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bleedingspades · 1 year

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Moon Spell

Dabi x afab reader (unedited)

Much longer then expected so expect a part 2! Warning: mentions of murder, swearing, and spoilers regarding Dabi’s origin

If there is one thing Touya yearns for, it’s being seen truly seen. He never found that in his father despite becoming one of the most wanted criminals and telling the world who he is. He was still invisible.

Then there was you. You’d just closed up your coffee shop for the night in your small little village. You’d heard a little bit about the big fight between heroes and villains but you don’t pay mind to the news. You specifically choose a simple slide phone to avoid social media.

You like the peace of your simple yet humble life. Holding the paper bag of left over baked goods that didn’t get sold, you’ll have some for a snack tonight and breakfast tomorrow. Your home is a bit of a walk away from the village. You enjoy the night sky to yourself.

That is until you see a tousle of white hair atop a scarred body doing something near the ditch up ahead. Huh? Nobody else lives out here but you. Not since that weird religious group mysteriously disappeared. Their home has been vacant. Maybe someone finally moved in, since your moving past that area you assume the stranger is from that way.

He seems to be looking for something. You swear stranger danger means nothing to you as you approach moving your hand into your pocket to pull out your mini flashlight.

However the stranger is swift to pin you (hard) down to the dirt road and hold your hand with the flashlight above your head. Pinning the rest of you down, yet you’re not scared. You laugh shyly as your lewd mind drifts to places as you notice how handsome he actually is.

He’s got a lot of burns but they entice you. You’ve never trusted someone who has no scars or marks. Perfect people you stay wary of.

“I’m sorry for startling you, but I couldn’t help but notice you were looking for something…so I brought you my flashlight. In hindsight I should’ve said something.” You mutter, embarrassed at yourself. He gazes at you with a dull yet suspicious gaze.

He smells burned but it reminds you of burned popcorn which you love soo.

“You’re stupid. What if I kill you right now.” He says. His voice low and slightly scratchy. He seems worn out a bit and definitely healing from some recent burns. Does his quirk hurt him? You wonder to yourself before thinking of your answer. You look up, thinking with a hum.

“Well then I guess I die, at least it’d be because i was doing something nice and slightly foolish and my killer would be attractive. I mean I couldn’t imagine being killed by someone who’s gross and slimy or something.” You say. Still unafraid, not one ounce of fear.

He makes a confused look and scoffs. His gaze turns to the side. You follow, your eyes land where his are. Your baked goods. Thank goodness you put them in sealed containers or they’d definitely be ruined. You hear a stomach growl.

“If you’re hungry you can have some, though it’d be hard to eat holding me down like this.” You say, pain starting to course from your wrist and the places that took the most impact from when you fell. His grip gets tighter and very hot, but not so much it burns you.

“Idiot girl, I should burn you up, so I can enjoy something tonight. Your screams of agony would be pretty exciting.”

“Are you trying to scare me or something?” You ask, fully serious. His evil smirk he had falls and is replaced with a incredulous expression. With your free hand you lift it to gently touch his face, his skin grows hot immediately as a defense but you use your quirk. An opalescent glow spreads over his skin and you can hear things healing slightly. Unfortunately though your power is based off of moonlight and since there’s none tonight to supply you with energy you feel yourself be drawn to sleep.

“I hope this helps, uhm place me in the ditch to sleep *yawn* I should be fine there…my *yawn* what was I saying? Oh and…help..yourself to the …treats.” And you’re out like a light.

Dabi stares at your peaceful sleeping figure on the ground. Your soft pink hair pooling around your head and shoulders. His recent burns have fully healed. The areas tingle with a cooling sensation. What were you going to say. Whatever who cares.

You were really not afraid of him at all? How could you not know who he is. If you do, then are you a fan of the league? No since you mentioned you’d be fine dying doing a decent thing. And you fucking think he’s handsome? You’re definitely fucked in the head.

Walking over to the bag he grabs one of the containers and opens it. A small little cheese cake with strawberries somehow still perfectly atop the mini cheese cake. He eats it whole and looks back to you. He begins to walk away.

However, if you healed him you could probably heal Tomura. Grunting in annoyance he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You don’t budge an inch. That must have really exhausted you. Taking your flashlight he finds his phone that he dropped earlier and glances at the treats.

Arriving at the hideout Dabi through a you on the sofa. Putting the bag of baked goods on the table he opens another box the biggest of all. He freezes for a moment, it’s a cake. It reads “happy birthday to me :(“. Despite the cake being a bit disfigured now probably from being thrown to the ground. It’s your birthday today? He looks over to you. He takes note of the deep set bags under your eyes. There’s an aura around you. You’re lonely, the deepest kind of loneliness. The kind Dabi has undergone his whole existence.

He debates killing you because he’s terrified of this feeling bubbling deep within his hate filled rotted heart. The way you stared at him earlier. Like you would gaze at a beautiful flower. You weren’t seeing Dabi, you were seeing Touya, the real Touya. That’s dangerous. You should watch yourself, if you look at him like that again he’ll burn you to a crisp.

You stir a little, you have a massive headache and your wrist stings, why!? You panic slightly but remember what happened. With your eyes still closed you notice immediately you’re not at home and you’re not outside.

Which means the stranger kidnapped your or someone else did however the ladder is unlikely considering it’s an unpopulated area. You feel leather beneath you so you assume you’re on a couch. A torn up one. But it smells like burned popcorn. So he did take you somewhere.

No doubt the abandoned mansion. You don’t hear anything around you so you peak open an eye. The cost is clear. Thankfully the curtains are closed cause the sunlight would not be welcome with your head blasting the way it is.

You sit up, there’s really nobody in here. You should probably try to escape but you honestly don’t want to. Aside from your daily costumers who’re all elderly folks and the married couples who mostly talk to each other you’re always..alone. So despite the rational decision you should make. You go to the door to find him.

Walking around the building it looks suspicious. Like some fight happened here or something. You’re hoping he’s ok. Despite the battle marks looking kinda old now. Thinking of him excites you immensely. If you were dumber then you are now you’d say it’s something like love at first sight. His hair reminds you of the moon, and you love the moon.

His eyes are like the day sky but they shine much brighter and more blue. You feel your cheeks heat up at the thought of him. Oh no if you don’t stop they’ll come out! You reach a hand to the top of your head and one to your lower spine. Ok your good nothing is there.

However you’re still low on moon energy so you’re getting pretty tired of walking around. Scrunching up your nose in frustration you decided on a different way to find him.

“HELLO! STRANGER WHO MAN HANDLED ME WHERE ARE YOU?” You yell to the top of your lungs. And maybe it’s the fact this place reminds you of a haunted mansion but when you see something green flash way down the hall (with no windows) a chill runs down your spine and you run back to the room.

You’re grandma used to tell you the worst ghosts are green. Really random but yeah. You’re not really scared of ghost but you don’t want to be possessed. You go to the window and open it. Maybe some light will actually be better. Unfortunately you forgot that your head is pounding and it’s seers your brain in half.

You close the curtains quickly and groan in pain. Rubbing around your head you notice a bump. Most likely from when you were pinned to the ground. Speaking of that how long were you asleep? If he’s not going to show up you’ll definitely leave. You have to open your cafe up eventually.

Sighing, you sit on the couch and investigate your other aching places. He burned your wrist slightly. Even if you had moonlight power you can’t heal yourself with that ability you call moon river, but your body does heal faster then normal people. You lay back down and before you have any say you fall back asleep.

“Oi!” Something aggressively shakes you.

“Wake up dumb ass.” You open your eyes and see Casper the friendly ghost well actually not Casper and definitely not friendly. You look past him and see moonlight peaking through the curtains. You shove past him and throw the curtains open.

Your body immediately starts to absorb it and you feel amazing in seconds. “Oh my gosh, just what I need to get rid of this headache.” You close your eyes completely forgetting about me white hair behind you. He is annoyed by how you’re blatantly ignoring him and still are unafraid of him.

But APPARENTLY not SPINNER! Who said he saw you earlier look at him and run away back to this room with a terrified expression. He was only a little offended. But he also said you haven’t made any attempts to leave, and how you yelled out loudly looking for him.

“How are you feeling? Did your burns heal?” You ask whilst you bask in the moonlight eyes still closed. Your pink hair is literally glowing and so is your skin. He’s taken aback. Were you worried for him. There’s something wrong with you.

“Why did you do that?” He asks you rudely

“Because, you were in pain. Why wouldn’t i?”

“Because I’m a stranger and possibly a killer for all you know.”

