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#Inked Persuasion
fairydrowning · 1 year
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Jane Austen books are not just ordinary books for me. Her books are emotions and everything to me.
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starlight-and-ink · 1 year
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Tiny classics haul
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monomorphilogical · 8 months
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Wrestle the devil
He sways with the raise of his voice when he steps into my space with hands spiderwebbing my face, and he sings it like praise but I know better when he says “baby why'd you wanna leave this place?” so I just wait for the misplaced embrace to erase any trace of his fatal traits. 
Jekyll to his Hyde, tired of being tied to his side as he smiles wide with pride as if I’m already his bride, tired of being terrified as we ride wild through the countryside while I swear I could have died, and he sighed at me all unkind, tired of the night where I cried like a child ‘cause he lied and denied.
Once I was so strong willed, girl who’d never feared and girl so fulfilled, and then he appeared and had me killed, with them skilled hands, voice that sinned from a mouth that always grinned until I was left dimmed and thinned, suddenly he’d cleared all of me that I’d built.
He’s got me on a steep slope and I try not to lose hope sighing "God, I’m stuck with his arms around me like rope and too broke to try and provoke" and then God spoke "there’s several ways to wrestle the devil" so I didn’t settle for peril and imagined I levelled the metal barrel to his vessel.
If I wasn’t so damn naive I'd like to believe I would’ve never been deceived by the thief that won’t let me leave, unease in the fall of my knees when I’m begging please while all that he sees is the tease of my pleas, girl to squeeze until she agrees just trying to appease to some sleaze.
But he always misread the dread and instead I bled in bed when he spread my legs, and now I feel sick in the head with only a shred left of what I’d shared, alleged he’d been misled and maybe I left some things unsaid but he still pled and went ahead.
So the time has arrived for the bad guy to die, while everyone turns a blind eye, mine are dry, I won’t cry and I won’t try to pacify the high and mighty line of his mouth gone wry, saying my goodbye with a wide smile, shooting my first bull’s eye.
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his-eternal-death · 2 years
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Jane Austens' Pride and Prejudice
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souldustinverse · 6 months
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"For the story-teller, besides his indescribable zest for facts, must tell his story craftily, without undue stress or excitement, or we shall swallow it whole and jumble the parts together; he must let us stop, give us time to think and look about us, yet always be persuading us to move on."
~Virginia Woolf, The Common Reader
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Captain Frederick Wentworth's letter to Anne Elliott 🍒💌 I can listen no longer in silence. I must speak to you by such means as are within my reach. You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone for ever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it, eight years and a half ago. Dare not say that man forgets sooner than woman, that his love has an earlier death. I have loved none but you. Unjust I may have been, weak and resentful I have been, but never inconstant. You alone have brought me to Bath. For you alone, I think and plan. Have you not seen this? Can you fail to have understood my wishes? I had not waited even these ten days, could I have read your feelings, as I think you must have penetrated mine. I can hardly write. I am every instant hearing something which overpowers me. You sink your voice, but I can distinguish the tones of that voice when they would be lost on others. Too good, too excellent creature! You do us justice, indeed. You do believe that there is true attachment and constancy among men. Believe it to be most fervent, most undeviating, in F. W. I must go, uncertain of my fate; but I shall return hither, or follow your party, as soon as possible. A word, a look, will be enough to decide whether I enter your father's house this evening or never.
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credince--writes · 1 year
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Scary Dog
You need a new printer. Sometimes you need to bring negotiation aids.
Useless, shitty little one-shot because I need something else to work on.
Konig x Medic!Reader
Scary dog privileges
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Your pen tapped against the desk you sat at. The smell of sanitizer and printer ink was fresh on your nose.
And, well your skin too.
That goddamn printer, it was always breaking, half of the time you thought it would just catch fire.
It would be easier that way if it just did, then you'd be able to get a new one.
But, alas, you weren't the head bitch of the armed-with-alcohol-pads crew. That lovely position was reserved by Lud.
All the other doctors lovingly refer to him as Dud.
Because that is what he is.
A Dud.
A lazy, selfish, piece of-
You were getting sidetracked.
He would always deny your requests for a new printer, and at this point, it was a hindrance to your job.
The black ink splattered all over you, staining your shirt and skin was proof of that.
You prided yourself in your work,
your efficiency.
Your ability to get the things others couldn't get done, done.
Just so happened that because of this, you got the....
How could you phrase it?
Well,
you got the scary dogs.
They were big, and they looked mean as hell.
But all it took was a threatening glance and they were rolling over showing their soft puppy bellies to her.
Maybe it was the dum dums you brought back from America to give them as a treat for being a good patient.
"That's it!" You slapped your hands on your desk, throwing the muddled papers scatted across the floor as you swiped your arms across the desk.
All of the papers were useless, all thanks to that fucking printer.
Stomping out of your little office, you made your way through the hallway and into the main living space for the team.
"I need a dog!" You yell, catching everyone in the space's attention.
"What?" One of the men ask.
You promptly ignore him, scanning the room and walking- angrily - might you add to find the perfect scary dog.
"A big- scary fucking dog!" You flail your arms in the air.
And your eyes landed on him.
Oh.
He'd do.
He'd do just fine.
"König." You call out, sickly sweet.
He was already staring at you, giving you a cautious glance.
"Did you fight an octopus, doctor?" He asks.
His accent, it was thick.
Just like the rest of him, you suppose.
Music to your ears.
"Would you please accompany me to Doctor Dud?"
He stands, lifting his body to its natural heigh, towering above you.
Perfect.
"Is everything alright?"
"I just need you... to be my big scary dog." You smile.
That smile could make him do horrible things.
"Uh...?" He asks, confused.
"Be intimidating. Be my persuasion, can you do that for me? Please König?" You bat your eyelashes- not too much. A subtle blink or so.
His name falling off your lips.
He had to catch himself for falling forward as he zoned out, looking down at you as you so sweetly begged for his presence.
"Of course." He nodded.
"Great!" You grinned, that evil toothy Cheshire smile.
Pulling him along- not this his long stride took up two of yours- you stood outside of Dud's office. Knocking on the door twice, you pushed the door open and made eye contact with him.
He never really took the time to work with the special teams.
They were a little rowdy for him.
"What do I owe the pleasure....." His voice trailed off, looking up and meeting the narrow, deadly gaze of König.
"Oh, I think the printer is on the fritz again!" You laughed lightly, innocently.
Oh, how evil.
"... I can see that." He said.
"I think it would be best if I just got the new printer." You said, tilting your head to the side. "You see, König was in my office but he can't go about his day until his paperwork gets finished!" You laughed.
"Well... I don't think a new one is in the cards right now-"
"Oh no!" You fake pouted. "I'd hate to cause your mission to delay König." She glances up at him.
His eyes were fixed on Dud.
His presence loomed.
It was as if he sucked the heat from the room, leaving the air in a suffocating freeze.
"Oh- well-" Dud stammers.
"We wouldn't want to cause any inconveniences to König here, would we?" You ask innocently.
Dud swears that a red glint flashes in König's eyes.
"Of course not!" He all but heaves out, sweat collecting on his brow.
"So, new printer?" You ask happily.
"I'll have it brought down right away."
"Great!" You smile, turn, and quickly walk out of the door.
König doesn't move, opting to leave an impression by standing there in silence a few seconds longer, staring into his soul.
"König!" You call.
His head snaps back, releasing him from his trance. He spins on his heel and quickly exits the room, tailing you.
Man, maybe next you could get new linens!
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hayatheauthor · 10 months
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Blog Posts Masterlist
Here are all the blogs I've written sorted according to six categories and a lot of sub categories.
Post Writing (Publishing):
Querying/Getting Published
How To Get Published As A Minor—A Step-By-Step Guide
How To Get Out Of The Slush Pile And Make Your Agent Say Yes
How To Answer Some Common Literary Agent Questions
The Rejection Checklist: Manuscript Pitfalls to Avoid
Editing
Everything You Need To Know Before Editing Your Manuscript
Pre Writing:
WIP building
Ten Dos And Don'ts Of Worldbuilding
How To Name Your Characters
A Step-by-Step Guide to Crafting a Compelling Storyline
How to Pick The Perfect Weapon For Your Characters
Writing tools
How To Hook Your Readers With Your Chapter's Starting And Ending
How To Write And Create A Sub Plot
How To Immerse Your Readers With Indirect Characterisation
First or Third Person? How To Choose The Right POV for Your Story
Genre-Based Advice:
Fantasy
How To Build A Realistic Magic System
Things To Consider When Writing With Mythologies
Tips To Consider When Writing A Fantasy Religious Story
Horror/Thriller
How To Get Away With Murder...As An Author
How To Get Away With Murder Part Two: Writing Murder Mysteries
How To Build Tension And Make Your Readers Feel Scared
Character-Based Advice:
How To Write An Antagonist
How To Create Realistic Book Characters
How To Write Mythical Creatures Without Sounding Redundant
How To Write A Compelling Character Arc
How To Create A Morally Grey Character
How To Write A Plot Device Character
How To Develop A Memorable Antagonist
Writing Believable Teenage Characters: Dos and Don'ts
Crafting Character Voices And Distinct Dialogue
Crafting Authentic Child Characters: From Toddlers to Tweens
How To Create And Execute Unreliable Narrators
'Sensitive' character topics:
How To Write POC Characters Without Seeming Racist
How To Write A Disabled Character: Ten Dos And Don'ts
How To Write And Research Mental Illnesses
Scene-Based Advice:
How To Build Tension And Make Your Readers Feel Scared
Four Tips On How To Make Your Plot Twist Work
How To Set The Scene Without Info Dumping
Writing A Creepy Setting: Tips And Examples
The Dos and Don'ts of Writing Flashbacks in Fiction
Fights, poison, pain
How To Accurately Describe Pain In Writing
How To Create A Well-Written Fight Scene
The Ultimate Guide To Writing Persuasive Arguments
Forgining Epic Battles: Techniques For Writing Gripping War Scenes
The Writer's Guide to Authentic Wounds and Fatalities
Ink And Venom: A Writer’s Guide To Poisonous Prose
Everything You Need To Know About Writing Stab Wounds
Everything You Need to Know About Writing Burns
Everything You Need To Know About Writing Gunshot Wounds
Recommendations:
Websites And Writing Apps Every Author Needs in 2023
Seven Blogs You Need To Read As An Author
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m0llygunn · 9 months
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It Gets Worse (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)
Part 2 to Same Old Song and Dance
Summary: As the rhythm of your never ending dance with Eddie speeds up, things change, but is it really for the worse?
Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), mean!eddie (not rlly tho), enemies to lovers Warnings: 18+, mature language, pet names (princess), oral (male receiving), smut. Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who reblogged/interacted with the first part!! it was the second thing I ever posted on here so it was very cool for me. I hope you like part 2. Part 3 soon! wc: 6.2k
tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73
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“It was a poor lapse in judgment. That’s all. If he’s suddenly nicer to me, good. If he stays his same undignified self, fine.” You say, scribbling down the notes you missed. 
You were ‘sick’ yesterday. After what happened with Eddie, you had to be. 
“I think you’re missing one more option there.” Nancy says, eyebrows turned up in concern. 
“I’m not.” You shrug.
“You are.” She persists. 
“Fine, Nance. What am I missing?” You say, putting your pencil down and giving her your full attention.
“He gets worse.” 
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Eddie left your house pretty quickly after it all went down. Probably desperate to get home and ‘rub one out’ as he so eloquently put it. 
You were fine after he left, still riding the post orgasm high. 
It was only after you sat down, taking out your school work, that the worksheet from Mrs. Ward's class knocked you back down to earth. 
You let Eddie Munson, the boy who has terrorized you since elementary school, finger you. And the worst part, it was good. Great, even. 
So naturally, you were sick the next day. You enjoyed yourself an Eddie Munson free day from the safety of your bed. 
Around 7 that night, Nancy called you telling you that Eddie was asking where you were at school. And of course, Nancy with her inquisitive— and extremely persuasive mind, got you to spill your guts. She knows all about your ongoing hostility with Eddie, but for some reason, what happened between you two didn’t surprise her in the slightest. 
In exchange for the gory details of your afternoon with Eddie, she agreed to meet you on the bleachers before school started to borrow her notes. 
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Eddie sauntered into class as if he wasn’t late. He wasn’t phased as Mrs. Ward scolded him. With a muttered ‘Sorry’, he stepped into the classroom, eyes narrowed on you, with a buzzing excitement coursing through his veins and an extra pep in his step.
You had managed to avoid Eddie the whole day up until now.
His eyes burned into you from the minute he appeared in the doorway. The only thing you could do was sit up straighter and pretend like you couldn’t see him. 
Even as he purposefully passed in front of your desk, knocking his fist on the surface as he rounded to his own seat, you pretended he was nothing but a pesky house fly that just barely got on your nerves with its ceaseless buzzing. 
When a note landed on your desk only minutes after his arrival, you took your time opening it. 
‘Where were you?’ was scribbled out in red ink. It didn’t deserve your response. 
Instead, you gathered your hair in your hands, swirling it around your fingers, tying it into a tight bun at the base of your neck. Pulling out a few pieces of hair to frame your face, careful to make sure no strands were inherently ‘pullable'. 
When Mrs. Ward dedicates the remaining portion of class to working with your partners, you close your eyes inhaling deeply before turning.
“Why were you asking Nancy where I was yesterday? Are you, like, obsessed with me now?” You say, beating Eddie to the chase. His eyes open wide, mouth dropping slightly, as his cheeks tinge pink. 
“No.” He says quietly, eyes dropping to his desk where his notebook lays blank, page ripped in half from the note he threw at you. 
“So what then?” You snap. 
He shrugs.
You weren’t expecting him to give up just like that. You jumped the gun on an unexpecting target. The dance is only fun with two people. 
Silence between you two, you set your worksheet down on his desk, swiveling your body to face him. 
As you cross your legs under his desk, your foot rubs his shin and he doesn’t even make any of his usual stupid comments. He doesn’t even look up. 
So you do it again. And again. You let your foot trail up from his ankle all the way to his calf as you scribble ideas down on your worksheet. 
When you hook your foot around his leg you’re surprised when you feel fingers grip your bare ankle.
“Fucking quit it.” He hisses, lifting your leg higher until your knee hits the bottom of his desk in a thud.
“Eddie. I’m wearing a skirt. Let. Go.” You snap, trying to break his grip. 
“Oh, but I thought you liked attention?” He scoffs, eyes set on you harshly.
“Let. Go.” You repeat, kicking your leg trying to free yourself but his grip only gets stronger. 
“You like attention so much, princess, that your giant ego just assumed I was obsessed with you, huh?” He says, amusement rising in his blazen eyes as he watches the way your brows pinch. 
You kick your leg again and his grip becomes impossibly tight, his fingertips nearly bruising into your skin. 
“You’re hurting me, Eddie.” You hiss, your voice gaining the attention of a few surrounding students. 
His grip loosens immediately, dropping your ankle from his hand, and he makes fast work of kicking his chair back and standing from the desk.
Mrs. Ward yells after him as he leaves the class but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back. 
You don’t go after him and he doesn’t return to class either. The bell rings and you pack up your stuff, eyes flickering to the door waiting for him to come back for his notebook. He doesn’t though, so you close the notebook, stacking it on top of your own books before exiting the class.
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You weren’t going to actively seek him out to give him his notebook back. You were just going to hand it to him in passing. The only issue is, you haven’t seen him. 
“Hey. Your name's Gareth, right?” You say, walking up to the boy as he closes his locker.
“Yeah.” He says, smirking as he looks at you.
“Oh, I’m-”
“We know who you are.” Another boy, who you think is named Jeff, says from the other side of Gareth.
“Eddie’s not around. Was pretty pissed off, actually. Something to do with you, I’m assuming?” Gareth says, brows lifting as he awaits your response.
“Why would it be because of me? He’s the one with the problem.” You scoff, furrowing your brows angrily. Gareth's smirk drops immediately, turning timid under your fire. 
“Hey, hey. Sorry. We just hear about you all the time, it’s exhaust—”
“Gareth.” Jeff cuts him off, shooting him a look.
“Dude, c’mon.” Gareth says to Jeff. Jeff shoots him another pointed look before they start silently communicating with each other through looks.
“Where is he?” You huff, getting annoyed. 
“Your guess is as good as ours.” Gareth says with a shrug. 
“Thanks.” You scoff, spinning on your feet, mad at yourself for even bothering to try and find Eddie. 
