#his nails are also very clean but sharp and curved

[tai-janai]

While we’re drowning Opportunist in attention- love how poofy his feathers are. Was that a conscious decision? Like, thinking he wants to appear all soft and sweet so others will lower their guard and he can stab you in the back?

yep !

theres actually a lot that goes into all of the voices' designs, and oppys whole dynamic is just approachable but deadly, a lot of emphasis on not getting too close.

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 5

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes.

Part 5: digging deeper

Part Pilot | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

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I stared at my reflection in the bathroom. I opened my mouth and ran my tongue, which was a little longer than usual, along my sharp teeth. The sharpest ones were my canines that slipped past my lips when resting.

I touched around the base of my horns. The skin was tight near the bottom and paler than the rest of my skin. My horns jutted up, curved down a bit, then back up to a point at the very end. I tried bending them but they were sturdy, even near the tip.

I clicked my claws together then on the counter. It felt strange to have something that felt like elongated nails. I poked my arm until I drew blood, noting how quick it took to do so. My toes also had claws. They weren't as long as my fingers but they were definitely sharper. The skin on my feet felt extremely tough, almost rubbery.

I turned off the light and sat on the cushions by the window. I rested my head on my arm and stared off into the ocean. For the first time in a long while, I tried to think back into my memories.

I was only able to get snippets, though. I could envision myself in small, specific scenes but I couldn't remember anything past my first rounds of fighting. What did my parents look like? Did they give me to the rings? Did someone kill them? Was I born in hell? How much magic did I have and what kind was it?

I had so many unanswered questions.

I met Husker for dinner again. I couldn't stop looking at my claws as I tried to go about normally. Using a fork was new; long nails made it surprisingly difficult. Husker tried not to laugh and I caught him smiling several times.

"Did you know?" I asked him.

"No. Alastor told me he thought you might be a demon but I was skeptical."

"Why?"

"Well it takes effort to have a human appearance yet you always had one when you were asleep or unconscious. Plus you only used Slight magic when we fought."

"So Alastor knew."

"It was more of a theory." The Radio Demon materialized at the end of the table. "No one had ever heard of a human and demon being soulmates." My eyes fell to my plate. I hated looking at him and I hated hearing the word soulmates. "Once you've finished we'll head back to Rosie's."

"Tonight?"

"Yes, tonight.” He almost sounded annoyed. “She wants to unravel your curse as quickly as possible. She said something about it putting a strain on your mind." He touched a pointed claw to his lips. "I'm sure it's nothing."

Husker rolled his eyes and took a gulp of his drink. I offered to help clean the dishes but he refused. Alastor wrapped an arm around my shoulders and practically dragged me outside. I peeled his hand off and walked up to the scorched symbol on the ground. It didn't look like anything I recognized but it was always there.

He pulled me against him by my waist and stuck his cane into the ground. The ground gave way and I held my hair to my neck. We teleported to a different location this time and I soon discovered it was behind Rosie's store. The quiet town had all their indoor lights and radios turned on.

Alastor knocked twice on the glass door before it opened for him. We walked right into the same meeting room as before. Rosie was setting down a hot teapot.

"Welcome back dearies," she curtsied. "Come in come in. I just took this off the stove. You'll love it."

"I have a matter to attend to but I'm sure you'll take good care of my darling," Alastor said. My darling?

"Oh of course. Go off and do your man's work. Us ladies will get to know each other better." She hooked her arm around mine and lead me to the chair again. "I'm sure you've got lots of burning questions." This time I accepted the warm tea. "But I have to warn you sweetheart. This time, when we go back into your memories, it's going to be a lot more dangerous."

"Dangerous how?"

"If you get too wrapped up in the emotions and feelings of your memories, you can get stuck there."

"Stuck? In my own head?"

"I'm afraid so," she sipped on her tea, "When I feel you starting to fall down that rabbit hole, I'll touch your leg to let you know. When you feel me touch you, I need you to reel your emotions back in. Do you think you can do that? If not, there's no shame in waiting for tomorrow.”

"No," I said quickly, "I'll be okay. I can do this."

"I believe you. Now. Let's begin."

She sat beside me on the stool and took my hands in hers. I stared down at my black claws as she asked me to go back in time. I closed my eyes and skipped through my teenage-hood and into my early childhood. I tried to push away the sinking sadness of my first friend's death.

"What did your first master look like?" Rosie asked.

"I know he had white hair. Long, white hair. He always had a scowl on his face and he dragged me around."

"What about your very first fight?"

"I was...I was against another kid. Another girl. She had short brown hair and looked...inhuman."

"Inhuman, how?"

"She...her eyes...they were red and...she just looked insane. Her hair was all matted and she was down on all fours. She was drooling a lot too. I remember she...she ran after me and started clawing and biting my arms. She went for my face and I shoved her off. She chased me in circles around the ring. I can still hear all the men cheering above. They were laughing."

"What did you do?"

"I uh...I grew tired and she eventually caught up to me. She grabbed my foot then went for my face. I don't remember much but I...I remember kicking her off then kicking her head. It bounced off the walls and then she didn't get up after that."

"When did you start to learn how to use magic?"

I paused for a moment. “I…I had a master before him? He…he was the one who taught me. Every so often he would come back during the day and take me into the ring. He showed me how to use it. First it was with wind. He told me to throw sand and dirt in my opponents' faces."

"What else did he teach you?"

"He taught me...how to use my sweat as a weapon...how to pull apart the earth so their foot would get stuck or so that they would trip...he taught me a lot."

"Did you warm up to him?"

"When he was teaching me I was happy. I loved learning how to use my magic. And he praised me all the time when I did well. Eventually he stopped being rough with me. It felt like...like he cared about me."

"But?"

"But..." I felt my heart sink with sadness. "But...he...gave me up...to someone not nice."

"Do you know why?"

"Yeah...he was...apparently just someone who trained children in basic magic then...then sold them off to the highest bidder. I was...I was so angry at him...I thought I was going to make him proud and live to be set free but...but I was nothing to him."

"Very good. Now, what can you tell me about when you first met him? When you first saw his white hair?"

I paused. "I remember...I remember looking up at him. He was such a tall man. I was holding someone's hand but I can't...I can't see their face."

"It's okay, don't push it. Tell me about the hand you're holding. What does it feel like?"

"Soft. But...tough? It's definitely tight."

"Good what about-"

"No. Wait...there was another man with white hair. But his...his was shorter."

"Tell me about him. Where were you?"

"I was...I was in a cage. I was...with someone. I remember seeing him come to the cage often. I was...the person I'm with would always get tense when he did. Why can't I see this person's face?"

"It's okay. Take your time. Tell me what this person is wearing."

"A short sleeve. Her skin is...covered in scars and bruises. She's...she's always stroking my hair."

"What else does she do?"

"She...she hums a lot. There's a small radio in the corner and she hums to it a lot. And...I can feel it in her chest when does. She rocks me back and forth until I fall asleep." I suddenly grew very sad and angry. My hands tightened and my hair on the back of my neck stood up.

"What is it, doll? What's happening?"

"He's...the man...he's wearing a white suite...exactly the color of his hair...and he's yelling with her. They're fighting. There's yelling. He hits her. She's arguing back but not fighting. Why won't she fight?"

"Stay with me dear." She touched my lap. I tried to lower my tense shoulders but it was hard.

"He picked me up and...he closed the door on her. She's screaming. Why is she screaming? Why is he taking me away from her? I can't...I can't reach her. I don't...where is he taking me? I don't want to leave her."

"Enough sweetheart, come back. Come out of the memory." She touched my shoulder this time. "Come back to my store. Come back to this world. It's all just a memory."

"I can't stop crying. Why...is that my mother?"

"Sweetheart, you need to come back. You're going in too deep. Stop the emotions."

"But...I want to see her."

"We'll look next time. We can come back next time but you need to take a break. Come out of the memory. Come back to the store. Blink twice and look up."

I stared at the figure reaching out to me through the bars. I was so close. I just wanted to touch her hand one more time. But it was just a memory. She wasn't really there. She might not even be alive at all.

I blinked twice and looked up to meet Rosie's dark eyes. She let out a huge sigh and patted me on the head. "That was a little too close for comfort."

I felt something brush against my leg. I looked down to see a black tail that ran all the way to my back. I stood up and spun around in an effort to look at it. I felt something pulling on my back and realized I had a pair of black wings to go with it.

"What the..." The black on my hands had stretched all the way down to my elbow now. I found the closest mirror and noticed a pair of long ears sticking up from my human ones. Was I a type of dragon?

"I see you're making lots of progress." Alastor's staticky voice cut through the silence.

"Quite a lot, actually," Rosie answered. "I must say, you sure got lucky, Alastor. She looks like she's got a lot hidden away in her."

"Which is why you're the perfect person to help pull it all into the light."

"How do I hide them?" I asked Rosie, still turning in circles to look at myself.

"Oh, uh..." she tapped her sharp finger to her sharp teeth.

"Picture them receding into your back," Alastor answered. I grimaced at the thought of listening to him but gave it a try. The tail shivered but did nothing.

"I'm sure it'll take getting used to," Rosie reassured me. "But I'm sure you're absolutely exhausted. You should go home and get some rest. We can figure out more later."

"Good idea," Alastor agreed. "Come along, darling." He put his hand on my back but I pushed it off. I thanked Rosie and walked out of her store, my wings hitting the edges on the way out.

"So, what did you learn?" he asked as he shut the door.

"What's it to you?"

"Just curious is all."

"You can stay that way," I mumbled. He grabbed my waist and sent us back to the cliff side manor. As soon as my feet touched solid ground, I pushed his hand off and walked inside. My wings hit anything and everything, frustrating me even more.

"Whoah, ain't you something," Husker commented from the sitting room. I didn't respond, clambering up to my room and locking the door behind me. My legs buckled and I collapsed onto the floor. I sobbed into my arms as the new memories replayed themselves in my mind.

Who am I?

[signedeclipse]

would you ever write a part 3 or an epilogue for All For You?? I'm dying to see hantengu try to confess and explain himself

All For You | Part Final [Hantengu X Reader]

Reader is Human Female | Fluff | Part 1 + Part 2

Recomended Song - I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys

The air tasted sweeter than usual, your chest rising as you pulled in a wide waking breath, sharply whistling an exhale.

That had to be the best sleep you'd gotten in ages, but despite that fact, your body ached in the same way it did when you used to go on missions. It felt as if…

You'd been manhandled by a demon… or four?

A shaky hand rose and pushed the mess of your hair back, just to keep it out of the way, all while using your wrist to rub one of your eyes with a much needed yawn.

"Huh."

The light blue colour of your extra bed set seemed to have replaced the one you usually slept with. But, when could you have done that? Using both hands to grab the edge and push it off your body, you were surprised to see yourself entirely naked, and very much bruised.

Not only that, but the soft smell of your lavender soap was noticeable.

Had you done something messy and cleaned up? Certainly you weren't at full thinking capacity yet, but you'd remember that many events.

And bruises? That looked like fingerpr-

"Oh. Oh my-" Your hand fell into your hands, hiding the red tint that fell upon your cheeks.

Wallowing in the embarrassment, a sharp nailed hand weakly pushed the sliding door of your room open, catching you at the worst time. In a moment, you grabbed the sheets to cover yourself, knees pushing up against your chest in an attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Hantengu!" It was him again, the one you recognized and not the four that had intruded on your peaceful evening mere hours ago.

"Im sorry! I-I- you hadn't woken up in an entire day! I was just, just-" Despite pushing the sentence on, he seemed to be at a loss for words, while also not caring about the fact that he had walked in on you naked.

Silence fell between you two, and while you had no idea what he could be thinking of, you were flashing between glimpses of last night's events.

"Who… those men." You had pointed a finger at him, and he seemed to shamefully back away a step or two, albeit on his hand and knees.

"Yes, yes you are correct, they are me." He was hiding his face into one hand, letting his curled black hair help cover his face, unable to look you in the eye. He remembered it alright, remembered every angle, and every curve.

You only sighed, laying back down to relax your aching muscles, staring at the scaffolding ceiling.

"I can't say I expected any of that, I'm not that familiar with how demons work, I'm just glad I'm not, you know… dead-" 

"Never! We could never kill you!" Fractically, he crawled towards you, shakily holding a hand inches from your head, before caressing your cheek.

He was warm, much like his clones, but his hands much more calloused and rough, as if they'd worked far longer. It was a comforting gesture which you leaned into, and you could tell he enjoyed the fact by the way he hitched his breath.

"So that was the best way you could make me yours?" In the sincerity of the moment, you still found a way to joke, which simultaneously eased and increased his nervousness.

"Well-"  "You don't have to say anything, I accept."  "Accept?"  "Yes."

He still seemed to be discontent with what you were providing, though listened carefully when your hand brushed against his, pushing his hand further into your cheek.

"Yes, I accept being yours."

Author Note -  I wanted something a little shorter but still sweet to tie off the series, so I hope this was a good little ending! Thank you for requesting <3 Props to the first Eclipse Series!!!!!!!!!

Word Count - 604

[emmacarterhere]

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The First Meeting

In an exclusive, dimly lit club, sub, dressed in simple black slacks and a white shirt, nervously awaits his first encounter with the Mistress. The room exudes an air of opulence and secrecy, with flickering shadows and the scent of leather and sandalwood.

The door opens with a soft creak, and the Mistress strides in, a vision of dominance in a skintight leather corset and skirt. Her piercing blue eyes lock onto sub, a cruel smile curving her lips as she takes in his anxious form. She moves to a leather chair and sits gracefully, crossing her legs.

Mistress: (commanding) "Kneel."

Sub’s heart pounds as he drops to his knees, his head bowed in submission.

Mistress: (sharp) "Look at me."

He lifts his head, meeting her icy stare.

Mistress: (voice dripping with sadistic pleasure) "Tell me, sub, why do you seek to submit to me?"

Sub: (trembling) "Mistress, I seek to submit because I crave the control and discipline that only you can provide. I want to give myself to you completely, to explore my limits and to serve you in every way."

A cruel smile spreads across her face.

Mistress: "Good. I value honesty and obedience, but I also revel in breaking and remaking my pets. We shall see if you truly understand what it means to serve me."

She rises from her chair and circles him like a predator, her heels clicking ominously on the wooden floor. He feels her presence behind him, and then the sharp sting of her nails raking down his back. She leans in, her breath hot against his ear.

Mistress: (whispering, seductive) "From this moment on, you belong to me. Your desires, your fears, your very soul—I will mold them as I see fit. Do you understand?"

Sub: (voice a mix of fear and exhilaration) "Yes, Mistress."

Mistress: "Good." (straightening up) "Now, prove your devotion. Strip."

The command sends a shiver of arousal and dread through him. He quickly stands, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. He feels her eyes on him, cold and appraising, as he removes his clothing piece by piece until he stands naked and exposed before her.

She circles him once more, her fingers trailing lightly over his skin, leaving a path of goosebumps. Suddenly, she grabs a fistful of his hair, yanking his head back, forcing him to look into her eyes.

Mistress: "You will learn to serve me well. But first, you will learn your place."

She leads him to a corner of the room, pushing him to his knees and pressing his face against the cold wall.

Mistress: "You will stay here until I decide otherwise. And if you move, you will regret it."

She leaves him there, naked and humiliated, the anticipation of her return and the pain she promises hanging heavy in the air. The sound of her heels clicking away is the only thing that breaks the silence.

After what feels like an eternity, she returns, her presence filling the room. She stands behind him, her voice a whip crack in the silence.

Mistress: "Did you miss me, pet?"

Sub: (whispering) "Yes, Mistress."

Mistress: "Good. You will learn to crave my attention and fear my wrath. Now, crawl to me."

Sub shivers as he turns, crawling on all fours towards her, the carpet rough against his knees. He reaches her feet, lowering his head to kiss the tips of her shoes.

Mistress: "Lick them clean."

Sub hesitates, then begins to lick her shoes, the taste of leather filling his mouth. She watches with a satisfied smile, her hand reaching down to caress his head before yanking his hair again.