“That’s not a reason to not help someone. And you know nothing about me so don’t assume anything and I didn’t assume anything about your life.” You say back. Hmph he thinks your so smug aren’t you? You open your eyes and turn to look at him.

Such a peaceful expression full of wonder and wait, he sees it. Loneliness. Deep set in you.

“Are your burns, and your scars from..your quirk?” You ask your expression not changing a bit. He debates if he should kill you or knock you out. He is starting to regret bringing you here. Rolling his eyes he turn away from you.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Uhm, my name is y/n by the way.” You tell him your name a bit shyly. Dabi closes his eyes and exhales slowly. You must truly not know who he is. Otherwise there’s no way you’d not be afraid of him.

Turning to face you his bright blue eyes bore into yours. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Dabi.” A part of him almost said Touya but it stayed lodged in there.

“Hmm.” You hum whilst standing up and walking over to him. You hold out your hand.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir Dabi!” You say, your cheeks tinting a shade of pink. He looks away with just his eyes and mumbles a yeah whatever at you.

Looking down at your hands fumble with each other you sit down on the couch softly.

“So, is there a reason you brought me to your home? Are you…really going to kill me?” You say in a tiny voice. He looks at you, your head drooping down although your tone of voice was unreadable. Plopping himself next to you Dabi yawns big and loud.

“No, your quirk is useful and my uh…buddy needs some help. Unfortunately I’ll have to introduce you a bit slowly to everyone or else someone will actually probably kill you.”

“So, are you going to go to my house and get some of my stuff or can I go home and visit you when you’re ready for doing my first introductions.?” You say like it’s some sort of job interview. Why are you being so pliable?

Since you definitely don’t seem like you feel the need to escape should he let you go home? You don’t treat yourself like you’re a prisoner here. If he’s being honest maybe just maybe a teeny tiny part of him didn’t want to just leave you on the side of the road.

With such a useful quirk it would’ve been a shame if something would’ve happened to you. Now that Dabi has found such a sweet little gem tucked away in that little village nearby.

“What are your thoughts on heroes, y/n?”

“Uhm, if I answer this will you answer my previous question?”

“Sure.”

“Ok, hmmm let’s see. I always thought heroes are the ones who help because they desire to. Not out of obligation or for the rewards but simply because they needed to. I guess if I’m being honest I’ve never met any of the heroes wearing costumes. I’ve met the ones dressed like a normal person. The ones who would drop anything to help you back up if you trip.” You say and you’re not sure if this is your complete answer but it suffices for you at this moment.

“Hero number 1 endeavor what do you think about him. Tell me and I’ll answer yes to your question about goin home.” Dabi says leaning close to you. Underneath the burn smell you find something warm like vanilla. Very subtle.

“Who’s that?” You ask completely dumbfounded. “Wait!” You laugh out “they give ranks to the heroes!?” Standing up you look baffled. “No wonder I’ve heard scary stories about the heroes from the folks in this town who moved here to get away from heroes. They must have the BIGGEST EGOS I mean come ON.” You pace the room going on and on about it. Wow not what he was expecting. You’re really out of the hero society social loop.

“HOWEVER! Now that I think about it the ranks could help determine who’s power can handle the most detrimental situations this knowing to send said hero to the problem to have the best chance of success.” You stop pacing and put you hand on your chin as if it’s some world mystery you need to solve.

“Stop, let’s just go now.” Dabi gets up annoyed majorly.

“Wait where are we going?”

“Your house, how dumb are you?”

“Hey I’m only dumb when I have no context about a situation. Like this!? I can’t read your mind.” He mumbles a “whatever” and takes you to what looks to be like the front door.

“Wait here. Do. Not. Move.”

“Yes. Sir.” You mock putting your hand up to your head to salute him. He rolls his eyes and walks away. He really is debating not doing this but whatever.

He comes back holding a box. “I gave away and ate all your baked good except for this. I may be a jerk most of the time but here.” He hands you the box. You know instantly what’s inside. Your birthday cake.

“Oh..” you flush crimson. “Thanks” he just makes a hmph sound and exits the mansion. You follow behind him. A part of you is excited he’s bringing you home but even more excited because he saved your cake for you. You’ll definitely be giving him a slice. It’s your special recipe too. You don’t make this cake often.

As you walk side by side with Dabi the moon shines proudly for you. Enlightening your path home and giving you her energy. The atmosphere between you too is nothing short of magical. As if you have both been cast under a Moon Spell.

#afab reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader #touya smut #touya todoroki #my hero academia #bhna #bhna x reader #dabi fluff #unedited #touya x reader #mha dabi #please reblog #boku no hero academia #dabi drabble

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mayathescientist · 11 months

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okay so, ace attorney tumblr and my followers

the character on my pfp is my ace attorney oc drawn by the amazing @nebravsky and I'll teaser him a little bit in this post, if anyone gets interested I'll make another post where I tell the full story!

he's a doctor, a past criminal, a prosecutor and a certified fucking clown. full drawing from my pfp:

he lived in one house with manfred von karma and kinda took care of the von karma kids, long story why. him and manfred had a bit of a fucked up personal (if a bit one-sided) relationship which he then had to learn to live without when mvk ended up in prison after aa1-4

he loves von karma siblings dearly and taking care of them is, as he thinks, the only thing that kept him from being a completely fallen man beyond redemption and a pathetic worm without morality. however, that relationship is also a bit fucked up and one-sided, he only did what his job and manfred allowed him to do and could never get close Enough to help them emotionally; that's why he did the best he could by putting on a clown face and just being their little jester to lighten up the mood. miles always just sort of tried to stay away from him, his offerings of help and silly jokes, but on the inside grew to really appreciate the fact that this person is always around; franziska kinda made him a scapegoat for all her anger as a child, since he was in a vulnerable position and the house and was such a person to just laugh it off anyway, but even though she would always give him the "foolish fool" treatment, she'd sometimes leave her pride at the door and come to him for help (mostly for medical issues). he loves them and feels like knowing him makes him a better person – at least somewhat of a good person.

later in life, actually, almost immediately after aa1-4 and the manfred situation, he became a prosecutor to morally redeem himself (again – it's a long story what he needed redemption for). he has a relationship with gumshoe!! and with lana skye but that's for another day.

he's a sassy bitch, a pathetic jokester, a self-loathing idiot and a pretty troubled and conflicted person who couldn't figure out his priorities for years because of how much he's been puppeteered by other people and thrown around all walks of life; even right now he only knows that he should (and can) stand up to evil, and that he'd die for miles edgeworth and franziska von karma. I love him a lot im sorry if it shows.

here are some sketches of him!

text from all images:

1 - Do I look professional? - No. - That's because I am! Wait-

2 - The King and The Jester

3 - I will not be prosecuting cases like manfred von karma, may dogs pee on his grave! (1/3)

4 - I invented a new, revolutionary, original, and fully humane approach! (2/3)

5 - ☆ have absolutely no thoughts or theories on the matter and simply memorize the notes of an infinitely more skilled prosecutor before going out to court!! ☆ (3/3)

(this comic is. WELL. ITS NOT JUST A JOKE ITS CANON FOR THE CHARACTER but that's a long story)

#maya posts #maya art #ace attorney #ace attorney oc #I'm sorry for going to the main tags with this #its just that. I want attention. yeah #maya's aa oc tag

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sankttealeaf · 1 year

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longing stares

read on AO3 here

fandom ; grishaverse

pairing ; nikolai lantsov x zoya nazyalensky

summary ; His eyes would always seem to be drawn to her, no matter what the two were doing. Zoya, standing proud, confident in every word that left her lips. Oh, how foolish it was to think about kissing her - yet his mind indulged him every time.

other info ; takes place pre-king of scars. absolute yearning from nikolai. as it should be, zoya deserves it. mentions of the darkling, and nikolai has a few self-deprecating thoughts (but aimed towards the demon, not him, he's perfect x) i've caught the zoyalai bug so i am definitely going to write more for them 5.6k words ⋆｡°✩

If there was one thing Nikolai despised since becoming king, it was the large number of meetings he had to attend. The people of Ravka had problems, and they needed someone to tell them to. That person happened to be him. Some of the issues were resolved quickly, all they needed was a letter from the king to back up their claim, and it was good to go. Others dragged on to the point where Nikolai saw no end to it and started to wonder if he was forced into his own personal hell. His father never bothered seeing those who had issues in person. In fact, Nikolai could not recall a single time his father addressed the public on a level like this. He supposed he was doing one thing right, then.

The two farmers who had requested this meeting in front of the king continued their discussion, which was turning more into an argument than a civilised conversation. Nikolai rolled his shoulders back, feeling them start to get stiff after sitting still for the past however long. He wanted to call a break, but knew that the longer he put off resolving the issue, the more it would drain him.

