#OUT OF NOWHERE IMMEDIATELY AFTER I POSTED THIS I FIGURED OUT EXACTLY HOW THE CLOTHING FOLDS SHOULD LOOK

[literalfuckingfreak]

the proportions on this are way off but i rlly liked the sketch and wanted to draw it . hoping and praying ill have time/inspiration to color/ paint it . also the other thing im painting is making progress.. excited

[lannal0v3sbutshewrites]

I wrote a a thing about fem!reader and fallen!Adam. Inspired by a prompt I found: "How the fuck did you survive?" Anyway I'm new to posting on tumblr so take my okayish writing :>

1110 words

The hotel had been rebuilt and everyone was recovering from their wins and their losses. Sir Pentious was not forgotten, but his death did not depress the residents of the hotel. They all collectively agreed he wouldn’t’ve wanted that. On the other hand, Adam was dead. The thought made your stomach twist in an unwanted way. It was nowhere near pleasant and tiptoed the line of pain. It was just enough to cause an uneasy discomfort that sent chills down your spine.

Adam was no stranger to you by any means. What your newly found family at the hotel hadn’t figured out yet was that you were once an exorcist angel yourself. Vaggie didn’t recognise you, thankfully, and neither Adam nor Lute had gotten close enough to you during battle to properly see your face. You were sure if Adam saw you, he would recognise you immediately. And if Lute saw you, you might as well just give up right then and there.

Your position as an exorcist was right under Lute. You aimed to take her place, which caused her a certain distaste for you. Adam was fond of you, but only for the reason that your body count was the only one to rival Lute’s. Vaggie had been close behind you, but never catching up.

Vaggie fell before you, it was devastating at first, as you’d been somewhat of friends. But you never showed how you missed her. And in the end, it led to your falling. Adam had said something obnoxious and rude about Vaggie for the last time before an extermination and managed to irritate you just enough to the point where you snapped. The yelling from you that ensued caused Adam to simply leave you in Hell and declare you fallen.

But enough dwelling on your unpleasant past, even if the person standing in front of you is the one to bring it all up. A knock on the hotel’s doors was uncommon, but you were the only one to hear it, so you answered. What you did not expect was to see Adam, fallen, and still somewhat injured.

You had a burning hatred for him that consumed you at times but right now you couldn’t turn him away. He was clearly in pain, his face twisting into something of a smile, although his eyes said differently. You were conflicted, but had to make a quick decision before anyone else saw him and took matters into their own hands.

“Fine, quickly, don’t let anyone see you.” You ushered him inside, keeping an eye out for other residents or staff.

He followed you, uttering a small ‘Thank you’. You brought him to your room, double checking the door was locked before gesturing for him to sit down on your bed.

“How the actual fuck did you survive that? And why did you come here of all places? I’m sure that if anyone but Charlie or I had answered the door, you’d be dead for good.”

Adam looked at you properly for a moment. “Why didn’t you kill me? I left you here to die not 6 months ago.”

“Because Charlie’s hotel is about redemption and when I came here, she didn’t turn me away. So I won’t turn anyone away until they give me a valid reason to. You clearly came here because not a single place in hell wants you after what you’ve done.”

Adam nodded, “Well, would it be too much to ask you to help me?” He smiled sheepishly, gesturing to the wound on his stomach.

“Fine. But it’s gonna hurt like a bitch.” You went to look for supplies to clean and stitch the wound, “I suppose you don’t have anything other than those clothes, so I will make an outing later to fetch you some. Start thinking about what you want because we don’t exactly have anything heavenly down here.

He pulled off the golden blood stained robes he wore, leaving him in an undershirt. You brought over a medical kit and took scissors to cut the fabric that was practically glued to his skin by dried blood. The scissors slid through the shirt with ease. Pulling it off the wound however, was not easy.

You gently wiped at the blood with a soft washcloth soaked in rubbing alcohol. Adam hissed as you attempted to dissolve the blood and pull the stained cloth of his wounds. Once it was removed, you began cleaning the skin around the wound. It became apparent that there were many individual stab wounds, some so close to each other, the flesh between them had simply ripped apart at one point. Niffty didn’t do too bad of a job, if only she’d had a bigger knife.

Next, came the cleaning of the actual wound. His skin had already begun to knit itself back together towards the middle of the wound, so both sides would need to be stitched. You started with his stomach, pouring rubbing alcohol over the wound and holding back the urge to laugh at Adam’s pain. He was an asshole after all, so he kind of deserved it.

You hand Adam a clean washcloth, “Here, put this in your mouth to bite on if you need to. We can’t afford anyone knowing that you’re here yet.

He took the cloth and hesitantly put it in his mouth, “You need to lay on your back for this.” It really wasn’t ideal for him to be sitting up while you stitched the wounds on his front.

You began to stitch the small holes together, scolding Adam everytime he tried to move away. Once you finished, he sat up so you could do his back. The process was the same, pouring rubbing alcohol over the wounds and then stitching them. When you finished, you felt almost proud of how nicely you’d closed the wounds.

The easy part was bandaging him up. Just some gauze on either side and wrap it up with some bandages. But now you had to buy him clothes. Which would be pretty hard considering he only ever wore that god-awful robe.

“Okay Adam, what kind of clothes do you want?” You spoke, anticipating something dumb to come from his mouth the second you said anything. You also handed him some pain meds and a glass of water.

He took the medication and seemed almost defeated when he spoke, “Just something to make me fit in, not many people know my face alone.” His usual arrogance seemingly absent.

“Well, I suppose I can manage something. Don’t leave this room, If anyone knocks, hide quietly and pretend you aren’t here. Stay out of trouble, Adam.”

[andreas-river]

He's Like Art [Nikto X Fem!Reader]

Summary: They always told you that Nikto was a monster- but you never believed them. And you were right.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, mention and description of sex, fem!reader. 18+ MDNI!

Disclaimer: I do not own any MW characters. English is not my native language.

From the result of this poll.

Cross-Posted on AO3 here.

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You can't stand him anymore.

It's the thought of him that reverberates in your body, you still see his blue eyes watching you, trying to run towards you, getting carried away and fainting in the arms of the enemy.

Or his body pinning yours, the wall on your back taking your breath away - no more movement, the eyes of the predator staring at you, his prey caught in his arms, but his fangs are nowhere to be seen, and that's not because of the mask that covers his face.

Or your arms around his waist, stopping his pacing around the room for the first time, almost as if his soul is leaving his body - and then he's back, turning away to hide the tears in his eyes, too proud to show them, even if you already knew it.

Or his other self, cold, loveless, it's almost like having a corpse that can walk, a trembling mass trapped inside himself, his hands reaching for you as if floating in nothingness, your body the only thing that can give him hope, the survival instinct kicking in and finally hitting back at you - you don't even care about the numerous bruises on your arms, waist or legs, or even shoulder to neck.

Or his eyes, impenetrable walls, swimming on yours, making their way into your heart - or the walls of your private parts, stretching you, realigning all your limbs, hitting points and hungrily devouring your tongue, abandoning your body to him, his hands wandering over your skin, your hips, your chest, getting carried away by him, surrendering to him, possessing your body and soul, making you a small trembling body under him, your mind blank from the start.

You open your eyes abruptly, stretching your stiff body, staring at the ceiling while your mind slowly remembers the past day and you feel goosebumps on your skin.

It wasn't your first time, but it looked like it: he knew exactly where and how to put his hands, or his lips or-

The door of your room was pushed wide open, a slender figure entered-Rodion, then the door was closed again: blue eyes stared at you, the sly smile on his face made you curl up in the blankets.

"Details please!" You feel his weight at your side and gasp in annoyance as he pulls the blankets off your body.

He was being obnoxious.

And yet your best friend.

"Yes," you said simply, feeling a familiar heat rise in your face. You can still feel him.

"Yes... what?" he stared at you, not letting go.

"Yes, we DID it!" you almost yell, then slap your hand over your mouth. For all you know, he could even be on the other side of the door.

He started giggling, at which point you jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom: In the mirror you saw someone you didn't immediately recognize: your lips were a little swollen and red, your hair a complete mess, and a purple mark on your neck- shit.

At least it's not summer.

¤

Later in the day, after all the questions from Rodion, you knew you'd soon come face to face with him. That's when the thought hit you like a runaway train as you wandered the corridors of the base.

You love him.

But you're not sure it's the same for him.

You stop in front of a door, instinctively your feet had brought you to the one person who filled your thoughts. You knock on the door and wait for an answer.

It was faster than expected, in front of you stood a man, not a monster as many think- wearing only normal clothes: no protection, a scarf that reached only to the nose, the rest of the face free of his usual balaclava, no visible weapons- at least. He always carries a pistol. "You never know," was his response.

"You came here to stare at me?" his voice snapped you back to reality, you try to ignore the goosebumps on your skin and take out a small box from your pocket, which he hands you.

"Ibuprofen." You've already noticed that the room behind him was completely dark and that he regularly retreated to his room without ever leaving it, without making a sound, only discovering his migraine later.

He really didn't expect that, his blue eyes filled with a different light. He beckons you in, closing the door behind him and leaving the room in a dim light, your eyes catching only the outline of his body nestled against yours, almost touching, and you don't even notice that he's sandwiching you between him and the wall.

"You should run." He says in a firm voice, but he doesn't let his arms leave your side.

"I don't want to." You stare into his eyes again, like a deer in headlights.

You catch a glimpse of part of his scarred face, part of it like he's been burned, the rest just scars, healed on the outside, less so on the inside.

You slowly take his face in your small hands and notice that he no longer twitches. You caress him, trying to reach his soul - he has already given it to you, you were so different from the beginning: you always managed to get under his skin, to destroy all his defenses and at the same time make him feel protected.

He lets out a little sigh, leans his body against yours, and his lips burn on the skin of your neck, returning to the same place as last night, making you giggle with the tickle of his lips.

"Again?" you ask him breathlessly, your heart already racing, his lips twisting into a slight smile that gives him a serene expression.

"And more."

[kookieskiwi]

𝐌𝐚���𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pairing: Shuntaro Chishiya x Fem!Reader x Suguru Niragi

Summary: The borderlands were already dark, they made you numb to death so long as you survived. When you become the object of desire for two psychopathic and sociopathic men, one of which is your ex lover, you find it harder to drown out the emotions you’re feeling and demons you're facing. Do you give into the dark desires and madness? But...aren’t we all already mad here?

Warnings: Explicit language, sexual situations, murder, death, manipulation, psychoanalyses, drugs, alcohol, suicidal thoughts and tendencies, more to be added as I write.

Genre: Alice in Borderland, very dark romance, angst, smut, a little fluff if you squint

Rating: Whoever is mature enough to handle the warnings above but recommended to ages 15 and older. DO NOT read if you are triggered by any of the things listed above.

Word Count: 5k

[Taglist] @bonnyskies @mylifeisafxingmess @kasaikawa @mercipourleslivres @dragoneye01 @bubb1ee-gum@nocturne181 @somegirl29 @pajerita19 @ddaenysus @imagine-t-h-a-ttt @queentorresstuff @rebirth-of-destruction @celestiacq @ryreads @beeissleepy

A note from your author — I’m so sorry this took so long, I just got out for summer vacation after an extremely stressful year so I’ll be way more active now. I have decided (with much hype from @imagine-t-h-a-ttt ) to post this in parts so I could give y’all something in appreciation for dealing with me. Expect more soon!! (It might not be AiB exclusively but I will be writing more)

The borderlands was a place where anyone and everyone was alone for themselves when it came to survival. “It’s every man for themselves,” you’d often tell yourself after a game since you walked away, sometimes alone, and others didn’t. After participating in your first heart’s game you learned that, and it was forever engraved into your mind. When you were cruelly taken from the real world you were alone in your room after your nightly shift as an SDF officer. All of a sudden the lights went out whilst you were changing out of your uniform before a shower which you never got to take. Deciding to investigate the outage, you threw your uniform back on and unbuttoned the jacket revealing your black sleeveless undershirt while keeping your green cargo style uniform pants and combat boots on. After grabbing your knife and placing it into your thigh holster, you explored your neighborhood to find that everyone was gone, cars were randomly in the street as if they had been stopped out of nowhere, and you were in fact alone.

“What the fuck is this?” You whispered to yourself as you were pulling out your phone to contact your friends only to see that it was dead. “Fantastic,” you grumbled, rolling your neck to the side to crack it and relieve the tension. Venturing back to your home you thought over what this could possibly be; an evacuation drill? Maybe a nightmare? Were you daydreaming again? No, this was too real and too strange to be any of those things. You needed to get out of this area, inspect and observe other parts of Tokyo to see what was going on. You thought you could find answers before it turned dark since it was only morning so you rushed home to pack a few things before heading out.

While at home, you grabbed your backpack and in it you put; a change of clothes, three water bottles, pain pills and a few snacks as well as your phone and charger in case you could figure out a way for it to work. In a haste you also threw on your side holster which held your nine millimeter handgun and two packs of ammo for extra precautions. After that, you set out on your search of the city. The first thing you thought of was to get in one of those abandoned vehicles however even though they were full of fuel, they wouldn’t start. “So phones and vehicles don’t work, neither does anything powered by electricity. Great.”