Mistress: "Good pet. You will learn to worship me in every way I demand. Fail, and you will suffer. Please me, and you might just find some relief."

Mistress: (commanding) "Now, stand up and face me."

Sub, trembling, rises to his feet, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and anticipation. The Mistress walks slowly around him, her presence both a comfort and a threat. She stops in front of him, lifting his chin with a single finger to force his gaze to meet hers.

Mistress: "Do you understand your place now, sub?"

Sub: (softly) "Yes, Mistress."

Mistress: "Good. Your training will be rigorous. You will be tested, pushed, and broken. But if you endure, you will become exactly what I desire. Do you think you can handle that?"

Sub: "I will try my best, Mistress."

Mistress: (smirking) "Trying isn't enough. You will do as I command, without hesitation. Do you understand?"

Sub: (more firmly) "Yes, Mistress."

Mistress: "Excellent. Now, let's begin your first real lesson in obedience."

She steps closer, her presence overwhelming. She traces a finger down his chest, watching him shiver under her touch. Then, without warning, she slaps his face, the sound echoing through the room.

Mistress: "That was for your hesitation. Never make me wait."

Sub's cheek stings, but he nods, keeping his eyes on her.

Mistress: "Now, on your knees again."

He drops to his knees immediately, his eyes filled with determination to please her. She steps back and sits on the leather chair, crossing her legs.

Mistress: "Crawl to me."

He obeys without hesitation, crawling to her feet. She lifts one leg, resting her stiletto heel on his shoulder.

Mistress: "Kiss my feet."

Sub lowers his head, pressing his lips to her shoes, kissing them reverently. She watches him with a satisfied smile, her power over him absolute.

Mistress: "Good pet. This is only the beginning. You will learn to serve me in ways you never imagined. And you will love every moment of it."

She leans down, lifting his chin to meet her gaze once more.

Mistress: "Remember, sub, you are mine. Your pain, your pleasure, your very soul belongs to me."

With that, she stands, leaving him kneeling at her feet, his heart racing with anticipation for the journey ahead. The Mistress walks to the door, looking back at him one last time before she leaves.

Mistress: "Stay here and reflect on your new reality. I will summon you when I am ready for more."

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[kunikidas-lost-glasses]

Random appearance hc's for some BSD characters

Tw: Dazai typical mentions of sewerslide and sh, mentions of sh in general

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Nikolai has a slightly pointed nose. It isn't very noticeable but if one looks closely at his side profile it's definitely visible.

Fyodor has a slightly crooked nose and hates it

Sigma literally looks like some angelic creature. He has soft perfect skin which has some kind of shine/ slight soft shimmering on it, he has beautiful long soft hair, skinny hands with long fingers and usually his eyes look like the eyes of a very kind and trustworthy person. There are a lot people who have been crushing with him

Chuuya has thousands of freckles in his face (mostly on his cheeks), on his neck, his arms, his shoulders, his upper back and his legs. Dazai loves to kiss the ones on his face, back and his neck

Dazai has very messy fluffy curly hair which is like nearly impossible to brush or style in an way. It's always a mess

Chuuya has heavy wavy hair. His hair is basically wild red waves which frame his face beautifully

Fyodor's fingers/ mostly his finger tips are always somewhat reddish even though he is pale like a corpse because of the scarring which is caused by him regularly biting his fingers all bloody.

Fyodor has a small bump on one side of one of his middle fingers from writing so much with his quill and his pen

Fyodor has callouses on the finger tips of his right hand from playing the cello

Atushi has sharp, fang like canines

Poe has millions of small freckles on his cheeks and nose. He hates them but Ranpo adores them and told him once that they look like a galaxy with thousands of starts

The eye which Nikolai usually covers is actually blind and due to this white blue-ish. (I wrote this before the trailer for S4 got released so I thought Nikolai would have one gold eye and the color of the other eye wasn't know yet and I always thought that it looked kind of pale)

Dazai often sits like a shrimp after sitting straight for a while because he has a long term injury on his spine/ thoracic spine from a failed attempt and sitting in a straight position for a long time is uncomfortable for him or painful

Dazai has chapped lips

Poe's lips are often bitten bloody because he starts biting his lip when he's feeling anxious

Kunikida is actually very muscular

Chuuya is very muscular too. He is just not that broad build/looking like Kunikida. He still has a very petite statue but his muscles are there and definitely a bit visible. Especially if he tenses them

Q looks sickish from being locked up so long and from constantly hurting themselves. They are pale and boney and have a fragile statue.

Fyodor's hair actually isn't greasy at all. It's just very straight and also very thin, the latter is because of his anemia, but it isn't greasy

He usually isn't dirty in general and being clean/ hygiene is very important to him

Yosano is definitely ripped af. Look which kind of weapons she lifts

Sigma has a a little bit more defined body figure (hips, waist) and at first he was very insecure about it because he thought that males shouldn't have curves.

Nikolai has naturally a small waist but he also wears a corset which is why it often looks very small

He also has some barley visible stretch marks on his thights

Fyodor often wears a cross necklace in silver

Nikolai often wears black or black reddish lipstick and deep red/wine red nail polish

Fyodor is very skinny/boney. One can literally feel and see a bit of some of his rips, his spine and his pelvic bone

Nikolai is very tall build

Dazai sometimes wears black nail polish which is always kind of damaged and has bobby pins in his hair to keep it out of his face

Mori is the one with greasy hair. Not Fyodor. Fight me.

Dazai's hair gets even messier and fluffier when it's hot and he hates it. Chuuya loves it though

Sigma's hair gets a bit fluffy and sticks up in all directions when he is very stressed or angry

Nikolai's hands are full of scars

Bram had long claw like fingernails when he still had his whole body

Shibusawa has a bit sharper teeth because he is half dragon and all

Shibusawa's hair is very soft and very thick

Nikolai wears colorful socks with random patterns on it like rats or dots or stripes. Idk it just makes sense to me

He sometimes draws a club, a spade, a heart or a diamond (card game symbols) on his cheek under his eye with red or black eyeliner

[65ths]

hands, skin and mouth

send me a word! || learn all about my muse's physical features! [hands]: are they large or small, do they have pianist's fingers or short stubby ones, do they tend to get sweaty or are they always dry, is the skin rough or delicate, are the nails painted or chewed or sharp, etc.

his hands are large, and he has long fingers with nails that are almost always kept short, clean, and uniform. his hands are a little veiny when he moves them in a particular way, specifically in his left hand. having grown up in the fishing industry and having spent so many years training, his hands were often dry, rough, and very calloused, but he still took care of them using special balms and salves and remedies available in d4 for fisherman. after his games, his hands were rid of a lot of that, and nowadays his hands are much softer and well maintained. even after the rebellion, he does keep up with moisturizing his hands just because he returns to working in the water. they get less soft with time, a balm goes a long way but nothing compares to capitol upkeep. finnick is more than happy to have some age and work return to him and be reflected on his body

[skin]: obviously colour, but also if they're inclined to run hot or cold, do they have any blemishes or unusual markings, are they inclined to blush, are they freckled, do they tan, what does their skin feel like, etc.

finnick really is golden, he's naturally a little tan, and does tan more, unevenly so if you know him when he spends outside of the capitol. he constantly has a little tan from wearing jewelry like bracelets and even a necklace. he has a sailor's tan, just the typical tan around his arms from short sleeve shirts. when he was a kid, he had one from his boots and socks often. but, the capitol keeps him evenly tan and golden looking. he's chiseled, free of blemishes just about everywhere, and his skin is almost always soft and warm to the touch. his prep team goes to pretty extreme measures to make sure he is always fitting this image of basically a young god. he's meant to be flawless, desirable, and with that comes the erasure of years of scars from fishing, training, and even the games. when he gets a couple scars from the rescue in catching fire, he's absolutely fascinated by them, he can't stop staring at the marks and the way in which they're going to last and there is no one to take them away anymore. he's gotten so used to the rigorous care/clean up that it's almost foreign to see anything last more than a couple months. he is inclined to blush, it's most obvious in his cheeks, bridge of his nose, and his ears but overall does tend to be subtle.

[mouth]: are their lips always drawn thin or are they plump and kissable, what's their "default expression"/resting face, do they have all their own teeth, do they use their teeth to smile, etc.

his lips are definitely kissable, bottom lip pushed forward ever so slightly. his tongue frequently runs over them, in between, or he uses a little balm. they're very soft, often shiny and an obvious shade of pink. most people know finnick's default expression to be a very light smile, his lips curve just ever slightly upward in the corners. there's never a moment where he isn't making this resting face while in the capitol. at home, he's also known for being slightly smiley as a default, but it walks more of a line between a smile and something more neutral, straight. this of course changes around the time of district 13, where one could argue he spends so much time frowning that it becomes his default then. his look is much more faraway then. he has all of his teeth, and most notably when he smiles his dimples tend to come out and his top set of teeth are very visible.

[roseadleyn]

𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖧𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖼𝖺𝗇𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖱𝖺𝗒𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽;

-Raymond's features are a mix of sharp and soft

-plump lips, curving brows, sharp jawline

-his hair is to die for

-dark, soft and continuously falling into his eyes. he combs it on a regular basis and would rather be shot dead than have messy, tangled hair

-he actually takes care of his appearance and knows to how to fix his tie

-his voice is on the deeper side, but child raymond spoke so seriously that it was almost funny

-almost.

-he's very clean, so he never keeps his nails too long and scrubs them with a stiff brush every night so that they're snowy clean. too long nails with grime and dirt under them makes him retch

-he knows his color palette too--dark hair, grey eyes, milky white skin. to suit this he normally wears neutral or darker colors

-he's tall but war has kept his body toned and supple

-he, like his sister, has a very good sense of fashion

-beige silk night shirts

-buckled shoes, sandals when they go to the beach

-almond shaped gray eyes with long, fluttery eyelashes

-his cheekbones and collarbones both are prominent

-it took him some time to find an aesthetic or a theme that he actually liked, since as a child he was often dressed in light or bright color schemes and he found that he didn't like it, he didn't feel like it suited him

-all in all he's quite the looker

-

I might change some things about him in the future, since I'm also discovering and exploring the character, getting to know him

I think whoever has their own characters or ocs should get to know them---

-

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨; @writerinthedeepwoods

@iwanttosleepforever1

@mysticmeena (u once said to tag you in everything i write and i shall oblige)

@izumi-astra-123 (can't tag her for some reason)

--

[yandereine]

Minerva Decides It’s Time for One More Round- Ch4

Cadet Strife felt like the last two days weren’t real.

Running around a track and doing pull ups shouldn’t have resulted in what felt like the world’s largest practice in dubious medical consent. What felt like every doctor and medical specialist in the ShinRa building inspected every piece of him and gathered samples for hours.

Hair sample, finger nail, saliva, urine, skin (ouch!), and he was sure they would have tried to saw the bone if they weren’t stopped by what the cadet would have guessed to be his medical personnel angel.

Cloud sat naked in a hospital gown strapped to too many wires as he could hear with stunning clarity the vicious argument outside his door. It didn’t take a medical scientist to know what “Head of the Science Department” meant. Cloud had never met either, but every muscle in his body was tense, telling him that he never should. Since coming to Midgar, all he knew were the boys he’d shared a bunk with, his immediate commanding officers and forcefully cheery front desk receptionist that told him where he could apply for SOLIDER.

They were both silenced by a third voice that was clearly younger, and hard for Cloud to make out even with his newfound super hearing.  

The bickering stopped, and the automatic door slid open.

With slow strides, the young man’s steps aligned with the beeping of one of the machines he was currently hooked up to. That same part of him that knew he should be worried also told him that this man was a “friend” with air quotes included.

Behind him was another person in a dark suit and they smiled when Cloud’s eyes met their own. The room was only big enough for its one tenant in a hospital bed and perhaps a lone doctor, making the additional body take up more space than intended. Their very sharp, eye catching attire gave him pause when he remembered, he was wearing only a hospital gown and a hot red blush smacked him across his face.

These two were not doctors.

“Greetings Cadet Strife, I am Tseng, from the Department of Administrative Research.” He kept talking even as he took the rolling stool meant for the doctor. The other black suit leaned against the wall, folding their arms and kept that cordial expression when Cloud stared.

“I know this is a very interesting time for you, but I’m going to have to ask you some questions is that alright?”

He was asking to ask, but Cloud got the feeling that it was decided from the start. He felt exposed, embarrassed, confused and hadn’t gotten a single word in protest after being rushed to the main building and having every stainless steel and plastic medical tool stuck inside him somewhere.

Truthfully, he felt like garbage. Medicated garbage. The needles hurt, the tubes were invasive and his clothes were... somewhere. No PHS, and he was kept busy at every waking hour of his day so much so that he didn’t have time to be terrified. Not completely.

Tseng didn’t wait for an answer as he rolled forward and placed his folded hands in his lap, sitting a tad hunched. Cloud got the feeling he could sit up as straight as a wooden board but did so to make him feel at ease.

“When you enlisted for the ShinRa army, it was apparent you had no significant exposure to mako prior, is that correct?”

Cloud nodded, slowly, unsure if he should even speak. Everyone was eying him day and night and asking questions he couldn’t answer. It was easier to nod and shake his head now. Growing up near a reactor gave him a teensy, tiny bit of exposure, but like all small details, he pushed it aside for a clean yes or no.

“That’s very interesting. Here it says-” the other person in a suit pulled a folder from their inner jacket, handing it to Tseng. Cloud briefly entertained the idea that they had one giant pocket inside just for that.  

“Your blood tests returned a concentration so great that it was like you’d been swimming in it for years.” Tseng’s expression was painfully neutral, his lips curved into what could technically be a smile and his eyes piercing, but not accusing. The narrowed curves gracing the corners didn’t appear threatening, however under questioning it gave off the impression he was more dangerous than any invasive needle.

Terror, Cloud definitely had room for terror.

He didn’t know what was going on but this man was giving him the feeling he was going to become a missing person if he didn’t speak up.

“I-” Cloud winced. His throat was sore from a tube that had been down it just hours before. “I’ll explain it the way I did with the doctors.”  His voice was quiet now, pleading for his innocence in his tone and answering with a humble look down to his blanket covered feet.

“I woke up at 0400 hours two days ago after a physical evaluation. I did ten pull ups, thirty pushups and completed every objective we had been assigned. My scores were...” Cloud looked down to his arm, regretting it with a wince when seeing everything sticking out of him. “My scores were not the best I admit. But that night, I was feeling a little sick after I woke up so I left my bunk to get some air. And that’s when a night watch found me and took me to the facility nurse. I-I'm not juicing or anything to be better! I don’t know what happened.”

His thin lips pressed tight as he looked anywhere that didn’t have a wire or a machine, which was the fleece blanket over his toes.

“It’s the truth, I swear it is. I... There’s a reactor in Nibehlheim where I’m from. But, it’s old and nobody goes near it. I think I’ve been exposed to more mako in the air here than I ever have been in my life at home.”

Cloud didn’t want to meet the man’s eyes. It was more like looking into a security camera. He truly should have stayed in his room. If he had the choice between wrapping his skin chaffing blanket around his nose to sleep versus this, he’d stay in the terrible smelling room for two hours.

“And what of your fellow cadets? Have you ever seen any of them trying to sneak in things they’re not supposed to? ”

Cloud glanced up and back to the cover, brow crinkling as he genuinely tried to recall. He wasn’t friends with anyone, and it wasn’t like they let him in on any secrets. At most he got to see...

“I’ve seen some of them sneak rolled up- well, dirty magazines and junk food. I don’t- I mean, I’m not interested in that stuff.” It was too embarrassing to say ‘I don’t have any friends and they wouldn’t let me in on it anyway.’

Tseng hummed, straightening his posture. “And what of your superiors? How often do you visit the medical lab, and has anyone asked you to ingest or take any unknown substances?”

Before today the last shot he got were immunities.

“No Mr. Tseng. I took the standard immunization and drug tests but have only visited the nurses for minor injuries and a bad reaction to shell fish.”