"I've had this land in my family's name for years, I shall not give it up just because someone wants more land!" One of the disputing farmers had said, causing the other farmer to get angry.

"It's my right! You are not using the space, and I need more room for my cows!"

Was this his life now? Listening to people argue over cows? How did this even get to be an argument held in front of the king? The farmer's voices were slowly getting louder and louder, and part of him wanted to see if they would get into a physical fight. How funny it would be. A quick glance over to the guards that stood watch by his side told him that any fight would be broken up before it could get dangerous. The other part of him needed to de-escalate the situation before it got to that point. He sat up straighter in his seat, immediately catching the attention of the two farmers.

He gestured to the one wanting more land. "Is there no other land you could simply purchase nearby?"

The taller of the two farmers, the one Nikolai was speaking too, shook his head. “I don't have the extra money to purchase more land. I shouldn’t have to--”

“Perhaps a loan would help?” Nikolai interrupted, getting the feeling that he was about to insult the other. “A loan would help to purchase more land, which, in turn, will help you with earning more money, correct?”

The farmer nodded.

“Wonderful. I’ll have one of my accountants get in touch. We’ll set up regular repayments and if this works, there should be no more squabbling over land.” He gestured for his guards to escort the two out, signalling the end of this dispute. The farmers bowed deeply, expressing their thanks before getting led out of the room.

When Nikolai heard the doors closed and was alone, he sank back into his seat with a long sigh. He rubbed at his temples, wondering if it was acceptable to just turn in for the night already. His moment of quiet was interrupted by a quick knock at the door. He ran a hand across his face as he sat back up, putting on the regal mask that he would not let slip in front of his general guards or citizens. Before he could think about calling out to allow the person in, the door opened. Nikolai looked up, seeing Zoya enter and gently push the door close with the heel of her foot. In her hands were what looked to be even more paperwork and he outwardly groaned at the thought of sorting through more issues.

“Is there really no one else you can bother with this?” He asked as Zoya approached. She stood before him, a smile on her face as she handed over the stack of papers.

“I thought you enjoyed reading about every problem Ravka has?” She replied, taking a step back once he had retrieved the paperwork from her. “I vaguely remember you proclaiming how much you love it.”

“I don’t think I was fully conscious when I said that. Must’ve been our other dear friend,” he said, quickly flicking through the sheets to see if there was anything of interest. There wasn’t.

“You could always let ‘it’ solve these issues for you. It will give you a lot more trouble to worry about, but at least that means you don’t have to deal with it.” Zoya shrugged, smoothing out her kefta. She had a point, Nikolai thought. Though he would prefer that the population of Ravka never found out about the guest that currently lived in his space with him, the idea of simply letting the beast in him deal with these mundane issues was quite funny to think about. He furrowed his brows in thought, weighing up the pros and cons to that idea.

“You aren’t seriously considering that, are you?” She asked in disbelief, as Nikolai let out a laugh.

“Only slightly. It would take quite a lot off my plate when you think about it.” He pulled out one sheet of paper, seeing a similar topic he was just listening to wanting to be discussed. More cow disputes, again?

“Whenever you want it to cause chaos in Ravka, warn me in advance. I need to make sure I look good when people see me take you down,” she said, pushing some of her hair behind her shoulder and folding her arms across her chest.

Nikolai looked up at her from the paper, and smiled. “You always look good.” He knew, deep down, that he meant it and it wasn’t just another flattering joke to boost her ego (not that her ego ever needed a boost). The way Zoya always seemed so perfectly put together both frustrated him and made him look at her in awe. He saw her in the early mornings after a bad night, and the tired look she had on her face seemed to only add to her beauty. How can one look so tired yet so pretty, he would wonder. It was times like those mornings where he would feel utterly monstrous compared to her - his hair dishevelled, clothes torn and body aching after a night with the demon inside of him. How the mighty fell, the King of Ravka crashing and burning behind closed doors. But there was always Zoya by his side, no matter how disastrous he looked or felt. He wanted to reach out, to thank her for everything. He pictured a heartfelt thanks, holding her hands and telling her he wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else but her.

Forcing himself to look back at the pile of paper, he began to properly read through them. More land disputes, more complaints about the trading routes now that the Fold was gone, more concerns about the rising growth in those worshipping the Darkling as a Saint. Mixed in between the more pressing matters were lots of calls for the king to settle disagreements over who owned what animal or land. Was this really worth his time? He didn't want to ignore his people's issues, so at the start of his reign he indulged a few of them, and at the start it was useful. Now it felt like it was getting too much for him to handle alone.

"Why is it that I get final say over who owns what cows?" He asked, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. He could afford a moment's relaxation around Zoya - she had seen him at his worst, what was improper posture between friends?

Zoya raised an eyebrow, moving to stand beside his chair to peer over his shoulder at the paper he was currently reading through. "Are you not having fun? Would you prefer it if they were fighting over something else?"

"I'd prefer it if they weren't fighting at all." He found himself holding his breath when he felt her look over his shoulder. It was times like this where he was glad she was not a Heartrender, he didn't think he could explain why his heart seemed to skip a beat every time she was near. He turned his head slightly to look at her. "Where do you even find these people?"

"I have a long list of those who would make you suffer. This is hardly scratching the surface." She smiled, though Nikolai noticed it was not one of sincerity. He didn't doubt that she had people ready to speak in front of the king, only to put him through more boredom and suffering. The mental note to not piss her off was always stuck on the forefront of Nikolai's mind. He underlined it a few times, just in case he ever forgot.

There was a separate pile forming of topics he wanted to follow up, and the rest could be dealt with at a later time by someone who had the free time to write letters or

"There are several complaints about the lack of water in one of the rivers flowing through a nearby town…" Nikolai paused in thought, watching as Zoya leaned away from him, an eyebrow raised. He handed the sheets of paper towards her. "I feel that is an issue more suited for the Triumvirate to discuss, don't you?"

She took the papers, giving them a once over and shrugging. "I suppose I can take away some valuable Tidemakers to sort out an issue sent directly to you."

"How kind of you. Ravka thanks you for your service."

Words began to blur into one as Nikolai skimmed through the last of the papers, finding a nice middle ground of what he wanted to follow up on. The rise in Darkling fanatics was definitely an issue and also the last thing he wanted to deal with on top of everything else.

He noticed Zoya was still lingering around, unusual considering how often she would walk in, hand him more work to do and leave before he could get a word in. Putting down the sheets of paper, he leaned over to where Zoya stood.

"If you've been yearning for my presence this badly, Zoya, you needn't use the excuse of handing me more paperwork to be close to me, you know," he said with a playful grin, as she turned to look at him. She took a few steps back from him and folded her hands behind her back, standing tall. Nikolai shifted in his seat, adjusting his posture to match her own.

She smiled back at him with the same lack of insincerity as before. "I see enough of you as is, I would hate to put myself through more of you.”

“Yet, here you still are.” He grinned, resting his arm against the arm of the chair, head in hand.

“Also, I wanted to see how long it would take for you to remember you were requested to attend the Triumvirate meeting that started five minutes ago."

He blinked. Was that meeting today? Already? He stood, gathering his piles of paperwork to organise properly later on. Maybe he could bring some of these things up at the Triumvirate meeting? The rise in the Darkling fanatics seemed to be important to both Grisha and otkatza’sya alike.

"And here I thought you just wanted to see me." He smiled as he began to walk towards the door, Zoya following in step close behind.

Triumvirate meetings were slightly more exciting to listen to than Ravka’s complaints, so Nikolai was glad to be busy with that instead. He thumbed through the top few pages as he and Zoya walked to the war room in silence. His mind was too occupied to make playful comments, though he knew the real reason why he was so quiet. It made sense to busy his thoughts with that of solving problems, pushing around pretend pieces on a war table, making calculated moves in a game he knew well. He’d rather think about that, than try and break down, piece by piece, what on earth was going through his mind a few minutes ago. Zoya, someone he trusted with his life, who had saved his life before and would most likely continue to do so. He didn't understand why he would find it hard to breathe normally around her, or why his gaze would linger on her more than normal, or why he sought her out everywhere he went. You fool, Nikolai. You know exactly why, his mind would tell him, and he would shove that thought down with more planning and strategic manoeuvres.

Zoya opened the doors to the war room. Genya and David were already inside, seated close together and talking in hushed voices.

“I told you he would be late,” Zoya announced as she walked inside, a grin on her face as she looked towards where Genya sat. “I’d like my payment now.”

