding him and he was trying to figure out how to make you stop avoiding him. It didn’t help that Foggy kept giving both of you painfully obvious hints, worst of all being when he asked Karen to help him run an errand, clearing his throat loudly as he passed Matt’s door. 

You kept your head down, looking over client files and incident reports. Anything to take your mind off of the way his arm felt around your waist. His breath on your cheek. You came across a file that had a recorded statement. Shit. it must have gotten put with your things by mistake. 

You swallowed, stood, and made your way to Matt’s office. 

“I think this is probably for you,” you said softly, standing in his doorway. “I don’t usually listen to the statements.” You swallowed again, your throat feeling dry. “I just look into who you tell me to.” 

“You do more than that,” Matt said, shaking his head. Why did you always downplay your importance? Could you see how much you meant to this place? To him? “Y/N, stay for a second. Shut the door please.” He took off his glasses.

You froze under his unfocused gaze, feeling him watch you in his own way. 

“Is something wrong?” You gulped. 

Matt gave you a small smile. “You’re the one who has been avoiding me all day.” He motioned for you to sit beside him on the edge of his desk. “I think we should probably talk about last night.”

“W-what… I don’t…” You stammered, staying where you were. “I didn’t think there was anything to talk about.” 

Matt raised a brow, motioning again to the spot beside him. 

You hung your head and shuffled to stand beside him. 

“Now,” he said softly, “will you please talk to me? It’s been driving me insane all day not being around you.” 

“What do you want me to say, Matt?” You sighed. Emotion crept its way into your tone. Embarrassment. Heartbreak. “Things took a turn. We stopped. We went to bed. What else is there?” 

“What else is there?” Matt huffed, turning to fully face you. His hand reached for your arm. “Y/N, I did what I did because you were drunk. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, Matt.” You didn’t look at his face., at his dark eyes that managed to see you better than anyone ever had. “You don’t have to explain. You were just being kind. You let me stay because I was too drunk to open my own damn door. And I appreciate that, but please,” you grimaced at the memory of him pulling away from you. You shrugged away his hand. “Please just drop it.” 

You moved to leave.

Matt stood in your way. 

“I won’t just drop it,” he said, desperation in his tone. “Don’t you get that I can’t?” He grabbed you by the shoulders, not letting you go this time. “Y/N, I can’t stop thinking about last night. I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

You blinked. “W-What?”

This wasn’t real. This was another trick of your mind. Surely you weren’t still drunk. 

“I have wanted a night like last night since you first walked through those doors,” he admitted, listening to your heart as it started to race. He gave you a small smile, hoping to calm you down. To convince you that what he was saying was the truth. “But I had to make sure that it’s what you really wanted. Not because of some awful drink I dared you to drink or because you felt like you owed me.” 

“Matt…” You trailed off. Couldn’t he tell? Couldn’t he sense that you’d wanted the same thing ever since you first saw him? 

“I just,” he sighed, “I need you to know that.” 

You didn’t know what to say. Any words that formed on your tongue died before they could make it out of your lips. 

Matt heard your heart pounding. He heard your fingers tugging on the bottom of your shirt- a nervous tick he’d noticed your first day. He let his head fall. He’d made things worse. 

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said softly, grabbing his cane and heading for the door. 

You didn’t think. Thinking had so far gotten you nowhere. Instead, you grabbed his arm, pulled him back around, and crashed your lips into his. 

Matt stumbled back in surprise but only for a moment. His hands found your face, cupping your cheeks gently as he pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 

Both of you stepped, him forward and you back, his body pinning you against his desk, his arms moving around to hold you up against him. Your hands traveled up his chest and into his hair. 

This was happening. 

You pulled away, resting your forehead against his. 

“This is happening,” you gasped, unable to stop yourself. 

Matt just grinned. He gave you that ridiculous, intoxicating, devilish grin. And it melted you. 

“Do you want it to keep happening?” He asked cheekily. 

You didn’t answer and pulled him back to you.

[mncxbe]

Chuuya, Dazai, Nikolai, Akutagawa and Sigma(no need for all of them just do whichever ones you want) with a reader who is incredibly sassy, like reader is borderline about to get harrased but is still so chill and sassy like "Respectfully fuck off, and fuck yourself on a chainsaw so you get massacred In half so no one has to see your disgraceful behaviour anymore"

Omg I love this so much girlboss reader supremacy. Also I had to use your line there it was just too good. Enjoy♡♡

// sidenote I'm working on all your requests so even if it takes a bit longer for me to post, just know I'll do it eventually. Love y'all♡

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8:37◇

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂, 𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊, 𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff/ silly

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂

it's either the best or the worst combination

he absolutely adores how bold you are and how you always stand up for yourself

but he sometimes wishes you needed him a little bit more

Chuya loves drinking wine; that's something everyone is aware of. What many people didn't know however is that the redhead also attended almost every wine tasting in town, especially the ones held by you, his darling girlfriend.

He relished that hour spent listening to you presenting each wine on the menu with such grace and passion. Naturally, your boyfriend knew how hard you worked to become a sommelier and was truly proud of you; the wine tastings held by you were the best he ever attended.

The only aspect that sometimes ruined the serene atmosphere of the tasting was... well, other men. Oh how he hated the way they fawned over you, utterly unaware that your boyfriend was sitting right next to them. This wouldn't even be such a problem if they didn't make filthy comments about you; but some of them really went overboard.