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The notebook’s been taunting you all day, especially now as you sit in your room trying to get your homework done. There it is peeking out from your bag. 
Giving into temptation, you grab the book, taking it to your bed.
Flipping open the first page, it’s just doodles. Flipping another page, more doodles, another page, even more doodles. 
Skipping a few pages you finally find some scribbled messy writing that you can just barely make out. Something about someone named mage? Something about… a dwarf? 
You skip more pages and it’s the same nonsensical writing with something about a sorcerer until it clicks. You find a page titled hellfire and you realize it has to be that nerdy fantasy game he plays with his little friends. 
You quickly get bored. You were hoping for something juicy, something that would provide you with ammunition against him. It’s mostly just a lot of drawings of tits and weird looking demon-y things. 
You slide the notebook under your pillow before going back to your homework. 
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A knock at your window startles you, heart pounding rapidly against your ribs. When you see eyes through the gap in the curtain your heart nearly stops until you recognize them. Then your heart speeds up again.
You go back to reading your book, kicking your legs back and forth behind you.
He knocks again and you wave. He points to the lock and you shrug, going back to your book, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips. 
A third knock. It’s much more aggressive and shakes the shutters making you jump. If your dad was actually home, that would have woken him but he’s not. It’s just you and you know Eddie knows it too because of the empty driveway.
“Jesus Christ.” You mutter to yourself, pushing off your bed.
You unlock the window and he’s quickly pushing it open.
“Notebook.” He says flatly, holding his hand out. 
“Notebook?” You question innocently. 
“Notebook.” He repeats harshly, making you clench your jaw. Who does he think he is, coming to your house and talking to you like that?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, turning around and going back to laying on your stomach with your book. 
“You have my notebook.” He states, still perching outside.
“Why would I have your stupid notebook?” You sneer, rolling your eyes. 
“You have it.” He sighs, pushing the window open as wide as it can go. 
“I don’t even see why you would need it at this hour, I never took you as a studier.” You say indifferently, flipping the page of your book. 
You watch out of your periphery as he crawls through your window seamlessly, landing gently on the carpeted floor. 
“Shoes off.” You say but he ignores you, stepping further into the room. “Eddie, I said shoes off.” You repeat more sternly. He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch before he’s kicking off his shoes.
He moves to the side of the bed, standing with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his forearm. He exhales through his nose in an almost growl and you happily keep your attention on your book as you get him all worked up. 
“Princess, I know you have it, just hand it over so I can go.” He snarls. 
“No.” You say stubbornly, eyes still glued to the pages of your book. 
You see him turn, head darting around the room before landing on your bag next to your desk. He swiftly moves to the bag, picking it up, and before you have time to protest, he’s dumping the contents on the floor.
“What the fuck did you do that for?” You hiss, throwing your book to the side and jumping up from your bed. 
He uses his foot to push around your bag’s contents before giving up since it’s not there. You lower to your knees, picking up your stuff hastily and putting it back in your bag. 
You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you as you gather your things and you're waiting for a snide remark, you know it’s coming.
“You look pretty on your knees like that, princess.” He says, voice low making your stomach squeeze. 
You look up at him with furrowed brows, and his eyes are set on you, looking down the slope of his nose, watching intently.
“Perv.” You scoff.
“Careful, princess. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at you in class today.” He says, laughing meanly.
“I wasn’t doing that.” You retort, feeling your cheeks burn hot. You focus your attention on fitting some loose pages back in your folder that he scattered everywhere.
“So what were you doing then?” He says amusedly. 
“I wasn’t doing anything.” You shrug your shoulders trying your best to hold onto your attitude. 
“C’mon, princess. Don’t play dumb, I’m not into bimbos.” He scoffs, his familiar teasing tone slowly coming back and you do your best to hide your excitement at the prospect of Eddie rejoining this little thing you two do. 
You pause your actions before flickering your gaze to him, looking up through your eyelashes as you sit a little taller.
“So what are you into then?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper, purposefully breathy. His eyes connect with yours before dropping lower, licking his lips in the process. 
“Pretty girls on their knees for me.” He smirks, his freshly wet lips glistening, looking all too inviting and it almost makes you squirm. 
“I’m only on my knees cause you’re a dick.” You mumble under your breath, zipping up your bag.
“Cause my dick- what, sweetheart?” He laughs. 
“You are a dick.” You say louder, clenching your jaw at his stupid excuse of a joke.
“C’mon, princess. Lighten up.” He says, stepping forward. You lean back, his crotch being way too close to you, but then he drops, crouching to your level, his face only inches from yours. 
You pause, waiting to see what he’s doing, but he just looks at you. His eyes are unmeeting of your own, choosing to flutter over your features before bringing a hand to your face, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
“Notebook, princess.” He sings softly, reminding you why he’s here. 
“It’s at school.” You lie, raising your brows challengingly. 
“No it’s not.” He says confidently.
“Yes, it is.” You argue, furrowing your brows at him.
“No, it’s not, princess.” He sighs and you feel his breath fan over your lips. It takes everything in you not to look.
“Eddie, how the fuck would you know?” You seethe, getting frustrated. You’re supposed to be leading this game, you’re the one on your knees. 
“Cause I looked in your locker. I know it’s not in there.” He says coolly, unaffected. 
“How- What do you mean, you looked in my locker?” You say bewildered, fists clenching at your side. 
“I know it’s not in there, so it must be somewhere in here.” He says, ignoring your question, gaze moving around your room before settling back on you. He winks before standing, his crotch appearing directly in your face until he spins on his heels walking towards your bookshelf. “Gonna make me tear apart your pretty room looking for it, princess?” He taunts, starting to pull out books from the shelf at random. 
“It’s not there.” You say firmly.
“Well maybe I’ll take a look just to be sure. Especially since we both know that you like to lie.” He says, shifting around trinkets on the top shelf.
“I don’t lie.” You huff but he ignores you, continuing to poke and prod at your things.
“Oh look, princess has a princess.” He teases, lifting up a ceramic ornament your dad gave you for your fifth birthday. 
“If you break that I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten, standing up and moving to his side, watching him with crossed arms.
“Kinky.” He teases, putting the ornament down before opening your jewelry box.
“Your notebook wouldn't even fit in there.” You say, rolling your eyes. Now he’s just touching stuff to piss you off.
“You never know, princess.” He replies, rifling around, tangling your necklaces in the process before you swat his hand away.
He steps back, looking around your room again.
“Eddie, give it a rest.” You say, exhaling all the air from your lungs in a huff. 
“Princess, give me my notebook.” He sings, before bounding to your dresser. His hand hovers over the top drawer and he looks back at you with a smirk.
“Don’t you dare.” You hiss.
“It could be in here?” He says innocently. “Everybody knows that the underwear drawer is the best drawer for hiding stuff.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
“It’s not in there.” You state.
“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a peek?” He says, fingertips taping on the handle. You purse your lips, he wants to look at your panties so bad, fine. 
“Go right ahead, Eddie. Live up to your perv reputation.” You say, jetting a hip out. He rolls his eyes, before turning, moving on to a different part of your room.
“I wonder what kind of dirty secrets the princess keeps in her bedside table.” Eddie taunts. 
There are no dirty secrets in your bedside table but you’re sure even if he opened that drawer and found nothing he’d still spin it into something.
“Must be a pretty important notebook for you to be doing all this, Eddie.” You say, trying to distract him.
He turns to you, eyes scanning over you, sizing you up. 
“You must like me being in your room princess, you know, considering you could just hand over the notebook.” He retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge. 
“What? Don’t want me reading your precious notebook? That why you need it so bad?” You taunt.
“Princess, if you must know, I need it for something.” He says, lips pulled in a flat line, unbothered.
“Something? That’s not very specific.” You laugh. 
“I didn’t know you were so interested in my life?” He says, perking up.
“I’m not.” You scoff.
“Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it’ll come true.” He smirks and you want to smack it right off his face.
“Well, you’re the one who was asking about me yesterday.” You spit, words rolling off your tongue.
“You were sick the day before, god forbid I have a heart and a conscience.” He spits back.
The way your own heart speeds up leaves you stumped for words and he picks it up immediately, choosing to double down on you. 
“You weren’t sick though, were you? No. Princess was playing hooky. Who were you trying to avoid, hm?” He says, stepping closer to you.
“No one.” You say quietly, body turning hot under his interrogation.
“That sounds like another lie to me. It’s hypocritical, princess, to make me try and admit something while you can’t tell me one honest thing.” He says, voice all too daunting for your liking.
“I’m not lying.” You whisper.
His demeanor changes, all smirks and taunting eyes gone as he settles into something serious. 
“Did you regret it? Is that it?” He says quietly, voice staying low but he doesn’t step any closer.
“Regret what?” You deflect, buying time for your heart to stop fluttering so hard.
He steps closer.
“Princess, what did I tell you about playing dumb?” You hear his voice vibrate from his chest, words striking something inside of you like a match.
“You said you like pretty girls on their knees better.” You coo, looking at him through your lashes. Keeping eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him. 
You watch as his eyes widen and it spurs you on. You’re holding the reins now, you’re in control again. Letting your fingertips hook through his belt loops, you pull him forward until he’s right where you want him.
What surprises you is the way he brings his hand to your cheek. It’s soft and almost tender. You could make the mistake of leaning into it, but you don’t. 
“Princess, what do you want from me?” He whispers softly. His round eyes twinkle in your bedroom lights, captivating you entirely.
“I don’t want anything from you.” You purr, fingers still hooked in his belt loops keeping him in place. His hand on your cheek turns into a thumb running soft circles against your skin. 
“Princess.” He sighs, his chest deflating.
“Do you want me to now?” You ask quietly, letting your eyes flicker to his belt line, referring to his words from the last time you tried to get on your knees for him. 
“I didn’t come here for this.” He says, mouth moving in a tight line like he’s fighting some internal battle.
“Yeah, you came here for your notebook.” You state, raising your brows. “But are you gonna let me suck your dick?”
With his jeans tightening by the second his mouth still mulls back and forth, his thumb running soft circles on your cheek. He swallows and you know he’s made up his mind. 
“S’all yours, princess.” He says, punctuating his words with a gentle tap to your cheek.
Unhooking your fingers from his belt loops, you walk them to the buckle, the jangle of metal filling the room as you work at it. He watches you intently, eyes staring heatedly when you finally get it undone.
“You gonna let me touch you?” You say with a teasing lilt, copying the same words he said to you. He catches your tease, lips turning up, smiling at you with amusement. “C’mon, Eddie. Use your words, I know you got ‘em in that idiot mouth of yours.” You add, digging in further with your mockery. 
“You think you're teasing me, but that’s hot, princess. Keep talking.” He says, voice low and taunting as his narrowed eyes flickering over you.
“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about all those pretty noises I made for you, Eddie?” You coo with a breathy sweetness. His smile wavers but the amused sparkle in his darkening eyes remains strong. 
“You don’t want to know, princess.” He replies carefully. 
“I do, Eddie, that’s why I asked.” You let your fingers drag down his clothed thighs, he still hasn’t given you an answer, so you don’t go any further. “It’s barely been two days, how many times could a boy possibly cum?” You ask coyly. 
“Got a high turnover rate, princess. Can pop one boner after another if something really gets me going.” He laughs and you let your lips turn up at his ridiculousness.
“You didn’t answer me, Eddie.” you say, trailing your nails back up the denim on his thighs. He shuts his mouth harshly before opening it again to speak. 
“Anywhere between 2 to 10 times, whatever you think the best answer is, princess. You’re the smart one here.” You laugh and his cheeks tinge pink just enough for you to notice.
“Eddie, I meant my other question. Are you gonna let me touch you?” You say, dipping your head to look at him through your lashes again. His blush deepens as his eyes drink you in, absorbing everything from the way you look at him to the way you speak. 
“Princess, I always want you to touch me.” He whispers, his voice small, yet genuine, and it makes your stomach flutter terribly. 
“Is that so?” You say feigning indifference, fingers ghosting over the button of his jeans. 
“Please.” He says breathily, swallowing thickly as his eyes follow your dainty movements. 
To have him so willing at your fingertips. To have him say please. To have him. It stirs something in you that it’s never done before. None of the teasing, hair pulling, name calling, none of that has made you feel anything but red hot anger. But this… this isn’t anger. You’re still burning, but it’s not anger anymore. 
His fingers smooth your hair, pulling you from your reverie, drawing your attention up to him. His eyes are waiting for you, softer than ever. It makes you want to scream. Makes you want to lash out. Stomp your foot. Throw something.
But you don’t do that. Instead you undo the button to his jeans and lower the zipper. 
“You okay, princess?” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence.
“What?” You snarl, scrunching your face, glaring at him. Overcompensating with an edge. Hiding behind a thin disguise.
“You just went quiet. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says calmly despite the reckless edge you just threw at him. His fingers pass over the top of your head gently, smoothing your hair again.
“Eddie, I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.” You scoff. 
“Jesus Christ. I try to be nice and this is what I get?” He huffs but there’s barely any malice behind it, just enough to rile you up. 
“Eddie. You just fucking said I was the smart one here, don’t you think I can make my own decisions?” You retort harshly. 
“I know you can, princess.” He says exasperatedly. “Fuck, I think I liked it better when you were quiet, can we go back to that?” He groans.
“Fuck you.” You spit aggressively, hands starting to tug down his denim. You half expected him to stop you but he doesn’t. Instead, when you get them down his thighs, he helps you, kicking them off to the side. 
Left in his plaid boxers, you hook your fingers around the waist band, and look up to him for permission. With a nod, you pull them down, fabric pooling around his feet.
He bobs against his lower belly before settling in front of you. You try not to react, you can’t give him that. The mean part of you was hoping he’d be small just so you could use it against him, another part of you glows with excitement because he’s not. He’s perfect and you would never tell him that.
You take him in your hand and immediately his breath catches in his throat. Barely moving, a whimper rises in his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun.
You spit in your hand, bringing it to his length, spreading it all over with both hands, making sure he’s nice and wet. 
“Fuck.” He groans and you can’t help the amused smile that spreads on your lips. 
“Eddie, I’ve barely even started, and look at you.” You tease, his cock jolting in your hands. 
“Keep talking, princess.” He whispers, sounding almost desperate.
“You like when I talk?” You laugh. You start pumping slowly with your one hand, dragging back and forth over his hardness. “You just said you wanted me to be quiet.”
He shakes his head aggressively, eyes shutting.
“Like it when you talk, princess.” He moans.
You sit up straighter on your knees, bringing your mouth to his tip, licking just the head. His eyes shoot open, gaze immediately setting on you.
“You like that, Eddie?” You tease and he nods his head dumbly. “Want me to do it again?” He nods again.
You place a kiss to his tip, pulling back to watch his reaction but he doesn’t have any. In fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
“Eddie, you gotta breathe, can’t have you passing out just from getting your dick sucked.” You taunt. His mouth opens, sucking in a breath, his chest rising and falling harshly as he lets it out. “Look at you, such a good listener tonight.” You laugh, his dick kicking up in your hand again. You shake your head in amusement before placing another kiss to his tip.
You pull away entirely, pushing yourself off your knees, moving to your bed. He’s clearly not fit for standing right now. 
When you sit, turning back to Eddie, he’s still standing in the middle of your room, hands brought to his face as he rubs aggressively.
“Eddie.” You call, getting his attention. He spins, pulling his hands away from his face, his bangs sticking up in all different directions. You pat the spot next to you and he’s quick to claim it. 
“That’s better isn’t it?” You say as he lays down, hair spanning over your pillow. 
“Better.” He says, voice cracking. 
You settle between his legs, mouth watering as you take him in your hand again. 
You dribble spit over the tip, letting it fall over the head before gathering it, spreading it with a twist of both hands up and down his cock. 
“Gonna let me use my mouth now, Eddie? Or are you still desperate to hear me talk?” You tease, gaze finding his blown out eyes.
He nods but you tut. 
“Wanna hear you say it, Eddie.” You coo, letting your eyes flicker over him. You stop your hand movements when he takes too long to reply.
“Princess, please put your mouth on my cock. Please.” He says, words practically a whine spilling from his lips. 
You nestle closer to him between his thighs, dipping your face, licking up the underside of his cock before opening your mouth and letting it hit against your tongue.
You watch him carefully, reveling in the way he’s falling apart for you. His chest rises and sinks in steady pants, mouth set agape, as his wide eyes watch your every move.