Genya laughed. “And how do I know you didn't distract him on purpose?”

“I believe I’m immune to Zoya’s attempts at distractions by now,” Nikolai replied, taking his seat and setting down his papers. “There’s only so many times she can bat her eyelashes at you before you learn to resist.”

“I don’t recall ever ‘batting my eyelashes’ at you, your Highness,” Zoya retorted.

“Ah, must’ve been in my dreams, then.” He gave her a smile, leaning back in his seat.

The group settled down, the meeting starting with Zoya recapping on things they had put a pin in last time they met. Important Grisha business, things that Nikolai would either approve of or suggest a different idea. He was here simply to be the King, and that was a role he could easily slip back into.

Time ticked on, as issues were brought to the table and talked about, plans put in place to solve the problem. Zoya mentioned the water issue Nikolai had given to her, and they made note of which Tidemakers were to go down there with Zoya to solve the problem. The sheets of paper that held information about the Darkling fanatics were at the top of the pile that sat in front of Nikolai, and he took them off, sliding them over to Zoya. She raised an eyebrow, glancing down at it. Her eyes widened, picking it up quickly.

“Cults for the Darkling are popping up,” she said, and the table went quiet. She handed the papers to the other two, and there was a long moment of silence. The air was heavy, and Nikolai found himself adjusting his gloves, making sure they were on properly. A nervous habit he had developed, terrified that they would somehow fall off and the dark scars would be on show for everyone to see.

“They see him as a Saint…?” Genya spoke quietly. Nikolai looked over at her, noticing that David had placed a hand over hers for comfort. He gave a quick glance to Zoya, whose jaw was clenched, frown on her face, an air of general anger forming around her.

“There’s notes on where these people have been spotted. It should be looked into as soon as possible,” he spoke, folding his hands in his lap. “Just say the word, and I will get people on it.”

A nod from the others. His focus wavered from the conversation back to his hands, and the thought that each night came with the risk of turning into something of the Darkling’s creation. No matter how often he got caught up in the reality that the Darkling was dead, the curse would creep back in, ruin his night, and make him monstrous. If anyone found out, his rule would be put into question, people would target him more than normal. And if the fanatics ever found out… He blinked the thoughts away, now was not the time for this - there were more important issues at hand.

His eyes caught where Zoya sat, upright and to attention, though he could never quite work out if she was actually listening or just really good at pretending to do so. He wanted nothing more than to ask if she was okay, to reach a hand out and place it on her arm for comfort. A strand of her hair had fallen from behind her ear, and he imagined himself brushing it back delicately. His hand would linger by her cheek, and she would lean into it, her eyes closed. Their foreheads would touch, a comforting quiet passing between them both. Zoya’s hand would rest on top of Nikolai’s, her skin cool to the touch, like a gentle breeze on a spring day. She would look at him, eyes glancing down to his lips, and the gap between them would close, inch by inch.

"Nikolai?" He was thrown from his thoughts by the sound of Genya, standing from her seat and looking at him with a mix of confusion and a hint of a frown. "Did we lose you already?"

He blinked, hoping that the warmth of his cheeks was just that, and his face was not noticeably red. "Of course not! What could be more exciting than…" He leaned over to see what was laid out on the table - a large map of the surrounding towns and villages, each with their own notes on how many fanatics have been spotted and any correlation between each point. “... The Darkling.”

“I can think of plenty of things,” Zoya mumbled, giving Nikolai a look of discontent. He cleared his throat, as Genya continued to speak, though now Nikolai was paying attention.

The meeting continued on, all their attention was focused on the cult for the Darkling. It was still early days, but they wanted to work out a way to dissolve it as quickly as they could - the last thing they needed was for the Darkling to be worshipped as a Saint. They paused for food, bringing small snacks into the war room to continue their discussion. A plan was formed, and they needed to keep this quiet for now - only the four of them, plus potentially Tolya and Tamar, could know. If word got out, there would be questions from the other Grisha, and they did not want anyone to do anything without thinking.

The more that was mentioned about ways to rid the cultists, the more Nikolai became uncomfortable about what the night would hold. Would he wake up out of bed, scratching at the walls, demanding to be released? Or would he be fine? The more his mind was brought back to the Darkling, the more he believed the former. He felt a gentle nudge on his arm, and looked up to see Zoya standing by him.

“I can hear the cogs whirring in your brain when you think,” she said with a slight smile. “Are you planning on sleeping in here for the night?”

He looked around, noticing Genya and David had left. What was with him losing focus today? He stood, stretching his arms out, grinning at Zoya. “Only if you are staying here too.”

She scoffed, though the smile on her face told him she wasn’t mad at that comment. “Come on. I’d hate for your friend to appear in the halls of the palace. It would be a mess, and I don’t want to be the one to clean it up.”

He watched as she turned to leave, and he let out a sigh. Maybe he was just tired, that’s why he was thinking weirdly. He followed after her, each step closer to the inevitable.

The sinking feeling in his stomach grew as they approached the wing of the palace where his room was. It had been Zoya from the start who accompanied him to his room, to hand him the nightly tonic Genya mixed up, who locked the doors and told Toyla to wake her if anything happens. He wouldn't want it to be anyone else, though he would never admit that out loud.

“You’ve been awfully quiet lately,” she spoke, looking at him with a slight crease in her brows.

“Are you worried about me, Zoya?” He asked through a grin, diverting the question to become a conversation that was more tolerable.

She rolled her eyes. “I simply want to know what’s made you so quiet. I want to give it my gratitude.”

He thought for a moment to tell her how worried he was about the curse getting stronger, how he could feel something clawing from inside, begging for a release. The monster in him wanted out, and he was not sure how long he could control it for. Instead, he gave her a shrug. “Maybe I just want to be in your company in silence for a change.”

The silence continued as they arrived at Nikolai's room, the door already guarded by Tolya, who had propped himself up in a chair, a book of poetry open. He gave them both a nod, used to this routine already. Nikolai gave Tolya a two-fingered salute as he walked inside his room, the door closing behind him.

His room was dark, the light of the moon casting a soft glow over the furniture, and Zoya. She was quick to search through the drawer of his desk, the one where the tonics were kept, taking a small bottle out and uncorking it.

“Getting straight to it tonight, hm?” He laughed, making his way behind the room divider to change. Normally he had no issue changing with Zoya in the room, even though she couldn’t see him. But tonight, his hands hesitated to remove his gloves, the creeping thought that something awful was going to happen arrived back in his brain. He needed the gloves off first, otherwise it would be a pain to unbutton his shirt, but something wasn’t working in his brain. Something was holding him back. His mind cycled through images of his hands being scarred completely now, the dark veins moving up his arms, slowly consuming him, and he had to shake away the thoughts and ground himself back in the moment. If he never removed his gloves, he would never have to see the aftermath of the curse again. Instead it would just come to him in flashes of brief consciousness he experienced whenever night fell and he found himself with the unwanted guest.

"Are you taking your time for a reason?" Zoya called out, which made him aware of just how long he was taking, and he was still fully clothed.

"If you want to see me undressed that badly, it wouldn't take much to blow this partition down," he replied, his usual playful undertone not as pronounced as it normally would be. His heart wasn't fully in it, for a change.

"I will if it gets you to hurry up. I have a nightly routine, too, you know."

He stood, giving himself one more go at removing his gloves to then change. His hands hesitated at the cuff of his sleeve, unable to push it up to get to the edge of his glove. Would it be bad to sleep with them on? Most likely - the last thing he needed was to transform during the night and rip them. He had done that too many times before with shirts. He took a deep breath, deciding that it was no use forcing himself to do this when his mind was clouded with what ifs. He needed someone to tell him straight that he was over thinking things. He stepped out from behind the partition, feeling like a small child about to be reprimanded for his behaviour.

“Odd choice of nightwear,” Zoya said, hand on hip, waiting for him to be ready. When he didn't respond, she frowned. “Nikolai?”

He was quiet for a beat, hands clenching and unclenching as his mind searched for words. "We need a back up plan in case the curse gets worse. In case… I get worse." He had always refused to acknowledge that he and the demon were one and the same, and he looked at Zoya, who understood that he was serious about what he was saying. "We can't take the risk that this won't escalate with time."

"We're doing a lot already. Locked doors. Someone on guard at all times. What else can we do?" She replied. "Are you expecting us to tie you to your bed so you cannot move?"

Nikolai shrugged, though the idea could work. "I'm concerned, that's all." He looked back down at his gloved hands, still hesitant to remove them. "If people find out-"

"No one is going to find out."