With that newly found information, you stepped out of the vehicle and began the long walk across Tokyo. Along the way you inspected stores, homes and even government buildings but found no trace of anyone but yourself. Where did everyone go? It looked so desolate without the constant buzz of people around walking, the tourists, the neon billboards. Everything was...dead. You spent the entire day walking further into the abandoned city which was once lively yet found nothing other than a restaurant with food which you took the liberty to eat at.

Upon nightfall, you were looking for a place to stay when a billboard lit up drawing your attention to it immediately. “This way to the game arena,” it read with an arrow pointing to the left. Turning your head in that direction you saw an area in the distance brightened by lights while everything else was still surrounded in darkness. “Game arena?” You whispered in confusion. Looking around at your surroundings you didn’t see any other lights other than that building which looked to be about three blocks away. You followed the arrows leading you to the designated arena which looked to be a botanical tea garden from a distance. You slowly approached the building while keeping your hand close to the blade strapped on your thigh in case someone or something appeared. As soon as you stepped across the final set of stairs leading up to the entrance, a line of red lasers appeared and quickly turned blue when a sound similar to that of a confirmation resonated in the area. “What is this?”

“It’s the threshold of the arena.” Turning in the direction of the voice, you saw a familiar face step next to you with the same sound chiming at her entry. “Holyn? How did you get here? Are you okay?” You asked quickly before hugging her out of relife, you were more than happy to see a familiar face in this apocalyptic place. She was your childhood best friend, the only reason you hadn’t seen or heard from her in a while was because of both of your working lives.She hugged you back even tighter as she was feeling the same way you were, scared, alone and confused. When the two of you released each other she began explaining everything she knew to you as the both of you started walking into the garden.

“I got here a few days ago and since then, I’ve asked around to see what others know about whatever the hell is going on. No one knows how we got here or what exactly this place is but everyone is made to participate in games of survival. You must participate or you’ll die. After winning a game, you keep the phone you had and you’ll be supplied with a visa. The visa tells you how long you have until you’re out of time here which is why you have to participate in games to renew it before it runs out. You must win each game, there is no other way to survive if you don’t. Do everything it takes so you live and move on. Anything with an electric circuit board or IC chip does not work whereas analog equipment like radios work and so do older vehicles.” She explained quickly as more people came into view. Your mind fogged with all of the new information, it was so much to take in. Then you realized you were just thrown into a game of survival and like she said; you HAD to win to survive. “But-” you had just begun when she silenced you, “pretend you’ve been here and done this. I know you’re confused and probably scared shitless but just pretend.” She instructed as you both entered the arena and quickly added one thing, “I don’t want to continue playing after this, I killed someone Y/n.” But before you could respond she shook her head and you did as she said, silencing yourself and putting on the facade you had mastered over the years.

Upon entry, you almost immediately noticed the two groups of people to the right each containing about six people and consisting of both males and females and the other group of six men. Gauging their distance to and from each other you could conclude the individuals in each group had played together previously and probably had strategies to compete with. As you and Holyn approached the area the others stood around, you glanced down to the table in front of all of you. ‘One per person’ the sign read with approximately twenty phones laid out beside it. Each of you grabbed a random phone and stepped away from the table into your own spaces, you and Holyn sticking closely together. If everything with a circuit board was destroyed, then why did these phones work? In the middle of your questioning the phone screen lit up with the text ‘facial recognition in progress’ before switching to another screen as you looked at the others subtly to see they were looking around as well.

“Registration has closed,” the phone chimed causing each of you to glance down at the small screen. “There are twenty participants. Game: Queen of cards.”

“Rules,” the automated voice said, “After putting on the designated collars you will be divided into two teams, one team will be the Jacks while the other is the Queen of Hearts. Find the Queen of Hearts, take her phone and find the safe zone. If the Queen is not found, it is game over for the Jacks. If the Queen is found, it is game over for her.”

“Does this mean it’s one girl against the rest of us?” Holyn asked with a small crack in her voice, making hit her as a sign to be quiet and do exactly what she told you to do. The two of you grabbed the collars they had laid out on the table, placing them on your neck after close inspection. You needed to seem like you had done this before, the last thing you needed was to be seen as the weaklings or newbies. “It’s a Hearts game, of course that’s what it means. We are supposed to turn on each other and play with others minds. It makes sense.” A male with his arms crossed over his chest said. He had played before, you could tell. The group of men he came with looked like they had been here for a while based on their appearance and calmness towards the situation.

“What do you mean ‘It’s a heart's game’?” A girl who looked to be about seventeen asked. It was obvious she was new to this like you, however, you weren’t letting anyone know that. “When you see the game card, you know the type of game and the difficulty of it. Heart games are those of psychological torture and betrayal where you mess with your opponents or friends minds and emotions. Diamond games are ones of minds and intelligence, often including solving riddles or puzzles. Clubs are by far the safest there is given they are teamwork and unity games. Spade games are physical, they test your stamina and endurance. The number of the cards tell you the difficulty levels; one being the easiest and ten being the hardest.” Another man explained to the girls. You listened attentively while looking down at your phone noticing this was a six of hearts game. Hearts. There had to be a way to do this without betrayal. But before you could think of anything further you were interrupted by the phone which spoke once more.

“The Queen will have one minute to hide before Jack's time starts, but she wont know she is the Queen until Jack's time begins.” The feminine AI voice instructed once more. The girls were to be hunted by the boys and even if they weren’t the Queen the males wouldn’t know. Even if it was a best friend. You noticed when the others came to the same realization as you as one guy started profusely apologizing to a girl who was shaking. This is a game of survival. “So that means-”

“You girls better run.” It came from one of the men and said with a sinister smirk. All the guys had to do to ensure survival was take our phones and get to the undisclosed safezone. However this was more than that. You saw the weapons on a board in the distance and you knew you weren’t the only one who did. Without a second thought, you grabbed Holyn’s hand and ran as fast as you could to get the farthest from any other person, vividly aware of the knife you still had on your thigh. She quickly followed behind although she didn’t have much of a choice with your iron-like grip on her wrist. After running a sufficient distance from the others you ducked into the shrubbery and crawled towards a dark corner to hide from anyone’s sight. She sat across from you as you both tried to calm your breathing while keeping yourselves hidden from anyone who might pass by. The phone chimed again, “Hiding time is up,” the voice said while a new timer appeared on your phone. “Ten minutes,” it read. An alarm sounded throughout the arena echoing off the walls of the indoor tea garden. “The game will now commence,” you heard just before seeing your screen turn balck temporarily with your role on it.

“Thank goodness, I’m a Jack. You are too right?” Holyn asked as you turned off your phone and looked at her with a smile as her voice echoed in your mind, “you must win each game, there’s no other way to survive,” so you pushed away the dread in your chest and replied “me too.”

No. You were the Queen.

The two of you sat still for about five minutes listening to the shouts and screams of the others until you heard sets of footsteps coming in your direction causing the two of you to duck down onto your stomachs out of fear. In the distance you heard a feminine scream echo off the glass walls followed by shattering sounds and more screams of “I’m not her” or “It’s not me” followed by the sounds of struggles. “Come out come out wherever you are,” one of the men closer to you called. You could tell he was near and if you two didn’t move, he'd find you.”We found the safe zone but none of the girls were queens,” you heard one say, “damnit, if they were still alive they could help us,’ the other commented making your stomach drop. “We need to run,” who whispered to Holyn knowing those men would have no issue killing you to survive. “Three minutes remaining,” the time was announced but you could hardly hear it due to your pulse thudding in your ears.

“Now,” you called quietly queuing the both of you to jump up and run, but it didn’t go unnoticed by the men. “There they are!” One shouted followed by the heavy stomps of footsteps behind you as they set in on the chase. “It’s only the two of you, just give us the phone and you’ll live.” You ignored him and kept sprinting towards the place you knew there were weapons. Without another thought you grabbed two weapons and handed one to Holyn to defend yourselves with until she came to the realization you loathed. “You’ve been the queen this entire time!?” She shouted at you as the stomping sound got closer and closer. “I’m sorry! You said to do anything it takes to survive.” You responded with tears clouding your vision. Never in your life would you have thought you’d be choosing your life over your best friend’s, not when the two of you had gone through everything together. “Two minutes remaining,” the voice announced reminding you of your impending fate. Holyn looked at you with emotions you couldn’t decipher, but you saw the way she relaxed even if it was slight. Why was she glad you chose yourself over her?

“Come on, let’s hide.” She said grabbing your hand and this time, she was the one dragging you along. She veered off to the right pulling you behind a fountain and kept running until the two of you collapsed onto the ground. “Remember when you turned fifteen and we decided to sneak out?” she reminisced laying between your legs against your chest. “Yeah, our parents almost killed us, we were grounded for months.” you giggled despite the tears falling from your eyes. As memories of you both flooded your mind you acted without control and shouted, “Over he--” to let the men know your location but you were interrupted by her hand clasping over your mouth tightly to silence you as she yanked you backwards into the shadows. “Shh,” she whispered, calming you while you sobbed into her hand, “I want you to live on for me, okay? Beat this game, we both know you are the only one who can. I know you can. I’ll be helping you from above if I can.” She soothed laying her head on top of yours.

“One minute remaining”

The tears wouldn’t stop as you moved to hug her tightly, never wanting to let go. “I’m so sorry.” you choked out in between gasps for air. Everything was too much, too loud, time was moving too quickly, you heard the men rapidly shouting and searching for you two as you clung to your best friend. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, the seconds flew by while you were holding the only person you had left before she was to die. “I’m not. Thank you Y/n, I wouldn’t have made it any further anyways, I’m glad I can help you move forward. Don’t let me die in vain.” She told you kissing the top of your head before roughly pushing you off to get you away from her. “Holyn!” You shouted trying to latch back onto her when suddenly the collar around her neck exploded and her blood splattered everywhere. Your eyes and mouth opened wide in shock at what you had just seen. You could feel the specks of blood all over your face and body while you stared at her now decapitated one lying in front of you. She had just died, and it was because of you, because you were selfish and confused all while being scared.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there in total silence until you just collapsed onto the cold, hard floor beneath your feet. The silence was interrupted by your blood curdling scream of pure agony that echoed throughout the enclosed building. Your head came into contact with the ground when you curled over your knees and screamed once again while grabbing at your hair and banging your forehead against the cement. Tears flowed out of both your eyes as you cried out in horror, unable to rid your mind of the events that just occurred. You screamed until your throat was raw and your voice hoarse, you could feel the clumps of hair you pulled out of your scalp as your fingers dug deeper into your skull and worst of all, you knew you were alone now.

For days, you were numb. Five days to be exact. You didn’t do much but sleep, cry, eat, walk aimlessly to a new location and then repeat it all again the next day. You couldn’t shake the immense feeling of guilt you felt when you woke each morning knowing Holyn wouldn’t because of you. It wasn’t until you played your next game, an eight of spades, that you snapped out of the haze your emotions put you in. During the game, you had to climb a tree fast enough to avoid the arrows being shot at you from below as the height the arrows were shot increased each minute as you ascended the tree. You were ahead of the others until one man decided to start pulling at your ankles to hold you back which eventually turned into him trying to make you lose your grip and fall. In the moment he yanked your body down, you almost completely lost your grip on the branch keeping you from falling. It was then that you realized you weren’t going to let Holyn die in vain, you’d survive and push through everything to honor her memory.

After that, the “acquaintances” you made between or during games never meant much to you because in the end, you could only count on and rely on yourself to ensure your survival. You stopped moping around and became the version of yourself you had always wanted to become, the one that allowed you to turn off your emotions and step away from your chaotic thoughts. You now lived for yourself and yourself only, but even then, you never killed anyone intentionally.

A few days passed by but you couldn’t tell exactly how long you had been in this hell hole. You only played games when it was necessary which was only about two days before your visa expired. After overhearing someone in a two of Spades game talk about a place called “the Beach” and the people there “knowing how to get out here,” you started observing those who played games when you didn’t. It only took a few nights to see the connection between the group of people who entered games with tag numbers on their wrists being the ones who walked out. After you played a couple games with people with the tags on their wrists, you were convinced they knew something about the strategy of the games. Lingering in the shadows, you watched the participants of the game walk out of the arena and head down the street while you quietly followed behind. You must’ve walked for five minutes before you noticed where exactly the group was headed; a vehicle. “But I thought..” you whispered to yourself in confusion seeing them jump into the four seater 1970 cadillac while you stood still in your hidden position wondering what they were doing. Upon hearing the ignition of the engine you remembered Holyn telling you only older modeled vehicles were able to work here, but where did they find fuel? Not once had you seen an operable fuel station. “There must be fuel at the beach, there has to be,” you thought to yourself, watching as they drove off which only made you more determined to find this place and get the answers to your questions. And with that thought in mind, you set out on a journey to find this so-called “beach.”