Closing your lips around him, you let him slide in just enough for you to swirl your tongue around his tip.
“Fuck” He groans. You hum, not missing the way his thighs clench as you do.
His hand finds your head, combing your hair back, resting his palm against the side of your face. Most guys start pushing on the back of your head, but Eddie doesn’t. 
Flattening your tongue, you take him deeper in your mouth, twisting your hands around him and meeting your mouth halfway up his length.
His other hand takes purchase on the mattress, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the comforter. It’s completely dichotomous to the gentle grip he holds on your face. It’s almost laughable. 
You bring your head up and down before pulling off with a pop, spitting on the tip again, making sure your hands glide slickly along his length. 
“Is that good, Eddie?” You ask before returning your mouth to his cock. Your added spit makes a slick, wet noise as you move your fists up and down on his length.
“Fuck, princess. S’really good.” He gasps breathily, his stomach tensing as your thumb wipes at the precum gathering on his tip.  
You smile before parting your lips, taking him back in your mouth.
You take him further this time, his cock hitting the back of your throat and he whimpers pitifully. You do it again and his fingertips press in the slightest bit harder against your face, still not pushing you, just translating his pleasure through his touch.
You hollow your cheeks, sinking harder and faster, bobbing your head. His fingers weave into your hair gently and it spurs you on. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him slide right in until your lips meet your fingers at his base.
When you do it again, you push yourself a little too hard, gagging yourself, sputtering as you rise. With a deep, broken moan Eddie’s hips follow your mouth, only settling back to the bed when you pull off of him with a gasp as you catch your breath. 
“Jesus Christ.” He whimpers under his breath.
You feel his cock pulsing in your fist, his hand tugging ever so gently on the roots of your hair and you start to think you might just like this too much. 
You take him in your mouth again, all the way back to your throat, removing your hands entirely until your nose nestles against the wispy hairs above his shaft.
You exploringly let your fingertips tiptoe to his balls, taking them in one hand, massaging them gently.
“F-fuck. Fuck.” Eddie groans, stomach tensing sharply, his thighs squeezing against you. 
You jerk your head on his cock, continuing to massaging his balls using the mess of wetness leaking down his shaft to help guide your skillful movements.
It’s not long before every bob of your head is being chased by the rise of his hips. He’s desperate for release, you both know it.
You flicker your eyes to him and he’s never looked more scattered. Bangs disheveled, cheeks rosy, brows pinched, half lidded eyes all dark and pleading, just for you. You do like it too much, you really, really do.
His gaze meets yours, flickering between you and your mouth.
“Doing so fucking good princess. Don’t stop. Please.” He whines. You hum contentedly, sinking onto him, hands still working his balls as they tense in your grasp. 
His hand in your hair starts to sting as he pulls at it but he still doesn’t push you, he wouldn’t do that unless you told him to, you’re sure of it now.
His moans and whimpers rise, getting higher and longer, composing a symphony just for you. It comes to a crescendo when you take him all the way to his base again. His hips rise from the mattress, cock choking you, and you swallow around him, making him cry out a desperate moan that simmers into a broken whimper.
You know he’s close. 
You hum to yourself, gulping him into your mouth, meeting his quick, uneven thrusts. 
“I’m g-gonna cum.” He says in a strangled moan. His hand in your hair tugs impossibly hard, trying to pull you from him but you don’t let him. He doesn’t make your decisions, you do. He should know better.
You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and working him in your hands. The obscene, slicked noises coming from your movements fill the room, accompanying his moans, and he breaks. 
For a moment, you watch him as he falls apart and it’s beautiful. Eyes rolling closed, face contorted in pleasure. It’s undeniably beautiful. You don’t let yourself drink in his beauty for too long though, that would be like admitting something and you wouldn’t do that so you refocus on the task at hand (and mouth).
Cum spurting to the back of your throat, you take him deeper a final time, swallowing it all down until you can’t. You pull up, feeling some leaking for the corners of your lips but you keep going, working him through his release as his cock throbs against your tongue. 
He cums so hard that he’s babbling different versions of praises intermixed with your name. Your real name. Not princess, and it takes you by surprise. 
“Fucking shit. F-Fuck.” He whimpers, hips sinking back to the mattress, stuttering. You slow your movements before pulling off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’. 
His cock is shiny, the cum that didn’t get swallowed, gathering around his base. You flicker your eyes to him and he’s watching you now with a glazed over stare. Dipping your mouth to him one last time, you lick up the pearly shine and he looks at you like he might explode. 
You pull away with a laugh, wiping your mouth. 
His body deflates, melting into the mattress as he throws his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.
“Holy shit.” He groans.
You shift in between his thighs, hands disgustingly wet and sticky so you reach up, wiping both of them down the front of his shirt, leaving behind the glistening wet print of 10 fingers on the black fabric. You expect him to say something but his eyes remain closed, breathing still heavy.
With a gap between the two of you, you lay down beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes move up, taking in the rosiness of his face and the way it spreads down his neck. You even take the time to notice the delicate way his thick lashes lay atop his cheeks.
“You better not fall asleep here.” You sneer, shaking your head, forcing yourself to stop staring before he notices.
“Why not? Daddy’s not home is he?” He says, breathing still heavy.
“Don’t be a dick.” You retort. He pauses, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out.
“Pretty sure mine just melted off.” You see his smirk on his face, but his eyes remain closed.
“No, it’s still there unfortunately.” You say flatly, eyes flitting to his softening dick.
“Unfortunately?” He laughs.
“Yup.” You reply.
Eddie shifts the slightest bit, hand raising from his side as he blindly feels around the bed. When he touches your hip you try to swat him away but he grabs your hand, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours.
“Gross, stop trying to hold my hand!” You shriek, holding back your laughter as you try to shake him off.
“Princess, let me hold your fucking hand. You just sucked the soul right out of me, I need this.” He says with a laugh, grasp getting stronger with each shake of your wrist. 
“You're so weird.” You say, hiding your amusement, trying to find any hint of malice to add to your words but it comes out meak.
Eddie lays there for a few minutes, your hand in his. You try to ignore his radiating warmth by thinking about the project you’re supposed to be doing with him but your eyes keep sinking to your hand in his. 
“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Eddie says, turning to face you, opening his eyes finally. His question startles you, taking you aback.
“What?” You laugh.
“For school. What time should I pick you up?” He says again, speaking to you like you’re a child.
“You’re not picking me up.” You state. It’s not up for debate.
“You’re not playing hooky tomorrow, and if I pick you up, I can be sure of it.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 
“You’re not picking me up.” You state again.
“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight then tomorrow we can walk to school together.” He replies, tilting his face towards you and lifting his brows.
“You can't sleep here.” You object firmly.
“Princess.” He says warningly.
“Eddie.” You warn back. His eyes stare into you, making your stomach flutter with nerves. 
“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my hands.” You say abruptly, pulling your hand from his.
“I’ll be here.” He sings teasingly.
“No. You. Won’t.” You reply stubbornly as you haul yourself off the bed and out of the room.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
Nancy's words from earlier ring in your head. 
‘He gets worse.’
The game you play is shifting. The dance is speeding up. It makes your heart beat too fast and your stomach flutter dreadfully.
Maybe she was right. 
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
part 3 here
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oneforthemunny · 10 months
Text
funny bunny |older!dilf!eddie munson x reader|
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prompt: a halloween couples costume that's inspired by yours and eddie's relationship, and his special nickname for you.
@eddiemunsons-missingnipple big creds for the older!eddie pic used in the header!!!!
contains: age gap relationship. eddie is 43, reader is 26. everything is consensual. language, drinking, filthy filth ahead MINORS DNI 18+, oral fem receiving v and a, ass play, plugs, fingering v and a, praise kink, p in v sex, creampie. role-play-ish. not really rough mainly just kinky freaky but some aftercare after.
"You look so good!"
You squealed from your place at your vanity, pulling the hot rollers out of your hair.
Eddie pouted slightly, brows creased in a deep furrow on his forehead. Looking down at the Burgundy, velvet robe with black trim, he let out a small huff. "I look ridiculous." He muttered.
"No, you don't." You giggled, running your hands over the silk trim, fixing the collar. "This looks so good. I can't believe how close it looks to the real thing." You grinned, eyes gleaming when you looked up at him. "You look just like Hefner."
Eddie scoffed, shaking his head slowly so his curls bobbed, inked hand rubbing across his beard. "I think that might be more insulting than you mean it to be, bunny." He grumbled, plopping on the edge of the bed. "I'm not that old."
You laughed, sitting in his lap, arms around his neck with a wide smile. Eddie couldn't help but smile back. How could he not? With how your warmth just radiated out of you and into him. Infectious happiness.
"I meant the robe." You reassured, running a hand down his chest. "We're going to look so good tonight. Steve and Nancy aren't gonna know what hit them!" You squealed, smacking your lips to his cheek in a quick, loud kiss before scampering back over to the vanity.
Eddie groaned. It had taken you weeks of convincing for him to agree to this costume. Hugh Hefner and a Playboy Bunny; a classic- well, maybe more for frat boys, but when the idea came to you, you just had to do it. A light jest to the clear age difference in your relationship, a way to poke fun at the obvious, but also a nod towards your beloved nickname Eddie had given you: bunny.
A sweet, innocent little nickname, that had been given to you at a completely un-innocent moment, and it had stuck. You were Eddie's little bunny, his golden girl. His.
"Will you promise you won't post any pictures tonight?" Eddie asked for the tenth time that night. "I don't need Brielle seeing that shit or- fuck- or Gina. She'll probably take me back to court."
You nodded. "Eddie, I promise, baby, I won't post anything. I don't need to get fired over a Halloween costume. You know how those parents are." You teased, looking at him through the mirror. "And I highly doubt you'll be deemed an unfit parent for a Hefner costume."
Eddie nodded, looking down at his watch. "You almost ready? We're supposed to be there at seven."
You sprayed the final spritz of hairspray around yourself, smoothing and setting your styled hair. "I just gotta get dressed." You grinned, slipping towards the bathroom, throwing him a playful wink. "I'll be right back, Mr. Hefner." You dropped your voice to a sultry, low voice, batting your eyes before shutting the door.
Keeping your costume a secret for as long as you did was the hardest part. Eddie had agreed, eventually, but only with some persuasion, bribery. He had been dying to see your costume since you first announced it had come in. While his costume was nice, very close to the replica robe that the Playboy founder always wore with a matching pipe, it was nothing compared to yours.
Black nylon tights that were just sheer enough. Black pumps that Eddie loved on you anyways, he loved how they made your legs look- long and endless, his hands always trailing up your calf, squeezing your ankle. The corset, body suit was risqué. High cut and covering just enough of your ass that it could pass as barely not lingerie. Strapless and low in the front, tight enough to hold your breasts up in just the right way. You'd ordered white cuffs and a bowtie cuff choker to really complete the look, the authentic Playboy Bunny look.
Then of course, what kind of bunny would you be without ears and a tail? Black, silk ears that stood tall and slightly crooked on the headband, adjusted so it bent just barely. The tail, a black, faux-fur attachment you pinned just on your tailbone.
Your heart thumped rapidly in your chest, smoothing your clammy hands over your bodice. You had been so excited to show Eddie just moments ago, but now... you wondered if it was too much. If he'd like it. If he'd yell at you, accuse you of wanting unwarranted attention that wasn't his, demand for you to change, tell you that you're embarrassing him like your boyfriends in the past did. 
"You need any help in there?" Eddie's voice called from outside the door, making you jump slightly, ears falling forward gently.
"No! Just finishing up." You grabbed the hair pin, securing the ears back into place.
You checked your reflection one last time. Hands smoothing down the corset, turning in the mirror to make sure your attached tail was in the right place. Your heels clicked across the tile floors of the bathroom.
"Close your eyes." You called, barely cracking the door before you walked out. Eddie chuckled lightly and you could hear the bed creak, shifting his weight on the mattress. "Are they closed?" You asked, squinting out the small sliver through the door.
"They're closed, baby." Eddie reassured, his voice low and gravely. It made your stomach flip. "C'mon, show me Playmate."
Pulling the door open slowly, the hinges creaking ever so lightly, you stepped on to the shag carpet, steps muted by the material. You walked slowly, hands twisting and wringing in front of you before stopping in front of Eddie. You knew by the way his smile grew, dimples deep in his scruff and lines by his eyes crinkling, that he could feel your presence.
"Ok, open them." You smiled, placing your hands on your hips playfully.
Eddie's eyes opened, brows raising in amusement. "Oh-oh-oh, bunny." He laughed, moving closer, his hands reaching out for yours. You blushed under his gaze, how he roamed over your legs, tongue poking his cheek in a sideways smirk. Eddie looked at the cuffs, took extra time looking at your bodice and collar, calloused hands gliding over you.
"You've outdone yourself." Eddie smirked, looking up at you from his place on the edge of the bed. "Definitely getting the front page."
"You didn't even see my tail." You grinned, spinning and shaking your hips towards him, the attached tail bouncing with the movement.
Eddie groaned, low and deep, but playful. "Jesus, baby bunny, you're killing me. You know that?" He smacked your ass playfully, right beneath the tail, making you squeal. "I don't know if I'm gonna make it to the party with you looking like this."
"We have to go, Eddie." You pouted. "Or else no one will see our costumes, and I worked so hard on them." 
Eddie rolled his eyes, but stood, his hands still not leaving your waist. "I'd be alright with that." He laughed. "You could get me out of this robe and show me why you're called bunny, hm? Ride me all night, how's that sound?" Eddie nipped, tongue tickling the shell of your ear making you squeal and squirm against his hot breath.
You let out a nasally laugh when he squeezed your waist, hands gliding over your hips and tummy on the corset. He kissed right above your collar on your neck. "Eddie," You whined, thighs clamping. "Stop, we've got to go."
Eddie sighed, gently but not angry. He looked at your with soft brown eyes that had you melting. "I promise, when we get back I'll put on my real costume for you." You bit your lips, eyes meeting his, playful and alluring.
Eddie's brow quipped. "This isn't your costume?" He asked, hands trailing down your waist.
You shook your head, ears bouncing. "It's one of them, but I have a special costume just for you, Mr. Hefner." You purred, leaning forward so your lips barely brushed his. Eddie growled, tattooed fingers gripping your hips, digging into the nylons.
"But," You pushed back on his chest lightly. "We have to do this first." You lifted a finger towards him. Eddie groaned, head falling back. "Put your hat on Hef, we're late." You grinned, tossing him the captain's hat and slipping on your coat.
***
"Woah-ho-ho," Steve Harrington cackled, leaning in the doorway of his Hawkins McMansion. His amber eyes were wide, amused. "No fuckin' way. Hef and a Bunny?" He laughed, clapping his hands together.
You grinned proudly, arm lacing with Eddie's as you adjusted his hat, straightening it on top of his curls. "His favorite Playmate." You winked, giggling when Eddie's hand squeezed your ass.
"That's a fuckin' classic, holy shit." Steve laughed, shutting the door as the two of you walked in. "Nance, look at this!" He called into the living room where the party rage- well, as raging as a middle aged Halloween party could be. King Steve still did his best, even without the keg, you'd give him that.
Nancy gasped, Robin trailing behind her. "Oh my God, this is fuckin' amazing!" Robin laughed.
"How did you even think of this?" Nancy laughed, looking at the two of you, touching your cuffs on your arms.
You shrugged, biting back a smile when your eyes met Eddie's. "I dunno, just seemed kind of fitting." You laughed. "Brielle and I were actually watching House Bunny and it hie me, honestly."
Nancy laughed, shaking her curls that were piled high and teased. "That's genius, honestly. Way better than the Top Gun idea." Nancy rolled her eyes, glaring lightly at Steve, or Maverick, as he was supposed to be.
Nancy and Robin pulled you into the living room, offering to get you a drink while you chatted. Steve smirked, clapping Eddie playfully on the back. "Munson," He laughed, shaking his head.
Eddie grinned, shrugging as he watched you walk away, little fur tail bobbing with every swing of your ass. Steve snorted. "Hey, you think you can talk to your girl? See if she could convince Nancy to wear something like that for next year?" Eddie laughed, rolling his eyes, following you into the living room.
***
You were tipsy, but not drunk. You'd controlled yourself, despite the flowing drinks that Nancy kept offering you. You had a promise to keep.
You sat on the bench in Eddie's truck, hands in his, thighs touching, sharing small kisses at red lights. His hand cupped your thigh, thumb rubbing small circles on the nylon.