"But if they do… If the fanatics of the Darkling find out there's still something of him left, they'll…" He wasn't sure what they would do, but he was certain it would only raise tensions between Ravka and the rest of the world. "I can't have them using me as a way to promote their agenda."

Zoya sighed, taking a few steps forward to close the space between them both. "Nikolai. No one is going to find out." She gently took hold of his hands, looking down at them for a moment. "You're guarded at night, you're covered up during the day. The only people who know are the ones you've told." She looked back at him. He noticed her hesitate, before speaking. "I refuse to let anyone try and ruin Ravka again."

If he wanted comforting words, he would have gone to someone else - Zoya was always to the point, which gave him more comfort than he would care to admit. He gave her hands a gentle squeeze in appreciation.

"If it gets too bad… If something happens and I can't change back…" He let the words linger in the air for a moment, and Zoya nodded. An unspoken pact, and he knew she would fulfil it if it came down to it.

"For Ravka," she whispered.

"For Ravka."

They stood, hand in hand, for what felt like an eternity. Neither wanted to move away first, to be the one to break this little moment. He looked down at their hands intertwined together, and he relaxed a little. The gloves made him feel like this didn't count as anything. He couldn't feel her like he wanted to. But the thought of removing them, of seeing what was really underneath terrified him tonight. Maybe it was all the talk of the Darkling, or maybe it was something else. He furrowed his brow in thought, feeling Zoya looking at him. She wordlessly let go of one of his hands, and he felt her hand ghost the side of his cheek, never getting close enough to touch. It was like she backed out at the last minute, and he looked at her with slight confusion. Her hand hovered away from his face, and she blinked, taking in a breath. He wasn't sure what she was doing, and was not expecting to feel her move closer, her hand now on top of the one she was still holding. Nikolai wanted to pause this moment, to capture it in all its tenderness, to keep it close to his heart and engrained in his mind forever. He wanted to pull her closer, embrace her like he wished he could. Instead, he watched her hand move, gently pushing the cuff of his sleeve back to reveal the edge of his glove.

Oh.

She pulled the fabric away from Nikolai's hands, slowly and with more care than he had ever seen her use before. Her eyes were down, focusing on the task, but he wanted nothing more than to have her look at him. When his hand was bare, she held it for just a moment, tracing one of the dark scars with her thumb absentmindedly.

Oh.

She moved to remove the other glove, taking just as much care as the first one. Nikolai had noticed that he had been holding his breath through it all, scared that if he moved or made a sound she would stop. With both gloves in hand, Zoya turned, placing them on his desk next to the small bottle of the tonic Genya had prepared. He held onto her hand, feeling more exposed than if he were standing in front of her nude. She turned back to him, now meeting his gaze. He gently brushed back a strand of her hair from her face, hand ever so close to resting on her cheek. But he stopped himself, instead lowering it down to rest atop of hers.

"Zoya," he said through a soft breath, scanning her face for something to give, for something to change and for him to wake up - that this was actually a dream.

Instead, the corners of her lips turned up into a soft smile. "You were taking too long."

There was a moment where he stood in disbelief, his hands in Zoya’s, the scene replaying over and over again in his mind. It was something so tender, so unlike them to share. General Nazyalensky and the King, sharing a moment of weakness, of soft movements and gentle touches. He couldn’t help but laugh at the idea, yet it had just happened.

He cleared his throat as he felt Zoya let go of his hands, the realisation of what they were doing had now landed on their shoulders, and she took a step back, putting distance between them again. Zoya turned, picking up the tonic and holding it out for him. He took it, and didn't give his mind any time to think, downing the liquid in one quick go. It was foul, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth that would linger there until morning. But so far, it has worked, keeping the demon at bay. And he hoped it would work for a long time after. Zoya held her hand out for the bottle, and he handed it to her, knowing it was safer for it to be discarded now rather than wait until morning. They learned that the hard way - after a particularly bad night they had entered Nikolai’s room to find glass shards scattered everywhere, on the floor and stuck in his hands. He remembered joking about it when Zoya called for a healer.

“It always seems to ruin the most useful parts of myself,” he had said with a laugh, holding his hands out in front of him to not accidentally make it worse.

“Is that why it never goes for your brain?” Zoya responded.

He hoped that that incident was the worst it would get. The scars from the glass had been removed, thanks to Genya, but the scars from the demon remained, no matter how hard they tried to get them gone. A constant reminder, Nikolai thought. He looked over at Zoya, who had begun to move towards the door, their nightly routine was complete and she was no longer needed here. Goodbyes were never their thing, so it didn't surprise Nikolai to see her leave without saying anything. It felt weird to him that they would not talk about what had just happened, but it was what they did. No need to talk about things that didn't matter.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” He said, making it sound more like a question than a statement of fact. They would always see each other in the morning to discuss if anything had happened during the night. Still, he called out for her, stopping her in her tracks as the question caught her off guard.

Zoya looked over her shoulder at him, pausing as she held the door handle. “Go to sleep, Nikolai.” She opened the door, slipping out into the hallway, leaving Nikolai standing in the middle of his room alone. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn't say more.

The room felt too cold, too dark, too empty without her in it. Shaking himself out from whatever daze he was in, he began to unbutton his shirt, his mind still swirling over the moment they had just shared. He was almost certain it was going to stay at the forefront of his thoughts for a while. After changing, he sat down on the edge of his bed, running a hand through his hair with a soft sigh. Too much was going on with him today, and he hoped to any Saint watching him that this night would be uneventful. He fell back on the bed, waiting for Genya’s tonic to kick in. There was always a moment before it took effect where he would wish for a normal night, for nothing awful to happen. Maybe this time the beast would leave him, maybe this was the night his life returned back to what it used to be. Maybe this time he would call for Zoya to come back, to have her here with him and not be in fear that something awful would happen. One day he would be able to ask her to stay, just for a moment longer. He would hold her hand in his, and in his daydreams his hands were clear of the dark marks that he despised.

He’d kiss her knuckles ever so gently, wanting nothing but softness for his general. In a world that was full of constant stress and horror, he wanted to give her a moment of peace away from it all.

Maybe this time he would dream of her.

#grishaverse #zoyalai #nikolai lantsov x zoya nazyalensky #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #grishaverse fic #shadow and bone #king of scars #; tealeaf's writing

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findingnemosworld · 8 months

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𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 - 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧.

• 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐬𝐚𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐈 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦 ( 𝐦𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞 )

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐭.

( i hate you [ biggest lie i’ve ever said ] )

He was the boy she’d met in the park by an unexpected twist.

He had been playing football with his friends when suddenly, out of the corner of his eye had noticed a young girl sitting under the tree and watching them play; it should be facile to ignore her, he never really paid attention to any girl seeing as his main focus was football.

Yet there was something about her that seemed to capture his attention.

He stops playing, under the pretense of being tired and wanting to sit; his friends however, all smiled knowing exactly what the real reason was, and watched as he walked towards the young girl. " Hi, can I sit here? " he greets her, smiling when she nodded, he takes the seat next to her. " Did you move here to the neighborhood? "

She nods with a smile across her lips, before responding. " Yes, we moved here last week "

His brows shot up, her dialect was an indicator that she wasn’t a native, " Oh " he nods with a smile, " that’s nice " he grows silent before extending his hand. " I’m Jordan, I live in that house over there " he gestures with his hand over to the house in the corner.

Her face lights up as she says, " I live in the house next door "

He smiles, " so we’re neighbors? "

" Yes " She nods with a giggle before shaking his hand. " I’m Luna "

" Luna " He echoes, " what does it mean? your name? "

She smiles, " it means the moon, it’s in Latin "

" Unique and quite pretty " He states, " Where are you from? "

" I’m from Colombia, we moved to England because my Pap— " She stops before smiling, " My father received a good position of work here "

" So you’ll be staying here " He states.

" Mhm " She nods before standing up, " I should go, my mother will be angry if I stay out late "

He blurts out, " Let me walk you to your house then, my mother is probably looking for me as well "

She nods and smiles, " ok "

He was the boy who showed her kindness when she didn’t think it existed.

Jordan became a constant. everytime she needed someone to listen; he was there, so much so that their mothers would exchange knowing looks that escalated into subtle comments being thrown whenever they were around one another.

She tried to not let it affect her, persistingly claiming that Jordan was just her best friend.

Yet as time went on, she was quick to realize that their bond wasn’t platonic by any means, or at least that’s what she believed, deluded by the love she felt, she mistranslated every single action Jordan made as something far more than just friendship.

Jordan was kind, he was compassionate, he was there when she needed him, and for that she believed that he felt the same way, how foolish of her?