As the vehicle drove further from your sight, you started jogging in order to tail them to their location while still keeping yourself out of sight. You ran for around fifteen minutes before you saw a building in the distance, a building which had power unlike everything else in the city. Seeing the destination, you stopped running and took a while to slow your breathing and regain your energy. “So this is the Beach,” you sighed observing the structure and its surroundings. The building itself seemed to be four stories tall and included a large pool in front where people partied as if they weren’t fighting for their lives everyday. You approached a fence which seemed to outline the perimeter of the area and carefully leaned over it as if you were watching a child’s game. You saw the vast amounts of people give into the pleasures of ignorance while deafening music thrummed in the background, even from the great distance you were, you could slightly feel the vibrations of the bass in your chest.

“Ah who's this?” you heard a cynical voice ask rhetorically from behind you. At the sudden and unexpected presence you jumped, turning around and swinging your fist to punch whoever it was out of instinct. When your right hand came in contact with a face your left twisted to grab the knife you still carried on your thigh in a holster. Just as you grasped ahold of the handle one of the two people delivered a knockout-blow to the side of your head just behind your temple which caused you to instantly lose consciousness.

When you awoke you were sitting in a chair with your hands tied loosely behind your back onto the chair with what felt like a burlap bag over your head. You let out a small groan of discomfort feeling your head pulse due to your new injury, one you would have to repay later on. Upon hearing your groan, the bag was swiftly removed from your head allowing the bright lights of the room to flood your vision which hadn’t adjusted making you shut your eyes with a silent wince. After blinking a few times you get adjusted, you were finally able to scan your surroundings. In front of you stood a man with shoulder-length hair, blsck sunglasses, an open kimono and red swim trunks, to his left stood a man with buzzed hair, a black muscle shirt and green military pants who you instantly recognized.

“Aguni?” You asked with confusion seeing the man you used to work with. He was here too? You weren’t surprised he was still alive, the man was invincible when you worked with him. And just like back then, he was silent, he only gave a small nod of his head to you as a response before reassuming his statue-like stance. To his right was a man with silver hair, a white Nike hoodie and blue swim shorts who looked at you in an inquisitive manner with tired yet sharp eyes. Two women who had black hair were standing to his right and a man covered in tattoos stood further off to the side holding a sword long in length, possibly a katana. A few other people were staggered around the room but none of them seemed to be as ‘important’ as the few that you noticed immediately.

“Aguni-san? You know her?” The man in the kimono asked the latter with creased brows showing obvious confusion. “We worked at the SDF together. She was my partner before we were assigned to different segments, she’d be a good addition to the executives or militants.” He responded while putting in a good word for you. “Someone like her? An SDF officer? If you hadn’t told me, Aguni-san, I would have never known.” The man remarked crossing his arms over his chest while walking over to a desk which he leaned on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” You questioned with a scowl in his direction as your fingers fiddled with the ropes binding your wrists. You would be able to get out of them in a matter of minutes if no one noticed what you were trying to do, but it seemed the man in the white hoodie already noticed as he raised his brow in your direction with an impressed smirk on his stoic face. “A pretty, small woman like yourself...I would’ve thought you’d be tagging along with someone and not alone. Actually I would’ve thought you’d be dead by now, much less an SDF officer.” He commented with a wry smile fanning out all your cards which contradicted his statement.

“If my cards tell you anything, you should know you’re wrong,” you hummed, resuming your attempt to loosen the ropes. “Ah yes your cards,” he began while pushing himself off the desk and slowly pacing around the room, “we want you to become a resident at the Beach after seeing the cards you’ve gathered. And after learning of your pastime, you would be a great addition to the team either way.” Of course he would want you once he saw the games you had played, you were good at surviving meaning you’d also be efficient in getting him the rest of the cards. “And if I don’t want to become a resident?” You questioned poking the inside of your cheek with your tongue out of habit. You were doing just fine on your own and definitely did not need this place, however, it seemed like they needed you. Or they needed your cards more so than yourself.

“Well if you choose to stay, you’ll be able to get out of this game quicker. We have a theory that once we collect all the playing cards, one person will be able to go back to the normal world. And if you choose not to stay, well, you can walk away from here but we will keep your cards. We have gathered all the weapons in the city, we regularly gather rain water and food which the game makers seem to replenish once a week, you’ll be taken care of here.” He explained pausing directly in front of you waiting for a response. Did no one else see the problem with him? How he was manipulating everyone to get the cards under the false security that they’d get to leave too? Or was everyone here really THAT ignorant? “It seems like you take my cards either way hm?” You suggested in a hum cocking your head to the right slightly in question. “You’re correct. However, now you would be higher in the rankings and an executive after making such a great contribution and having the skill set you supposedly possess.” He told you in an attempt to persuade you into staying while adding a bit of sweetness to the word ‘contribution’. When you simply looked at him with a bored gaze, he sighed and continued speaking.

“If you decide to stay there are only three rules. 1) "always wear a bathing suit". This is to be sure no one is hiding any weapons which is why our militants don’t have to wear them if chosen to do so. Rule 2) "be free to live your life exactly as you wish including alcohol, drugs and sex" and the third and last rule: "death to traitors".” He enlightened you on the standards they lived by to help you make your decision. It didn’t seem like it would be a bad choice if you chose to stay here, you’d have food, shelter, and people you didn’t know in case you had to play another game of hearts.

“I’ll stay but I want my knife back, if I have to wear a bathing suit you’ll be able to see it anytime since I wear it on my thigh.” You compromised whilst completely freeing your hands from their bound position but still holding the rope to hide suspicions. You hated the fact you’d have to wear a swimsuit because your scars would be visible but if it meant you could have your knife, you’d be more than willing. Hearing a few chuckles resonate around the room at your demand you brought your attention to one of the men in the back of the room who had a bandage on his cheek and a black eye. It was easy to come to the conclusion that he was the one you punched earlier, and the thought of that made you smile with pride while looking at him.

“You are in no position to make demands, sweetheart,” he practically snarled at you. You hated being called sweetheart, it not only made you cringe but it infuriated you beyond measure. With a deadly glare, you let go of the rope and stood from the chair in a swift motion and threw the ropes at him without a word which said everything you needed to. However, just as he caught the ropes you could hear the door being slammed open followed by a voice which was all too familiar.

“The traitors are dead,” the unknown man announced in a tone of pride, kicking the door closed behind him. His voice instantly brought back memory after memory causing you to turn your head in shock in order to make sure you were hearing things correctly. The man you were looking at looked nothing like the one you once knew. This one had piercings on his nose and eyebrow while he sported an automatic rifle on his shoulder and a psychotic smile on his face. “Niragi?” You whispered in shock, still unable to believe your eyes. Was this the same boy you stood up for in high school? He looked so....different. What exactly happened to the sweet, shy boy you once fell in love with? “Y/N?” He questioned letting his mouth fall open the slightest but before he regained his composure. It was him, Suguru Niragi, the first and only man you’ve ever truly fallen in love with, but also the man who disappeared without a trace three years ago. You knew he had left you, it wasn’t hard to figure that much out, but you never knew why and quite frankly, you didn’t care anymore. You had moved on.

“Fantastic! Another one of our own knows this charming young woman, this will make things a lot easier. Niragi, you may take her to the locker rooms so she can change into some fitting attire then you can get her an ID bracelet and take her to her room.” The man who you noticed had a bracelet tagged 001, exclaimed with a clap of his hands as he was instructing Niragi to get you settled in. “She can do it on her own,” Niragi scoffed with a roll of his eyes which had you throwing your head back in a sarcastic chuckle. “I’ll take her,” someone insisted from the side. Glancing in the direction the voice resounded you noticed the short pale man with the silver hair stepping out towards you. He seemed oddly familiar as well but you couldn’t quite place it.

“That’s settled then. Now, my knife?” You quipped raising a brow at the ‘leader’ in the kimono just before someone came from behind you pressing a cold piece of metal to your throat while their other arm was holding your arms in place by your waist. The room went silent as everyone watched what was about to unfold in front of them, Aguni simply rolled his eyes with a sigh knowing what was about to happen. “You mean this knife?” The man teased, his voice was one you recognized from one of the two men that brought you to this place and all you wanted in that moment was to stab him for that. So, naturally, you settled for the next best thing. Pushing your head forward a little while trying not to move your neck, you watched Niragi’s expression as you threw your head backwards with all your force resulting in hitting the unknown man’s nose.

When the back of your skull came into contact with his face he immediately lessened his grip on you which allowed you to slip out of his grasp and take your knife from his hand. With your knife in hand, you grabbed his wrist, twisting it and bending his arm behind his back while your other arm placed him in a chokehold. You leaned in close to his ear as he was fighting your hold before pulling him back harshly, putting pressure on his windpipe, “Never, and I mean NEVER, touch my knife again. Got it?” You growled and if you were being honest, you would’ve intimidated yourself. You didn’t wait for a response as you pushed him forward only to watch him fall onto the ground with a soft thud. “Now,” you sighed looking up with a smile which could’ve been seen as both innocent or sinister, “let’s go,” you said slipping your knife into the holster on your thigh. The man with the white hair stepped forward with his hands in his pockets and came to your side, briefly looking at Niragi before turning his attention to you. “Let’s go, shall we?”

[blurglesmurfklaine]

Thanks for the Doritos!

Pairing: Klaine | Rating: T | Words: 1,410 | Tropes/Genres: BabBoy!Blaine, humor, friends to lovers, crime

Summary: Kurt and BadBoy!Blaine try to lift some chips from the local convenience store. Things don't go exactly as planned.

A/N: did i proofred this? no <3 i was anxious about my first day back at work and wrote this instead sorry not sorry Based on this this batshit tumblr post that gives me ALL the serotonin warnings for a non-canon character holding a gun and crime ig

Continue Reading Below or Read on AO3

“This is stupid. It’s not gonna work.”

“How would you know? We haven’t even tried it.”

“I feel like there’s a better way to satiate your case of the munchies than shoplifting from a Seven-Eleven.”

“The clerk gets paid the same whether or not the bastard CEOs of the company lose a couple of bucks. Unless you’ve magically conjured up a wad of cash?”

“You know I haven’t.” Kurt almost growls. Blaine doesn’t mean it that way, but they’ve had enough conversations about Burt’s medical bills that he should know tight money is a sensitive topic for Kurt. The defensive fire in his belly dies down a little when Blaine reaches out to squeeze his hand—his free one holding his trusty skateboard—reminding Kurt he’s not alone in his suffering.

Until meeting Blaine, Kurt would spend his afternoons at home, with nothing except reruns of Golden Girls to keep him company while he prepared his dad’s dinner.

And then one cold October afternoon, while Kurt was hiding from Karofsky and Azimio under the bleacher, he nearly tripped over a mass of black clothing. The bundle of black subsequently sat up, revealing a head of unkempt curls and a disgruntled snarl that softened into a smirk upon seeing Kurt’s face.

He offered Kurt a cigarette, his hand, and his name.

Ever since then, Blaine has shown Kurt in numerous ways that you don’t need to do anything to have a good time. All you need is a roof, the night, and two people who, for some reason neither can quite explain, care about each other.

“Don’t act so high and mighty, Hummel. We both know you’re no stranger to theft.”

“I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”

Blaine looks over and makes a dramatic pouty face, complete with pleading puppy-dog eyes that make Kurt’s knees too weak for his liking. “Tell that to my weeping heart. I’m still picking up the pieces from you refusing my several offers of marriage.”

Kurt’s face burns red and he huffs, yanking his hand away. Blaine always does this. Ruins the moment with some dramatic, over-the-top fake flirting, as if he doesn’t know what he looks like—as if he doesn’t know Kurt’s head over heels for one of McKinley High’s most notorious bad boys. For God’s sake, he’s about to commit a misdemeanor just to get him a couple of bugles. Of course he’s in love with Blaine.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“As you wish.”

Kurt walks in first, gives a friendly smile and half-wave to the cashier before heading to the chip aisle. He loiters there for a minute or two before Blaine walks in, heading straight to the counter where he’ll pretend to be looking for a specific cigarette brand he can’t remember the name of.

The second the clerk has his back turned, Kurt ducks to the ground and rips open his backpack, quickly and quietly throwing an assortment of chips in, only pausing when he grabs a bag of Doritos. A smile cracks his face; they’re Blaine’s favorite.

He’s so preoccupied with putting extra ones in there, that he doesn’t even hear the ding from the bell of the front door.

The way Blaine will tell the story to Kurt later that night—and to others for years to come—he’ll say that the first thing he saw was the barrel of a shotgun sticking up above the stand of newspapers by the entrance, and that’s all it took for him to rush to Kurt’s side.

Kurt’s zipping up the backpack when there’s a familiar hand on his shoulder, and Blaine’s panicked face in front of his.

“Guy with a gun just walked in,” he exhales in a terrified breath.

Kurt’s eyes go wide as dinner plates, and although the shouting he can hear coming from the front of the store confirms it, he still can’t believe it. “There’s—what!?” he whisper-shouts. Almost instinctively, he tries to stand up to look over the aisle, but Blaine drags him back down.