Every passing red light, his grip got tighter on the wheel as they inched closer and closer back to home. If your current costume was any indicator of what was to come, Eddie couldn't wait. He pressed the gas further, fake pipe lying next to his cigarettes in the cup holder, captain's hat resting on the dash.
Eddie threw the gear into park, the truck stopping with a jostle that had you giggling, his hands rough and pressed against your cheeks, pulling you into a harsh kiss. You could taste the beer he'd drank on his tongue, roaming in your mouth, hands moving down your jaw to your collar.
You giggled when Eddie pulled you inside, pinning you up against the door, hands in a tight grip on your waist, his lips on your jaw, kissing just below your ear.
"Wait, wait, wait!" You squealed, eyes rolling back when he sucked on your neck. "Wait! I have to change, Eddie. I have another costume." You giggled, pulling back, your head resting against the cool wood of the door.
Eddie's shoulders fell slightly. "Bunny, this costume is more than enough." He pouted. "I've been ready to fuck you all night."
You rolled your eyes, stepping out of his grasp. "Just wait right here." You scampered down the hall towards his room. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."
And, oh, was it.
Eddie waited for twenty agonizing minutes, hearing thumps and movement from behind the closed door of his bedroom. His leg bounced, hands pressed together. He'd ditched his clothes, well, except for the robe. It was comfy, and if you were going to stay dressed up, he figured he would too.
You beckoned Eddie in, squirming with excitement, kneeling on the edge of the bed. Eddie laughed when he walked in, eyes lit up and excited. "Shit..." Eddie's eyes roamed over your frame, your sheepish smile.
You knelt, waiting in what Eddie thought was the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. Black lace lingerie that left you exposed, completely see through and vulnerable. He could see your pebbled nipples through the cups, your exposed slit through the cut middle between your legs. The back was low on your spine, but high cup on the side, resting just above your hips. The best part- the slit went all the way up to your tail bone, leaving you completely exposed.
You finished off the look with two accessories just for him. A pair of matching lace ears, flimsier than the ones of the other costume, but complete with a small veil that covered your eyes, hitting the bridge of your nose. You'd tied your hair up, securing the ribbon underneath the ponytail.
Eddie's eyes traveled down next to you, where you giggled in excitement. Laying on the towel beside you, his real treat. A little tube of lee from his bedside drawer, and a fluffy, black tail attached to a plug- your bunny tail to complete the look.
You knew better than to put it in yourself and deprive him of his favorite part.
Eddie's tongue trailed over his bottom lip, picking up the shiny plug, rolling the cool metal around his fingers. You grinned, excitedly. "What do you think, Mr. Hefner?" You teased, cocking your head to the side. "Think I'll make Playmate of the month? Cover?"
Eddie laughed, deep and dark. "Oh, bunny," He brought the fur part to your now exposed neck, ticking over your collarbones so you shivered. "I think you're close, but you gotta show me you really want it." His eyes darkened, making you blush under his gaze.
"You ready to show me?" Eddie asked. Your head bobbed eagerly, obediently.
Eddie smirked. "That's my girl. Roll over for me, baby. All fours. Stick that pretty little ass up for me."
You shifted quickly, arching deep and low, pressing your hips up and your shoulders flat against the mattress. You could hear Eddie behind you, rummaging through his drawer.
"Gotta find my fuckin' camera, holy shit." Eddie muttered, pushing his socks and belts around in the drawer. "Gotta capture this, bunny. Can't believe you did this for me. All for me, huh?"
Your thighs clenched together, throbbing at the praise. Eyes pinched and you were sure he could see your slick already spreading, the cool air making goosebumps trail down your shoulders and spine.
Eddie pressed the film in, the whirl of the Polaroid starting up. He moved to the front, kneeling on the bed, camera pointed at you. "Look at me, bunny." You lifted your eyes, rounded and awaiting for him. The flash of the camera blinded you for a moment, making you blink under the lace mask over your eyes.
Eddie chuckled to himself, shaking the photo a few times before setting the camera back on his nightstand. "'M keepin' that for fuckin' ever." He groaned, hands trailing over your thighs and hips. "Gettin' that shit tattooed on me right now."
You giggled, arching into his touch on your ass. His hand trailed down your thighs and towards your aching center, gasping when he slid his pointer finger through your slick folds. Eddie hummed, pressing his face forward, licking a long stripe from your clit to your ass, collecting every drop of you and his tongue prodding your tightest hole.
You gasped, low and growling, clenching around nothing, head tilting back. You fisted the sheets, pushing your hips back even further when his touch returned to your aching clit, circling it with just the right pressure and speed that had your head spinning.
Eddie toyed with you, kneeling down with a groan, knees cracking so he was eye level with your sopping cunt. He pushed his fingers in, two pumping slowly. His other hand pulled your ass apart, tongue lapping and sucking at your clit.
You whined, legs trembling and clenching as he sucked and curled at just the right pace. He always had you coming undone so easily when he wanted, like he knew exactly what to do to make you wild. He did, clearly, playing your body perfectly like it was his guitar.
Your high pitched whiny cries floated towards the ceiling, head tilted back so far you were sure you'd just bend in half. Eddie's free hand caught your release on his fingers, spreading them over your ass hole, circling it gently before barely pushing the tip of his finger in.
You two had plenty of experience with ass play since the first drunken night, a favorable past time for the tow of you. Eddie had bought you toys, trained you up until you could finally take his cock. You loved how good he was at it, too good. You weren't exactly sure how someone could be so good at everything, and when you told Eddie that he laughed, telling you, "been around the sun a few more times than you, baby, I've got some more experience than others."
Your eyes pinched, falling face first into the duvet. The lace of the mask over your eyes rubbed against your lids and forehead when you pressed yourself against the bed, writhing and crying out when he pushed you over the edge again. The sensation of his fingers and tongue on both your holes mixed with your previous orgasm had you cumming quick, gushing around him.
Eddie grinned, standing with a low huff. Your knees were falling underneath you, leaving you spread, nearly rubbing against the duvet. "You ready for your tail, lil bunny?" Eddie asked, popping the top to the tube open. The plug looked small enough he could probably have you stretched out with just two fingers to the knuckle and the lube.
You sighed, whining slightly as you shifted, wiggling your still shaky legs back up into position, Eddie's hand on your waist guiding you back up gently. He ran a hand down back gently, pressing a kiss to space of your spine where the lace of the lingerie and exposed skin met.
Eddie squirted the cold lube making you clench. He cooed softly, trailing kisses down the dip of your spine over your hips, finger circling your tight hole. "You gotta relax, remember?" Eddie cooed when you clenched, pressing a kiss to your hips, his scruff tickling the delicate skin. "You need me to loosen you up a little more?"
You shook your head, dazed and hazy, pushing up on your forearms gently, looking back at him. "'M ready, I promise. 'M ok." You muttered, giving him a small smile.
Eddie returned it, leaning forward to kiss you, hard and deep, teeth clashing. "Fuck, bunny, you're too good to me." He muttered, lips still brushing yours, rubbing his nose to yours.
You looked at him, glassy eyed and dazed already even through the veil he could tell that, lowering your back so your ass arched farther, pressing your face to the side of the mattress. You watched him through the vanity mirror, the low lights of the room illuminating his figure.
Eddie pushed his first finger in, slow and gentle, circling you just expertly to get you ready. You moaned, clenching your legs when you throbbed. Eddie grinned watching you grind down, slowly wiggling back for more before he added the second, getting you nice and loose.
Eddie leaned forward, muttering in your ear little praises while he pushed in the plug, his lips against your lace covered temple. Eddie looked back when you shifted, the little puff of fur plugged in you making the cutest little tail.
"Look at you," Eddie cooed, laughing to himself, he kissed you deeply, wiping his hand on the towel you laid out. "God, baby, stay right there, ok? Arched just like that."
Eddie grabbed his camera, the flash going off rapidly. Eddie was making sure his spank bank would be full for a long time, drooling over you. He tossed his camera carefully, before climbing on top of you.
You twisted, his lips crashing and needy into you, grinding yourself down on his bare, inked leg when he wedged it between you, hands moving down to his boxers. You could feel his cock straining against his black briefs, hard and begging to be released to you.
Eddie moaned onto your mouth when you squeezed him through his underwear, your tiny hands expertly rolling and working him through the fabric. You could feel his pre-cum seeping through the material, leaving a wet patch.
Eddie's hands moved up to your tits, palming them through the material, squeezing and rolling your nipples. You whined, grinding down further on his leg. "Fuck, bunny, I gotta get this off you." Eddie muttered, pushing the straps down to your waist, leaving your top part exposed.
He kissed, sucked, bit all the way down, leaving trails of little bruises and red marks onto your skin. Your neck, collarbones, chest, breasts, tummy. He wanted to kiss every inch of you after you'd done all of this for him.
You whined when he turned you over, hovering so you were on your back, the tail of the plug shifting and moving with the duvet. Eddie pulled you carefully by your waist, brows furrowed slightly. "Here, let me help you out of this alright? I'll be careful."
And he was. So caring and gentle, pulling the straps of the lace down your body, until it was a puddle on the ground. You told him he didn't have to be so careful, but your heart was swelling at the gesture, how sweet he always was to you.
You went to move the ears off, but Eddie stopped you, running a hand down the nape of your neck. "Leave that on, please." He asked, eyes dark and lust blown. You just nodded, mouth salivating when he pulled his boxers down, throwing them next to your lingerie.
He pumped himself, pushing himself to the headboard, leaning lazily against it, lip tucked beneath his teeth. You blushed, squirming under his hungry gaze, slick and throbbing, nails digging into your palms as you shifted from foot to foot.
Eddie grinned. "You gonna show me why you're my bunny, aren't ya?" He asked, cocking a brow. You nodded. Eddie moved his hands, cock freeing from his grasp and lying against his tummy.
You grinned when you climbed on top of him, straddling him gently. "You wanna see my tail while I ride you?" You asked, loving the way his Adam's apple bobbed when you did.
"Fuck, please," Eddie groaned watching you shift, moving so you wiggled your ass in his face, squealing when he cracked a hand down on your cheeks.
"You better ride me good, lil bunny." Eddie warned, gripping your hips. "You want the front page, you better show me how badly you want it."
You giggled, looking over your shoulder, pumping his cock in your hands. "I will, Hef, I promise." You sunk onto him slowly, squeezing his dick the whole way down.
Eddie groaned loudly, grip on your hips tightening when you ground against the hair on his base. "Fuck, fuck, just like that." Eddie groaned when you started circling slowly. You always started slowly like this, working him up before you really rode him.
Then you lifted slowly as you bent forward, gripping Eddie's knees lightly when you lifted off of him, bringing your hips up and down over and over again.
"Fuck bunny, just like that, bounce on my cock, baby. You're just so good aren't you?" Eddie sucked in a breath, hands pulling your cheeks apart so he could get deeper.
The scene in front of him was too much, he was ready to bust already. Your little plug, bouncing and moving, tickling his pelvis with extra deep strokes. Your creamy spend smearing over his cock already, excess from the lube mixing with your slick pussy making the room fill with the squelching sounds. 
You could feel his hips meeting yours, squeezing your ass, stroking your tail and moving it so you'd moan deep. You dipped lower, nearly lying between his legs, crouching so you lifted quickly and deeply.
"Fuck, look at you go." Eddie laughed in between a low growl. "You are my little bunny. My perfect little bunny. You just love bouncin' all over my cock, don't you? You'd bounce for hours for me, wouldn't you?"
You whined, his words making you clamp and gush, his cock brushing the sensitive spot deep inside you with the position. "Yes." You cried out. "'M your bunny."
Eddie grit his teeth, coil in his belly getting tighter and tighter with every pump of you around him. "Fuck, bunny, wait," He huffed, chest heaving. "Turn around f'me, ok? Let me see your pretty face."
You stuttered in movements, pushing up with shaky arms, squeezing with him still inside you. You pulled off just for a moment, adjusting yourself carefully so your legs were on either side of Eddie's hips. You lined him back up inside you, sinking down much faster than you did last time.
Your nails dug into Eddie's inked chest, clawing into him when he gripped your ass, hips thrusting up to meet yours. Your mask and ears were starting to slip, you were sweaty on your hairline under the band of the material, but you didn't care. Your hips lifted, slamming back down on him, pressing into his chest with a cry.
You kept your pace, fast and quick, Eddie's hips meeting yours. "Y'a little jack rabbit for me, huh? Bounce and bounce and bounce, look at you." Eddie cooed nearly mocking through grit teeth.
You whimpered, eyes pinching together. You were so close, the coil in your belly growing and growing. "My little bunny just loves to bounce all over my cock, doesn't she? Just my cock, right?" Eddie growled. You nodded, whimpering. Your thighs burned, but the burning in your belly was worse, hungrier. You slammed faster, desperate to chase that high that you were so close to.
Eddie was close, teetering on the edge, but he wanted you to finish first, you always finished first with him. "Look at me." Eddie grit, hand finding your jaw, holding it lightly. He moved the veil up when your eyes met his, seeing your rounded, desperate eyes, glazed over and nearly teary.
"Y'gonna cum? Cum all over my cock? Yeah? Go ahead, you earned it, bunny." Eddie grunted, lifting his own hips to meet yours, punishing pace meeting yours.
You cried when his calloused thumb circled your clit, nearly falling on top of him with how your legs shook. Eddie held your hips, fucking up into you. He didn't mind the burn forming in his lower back, especially not when he emptied himself in you, warm, thick ropes spurting deep inside of you.
Your chest heaved together, his breath, your exhale, sharp and desperate. It was like you were sharing breaths with each other, and maybe you were. Sticky, sweaty skin, hot and molted together. You slid further into his lap, the top of his thighs, Eddie's hands moving to cradle you instinctively.
Your ears were around your neck, still tied but fallen to hang off your shoulder. Your plug was sticky with his cum when he pulled out, wetting the bottom of the faux fur. Your face was on his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear, his rough hands on your back.
Neither of you spoke for a while. Small shallowed breaths, deep sighs, little groans. You looked up at Eddie, feeling his gaze on the top of your head. His hands untied your ears, unraveling the ribbon so it fell beside you. He grinned down at you.
You blinked up at him, swirling with emotions and warmth. "Did I make the cover, Mr. Hefner?" You grinned.
Eddie snorted a laugh, stretching to grab the developed polaroids on the bed side table. "You sure did, bunny." Eddie smirked, showing a rather vulgar photo of you, arched with the plug in your ass, pussy shining from the flash, and ears high over your ass. "This right here? This one's the cover."
You laughed, pushing up on his chest, moving so you hovered over him. He looked at you, gooey and lovestruck, pushing a hair behind your ear. "Thanks f'dressing up with me." You smiled.
Eddie gawked lightly. "I think I should be thanking you." He chuckled. "Thank you for dressing up for me." You giggled, his lips capturing yours sweetly.
Eddie pulled back, nose to nose with you. You could see his wrinkles, the grey hairs in his temple and in his eyebrows. His skin showing signs of age, freckles from time in the sun. His beard was scruffy, a little longer than usual but trimmed. You ran your hand down it, trailing your thumb over his bottom lip.
"You're my best bunny, you know that?" Eddie whispered.
You pulled back, raising a brow. "Best? I better be your only bunny, Mr. Munson." You looked at him carefully.
Eddie smirked. "So I'm not Mr. Hefner anymore?" He asked playfully. You shook your head. "Good. That motherfucker wasn't nearly as lucky as I am."
You howled in laughter, blushing and rolling your eyes at the cheesy line. Eddie helped remove your plug, cleaning you up gently in the bathroom, soft kisses and little giggles echoed through the space. You pushed the top sheet off, hoisting it to the laundry room to deal with tomorrow, Eddie bringing in two spare blankets from the linen closet.
He smelled like the cigarette he'd been smoking outside, the comforting scent lulling you to sleep, while Eddie snored beside you, arms wrapped around your waist, heavy like weights on you but comforting.
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wandussyfantasy · 8 months
Text
I Can See You
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x G!n Amab Reader
Summary: Wanda Maximoff and Reader are having a relationship in secret in order to appear professional around the other Avengers. But it's not as easy as they thought it would be.
Word Count: 2094
WARNINGS:
18+ ONLY, MINORS DO NOT READ & DO NOT INTERACT!!!
smut, gn!reader amab, powerbottom!wanda, oral, hand job, fingering, sneaking around, dirty talk.
𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓. 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.
You roll your neck to fix the stiffness of it from staring at the screen in the boardroom for over an hour. Wanda watches you from the other side of the room and when you bring your hand up to massage your neck she can’t help but bite her lower lip. She loves your massages. You always make a flirty remark about her magic fingers but she thought yours held a much more satisfying magic than hers. You feel her stare and wink when your eyes meet. Wanda blushes and returns her attention to Steve giving the long briefing. 
“I wish I had Wanda bent over this table with my tongue inside of her,” you think to yourself as you look in Wanda’s direction. By the way she clenches her fist shut, you know that she read your mind. “That’s against the rules, Wanda,” you playfully scold in your mind. Wanda pretends to ignore you which only makes you want to fluster her even more. “Then again, you were never good at following rules… Naughty girl.” You test out but with the lack of authority to your tone it makes her laugh behind her hand.
“Nice one,”  she says back to you. 
Feeling a little embarrassed that the pet name didn't take. You go back to your earlier tactic. “What would you do if I were to touch you now?” She licks her lips and pretends that she didn’t hear that one.  “I could see you up against the wall with me. My fingers inside of you. What would you do if I…”  You smirk as she snaps her pen in half, making the ink fly everywhere. 
She sits up in her seat and unsuccessfully tries not to draw attention as she tries to clean the mess. The others in the meeting look in her direction and Steve is upset by the disruption and stops talking. Tony presses a button and calls in someone to clean the mess and you grab one of the tablets from the charging station and one of the pens that go with it. When the spot on the glass table is cleared, you place it in front of Wanda with the notes app already open. “This is why we have the best technology available to everyone,” Tony says. “Just please, don’t break that one.” Wanda apologizes again and the two of you focus on the meeting until Steve is done. 
Once the group is dispersed Tony comes up to you to tell you that he expects you to join him in helping him, Natasha, and Steve talk to some government officials at an event later. They needed to play nice with them in order to continue to operate with so much red tape but because of the destruction the Avengers continue to cause with their missions it’s gotten increasingly difficult. Especially after what happened in Sokovia. There are rumors that they are trying to make something that prohibits them from operating how they normally do and they want to get ahead of it. Hopefully win over some congressmen to vote in their favor. Natasha is skillful in persuasion, Steve knows how to talk to those who have served in the military and you and Tony know how to talk to people with money. You agree to come along and assure Tony that you’re going to be on your best game and behavior. He smiles and tells you when to be ready. 
You get in the shower and get dressed in a timely manner. When you come out of your room, Wanda brushes past you  in a tight red dress as she adjusts her earrings. “Sorry,” she says as she continues on without looking back at you. 
“Where are you headed?” You ask as you try to catch up with her. 
“Tony said that they need me to read minds,” she explains. “Get a sense of who we’re winning over. But I can’t be seen with any of you. Tony is afraid they will kick everyone if I’m there.” 
“Makes sense, politicians are full of career ending secrets,” you see their point. “Is that why you’re all dolled up?” 
“Yes, and I have to wear some facial disguise for extra measure,” she informs you as the two of you walk into the main area of the compound. “Looks like you have to go,” she points to Steve pacing as he checks his watch with Natasha leaning against the wall bored and Tony pouring himself a drink. “I’ll see you later, but you won’t see me,” she winks. 
“With that dress, I’ll be able to spot you in the crowd,”  you think to yourself and she blushes. “Rules, Wanda.” You playfully remind her. 
“Rules are meant to be broken,” she replies and you smile as you part ways. 
“What’s the hold up! Let’s go,” you clap your hands as you direct the team out of the building. Tony chugs the rest of his drink and returns the glass to the bar as the rest of you leave the compound. 
Once at the event, which is being held at a museum, the four of you go your separate ways to cover the most ground and talk to as many people as possible. You focus on the task and make many people laugh and hopefully help them see your point of view. Express that the Avengers work best when they aren’t tied down to the government's restrictions because the way the bad guys operate, they don’t care for restrictions. Out of the corner of your eye you spot a red dress through every conversation and you know she is watching you. After talking to a very handsy woman who has just come into another great fortune as her third rich husband has just passed, you spot the woman in the redress again, this time she is leading a man away with their hands locked together. You excuse yourself from the woman and follow the red dress. Your heart begins to race from imagining Wanda with some random man, even if it is for a cover. 
Unfortunately, you lose her in the crowd in your search. She had walked through the large hall of the main party. There are many people with their cocktails chatting away while an orchestra entertains them with live music. You go into a sensory overload as your eyes wildly scan the room for her. Trying to figure out the face they gave her for the night. Trying to not imagine another man with his hand between her legs. You adjust your tie and straighten out your suit as you calm yourself down enough to spot the man she led away with her in the crowd all alone. Your body relaxes as relief fills you. She wouldn’t do something like that behind your back. There wasn’t any reason for you to panic. You know. But you don’t like how often they require either of you to flirt with people in order to get information out of them. 
Finally, you see the familiar red dress leaving the hall across the way. You make your exit and find your way around the building until you spot her. You stop when you spot her chatting with the mayor as they admire a sculpture. You pull out your pen and rip out a piece of paper from your leather pocket book and write down an invitation for her. “Meet me tonight,” it says. You fold it up and you make your way towards the two in conversation. 
“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a fan of Clodion, Mayor Fisk” you say to the man as you stand beside him in front of the Intoxication of Wine sculpture. “Y/n Y/l/n,” you grin at the lady beside him and offer her your hand. She takes it with a shy smile as she introduces herself as Ana. 
“You found me,” Wanda’s voice enters your head and you let go of the slip of paper in your hand. 
“I told you that dress is quite unforgettable,” you remind her. You let go of her hand and start to chat more with the mayor. Now that you know what face Wanda has on tonight, you’re able to relax and focus on the task at hand. The night runs smoothly and you’re able to head home around two in the morning. You hated how long those events could run but it was part of the job. 
Once you’re back in the Avengers Compound, you hide around the corner of Wanda’s room and wait for her to return. It’s a few minutes before she finally arrives and she still has her disguise on her face. She shuffles around in her clutch for the keys to her room and once she disappears from your view, you walk towards her room and swiftly enter before she shuts the door. You lock it behind you and a slow smile grows across her face. 
“I have to give a briefing in half an hour,” she tells you. 
“I guess we’ll have to move fast and keep quiet then,” you tell her as you grab her waist and move her against the wall. You turn the disguise off and peel the layer of technology off of her face. “Hey,” you whisper. 
“Hey,” she whispers with a light giggle. 
You put the disguise in your pocket and quickly remove your jacket and toss it to the floor. Wanda pulls you closer to her by your tie. You lift her leg around your hip and roll against her so she can feel how hard you are for her. You kiss her on the lips, humming at the feel of her soft lips against yours. “I thought you didn’t like champagne,” you say as you taste the beverage on her lips. 
“I don’t but Ana does,” she says as she chases your lips. “We don’t have time for small talk,” she reminds you as she reaches down and pulls your zipper down. She pulls your hard cock out of the fly of your pants. She spits in her hand so she can stroke you and you are both turned on and amused by her eagerness. “I have been thinking about you all day. I hate how we have to keep everything professional,” she mutters as you kiss her neck. 
“One day they won’t keep a watchful eye on us,” you say against her collarbone with your fingers pumping in and out of her. When her walls start to grip your fingers tightly, you know that she is close and you pull your fingers out of her and pull her hand off of you. 
You are quick with your penetration, needing to get this done before they send someone to get her so she can give her report. You slam your hips into her roughly, the way she likes it and she is gripping your shirt as she gets closer and closer to the edge. She bites down on your neck when you thrust deeper inside of her, then she places soft kisses along the accidental teeth marks that she left. You continue to fuck her against the wall until her body spasms and twitches against you. 
You pull out of her without finishing and Wanda smiles at you as she falls to her knees in front of you and licks her juices off of your wet cock. You stroke her cheek as she kisses the base of your cock, leaving red lips on the skin. You don’t even think about the mess of red lipstick that you have all over your face and neck. Wanda licks the tip of your penis a couple of times before she takes you into her mouth. She bobs her head back and forth as she tightens her lips around your cock. 
It doesn’t take much longer until you are blowing your load into her mouth. She swallows every last drop and cleans whatever she doesn’t catch with her finger and sucks it off of her finger. You tuck yourself back into your pants and grab your jacket off of the ground. You straighten yourself out and return the disguise device back to her. 
“I might be a little late to the briefing,” you inform her. “I need to clean my face.” 
Wanda rolls her eyes, “Whatever. I’ll see you then.” 
You sneak your way back into your room, satisfied by the successful mission of getting a moment alone with Wanda. You can’t wait to have the chance again. 
The End.
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Text
The Promise of Rubies - A John Shelby/Reader One Shot Story.
This kind of just happened last night, a bit of dark, a lot of fluff. Enjoy, besties.
Tumblr media
(GIF credit - @peakystitches)
Words - 2,956
Warnings - Fluff! Mentions of violence, too.
The horizon bleeds pink into orange, swirling in watercolour as the ink of night begins to dominate, saturating into all that is warm with her cool darkness. The clouds of fluffy white smoke into grey, the evening arriving, the chill whipping against your skin as you stand outside your home, idly smoking a cigarette. No smoking in the house, as per your sister’s rules.  
It’s been just you and her looking after your brood of younger siblings since your mother died and your father hung. A hard life marred with tragedy, but you make no complaint. There are certain ways a poor woman with little in the way of opportunity can make her life better, yours perhaps the most sought after within the slums of Small Heath.
Shagging a Shelby. Many women covert it; few attain.  
It isn’t just sex between you and John any longer, though. At least, you don’t think it is. Surely if it were, you wouldn’t be the refuge he sought in times of crisis, in times where he needs someone to give him the care he usually provides to you. Surely, he’d go elsewhere if you meant so little to him as to solely be a warm hole in which to bury his cock.  
“John?” 
He staggers, his path zig zagging as he moves through the street, hitting the house besides yours, his features scrunched as he grunts in effort. Your heart skips on a beat, realising that he’s hurt beyond a mild beating. “John, Jesus bloody wept, what happened?” 
Casting your cigarette into the gutter, you reach for him, and he slumps against you, his body moulding soft yet heavy against yours.  
“The fucking...” he grits, pulling himself up, face contorted in agony. “The fucking wops. Jumped me, couldn’t get home. Yours was quicker. Fucking... those fucking...” 
Assertiveness kicks in, the same as when you’re dealing with split elbows and grazed knees suffered by your younger brothers and sisters, the protective instinct within your stirred to action. “Okay, don’t talk right now. Let’s get you inside. Come on.” 
Hauling his arm around your shoulders, you pull him towards your front door, burdened beneath his weight, turning to make sure there are no persons of the Italian persuasion around. Him being followed is the very last thing you need. You want to help him, such goes without saying, but if the Changretta’s knew where you lived... heaven help you.  
It isn’t like Jonh is currently in a fit state to assist in fighting them off right now either, and you could do without having to point a gun to anyone’s head. Being in a relationship of sorts with a Shelby means that wielding a weapon simply becomes par for the course. Trust you to fall for a man whose terms and conditions come with the kind of desensitising to violence you never expected to ever partake in.  
“Come on,” you grit, hauling him towards the kitchen table, John heavy against you as you steer him into a seat. “Right, let’s take a look at you. You ain’t been stabbed or shot, have you?” 
He straightens, wincing. “Slashed me, but nah, none of that.” 
You’re involving yourself in unbuttoning his waistcoat and tattered shirt when your sister walks in, the air thickening with immediate effect. “What the bloody hell went on here?” 
You turn your head, scoffing with soft incredulity. “Isn’t that obvious, Ethel?” 
“I don’t want his brand of trouble in my fucking house!” 
“S’alright, Ethel,” he groans, taking a deep breath, wincing again as you gasp upon revealing his banged up ribs. No wonder he can hardly breathe. “I weren’t followed. Wouldn’t have come if I was. Ain’t no fucking way I’m putting you, your sister or the nippers in danger.”  
“You better be sure on that, John Shelby. Because I’ll fucking hang before I let you endanger my family! We’ve already lost mom and dad, for the love of god, we don’t...” 
“Ethel!” you shout, turning to view her. “Leave it alone now. This isn’t the time, alright? Just go to work. The kids are in bed, we’re armed, and he wasn’t followed. It’s fine.”  
Ethel shakes her head, her lips pinching. “The things you’ll put up with for a shag.” 
“As would you if you saw the cock on him,” you fire back, John snorting with laughter despite his state. 
“And here was me thinking it was me raw charm you liked most,” he jokes, laughing all he can.  
“I’ll be back later.” Her frosty statement is followed by her swift exit, the front door slamming shut. You look at John, shaking your head with a soft smile. 
“I do like you for more than your cock, you know.” 
He grins, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting up. Flouting Ethel's rules is one of his favourite pastimes. “Wouldn’t blame you if that was the only thing about me you did like, bab. It’s impressive.”  
Battered six ways to Sunday and still, he’s the cockiest, most arrogant shit of a man you’ve ever met. 
“And the rest of you does come with a certain barrage of shit.” 
A flicker of embarrassment gilds his face in shame, dropping his gaze. “I know, love.”  
Pulling his shirt from him, you study his wounds carefully. Bruised ribs, but his breathing isn’t laboured enough for them to be broken. Cuts and welts to his face, a slash across his upper pectoral leading to the side of his armpit. It could have been a hell of a lot worse.  
Thank fuck Small Heath lads can take a bloody good kicking.  
Stroking his face, your heart flutters when he leans into the cup of your palm, turning his head to kiss the heel of your hand. “Let me get some stuff together, and I’ll get you sorted.”  
His gratitude is delivered in the soft gaze from his steel blue eyes, halting you as you stand, pulling you close. “I’d fucking be lost without you.”  
Of course, he would. It takes a special kind to be with a Shelby, a woman who knows the harder side of life by nature rather than infliction, a woman who accepts that smooth sailing will never come without regular choppy seas, a woman who sees beyond the black clouds for the rays of sunshine.
You think of all of that and more while boiling some water, pouring a splash of TCP into the bowl, a little cold water to follow, taking it back to the table with some cotton to begin cleaning his war wounds.  
“Fucking hell!” he hisses sharply, the sting of the antiseptic meeting the open chest wound too great to merely offer grumbles in response.  
You study the wound closely, knowing that bandaging across his chest will keep it clean, but two places at least are much too deep for the skin to knit together without assistance. “I’ll have to stitch you, John.” Your face is full of lament, squeezing his hand. “Sorry.”  
He sniffs, his shoulders twitching in shrug. “I thought you might. It's alright.”  
A cotton reel and needle are fetched, as well as a bottle of cheap brandy and a couple of glasses. You half fill his, John knocking it back immediately, causing you to reconsider your stance on anything vaguely resembling etiquette and pushing the bottle towards him instead. “Ta, bab.”  
He knocks back the brandy like it's some kind of elixir, and you cannot blame him at all, having to endure the pain of stitches administered by a semi-unskilled hand. Hems and turnups you are adept with; flesh wounds, not so much.  
Pushing the needle into his pale flesh, he hisses a grumble, prompting your lips to press a kiss into the centre of his chest before you continue. Nine stitches close the first of the deepest part of the gash, four to the second, John knocking back the brandy as you knot the thread, cutting the cotton with a sharp knife.  
“There,” you say, sitting back to admire your handiwork. “All sorted.” You notice his skin beaded in sweat, the blood trails bleeding into it, pink pearls of fluid trickling over his chest. “Do you want me to prep you a bath?” 
He shakes his head, placing the brandy bottle down. “Nah, love. You’ve done enough.” He stands slowly, taking the bowl and emptying it before filling it with the remainer of the hot water, washing himself down carefully. Standing, you tip the brandy within your glass down your throat, going to fetch a towel for him.  
“You look like you need to go to bed.”  
Taking the towel from you, he dries his face and chest, nodding. “Probably the best place for me.” Locking the front door, you walk along behind him, hands braced against the wide planes of his bare shoulders, moving to your tiny bedroom. There isn’t much in there, a double bed that takes up most of the room, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe, the spaces between the furniture narrow, John kicking off his boots and the remainder of clothes, wincing in pain as he climbs beneath the covers.  
“I was just about to make some tea,” you state, seating yourself on the edge of the bed. “Only beans on toast, it’s about all we’ve got in. Do you want some?” 