Jordan seemed more drawn towards the girls that liked to dress up, that were girly and she did not fall under that category, her new friend Elliana did, the new girl in her school and the girl that inadvertently participated in what she could only describe as a heartbreak.

She wanted to believe that he wouldn’t do it, Jordan was the boy that showed her kindness when she thought it was extinct.

Yet that day, when they both held hands and were happily announcing their relationship to her, she could physically feel her heart shattering into a million pieces, however she was quick to mask her emotions with a smile, claiming that she was happy for them.

These two were friends.

Elliana was a sweet girl, she couldn’t possibly hurt her.

He was the boy who awakened her heart only to kill it senseless in the end.

It’d become too arduous for her to pretend, the weight of walking through life with a seemingly working heart seemed to drain her from the light she was once possessed, yes to the world she may seem fine, and she’d done a damn good job in pretending.

Yet she couldn’t physically do it anymore.

She had applied for several scholarships, and by chance; had been accepted into one that is in her hometown of Bogotá, Colombia – it was rushed, unplanned and quite possibly reckless, yet it was necessary, she had to leave, she couldn’t possibly stay in here any longer.

That day, she bids her parents goodbye and was about to leave when she heard him, calling out her name which caused her to turn around and see him running towards her along with Elliana which confused her. " What are you doing here? "

" We came as soon as we heard " Jordan explained.

She turns to her mother who gave her a sympathetic smile, she then turns to Jordan and sighs. " You shouldn’t have come here " she states.

" So you wanted me to not know that you’re leaving " He states with a cry before asking further, " why are you leaving anyway? "

" I was accepted into a scholarship program " She said, before a sad smile adorns her trembling lips " This will be good for me because I have nothing here "

" How can you say that? " He asks, incredulously. " You have something here, you have me and you have Ellie "

" I know " She said with a shaky voice, " But I have nothing else, so the right thing to do is to go home "

" This is also your home Lu " He said with tearful eyes, " You’re going to leave me like this "

She smiles sadly, " we’ll have phone calls, text messages, video calls and I promise I’ll come back to visit " she looks at Elliana and walks up to her to give her a hug before whispering in her ear. " Take care of him, ok! "

Elliana nods, the realization had sunk in when she saw her embrace Jordan.

" Listen to me here " Luna pokes him, " Take care of Ellie, she’s a sweet girl and she deserves to be happy, so if I hear you messing up I’m coming back to end your career in football "

Jordan nods, " Promise me you’ll come visit "

" I will " she smiles.

" Promise me we’ll always be friends " Jordan adds with a smile.

" I promise " she smiles again, " I’m going to go now so don’t cry "

Jordan forces a smile and nods, " I won’t "

She turns around and walks away, the tears were already rolling down her cheeks as she makes her way towards a new chapter, leaving a huge part of her heart in England, and hoping that with time, she’ll heal.

She loved him,

Yet he loved someone else,

Unaware that by doing that,

He sucked the life out of her,

Transforming her into a wilted rose.

#jordan henderson #jordan henderson imagine #jordan henderson fanfiction #jordan henderson one shot #liverpool fc

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lewis-winters · 10 months

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Last Line(s) tag

thank you to @almost-a-class-act and @hellofanidea for the tag! sorry I only answered now it slipped my mind.

Um. Ok. So. I haven't been working on any stuff lately because ✨Depression✨ so I clicked on a random word document for this. So. Here's the last few paragraphs from a Winnix fic I left unfinished in 2021, based off the indie film Private Romeo:

It’s funny, Dick thinks. Funny how little they have in common, poor Romeo and he. The fancies of youth have never taken a hold of him before, not the way it has this boy, with his heart on his sleeve, daring the world to break it and make him into something poetry and songs could claim. Moving through the world with his head down and his hands as busy as he could get them, Dick always thought it wiser to keep his heart tucked in and away, protected and only feeling what his head would let it, fueling it with nothing but determination and character, building it all upon the moral compass so carefully handed down to him through the wisdom of the generations. He’d been a good son, staying carefully in his lane, living life according to the words of his parents, understanding their discipline to be an expression of their love and honoring them best he can. He never crashed parties he wasn’t invited too. He never made friends with those who drank their weight in alcohol. He never allowed himself to pine after those he could never have.

Or at least he didn’t, until now.

The moon is forgiving tonight, shining gently through the window of their tiny room to caress the sweet swell of Lewis’ cheek and the proud slope of his nose. His dark brows are drawn together in a frown, the corners of his lips downturned in distress. Dreaming again—of what, Dick isn’t sure. Lewis never tells. But it doesn’t stop the need in him to reach out and touch, soothe away the pain with the pad of his thumb, allowing the rest of his fingers to cradle Lew’s cheek, run themselves through the thick of his steel black hair.

Now that he thinks about it, they’d met very similarly to this, on that little patch of gentle sun that appeared every afternoon on that grassy hill behind their barracks in Fort Benning. Dick remembers it just like it were yesterday, perhaps because he holds on to the memory the way Lew holds on to his flask, taking it out for a sip every now and again, to feel the addictive rolling, crashing wave of warmth course through him until he feels it all in the crown of his head to his toes.

Lew had been dozing, left behind on a rare weekend when the bars and pubs of the nearby town could not hold his attention for long. Asleep, he looked his age, smoothed out and serene and boyish; long, black lashes fanning across his tan cheeks with a sweetness that made Dick want to kiss them until they fluttered open to reveal those large, brown eyes he’d been dutifully trying to keep out of his thoughts. He did nothing of the sort, of course. Instead, he’d shimmied down the slope to hover over this boy he’d only ever seen in passing, but whose image he’d always followed with his eyes, inexplicably drawn, and shaken his shoulder until he’d awoken, staring up at Dick with confusion.

“Hi?” he’d said, groggy. And that was the beginning.

Dick had never thought that his own love might be something poets would sing of. Never thought of it burning or hurting so keenly, drowning him in yearning and want. He always thought his love would be straight forward and simple.

Now, with his eyes slipping shut as he watches the steady rise and fall of Lew’s chest, he realizes that that, too, had been its own kind of foolishness.

And I'll tag whoever wants to do it!

#personal #tag game #winnix #estrella_marie

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tor3memberwhatsdeleted · 5 months

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Alright. Let's get this going.

Yes, me. @alice-the-kittycat-yt

Sep-dec 2021

From running through the house, I turned my foot the wrong way and broke it. It wasn't till a week later that I was taken to Urgent Care to get an X-ray of it. Turned out it was fractured. I had to use crutches to get around.

Because of that, I couldn't carry my bag. Someone had to help me. Yes, the mentioned, Alexander.

Not going to say his full name. That would be completely wrong. That'd probably be considered doxxing, which is not what I want. Don't do or say anything to him. That's wrong and not a good way to handle such situations.

Anyway, he was the one to carry my bag. Over the time, I developed a close bond with him. I had ever wanted to love, but something changed when I met him. Felt instantly drawn and breathless looking at him.

Off of that, my friends found out. The first time he asked me out, I declined. I didn't want to like him at the time.

Oh how bad that was.

I soon confessed and we stayed extremely close friends for a while.

Feb 18 2022

This is the exact day he asked me to be his girlfriend. Of course I excepted.

Went on the rest of the year without any problems, other than me then thinking negatively of myself after dating him. Bringing down my self esteem.

Rest of 2022

It was alright. I was completely blind by love for this man. I was dumb. Long time followers remember me always talking about him over this period.

As well as self hate posts.

Drawings of him.

Everything on him.

I was obsessed with this guy.

How foolish.

I realized signs of him cheating with a clingy woman named, to keep her private, we'll call her Izzy. She always wanted to be around him.

Then came valentine's day of 2023...

Feb 25, 2023

This is the exact date of which he broke up with me after admitting to cheating on my with Izzy.

I was devastated and depressed.

I didn't know what to do with my life. But...

I built myself back up. He started being a b**** to me and calling me things.

Going as far as to bring up my past, which is a very sensitive subject for me.

I couldn't believe he would do such a thing (yes, my parents fought, not only with words but violence, I might do a story on that later).

Then it went to insulting my appearance.

Then brings my depression to make fun of me

Wouldn't anyone cry?!?!?!

Then he goes as far to tell me to kill myself after I mentioned my friend telling me to block him. Before I even finished my sentence.

Can't even spell properly.

Uses the same insults as a 6 year old.

Present day

So, currently he called me recently, no, I didn't answer because I was confused. I've been a lot nicer to him.

Though I'll never truly forgive him.

He lied and said I was abusive then later admitting to dumping me for another woman.

I won't forget this. I never did anything to him. Yes, I did say some pretty rude things as a comeback, but I never went as far as to tell him to literally kill himself. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone!