“Get down!”

“Oh fuck,” Kurt cries, adrenaline spiking when he hears the robber’s angry shouts of curse words and demands of money. “We have to do something.”

Blaine nods, and his immediate agreement makes Kurt fall that much more in love with this idiot. “He can’t see us here. I’ll stay here, you go to the next aisle over. I’ll create a distraction, and I need you to—god, Kurt, if anything happens to you,” he places a tan hand in Kurt’s pale face, and the warmth makes Kurt gasp, “I need you to leave okay? Don’t you dare wait for me. Call the cops when you’re out.”

“But I—”

“Call the cops.”

There’s no time to argue, so Kurt just nods and hurriedly crouches his way to the right, until he’s in the aisle out of the robber’s eye line, but can still see him.

A second later, he hears Blaine’s skateboard collide with the metal of the counter and figures that’s his cue to run.

Now’s his chance to run straight out of the convenience store, like Blaine told him to. Like he most certainly should… but the robber’s turning towards the chip aisle, where Blaine is. The robber is turning to the chip aisle where Blaine is and has a fucking gun, and after months of overthinking this thing he has with Blaine—a friendship, but also implicitly more—Kurt doesn’t think at all.

With the robber’s back to him, Kurt breaks out into a sprint and tackles the lanky man to the floor.

Kick knacks, candies, and various other impulse buy items go flying as Kurt messily pins the disoriented thief to the floor in front of a large metal stand full of cookies.

Blaine comes from the other side, seemingly out of nowhere and frozen momentarily in shock. Through magic, some sort of telepathic bond, or sheer luck, he manages to read Kurt’s mind and as soon as Kurt scrambles off the man, heaves the metal stand on top of the assailant.

They share a wide-eyed look of panic, an unspoken agreement, before bolting out.

Blaine hops over the groaning robber to the previous aisle, to pick up his skateboard. Meanwhile, Kurt’s eyes nearly bulge out of his head as he locates the rifle, still alarmingly close to the robber’s hand.

It won’t even register until about an hour later that holy fucking shit he was holding a loaded gun, but for now he grabs it and runs towards the door, shoving it into the clerk’s hands before lining up with Blaine, skateboard and backpack in hand.

The clerk looks at them with equal parts shock and gratitude, before turning the rifle on the robber to ensure he doesn’t try to escape.

As the two boys race out the door, Kurt tosses out a “Thanks for the Doritos!” to the clerk.

They don’t stop running for a solid minute, but when they do Kurt’s hamstrings are burning and his lungs are on fire, throat sore from breathing in the cold air too quickly.

Hands on his knees and still panting, he looks at Blaine. “Oh, my god.”

Blaine looks up at him from a similar position, breaking out into a wide, beaming grin that morphs into a fit of laughter. “We just did that.”

“That was reckless,” Kurt says, astonished for a moment before joining Blaine in his laughter.

Laughter slowly dying down into chuckles, Blaine stands up straight and cups Kurt’s cheeks in his palms.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, hints of laughter still lighting up his voice.

Before Kurt can throw his eyes back into his skull—because Blaine always says he loves Kurt, as a friend, of course—Blaine’s lips are on his, warm and solid against the cool autumn air and taking what little breath Kurt has away.

He’s a little more than speechless when they finally break apart. Blaine isn’t.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”

“I… w-wait, so… this whole time… you weren’t fake flirting with me?”

“I mean, I might’ve been a little too playful with it, but I was hoping eventually you’d take the hint.”

“I… don’t do well with hints.”

“Alright, no more hints. In that case, can I just kiss you again?”

Kurt barely restrains a hiccuped little laugh. “You, Blaine Anderson, can kiss me anytime you’d like.”

And from that day on, he does.

[jayeray-hq]

How He Shows You Affection: Ushijima Wakatoshi

This is a another repost to get this one to show up in the tags! Thank you to everyone who found it through the masterlist! You all are amazing! Notes: 72

Post Time Skip/Manga Ending Spoilers!

Warnings: None all fluff!

How He Shows You Affection Masterlist - Character Masterlist

He Does Little Things to Make Life Easier for You

            You woke up feeling a bit groggy, unsure just how or when exactly you’d fallen asleep. However, once you’d gotten your bearings a bit you quietly cursed yourself for allowing to happen, glancing at your phone and wincing as you registered what time it was. You’d had a lot to get done today and now more than half the day was gone. You’d only meant to sit down for a second and rest your eyes as you waited for the dishwasher to finish, but you must’ve accidentally dozed off.

In hindsight it probably wasn’t that surprising you’d fallen asleep. It had been a really long week at work, you’d been putting in extra hours, and had come home almost every night exhausted. It meant you’d been putting off your chores, all of which you’d meant to do today, on your only day off. The laundry in particular had been incredibly important as your clean clothes situation had become rather dire, but you’d fallen asleep before you could get to it.

            Even worse you’d wanted to get it done early because your boyfriend was going to be home later, and you desperately wanted to be able to spend your evening relaxing with him. Unfortunately, it looked like that wasn’t going to be happening now.

            Heaving a sigh, you stood, figuring there was no use crying over spilled milk, and that you might as well get to work. Especially if you wanted to have that nice dinner done you’d planned for when Ushijima got home. Only to pause in surprise as something fell away from your shoulders.

            You stooped and picked the familiar fabric off the ground, and immediately recognized it as your boyfriend’s Adlers jacket, the same one he’d worn out of the house that morning which meant…

            “Wakatoshi?” you asked curiously, as you cradled the jacket to your chest.

            “I’m here,” the low deep rumble of your boyfriend’s voice was both familiar and incredibly soothing, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke over your face at the sight of him, clearly recently showered, dressed in sweats and a t-shirt.

            “You’re home early,” you told him crossing the room eagerly to wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his strong, warm chest.

            “Coach let us go early,” he explained accepting your embrace with ease and folding you into his arms.

            “Did you have a good practice?” you asked, slowly pulling away from him after taking a few minutes to just soak up his warmth and presence.

            “It was adequate,” he told you, which you assumed meant yes, his eyes fond as his large hands lingered gently on your hips, not letting you pull away entirely just yet.

            “I was just going to start dinner for us,” you informed him with a smile, “Just let me finish up a few things and I’ll get right to it.”

            “Is there anything I can do?” he asked gently.

            “No, no I’ve got this,” you assured him firmly. After all the two of you usually split chores fairly evenly, and he’d already done his, it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to do yours as well.

            However, when you went to check your hamper, all your clothes were gone, and a quick peek showed that there were loads of laundry in both the washer and the dryer, both running. The bathroom was also cleaner than you remembered it being that morning, and the dishwasher had been emptied, the dishes put away.

            Your heart melted as you realized your boyfriend had apparently taken it upon himself to do it for you, and when you returned to the kitchen and found him quietly pulling out some of the things you’d need to make dinner you couldn’t help yourself diving back into his arms.

            “Is everything all right?” he asked, clearly a little concerned.

            “It’s perfect,” you assured him affectionately, feeling like a weight had lifted you’re your shoulders, “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome,” he told you pressing his cheek to your hair and cradling you close, making you sigh contentedly. You really did have the best boyfriend.

 He Makes Time For You

            Despite your feelings you’d managed to keep your perfect customer service smile pasted to your face throughout the party, nursing a glass of wine you hadn’t even bothered to touch, but held on to, to keep anyone from trying to get you another drink. It had been a rather horrid night, and you definitely didn’t want to be here, especially since, for the first time in a long time you’d had to come alone.

            Normally at these mandatory office parties you at least had your boyfriend with you. Ushijima, with his strong, calm presence and a stoicism and intimidating mien that managed to keep all but the most determined or familiar away from you, was a blessing at times like this. Unfortunately, he’d had a game, which while fairly close by was still over an hour away, and he wouldn’t be back until later that night.

            You honestly missed him dreadfully. Just his reassuring presence always helped to take the edge off your anxiety at times like these. Still he had his job, one that he truly loved with all his being and you’d never want to take him away from it, especially not for something as silly as an office party.

            Still you couldn’t help your grimace as one of your male coworkers, who’d been giving you the eye all night, and who regularly stood just a little too close, and lingered by your desk just a little too long slowly approached you. You braced yourself, fully ready to face the unpleasant conversation and hopefully send him on his way politely.

            However less than a few feet away from you his eyes suddenly darted to something behind you, and he quickly made a beeline around, clearly pretending he’d never been heading in your direction in the first place. You frowned in confusion, but were quickly jolted out of it, by the feeling of a large, warm hand on the small of your back.

            You turned, a frown on your face, ready to tell off whichever jerk dared put his hands on you, that you had a boyfriend and to leave you alone, only to find your boyfriend there looking down at you with a soft look on his face.

            “Wakatoshi?” you asked a little disbelieving, blinking several times to ensure he wasn’t an illusion of some kind, dreamt up by your wishes for his presence, but no he was still there, his hand warm and grounding, “What are you doing here?”

            “I always come to your office parties,” he told you a slightly puzzled frown on his lips.

            “I know,” you assured him an amused smile tugging your lips, “But didn’t you have a game?”

            “It’s finished,” he affirmed, then added unnecessarily, “We won.”

            “I know,” you told him with an amused smile, “I watched what I could of the game before coming. You managed to finish before I had to leave. I sent you a text.”

            “I saw,” he assured you a fond smile tugging slightly at the corners of his mouth, his eyes soft, “Thank you.”

            “You’re welcome,” you told him a bit bemused, “But that still doesn’t explain how you’re here. The game was over an hour away.”

            “I left right after,” he explained casually.

            “Wakatoshi you didn’t have to,” you exclaimed startled, especially since you knew leaving right after meant he’d skipped the victory celebrations with his team and gotten a cab back instead of taking the team bus.

            “I wanted to,” he stated firmly, in a way that left no room for arguments, “I never miss your office parties.”

            The sentiment behind the words honestly made your heart melt. Ushijima wasn’t the best with expressing his feelings verbally, but at times like this, when he even cut his volleyball activities short you could almost palpably feel how much he loved you, to put you over his favorite activity, even if it was only a little bit, it honestly meant the world to you.

            “Thank you for being here,” you told him, figuring there really was no other response, at least none that would be appropriate in this setting, though you made a note to show him how much you appreciated it when you got home.

            “Of course,” he answered firmly, as if there had never been any doubt, as if there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be then right by your side.

 He Buys Little Things That Remind Him of You

            “Oh Ushiwaka whatcha lookin’ at?” Tendou asked curiously peering over his friend’s shoulder so he could see the display that the large former Ace of Shiratorizawa was studying so intently. His lips quirked in amusement as he saw what had captured the stoic man’s attention, a rather adorable display of plush toys

            “Are you expecting?” he asked eagerly.

            “I’m not expecting anything,” Ushijima told him a slight frown on his face, clearly perplexed by the question.

            “No, no, no I mean is your girlfriend expecting?” he tried again shifting eagerly from foot to foot.

            “No, she never expects anything,” his friend and former captain told him completely honestly, his face softening at the mere mention of his beloved who was back home in Japan while he and his team were in France for a game, “But these are very cute.”

            “They are,” Tendou agreed nodding sagely, he never would’ve expected the man to be so sentimental and to think such things about toys like that, but well, you learned something new everyday.

            “She is also very cute,” Ushiwaka murmured more to himself than to Tendou, before nodding firmly and making his way into the store, clearly intent on buying one for his girlfriend, leaving a dumbstruck Tendou behind wondering if he should stop him or not but in the end decided to let the man make his own mistakes.

            Several days later, back in Japan you opened another package from your boyfriend and stared at its contents, more than a little dumbfounded. These little gifts from Ushijima had been arriving nearly every day since he left, nothing too big or expensive, mostly small interesting things that he claimed in his daily chats ‘reminded him of you.’

            However staring at this latest gift you had to wonder if maybe he was trying to send you a message of some sort. After all was there any other reason to have sent you what was admittedly, a rather adorable plush baby toy, with a tag in the ear whose French you’d painstakingly translated into “congratulations it’s a boy!”

            It left you rather dumbfounded, however, luckily you didn’t need to ask more than why he’d bought it for you for him to explain, and you never had to tell him that he’d given you a baby toy of all things. However, the small gift did find its way into your daughter’s crib several years down the line, so it certainly never went to waste.

[knightsimp]

Recovery (2/2)

Pairing: Percival Graves x Reader

Summery: You were right; that was not Percival Graves. So, what are you going to do about it?

Genre: Angst + fluff (I think it’s a sweet ending :D)

Word Count: 2600+

Date Posted: February 14, 2021 (Happy Valentine’s Day!)

Note: None

Part One: Link

“How do you think she is doing, Teenie?” Queenie found herself asking as she and Tina made their way to (Y/N)’s apartment. 

“I’m not sure, but I regret not staying with her for a couple of days.” The girls had no idea what (Y/N) was up to; she had not turned up for work, understandably, for the last five days. Now that it was Friday, they were able to check up on her. 