He reaches for your arm, shaking his head. “No ta, sweetheart. I think I just need to sleep it off.” He stares up at you for a few moments and your heart flutters, half with the worry that the wounds that led him to your door could have all too easily been fatal, and half with the absolute beauty of his eyes. You never noticed before, how they exactly match the sunset, smoky blue irises gilded in the golden copper of his lashes, freckled lids that begin growing heavier with every blink.  
Leaning to him, you kiss his lips softly. “Just shout if you need anything, I’ll be downstairs.”  
He’s asleep before you’ve even climbed off the bed, leaving you to wonder just how much he’d had to drink prior to him being jumped. You’ve seen John fight, he’s adept, savage, not the kind of man who would take a kicking lying down. There was bound to be more than one, though, this beating a clear message from the Italians. If they wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have turned up at all. Either that or you’d be walking to the phone box to call Tommy and inform him of John’s demise upon your doorstep, either of the two.  
Putting it to the back of your mind, you go downstairs, searching through your meagre pantry. No beans. Ahhh, yeah. You shared the last tin out between the kids before putting them to bed. You won’t receive your grocery delivery until the day after either, John putting in a standing order he pays for at the corner shop to be delivered twice weekly, so your family never go without.  
Ethel protests it, but often quietens when she sees a bottle of gin just for her there in the box when good ole’ Mr Williams knocks the door with your provisions. Say what you will about John, but he’s thoughtful and makes sure nobody within your household goes without, even if one of those people doesn’t like him much. 
Grabbing the loaf of bread, you think yourself lucky to at least have preserves and butter in good supply, slathering three slices, one plain butter, one with jam and the other with marmalade. You leave that slice until last, the comfort of your mother’s marmalade recipe you’ve finally managed to perfect making you feel warm inside as you sit at the hearth with a strong cup of tea, kicking off your shoes to warm your toes in front of the fire.  
“They’re dangerous lads, but they’re good lads, those Shelby boys.” That’s what she staunchly said of them, always welcoming John with open arms whenever he called to take you out. Him, Tommy and Arthur, they all tried to swing it the other way with the police when your dad was locked up, languishing within the damp, rat-infested surroundings of Winson Green prison. It was sadly to no avail, your father meeting the noose just two weeks after your mother died, her heart giving out on her after a lifetime of suffering with the illness.  
Your heart is now the one that lies damaged, effectively orphaned, caregiver to four small children when you feel like now is the time to be thinking about maybe beginning a family of your own. Your mind turns back to the guest within your bed, smiling as you think of him, wondering what your eventual children will look like.  
You spend a few hours at the fireside, reading a book between bouts of getting lost in thought, wondering if this new trouble with the Italians is going to only lead to further heartbreak for you. Loving a gangster is not an easy path, but you walk it with him all the same. Deciding to head upstairs rather than throw on more kindling, you seek the warmth of his body after you’ve stripped off, pulling your nightgown on and sliding into bed beside him. 
“What you bothered with this thing for?” he mutters, hand reaching to stroke against the winceyette covering your waist.  
“Well, I didn’t think you’d be fit for anything other than sleep, given the fact you turned up four hours ago beaten black and blue,” you state, John nodding. 
“I'm not, but I like the feel of your skin against mine. Get it off.”  
Rolling your eyes, the nightgown is abandoned, settling down at his side again, John grabbing your leg and gently resting it across his thighs. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “It’ll all be alright, you know. In the end. It ain’t alright at the moment, but that’s cos’ it ain’t the end, love.” 
You swear, he can read your mind sometimes, all your little worries you manage to hide. You can never keep them shadowed from John, though. “I know, darling. I know. I accept it, I know I have to harden myself to it all, that it’s the price I pay to love someone as much as I do you. Doesn't make it easy, though.”  
His hand strokes idly at your back, another kiss pressed to your head. “It will be one day, bab. Promise.”  
As you fall asleep beside him, you don’t know if you truly can believe that or not, wondering if you’re cursed to love and lose forever. Many more nights of worry come and go, though, but he still turns up. Sometimes battered, most of the time absolutely fine. The Italian issue gets sorted, and life moves on, until one evening when he fails to turn up at all.  
It would be your birthday, wouldn’t it? He would go missing and thus curse the day forevermore, a day that should be marked with happiness forever blacked out as the day John Shelby failed to knock your front door. Someone else does, though.  
“Come with me, love,” Arthur states, his face blank, tone flat.  
“Why?” you ask, fetching your coat from behind the front door. “Arthur, what’s going on? Why do you look so serious?”  
Your heart begins pounding, the tall, eldest Shelby sibling giving nothing away. “Just come with me.” 
Is this it? Is this the day you’ve been dreading? Surely though, if something had happened, Arthur would just come out and say it, wouldn’t he?  
He would, wouldn’t he?  
You pester him all the way along the walk, out of your street and around the corner, coming onto Watery Lane, the heat from the blast furnaces warming the chill in your cheeks as you pass them by, Okay, so you passed John’s house, too. Can’t be that bad, can it? Surely if he was dead, Arthur would have taken you there to explain?  
“After you.” Holding the door open, he makes a gesture for you to head into The Garrison first, your heart still thumping wildly with nerves, stepping in to the almightiest cheer that makes you jump about a foot out of your skin. Banners and streamers decorate the entire pub, your friends and family all present, John beaming as he walks away from the group of smiling people.  
“Happy birthday, sweetheart” he speaks warmly, pulling you into a huge hug. “Aw, look at her face! Proper got ya, didn’t I?” 
“I thought you were dead! I thought, I though Arthur was bringing me here to give me bad news, and you didn’t turn up, and...” you babble, turning to see Arthur grin. He receives a smack in the chest for his talents in delivering a completely deadpan facade. “You bugger!” 
“I know,” he chuckles, winding his arm around your shoulders and kissing your head. “I’m a fucking rotter, but I was under orders.”  
Your eyes turn back to he who gave the orders, shaking your head. “You’re a bugger too, John Shelby.” 
He raises his eyebrows in acknowledgement. “I know. Hopefully you won’t think I’m one for very long, though.” He reaches into his pocket, removing a small box, taking your hand. Your mouth virtually hits the ground as you watch him lower to one knee before you. “I love you, (Y/N). Always have, always will. Will you marry me?” 
With tears in your eyes, you accept the proposal, and the beautiful ruby and diamond engagement ring, John slipping it onto your finger and kissing your hand as the crowd erupts with cheers, standing to kiss you.  
“Promised you it’d all be okay in the end, didn’t I?” 
Indeed, he did.  
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nrdmssgs · 11 months
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König x tattoo artist reader
Masterlist
This started as a headcannon, but has grown into a brief scenario. There is a bit a of pet play happening down there, but i've tried to keep it light
Once he found out about your job, there is no way back. Man practically begs you to show him any new thing, you're working on. Congratulations, you've got your biggest fan from now on.
In Königs` opinion, not only was he lucky enough to get the best person out there, he was the luckiest one to see how your ideas are born! And he LIVES for that moments.
He sees your projects as something, that should be displayed in a museum.
Yes, Louvre, he is looking at you. It's high time you open new rooms for his Schatzs`* works to be displayed in!
"König, I thought, I threw out that sketch. C`mon, man, it's garbage, nobody needs it!"
"Nein! I'm keeping it! It's mine from now on!"
Secretly keeps a whole pile of scraps of paper, crumpled sheets, napkins you threw away while sketching.
He is interested in your entire creative process: from the first sketches to photo sessions with healed works. Bombards you with questions. "Is there any differences in a result if you draw two same sketches with a pencil and a thin brush?", "What do you like to tattoo the most?", "Where do you draw inspiration from?".
He brings albums with views of the nearest cities and just books with beautiful photographs and reproductions from every airport and train station when he travels (which is really often).
If you had not a huge library of inspirational sources before meeting him... you better buy a few new bookcases.
He never considered getting inked, especially not by you, no... To put your masterpiece on his calloused and scarred skin would be a sacrilegious act. No, he can't even dare to think of it...
Until one day, when he is sitting at your tattoo studio, minding his own business waiting for the end of your working day, like a good boy, when an old customer of yours arrives. You greet them warmly, give them a hug. And you say this one phrase, which is an old and silly joke between you and that customer...
"C`mon, lets get you marked." You say and take the customer to your room.
At this moment, something clicks in Koenig's head.
He tries not to think about it for the next few weeks, but fails. Because when you put it that way... To be marked as yours by your divine art, to wear that traces of your touch for eternity... His heart flips every time this idea reappears in his head.
You notice that lately he is often lost in his thoughts, and a light blush touches his cheeks.
So one of these times, you're having breakfast and can't help but notice that look on his face. "Koenig, are you alright? You look... lost."
"Oh?", he shudders. "No-no, I'm fine, just thinking..."
After some persuasion, you manage to draw out an indistinct "How much do you think it will cost ... to get a tattoo at your place?" out of him.
"It depends on which artist you have in mind... but you know, there are some perks in dating one." And before he is able to process that, you add, "I'm not taking your money, love. Tell me, what was on your mind, what you wanted to see on you?"
His answer was ready long ago. "Anything! As long as it's yours. Anything you could leave on me."
You try to get anything more specific, but he is really happy for any piece, that will remind him constantly, that you are not a figment of his imagination, that you exist, and you want him by your side.
You decide to start with something small, so that he can always cover that, if he feels like it.
Later that week you flip the pages of your album, that you are using just for ideas for his body (as the professional you would never try to convince him to get inked, the decision must be fully his, but nobody can stop you from fantasizing, how could you decorate that gorgeous body of his) in your studio, as he comes.
"Hi there, love. Haven't changed your mind?" you greet and embrace him. He is so excited, he almost shakes. "Nein, Schatz! I would never." he answers, pulling you in a tighter embrace.
So far he is your most trusting and content client. You barely make him look at the sketch after you made its copy on his arm. He wanted the reveal to be a surprise for him after you finish the whole tattoo, but you refused to proceed with the main process without obtaining his consent to this particular idea.
But when he sees the sketch on his skin, the man is speechless. Yes, you were always so very gifted in his eyes, but this... So simple, yet this idea is exactly, what he's been dreaming of. Two words superimposed on each other. Curves of letters, merging into the most intimate sounds that have ever flown from your lips ...
Good thing, he isn't afraid of blood, and has a pretty high pain threshold. So he sits there absolutely still, admiring every second of you working on him.
He is almost afraid to move, he desperately tries to calm his rushing heart down. What you do to him right now is sacred and divine to König. You are leaving your mark and you are not to be interrupted in any way.
So even when a little sweat drop slides down his temple, he doesn't flinch.
You notice it and decide to give the man a break. You give him a towel, pour a glass of water and ask him if it hurts. He tries to answer, but his voice is raspy because of dry throat.
"I-I... khhhmm, I'm fine. Go on, please!"
It's when your gaze slips down his body and you notice it. He enjoys it, he painfully enjoys it.
That's when you put your machine away and lean closer to him.
"I see, someone is having a good time...", you whisper, putting your hand oh sooo close to his hardness. "Looks like a pet just wants to be branded so badly."
Königs face grows bright red. He tries to mask the fever burning under his skin, to not disturb your work, but it is impossible, when you are so close, and you have him completely at your mercy. Your hand is almost touching him. Almost, but not yet. He looks away, embarrassed, aroused, panting. Silently praying for your mercy.
You grin. Poor thing is desperate for your touch in any way. "Now you be good and let me finish this work, ok?"
König nods quickly and covers his erection with the free arm.
"Did I let you hide yourself, pet?" you seem to look in the other direction, but notice his notion and correct him in a flash.
"You will sit here still as I work, you will look at me, and you won't cover yourself unless you're said so", you purr as you continue working.
When you are done, the man is a mess. He is breathless, he can only mumble and curse under his breath. You wipe off blood trails from a fresh tattoo on his arm and lean away to appreciate the result.
It's nothing really fancy, but it is a good start, if he ever decides, he wants more ink (he already has, believe me).
"You like it, love?"
Königs eyes are completely transfixed on your work. He slowly looks up at you. "Schatz... am I dreaming? This is ideal. H-how can I?"
You cut him off: "You'll thank me by caring right for it. No rubbing, no swimming, no touching the bandage till I let you... and no extensive physical activity for you for today. I'll bring you the lotion this evening, so be good and wait for me at home."
He looks at you with the most obedient eyes and just silently nods.
"One last thing." You go behind him, he is still sitting in the chair. You lean towards his ear and whisper, "Don't you dare touch yourself without me. Furthermore, you sit and wait for me." Your hand slides down his torso and his breath hitches. "This is all mine, pet. And now you have a constant reminder of that." 
*Schatz - treasure
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ghuleh-recs · 1 month
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Cardinal Copia had his own Fic Rec Friday and now it’s Popia’s turn. I've compiled a healthy mix of x reader and x ghoul below. A little something for everyone! I may have gotten a little carried away— there's a lot to see here so make good use of your ao3 bookmarks!
Take my hand. Let’s read about the HBIC together. ♡
recs under the cut.
Papa x Reader
Don't Go - @ramblingoak - papa iv x gn!reader
While trying to convince Papa to cancel the tour you end up confessing how you feel about him.
Rough Day - @writingjourney - papa iv x f!reader
papa takes care of you after a rough day.
Your Star Wrapped in My Cloak - @sherwood-forests - papa iv x f!reader
You find Copia in the library, in hopes of apologizing.
VIII Strength - @anamelessfool - gn!reader
VIII STRENGTH Strength (Physical and Will), courage, persuasion, influence, compassion Copia is a pent up sort of man, he always has been. He enjoys being Papa but on his worst days the title has a near physical weight pressed across his shoulders. He comes home to you, and you can tell when it's been one of those days. Luckily, he has you to guide him.
Forbidden Fruit - @ink-and-dagger - papa iv x f!reader
It's a pleasant surprise to stumble upon the newly ordained Papa Emeritus IV browsing through the library stacks. Even more pleasant that he happens to be halfway up a rolling ladder, and wearing one of his sinfully tight suits. What better opportunity to give Copia's cakes the attention they deserve. Or No snakes needed to convince you to take a bite out of this apple.
Forever Yours - @sweatandwoe - papa iv x gn!reader
Ever since you had entered into a relationship with him, you had learned three strict rules about Copia. One, he did not like to be tickled in any situation. Two, he always had to have a drink after sex. Three, the make-up stayed on. The first two were easy to follow but the third though, was getting harder to try not to bend.
Worship - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x transmasc!reader
Tumblr Request: trans!copia worshipping your body after your t shots have had time to work. he understands how to worship your body properly bc he’s been through the transition, he gets it.
on leather wings - @ghostchems - papa iv x f!reader
copia surprises you with a spooky weekend getaway, culminating in some winged bedroom time
Papa IV x Ghouls
tumblr ficlet - @st-danger - papa iv x dewdrop
"Papa," Dew murmurs, and Copia feels a tremor move through him; there's a particular voice Dewdrop uses when he wants something. Silky and dark and slow. A drawl. It's what he's using now, and he hasn't the ability to deny him anything. And if Dewdrop is about to angle for a little action, backstage and hurried with Copia in his papal robes- well. It'd be sinful, of course. And it would be wrong to not take advantage of that, right?
What's My Name? - @copiasjuicebox - papa iv x swiss
"Why don't you ask me how I'm doing?" in which, the audience doesn't refer to Papa as "Papa" and it strikes a chord.
And You Know That It Takes Two - @forlorn-crows - papa iv x dewdrop
“Well, I do. Of course I do,” he assures the ghoul. “Quite fond of you all, actually. It was, admittedly, a little rocky when we first met. But.” There’s that heh Dew was expecting just moments before. “Here we are, no?” When Copia starts rubbing his thumb up and down the inside of his knee, Dew’s brain stops working. His gaze zeros in to the fingers splayed across the side of his thigh, so foreign, so bare, so pink against the black of his casual uniform pants. His mind is full of static and all he can hear is his own blood pumping through his head. But there’s a weird something tugging in his ribcage; something new yet old, unnamed but familiar.
tumblr ficlet - @littlemoon-beam - papa iv x dewdrop
He can't look away from his hands, the way the veins flex under his skin as he expertly plays. Copia hears his own shuddering breath, wishing he could feel them on his skin even if only for a moment. He'd worship every fingertip if given half the chance. What really gets him though, what makes his chest tight and his stomach twist, is when he finishes and smiles, head tilted and eyes bright. "Was that ok, Papa?"