Which was a shame. There were so many dishes to try in the dining hall he never had at home. The other cadets complained about it, but he was more than willing and happy to try something new when he’d arrived even if he only had fifteen minutes to eat it.

Tseng stood, not wasting any time to roll the chair back to its original position and addressed Cloud once more.

“Cadet Strife, thank you for your cooperation. Please expect to hear from us again soon.”

The door slid closed, and Cloud closed his eyes, frustrated.

He sincerely hoped soon meant never.

---------------------------------

Cadet training from then on became uncomfortable for everyone.

0600 Hours

Cloud was unceremoniously back in his room after filling out more paperwork and signing his name enough to fill a small novel. On top of those false friendly people in black suits handing him a brand new PHS. He wasn’t too dumb of a country boy to know he was being watched.

The first phone he ever bought was an older, prepaid PHS with limited features but he could still read and post on forums as well as see pictures. This new hunk of technology made him feel like he’d been transported a thousand years in the future, touch screen, video, and it even came with a compartmentalized stylus to help with his bumbling fingers.

He really preferred his older one.

All his contacts had been imported over, including Mom’s. However, he knew he couldn’t actually tell her what happened. The first time he pleaded to call his mother, several doctors turned to face him at once with eerie, wide eyes and that deleted any sense of letting the outside world know what happened. And so, his bunk mates sat on their respective beds, staring while Cloud stood there, twiddling his thumbs and looking at the floor while trying to explain what he couldn’t say.

“You are not to tell anyone anything you heard here. You will not answer any questions unless your answer is “I don’t know” or “It’s classified.” Is this understood?”

Those were the last words spoken to him by yet another stranger that seemed to know what was going on, but he still didn’t.

“So...” one of the boys said, dragging the word out. “What happened?”

Cloud pulled his lips into a tight, uncomfortable smile. “It’s classified.”

0800 Hours

Cloud, despite being ignorant of the world outside his home until leaving it was not necessarily stupid.

He knew a lot about botany, monsters, basic sciences and practical survivability. What he didn’t know was that at some point in the night, he had memorized every single lesson they ever taught.

Being the smallest boy with the worst physical scores, he was the target of always being called upon during classroom lessons. Some did it out of spite, and others thought he had a bright future as a lab tech. How he was able to explain the different stages of materia and the process of mastering them was not something he knew until asked.

He also knew the full anatomy of a Kalm Fang, Hedgehog Pie and multiple types of Bombs.

Oops.

His academic scores were always slightly above average, but now? He would have exceeded a perfect record. Cloud sat in his seat, white in the face and looking for hidden messages on top of his desk as the Instructor’s phone buzzed, and the class remained silent.  

“That is correct Cadet Strife, thank you.”

Cloud looked up just in time to see the man putting away his own device and looking just as confused as Cloud felt.

Yeah, he was totally being watched.

Walking through the halls, he expected to be confronted, shoved, something from someone who felt they needed to put the teacher’s pet in their place. The opposite happened, where everyone kept a two body radius when approaching like he had a very impressive Barrier active.

Lunch was hardly any better.

It wasn’t as though he regularly shared a table with anyone, if anything, he frequented a quiet corner where boys who didn’t give two shits about underperforming Cadet Strife occupied the space around him. Today?

Six of them sat shoulder to shoulder, hurrying to eat their meals while Cloud poked holes in his own with a plastic fork.

He wasn’t hungry, stomach plummeting and tensing for hours.

At 1500 hours, he felt like vomiting.

Well, crying, vomiting and shivering under the covers more like, but the nausea was more than plenty.

Not only that, he would have to endure that damned smell.

The boys were hygienic enough as regulated, no one could just skip showers or not put on deodorant. There was always the scent of sweat hanging in the air somewhere, leaving Cloud to get a whiff of over eager teenage boys in every crevice. He took out his PHS when allowed to return to his room, it was a Saturday, only academic classes and the remainder of the day to relax.

Cloud stared at his mother’s number, which he’d memorized, but it helped to look at it. His old phone did not have a camera, and so he wasn’t able to take any pictures with her before leaving. The longing to listen to her wash dishes and talk was overwhelming, but whatever was on this thing, it was keeping the people in the big tower aware of anything he said or did.

Cell phones were not allowed in classrooms or during training, but Tseng had instructed him, looking him in the eye as he did so, to have it never leave his side.

The thought occurred to him, could he just... talk to them like this?

Looking around the empty bunk room, he swallowed.

“Uh- hey, hi. I...” Cloud felt his cheeks go a bit red. “I’m not sure exactly how this thing works, but you can hear me, right? Is that how you knew what I answered in class?”

Cloud’s hand began to tremble, the screen was still on his contact list, but there was no indication that anyone was responding.

“Guess not...” he grumbled, putting it back in his pocket.

There was still a lot of time left in the day, and he really, really wanted to call home. Mom must have been worried sick at this point, but what could he tell her? The phone returned to his hand and he grimaced, lips turned down as his upper teeth worried his lower lip. Before he could regret it, he used his index finger to start the home screen, and tap, tap, tap until reaching the desired contact, and finally, hitting the CALL icon.

It took two rings to make a cold pool form at his feet as fear gripped him tight by the ankles. Oh gods above would they go after his mother? Was he putting her in danger? They already knew his number, right? Did those people in black suits go and find her?

“Hello, Strife residence.”

Mom...

“Mom hey, it’s me. Is- is everything alright?” Cloud leaned forward on his bed, gripping the round, metal edge with one hand.

“There you are sweetheart! I was getting worried when you didn’t call me at your usual time. Is everything ok? What’s wrong?”

Her voice was as kind and loving as he remembered.

“O-oh. No- see, well, something... that I can’t talk about came up. Army stuff. I’m sorry. I just- I thought that – I'm sorry, I really can’t talk about it.”

Claudia Strife was silent, but Cloud could still hear her breathing.

“Why can’t you talk about it?” She asked, voice steeled.

“I just, well...” Cloud would have swore but held his tongue, shaking his head and rubbing his forehead.

“I got sick and thought they contacted you- but I’m better now! I swear. It was just a bad reaction to something I ate a-and I didn’t know if they were going to ask you things. That’s all.”

Lying to his mother twisted his insides worse than being in that damn hospital, he was glad he didn’t eat anything.

“Oh my poor boy, are you sure you’ll be alright?”

Cloud could hear her defenses unlock as hardened resolve melted to concern and care. But he couldn’t drag her into whatever this mess could be called.

“Yeah, they put me on some ShinRa medication, I’m feeling pretty good! I just- you know, they don’t want people learning medical secrets or calling lawyers I guess.” Cloud wanted to force a laugh, but cringed, rubbing his stomach.

“Well it’s good to hear from you regardless. I want you to be safe in that big city you hear?”

She wasn’t there to stroke his hair down, but he knew she would. Swallowing, he nodded.

“Yeah, sorry to worry you. I’ll be fine. I gotta go though.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, mom.”

Hanging up, he stood, wiping his eyes with his forearm and paced all six feet of the space from the wall to the door. Something didn’t seem right from the corner of his eye and he glanced down at the bed. There was a Cloud sized hand print where he gripped the metal frame on the side of his bunk. What the hell was going on?!

[pleasantanathema]

Sinful Hymns

Pairing: Erwin Smith x Fem!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Warnings: Hair pulling, some rough sex, sex on a desk, religious allusions, a dash of authority kink, no spoilers past early season 1

Word Count: 4k

A/N: In celebration of Season 4 of Attack on Titan airing today, here’s a fulfilled request for Commander Handsome 💕 Thank you so much to the anon who requested this, I had so much fun writing this!

           You couldn’t sleep. There was a nagging in your mind, shadowy visions of titans ascending mountains, climbing walls—the same nightmares that plagued you ever since you joined the scouts all those years ago. You found yourself in the showers, all alone scrubbing away your sins and torments. But even a cleansing couldn’t seem to quell your thoughts, so you roamed.

           The meandering halls of the old scout regiment headquarters were cold, musty, unwelcoming even with Levi’s cleaning. Glimmering lamp light under a cracked door caught your attention, the only light you’d seen while on your stroll.

           The Commander was still awake.

           You weren’t sure what compelled you to stop, to bring your knuckles to rap against the wood of the door. You’d once been quite close with Erwin, back when you were both cadets and working your way up the ranks, but he’d become quite elusive since becoming the Commander. You’d always been interested in him, found your gaze lingering on him a little too long when was around. There was some kind of irresistible, seductive pull towards him, like if you got close enough, he might let you explore the man under the armor. You wondered if he felt it, too, or if your lust was one-sided.

          You were just too curious about what would keep him awake at night. Maybe he struggled with the same miseries you did when the nights felt too dark.

          Tentatively, you slid past the open door.

          Blue eyes caught your movement, his handsome face tilting towards you from where it was seated in his palm.

          He whispered your name, smile tugging at his cheeks.

          “Commander Smith,” you acknowledged, “you’re up quite late.”

          “Seems I’m not the only one.” There was an amusement in his voice that you couldn’t quite place.

          He leaned back in his chair as you stayed in your place, a sudden rise of bashfulness making you bite at the inside of your lip. You were sure you were pestering him; you should’ve just wandered back to your room. Your feet were ready to move, heels pressed against the floor to turn and leave at his behest.

          “Is there something I can help you with?”

          “I—no, I just couldn’t sleep. Apologies, I shouldn’t have bothered you.”

          “No, you’re no bother. Rather, you’re quite a pleasant distraction at the moment,” he gestured to his desk, littered with paperwork and books opened to forgotten pages, “come in, shut the door behind you.”

           You did as you were so kindly told, clicking the door into place behind you before moving in closer. His office was warm, bathed in dim candlelight from the lamp on his desk, shadows being cast from the bookshelves that lined the walls. You noticed he was in only a white button-down and trousers, his ODM gear placed neatly on a chest behind where he sat.

          Your hands came to rest on the chair that was placed in front of his desk for his visitors. You remained standing, not quite ready to be so familiar as to just sit and talk with him. There was humor in his eyes as they scanned your figure, undoubtedly surprised to see you dressed so casually as well, simple pants and shirt being all you brought to wear after taking your late-night shower.

          “Tell me, what keeps you awake?”

           There were many answers to his question, but you erred on the side of simplicity.

           “Nightmares. What about you? What’s kept you awake tonight?”

            Erwin sighed, deep and heavy from his chest. You observed how his long fingers gripped at the armrest of his seat, knuckles white.

           “Letters. Demands from the Military Police to hand over the boy who turns into a titan, demands from royalty to execute him. But also my own curiosities. I’ve been reading to see if there are any records of anyone else like him.”

           “I see,” your tongue clicked behind your lips as you recognized the heaviness bound within his broad shoulders, “anything I can help you with?”

           He smiled fully then, white teeth curving against his pretty lips.

          “Like I said, you’re a welcome distraction. How have you been?”

           Again, there were too many ways to answer his question. But you couldn’t bring yourself to bring your burdens to him, not when he was already carrying the weight of the world upon his back.

          “Life isn’t as simple as it used to be,” not that living in this world had ever been easy.

          “No, I’m afraid it isn’t.”

           You caught an etching of the walls on his desk, details of Sina and Maria partially obscured by a leather-bound book, penciled in lines and notes scribbled around the paper’s edges. Something about it drew you in, had you moving to perch on the edge of his desk, one thigh crinkling pages of ink as your fingers deftly plucked at the drawing.

           He watched you with curiosity, eyebrows lifted as he brought a hand to his chin.

          Your nail traced against the charcoal lines, gaze scanning the comprehensive sketch of the rounded walls and the cities held within them.

         “My father used to think there was some kind of power within the walls; believed there was some unseen magic lingering within the stones to keep us safe…” you trailed off, the rest of your thoughts caught within your throat, “...I’m glad he wasn’t alive when the walls were breached, would’ve ruined the mystery for him.”

         “Was he a believer in the Church of the Walls?”

         “No,” you hummed softly, “just someone who thought there was more to the story.”

          Quite like yourself, you wanted to say, but left the words unspoken. You set the yellowing paper back on his desk, arms crossing.

          He rolled his shoulders in a quiet stretch, running a tired hand through his blonde undercut as he looked up at you. You’d always found him overwhelmingly handsome, the kind of man who changed the atmosphere of a room when he walked in. But there was always a warmth to him, like there was always something brewing, churning inside that enticing mind of his.

          “I never could understand how people could worship the walls,” he mused, shifting his weight forward, getting a little closer to where you were perched, “not when there are other, more...beautiful things to praise.”

          Heat crept up the back of your neck, your too-close proximity to him becoming all too apparent. But he kept getting closer.

          His hand found your knee, fingers trailing over the tight threads of your pants.

          The act seemed endearing, harmless, but the simple touch had your desire rearing its sordid head again. You felt emboldened, confidence swelling in your chest.

         “Then what would you worship, Erwin?”

         “I’m a man of too many sins, I doubt there’s any kind of faith that could bring me absolution.”

          Your fingers ached to touch him, your hand reaching toward his face before your mind could stop the movement. His cheek was warm, skin soft under the brush of your thumb.

          “I don’t believe that. There has to be something beautiful for you to admire…” you felt his fingers tighten against your leg, drifting higher up your thigh, pulling you in, bringing you closer.

          “I could start with you.”

          The tension snapped, splitting like a tightly strung cord between you. You heeded the call to be nearer, moving your hand to rest against his shoulder for balance as you took the initiative to settle yourself in his lap. For a moment, you worried that you pushed too far, that you’d invaded his personal space and made him uncomfortable. But those fears were battered quickly when eager hands took hold of your waist, palms spread wide as they trailed up your back.

          “I’ve always admired you from afar,” he was hushed, breath fanning over your neck, “but you’re much easier to worship up close.”

          You kissed him without a second thought. Years of attraction, of adoration, fueled your lips, your hands grasping at his jawline as he met your passion. His mouth slanted against yours ardently, impatient hands slipping under your shirt.

          You sucked in a sharp breath through your nose at the feel of his warm fingers ghosting up your skin, now suddenly very aware you hadn’t bothered to wear anything below your clothes—you thought you’d be returning to your room, not wandering into your Commander’s lap. You moaned into his mouth, his tongue slipping past your parted lips to taste you. You were overcome with too much, all your senses now flooding with Erwin, his scent, his touch, his entire being smothering you with all the attentions you had ever craved from him.

          His thumbs brushed the undersides of your breasts, a groan leaving his chest when you settled lower into his lap, your thighs draped over his own and your core pressed against his hardening cock.

          This wasn’t real—this couldn’t be real, surely you were caught up in one of your dreams again, but his lips against yours felt real, felt hungry, his large hands now cupping and holding the weight of your breasts within his hands. Your fingers carded through his hair, nails delicately raking through the roots to remind yourself that it was him, that this was real.

          “You taste like sin,” he praised, peppering kisses down the column of your throat.

          Any thought you had of replying disappeared when strong fingers pinched at your nipples, causing a heavy moan to fall out of your mouth as your head tilted back, allowing him more access to your neck. He plucked tenderly at your sensitive flesh, a noticeable smirk growing upon his lips as each tug and roll of your breasts had you gasping, whining. He quite liked that, it seemed, to be able to play you so easily.

          You mumbled curses into the air, eyes fluttering closed. You experimentally rolled your hips in his lap, an attempt to get a similar rise from him. He bared his teeth against your throat, canines nipping into your skin before pressing his lips down more forcefully, sucking and lapping at your neck. Heat bloomed from where his mouth met your body, a telling sign that you would have a mark there to remember him by. He was careful, choosing a supple spot below where the collar of your uniform would cover you tomorrow.

           Erwin’s hands released your aching breasts, moving down to grasp at the hem of your shirt.

          “Take this off,” he demanded, a string of saliva still connecting his lips to your neck.

           You dropped your hands from his hair, trailing down his broad chest before meeting his hands and pulling your shirt up over your head. It fell to the floor carelessly, the chill of the room making your skin pebble with gooseflesh.

           You took note of how his cheeks were flushed pink, blush faint across his elegant aquiline nose.