The sisters looked at each other before Tina knocked on (Y/N)’s door. They chose not to apparate to avoid scaring her. 

“It’s open!” (Y/N)’s muffled voice came through the door. When they entered the apartment, they did not expect such a mess.

The kitchen was a mess, first of all. Pots and pans everywhere, and unwashed dishes piled the sink. 

“In here!” (Y/N) called from the room at the end of the corridor: the bedroom. The bedroom was not any better than the kitchen. From what can be seen by just looking through the bedroom door, (Y/N)’s bed was not made and a couple garments were dumped onto it. Miscellaneous things, such as her hairbrush and a few pieces of clothing, were piling onto her bedside table.

Tina and Queenie were not prepared to see a spew of papers near the wall which was facing the bed. Tina had not known about (Y/N)’s investigation at all, but Queenie knew and did not realize it would get this far and this bad. The small patch of papers that were pinned on the wall, which had been connected together with red string, had taken over the square-ish area and had started to crawl onto the ceiling. 

“Oh my god.” Tina mumbled, looking up at one of the moving snippets from The Daily Prophet. 

“Tina! Queenie!” (Y/N) was at the wall where this collection started. “How are you?” It looked as if (Y/N) just rolled out of bed and got to work. And that was exactly what has been happening the last several days.

“We’re doing alright, (Y/N).” Queenie hesitated for a moment. “How are you?” (Y/N) shrugged her shoulders.

“Tired mostly. I haven’t slept in a couple days, but look! I have made so much progress!” Queenie looked around and found two empty mugs which were, no doubt, once filled with coffee. Tina snapped out of her memorization of the ceiling. 

“Progress?” Tina asked, raising an eyebrow. She slowly put the pieces together. “(Y/N),” pause, “are you trying to figure out where Mr. Graves is?” (Y/N) smile dropped for a moment while she averted her gaze downward. Her enthusiastic smile became a sad one as she fiddled with the delicate gold charm that Percival had gifted to her for a birthday. 

“Well, of course.” (Y/N) looked back at them, speaking softly. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“First, you need to go take a shower.” Tina went behind (Y/N) and pushed her shoulders out of the bedroom to the nearby bathroom. “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but you really do stink. We can smell you from across the room and it is a long room.” 

“Tina’s right!” Queenie agreed, looking at them. “You need to take care of yourself, (Y/N). You are not going to make much progress when you are unconscious from a lack of sleep and proper food.” Before (Y/N) could say anything, Queenie added, “And yes, regardless of what you think, you do need a little freshening up.” With a little more arguing, (Y/N) agreed to at least take a shower. Queenie handed (Y/N) some clothes to change into before she entered her bathroom.

Tina continued to awe at (Y/N)’s investigating. She knew (Y/N) was a brilliant detective, but this was beyond what she thought. She followed it down from the ceiling to the original wall. In the middle of the wall was where everything was connecting to; a photo of (Y/N) and Percival at the Blind Pig. After being constantly reprimanded by Percival, who was really Grindelwald, when he was around, it surprised her that she did not notice the differences between him and the real Percival sooner. Percival was very intimidating and dominating, yes, but he still cared about his subordinates. Grindelwald could not care less unless it was meddling his involvement in MACUSA.

As Tina looked closer into the snippets of newspaper, she noticed how (Y/N) had been investigating all over the city. No doubt she was going to all of these locations. Once a location was visited, it seemed like (Y/N) would pin or make notes on the snippet. 

“No way.”

“Possible, but not probable”

These were only the very general notes being made. It looked like (Y/N) was also communicating with Theseus Scamander in London to make some inquiries in Europe, but nothing came of that.

Tina did not realize how long she was gawking at (Y/N)’s work until she heard the shower stop.

(Y/N) looked as if she was in deep thought when she exited the bathroom. She definitely looked, and smelled, fresher than before.

“(Y/N)?” Tina tried to call out to her. “Are you okay?”

“(Y/N), are you sure?” Queenie came around the corner, overhearing (Y/N) thoughts. “Is that a likely place?”

“What is a likely place?” (Y/N) looked up at Tina. 

“You know how while you take shower or a bath, it is easy to let your mind wander?” Tina nodded. “I think...” She trailed off, again seemingly trying to make sense of her thoughts.

“You think Mr. Graves is at MACUSA!” Queenie gasped. 

“What?” Tina exclaimed. “Explain!”

“There is nowhere else he can be, Tina!” (Y/N) was right, but also sounded like she was grasping at straws. “I have scavenged the city for signs. I even had someone in London make secret inquiries for me. And it is absolutely something Grindelwald would do. If anyone was going to look for the real Percival, they were not going to search MACUSA, a place swarming with talented aurors. And it makes it easier to get ingredients for the Polyjuice potion. No one is going to question Percival Graves if they spot him walking through the building.”

“That is actually genius.” Tina mumbled before clearing her throat. “But where would he be? Like you said, MACUSA always has aurors in the building.”

“MACUSA is big and has been running for decades! There has to be some abandoned areas that are no longer required for work.”

“We can always check.” Queenie suggested. “All three of us work in that building.”

“Though, depending on how large the search area is, we may need help from Picquery.” (Y/N) bit the inside of her cheek. Might as well.

The sun was starting to set when the three women arrived at MACUSA.

“You two stay out here.” (Y/N) told the sisters. “I can’t have you two getting in trouble, especially you, Tina; you just got your job back as an auror.”

(Y/N) stormed into President Picquery’s office. She did not mean to, but her adrenaline took over. The President was clearly in the middle of some sort of meeting. She looked peeved, to say the least.

“Miss (L/N),” she started sternly. “I am glad to see you are feeling better, that being said-”

“Madame President-”

“-I am in the middle of something-”

“I may have figured out where Percival Graves is, ma’am.” The room went silent. “The real Percival Graves.” Picquery’s expression turned from annoyed to serious. 

“Gentlemen, we can reschedule, but I must talk with Miss (L/N) this instant.” The two men in suits left and closed the door behind them, leaving (Y/N) to Seraphina’s mercy. “Miss (L/N).” She let a bit of silence go by. “I’m listening.”

“I believe Percival may be in this building.” Seraphina leaned back in her chair and sighed.

“And what is your proof?”

“The lack of any. Madame President, when I tell you that I have scoured the whole city looking for him, I mean it; that is not an exaggeration. I have been making inquiries in Europe and no one has found anything.” Seraphina continued to stare at her. “Please, at least humor me.”

“And where would he be, (Y/N), if he is in fact here?”

“That is the big question, ma’am; that is why I am here in your office.” She purposefully kept Tina and Queenie out of it to avoid any repercussions they may face if she is wrong. “In my investigation into this theory, I wondered if there are any abandoned areas here in MACUSA. A building and organization this old cannot still be using all of it’s floors.” Then, the realization seemed to hit Seraphina.  

“I can’t believe I am saying this, but you may be onto something, (L/N).” She stood up from her chair and went to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “Some of the lowest floors have not been used in a long time. At least five or six floors. No one goes down there anymore; there is no need.” She led (Y/N) to the door. “I am sending five people to each floor immediately. You and the Goldstein's gather two more aurors and start the search.” (Y/N) wanted to ask how she knew the Goldstein sisters were involved, but quickly shut her mouth. “If you’re wrong, this is a waste of a lot of manpower. People are finishing up their shifts and will be very upset to be searching a good portion of our building when they could be going home.”

“Then, let's hope that I’m not wrong.” Seraphina nodded before heading off to the main floor. Tina and Queenie came closer, seeing as the coast was clear. 

“Miss Goldstein-”

“Find two other aurors and we’ll meet you at the elevator.” Queenie glanced at both the president and (Y/N) before leaving Tina with (Y/N). 

“(Y/N)?” Tina put a hand on her shoulder to stop her for a moment. (Y/N) explained the plan as they made their way to the elevator. 

“We don’t know what or who is down here.” Tina warned, talking to everyone, but keeping her eyes on (Y/N). “Stay alert.” The five of them split up, wands in hand, but stayed close enough to see each other in case of an ambush.

The bottom floor of the building, way under sea level, had definitely been abandoned. The remaining desks down there were dusty and untouched. Whatever else they had down there was the same.

After about half-an-hour, (Y/N) was losing hope; she was hanging on to the thought of finding Percival and it was the only thing keeping her going, but her grip was slipping.

In the relatively silent bottom floor of MACUSA, they could hear the echoing of someone yelling. They can barely make it out, but the words which were projected were very clear: “we found him!”

(Y/N) heart dropped to her stomach. She almost did not believe what she heard. Tina and Queenie caught up to (Y/N) as she ran to the cage elevator, though the elevator was way above where she was, giving her ample space to look up.

“Give me a floor!” (Y/N)’s voice cracked as she yelled up the shaft, trying to get through all of the noise. She got responses for many of the aurors, but she got a general answer: three from the bottom. Percival was supposedly only two floors above where she was. Her breathing was getting a little heavy. 

She looked at the floor before apparating to it. Her team followed. 

“(L/N)!” One of the aurors on the floor called her over. “He’s over here!” (Y/N) almost tripped with how quickly she ran, following the auror. The heels of her shoes made a loud clack every time her feet pummeled onto the floor. 

Her heart was pounding, but it really started hitting hard against her ribs when she saw her first glimpses of him. Her running had come to a halt and she slid on her knees in front of him.

The poor man had been through so much. Whatever skin was showing outside of his torn dress pants and ruffled dress shirt was bruised and his face was home to a black eye. His hair and facial hair had grown way past what he would have tolerated if he was in control of it. He stank of blood, sweat, and dirt.

He was not in a cage or cell; he was, instead, shackled to a support beam by his wrists.

“Percy!” (Y/N) gasped out, holding his almost unconscious face in her shaking hands. It looked like he may have been sleeping to pass the time. “Get medical down here!” A couple of aurors nodded and left to get personal from the medical wing. “Percival, please open your eyes.” 

Slowly, with whatever energy he had, he opened his eyes. He could believe (Y/N) was sitting in front of him, holding his face so gently. The light coming in from behind her made her look oh-so angelic. 

“(Y/N)?” Her name barely passed his lips. 

“Percy! Yes, yes! It’s me!” She could not care less that she was crying; hearing his voice again, the real him, brought her to tears. She let a sob escape. “Oh Merlin, I found you! I finally found you!” In her happiness, she planted tender kisses all over his face. She did not notice when Percival mumbled something to her. 

“Make way!” The healers had arrived with a gurney, ready to take Percival up to the medical wing. (Y/N) was reluctant to let go of him, but did so. She watched as he was taken away from her. 

Queenie, from (Y/N)’s side, gave her a reassuring hug, which the crying auror returned and finally let out her whimpers. 

He was found.

This was the real Percival.

He was alive.

And he was going to be okay.

It took about a full day for Percival to become coherent. He was so void of nutrients and fluids; the man was on the brink of dying. 

What had happened was clear: once Grindelwald was found out, Percival was no longer needed and he was left down there to die. It was horrifying to think what would have happened if (Y/N) had not had that miscellaneous thought in the shower.

When he awoke, (Y/N) was right there, gently holding onto his bruised hand so as to not hurt him further.

“You’re safe now, Percival,” was the first thing she said to him. “Everything will be alright.” Once again, the light coming from behind her made her look ethereal, as if she was an angel. 

His angel.

“I said, I love you.” Percival got out. (Y/N) blinked, thinking she misheard him.

“Percy?”

“I love you, (Y/N) (L/N). I’m not going to let another day pass where I regret telling you that.” (Y/N) looked away, bashful. 

“You need to rest.”

“I mean it-”

She pressed a sweet kiss on the corner of his lips, ignoring the irritation from his beard, before sitting back in her seat. “I know you do. You are not a very flowery man.” He looked at her, a little confused. She gave him a soft chuckle, knowing what he was thinking. “I’m not going anywhere, Percival. I made that mistake once, and look at what happened. I am staying right here.”

[txtdreamss]

mirrorball // [g.w.]

sequel to tolerate it

warnings: angst, fem!reader

summary: It’s been 2 weeks since George told you he has a date to the yule ball. As of now, it’s the night before and you are reflecting on your feelings for him and wondering if you can continue as his best friend.

word count: 1.5k

A/N: So, here it is! I am hoping to get this posted as soon as possible for those of you who wanted to see a part 2 to tolerate it. I had a really difficult time deciding on how I wanted to end this, and I really hope it pleases you guys (not sure I’m happy with the ending, but that is to be expected). Sorry in advance for any errors, as this is a one-woman show and I sometimes miss my own mistakes. :) Special thanks to @ajusquishy for being the first to ask about this addition to tolerate it!

*****

I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

The past 2 weeks had been the most difficult time of your life. George had been following Alicia around like a lost puppy, and even Fred was getting sick of it. Oddly enough, it seemed like George couldn’t get through one interaction with you without mentioning the girl’s name.

“Oh Y/N, we decided to match my tie to her dress!”

“Did you know she said I am the cutest quidditch player she has ever met?”

“I’m thinking about asking mum to knit her a sweater this Christmas!”