Changing of the Seasons - @kissingghouls - papa iv x cirrus
Cirrus and Copia share an umbrella on a rainy day.
𖤐 you know the drill--bookmark, read, and leave kudos/comments!
Did I forget your favorite? You've got a standing invitation from me to add your own rec and reblog ♡
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klarolineashur1919 · 3 months
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La Tua Cantante Series
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Airpods Save Lives
Demetri Pov
"The meat smells divine today" Felix practically hums out. Whenever the tours came it gave us some kind of excitement. Not that any of us would admit it, we were all so bored. I in a way admired Felix's ability to make excitement from anything even though it could be immature at times. Alec and Jane kept themselves preoccupied in ways that I could tolerate but took years to stomach. I on the otherhand kept myself satisfied with the best thing the world has to offer..women. But even that lately has not had the same effect it usually has for me.
"Hmm" I merely acknowledged until I stopped in my tracks when I smelled the group that was coming. It did smell divine but not how the tours usually smell.
This was different.
It was also extremely overpowering. I wanted to search for and ravish whoever the smell belonged to. Fresh oranges, sweet wine, lavender and ink.
"You can tell someone from this group is rather tasty can't you" Could Felix smell it? Did he feel as I did at this moment? The craving of something unknown. But we were about to find out as the group entered the hall. Me and Felix moved to the side by the assistants desk. The group strolled in with Heidi at the front as usual.
"Demetri" She said sultry trying to get my attention as I didn't even spare her glance worth while. I scanned the group it felt like it went on forever of unwanted faces until my eyes found her.
It was her scent. She wore a orange scented perfume, she just had a glass of wine for lunch, her floral flowy dress was lavender scented from cleaning and she had small smudges of ink on her almost spotless delicate hands.
It all made her so intoxicating.
She was stunning. With her long, slightly wavy blonde hair, blue eyes, and a curvy hourglass figure that was complemented by her slender frame.
"Now she's a tasty little thing" Felix said a little too loud that she had to have heard it but her expression did not change from the somewhat bored one she had. I realized she wasn't in awe nor had the enthusiastic interest that everyone else in the tour group had by Heidi's power of persuasion. Then I watched as her eyes darted to something in the side hallway making her leave the group.
"Well thats rare" Felix somewhat interested in the human making a move in her direction before my arm shot up.
"I got it, I'll meet you in the throne room" Without looking at him I make my way towards her.
I watch her as she is analyzing or I should say scrutinizing the Portrait of a Young Man painting. It wasn't my favorite painting of Raphael's but I didn't think it deserved the amount of scrutiny she was giving it. Her nose scrunched, the lines on her forehead and her eyes almost closed by how hard she was trying to see the even smallest details of the painting.
"Give peace a chance..Let the fear you have fall away" I jumped slightly at the sudden angelic melodic voice that came from her as she stepped back trying to look at it from a different angle. Her hands rested at her bag that laid on her hip preparing to open it. I faked a cough to make my presence known but she did not turn to me as she took her phone out from her purse. I moved towards her quickly taking her phone from her before she was able to take a picture.
"Umm excuse me" She said in a sweet surprised voice as she turned to me. If I had a breath it would have stopped as I looked into her eyes.
They were so blue they reminded me of the Aegean Sea.
They reminded me of a home I once knew and I thought long forgotten.
"What's wrong with your eyes?" She said gently grabbing her phone from my hand. My eyes looked like hers once I think. Now they're not as pretty.
"It's a medical condition...you shouldn't have left the group" She placed her hair behind her ear showing a white plug in it. She took it out.
"Is this real?" She pointed to the painting. She hasn't broken eye contact from me nor my eyes from her. This was quite an anomaly for me.
"Yes what makes you question the authenticity?"I say amused by this creature. I usually take human girls in the privacy of dark corners and be done with it. But her...I wanted to make this last.
"Well for one it's been lost for almost a hundred years, this is a Raphael painting correct?" She says trying to be polite but about to burst from this discovery she found.
"Correct, artist are you?" I said conversational but she precedes to put the plug back in her ear. She turns from me much to my displeasure as I watched her hips start to sway away from me.
"Architect major with an art history minor" She said walking in the opposite direction of where she should be going but stopping in her tracks almost immediately at the next painting. She does the same act as the last much to my amusement. She starts huffing in and out analyzing every detail of the Nativity with St. Francis and St. Lawrence. I make my way over to her. My shoulder an inch from hers as I stood facing the painting as she did. She gives me a side eye understanding I wasn't going to leave her. She goes to her ear pressing on the plugs.
"Is this a replica?" She says now finally suspicious of her surroundings if she wasnt before.
"They're all real...love" I stare down at her as she comes closer to me. Every fiber of my being was restraining myself from ending this. I wanted to relish this, savoring it like one does a fine wine.
"Are you in the mafia?" She whispers and I laugh heartily at the question.
"Now what would give you that idea?" I say coyly as I lean closer to her, my eyes landing on her slender neck. Her pretty little neck.
"Because this painting was supposedly stolen by the mafia" She said matter a factly moving from me realizing how close I was to her. I clenched my jaw at the distance between us. I wanted us closer. I had the feeling even if I skin to skin with her wouldn't be close enough for me. But she seemed absolutely uninterested in me, enamored with what was around her.
"Violet, blue, green, red to keep me at arm's length don't work..You try to push me out..But I just find my way back in...Violet, blue, green, red to keep me out...I win" She gives a mumbled hum of the words not fully singing them out knowing that I'm there close behind. She accepts that fact along with that all the paintings she sees are real. She doesn't analyze them viciously like she did before. Now just taking them in like they should be. But I am analyzing every detail of her. The flutter of her eyelashes, the curve of her hip and the way her hair bounces as she walks. She turns her head to me behind her, giving me an excellence view of her perfectly structured jawline.
"Are you art thieves?" She says innocently genuinely curious. I chuckle at her guess. I look at her ear looking at the plug realizing sound was coming from them.
"What are those things?" She looked at me confused. I lift my hand slowly towards her tapping the back of my finger lightly against one of the plugs.
"Oh..they're airpods" She looked at me like it was the most obvious thing in the world and I had absolutely no idea "they're like earplugs or headphones." I mouthed a little "oh" as she let out a little giggle at my ignorance.
"I'll have to warn Heidi about those" I say more to myself as me and her walked side by side down the hall, further and further away from the throne room. We're getting close to a intersection, one hall leads to a cellar and the other leads to an exit. Decisions...Decisions.
"Was Heidi the lady in charge of the tour?" I simply nod while I think of the fact this girls life is in my hands. Do I truly want to snuff out the sun? I'm quite thoughtful about the decision as I firmly placed my hands behind my back.
"She's kinda an airhead isn't she?" I whip my head towards her uncontrollably crackling at her statement.
"Heidi?" I say absolutely bewildered by the statement. I don't think Heidi has ever been described as an airhead?
"Well I know that is kinda mean. I really am not into girl shaming but..she has all this to show"She twirled around then kept walking "and she said a lot of words with really nothing of substance behind them. I did listen a little to her in and out...I don't know I preferred music over her" My hands tighten behind my back as I stare at her. Her hair when she spun I got a delightful whiff of her shampoo.Citrus. Fresh oranges. Her blood would taste so sweet.
"Like this castle has to be from the 12th century-" She looked at me curiously as I stared at her clavicle. That would be a wonderful place to take a first bite.
"11th" I muttered out. We made it to the intersection, cellar for a drink or exit for her life.
"Oh" She tilted her head up to the ceiling an spun slowly on her heel around "I can picture that..there is some roman designs" She smiled to herself. Her eyes sparkled. It's funny I lived in this castle going on a thousand years and always found it a dull place mostly except when we used to have parties. But in one day she saw the beauty in it.
"Are you a lover of Artemisia Gentileschi?" I asked as she was about to turn down the hallway to the cellar, stopped to look at me.
"Yes...why?" She smirked cutely. I smile at her for giving me that answer. I take her hand in mine and lead her through the hallway with the exit.
"Hey how do I know you're not taking me in some dark room to have your way with me" She said half jokingly. I just smirk to myself. She would be so delicious but for some reason it seems like it would be a waste. It wouldn't even be a minute before her life would be gone and she would be gone. Her beauty, her smile, her voice..everything about her I could just take in an instant if I chose to.
"Your hand is so cold" She did a little tug on it. I turn to her and say nothing. I stare in her eyes for a moment and she looks at me amused.
"So if I'm ever found alive and they ask me the name of the assailant, what should I tell them?" I winced as she dropped her hand from mine before the question. I wanted her to touch me.
"Demetri"I slowly drawl out "And when I see your face on the news what name will I see?"
"Nina" It almost came out as a whisper but I heard it. As I also could hear the screams start but she didn't seem to hear them.
"Here we are" I stop in front of our designated painting and she started to laugh at it. The Madonna and the child was one of our many Artemisia Gentileschi paintings but Jane had all of her famous ones on the other side of the castle that was where I didnt want her to be.
"Really out of her paintings this is the one you have?" She giggles as I just look down at my shoes like a boy. She does stop giggling to appreciate the painting eventually.
"She looks so tired" She says more to herself than to me. Then I really look at the painting myself to see what she means. I see it too in the mother's eyes. I never noticed that before probably never cared. I watch her as she looks over the painting really taking in ever detail of it.
"You should paint me it would last longer" I look down again with a smirk.
"Can I?" I say more flirting than serious. She turns to me blushing and my smirk deepens.
"What am I going to be your Rose to you Jack?" She leans closer to me making start to tense even though I was taken back by the reference. I need to brush up on current entertainment.
"Ahh-" I freeze as I can sense someone coming.
I look behind me seeing the reason why we're here..the exit.
I take her hand and hurry her to the door. We go down stairs and stairs. I have to be mindful of my speed seeing I had to keep a human one. Something came over me that I had to get her out that was my only thought at this moment.
"Where are we going?" But her question is answered when I open a door to the outside practically throwing her out. Then the sun light making me step back into the darkness.
"Wait" She places her hand on the door before I close it and I didn't want to hurt her.
"Will I see you again?" She almost whines out.
"Yes but don't come back here..meet me at the front of the clock tower at night fall...goodbye" I said it quickly as I slowly closing the door.
"Goodbye" I heard quietly right before the door closed. I regretted how it ended but there was reasoning behind the abrupt departing.
"Well this is quite unusual behavior...for you" Felix leaned against the wall at the top of the stairs.
"The girl didn't hear or see anything, no laws were broken" I say stiffly making my way past him.
"That may be but the why is what I'm curious about" he hanged his head over my shoulder mischievously. He wasn't going to let this go.
"It just felt like a waste" I shrug looking almost dazed not wanting to think what I had just done and the why.
"A waste...yes a waste of food. Bloody Demetri if you didn't want her you could've given her to me. But Im surprised why didnt you want her?"He was going to nag and nag until he got an answer to his liking.
"I wanted her...but it just felt as it would have been to quick" This was making me nervous. I haven't felt nervous since the incident with the Cullens. But this was a different kind of nervous, I was worried for her.
"Fine then I'll meet her later at the clock tower-" If on instinct I slammed Felix against the wall my hand around his throat.
"She's mine...I'll take care of it" I shove him back stalking away.
She was mine.
I hated to admit it but I knew it to be true.
She is my cantante.
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throwaway-yandere · 2 years
Text
"Careful, He Bites." (Yandere!Kamisato Ayato/Reader)
A/n: Here ya go @busy-dadzawa-fish! I mean, this fic is technically a cat!ayato but, e h e. I hesitated on posting this tbh. Soldier, Poet, King seemed so light-hearted and nearly wholesome (especially Childe's POV), so I wanted to write a yandere story that had more of the Yan elements and not the Dere. (I also added a few details to make everyone miserable cause I need the s p i c e.) If you want a fluffy cat story please send another request! I'd be happy to do it! I promised I won't write some messed-up stuff lmao (I swear I'm not sadistic).
Unreliable synopsis: Cat ayato. But heavily based on nekomata myths and I've taken some major liberties after reading yokai.com over and over again--.
Cw: Yandere! Ayato. Signs of abuse. (Technically) Cannibalism. Japanese folklore in a modern setting. I doubt my writing is graphic and disturbing enough but if you find these topics sensitive please don't read the fic. Your mental health matters more, you matter more than some fic, kay? Please reach out if you are a victim of abuse.
Extra:
Itto's Side Story (happens before this fic)
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It's raining, and it's cold tonight.
The white cat's ears drooped. It wasn't fond of the rain. The rain often smeared the paws of its feet like spilled cyan ink. It didn't like how the mud sticks to its fur. The sound of raindrops wasn't all that pleasant for its ears either, especially when the place made it sound too loud for comfort.
Traveler...
The cat spoke in purrs. Not long ago, it broke free of its cage to pursue its beloved human. The human traveled a lot, but she was unable to take the cat with her. Unlike her, the cat cannot escape from its stifling responsibilities. It may provide the best services a domesticated cat could offer, but its heart ached for more. "A day in the life of a traveler" interested the cat, who wanted to know what it meant. The cat wished to know what "a day in the life of a traveler" meant. Her spirit was as free as the petals that travel into the wind, and the cat wanted to be blown away towards the path she threaded.
However, as expected, it only led the cat to an uncomfortable position. There is no shelter to be had in these half-abandoned urban streets. Barely any establishments considered adding covers above their sidewalks, instead, the only shade it could crawl under would be underneath the air conditioners.
It whined quietly. 
The only place which had a roof was the flower shop.
And it's the one place where it was told not to go to.
The "Sakura Bloom Flower Shop" stands out in its vibrant green and pink paint in contrast to the shallow and dilapidated stores around it. Not only does it outperform the competition in terms of appeal, but the floral scent also drowned out the smell of damp cement and trampled dirt. These two sensory factors were more persuasive than a sign or an advertisement, and the cat longed to enter. Depending on one's mood, this proud store amongst the rundown town could either bring hope or annoyance.
It heard a chime and looked up to see someone smiling.
... The cat seems to know you.
"Pssst, pssst. Come inside, little one." You called out with the door open. Raindrops began to move in splotches towards the store's entrance. You continued speaking under the assumption that it could understand you. "It's cold outside, is it not? Come, take shelter from the rain for the time being. Inside is warm, and I would not offer this if it were otherwise colder."
The feline arched its head. Your accent was quite a surprise to hear, especially in this area, and you pronounce words distinctly familiar to the Kansai dialect. Perhaps you were a village human who moved into the city-- judging how you managed the flower shop, it's easy to assume you worked the land as well.
... It wouldn't hurt to enter, right?
The cat reluctantly stepped inside.
You were an honest human. Your store was as warm as you made it out to be. It looked around and noticed a red beckoning cat figurine sitting on your counter instead of the usual gold one. Why would you bring a red maneki-neko to a store when gold figurines are typically considered charms for prosperous business?
"H-Here."
You gently placed a towel beside the cat. It stared, wondering why you wouldn't help the animal dry off and only observed it from afar.  
Even so, it appreciates your generosity. When it was smaller, humans refused to offer assistance to the cat since they believed white-furred cats harnessed the moon's spiritual energy for malicious intent. Humans are foolish most times, and perhaps it's biased to say you're not as bad--
The cat sneezed.
It was ashamed. Just right after you let it inside your cozy place, its body immediately did something involuntarily humiliating. It hoped that you wouldn't mind.
Instead, you covered your nose, mildly petrified. 
The cat shrank back. 
Oh no. Please don't kick it out. 
Did it just mess everything up?
It closed its eyes before you pulled something out of your bag.
The store bell rang once more.
"There you are, Himegimi."
A light-haired man entered the establishment. He shook and cast his soaked umbrella aside. You immediately recognized him upon first glance and gave him a shy wave, which he vaguely reciprocated. His eyes preyed on the cat that eased itself into the corner. 
His smile did not reach his eyes. 
"I've been looking everywhere for you, and this is where you chose to stay? After I told you to stay put?"
"G-Good evening, Ayato." You sniffed.
Like a mother dragging her kittens along, Kamisato Ayato scooped up the cat by the nape of its neck. You raised an eyebrow. You may be allergic, but you spent enough of your free time watching cat videos to know that that probably isn't the safest way to pick up a feline.
The cat went limp.
There is an array of things you didn't know about the "man" and his "pet" before you, and Ayato would most prefer for that to remain unchanged. He adores your naivety, and he will use it to his full advantage.