           His intimidating, icy eyes flickered up to you, making your own flush spread across your body. You felt like he was looking through you, reading your thoughts, hearing your internal screams for more. Then, his gaze fell back to your heaving breasts, hands greedily taking them again, lips wrapping around one of your nipples and making you whimper.

           You could feel his cock pressing against you now, harder and thicker than before, the ridge of it nestled against your throbbing cunt. You rolled yourself against it, delighted sounds leaving both of your mouths at the contact. His tongue swirled around your puckered nipple, teeth just barely daring to drag against your flesh. You buried your fingers into his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten and then relax at your touch.

          “Oh-oh fuck, I—,”

          “You’re dripping,” he interrupted, one of his hands unclasping from your breast and drifting down your belly to rub at the damp spot between your legs, “I can feel you against me.”

           You shivered at the wanton touch, thighs clenching against his legs.

          “Did you come here tonight to seduce me?”

           He mumbled the words against your breast, tongue flattening against your nipple with a few long, heavy licks as his eyes flashed up to you, waiting for your response.

           “No, sir, I promise that wasn’t my,” you moaned as a thick finger slid against your clit through your clothes, “that wasn’t my intention.”

           His wet lips left your breast, coy smirk painting his face.

          “Shame, that was my plan the moment you stepped into my office.”

           You always did fall for his tricks; if only you’d known his hand against your thigh earlier wasn’t so harmless after all.

          “And how did this plan of yours end, Commander?”

           It still felt strange to call him by that title after so many years of calling him by his name, but there was something sensual about it, something alluring about his newfound authority.

           His hands were pushing at your hips, fingers crushing into your skin as he lifted you to move back.

          “With you bent over my desk.”

           It didn’t take him long to wrangle you into the position he so desired. His hands were unhurried, purposeful as he pushed you to stand, peeling your pants down your legs before pressing your face into the pile of papers on his desk. You felt so exposed, what with him being able to see your pussy on display from behind you while all you could focus on was his touch and the way the flame at the edge of his desk flickered.

           Erwin’s fingers spread the folds of your cunt, an appreciative hum sounding from his throat. You mewled at the touch, thighs shaking in your anticipation. The button to his pants popped softly, then you finally felt him, felt his hard, thick cock nudging at your entrance.

           Your hands crumpled a few pages as you searched for something to cling to. Your heart was pounding in your ears, suddenly all too aware that the Commander was still fully clothed, while you were laid out across his desk like a naked whore. One of his hands pulled at your hip, the other trailing down the expanse of your back.

           There was a boldness coming to life inside you at the realization that he’d wanted you the moment you appeared within his room.

           “Worth worshipping, Erwin?”

            You ate your words as he shoved himself inside you, stretching you to your limits as your body burned to accommodate his size. You cried out against the mass of papers, eyes blurring as pleasure burst across all of your nerve endings.

            He groaned at the feeling himself, both hands now digging into the meat of your hips.

            “Fuck,” you heard him breath in deep as he slid is cock out of you before slamming in again, “oh absolutely, darling.”

            You hadn’t heard Erwin curse before.

            But you didn’t have time to dwell on your thoughts, not with him now moving ruthlessly inside you, hips snapping against your ass with every sharp, deep thrust. Little sounds left your lips with every plunge, blissful tingles stemming from where your bodies were conjoined. You loved how you could feel the head of his fat cock dragging along your walls, thick veins throbbing under silken skin.

             You were far past believing this was a dream, now convinced you were actually in the sweet joys of a paradise beyond life.

             A coil of pleasure began to tighten within your lower stomach, hot and mean, like it was ready to tear and erupt with a rush of ecstasy. You moaned his name like a prayer, eyes closed tightly as you focused on the intensity of his cock thrusting inside you.

             You wouldn’t last long, not with the sinful hymns of his grunts and praises resounding behind you. His sounds were faint, but they were there, little rumbling of “so good, so tight,” kissing at your ears.

             God, you could die. You could die and live a happy, full life from this moment alone. You felt so whole with him inside you, felt coated with desire and praise like never before. There were bruises already forming from his grip, you could feel them, skin sore and burning beneath his massive hands.

             “You’re beautiful wrapped around my cock,” he voiced, tone deep and praising, brawny arm sweeping up your spine to fist in your hair. Your head jerked with his action, back arching as he pulled at you. You gasped at the discomfort, a dull ache forming from his too-tight grip. But the pain was overshadowed by the rivers of rapture running over your skin. Your breasts bounced with every thrust, your whole body rebounding like snapping elastic from his brutal behavior.

             The new angle had his cock slamming against that spot inside you that had your body going almost numb from the pleasure, white hot heat spreading over all your limbs, making your toes curl against the floor. You felt like you were fracturing, that thrilling tendril tightening in your belly to its breaking point. You could feel your walls sucking in his cock, your body pleading on its own.

             “Oh fuck, Commander—Erwin,” you were completely lost to the delirium, mind ruined.

            “I know,” he grunted, fingers stiffening in your hair, craning your neck back farther, “I feel you, you’re so—you’re so fucking tight.”

            You crashed down around him, your cunt clenching and pulsing in waves of euphoria, each crest making your lower muscles spasm. Your chin fell, your head only being held by the might of his hand, your brain so foggy with lust and release that you felt as if you had ascended the walls too quickly and fallen back down again. A fresh, euphoric jolt splintered down your body as he sheathed his cock fully into your depths, making your eyes flutter as your mouth opened in a glorious, blissed out state.

           Your body threatened to crumple against the desk, but he held you; the space between his palms and strong fingers was one of the safest places in the world, nothing could touch you if Erwin had you beneath his touch. The fierce tightening of your body sent him over the edge. Hot cum poured inside of you, making you cry out at the captivating feeling of being completely filled by him, the Commander’s seed pooling within your pussy. Your snug walls struggled to flutter around the girth of his cock, prolonging your orgasm and leaving you gasping for breath and basking in every dull thump of his cock inside of you.

           He gently let go of your hair, letting your spent body rest against the desk as he caught his breath. He smoothed his hands over your hips, a tinge of regret in his chest as he noticed the dark prints of his fingers etched into your skin. Erwin wasn’t used to letting go, to letting lust overtake him so mercilessly.

           You stirred after a few moments, straightening your back and finding your balance between your legs. Erwin enveloped you in his arms, hand against your cheek as he trailed his lips up your neck, capturing the side of your mouth with a fervent kiss.

          “Are you alright, darling?” Concern laced his tone, hand smoothing over your belly. You shuttered at the gentle touch, your skin cooling from sweat as you leaned back against his chest, cum sticky and crawling down your thighs.

           You still felt lost, like you were waking from the dark depths of slumber, his hands calling you to him. One palm wrapped around your neck, stroking at the column of your throat like he was helping you to find your breath.

          “Yes, yes I’m…,” you couldn’t think of the words to describe just how you felt. It was like you’d finally been cleansed, every grievous thought expunged from your mind, but also like you’d fallen back into the past, back into your daydreams of wishing Erwin would press you against the barracks wall and smothering his name from your mouth.

         “It is yes sir, to you, don’t forget I’m your superior now,” he teased between nips and kisses, a smile brushing against your skin.

         You turned in his arms, pressing your naked chest against his wrinkled shirt, the cotton soft against your breasts. You stood on your toes to try and match his height, molding your lips to his, stealing his grin and making it your own.

          “I could never forget, not with such a display of power,” you affirmed, seriousness apparent on your tongue. You knew he could take anything he wanted from you, and you were more than willing to lay yourself bare for him whenever he pleased.

          You expected there to be a stillness between you, a moment of reflection after such a callous coupling. But Erwin’s hands were greedy, selfish, cupping and kneading at the soft flesh of your ass, of the side of your breast. You were small in his shadow; a miniscule frame being devoured by a starved predator.

          “I want to see just how well you obey orders. Go to my quarters and wait for me, I’m not finished with you yet.”

           Your head nodded accordingly, your knees ready to kneel to the floor and gather your forgotten garments. But Erwin kept his fingers in your flesh, preventing you from moving from his hold when you tried.

           “Ah, I don’t think you need your clothing, not when you’ll just be shedding it again so soon.”

           There was a playful glint in his eyes, his eyebrows thoughtfully pressed together as he tried to gauge your response.

           “Erwin,” his hands cinched around your body, an acute reminder, “sir, I can’t...walk to your room naked.”

           He patted your backside before he sat back into the chair behind his desk, cock tucked neatly back into his pants. There was still a pretty blush tingeing his cheeks, his lips plump and dark pink from all their time spent sucking at your skin. You almost wanted to cover yourself under his scrutinizing gaze, icy irises roaming your body like a piece of art bought and hung on a wall for his viewing pleasure.

           “It’s late, there shouldn’t be anyone to find you,” he relaxed, arms crossing across his chest, “but, if you happen to be unfortunate, remind them that you are under your Commander’s orders.”

           Erwin took a sick delight in watching your eyes narrow at him, your lips pursing in slight irritation; but he knew you wouldn’t dare disobey him, you’d always been too good of a soldier for that, and now a promising plaything.

           He couldn’t help but survey your body as you walked towards the door, delicious curves and marks from his skin on an alluring display, his cum still flowing down your thighs. You’d be a blessed sight to anyone who got the privilege to see you on your journey to his sleeping quarters, a goddess floating down the corridors.

           You looked over your shoulder at him when you opened the door, catching his diligent gaze and matching it. He always thought you’d be amusing to toy with and you’d proven that with how easily you could match his intensity.

           “You shouldn’t be up so late, Commander Smith, nothing good happens after midnight.”

           He hid the smirk behind his hand as you left his office the same as you entered, only bare-skinned and with a new, more suitable destination.

[lostonehero]

Half Zoroark au

So Emmet and Ingo father isn't human he's a Zoroark

(i'm going with noble pokemon in the future can take on human forms and have kids with humans if they so desire)

The twins have no trace of black hair however the white hair genetics are too strong

Only the twins family knows what they are

Both there mother and father agreed to let them be raised by their uncle Drayden so they could live with the rest of humanity

The twins can talk to and understand all pokemon

When not using an illusion they have the Zoroark ears and clawed hands and feet, and extremely sharp teeth.

They can also use their illusion to turn into any person or pokemon however the pokemon one takes for more.effort and drains them

Both of there hair grows extremely quick so they help groom each other everyday.

They both can use pokemon moves and are extremely dangerous when threatened.

Now that the basics are explained

When Ingo gets thrown into the past he can talk to the pokemon who all bristle at this "human" however he doesn't know why he is able to and it gets complicated when he is accepted by the pearl clan who opt to keep it hidden

Emmet is a mess and after a month he locks himself away on a "vacation" Elesa is the one who finally knocks his door and finds his pokemon fine but Emmet is unkempt and his hair has gotten so long and he has a beard to match

Elesa helps clean up Emmet and they have a very good and long cry

Fast foward a year Emmet is not holding back in any pokemon battles on the subway amd hasn't lost a single battle since Ingo has dissapeared

Elesa is convinced that something is going on because she might of seen Emmet's illusion drop once or twice while they hung out together. Like why is Emmet's nails curved, why does his hair grow so fast, how does he have so much hair that he can shed, and so on and so forth.

Meanwhile in the pearl clan Ingo I'd just doing his best knowing barely anything about himself but is an asset to the pearl clan because of his abilities he doesn't really understand.

[planettnibiruu]

My hcs on what the boys look like

Tw for discussion of weight and body types

Luci <3

First of all, he's got a really sharp and angeled face. His nose is sharp and long, cheekbones prominent as well. He looks like one of those Roman statues. He's got really nice lips, the bottom one is slightly bigger then the top on, and they've got a natural pinkish colour. His eyes look dark gray from afar but if you see them unclosed they're mixture of blues, green and brown so light it looks like gold

He's got alot of muscle mass, but he also doesn't have the most time to workout, so his body is a little softer then he'd like. Hes kind of slim thick tho, and his chest is pretty defined. Its the thing he likes best about his body. Hes got really nice v lines too, and nice thighs as well. His body is kind of like this.

He has really nice hands though, big slightly callsoued palms, long fingers with a small scar on the left index one. His nails are clean, cuctiles mostirised and nails painted nicely (thanks asmo <3.) There's also a couple veins on each hand, and a ring or two aswell.

I also hc he used to have acne when he first fell but asmo helped him out with it. Also Lucifer has freckles and moles dotting his body (they're very cute features idc if you think not lol)

Mam <3

I hc him to be Filipino/Dominican, so he has a softer/flatter face. His nose has a really nice curve aswell (I'm totally not basing his features off of mine, no, no, no) and his nostrils are wide, slightly upturned too. He's got really nice lashes though, long and thick. His eyes are blue and swirl in a way that look like whirlpools. He has plump slightly upturned lips, they're also two toned.

Mam has more of a toned body then muscular. He has a line going down from the middle of his chest, and he has slight abs as well. He is still quite scrawny, so he doesn't build muscle easy, and cardio being his favourite way to exercise doesn't help either. He has really nice legs and a phat ass tho, guess running good for something. He feels a little insecure about his arms tho, so he does try to pay special attention to then and his back.

He has nice hands, a lil chubby but just enough to be soft. They're free of scars and callouses, he needs to be picture ready. He does wear rings tho, pretty gold ones with big jewles. Mam is constantly finding with them, and he also cracks his knuckles every hour on the dot.

Levi <3

HE 👏 HAS 👏 ACNE 👏. It's so cute though, spotted all over his cheeks. He hates it, thinks it makes him yucky. His eyes are a really deep blue/Gray, and they're just *muah*. His face is on the softer side, but he does have a big nose with the bump in the middle. His cheeks also always have a blush, it's really cute.

He's got a lil tummy pooch. That's it.

No okay but he's just soft all around. He does have muscle but a deit of ramen and anime themed chips does not allow for a 6pack. He is boney though, he's also extremely pale. He is super lanky, and tall, which is why he hunches so hard, he doesn't like to be noticed. I like to think that when he gets told he'll be returning to his navey role he trains up, when he does, he looks like Lucifer with a bit more chub

[sekceesimps]

Shimmering Through Darkness (a Zhongli x reader oneshot)

summary:   Rex Lapis finally retires and allows for Zhongli to spend time with his darling. Basically just tooth rotting Zhongli retirement fluff with a lil spice!  (tried to make reader GN)

a/n  Schlongli is so sexy I can’t. This man is literally my entire reason for shifting. Hope all of you enjoy some fluffy Zhongli. Leave some feedback and drop a request! 

Sincerely Coffee 

Rex Lapis had been tired for so long. His responsibilities over the thousands of years in existence had drained him of strength and the will to continue his rule over the land of Liyue. 

He had been wandering the lands and been practically stripped of all purpose in his life. At least, that was until he met you. 

Your meeting had felt fated and arranged by powers far more powerful than him. Zhongli truly believed that the two of you were soulmates and quite honestly he was probably correct. He was ready to spend the rest of his entire life with you, however long that may be. 

Now the two of you had met by chance on one of your work ventures. He had been off at Wuwang Hill for funeral arrangements, a task that he found needless, but was thrust on him by the lack of workers at the parlor. You had gone there to investigate a slew of ghostly sightings, a task which you were loath to do alone. 

He had run straight into you while you were wandering around the houses looking for clues from a mysterious particle. Instantly, he had been captured by your stunning E/C eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and body alert, but still relaxed. You had apologized for bumping into him and all he could do was stupidly stare at you open mouthed as you bashfully rubbed your neck with your hand. Ever the gentleman, he aided you with your commission and accompanied you back to Liyue Harbor. Well, next thing you know he’s inviting you to dinner and a few months later you’re living together. 

Your relationship blossomed much faster than either of you had expected. Zhongli was not going to complain though, every action of yours, as simple as it may be, seemed to spark something within him. Your very existence gave him reason to live and to plan a future that wasn’t a dead end one. 

He had been with many lovers over his years of existence, but none of them made him flustered or dream of keeping them close at his side. Zhongli prided himself on his calm composure, but when you gently ran your fingers across his knuckles or through his long dark hair, he was a blushing and speechless mess. To think that he was once the most fear striking and rageful Archon as you wrapped your arms around his lithe form and rested your chin on his head. 