At first you could handle it. As his best friend of nearly 6 years, it was your job to handle it. Why didn’t that make any of this easier?

There wasn’t a change in George that you had neglected to notice. Hell, your heart dropped when he showed up with a new bruise after quidditch practice. You were the one who had told him to grow his hair out (and damn, was that a good piece of advice). George had even been with you when he chose his first pair of dress robes for merlin’s sake!

Molly Weasley saw you as her stand-in while the boys and Ginny were at Hogwarts. Of course, she didn’t know that George and Fred had grown in their pranking abilities thanks to your sugar-sweet exterior, but that didn’t change the role you played in the Weasley children’s life. You were the responsible friend who also just happened to lead a double life when it came to the twins.  It was thanks to you that they had received only 3 detentions this quarter, and it was their fault that you now had an affinity for “accidentally” leaving dung bombs in the outer pockets of Cormac McLaggen’s bag.

“Hey, Y/N... I haven’t seen you around much. You aren’t avoiding me, are ya?” George’s baritone voice broke you out of your thoughts. He settled his arms on the top of your head, and sighed deeply, letting his head drop. “Fred and I need your help figuring out what the best escape route from the dungeons is.”

“Go ask Lee, he can do some math too.” Yes, you were being harsh, but George’s presence was enough to shatter any semblance of self control you still had left.  “Now, if you excuse me, I have a study date with some ancient runes and Hermione.”

As you stalked out of the common room, George couldn’t bear to bring up how he hadn’t been able to come up with any solid pranks in exactly 14 days.

*****

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Tonight was the night; your hair was curled to perfection, and the gown your mother had sent you was the color of holly. The heels you had strapped on were a matte black dusted with the occasional piece of red glitter. Despite the fact that George was not your date, you couldn’t help my let your thoughts drift to him as you got ready. Would he think you looked pretty? Would he think you looked as good as her?

Lee tapped you on the shoulder, and you steadied yourself before letting him gently grab your hand. “Don’t let that prat get you down. You look like a goddess, Y/N. Now, let’s go show Georgie what he is missing.” 

Lee was a great friend for doing this for you; he knew about your feelings (Fred apparently can’t keep his mouth shut), and immediately became set on helping you get back on your feet. He had become your greatest cheerleader as of late, and claimed that George doesn’t know it, but he definitely has feelings for you.

As you both walked into the great hall, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. There were snowflakes and all types of seasonal decor strung up across the room, and it was almost like the room had transformed into a winter dreamscape. Fred and George had beat you there, already sipping punch with Angelina and Alicia.

“You boys clean up nice.” The twins and Lee let out a chorus of ‘hey’s, clearly displeased with your mockery of their appearances.

“Oi, I was betting 5 galleons that Fred would show up in his trainers...” George’s voice was surprisingly meek, almost as if he was looking for your approval with his jabs towards his brother.

The boys immediately began discussing their plan to spike the punch bowl with firewhiskey, and Angelina and Alicia launched into a conversation about where they had purchased their gowns. You felt more than out of place at this point, and decided to relocate after notifying Lee that you’d be fine on your own for a bit. Almost immediately after, Angelina went to distract McGonagall while Fred and Lee snuck under the table of refreshments.

You went to talk with Hermione and the younger trio, and were drawn into a lesson in muggle dancing.

“No, Ron, that is not how you hit the woah.” (I’m sorry I felt so inclined to include this cuz the image makes me chuckle lol).

“Well, ‘Mione, why don’t you and Y/N show us how this is done then?” Harry and Ron crossed their arms, and Hermione slipped her arm around your shoulders.

“C’mon, Y/N. You look like you could use something fun.” She dragged you onto the dance floor, and you both began dramatically spinning each other to the sound of your wheezing laughter.

If only you had noticed a certain red-headed prankster gazing at you like you had hung the stars in the sky...

*****

You are not like the regulars The masquerade revelers Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

Fred and Angelina had taken to the floor as soon as the waltzing began. After watching them twirl to the crescendos of the music, you finally decided enough was enough. All it too was a look at Lee, and he understood what you needed to do. You slipped out of the doors to the great hall, and found yourself wandering amongst the carriages powdered with snow, occasionally stopping to draw shapes into the piles of flakes.

Following five-ish minutes of mucking about, you finally decided to sit on the steps that bridged the courtyard and the hallways. Snowflakes continued floating, but you quickly realized the droplets of water on your face were from small tears and not the weather. Sniffles escaped your nose, and you crossed your arms in a poor attempt to keep warm despite your lack of sleeves.

Out of nowhere, you felt heavy cloth drop onto your bare shoulders.

“Be careful, love. Ya look like you’re halfway to becoming an ice lolly.” George shuffled his long, lanky body onto the steps. You looked at him through your lashes, and he seemed almost squeamish.

“Don’t you have Alicia waiting for you inside? I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled to see you out here.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N, I think we have been pretty dense.” Confusion evident on your features, George let his larger hand cover yours. “I didn’t want to ask Alicia. I wanted to ask you.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been talking my ear off about how much you like her for weeks now...”

“I was trying to make you jealous.” Silence overtook the interaction.

“So you’re saying that we both have been blind to our feelings?” 

George let out a small chuckle, and pulled his hand away. To be quite honest, you felt like maybe you had been ignoring the signs: the subtle stares, the extended physical contact, the willingness to be there whenever and wherever you asked him to.

“I think we may want to start over and forget the last few weeks.”

“I think I would quite like that.” You stood up, and brushed the snow off your skirt before extending your hand towards George. “Well, George, the yule ball is in... now... would you like to be my date?”

“I would enjoy that a bunch, Y/N.” He took your hand, and pulled you into his chest. “May have a dance to start off the evening?”

“...There isn’t any music.” You chuckled, but George simply grinned at you before beginning to hum.

“Problem solved. So, may I have this dance?”

“You may.” You dropped your head into the nook of his shoulder, and George began to sway and spin you, leaving 2 pairs of footprints in the snow beneath your feet.

From just beyond your view, Fred, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia let out somewhat of a “oomph” and high-fived each other before turning to go back inside.

Shining just for you.

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | three

view pinned post for masterlist / links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: smut

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: graphic violence, blood drinking, overstimulation, orgasm denial, crying kink, corruption kink, praise kink? idk, alcohol drinking, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: I’m a little too whipped for this san tbh,,, Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

“Go talk to him!” 

“Yuri, he’s way out of my—”

“C’mon, you look hot! You haven’t been out with us in like, over a month. Have some fun for once.”

“The worst he could do is reject you,” Chaeyeon piped in at your side. 

Easy for them to say. Your friends were practically models, of course they would think getting a guy's number was easy. 

But either way, you couldn’t take your eyes off him all night. Tall, perfectly proportioned, entirely graceful. His jet-black undercut hair was styled up neatly in such a way that one side fell gracefully over his eyes. Admittedly, he was no San, but he was gorgeous.  There was no way you’d be able to get his number, but your friends were right about one thing. You could really use some fun. 

You knocked back the rest of your drink, and it stung the back of your throat just enough to give you the confidence you needed to approach him. 

Your friends watched, mouths agape as you somehow managed to score his number—he typed it into your phone with graceful fingers, caching in into your contacts under the name Seonghwa. A fittingly pretty name for such a gorgeous man. When you walked back to the table, your friends' eyes were wide in both jealousy and shock, and you felt incredibly powerful for just a moment.

“The way you’re looking at me, it seems like you didn’t think I’d actually get it,” you joked, leaning against the table to stir the ice in your empty glass mindlessly. 

“Well, uh... we kind of didn’t. Not that you’re not pretty or anything, but that guy is out of all our leagues. Like pretty much everyone in this bar’s league, actually.”

“No guarantee he’ll actually call me. It could be a fake number,” you shrugged. 

You kind of couldn’t believe you were able to get his number either, but it did give you a much needed confidence boost. You didn’t need your demon boy anymore, you could actually get a human. A gorgeous one at that. Of course, this human boy probably wouldn’t clean your bathroom for you. Or look so goddamn hot doing it. 

You glanced around the bar confidently, making eye contact with Seonghwa and giving him a flirtatious wink. 

You weren’t usually big into going to bars, even with your friends. Rather, you preferred a chill night in watching movies or playing Cards Against Humanity. But your friends had been nagging you for nearly a month to go out with them, their constant invites finally coming to a head when you accepted out of the blue. You’d been so focused on your secret nightly rendezvous with the hot demon boy in your bedroom that you’d rejected them over and over, blaming a “mountain of school work” and “midterm stress”. While both of those things were true, you had basically discarded your social life to lust over a pretty demon boy. You knew now that he was a bad idea, and you needed to move on.

For the last week, you’d been agonizing over him. You hadn’t re-summoned him since you saw him last—the night he choked you until you passed out with his dick inside you. There were two big reasons for this. 

First, you were a bit embarrassed for passing out on him, although you knew that was nowhere near your fault. Your first time with a guy, and you pass out? Of course, his demonic hands were around your throat literally asphyxiating you, but you still felt slightly ashamed at the idea of him seeing you like that, and even taking the time to re-clothe you afterwards. You didn’t know if you could even look him in the eyes after that.

Secondly, and this was admittedly the biggest reason: you knew that you were no longer desirable to him. Your appeal to him was undoubtedly your virgin tears, blood, aura, whatever. You were a virgin, your very presence was like crack to him. But you’d fucked him. Well, started anyway, but it definitely counted. You weren’t a virgin anymore, not by his instinctual demon standards at least—not in the way he needed you to be. And what were you without your virginity other than some insignificant human soul in an endless sea of human souls? He didn’t need you anymore. 

But there was also the issue of the fact that he wasn’t human, and never would be. If all you did was contract him into sex, wouldn’t that just make him your demon prostitute who cleans your house sometimes? You didn’t have a contract last time, but it wouldn’t matter now anyway. There was no way he’d risk going contract-less again, especially if you weren’t a virgin anymore. 

So you decided to move on. He was bad for you in every way, a bad habit you needed to break. An addiction you needed to give up on. 

But it was certainly easier said than done. 

He haunted you, in your dreams, and even while you were awake. His post-it on your wall, taunting you, although you didn’t have the heart to rip it off. It wouldn’t matter if you did, anyway, you’d memorized his summoning phrase by heart. It was practically burned into you like a brand—a constant reminder of his hold on you. Even the inhuman taste of his lips lingered on yours for far longer than they should have.

You shook your thoughts of San from your head the best you could, refocusing on just having a good time tonight. You almost forgot the outside world existed with how much you’d been isolated with San in your apartment. It felt nice. 

You finished your night with a few more drinks, waving bye to your friends as they hopped in their ride-share. The bar wasn’t far from your apartment, and you lived in a relatively safe neighborhood, so you weren’t exactly worried about walking home by yourself at night. 

You had been drinking, but you didn’t necessarily feel drunk, perhaps just a little wobbly as you made your way through the neighborhood. A sign reading “road construction” blocked your path, and you noticed the sidewalk was completely cut off for the next few blocks. Walking all the way around would have taken forever, so you chose to cut through an alleyway to access the back entrance of your building. It was one you were familiar with—you’d taken it several times when you wanted to cut down your trip, but never at night. You walked through, keeping close to the wall lining the side because it offered the most visibility. It was quite dim, only the dull flickering of a rusty street light overhead giving any sense of light. 

Then you saw it. 

To your left, you caught a glimpse of crimson red shining almost like neon in the dim, flickering light of the alley, and then a glimpse of a fang sparkling bright white. You stumbled back, hitting the brick wall behind you. 

“Where ya goin’?” he taunted, taking another step forward. You couldn’t make out the features, but they were distinctly demonic. Your fight or flight instinct kicked in, except you somehow skipped right past those and straight to “freeze”. You were entirely frozen in place, your limbs scrambling to decide the best path of action. “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be out here all alone.”

You darted to the right just as he closed in, immediately tripping over your own feet into the closest object, a dumpster. You turned on your heels to see his fangs bared fully, pearly and bright in the dark alley. 

You opened your mouth to scream, but the sound was suddenly dampened. A hand clamped over your mouth with a suffocating force. Before you could realize what was happening, you were shoved to your knees, skin scraping against the cold pavement. 

“Don’t move,” a voice hissed in your ear. San. You’d know that deep voice anywhere. You tried to choke out a few useless words, but your voice was helplessly muffled beneath the hand viced against your mouth. “Be quiet. I’m saving your life.”  

He shoved you by the shoulders behind a stack of large wooden crates next to the dumpster. You kept your head down, but you could make out their silhouettes in the dim light, although San’s figure blocked your eye line from getting a good view of the aggressor. 

"Low life," San growled, his words spitting out venomously. "What, you have nothing better to do than hunt humans? Pathetic." 

You heard the harsh, gritty tone of the figure speak, still veiled in the shadows. "San?" The figure laughed jovially. Something about it was incredibly unsettling. "What are you, some sort of human patrol? Or do you just want her for yourself?"  

"She's mine," he hissed. You couldn't see his face, but you could picture it twisting in anger from how maliciously he spat out his words. 