Nothing good will occur if you noticed the two anomalies behind his back. What you don't know can't hurt you.
"Allow me to extend my sincerest apologies, (Y/n)." His hand was elevated higher, and his eyes peered deeply into the cat's conscience. The cat dodged Ayato's cold glare as its small paws quivered a little.
The cat observed that you were carrying some tablets and tissue sheets after being raised higher. The cat was a little relieved because it had assumed you were bringing out a spray to scare it away before. Its anxieties didn't make sense. No kind human would shun a cat for sneezing.
"I didn't know my cat entered your establishment."
"T-This is your cat? A-Ah don't worry about it, Ayato." You laughed while dabbing a tissue on your runny nose. "The c-cah-cat isn't shedding, a-anyways. Your cat is well behaved, it's most definitely alright." 
"Oh no, I'll be sure she'll be on her best behavior from now on."
The small cat's eyes widened as it peered up at what was above your counter. A kagura bell wand was neatly tucked inside a wooden box. Based on how it was carelessly positioned on a table, you probably did not know about the catalyst's importance. You weren't aware it was a catalyst in the first place. 
Ayato hadn't noticed the bell yet and cooed. "This is no good. You're already having an allergic reaction."
You smiled softly back at the cat as if its presence was no danger to your wellbeing. 
You're allergic to cats? And you still let it inside?
Ayato pinched his nose and sighed. Someday, your indiscriminate kindness might kill you. "Seriously, (Y/N), I appreciate what you've done for this Himegimi but you ought to stop taking care of whatever poor animal you see. You didn't exactly win the genetic, err, bingo."
The cat, 'Himegimi', opened her mouth. Oh. That must be the reason why you had a red beckoning cat figurine instead. Prayers for good health matter more than gold.
"I took some antihistamines before I let it in, worry not." You folded the napkin nicely and threw it in the nearby trash can. Nobody commented on the large number of tissues hidden beneath the empty potato chip bag.
"In fact, I... feel rather drowsy at the moment because of it. Her name is Himegimi, right? Sorry, I must've mistaken that your cat was a boy. You spoke of it like it was handsome and elegant. I've forgotten that those words can complement a little princess."
Ayato smiled and his cheeks flared up. 
Handsome and Elegant.
"I have two cats... 'Yashiro' is my other cat. Is he not handsome?"
You chuckled and joked. "I cannot say. I've never met him."
Well, he's standing right in front of you.
"–I was not remotely aware you own two pets. You only ever talk about Yashi so quite the favoritism you have here. No wonder she ran away from home. Had my clan not been burdened with this illness I would've taken her in." You continued half-jokingly while averting your eyes. For someone who owns not one but two cats, you questioned how great of an owner Ayato is when he grabbed Himegimi by the nape moments ago.
Especially when Himegimi entered the store, limping.
He brought the cat closer to his face. Ayato nearly forgot "Himegimi" is hanging by his fingers.
Ayato deadpanned. "I'm actually a dog person."
"Sure. Cause you definitely smell like a dog person." You laughed again. Ayato grinned. He could never get enough of hearing that.
Ayato suddenly frowned. 
"But truly, (Y/n), I'm worried at how easily you animals and people things in. You know what happened to Kokomi."
"I'll be fine."
"You don't know that--"
"As I said," you rubbed the back of his unoccupied palm. "I'll be fine. You worry too much, Ayato."
It's a shame that these affectionate gestures are an expensive luxury. Every time you and Ayato shared a room you are required to take an allergy shot to ease some rashes since he's a self-proclaimed cat lover and he can't remove fur from his clothes no matter how hard he washes them. It's almost like he produces cat allergens himself. You teased about it before but he only gazed at you with glossy eyes. 
Ayato's breath hitched. Your hands. He never would've imagined it would be this warm. His face was heavy and overwhelmed, it was on the verge of melting away at any second. Your touch was incredibly delicate.
He wants to scratch and rip it to pieces–
Your gentle voice snapped him out of his trance. "If anything, I'm a bit embarrassed I cannot offer you anything for dinner. What I cooked tonight isn't the most palatable..."
Ayato hurriedly gulped and hoped that you haven't noticed that his human palms were sweating. He wished you wouldn't see past his platonic concern and notice his attraction towards you.
He looked up, tense. "Your signature too-salty ramen?"
You nodded bitterly.
Ayato slightly shrugged while he abruptly pulled his hand away. "I hate to brag but I'm a worse cook than you are."
The cat tilted her chin up and stared blankly at him. If he knew about his skills then he should stop forcing her and Thoma to play hotpot. 
"You sounded just like Itto." You shook your head.
The cat blinked.
Itto?
You sighed. "I suppose I'll act like Sara and insist that we should strive to be better at cooking instead."
"I doubt Ei and Miko were pleased to hear her lectures. Act like her and I'll be the same as them. You're better off being yourself. I like you for who you are." Ayato answered the last part earnestly, making you flustered over his shift in tone.
The cat's interest peaked. You naturally encountered a hinnagami, a kitsune, a tengu, and an oni? At this rate, you're most likely an onmyouji or at least someone who has the potential to become one. Onmyoujis can conjure divinations, therefore their fates are intertwined with the supernatural. No ordinary human would encounter yokai as though it's an everyday occurrence. Do you own a kagura bell wand for that reason?
Ayato noticed the cat staring at the table and their train of thought became one and the same. He grimaced.
"Why do you have that?"
Given that it is allegedly unusual for a florist to obtain a wand, the more reasonable queries would have been "where" or "how" did you get that, but Ayato panicked. Fortunately, you didn't seem to mind his somewhat insensitive question.
"Ah, this?" You unceremoniously picked up the bell. The bells chimed a melancholic tone as you shook them lightly.
The two flinched at the sound. The cat squeaked in pain before Ayato covered its mouth. 
"Yae gave it to me. She said it would help me dispel wraiths and unwanted yokai. I don't know where she gets such unfounded ideas, but I suppose her eccentric nature is part of her charm."
His elegant demeanor shattered. Ayato's hand slammed down the table while his knees bent back.
"T-That damn fox...!" Ayato's husky and frail voice spat at the bell in your hand.
Whoever gave that to you knows what they were doing. No ordinary human can use the bell as a catalyst. What on earth is that shrine maiden trying to accomplish?! He had suspicions that you're an onmyouji diviner and this confirmed it.
The best and worst part is that you still haven't noticed it yet.
You hummed. "Sorry, did you say something?"
"P-Put that down first." 
You flinched and did as commanded. "A-are you alright, Ayato? You sound ill."
Ayato whimpered and bit down his lip. Just hearing the bell drained him a month's worth of energy. Ayato needs to be fed. He paused and pondered over how he should react until he felt the cat yanking his shoulder.
Right, the "cats".
He grabbed the cat once more and gently patted her head. 
"I-I'm sorry, (Y/n). I have to go. I forgot the cats haven't eaten dinner yet." 
You pouted. "You look under the weather, my friend. Why don't you stay here a little wh--"
"I'm hungry."
He gritted his teeth and offered another cheap smile. It hurts for him to say it, but he needs to decline your offer.
"I'm very hungry."
Your will to look after him deterred. Your too-salty ramen isn't the best way to sate his and his cats' hunger, albeit it would probably give them health complications. Unbeknownst to you, that isn't what Ayato was worried about. You chuckled nervously.
"Understood." You opened the door and helped him carry his umbrella.
"Enjoy your dinner!"
Ayato grinned. "Y-You too!" 
You're so sweet. You didn't need to say it. He will. And he's growing impatient.
Especially when the cat dragged in quite a generously sizeable meal.
--------------
It's raining outside.
Shikanoin Heizou hated the rain.
Everything that happened in his life that was incredibly unlucky did so while it rained. When he said goodbye to his business partner Sango, it started to rain. When his companion admitted to being a phony, it started to rain.
And as his main suspect bashed him in the head from behind, it started to rain.
But it didn't rain when he first woke up inside a cramped cage. Perhaps the blow was harder than he thought because Heizou mistook the sounds he heard for drizzles. Reality was far crueler, however.
What woke him up was the echoing blood that dropped from hanged dissevered limbs.
Uncharacteristically, aspiring Detective Heizou did not jump for clues, instead, his attention was locked on the petrified girl beside him. He nearly failed to identify her.
So much had been deprived. Her commercial mermaid appearance aged to reflect a traditional deep sea siren, with gills and scales ripped apart. There was no vitality left in Sangonomiya Kokomi. His mind was plagued by the sight of her emaciated cheeks and fish-like eyes. Now, she looked like the shell of her former self. 
Kokomi was trapped in this eerie basement before Heizou arrived. She was exceedingly popular, especially among varsity men who applaud her sports tactics. Her connections don't matter anymore. Nobody will come. The sharp, burning sensation where her leg used to be is a painful reminder of that. Only false hope and confidence held her bones together.
At least when Heizou gazed away, the strong fragrance of wisteria drowned her amputated leg's foul odor. Your flowers smelled better than oxygenated blood. Heizou is unsure of whether he should consider that luck. He won't focus his senses with more forebodings of death. When Heizou saw a blue eyeball roll to the other side of the room after the corpse failed to keep it intact, he knew Kokomi didn't come without a friend.
It doesn't take a genius to piece out that the half-eaten limbs dripping down the table were Gorou's. He simply didn't dare to ask about the victim and culprit. And even if he did, he doubt Kokomi would give him an answer the great detective didn't already know.
They both sat motionless. They had no idea that their final moments would be spent together confined in a small dog cage. Gingerly, his stick fingers ran through her scalp while she rested on his shoulder. Kokomi's blood trickled down his pants, but he pretended not to feel it.  The dying girl felt relief under his tender touch. They had no sense of time, yet they still awaited this hard day's end. And Kokomi, hoarse and frail as her voice already is, spoke of the future brightly.
"This is not so bad..." Kokomi leaned her weight more on Heizou's arm. Her breathing is slow and far from deep, and her forceful grip on Heizou's arm grazed like a feather's. "Take heart... With (Y/n)'s flowers... We'll have a peaceful..." It pained for her to speak, so Heizou didn't let her finish.
Even in such a moment of despair, Kokomi still thought of her best friend with great endearment.
You have great friends.
You had great friends.
Bile rose to his throat. He lacked the courage to counter that his intuition screamed otherwise. Heizou, a criminal justice student, hoped he could strangle her to give her the sweet release of death. But to his anguish and relief, there was no need to taint his hands, and blood loss caught up to her like a broken hourglass.
Miss Sangonomiya Kokomi was gone. The future she predicted never came. And surely, her family would grieve for their daughter and her varsity team will miss their manager.
".... Man alive." He uttered his catchphrase. It was painfully ironic.
Heizou cradled her corpse for hours, denying the facts for his sanity. She was cold and damp. The stains in his pants reached oxidation until she also stopped bleeding out. The cage had never felt smaller and claustrophobic.
He waited for something to kill him. He waited for his turn.
And then he heard screaming from upstairs.
"I don't have to explain every little thing, Ayaka! You're old enough to know that you should just listen-- If you would JUST listen!" 
Heizou chuckled lifelessly. The voice belonged to Kamisato Ayato. Who else would it be?
It's regrettable that Heizou stepped right into his trap rather than catching his suspect. Heizou had suspicions about the individual because he had no presence in public records or social media, yet Kamisato Ayato appeared right at home within the campus' crowd. Heizou's intuition never lied.
But he didn't expect that his target was a yokai.
Heizou had a gut feeling, yet he willfully ignored it. The urge to devour human meat does not come naturally from sane people, but the same cannot be said for the supernatural. He initially thought you were responsible for the disappearances. The majority of the victims, including Gorou and Kokomi, who went missing were from your friend circle. But you were allergic to cats, Heizou saw your reactions first hand, and the pieces of evidence were usually embedded with--
The door to the basement opened. 
Ayato emerged from the shadows and dropped a white-haired cat without consideration. His volume was lower as he spoke. "Fine. If I must spell everything out for you, I will." 
Cat hair.
Heizou curiously watched the cat-- the bakeneko-- shudder in fear as her brother untactfully dragged something heavy across the floor. Ayato didn't seem to notice that Heizou was awake or that Kokomi had died. He didn't even care about the half-eaten Gorou sloppily decaying on his table. His human fingers were far more occupied wrapping around another deceased woman's high ponytail. 
The victim had blue-gray eyes underneath her light blue bangs. Heizou had never seen that woman on campus or in the basement before. The woman appeared to be younger than them-- likely a senior high school girl. Her girlish red ribbons gave it away. Her appearance is uncannily similar to Ayato's. One thing to note was that nekomatas can take the appearance of their former masters. And Heizou had a bad feeling that Ayato stole her brother's identity.
"Right after you eat."
He threw the corpse in front of the cat.
The cat, Himegimi or more truthfully "Kamisato Ayaka", breathed in sharply.
This was the second time her brother offered a woman's corpse. It wasn't as if bakenekos and nekomatas are unable to digest what regular cats eat. Her brother invites her to partake in human flesh, if only so that she will be able to shape-shift into one more easily. Ayaka is not particularly talented in transfiguration, it would take years to master without the proper diet. And this was the solution her brother offered. 
Human corpses.
"Don't worry, she was already dead when I found her."
Heizou and Ayaka didn't question him. The corpse was littered with month-old scars, and in the dark, their skin appeared discolored. Heizou assumed the woman had drowned, and Ayato had gone to retrieve her shortly after she died.
That was a scene Ayato liked. He grinned broadly when he observed the woman fumbling about in the hope that the boy on the bridge would reach for her hand. But honestly, was he ever obliged to set free what is essentially a great opportunity?
Based on her body's bruises, the deceased must've handled her brother's disappearance poorly. It must've been incredibly painful for her to see her missing brother in her final moments.  
If Ayaka could just master taking this woman's form, then they could abandon their yokai lives. They could live their lives as human siblings, and no one would bat an eye. If she could just do what she was been told, then Ayato would've had you in his arms.
The two yokai jolted as they heard Heizou banging inside his small cage.
"YOU BASTARD!!!"
Heizou screamed, raspy and full of hatred. It was all he can do. However, his emotions were foreign to them, and they did not reach yokai. The nekomata laughed.
"Ah, so you're finally awake. How marvelous. A pleasant evening to you, Detective Heizou." He replied sardonically. "Hah. From detective... to victim."
Heizou bit his tongue and let his anger simmer. There is nothing he can rebut with when the truth hurts more. Shikanoin Heizou ceased speaking for the remainder of the evening, for now.
Ayato caught a glimpse at the body beside him. "Hmm. It appears that she's already spoiled. Pity. I would've saved this woman from drowning if you just ate Miss Sangonomiya, my dearest sister. Wasting food... I'm almost sure that human mothers give punishment for that."
Ayaka gulped as she relives the pain of kneeling on salt in her most excruciating memories.
A bakeneko living with her nekomata sibling is torture.
He is doing this out of love. He would not be infuriated if that wasn't the case. This was the norm of their family's culture. Kamisato Ayato would not let two innocent women die if he didn't love his stupid, weak, little bakeneko sister.
He hissed. He did not like the pathetic look on her face.
Kamisato Ayato was normally not akin to a savage beast. He believes that he and his sister must carry themselves with elegance at all times, even when their actions are deemed immoral. When partaking in human flesh, he cuts and boils them into a nice pot with his handpicked eccentric seasonings. He refuses to eat until his friend Thoma had tenderized their meat and had their bones discarded. But he had grown hungry and impatient. 
After you carelessly chimed the kagura bells, Kamisato Ayato had grown more restless.
Everything that went down tonight is your fault.
"Did you not wish to walk at her pace? Did you not long to run and bury your head on top of that dandelion human's shoulder? Did you not wish to travel alongside her?"
She is aware that her brother is distorting events to make it appear as though she was the one who yearned to be a human. Because the love of his life, you, cannot survive around animals like her, Ayato took the whole truth and poured some out. She is a liability as a bakeneko, after all, and yet...
Ayaka sobbed. She sobbed because she knew the answers to these questions. She sobbed because she knew the lengths she would go through for her favorite human as well.
And she was repulsed by the whole truth.
Ayato violently grabbed his sister's face. Her snot ran down his palm whilst he pinched her mouth open. 
Ayaka resigned to her fate.
"You want to see Lumine again, don't you?"
... Yes.
"Then eat."
And she took a bite.
It's a major shame, truly, that Kamisato Ayaka never found out that the dandelion human was her brother's first meal.
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