Insulting my art.

I will never forgive or forget that.

He is rude and not trustworthy.

I'm done here.

#the story of us #Alex The Dumbass #alice talks

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recurring-polynya · 2 years

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For the Ask Meme!

For Byakuya: 🤡🤔🎲

For Renruki: 🎮 💀🎢

My screen totally went blank and I'm not sure if my previous one was sent (if so, please delete it, it's garbage, I wasn't done editing it lmao). Also the Ask screen is so different in the desktop vs phone/Ipad ugh...

(this is the only version I received, so fear not. Also, I know how Tumblr is)

Byakuya

🤡 - What’s something dumb they’re embarrassed about?

Byakuya does not generally get embarrassed, for the simple reason that he does not do things that he is not proud of, easy peasy. If you asked him what his most embarrassing moment was, he would instantly reply it was the time he failed to protect Soul Society (by getting his guts ripped out) and had to ask Ichigo for help. I think very few people would classify this as “dumb.”

However, lately (epilogue-era), there is one thing, which is that he occasionally accidentally reveals himself to have a Wikipedia-level knowledge of the late Captain Ukitake’s series of children’s books, Sōgyō's Refusal!

Byakuya is a classic hyperfixater, but he’s also well-aware that falls under “things he is not proud of”, so he tries to cultivate interests that make you sound smart and cultured to talk about at length (history, poetry, art, orchids) and has also carefully calibrated the depth to which he can talk about certain borderline topics (swordsmanship, kidou, shogi). If he reads a book and gets excited about it, he will carefully craft an “official take” on it, so if he is asked socially what he thought of it, he will respond in a normal, controlled way. Byakuya actually talking about a thing that he loves is a sign that he has either identified you as a like-minded individual (this is the basis of his friendship with Hitsugaya, and also a lot of what he likes about Renji) or just that he cares for someone deeply (Rukia, once she figured out what was going on, loves to hear Byakuya in this mode).

To that end, Sōgyō's Refusal! is among Ichika’s favorite things. Rukia has a bit of trouble with it, emotionally, so Byakuya took this on as a thing he does with his niece. He has read her all of the books, multiple times. He has played the role of nearly every character in imaginary games. He has answered every possible variation of “who would win in a fight?” and “what is every character’s favorite food?” He has drawn numerous comics starring Sōgyō (he often works the Wakame Ambassador and Ichika herself into these). He would do this because he loves his niece, of course, but the fact is... the books are kind of good?? Like, Ukitake was an educated and well-read man, and there are many references to the classic epics of Soul Society and allusions to historic events? The swordplay is always masterful, and Byakuya is really impressed with the simplicity of the descriptions, making it accessible to children? The are filled with a lot of legitimately funny absurdist humor?

Anyway, he’s slipped a couple of times, once to another noble who was also a parent, and once to Kensei, when the Bulletin was doing a reprint series. It was pretty mortifying both times, but not nearly as bad as he remembered the sensation of embarrassment to be. Both times, he just got a funny look and then they went on with their life. And anyway, there is nothing this man will not endure for the sake of his family.

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand?

Why the Ninth Squadron has no sleeves on their uniforms, not even in the winter. It seems foolishness.

(”It’s for the aesthetic, Captain.”

“I hear what you are saying, Lieutenant, but the aesthetic in question is horrible.”)

He also does not understand Lieutenant Hisagi’s facial tattoo and no one, not even Rukia, is willing to try and explain it to him.

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list.

I used a random number generator for this gave me ->

🧑‍🍼 - How do they feel about kids? Byakuya tends to regard children as just small, incompetent adults. On one hand, this means he is often impatient with them and doesn’t understand their limitations, but on the other, he tends to treat children with far more respect than many adults do.

Rukia and Renji are very intentional about keeping him updated on Ichika’s developmental stages and what their goals and intentions are toward her. He finds the developmental stuff really interesting, and this framing is really helpful for him in terms of tempering his expectations of her capabilities. He respects their parenting values for the most part, but if he wishes to buy a four-year old an eye-wateringly expensive kimono and take her out to a fancy sushi restaurant, is this not his prerogative as uncle? (Rukia and Renji knew he was going to be like this and they just deal with it)

Renruki

🎮 - What’s their favorite game?

They both love football and are the worst trashtalkers in the Gotei-13 futsal league. Renji plays defender for Squad 6, Rukia plays pivot (the primary offensive position) for Squad 13. They holler at each other on the field for forty minutes straight and then have to go straight home afterwards because they’re so horny for each other.

They also love any and all games that straddle the line between games and sports and that they can play together in order to humiliate their enemies. The Kuchiki family New Year’s hanetsuki (badminton) match is a bloodbath.

Rukia is a skilled shogi player and enjoys playing with both her brother and her captain.

Renji does not care for board games, and he especially does not care for the nightmare version of Candyland that Nemuri 8 and Ichika always make him play with them.

💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?

Rukia loooooves horror movies, of all varieties, it is her favorite genre, actually. Rukia is the kind of person who if you say, “hey, you wanna see something fucked up?” she will respond “YES” immediately. Renji likes some horror movies. He doesn’t care for torture porn, for example, and while doesn’t mind splatterfests, it is possible to gross him out. His favorite kind of horror is the more straightforward kind where some people are being chased by or possibly trying to stop a murderer or some sort of monster. He will often offer his opinion of what he would do in various situations. It’s not any sort of judgment on the characters in the movie, and he has no issues with idiotic characters, he just treats horror movies like Choose Your Own Adventures. Rukia does not mind this at all, she loves to hear Renji’s utterly unhinged survival schemes, even though she knows he would definitely die, just, immediately.

Renji gets choked up during Train to Busan.

🎢 - Do they like amusement parks? What’s their favorite ride?

They love amusement parks. As per the Momo version of this question, they got to go to one once on a class trip, but they’ve also been more recently with the Karakura Kids (probably to that place where Chad and Keigo went on a date once). Their actually favorite part of amusement parks is the food, and they are also both very fond of games where you can show off and win cute stuffed animals for Chad. Rukia’s taste in rides is very similar to Momo’s, but she has a slight preference for going fast over big drops, so roller coasters are her favorite. Renji is less impressed by thrill rides. He likes them okay, but if he wants to get a rush, he’d rather just jump off a cliff or ride a cart of questionable structural stability down a hill. The ride he really likes is the Gravitron. If you’re not familiar with it, it’s a spaceship-looking thing that spins around really fast so that you get smashed into the walls with centripetal force. Sometimes a guy just likes the sensation of being a refrigerator magnet, okay? Both Rukia and Renji also love the extremely cheesy haunted house ride at the Karakura park, but they laugh so hard at it that Ichigo refuses to go on it with them anymore.

For the record, Rukia felt much the same way about the Ferris Wheel that Momo did-- she loved the sensation of being high above the Earth, feeling simultaneously insignificant and transcendent. Renji does not remember any of that, but he also looks back on that Ferris Wheel ride with great fondness.

(original meme)

#misc ask meme #byakuya kuchiki #rukia kuchiki #renji abarai #renruki

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writing-so-i-dont-scream · 2 years

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The Wretched Philosopher

So this is the end

What wretched, spiteful god chose this death

What truly heartless deity saw fit to condemn me this way

Lying in a rotting heap of traitorous flesh

Desperate for an end but lacking the strength of will to carry it out

What good are lawmen if they can’t kill you?

What good are gunmen if they can’t die?

What good are legs if they can’t walk me out of this stinking hole

So I can go out the way I was MEANT to go

A thousand curses on that foolish boy I was

Cursed with hunger and ambition

Rampaging through life with destructive glee

Laughing like a drunken hyena at every naysayer,

Shooting like a Maxim gun at every naydoer

Had I never known fear? Had I truly lived in such

Manic glee that my own mortality never crossed my mind?!

I curse that drunken fool! A curse for every sore upon me,

A hot poker in the eye for every stinking, bubbling buboe

He earned me. Gallivanting through the desert like

A brazen halfwit, just looking to empty his pistol.

He would remember the euphoric rush,

The fruits of victory. But I remember the rot. The huddling

Wretch of every town that warned of carnal indulgence.

Not in their words, but in sickening whimpers just like mine,

As we lay shivering, slowly decomposing right outside

The den of sin that riddled our young bodies with gelatinous

Sores that never quite heal. I see the juvenile moron

That I used to be in every young man strutting into

Those doors, drawn by the sounds of music, laughter,

And love making. Just as they do not see me, do not

See the miscellaneous huddle of forgotten fools

Lying just outside. What I wouldn’t give to wring the

Scrawny necks of every reckless fool like that, to

Shout into their clean, healthy faces the same things

People had never told me so many years ago. At least

If I could warn them, they’d shoot me and it’d all be over.