"Yours, huh? I know you like ‘em pure, but not enough to take another demon's prey."  

Was he implying you were still a virgin? But that wasn't—

"Leave," San snarled. "Before you make me do something we'll both regret." 

The figure took a step forward, unveiling himself in the light, though you could still barely make it out from behind the crates and with San’s figure blocking your view. 

“Fuck off. I was here first,” the demon spat.  

“I said… she’s mine.”

San lunged forward, but the demon dodged easily, throwing his fist forward to land a blow on San’s cheek. San shook his head furiously before moving to throw his own punch. 

The demon ducked to evade, but San anticipated it. His figure whipped around to the back of the demon, his body moving like a flash, almost as if he had phased out of reality. He swung his leg up with a fierce kick, sending the aggressor flying back into the alley wall, cracking the bricks in a cartoonish circle around him. You had no idea he could fight like that.

The demon faltered to his feet, shaking his limbs out casually like it was nothing. These demons were no joke—you wouldn’t have stood a chance running from him if San hadn’t been there. You’d be dead. 

The demon's mouth curled up into a snarl, baring his fangs ferociously as he lunged in San’s direction. San evaded easily, flashing around to his opponent’s side. 

“You’re clearly not very bright,” San taunted, delivering another kick to his core. The demon fell back again, lurching forward over his stomach with a pained gasp. He staggered against the wall, lifting his gaze to San closing in. 

San had him entirely cornered. His hand viced around the other demon’s throat, holding him in the air with a surprising display of strength. The demon’s feet scrambled hopelessly to find the concrete, dangling inches above the ground. Is that the kind of strength he was capable of? Holding up an entire body in the air as effortlessly as he would toasting a champagne glass? 

San shot a glance over his shoulder, black eyes glistening villainously under the dim lights. "Close your eyes, lamb. You're not gonna want to see this one. Trust me."

Your eyes squeezed together just in time for you to hear a sickening crack of bones snapping. Then complete, deafening silence for a moment.

You cracked one eye open as you heard his footsteps approaching you slowly. Your vision adjusted to see him knelt in front of you, seemingly surveying you for injury. 

"What the fuck was that?" you choked out. “Why was he—”

"He’s a rogue demon," he explained, shooting a deathly glare at the decapitated corpse. The sight was grisly, but somehow, the fact that the body wasn’t entirely human gave you some degree of solace. "Patrolling for souls. You’re an easy target. They can smell your pretty scent from a mile away."

You took another glance at the fresh corpse, stomach churning at the gruesome sight. His head was ripped cleanly off. Did San just do that with his bare hands? 

San gripped on to your forearm, squeezing hard. You noticed his hand shaking, just slightly. "C'mon. We need to go. Where there's one rogue, there's bound to be more. You smell like a walking piece of meat right now to them. If there's more, they know you're here." He tugged you to your feet. “Lead me to your apartment, okay darling? It’s close, hmm? Until then, you need to stay quiet. You talking—well, let’s just say it makes you easier to detect.”

You walked hesitantly but briskly the rest of the way to your apartment, legs shaking beneath you with every step. San kept a protective arm wrapped tightly around the small of your waist the whole way, but you couldn’t help but feel shaky. 

The minute you got home, all the questions you wanted to ask him flooded your brain. He guided you by the shoulders to the bedroom first, shutting the door behind you as if you had something to hide, despite being alone in the apartment. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but you wouldn’t give him the chance.

“How did you find me?” you barked. “I haven’t summoned you in over a week. How did you know where I was?”

“I know,” he grumbled under his breath. Was he keeping track of the days like you were? You didn’t think he cared. “I’ve been, uh... I’ve been keeping an eye on you,” he responded, shifting his eyes to the side for a minute. Breaking eye contact wasn’t like him.

“You’ve been doing what? Like spying on me? I didn’t know demons could watch over humans like that. I thought you just came when you were called.”

“We can’t. We’re not like angels.”

“Angels? Ugh, never mind, not the point. So how did you—”

“I have some connections. It doesn’t really matter. The point is, I saved you back there. And you need to be more careful.”

You sighed. “What, so you care now?”

San nodded hesitantly. “I—I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I care a bit more than I should. About you.” His eyes drew up to yours, reeling you in like a magnetic pull. Except his gaze was less fierce than usual, just intense. Serious. 

“What are you trying to say?”

“I try to stay objective. About humans. It’s my job. Write contacts, steal souls. I’m not supposed to feel anything. And I’m certainly not supposed to alter fate to save one.”

Alter fate? Were you supposed to die tonight?

You paused. You were suddenly incredibly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, despite the implications of what he was saying. You were falling head first for him, but you couldn’t afford to have your heart broken. You were trying to move on. 

“Can you get me some water? My head is killing me,” you asked quickly, hoping you could change the subject when he came back.

He nodded, hoisting himself up from the edge of the bed, and came back with the glass, setting it on the night table gingerly. He was being uncomfortably gentle, and you weren’t exactly sure what to do with him. 

“I have a question,” you started hesitantly, using the lull in the conversation to move it elsewhere. “The demon. In the alley. He said I was pure. What did he mean? Because we—”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m not sure either. We certainly did do that, but I can smell it too, unmistakably. I’d know that scent anywhere. It’s driving me insane.”

“So I’m...”

“Still a virgin,” he finished. His tongue drew over his lip between the slight part of his teeth in thought. “I can only guess it’s because I’m not human. My body is, but only technically.” His eyes trained on you again, this time glimmering with a hint of desire. “Speaking of. Your smell is entirely distracting to me right now.”

He wasn’t the only one distracted. You hadn’t entirely forgotten what he looked like, of course, but you were still surprised every time you saw him. He looked hellishly attractive, glistening lightly with sweat, shirt clinging to his muscles tightly. You weren’t being subtle as you glanced at him up and down, practically drooling. You saw a familiar smirk twitch up on his lips, flashing and a brief display of fangs. “What’s that look for, lamb? Hmm? You look cute when you’re drooling over me.”

You shook your head, embarrassed. “Don’t you need to be going anyway?”

He leaned forward slightly, just enough to be able to reach you with his hand, brushing it along the cut of your jaw. “I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here tonight. Alone. If the rogues caught on to your scent, they’d be able to track you here.”

“But won’t you get in trouble without a contract?” 

“Who says we can’t make one now?” he asked, fixing his gaze directly with yours. He was right. You hadn’t really thought of that.  

“Alright, let’s say I asked you to guard me tonight. What do I give you in return?”

“Your body.” You paused, breath hitching in your throat as he dragged his fingernail along the skin of your neck again. “You’re free to decline but… I’m hoping you’d want to finish what we started as much as I do.” You glanced at your phone on the nightstand for a moment in thought, breaking eye contact, but he tipped your chin up to meet yours immediately. “What are you thinking about, darling, hm? That boy who gave you his number?”

“How did you—”

“I told you. I’ve been watching,” he explained with a charming smile. 

“Asshole. That’s creepy,” you grumbled through your teeth. It was creepy,  but another part of you couldn’t help but be flattered. 

“So, what do you say?” he asked eagerly, leaning in until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. 

You couldn’t deny, his body had been on your mind pretty much constantly since you’d seen him last. You craved the feeling of him inside of you again, the warm closeness of his skin pressed against yours, his hands exploring every inch of you. Most of all, you craved the hungry, insatiable way he looked at you, that made you feel desired in a way you’d never felt before.

“You’re not gonna choke me out again?” you teased, but you already knew your answer, pretty much either way. 

“No promises.” He winked charmingly, brushing his lips against yours. A tingle rocketed through your spine, the single fleeting taste of his lips the only incentive you needed for your next words.

“It’s a deal,” you confirmed, leaning into the feeling of his lips against yours. He pulled away with a teasing smirk. 

“Such a needy little human. Don’t get too eager, now. I like to have a little fun with my prey first.” He winked, flashing his fangs. You imagined them sinking into your skin, the sensation of his tongue dragging along your wound. You couldn’t believe how addicted you were to being a glorified blood donor for a sadistic house-demon. 

You whined a bit as he pulled away, breaking all contact with you. 

“San—” 

He clicked his tongue against his teeth mockingly. “Needy little thing. Don’t worry, we’ll have our fun tonight. On my terms, of course.”

He teased you mercilessly as you went about your night, brushing himself up against you in the kitchen, lingering his lips just over your skin as he spoke to you and pulling away right when you tried to make a move. The restraint he was exercising just to get a rise out of you was impressive, and you pretty much fell right in his trap. You were squirming at the mere idea of his touch, knees nearly buckling under you every time he brushed against you. You were going mad.

You were washing dishes in the kitchen after eating a quick midnight snack with him. Your drinking in the bar earlier had you hungry for whatever was around, and due to the quickly growing pain of arousal, you wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. 

You felt his hands around your waist first, pulling your back into him from behind, his lips littering feather-light kisses on the back of your neck. Your hair stood on end, goosebumps pilling up on your arms as he kissed so very lightly. He nipped lightly a few times at the surface of your skin, fangs grazing sharply against the nape of your neck, then moving down to your shoulders, pulling down the collar of your shirt to get better access. 

You felt him growing hard against you from behind, his rock hard bulge pressing into your ass. You wiggled against it, and he delivered a harsh bite to the skin of your shoulder blades, not daring to break skin yet.

“Don’t tease me, lamb,” he purred against your skin, administering a harsh slap to the side of your ass. You hissed at the sting, but you couldn’t help but tease him again to see his next move. You pushed your hips back with a stronger force now, rocking your ass up against the form of his dick through his pants. A low growl rolled through his throat. “Testing me, hmm? Someone’s getting brave.”

You felt his teeth sink into the flesh of the back of your neck, and you whimpered at the sudden pain. He lapped at it slowly, softly, seemingly savoring every taste. You whined as he drew his tongue across your skin. “So… how do I punish you? I told you we were on my terms,” he sang sweetly in your skin, almost menacingly.

His hand traveled from your waist to the waistband of your small pajama shorts, pushing his fingers down to tease you through the fabric of your panties. You couldn’t help but let out small pants and moans as he finally gave attention to the dripping wet neediness between your legs, but you still needed more. He circled his index finger around your clit excruciatingly slowly. The sensation of his tongue on your skin and his touch through your underwear was almost more painful than none at all. You squirmed and writhed under the touch you’d been craving all night, letting out breathy moans as all your arousal from the night compounded.

He flipped you around suddenly, your back making contact with the cold counter. He lifted your shirt off, and you fumbled with the hem of his shirt, grasping desperately as you tried to remove it from his head. He smirked against your lips as he picked you up by the hips, hoisting you up like you weighed nothing. You clawed at him desperately to keep your balance as he led you to the bedroom, tossing you back on your bed like a toy. He stripped himself fully, his dick springing out from his pants excitedly. 

His eyes trained on your body hungrily as he crawled over you. “We’re playing by my rules today. Be a good girl, okay?”

You nodded, eagerly accepting whatever terms he had in order to feel him against you. You weren’t quite expecting his next words, though.

“You don’t cum unless I tell you to. And trust me, darling. You don’t want to know what happens if you disobey.” His lips twitched into a sadistic smile, marveling at your body as he kissed down torturously slow. He ripped your shorts, then your underwear, teasing his tongue and lips over your thighs for a while as you squirmed. Then, finally, giving you what you desired most. His tongue against your clit, warm and wet, washing you over with immediate pleasure like you’d never felt before.  

The sensation of his tongue against you was almost more than you could handle, and you were practically writhing and thrashing at the sensitivity. Heat rose in your core, flooding through your whole body. Your every nerve felt like it was on fire. He worked his tongue devilishly, leaving no part of your pussy untouched, dancing it along your clit like it was his only reason for existing. His tongue practically worshipped you, and you ate up the soft moans and growls that escaped him. His eyes were darker, but not fully consumed with black yet, as he glanced up from between your legs for only a moment, before going back in hungrily.

It was getting harder, nearly impossible actually, to keep your body from rocking itself into orgasm. It built inside you, a knot twisting at the base of your stomach, ready to burst at any moment. “San, please can I—”

“Cute. Begging. It won’t get you anywhere, darling,” he sang mockingly, his hot breaths washing over you. 

“Please—” Tears spilled over in your eyes, pouring down your cheeks as the sensations intensified seemingly exponentially. “Please please please,” you pleaded, not caring how desperate you sounded. You couldn’t take it. 

“There are those pretty, pretty tears,” he cooed. “Keep crying for me baby, then maybe I’ll consider letting you cum.”

Not that you had a choice, but you obeyed. The tears came and came as you thrashed under him, holding yourself back so much that you ached. You’d never been so restrained, for a moment you even wondered if this is what San felt like every day when holding back his urges.

He came up from between your legs for a moment to lick the salty tears from your face, dragging a fingernail under your chin. You squirmed needily under him, and although you knew begging wouldn’t get you anywhere, you felt you had no choice. 

“San—”

“Yes, lamb?” He met your eyes, and you could barely keep them open with the overwhelming sensations. 