You hadn’t really been shocked when he had told you that he was Rex Lapis. He was probably more surprised than you when all you did was shrug and leave kisses across his jaw. You truly are perfect for him, he thinks as you pull him to your side on the bed and shower him with love that he had not experienced in thousands of years. 

One of his favorite things to do with you is grasp your hand, lacing your fingers with his, and take you to all his favorite locations in Liyue. Really, his dates are just adventures of their own. He finds so much joy from being able to watch your eyes sparkle as he tells you a tale of a battle or an event that happened at a certain ruin or cliffside. His heart never fails to race when you rest your head on his shoulder and let him hold you close to his side. 

Living together was not something he wanted to ask of you, as you had yet to be married and his traditionalist ideals feared offending you. The concept of marriage was one of which he was beginning to entertain more and more. However, when you begin to stop accepting commissions in faraway regions, choosing to instead stay by his side more often, it leads to you not really being able to have a stable place to lodge. 

He was quick to use the Northland Bank’s funds to purchase a beautiful home slightly north of the bustling harbor. You were a little annoyed that he hadn’t consulted you and you could have paid for it yourself, however the pride in his eyes of being able to provide for you (ahem Childe provided for you, but neither of you say anything) just filled you with acceptance over the new developments. Shortly after, you decide to invite him to stay with you, not really knowing if he had even had a place to sleep in the first place. 

Zhongli preened under the attention you gave him at home. Almost every night, the two of you had accustomed yourselves to wrapping in eachothers arms and basking in the warm embrace of the other. These wonderful moments in your shared home gave him more meaning than he’d ever had before. His existence was now only to please and provide for you and your happiness. 

Retirement was an idea, just a faraway dream, that he could never be able to accomplish. He had his duties in Liyue! The people needed him to stave away threats and preside over the land. Yet, Zhongli no longer wanted to have dominion over Liyue, instead, he wanted to finally rest at your side. As the people of Liyue began to grow more self-sufficient, he began to see it fit to depart.

He had let the idea simmer in his mind for years, but now his plans could possibly reach fruition. He wasn’t like the Mondstadt Archon, Barbatos. Freedom was not his forte, he was the Archon of contracts. The great Rex Lapis had sworn to protect these people in the place he called home. As his definition of home shifted from the vast and diverse lands and mountainscapes of Liyue towards you and the warmth and love that you provided, his decision became clear. These people could care for themselves for the time being, and he wasn’t going to be going too far. 

When he broke the news to you, he had blushed at the way a smile broke across your face and you embraced him with fervor. He had planned for you two to live in your small home near the Guili Plains, but your begging to live somewhere with a few more people prompted him to decide to move to Qingce Village. After all, his home was wherever you were. 

You were the one who had to do most of the working and wage earning as he had no mora. He felt a bit guilty when you would come home exhausted every few days and he was just brewing some tea for the two of you. To be fair, the tea he made was very good and he was trying to master how to cook certain dishes so he could please you. 

Traditional husband and wife roles had shifted considerably as Zhongli was staying home and cooking and cleaning while he waited for you to come home from work. Your home itself was located in the outskirts of the village, allowing for a slightly longer travel, but privacy that Zhongli now desired. He was more and more relaxed and trusted you enough to mostly shed his troublesome human form. 

His draconic features were more apparent as he relaxed by your side in the spacious home. His golden eyes had a more prominent glow and two sharp curved horns protruded from his head. His nails were longer and more sharp and some days, parts of his skin would be shiny with scales. He was still in a human form for your convenience, however it helped him rest when he showed parts of his real body. Perhaps one day he’d show you his true self, but he’d have to do it in a secluded area, he is supposed to be dead after all.  

Zhongli in retirement was far more interested in children than he would have thought. While you might not have been technically married yet, something which he was eager to fix, he still wanted to start a family with you. After several long talks you decide to hold off for the moment, whether you want to have children or not, Zhongli is anxious to one day expand the home the two of you have created. 

Truly, he is much more domestic and eager to help you in any way he can. Especially in the bedroom. As he is slightly more dragon like now, those features seep into your more intimate moments. He’s more keen on marking and claiming you than he was before. Probably because he views you as his and is loath to allow others near you. He’s definitely more soft than before and prefers to have you guide the way. His yearning for that domestic life has really give you more control. It’s also given him a renewed focus on your pleasure and on taking care of you afterwards. 

Zhongli is glad that he found you. You’ve given him a sense of normalcy, a home, and love which he has never really felt before. You are his guiding light, his reason for life, and person he  wants to protect above all else. As his soulmate, you’ve cut through the darkness of the past several hundred years and provided him with everything he never knew he needed. 

a/n I’m currently writing Genshin NSFW HCs and I elaborate more about Zhongli there, so keep your eyes peeled! Hope you enjoyed this piece though. 

[fuckyeahharryhart]

THE ART OF SEDUCTION Reader Insert

After working months at his side, whether it be in the field, during training, debriefing in his office, or simply occupying the same space in quieter moments- reading in the lounge with a cup of tea, enjoying a few precious moments of peace, you were no closer at deciphering the gorgeous mystery that was Harry Hart. Your time with him merely reinforced what you already knew. And what you knew had, much to your chagrin, become increasingly and disconcertingly distracting with every moment you shared space with him. Harry was beautiful, obviously. You determined that the moment you saw him. Even from a distance, he cut a striking figure. But it was the understated way he acknowledged his own appearance, knew that it was pleasing and accepted it with grace, dignity and a matter-of-factness, that only made him more attractive.

Harry Hart’s appeal wasn’t just based on his good looks. There were other men who had more classically balanced features. It was significantly more than good genes or the symmetry of bone structure. Not that his purely physical attributes were lacking in any regard. You had already committed to memory every aspect of his form and figure, from his hair, with a distinguished flurry of silver, all the way down to his feet in their gleaming oxfords. No doubt polished with every wearing; they carried him with purposeful movement and long measured strides.

Harry Hart was a tall man. Often folding his legs as gracefully as possible under tables and desks that were just a breath too short to accommodate a man of his stature. He carried himself differently. Always with a posture, walk, a gait, that had a purpose.  Never rushed unnecessarily, he possessed the ease of someone in full control of his physical body. His movements were light, sharp, and kinetic. When he was still, he held himself straight and tall, without strain. In more casual moments, his weight would shift to one side or the other, or he might lean against a support, breaking up the long, precise lines of his full height.

Mostly, this had to do with a hyper awareness of his environment and his place in it. If Harry needed to calm a new recruit, he might stand with authority, but tuck his hands in his pockets, conveying a sense of ease and familiarity. When confronting an adversary, his stature seemed to grow as he pulled himself to his full height.  In those rare moments where he was free from personal and professional obligations responsibilities, as much as he could ever be, his figure would take on smooth curves and relaxed angles. The space he occupied was his to claim, mould, and manipulate. And Harry Hart did so with his body, his voice, his gaze, his way of dress.

Surprisingly, you discovered that Harry was a man who often communicated through physical touch. As a man of few words, who often guarded his privacy and personal life, you expected him to be even more reserved with his body language, to be even more wary of close physical contact. Quite the contrary, he was often more generous with a hand on the shoulder or a gentle pat on the back as a form of approval or encouragement. Sometimes, he would place his hand over yours as gesture of support and understanding. Harry was more demonstrative with contact and touch than he was with using words of praise or comfort. Even his proximity, whether it be as a figure in the distance or his physical closeness, could affect the energy of the room.

Rolling it over in your mind, you realised that it made sense that Harry would be comfortable communicating through touch. In some regards, he was a very tactile man, a sensual man, if not overtly so. He was a man that celebrated the senses.

In his office, though minimalist by Kingsman standards, austere even, there were touches of extravagance not influenced by tradition. All the furniture, as well as being beautifully made, focused on designs that were hospitable as well as functional. The chairs were comfortable. The lounge was upholstered in a dark, rich leather, well oiled and worn smooth by years of use. It was masculine, but also soft and inviting, a piece that you could relax and sink into.  A sumptuous throw. Pillows covered in dark velvet that were actually soft, not just decorative.

The items that did adorn his office were obviously selected thoughtfully and with care. The enticingly smooth curves of a vase, seemingly out of place, brilliant jade against the subdued tones of hunter green, tartans and plaid and the deep tones of polished wood and leather. The delicate lines and breathtaking color of a framed butterfly.  A small, sterling silver paperweight in the shape of a terrier. A cut crystal decanter, with matching tumblers, no doubt holding an insanely old and very expensive scotch.

There was an emphasis, not on the prestige or price of an object, but on its, color, texture, lines that were pleasing or challenging to the eye. Not as a flaunting of wealth, but a source of pleasure. It wasn’t an ostentatious display of the rich, it was the luxury of selection and taste. Any piece of clothing or fabric that touched his body directly was often luxurious, as well, scarfs, gloves, fine cashmere or calfskin leather. Though you had no way of knowing, you assumed his sheets would be of the highest thread count.

Harry’s manner of dress was immaculate and as precise as the polished, clipped tones of his aristocratic accent. He presented himself as a man who was self-assured with his appearance. Whatever he wore, he wore with confidence. He wore it well, without vanity, pretension, ego or conceit. Not that he needed the help of his wardrobe to face the world. His manner of dress seemed to highlight, magnify his innate sense of self.  He was not a flashy man, but he appreciated the expert craftsmanship that went into a finely cut suit. That good clean lines, quality materials, understated but interesting details could be the final polish on an already finely honed presentation.   

His clothing was the other area where he allowed himself some extravagance. A firm believer in the principle that if one’s self and surroundings are not only presentable, but impeccable, then one will always be prepared for what surprises life may decide to throw in one’s direction. In his line of work, unpredictability was as predictable as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west. His wardrobe countered the erratic nature of life as an agent.  Thus, his was a look of man who had his life in order.

Harry Hart was a man of consistency. His tie was an unfailing full Windsor, tucked under the spread collar of a pristine white shirt. An equally crisp pocket square, folded neatly, peeked from his breast pocket. French cuffs were secured with custom gold links, bearing the Kingsman insignia. His suits were mostly double breasted, in classic shades of black, charcoal, navy and grey and cut in a wool that was appropriate for the occasion, whether solid, pinstriped, or woven with a pattern such as herringbone, or houndstooth. After years as a Kingsman agent, he had amassed a considerable and varied wardrobe that consisted of classic suits, formal wear, overcoats, ties, scarves, for any occasion or any type of mission. Each Kingsman agent also wore a gold signet ring on the pinky of their dominant hand. Harry wore the ring on his right.

Kingsman suits were cut close to the body, but designed with allowances made to accommodate weapons, ensure maneuvrability and flexibility in all types of action. They were also bulletproof. It was a feature created after decades of experimenting with different textiles and weaves and exploring processes and techniques that would result in a material that could withstand the velocity and impact of of a bullet shot at close range. The lightweight, flexible lining was sewn into every Kingsman suit and many times proved to be a lifesaver.

Shoulder harnesses were used for carrying. Not belt clips. Belts constricted the body whereas a harness allowed freedom of movement. They were also easily and quickly detachable in case they needed to be removed. Belts, on the other hand, though they had their uses, could also cost valuable seconds when needed to be taken off. The carry position prevented printing and maintained the lines of Kingsman’s suits.

The fine, bespoke tailoring emphasized Harry’s height and build. Trousers were slim cut, long and hemmed with a perfect mid break. He preferred the simple Oxford rather than brogues. He styled his hair in a classic, handsome cut, and was always clean shaven, (unless in the field where there was no opportunity for a straight razor shave). His aftershave and cologne were unobtrusive but memorable. Rather than preceding him, the warm and masculine sent of woods and spices, with hints of cardamon, bergamot, the tactile sensuality of rich leather and suede, would linger after his departure, like a layer of warm dark velvet. Even his hands were beautiful. Beautiful but not delicate. Large wide palms, long elegant fingers, his nails were neat and clipped. They sometimes bore the marks of time spent in the field. They were strong and capable.

Overall, Harry Hart had the appearance of a man who embraced classics, honoured tradition, but defined his look with his own individual aesthetic personality and sense of style.

In quieter moments, when you had the opportunity to watch him without being too obvious or call attention to yourself, you allowed your curiosity to wonder over all the small details and mannerism that were unique to Harry. How his fingertips would gently find the arm of his glasses and rest lightly there, when he was thoughtful or pondering a question, as if it helped him focus or think.  The automatic gesture probably developed after years of transmitting information through the eyeglasses, which also functioned as communication devices.  Through your experience in human psychology, you recognised this as a self soothing gesture. Finding the comfort of something familiar. You were fairly sure that Harry was aware of this gesture and allowed himself some habits, that were, not particularly productive but, helpful nonetheless. Rubbing his thumb along the band of his signet ring. The way he would always shoot his cuffs when rising from his seat. Or run the palm of his hand along the back of his head, smoothing down the already polished hair.

Never had you met someone who had the ability to asses and evaluate any given situation as throughly and unerringly as Harry. Whether it entailed clearing a room, identifying a mark, or even just something as simple as slowing his pace when you walked along side him so you wouldn’t have to struggle to keep up. He was constantly aware of his surroundings and deconstructing what needed to happen to make the environment more pleasing, the conversation more engaging, the meeting more productive, the mission more likely to succeed. He was nothing if not thoughtful. Thus, when you walked with him, he always slowed and allowed you to maintain your own graceful stride.

His physical appearance, his exacting nature, his precise moments, his carefully maintained wardrobe, his formal patterns of speech, his refined accent, not to mention his good looks could intimidate even the most confident agent, let alone a green one.  That was until the person in question realised that this outward perfection was merely the layer that he presented to the world.

It would seem impossible for man to be blessed with so many gifts, but Harry Hart proved to be the exception to the rule, for he was as charming and gracious as he was handsome. His quick wit, his clever way with words, as well as his dry, incisive sense of humor could enthrall even the most unwilling participant.

He could placate the most difficult handler, assuage the most reluctant agent, enchant the most reserved target, or ingratiate himself into the most inhospitable of circumstances. When Harry turned on the full force of his charm, the people he met, let alone the men and women who worked with him, frequently found themselves elevated in his presence, their own experience heightened by his vitality and charisma. They left the experience a little breathless, a little awestruck, a little seduced by Harry Hart. You were no exception. And you had been spending a lot of time with him.

————

You found yourselves alone one evening at the manor. In the lounge, when you both happened to desire a drink at the same time. Most of the Kingsman had already departed for the shop if they were returning to the city. The rest had dispersed to their own private quarters, or were participating in whatever activity they had planned for the evening. The lounge was quiet. They way he liked it. Apparently, it was the way you preferred it as well.

Harry spotted you the same moment you lifted your gaze at the new arrival. Your eyes narrowed slightly in pleasure at the sight of him. You gave him a small, but welcoming smile. The musical clink of crystal against glass as he poured a scotch from the fully stocked bar was the only sound aside from the cracking logs in the grand fireplace.

The club was a vast space with a vaulted ceiling. The stately fireplace stood on the far wall. Like most of the manor, it was dressed in masculine shades of dark brown and hunter greens, tartan and plaids. Polished hardwood furniture, mostly antique, and historical paintings, displaying the rich history of Kingsman, whispered class and wealth. In the center was an arrangement to accommodate a more substantial group with larger sofas and chaises surrounding a massive polished low wooden table.

Around the room were smaller clusters of tables and leather club chairs tucked into alcoves for smaller gatherings or intimate conversations. 

It was at one these clusters that he found you, tucked in a quiet corner near the fireplace.

In the most relaxed arrangement Harry allowed himself while still on Kingsman property, he had his coat draped over his arm. Dressed in his shirtsleeves, tie and shoulder holster, tumbler in hand, he approached you, also with a pleasant but small smile. Pleased that you were the one that was sharing this space with him.