How a civilized town could ever spring up around this

Haven of death and predatory debauchery would amaze

Me, had I still the capacity to be amazed. Now my thoughts

Are like hateful parasites sluggishly escaping an expiring

Host.

I think now of my mother. How her eyes shined when I saw her.

I once mistook it for a mother’s love, but now I know it must

Have been despair. What would she think of me now? Her

Only child wasting away in some nameless aberration of

Civilization. I doubt she’d recognize the boy she knew in this

Sick, tired body. There would be no shining eyes for me,

Unless provoked by the stench as she passed by. I’d like

To see her, even though she’d be sickened. I’d like to tell

Her that I did it, I figured it out, I grew up! I learned the lesson

That she so desperately wanted to teach me. And she’d cry,

And wail at the sight of me, but I could die knowing I was right

With my mama.

I suppose the men around me think of their lost sweetheat,

Some poor innocent lass set on a worthless wretch like us.

But I never knew love for anyone but myself. In all the years

Of thundering through life, tearing sense away from my

World, it was not the thrill of the deed that won me. Nor the

Beauty of the women. It was my own sense of me, the pure

And true feeling of being the master of my destiny and the

Unabated vessel of my limitless soul. But God does not abide

Pride, the deadliest sin of all. He struck me low with the

Filthy fruits of a life just as filthy, and only now in my time of

Reckoning am I made humble.

As I pass into eternal damnation, I take comfort knowing that

Unlike most sinners, I have had a taste of what’s to come.

I have sat here, bearing my cross for almost a day now, and

I can’t see how the fires of hell could impress me now. The

Cruel, innocent fool that damned me has died in this putrid alley,

There will be no afterlife for him. He has been purged out of

Me by this horrid affliction, and I miss him not. To think

Of the life I could have led, clean of body and mind, free

Of debt and guilt. If that had occurred to me just once

In the fiery days of my recently lost youth, perhaps there

Could have been a different end to my short and meaningless

Story.

#writing #creative writing #cowboys #dramatic #tragic #monologues ✧#literature #I like this I hope you like it too

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thoughtsaladblog · 6 months

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Foolish One...

It's one of those days when you kinda wonder about your life. I mean ok, in my case I wonder that quite often, but it's a little stronger today. The other day I took a trip down memory lane and much to my chagrin I realised I may have been a bit more fast and loose with my life than I'd realised- and let me tell you...It didn't feel good. Suddenly images of hellfire loomed in front of me. Despite my constant quips about dying at 35- I realise that that may not be to my benefit, given my promiscuity.

Honestly, when it comes to random moments of everyday life, I take pride in my openness and somewhat carefree approach when it comes to love and sex- God knows, it took some pretty brutal batterings and scars to get there. I dare not let a man break me like that ever again. And yet, I am human, and I crave love and an intimate connection.

In the last few days, I've been feeling all kinds of frisky- that time of the month of course- but simultaneously I've craved a partner with whom I could simply sit and talk, or just make-out. Yep- you read that right. Make-out. I may be associating teenagers too much, because I thought I was over this nonsense. But here we are...

Anyway, looking into my life I searched for someone I could have that with and could find no one. None of the guys I know could possibly provide the kind of connection I seek- they barely manage to give me what I'm expecting in terms of sex- if they manage to do so at all. Speaking of which, Numb3rs (yes, he resurfaced) and I hooked up last night. It was Meh. I mean, the man's got potential, but I feel like he was trying to do a lot at once and didn't quite pull through in anything because of it. But more importantly- talk about selfish in bed. Dude came, turned over, said he's recovering and dozed off. Le Fuq??! Ummm... still here bro.. this is a two way street. *insert exasperated eyeroll*

And of course what followed was his usual hit it and quit it- the guy woke up at 4.30 and booked a cab back home. He might as well start leaving some money on the bedside table at this rate. And of course, because my dumbass is always drawn to the toxic motherfuckers, I'm fighting back my compulsion to think about him or feel things for him. It's a tough battle- coz I'm attracted to the dude. Don't ask me why- there's no rational reason other than the fact that I'm a lunatic who is just attracted to smart people and the fucker is smart. Feeling about as ridiculous Deepika in "New Year's Eve" at this point. But yes, I need to stop thinking or expecting anything- for the sake of my mental health. Coz foolish one, he was never interested.

But moving on from that... at the expense of sounding repetitive- yes, I went through some of my past posts...I get it, I really need to get a life instead of playing the same old broken record. Buuuut to continue... I'm starting to feel shamed of my promiscuous life and frankly could do with a stable relationship- if those exist. And maybe at this point stop collecting more sins of adultery to an already mile-long list...

I mean it been 31 years... Frankly even I'm judging myself at this point for being unable to lock down some poor soul.

And on a completely different note- I probably ought to re-read the few sensible "enlightened" posts form this blog and get some focus to my life instead of meandering through it. Might lead to less whining- and less repetitive posts.

All in good time, my dear.

K byeeee.

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delicatetheoristpainter · 1 year

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7 Best Practices for Building Client Relationships

A more intimate relationship tends to be more understanding, but that's not something you should take for granted. We asked Campbell to expand on ways to practice reciprocity and things to keep in mind when facing anyone from a sibling to an intimate partner to your boss. נערות ליווי בצפון I guess it depends on what he's saying. I guess we'll find out! I don't know, whenever he wants, I guess. I think it depends on the rule. That depends. Are they cool people? Men and women are attracted to various physical features, and some of them include large muscles, a radiant smile and shiny hair. I'll always be there to make someone smile. Then we have Lucy, who is kind of cranky a lot of the time, but who still manages to be loveable, and of course, there is Linus, one of the most sensitive souls in the history of cartoons, and there are many more characters that we haven't even touched on yet.

And there is a good reason for this. For example, Sims with high Friendship levels may be "Friends" or "Good Friends," whereas Sims with maxed Friendship and Romance are "Soulmates." Sims that the active Sim has met but has negligible relationship levels with are "Acquaintances." If the Friendship level is negative but the Romance level is high, you get a relationship label called "Enemies with Benefits". Amidst all the Tindering, Bumbling and obligatory coffee dates with your friend's brother's newly-single BFF, you stop and wonder: what kind of romance is meant for you? A therapist can also work with the child to help them form a healthier bond with their parent or caregiver. You don’t have to be an expert, but this will help you speak the same language as the client, understand what keeps them up at night, and cater your interaction and offerings accordingly. Before you wonder if you have picked the right person, you first need to find a reliable platform. But while someone's personality is super important in a relationship, most people tend to rely on looks as the first impression. I'm super fun to be around. Sure, that sounds fun!

That sounds silly. I love it! Ugh, that sounds awful. Ugh, that is so weird. Whether you're single or taken, we all have that Mr. Perfect guy that makes us swoon in our dreams. Somewhere in the middle would be perfect. I never could grasp the meaning of "perfect"-until I met you. Since Riri and the rapper made their relationship public, they've been spotted at several lavish industry events together - most notably they walked the red carpet hand in hand at the MET Gala. Zac met Ness earlier in the summer. Nothing, let the guy be with his friends. My dream guy doesn't work out. These are helpful dating profile examples, to aid you in figuring out a way to make it inviting. The issue derives its name from the way the model looks when it's drawn in an entity-relationship diagram: the linked tables 'fan out' from the master table. I'm a master of ignoring text messages. Often, a couple can settle into a pattern, even when it turns out that pattern doesn't work particularly well for one or both partners. Hang out with him and his friends! Hanging out with each other's friends.

We were better as friends. Have conversations to explain your boundaries to each other, but also pay attention and ask questions to understand them better. Dating detox was the best thing I could have ever done to turn my love life around. It may seem correct to think that Gideon deserved a reward for his faithful service, but when Gideon used the gold to make a statue he did a very foolish thing. Maybe he's passionate about animals and the arts, or perhaps he doesn't care about what other people think of him. As long as he's kind, I don't care. What Does the Bible Say About Christian Relationships? Thoughtfulness, consideration, and kindness is the recipe for healthy relationships. People working in Te Puna Aonui lead and champion change in systems, behaviours and attitudes to improve the wellbeing of people impacted by family violence and sexual violence. Relationships, and people, change over time. Unfortunately, by the time people realize they're in a relationship with a narcissistic partner, they're often far too deep and have already internalized what their partner's manipulated them into believing about themselves. I don't know. I have never thought about it.

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uncouth-the-fifth · 3 years

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imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

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