That night an especially repulsive attendant kept making snarky comments about you. Chuya could barely contain his anger when the man slapped your ass as you bent over to pour him some wine; the only thing that kept him from killing that bastard was the promise he made to you: that he wouldn't interrupt your show no matter what.

He simply gripped the armrests of his chair as the man burst out laughing.

With a smug smile on your face, you took the glass you just poured and handed it to the man.

"If you ever do that again I'll break this glass and shove the shards up your penis. Understood?" you said in a sweet voice, causing the man to quiver. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair and quickly straightened his back, uttering an apology.

Chuya's lips curled into a grin upon hearing your words. When he caught your gaze as you poured some wine to the man sitting opposite to him, he gave you a quick wink. Proud, he was so proud.

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊

you're equally sassy and he loves that

the two of you bring the best and worst out of one another but it's always so much fun

lowkey gets turned on when you say daring stuff

"Bella" groaned Dazai as you pulled him off of his chair "I've danced enough for tonight. My feet hurt"

"Nonsense love. Come on you know I love this song."

You slowly pulled your boyfriend towards the centre of the room. The underground bar you were currently at allotted a few square meters to a dancing area and of course, after a few drinks you wanted to dance too. Naturally, Dazai obliged you but it was currently midnight and you still wanted to keep going.

Not that he minded it that much; after all, what better way to spend the evening than being able to touch every inch of your body while the two of you swayed peacefully to a slow song?

After a few more songs you agreed to go back to the table.

"Hold on dear I'll go to the bathroom real quick" said your boyfriend as he gave your hand a little squeeze.

Much to his surprise when he retured from the toilet you were resting against the wooden table with a man hunched over you. His right arm was slowly making its way to your waist but you seemed utterly unfazed. As he walked closer, Dazai could hear the man talk to you.

"Come on pretty I know you want this. You've been tempting me all night long with those moves of yours."

Dazai could feel his blood boiling when he heard the man's daring words. He quickly walked closer just as you pushed the man away.

"In the most direspectful way, fuck off and fuck yourself on a chainsaw so you get massacred in half so no one has to see your disgraceful behaviour anymore you pathetic excuse of a man." you said in an angry voice.

The man, vexed by your words, turned his back to you and walked away, putting his middle finger up.

"Well bella I didn't know you could talk like that." said Dazai as he walked by your side.

"That asshole deserved it. The nerve I cannot believe it." you stated as you rolled your eyes, seemingly annoyed by the events that just took place.

"He truly did but love, don't let that man spoil the mood tonight. Besides..." he said as he took your soft hand in his and gently kissed it without breaking the eye contact. "The night is still young. How about we go home so I can cleanse you of that man's touch?"

"That's actually a good idea Osamu" you giggled as you drank the last sip of your drink and made your way up the flight of stairs, towards the exit.

𝑺𝒊𝒈𝒎𝒂

your sass and fiery attitude perfectly match his calm and composed demeanour

you're like the sun to his moon fr

he loves you a lot but sometimes you're a bit too much for him to handle. please be gentle.

Sigma marched into the room, his heels clicking on the marble floor. It was quite common for him to be summoned in the gambling area whenever a player was caught cheating or when a conflict escalated into a fight; but he never expected a case of sexual harassment.

As he approached the group of people with a stern look on his face he caught a glimpse of your figure. You were leaning against a table, a look of obvious annoyance on your face.

"What's going on here?" he asked calmly.

Your head snapped in his direction. "Oh darling here you are. I was just asking this fine gentleman here to leave the premises of the casino."

"Oh shut it bitch. What reason do you have to kick me out?" spat a man from the crowd as he stepped forward. His tie was loose and the first two buttons of his shirt were undone; by the glassy tint of his eyes Sigma could tell that he was really drunk.

"I saw you touching multiple women tonight, me included. This type of behaviour is not tolerated in our casino." you replied in a flat voice.

The man only grew more furious; he took step towards you, shoving a fat finger in your face. The golden rings on his hand caught the light of the chandeliers.

"And since when are you entitled to tell me what to do, huh? Didn't know you were the manager."

His words only fueled your rage and before Sigma could say anything, you slapped the man's hand away.

"Listen to me old man. Either you get out of here now or you stay." A wild grin rose to your lips as you continued speaking "But I will cut off those dirty hands of yours. And don't worry about the manager, I'm sure he'll approve of my actions, right darling?"

The man turned his face in Sigma's direction only to see him nod in agreement.

"I do, darling. Just try not to stain the carpet."

The perpetrator froze for a moment before mumbling a string of curses under his breath. He quickly stumbled out of the room.

Left with no other form of entertainment the crowd dissipated, leaving you and Sigma alone.

Your boyfriend exhaled deeply, the stern austere mask he put on crumbling. "Please never make me say that again, love" he said in a hushed voice, gaining a low chuckle from you.

"I know I'm sorry honey. Promise I won't." You closed the distance between the two of you and placed a chaste kiss on his lips. "But thank you for helping me out"

Snaking a hand around your waist, Sigma pulled you into a side hug. "Of course darling. I just don't want that man to make any complaints."

"Don't worry about that dear" you said with a sly smile on your face, your eyes glimmering with mischief. "After all, you're the manager."