You were dressed quite differently from how Harry first remembered you. Well, your clothes hadn’t been memorable, but you had been. Since you were not a knighted agent, they weren’t quite sure how to classify you yet, you took the freedom to dress beyond the Kingsman uniform. Though always appropriate and surprisingly on brand, you were not quite regulation. If you were out in the field, you were in tactical, or the women’s version of the kingsman suits. You even had the shop tailor some custom pieces so you could have more diversity. When you were at Kingsman HQ or at the shop in support, you dressed appropriately, but in your own style. There were handfuls of fashionable men at Kingsman. You couldn’t turn around and not run into a gentleman turned out in Kingsman’s finest. But an attractive, stylish woman was a rarer sight. Even Harry noticed the heads that turned when you walked by.

Walking toward you, Harry took the time to observe your appearance, he told himself as spies always did out of habit. Today, you remained on the property. Without the need for being in the field, this would be your most proper look. You were dressed in a way that was very elegant, but sexy at the same time. Or, perhaps it wasn’t supposed to look sexy. Harry set that observation aside. Not the time nor the place, he thought to himself.

You were dressed in a slim, knee length pencil skirt in a very deep shade of oxblood red. It was velvet he noted when he saw the sheen of the fabric as you shifted your knees in his direction. A matching tailored jacket, that, like him, you had removed and draped over the back of your chair. Topped with a delicate, almost sheer silk blouse the color of sun bleached bone. It had tiny pearl buttons down the front, and lace detailing at the collar, cuffs and similar detailing along the button placket. A narrow dark brown leather belt circled your waist with a gold clasp rather than a prong buckle.  Dark brown suede court shoes with a tall, but reasonable heel. Your makeup was minimal and natural. You looked like you had just somehow heightened your features, but in no discernible way he could describe.

As Harry got closer, he was able to notice even smaller details. Your beautiful hair, was twisted up and away from your face and secured in some secret way women have where it would stay perfectly in place by means he could never quite see. Your accessories were feminine and understated. Small gold earrings in the shape of teardrops, a simple gold cuff around your wrist, a Kingsman issue watch on the other. A signet ring on your own pinkie. Your nails were trimmed short and clean, either no polish or something bare. A thin gold chain around your neck with a small solid gold version of the Kingsman pendant.

Harry didn’t know what he wanted a woman to look like until he first saw you. The first time, on that first chaotic night, he had the same thought. He could give you a basic description of what you were wearing, but he could describe every feature of your face. The way you looked when you were reflective. The line of your jaw when you were determined.

And then, for the very first time he saw you, dressed, properly, walking down the long marble corridor of the HQ manor, when you had the opportunity to present yourself on your own terms. Harry thought, this is what I want a woman to look like. It wasn’t that you were model beautiful, or that your features were perfect. In London, on the streets, you could see plenty of models. They were beautiful, no doubt, and pleasing to look at, but once you were done, you were able to go about your day without a second thought. 

Your beauty had substance. The fact that Harry knew what your skill set included, to know what you had overcome to be where you were, to be the person you were, made your beauty a real tangible thing, regardless of what you were wearing. Perhaps it was that, whatever you wore, you made it part of you. It wasn’t just a pretty skirt or a flattering blouse, it was the way you wore it that made him notice you. You could have looked completely different, with completely opposite features. Harry would have still have felt the same. And he would still say, this is what I want a woman to look like.

You posessed the capacity to stir his heart. Something that had been quiet and still for a very long time. Even something that Harry thought no longer had the desire to be moved. It was certainly not something he was seeking. He, long ago, had accepted the fact that the life of agent isn’t one that fosters lasting relationships. Relationships were based on communication and he had far too many secrets as a Kingsman.

Harry was beyond the time in his life for these kinds of thoughts. He knew he had been handsome in his youth. He had his fair share of relationships and much more than his fair share of sexual encounters. He was aware that his looks had carried him quite well as he got older and that if he wanted, there were women, very desirable ones, that would be more than willing to engage in a casual relationship. Harry was by no means vanilla. It wasn’t that he was prudish in the least, or one to deny himself physical pleasure. If you were not exactly who you were, then he would have most likely allowed himself to pursue you and enjoyed whatever that relationship had to offer. The crux of it was, that he would not be as attracted to you, or charmed by you if you weren’t exactly who you were. He would not want your as much as he did if you were any different. 

——

Harry set these thoughts aside as he approached you. Even though it was obvious you were alone, Kingsman manners never failed. Never ask a lady directly if she’d like your company. Give her a polite way to refuse without making her say no. She will indicate if your presence if desired.

“Excuse me, miss.” he opened. “Is this seat taken?”

You awarded him with an amused smile. You always enjoyed his little game of manners.

You nodded toward the chair. Please.

Draping his coat on the back of his chair, just as you did, He adjusted his slacks so he could sit down comfortably and gracefully. The club chairs were low and designed to sink back into. Harry took his seat, adjusted a little until he, too, was settled in.

Since both of you were now relatively stuck in your respective positions, where you couldn’t move without significant effort, Harry simply raised his glass in your direction. You followed suit.

You were pleased when he was comfortable enough to sit in silence with you. It was one of the first tells you would look for in asset or mark. Did they have enough self assurance to be silent? Were they uncomfortable, awkward, fidgety? Did they try to fill the silence? Most often, if they lacked confidence, you would notice these tells immediately. One of your favourite activities was to sit in silence.

It was also one of your favourite activities to look at Harry Hart. The fact that he was handsome was no surprise. When you initially started at Kingsman, this was simply an objective observation, like masterful way he handled weaponry. Or the fact that he was right handed.  The more you were partnered in the field, the closer you became, both in proximity and as colleagues, his physical attributes began to affect you in ways that continued to make you increasingly uncomfortable.

You were aware his body was that of a man that you admired and looked up to. Tall, broad shouldered, slim hipped. Strong, driven, powerful. You became aware of all the things that his body could do. You had the opportunity to observe him every time you were in the field, in combat, in action.

But you also began to discern a softness, a gentleness that he could convey when he gathered you up after a surprising blast had knocked you off your feet. Hands that smoothed back your hair from your forehead upon waking up in medical after a particularly dangerous mission. A warm hand on your shoulder as you successfully accomplished a challenging task. 

You were aware that as your mentor, Harry had a responsibility to maintain a professional relationship. But with escalating frequency, you imagined how it would feel to have him pressed up against you, to feel his body, purposeful and confident. 

————

The evening was relaxed. Both of you, without the urgency of an upcoming mission to prepare, took the opportunity to simply rest and unwind. A seldom occasion. Feeling more and more at ease when both of you were together, you allowed yourself a little space to test the waters. When engaging targets, if they seemed comfortable sitting in silence in your company, would they make direct eye contact? You took another small sip of your drink, savoured it for a moment, and swallowed.

Hmmm. You were very curious about HarryHart and you were feeling surprisingly playful. You wanted to try something. Let’s say an experiment in tradecraft. You waited until you caught his eye. Harry seemed amused and matched your eye contact with equal directness. You were pleased that he made eye contact and even more pleased when he maintained it. But he was a spy, after all. Making and maintaining eye contact would be elementary for him.

With a little cheekiness on your part, you raised your glass to your lips again and took a small sip. He did not waver. His eyes even took on a little bit of curious amusement. You held the scotch on your tongue, pulled it to the back of your mouth, rolled the scotch around a little bit longer than necessary, before you swallowed.

Neither of you would look away first. You gave him a half smile, half smirk, crinkled your eyes a bit in amusement. You seemed to be saying. Ok. Your turn.

Harry had never seen your in this kind of playful mood and he suddenly found himself enjoying this little match immensely.

He could more than participate in this game. He, literally, had decades more experience than you. An agent may be able to seduce. But a gentleman agent was a master at the art of seduction. And Harry Hart was the consummate gentleman agent. One did not get to where he was in life without knowing how to pleasure a woman. He was often told he had beautiful and talented hands. That may have been years ago, but those kinds of skills, they stayed with a man.

A quick raise of his brow. Darling, challenge accepted.

Holding your eyes with his, he lowered his glass just enough to where it was in your sight line, but slightly off to the side, at the edge of your peripheral vision. You would still be able to hold eye contact, but would have to make an effort not to glance down at his glass. Especially, when you saw what he was going to do with it.

Harry held your gaze suddenly with an intense focus you were unprepared for. Out of the corner of your eye you saw that he was holding his glass, cupping it in the palm of one hand. He began to simply roll it around gently, as one would while enjoying a proper scotch. He rolled it around harmlessly, in a slow, lazy, rhythmic pattern.

You had to concentrate a little harder not to look away, but you kept his gaze. If you were uncomfortable, you didn’t show it. You hoped your gaze held a similar intensity as Harry’s. His felt, well, piercing, for lack of a more appropriate word.

This was certainly turning out to be an interesting evening, Harry thought. You seemed determined to stick this through. He would be required to dial his technique up a notch. He nested the heavy base in the center of his palm and let it rest there for awhile without moving. Then, once again, he started rolling the glass in his hand, not to stir the liquid, but to feel the surface of glass itself. He bounced the glass, lightly, as if testing the weight and feeling the heaviness.

The movement was subtle, slow, and sensuous. He let his hand explore the texture of the smooth surface. The base of his thumb pressed against the glass in slow, languid circles, sometimes rolling on to the pad of his thumb, sometimes to his finger tip. But he did this as if he were doing it unconsciously, because he was staring at you with a focus and intensity that said you were the only woman on earth, and that he wanted you.

There was truth to the term, the male gaze. It was not looking at something through a man’s eyes, it was seeing into something as a man. There was a reason why they called this particular look penetrating. It was a gaze of desire, a singularly male want and need. If done properly, it was a way to make love to a woman without touching her. It was far beyond physical contact. It wasn’t hard for him to harness his essential masculine energy. Harry had done it for years on countless honey traps in his younger days with the agency.  He hadn’t thrown the full force of himself to seduce in quite awhile and found that he was enjoying a little flex of his muscle.  If desire had a name, at that moment, it would be called Harry Hart. He let his desire roll off of him in waves.

What you didn’t quite understand, was that the game you were playing with him, wasn’t about who could keep eye contact the longest. It was a question of who was going to be seduced and who was going to be the seducer. You were approaching what you thought was a staring contest as a battle of the wills, which was why you were going to fail. Making eye contact may be a test of power and confidence, but that was a quick, brief test. A simple meeting or a darting of the eyes. It was very easy to find out who was going to be able to make and hold contact. However, eye contact for a prolonged period of time, especially between a man and a woman? It became something quite different. It was a game of seduction. It wasn’t a test of power. It was a test of control. Control of two things in this case, the seducer’s own desire, and the desire of the other person. Could the seducer harness his own desire to control the seduced.

You had not faltered yet. He raised to single brow. Would you like me to keep going?

You narrowed your gaze. Please, do.

The expression on his face all but said out loud. “You asked for it.”

Harry saw the flush in your cheeks when you noticed what he was doing with his glass. Your breathing intensified. Your pupils dilated and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

They were very small movements, but very deliberate movements. He cupped the bottom of the glass in one palm, fingers spread as if he were holding up a small tray. Using only his middle finger, the rest of his hand now cupping the base, he began to stroke the center of the glass. Like he was using his finger to say, come here. In very slow, very deliberate, beyond suggestive movements. His other hand simply rested on the top rim of the glass. Gently holding it in place while he moved his bottom hand. He did this without twitching another muscle in his body, as if nothing had changed.

Your eyes widened. Holy fuck, you thought. With very exact and explicit movements of his hands, Harry was not just implying, but overtly demonstrating how he used them to give pleasure to a woman. The shock of seeing him within the frame of something so blatantly sexual, all the while looking at you the entire time? It was intensely arousing.

Harry was not only looking at you, he was positively devouring you with his gaze. You could feel him, his energy in pulses of heat. This wasn’t merely eye contact. This was something unexpected and you were not prepared for it. Harry was suddenly changed, maybe not changed, but different. He was harder, stronger, more demanding. He was more of everything. The polite, honorable, considerate gentleman was still there,  but now he added an aspect of himself that you had never seen or experienced before. The man was still Harry Hart, but it was also as if a part of him had been unleashed, whatever primal energy that was held in check by the handsome suits and the manners and the chivalry, had been released.

You fought to maintain your composure. He knew exactly what he was doing. His hands moved expertly, and with ease. His gaze, became even more intense, if that was even possible.

Harry continued to play and to tease as he held the glass in his palm. You knew where he had his hand. You could feel the exact placement as if it were on your own body. The base of his palm would cup your center, with the rest of his fingers spreading between your legs. His middle finger was still moving in achingly slow circles, one direction, then slowly moving in the other direction. He curled his finger under, using his knuckle, rolling it in tiny circles. Not even really moving just shifting the pressure moving from one side to the other, from top to bottom.

You saw in his eyes, that he knew, that you were not only being affected by his movements, but you were feeling sensations as if he were touching you directly.

It was the most erotic experience of your life.

Here was this beautiful man, still dressed as properly as ever in his dress shirt and tie, his shoulder holster with his side arm. His perfect hair, his perfect face. With all his dignity and respect, relaxing comfortably back into his chair, his legs spread wide, an ankle crossed over his knee, one elbow resting casually on the arm of his leather chair. Radiating such a profound sexual energy, that without even touching you, had the ability to control your body with only his eyes and the the way he moved a glass in his hand. He was so confident in his movements. His expression said, however brief this moment, that he owned you, that you were his, and he knows that you wants it that way. He can see it all over your face. He can see it in your eyes.

——

Harry wasn’t even close to being done.

He took his other hand, laying his palm over the glass, as if it was resting there. On the other side of the glass, where his thumb fell, he began to roll it around in very explicit, very familiar circles.

He felt himself harden as his own arousal grew. He didn’t try to stop it. Instead of letting it distract him, he channeled that energy through him and into you. Allowing you to witness the physical evidence of his own desire would strengthen his hold. Never underestimate the power of the imagination. You would see it. Your mind would do the rest.

Harry saw your lips part, even the slightest bit. Your chest rising and falling under your ladylike blouse as your breath quickened. Your knees pressed tightly together. He watched your face very, very carefully and intently, watching the subtle changes in your expressions as he shifted the movements of his hands, knowing that you were feeling his movements in your body. Every time your brow would furrow, or you took a sharp intake of breath, or would clench your pretty hands, as he moved his own, he knew you were feeling pleasure. And that he was the source of that pleasure.

Harry knew that there were men who were turned on by violence. For him, however, there was nothing more erotic than the sight of a woman experiencing the pleasure that you were giving her. So, he was especially aroused when he was free to look at the nuances of your face and body freely and openly. Your pleasure had reached a constant as you moved almost imperceptibly to the consistent rhythm of his hand.

And you still did not drop your gaze. Harry knew, now that you were fully aroused, you would not break eye contact. You probably couldn’t at this point if you tried. For, half of your pleasure was a result of seeing the man who was controlling your pleasure. And seeing that you pleased him, that he was also sexually aroused, intensified your pleasure. And you wanted to offer that to him, very willingly. Harry was finding out much about you in these few moments. Things that he wasn’t even sure you knew about yourself. Very few women would have been comfortable enough with their sexuality to be purely on the receiving end of pleasure. In the intimacy of their own bedroom in a committed relationship. Let alone in an extremely public and therefore vulnerable way. With a man who may be, slightly off limits. Which, in fact, probably added to your pleasure.

To see just how much you were under his thumb, pun aside, Harry paused for a moment. He kept his hand, his fingers in the exact same place. He just stilled. And watched you. After a few moments he could see the tiniest furrow of your brow. When he continued to remain still, he saw the movement he waiting for. You probably didn’t even know you had made it. It was the slightest lifting and rolling of your hips. He didn’t realize he could be more turned on, but he felt himself grow harder. It was the motion every woman made, in his experience, when they wanted more, when they were asking for more, and when they were begging for more.  The ability to actively listen and comprehend another person was the most profound influencing tactic one could hone in communication, and therefore seduction.  Which is exactly what he was doing. In a very non verbal, very physical way.

Harry began his movements again, with more intensity and purpose. He let his finger, for the first time, slide all the way up the side of the glass, even letting it lift with the upward movement of his palm. He saw your body move as if you were receiving him.

He knew you were experiencing waves of intense pleasure. He could tell you wanted to close your eyes and tip your head back. As Harry witnessed your need, he went in for his last movements. His palm pressing up into the base of the glass, his thumb rolling in small firm circles and his entire middle finger along the entire length of the glass, the tip almost reaching the top of the rim.  As if his finger were deep inside you, he made deliberate strokes while pressing into the glass, slow, but then gradually increasing in speed and pressure.

Harry knew, that you knew, the exact two parts he was pleasuring.

You lips parted, your breathing grew heavier. You had no idea what was going to happen next, all you felt were waves of pleasure. The only thing you could concentrate on was not losing eye contact with the man in front of you.

Harry knew at this point, he had let what was a silly, flirtatious game, go too far. He also knew this began as a challenge, and Harry Hart was never one to back down from a challenge. He also knew that he never purposely lost a game. If it took climaxing for you to break eye contact, then so be it.

Harry also knew he was mesmerized by the sight of you. He didn’t know if he could stop. But it didn’t matter because he didn’t want to. This moment had to hit the list of the top most erotic experiences of his life. Both fully clothed, siting in separate chairs, more than six feet apart. With only eye contact between you. He didn’t know if he’d experienced something more intensely arousing, knowing that he was the one you were feeling when you made yourself come.

Harry began to see the tell tale tremors, the quickening breath, your lips parting with cries that you desperately wanted to make that you would not let yourself, and still, you were trying to hold on. Psychologically you were making it harder for yourself, denying your own release would only make it that much more physically intense when you had to give in.

It was at that moment, that a door banged within the manor and someone appeared at the large entrance of the club room.

“Harry. That you?”

Damn it. It was Eggsy.

“Just headin’ out.” Eggsy called over. “What’s up? Looks like you two’re having a staring contest. Whose winning?”

“It’s a tie” Harry replied.

Eggsy held up his hand in a quick wave and left.

Harry gave you a quick glance, where you were still trying to maintain eye contact, wait no, you were just staring into the space behind him, concentrating on something he could not see.

——

You knew you had to stop staring at Harry, so you looked past his shoulder into the empty space behind him. At this point, even the sight of him might set you off. You were still right at the cusp of your climax and your body was still so aroused you were afraid that any movement could push your over the edge. You wanted to tell Harry to leave, but you couldn’t think of a way without embarrassing or offending one or both of you. All you could do at the moment was sit quietly. So that’s what you did. You were waiting for your body to catch up with the rest of you and settle down. Harry was waiting patiently until you were ready to move or speak.

After a bit of time, you glanced over at him, made sure it was safe. It was, and you began to relax a little, though your body still felt like a flame that was ready to ignite with any hint of friction. You just needed to stay still for awhile.

You saw Harry watching you, his face both concerned and amused.

He broke the silence.

 “And that, my darling,” Harry said pointedly. “Is how one create’s an effective honey trap.”

In an attempt to further diffuse the situation, he wanted to be frank and direct with you and not to brush what just happened under the rug. That would be awkward for both of you.  He did not want you to feel embarrassed or ashamed or uncomfortable with him or what had happened. The best way was to be as blunt as possible. He pushed down on his palms and rose out of his chair with minimal effort.

“My dear, I’ve been in the spy business for over 30 years. One does not get this far without knowing how to pleasure a woman.”

He winked at you.

“Not to worry, you’ll get there.”

Harry reached behind him for his coat, draped it over his arm, but not before you clearly noticed his own erection. Which before had just been a suggestion in the shadows. He’s hard.

The thought made you flame all over again.

“I need to take my leave. Will you be alright, here?”

All you could do is nod. You didn’t trust your voice yet.

Always the gentleman, he leaned over and brushed his lips against the top of your hair.

“Thank you for the lovely evening.”

You still couldn’t look directly at him so you turned your head slightly to the side and gave him a small nod. With a quick squeeze of your arm, you heard his departing footsteps. He was heading to the tunnels. He was going back into the city, He wouldn’t be staying at he manor. You didn’t know if you were glad or disappointed.

You were grateful to him for providing at least a somewhat graceful way to exit the situation, referring to the seduction technique that ALL agents are trained in. Harry was letting you chalk it up to a learning experience.

You opened your mouth. Nothing came out. You tried again.

“Fuck.”

It was the first word that you had said all evening.

——

“Fuck.”

Harry thought as he boarded the train back into the city. He had actually planned on staying at the manor, but with what just happened with you, he wasn’t sure if that would be the best course of action. It took all of his self control to remove himself from any temptation by leaving the place entirely. Making it impossible for him to act in a way that was inappropriate. Not that what had just happened would qualify as appropriate. At least it had the veil of a lesson on seduction. He wasn’t sure it would convince judges, but he found it a weak, but passable excuse.

No, the problem for the moment was that all Harry could see was your face as he pleasured you. How your lips parted, your breasts underneath your blouse, the flush of your cheeks. He wanted to hear what your cries would’ve sounded like. He wanted to be the one to make you cry out. His sex drive, always healthy, may have had a prolonged dormant period in recent times. But now it was raging like a fire that he unleashed and now he couldn’t put out. By letting the full force of it out this evening, it was fully awake and needed something to do. Harry had feared that if he had stayed at the manor even a moment longer, he wouldn’t have been able to help himself and would’ve taken you and had you right there.

If he could do that to you with his eyes and just the suggestion of his hands, he couldn’t imaging what it would be like pleasuring you with his entire body. Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he took care of himself, and when he did, he would allow himself the sight of your trembling, responsive, body underneath his own as he gave you the pleasure he knew you so desperately wanted, joined together as he felt your body shudder around him when you climaxed, feeling his own release as he heard you cry out his name in pleasure.

[therenlover]

Brutal (A Demon!Daniel Bruhl x Starlet!Reader Ficlet)

(So, this is the first little ficlet in my Sour series, which can be found HERE! I hope you enjoy it! Also, enjoy blurry Checo, because he’s who @creme-bruhlee and I imagine as demon!Daniel)

“And I'm so tired that I might / Quit my job, start a new life / And they'd all be so disappointed / 'Cause who am I if not exploited?”

Synopsis: A crime of passion accidentally summons a handsome demon who offers to make your deepest desires come true... for a price, of course. 

Rating; M (16+)

Warnings: Vague Allusions to Past Dubcon/Noncon, Explicit Language, Implied Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Murder, Making A Deal With A Demon, Maybe A Tiny Bit Of Monsterfucking???? If You Squint??? Not Really Though

Word Count: 1500~

-------

“What is it that you desire?”

The man- no, creature- before you was shrouded in the darkest corner of your dressing room, perched languidly upon the chaise lounge that had been oh so kindly included in the rider of your contract by whatever filthy fucker decided they wanted to have you this time. He didn’t matter now, though. No, not now that his brains were splattered against the carpet. The only thing that mattered anymore was the creature in the corner. 

Even in the darkness, you could see its razor-sharp teeth glinting in the low light. 

Trembling with unused adrenaline, you smiled back at it, hands still covered in blood. “I’m not answering that until you answer a few questions of my own,” 

Surprisingly, the thing seemed to lean further back into its plush seat as it nodded, long pointed tail undulating slowly, like a python preparing to strike. “Very well. It makes no difference to me how long you draw out our little deal,” slowly, the thing chuckled, “Besides, for you, pretty one, I’d wait all the time in the world,” 

You groaned at his exaggerated wink. 

Still, it was too late to turn back now. With the blood on your hands for the death of the man at your feet, both physically and metaphorically, there was nowhere to go but forward. Maybe making a deal with the devil wasn’t your original plan, but it sure as hell was better than prison. With a sigh, you sat down heavily into your high-backed makeup chair. 

“So I’m assuming you’re a demon?”

The creature in the corner made some sort of deep, proud noise in its chest as its two, shadowy hands came up to stroke its curved horns, much like a goat’s, with a certain puff-chested reverence. Even while beholding it in that darkness, its features shrouded in black, there was an allure to the strange monster, a strange, sick draw. You were helpless to whatever had appeared before you and all its powers. Somehow, though, you had seemed to intrigue it despite your comparative weakness. 

“I go by many names, but demon is one of them,” it purred, red eyes glinting with something more than bloodlust, “I prefer others,”

“What should I call you then?”

“Whatever you please,”

You scoffed. “You said you had many names, why can’t you tell me even one?”

It huffed a long sigh, and if you didn’t know better, you would’ve said that you saw smoke erupt from where its nostrils should be. 

That being said, it didn’t seem like the thing was frustrated. If anything, the creature seemed amused. From its words, you could only assume it had been hundreds of years since it had last entertained itself on the human realm. You could only hope your rage was entertaining enough to keep any of its less desirable emotions at bay. 

“Names have power, Schatz. I can’t just go around telling everybody who I am,” it’s accent felt thicker as it leaned back, “but I suppose, if you and I were to make a deal, that I could allow you to name me something. Or I could choose one for you,”

“What if I didn’t make deal with you?” you challenged the creature with a smirk. 

It hummed low in its chest as it pondered your question. “Now that would be no fun,” 

“For me or for you?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Time was getting short now, with the clock on the wall ticking down the minutes until someone would arrive at your dressing room door to lead you out towards the set where the rest of the cast and crew were waiting. If they found you with the body it was over. Things with the demon needed to be resolved, and they needed to be resolved fast. 

Thankfully, it didn’t toy with you any more than you expected it to. 

“For both of us,” it replied, tail flicking almost excitedly, “I can’t touch you if we don’t make a deal, for better or for worse, and even then your soul wouldn’t be mine to toy with until the deal was complete. That being said, you’re in a pretty sticky situation. I think you need me just about as much as I need you, so I’ll ask again; What do you desire?”

You swallowed thickly. 

On one hand, you couldn’t imagine things would end up very pleasantly for you once the dark shadow who had staked its claim on that awful chaise lounge finally did have a chance to get its clawed hands on your soul. On the other hand, though, you had nothing left to lose. Fame, especially so young, always came at a price. You would wager to guess that even if your soul hadn’t been claimed by a demon, that it had already been stolen away by the producers and directors that pulled the strings of your life like you were some obedient little puppet dancing for an audience who wanted to devour you whole. 

In the end, an eternity in Hell with whatever was grinning at you like the Cheshire cat from the shadows might even be preferable to the horrors you’d already seen. 

Slowly, you answered its question. 

“I want to make every single person who ever took advantage of me suffer the same pain they put me through,” 

The creature’s face split into a toothy smile. 

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” 

Moving like smoke on water, it stood from its place on the chaise lounge, morphing in shape and size as it approached and held out it’s newly human-shaped hand to you. In his new form, at least, you assumed it was a he, the creature was handsome, all dark eyes and slick hair. He looked young, and somehow, even with his new, thin lips and human teeth, he retained his signature smile. You took his hand and shook it without hesitation.

Even with your heart beating almost out of your chest, you had to admit that, with a demon at your side, you felt more empowered than you ever had before. 

He noticed. 

“I am known to my kin as Asmodeus,” he cooed, long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he drew near to you. You couldn’t bring yourself to mind, “You, though, my sweetest pet, may call me Daniel,” 

Daniel. 

Somehow, even after you had seen the faintest traces of his beastly form, you had to admit that the name suited him. Maybe not as well as Asmodeus, but it worked well enough. You looked up at him through lidded eyes. “I’m-”

Before you could answer, he pressed a finger to your rouged lips. 

“I know everything about you sweetling, no need for introductions. There is one last thing we need to do to seal the deal, though,” 

A pit formed in your stomach as you gulped, caught in Daniel’s entrancing gaze. You had to assume there was some sort of magic to it, a spell that kept you trapped for all long as he could stare down into your eyes. Still, it would do you no good to fight it. Besides, the pangs that were making their way through your whole being weren’t fear. 

Oh no, they were something much worse. 

“What do we need to do?” You asked, wetting your lips with your tongue. 

Daniel replied with a sly smile and a soft chuckle. “I need you to kiss me, of course,” 

Who were you to disagree with the expert?

With all the strength and bravery you could muster, you surged up and met Daniel’s lips with your own, melting into the kiss as he quickly took over, skilled tongue darting into your mouth to claim it as his own. He bit hard on your lip, hard enough to draw blood, but you couldn’t bring yourself to mind, not when your hands were busy exploring up under his shirt and finding purchase on the firm muscles that waited below. 

To be fair, he wasn’t exactly keeping his hands to himself either.

Sooner than you would have liked, though, Daniel was pulling his lips away from yours. It was just a fraction of an inch, your swollen mouths still connected by a string of saliva tinted a dark red with your blood, but you were already keening from the loss of him the second you caught your breath. The sound pleased him. 

“What are we to do first, sweetling?” he purred, letting his nails run gently against the soft skin of your waist, “I’m at your command,” His breath was hot against your fact, and he smelled like gun smoke. 

It drove you wild. 

You snuck a look at the clock before turning back to him, eyes aflame. “In about ten minutes we’ll need to have the mess in here cleaned up with any evidence gone, but before we do that, I want you- no, I need you to fuck me. Can you make that happen?”

Daniel beamed. 

“Oh, sweet girl, anything is possible with me at your side,” As he whipped you around to push you against the chaise lounge, licking his lips, he couldn’t help but add, “I believe this is the beginning of a very beneficial partnership,” 

And against all odds, as you hooked a leg up around his waist and pulled him in for another searing kiss, you had to agree.

--------

a/n: WOW WOW WOW THAT WAS GARBAGE BUT I LOVED IT. I finished season 5 of Lucifer yesterday, so I was in the mood for some demonic shit. I hope it was at least semi-enjoyable despite being straight up shitty writing lol. 

Taglist: @tatestripedsweater , @elaineygrace , @multiyfandomgirl40 ,  @lovelymischief , @be-cautious-around-bri 

[thiswasinevitableid]

For the Meet Ugly Prompts-38, NSFW Danbrey?

Here you go! Note: there are mentions of blood in this.

38: overhear you ordering your coffee in a coffee shop and I’m trying to place your voice when I realize that you’re the phone sex operator I’ve been calling on and off for the last few months but the realization startles me so much that I accidentally spill my drink on you and you’re pissed

“One spiced mocha, one oatmilk latte!”

Aubrey reaches for her mocha just as a painfully cute blonde in overalls grabs the latte.

“Oh, excuse me” the blonde calls over the counter, “could I get a lid, it looks like you’re all out at the station. Thanks, you’re the best.” She smiles at the teenager who hands he the lid while Aubrey tries to figure out where she’s heard “thanks, you’re the best” said that exact way before.

Oh shit. Oh shit.

She’s heard that voice every Tuesday and Friday when she calls LoveBites, the premiere service for people who really like vampires. Really, really, like vampires.

Honeysuckle, as the woman on the other end of the line calls herself, probably isn’t a vampire. Aubrey figures most of the people who work that line are just very good at pretending to be fictional monsters. She is, however, incredibly good at getting Aubrey to cum with vivid descriptions of where she’s going to sink her teeth.

“AH! Hey, watch what you’re doing.”

Aubrey snaps back to the coffee shop to discover her drink is now all over Honeysuckles shoes.

“Ohmygod, I’m, I’m so sorry.” She grabs a fistful of napkins, drops down to clean the mess of coffee and chocolate syrup from the floor. She reaches to help clean off the other woman's shoes only for her to wave her away.

“It’s fine, I got itshit” she glares as Aubrey, in her attempt to get out of her space, stands too quickly, bumping her head into Honeysuckle’s cup and sending it all over both of them.

Okay, she can totally salvage this. Right?

----------------------------------------------

“...then I just ran away.”

Duck laughs so hard on the other end of the phone that he startles Dr. Harris Bonkers.

“Oh come on, like you’ve never done something embarrassing in front of someone cute.”

“Dunno, you might have just beaten my ‘six Freudian slips in a row trying to ask ‘Dird how his weekend was.’”

“Ugggggggggggggggh.”

“It’s okay, Lady Flame” he manages to sound genuinely sympathetic through his giggles, “lots of cute folks out in the world who you ain’t spilled two cups of coffee on.”

“Yeah.” She checks the neon orange clock on the wall, “I gotta go practice my tricks for this weekend. Thanks for listening to me whine.”

“Any time, Aubrey. See you at the show.”

She gets through two tricks, including the one where Dr. Harris Bonkers disappears from a box, but she can’t focus. It’s not nerves; instead, she feels like if she got off just once, she’d stop feeling so tense and be able to run through the rest of her act without issues.

It’d be a very bad idea to call LoveBites when she spilled a drink on her favorite operator. She doesn’t feel like talking someone new through her preferences, and she knows with Honeysuckle she’s guaranteed to get off, which wasn’t always the case with previous operators. Besides, the length of her calls must be enough to pay for a replacement drink.

She grabs her phone and dials. Soon a familiar voice purrs down the line.

“Hi, Aubrey. How’s my favorite human tonight?”

“Good?”

“You don’t sound so sure about that, fireblossom.” It’s a new pet name; ever since she mentioned her stage name, Honeysuckle likes to give her ones woven through with flames.

“I, um, I'm fine?”

“Did something happen today, hot stuff?”

“Uhhhhh. Um. I, uh, I made a fool of myself in a coffee shop. I, um, I spilled my drink on a cute girl. Also hers.”

Honeysuckle goes quiet.

“I, um, I think the person I spilled them on was you.”

“..............spiced mocha?”

“Yeeeeah” Aubrey curls inwards, trying to cringe away from her phone, “I’m really sorry about your shoes. And your overalls. And your drink. I, um, I wasn’t gonna mention it but it feels, like, weird not to and I really was going to offer to replace your coffee except I was kinda worried I’d somehow spill that too. I’m, I’m sorry. I just really like talking with you.” She smiles shyly, “you’re my favorite vampire.”

Dead air, then “you really want to make it up to me with another drink?”

“Yes!” Aubrey sits up, hopeful.

“Even if the drink isn’t coffee?”

“Sure it, it can be whatever you want.”

A hungry purr that makes Aubrey reach for her trusty vibrating wand, “In that case, don’t go anywhere.”

“What? But you’re-”

The line goes dead. Aubrey stares at it, frowning. What is she supposed to do now? Did they get disconnected accidentally? Should she just call back?

She shoves the toy back in the drawer, paces back and forth between the kitchen counter and the table where her cards and flashpaper are strewn about, unsure whether she should make dinner, practice, try to get off, or just give up on everything and go to bed.

From his hutch in the corner, Dr. Harris Bonkers honks, thumps his feet in alarm, then turns his bugged-out eyes on Aubrey and thumps again as if to say, “what the fuck, why aren’t you heeding my warning?”

“Aww, it’s okay buddy. Is that cat on the fire escape again?” She looks out the window, finds nothing but some mist. Mist that’s hovering on her tiny balcony and no one elses. She blinks.

Honeysuckle is standing on the other side of the glass; she’s wearing a loose green tank top and grey yoga pants, golden hair taking on the tint of the nearby streetlights. She gives a demure wave as Aubrey throws the back door open.

“Holy fuck I thought the vampire thing was just, like, a gimmick.”

A shrug, “There’s more humans than vampires working the line, but some of us are the real deal. I know a few vampires who do it because it lets them work nights and keep an actually nocturnal schedule. But some of us do it as a side job and go out during the day. Which means we see cute girls in coffee shops who we think we might ask out who then spill drinks on us.”

“Aw beans. Wait, were you checking me out for real.”

“Uh huh. You must have been doing something super interesting on your phone to not notice.”

Aubrey resolves to delete Candy Crush immediately.

“Um, so, not that I’m not happy to see you again, but like how did you find my house?”

“We can trace numbers on our end. It’s a security thing; back when the line started some hunters kept trying to use it to go after vampires, so we needed to know where calls were coming from.”

“Blegh, that sucks.”

“Yeah, not my favorite.” She flutters her eyelashes, “any chance I could come in?”

“Absolutely, uh, here” she holds the door--which has no risk of closing without a lot of force--so the vampire can step into the apartment.

“Do I, um, should I still just call you what I always have?”

Golden eyes look her up and down hungrily, “Dani is fine.” Then she squeaks, “ooooh, hi there little guy, can I say hi? Oop, okay, some other time.” Dani smiles as the rabbit ducks into his covered box, “animals can be kind of skittish around me at first. Which makes sense.” When she turns to look at Aubrey, her fangs are visible.

“Hooboy that’s, that’s, uh-”

Dani steps back, “I can back off. I just, um, I thought since we’re both into each other and you were, um, already in the mood for some lovebites maybe we could -”

“NoItotallywantto!” Aubrey grabs her hand, pulling her towards the bedroom, “sorry, the fangs are apparently an insta-horny button in my brain.”

“Good to know” Dani spins her by her shoulders and pushes her back onto the bed, fangs now on full display, “take your clothes off, fireblossom.”

Aubrey thanks herself from two hours ago for changing into her pajamas so she doesn’t have much to rid herself of. When she gets her shirt off, Dani is down to her underwear, green boyshorts showing off her legs and completely distracting Aubrey from any unwelcome self-consciousness.

“Mmmmmm” Dani crawls onto the bed with her, “I thought you were cute before but fuck, you look incredible like this.”

“Thanks” Aubrey’s breath catches as Dani bumps their noses together, “can, can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

She raises up on her elbows, mapping Dani’s mouth with her own. Aubrey’s kissed plenty of people in her life, and there have only been a few where the gesture felt like coming home, like she was slotting against a body that was meant to be with hers. All of those pale in comparison to the way Dani’s body seems to meld with hers. She gasps when the vampire cups her right breast, teasing the nipple with her thumb as she eases Aubrey all the way down. Her other hand finds her face, traces from there to the base of her neck, touches moving from light to sharp as she curves her nails down her skin.

When the fangs scrape her sternum she moans. Dani snickers against her, kisses and nuzzles her way down her chest, sighing when Aubrey threads her fingers into her hair.

“So, my pretty snack, what were you going to ask me for when you called?”

“I, I was kinda hoping we’d talk about you eating me out.”

A kiss above her belly button, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

“OhgoodOH, ohfuck” she opens her legs wider as Dani dips her head between them, “ahhhn, please, a little higher, ohfuck, god.” Her hips twitch as Dani sucks her clit. There’s a muffled laugh as two fingers tease her cunt.

“Wow, you really do like the fangs.”

“I mean yeah, but that’s more because you’re really hotOH, ohyesfuckthat’sgood.” She moans as Dani presses two fingers in, stroking and rubbing in time with the vampire’s increasingly wanton groans.

“Fuck, Aubrey, that’s it, you look so pretty like this, be a good girl and cum for me.”

“Trying” Aubrey squeaks as Dani laves her tongue across her clit and curls her fingers inside her, “fuck, right there, yeah, ohyes, that, just like that.” She squeezes her eyes shut, clinging to Dani’s head and to the hand gripping her thigh. When she cums it’s intense enough that she’s terrified she’s going to kick Dani accidentally, but the vampire simply holds her thighs down, lapping at her until her moans die down.

“Fireblossom?”

“Uh huh?”

“You still owe me a drink. Whatever I want, remember?”

“Yeah? Oh, oh fuck yeah.” She squirms in excitement as Dani drops to the floor and pulls Aubrey towards her until she’s able to hook her knees over her shoulders.

Dani pushes stray hairs from her face, “If you start feeling lightheaded, tell me okay?”

Aubrey gives a thumbs up, winces at how dorky it is, then giggles when Dani cranes forward to kiss it.

The vampire kisses a line from her right knee to her inner thigh, sighing loudly when she noses a certain patch of skin.

“Perfect.”

Fangs sink into her skin and Aubrey clamps her hands over her mouth to avoid waking the neighbors. It’s a sharp, precise pain, flooding her body with the urge to lay back and let Dani take her fill. Then the teeth retreat and Dani’s tongue takes their place, licking the red rivulets and moaning as she sucks at the punctured skin.

“Such a perfect snack.” Dani looks up at her, heavy-lidded and scarlet-mouthed.

“Dani” Aubrey reaches for her, not sure what she’s even asking for.

The vampire takes her hand, rubs it against her cheek, “Does it still feel okay?”

“It feels so good.”

Dani smiles, turns her head to pierce the left thigh, Aubrey moaning weakly as she drinks from her. The moan is echoed, and when she manages to lift her head she sees Dani’s hand is not between her own legs.

“Oh god that’s hot.”

The vampire grins at her, “I get dinner, you get a show. It’s perfect.”

Aubrey watches her lick the bites until they cease bleeding, her moans pitching higher as she fucks herself, getting off on the taste of Aubrey’s blood-tinted skin. Then she tenses, tipping her head back, fangs glinting in the light from the windows, and gasps Aubrey’s name as she cums.

Then a blonde head rests on her knee. Aubrey sits up, Dani’s hair as they catch their breath.

“I, um, I should clean you up. Do you have band-aids?”

“Bathroom.”

Dani stands, cheeks much pinker than before, and returns a minute later with the Pokemon band-aids that Aubrey bought solely for the Charizard ones. She wipes her legs with a warm hand towel, gently pats the bandages into place, stealing giddy glances at Aubrey the entire time.

“You know that fucking ruled, right?” Aubrey rests her head on her shoulder when Dani joins her on the bed.

“Glad you liked it, fireblossom. Can’t believe I’m lucky enough that the hottest human I’ve met in years has a thing for vampires.

“Pretty sure I just have a thing for you. Which, um, I mean this can totally stay casual but, um, do you want to go out sometime?”

Dani nods, leans in for another kiss. She must have borrowed Aubrey’s mouthwash, since she tastes of mint instead of iron.

“I’d love to, Aubrey. But, um, let’s avoid coffee shops for awhile?”

“Good plan.”

[freesiart]

One of us

Loki’s life in Avengers tower is not that unperturbed as it might seem at the beginning.

English isn’t my first language, I apologize if there were any mistakes!

Gif is not mine

He didn’t know what was wrong with him. It must have been those weird midgardian vibes that left him panting at the mere sight of you.

You were average, really. Loki had seen many beautiful women, goddesses even, and still there was something weirdly attractive about you. He didn’t know what exactly it was. Or why did he memorize your every movement, every tilt of your head, every curve of your body.

Also he didn’t know why his heart ached so much when you wouldn’t even spare him a glance. He was a god, after all.

Loki didn’t like his room. It was large and empty, with huge blue windows and no furniture except for a bed and a wardrobe. He didn’t ask for anything else, really, but still his room seemed cold and blank. He preferred a common room: it was warm, cozy, it smelled like coffee. Then again, you spent here most of your time.

You were never an early bird, but your job required you to get up first. Well, if working meant drinking coffee till noon.

When at dawn you walked into the common room yawning, Loki sat up straighter on the couch and clasped his hands awkwardly in his lap. In a very divine way.

“Morning, Loki,” you greeted, yawning and shoving a mug into a coffee machine. You almost missed it.

“Good morning, Y/N,” Loki replied, trying to keep his voice at ease.

“Would you like some coffee?” you asked, pressing a button on a machine. “Black like your soul?” you suggested mockingly.

Loki swallowed. He did not expect your participation; truth to be told, he didn’t expect you to be friendly with him at all.

He forced out a smile.

“Actually, I like it with milk,” he corrected. You grinned and pulled a bag out of a fridge.

"Is Mr. Stark awake yet?" you asked. Catching his questioning glance, you explained, “Vision told me that you spent a whole night here. And the night before.”

Loki frowned.

“I haven't seen Stark,” he replied rudely. “I'm not his keeper.”

You said nothing and pushed a mug of coffee towards him. A bit harshly.

Loki's heart skipped a bit.

He always felt a strange tension when he was with you, as if he was afraid to ruin everything with an accidental phrase or gesture.

That’s what he did right now, apparently.

“I ... I apologize,” he quickly said. “That was undeservedly rude.”

You silently poured yourself some coffee and sat down next to him. You were separated only by a bar counter.

You twirled a mug in your fingers. It was your favorite, handmade, with blue flowers on the sides. You raised a mug to your lips, and Loki looked away. His heart was beating wildly.

“I told Mr. Stark that your room is too empty a long time ago,” you finally said, and typed something on the touchpad on your wrist. “I'll order furniture. Any requests?”

Loki bit his tongue so as not to blur out anything obscene.

“No need. I prefer it here... if I’m not a bother,” he quickly added.

“Not at all, but...” You fell silent, choosing your words. Loki noticed that when you was thinking, your nostrils fluttered slightly. It was very cute. “I think everyone needs personal space. Sometimes, at least.”

Loki took a sip of coffee - great coffee. He didn't understand why you were so kind to him. You were the only one who was, besides Thor.

“In that case, furnish to your liking,” he said, grinning.

You smiled back at him, in such a clean and light way that his chest tightened. Odin, he didn't even deserve to be near you.

“Okay! I’ll do my best.” You looked at the touchpad again and frowned, emptying the mug in one gulp. “Damn it! I'm late for the aircraft detour.”

You grabbed a jacket from the chair and jumped up. Loki stood up, too.

“Can I go with you?” he asked, trying not to show his nervousness. You raised your eyebrows in surprise as you buttoned your jacket, and he added: “It's just I’m bored. I thought I'd keep you company.”

“Of course, let's go.” You touched him on the shoulder, and he shuddered, as if from an electric shock. Quickly recovering himself, he caught up with you, still feeling the pleasant electric warmth in his hand.

***

The walk took twice as long as usual.

Loki could talk to you forever. You were smart, funny, interesting, and you didn't make him feel guilty or left out. He felt like you did not hold a grudge against him at all.

This conversation was the best thing that has happened to Loki in many years.

Laughing and bantering playfully, you finally returned to the common room. Which was full of people.

Avengers assemble, Loki thought sourly.

He stopped at the entrance and leaned against the doorframe. You went to the counter, pushed Natasha out and started pouring fresh coffee for everyone.

There was an awkward silence. You pretended to be passionate about a coffee machine, Loki did the same about his nails.

When you put a mug in front of Tony with a smile, he coughed.

“Y/N,” he began. “You... why were you with him?”

Either you were really surprised, or you portrayed it so skillfully that even Loki did not guess.

“What are you talking about?” you asked as you handed mugs to Steve and Nat. “We were on a detour. As you asked. No big deal.”

“Yes, you are great, I adore you, and the coffee is great as always. But he...” Tony jabbed a finger at Loki. He rolled his eyes. “Why was he with you?”

You shrugged and leaned your back against the counter, drying your hands with a towel. Nat and Steve looked at you with sympathy.

“I have no idea why I haven't kicked him out yet,” Stark muttered and sipped his coffee. “Do not ever come near her again, do you understand?”

Pure, unmuffled hatred spilled into Loki's chest. What right does he have to prohibit communicating with you? The only thing that has kept him in the Avengers tower so far?

But before he could open his mouth, you retorted:

“You are my boss, not my father. I'll hang out with whoever I want, Mr. Stark.”

“Tony, really, this is not...” - Natasha began, but Stark interrupted her:

“As long as you work here, you will do as I tell you, Y/N. And I forbid you to communicate with that... with him. Maybe you were just a child in 2012, but I remember very well what he is capable of.”

“Is that so?” you asked coldly and met Stark's gaze without blinking. “Then I quit.”

“What?” all those present exclaimed in chorus. Loki felt something rip inside of him. To the anger was added a sharp, tormenting longing.

"Kid, I ..." Tony rubbed his face and closed his eyes for a moment. “Sorry. I shouldn't have put my authority on you. You are pretty capable of making decisions, and I trust them.” He looked up at Loki. There was a clear threat in his gaze. “It’s him I don’t trust.”

Your face softened, and you covered Tony's hand with yours. Steve breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Don't worry,” you said calmly and smiled at Stark, then looked at Loki, and the smile widened. “I know what I'm doing.”

Well, that's good, Loki thought. That makes one of us.