“Please, I need you to… please. I can’t take it anymore.”

His wet tongue slid over your cheek, lingering his fangs over for a moment, then came up to meet your gaze. “Fine. I’ve had my fun for now, I suppose. But keep crying for me, mmkay? You’re cute when you’re helpless.”

He made his way back down, torturing his lips over every inch of your shoulders, breasts, stomach, hips, until finally settling between your legs again. The first brush of his tongue was nearly enough to send you over the edge, but you held out for a few moments, letting him get your completely riled up again. 

His fingers found their way inside you, only pumping a few times before you were completely putty in his hands. You shook as the orgasm rocked through you violently. San gripped your hips tightly as you thrashed, keeping you steady. You’d never cum so hard in your life, even when picturing San while you worked your vibrator. Somehow, he was ten times better. A million times, even. 

“Good girl,” he praised, stroking your stomach for a few moments before going back in with his tongue. You couldn’t control your hips from bucking violently as he lapped at your folds, completely drenched from your orgasm. You cried out—the sensitivity was almost too much to bear. “Now be a good girl for me and cum again.” 

“Ah—sensitive—” you whined, thrashing against his hands holding you down. You felt him smirk against you, indicating he knew exactly what he was doing. It took him barely even a few minutes to work you into your second orgasm, whimpering and shaking as you came down. Tears leaked from your eyes, some left over from your original bout, some fresh from the overstimulation. He came back up to lick them off your cheeks with a satisfied grin. 

“Good little lamb,” he purred. You loved his praise, even if it had a condescending sting to it, it felt so amazing dripping like honey in your ears. 

You were surprised how well he was keeping himself together, unlike your previous sexual encounter with him, where he’d completely lost control to his demon instincts. His eyes were darker than usual, a deep, sinister blood red, but not black. Nowhere near. That was a part of him you wished you didn’t have to see again.

You writhed under his touch as he swiped a finger between your folds, testing your wetness. “I’ll try to be gentle for this one,” he growled. “No promises.” 

“Fuck me, please,” you breathed against his lips, bringing your hand down to guide the tip of his dick right between your legs. 

He thrust in slowly at first, taking his time adjusting to every small movement. He shook as you watched his eyes flicker to black for a moment, then back to red, again to black, then red, as if he was fighting with himself. He pushed all the way in this time, bottoming out inside of you. You cried out, experiencing such complete fullness for the first time. He wasn’t enormous, in fact you’d say his cock was just the perfect size, but he was much bigger than any toy you’d ever used. 

“Fuck, those pretty little noises are gonna drive me crazy,” he growled lustfully, thrusting out and then in again fully. You threw your head back in pleasure, taking in every sensation of him stretching you out, his dick hitting exactly the right curves inside you, places you didn’t even realize he could reach. 

He fisted his hands in the sheets beside your head as he thrust in and out, alternating slow and fast in a way that made your head spin completely. He kept eye contact with you the entire time, the same hungry and magnetic gaze he always had, except there was something beneath the surface this time. Something softer, almost loving. You didn’t have a mind for romance now, though. 

Your mind could only process the feeling of him inside you. His fingernails dug into the sheets with so much force you swore they were going to rip to shreds in his grip. He latched his teeth onto your neck forcefully, drawing blood. At the same time, you felt him lurch inside of you, shaking and growling as he spilled out inside you. Warm cum dripped around his dick as he slid out slowly, and there was another warm sensation you could make out—blood spilling from your neck. 

“San—San—towel, now,” you demanded anxiously, the two dripping fluids making you feel a bit uneasy. He took care of the cum first, wiping it off the blanket, then lapped his tongue on your wound a few times before sticking a bandage on it. Where did he get that, anyway?

“You’re a mess,” he commented teasingly, a cheeky flash of fangs dancing up on his lips. 

“Yeah, thanks to you,” you grumbled, running your palm over the bandages securing your bite marks. “I can’t believe you didn’t… y’know.”

“Lose it?”

“Yeah. That.”

“Trust me darling, it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Your taste is especially intoxicating. Your pussy tastes even better than your blood, somehow.”

You laughed at the unexpected compliment. It felt weird for such a hot guy to be talking to you about the taste of your pussy at 2am. A demon, no less. You almost felt embarrassed in his gaze, despite just fucking so intensely. You were suddenly incredibly self-conscious about your naked body as he watched you. You wrapped yourself in your hands, shrinking down slightly as you concealed your body from his gaze. 

“Hey, stop that,” he said firmly. “Why are you hiding? Your body is incredible. I’d say you look like an angel, but we kinda hate those where I’m from.” He smiled gently. “But you do look divine.”

Heat rose through your cheeks, staining them red. He’d always complimented your smell, your taste—he’d never praised your body before. You motioned towards the closet, and he tossed you a shirt reluctantly. You threw it quickly over your head, still feeling bashful despite his nice comment. 

You fell asleep shortly after getting cleaned up, tucked neatly into your bed by your sweet house-demon.

Demons, you learned, didn’t need sleep, despite their human need for practically everything else—food, massages, sex. You had forgotten for a moment why he was even there in the first place, the sex having completely over-ridden the events of the day beforehand. You forgot all about being potentially in danger, your mind only filled with thoughts of San.

He sat by your side all night, or so you knew from what he told you the next morning. He said you were cute when you sleep. His lamb. The idea of him watching over you protectively all night made your heart ache, in a way both good and bad. You weren’t sure if you could say it for sure yet, but you were falling in love with him. 

But it could never work between you. It was too good to be true. It had to be.

[joonie-beanie]

Wet Dreams

Pairing: Belphegor x Reader

Word Count: 3,564

Preview: Basically, the 4th night of "Good Night Devil", but if you ended up alone with Belphie instead. Seriously...his brothers are idiots to trust him. He's just as horny as the rest of them. Especially for you.

“Do you want me to fuck you? Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”

“Yes. A lot."

WARNING: This chapter focuses on Sonmophilia. If you are not comfortable with this, or the idea of con-noncon/dubcon, please do not read.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 2/14/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

Belphegor finds himself staring at you as you sleep.

For the first time in 3 nights, you’re actually resting—curled up in the middle of your spacious bed, breathing softly. Thanks to Lucifer’s ongoing “sleep experiment”, tonight Belphie has been instructed to stay in your room with you.

Originally, he had been paired with Satan, but after Satan had teased the eldest brother with a remark on how “Belphie being around won’t stop me from doing what I want”, Lucifer had taken it upon himself to keep you protected while rooming with the Avatar of Wrath.

So now, on the final and fourth day, Belphegor finds himself alone with you.

Honestly, he’s a bit offended that Lucifer had paired just the two of you together. Does his older brother not think he’ll try anything? He likes you just as much as the others, he just…doesn’t show you as much affection as Beel, or Mammon (even though the second oldest will definitely deny that he does at all).

Sighing, Belphegor runs a hand through his messy hair, his eyes refocusing on your sleeping form once more. You really do look cute like that…

At that moment, you shift in your sleep—the covers around you sliding down your torso as you flip to your other side. Immediately, Belphegor’s gaze focuses in on your squished-together cleavage, and his cheeks redden. Why do you have to sleep in only a tank top and shorts? Shouldn’t you be a little more careful around him and his brothers?

After all, it’s not like they don’t have desires…

His eyes rake over your soft skin—settling on the curve of your neck, as he imagines how pretty you’d look covered in hickies. A dull ache settles in his gut, and while he knows he should stop, he continues to let his mind wander.

He imagines your breasts in his hands, and the quiet little sounds you’d make as he touched you—unable to help yourself. He’s sure your skin is soft, and he wants to caress every inch of it, until he knows of each mole, scar, or otherwise.

Shit, he thinks to himself, hand moving down to palm at his crotch. He’s hard thanks to his roaming imagination, but…as much as he wants to touch you, that would be wrong, right?

His thoughts return to last week, when he’d accidentally run into you at the junction of two hallways. He’d ended up on top of you—one of his hands firmly planted on your breast, and his knee pressed up against your pelvis. You’d both immediately flushed red once realizing the position you were in, and Belphegor had stumbled off you—stuttering apologies.

“It’s okay,” you’d told him, attempting to laugh it off. “No worries, Belphie. I know that you didn’t mean to touch me in that way, but…I’d trust you anyway.”

Your words had weighed heavy in his mind following that day. You’d reassured him that it’d be okay if he touched you, even though he hadn’t meant to in that moment. Did that mean you wanted him to touch you like that?

The Avatar of Sloth swallows harshly, his hand reaching down to grab the edge of your covers. Slowly, he peels them down your sleeping form—not too surprised that you don’t awake. Beel had informed him that during the time he and you had roomed together, he’d picked up on your sleeping habits—one being that once you got to sleep, it was very hard to wake you during the first few hours.

Belphegor hates that he gets aroused at the idea of touching you while you’re unaware. But…it would be so easy. To just slip your tank top down your shoulders…listening to you quietly moan as he sucks on your tits—his fingers finding their way beneath your shorts…

Before he can think twice, he finds himself lowering onto the bed beside you. Gently, he grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding when you don’t stir.

If he were a human, surely he’d be going to hell for this, but since he’s already here…

Reaching out, he cups your breast though your shirt—the flesh squishing beneath his fingertips. He feels your nipple harden—pressing up against the flat of his palm—and a quiet chuckle sneaks past his lips. Even in your sleep, your body can’t deny it’s desires, huh?

Gaining a little courage, the Avatar of Sloth slips the straps of your tank top off of your shoulders—additional inches of skin becoming exposed to his hungry eyes. And despite wanting to rip your shirt off of you—Belphie works slowly—peeling the fabric down inch by inch until finally, your breasts are fully accessible.

Immediately, he leans over—flattening his tongue against one of your nipples and giving an experimental lick. At the sensation, your breathing hitches slightly, but you don’t awaken. He grins, hand reaching out to claim the other mound as his mouth continues working at the present one.

Despite being asleep, it’s clear that your body has sensed a change. Quiet whines begin to build in your throat—eyebrows furrowing on your forehead. However, the sounds only urge Belphie to proceed.

His tongue continues swirling around your taut nipple—teeth gently nipping at the bud on occasion, and the whines that leave you in response has the Avatar of Sloth’s cock straining against his underwear. Without ceasing, his eyes drag down your torso, pausing at the crotch of your shorts. He can see your thighs clenching ever so slightly.

I wonder, he thinks to himself, his hand releasing your breast. His fingers sneak beneath the hem of your shorts—oh-so-very-gently parting your folds—and sure enough, immediately your arousal coats his skin.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” he mumbles to himself, his hot breath fanning against you. “Do you like that I’m toying with you while you’re asleep?”

Belphie sucks your tit into his mouth, his fingers rubbing at your clit, and you mewl beneath him. You stir slightly, your limbs stretching against the sheets, but Belphegor is too distracted to care. If you wake up, then you wake up. However, until then, he has no intention of stopping.

His hard-on presses against your side as he teases a finger in between your walls. Your juices coat the digit, but it’s not enough to draw you out of your slumber. So, he pushes in a second—realizing that the current situation is becoming something akin to a game to him. At this point, he’s curious to find exactly how far he can go before you finally wake up.

“Mmm,” you moan, your body shifting. Your hips roll against his hands—clearly your subconscious knows something is going on—and Belphegor laughs quietly. He curls his fingers against your walls—his lips nibbling at the skin on your chest.

“You look pretty all marked up,” he whispers, admiring the fresh red marks he’s created. He knows by morning they’ll be a delicious shade of purple, and the thought causes him to ache. Frowning, he reaches down and strokes himself over his pants. Oh, how he wishes he could just fuck you awake.

…wait.

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Belphegor scoots down the mattress and in between your thighs. Arousal has pooled between your legs—wetting the fabric of your shorts—and Belphie peels the cloth to the side. Your cute, glistening folds stare back at him, and he reaches his hands forward, spreading his fingers in a V shape so he can see you in all of your glory.

“You haven’t let any of my brothers see you like this, right?” he questions, his tone possessive. He shoves his sweats down his thighs, his hands grabbing your lower half. He drags you down to meet him, his cock rubbing between your soft folds—his pre-cum smearing with your own arousal.

The Avatar of Sloth toys with you for a few seconds—basking in the way your fingers curl into the sheets when the head of his cock flicks against your clit—but finds his self-control wearing thin. He wants to be inside you.

Reaching down—he grabs his length with one hand, and lifts your hips off the bed with the other (really, sometimes it’s easy to forget he’s a demon, and has strength you can’t fathom). Slowly, Belphegor aligns himself with your entrance, his eyes glued on the space between your bodies as he slowly pushes himself inside of you.

In fact, he is so preoccupied with drooling over the way your pussy feels around him, that he fails to notice your fluttering eyelashes—your groggy gaze shifting around as you try to figure out what’s going on.

Until just a moment ago, you’d been having a strange dream. At first, it’d started off as nothing out of the ordinary—you were wandering around the House of Lamentation, doing nothing in particular—but part way through, things had suddenly turned…sexual. Belphie had appeared out of nowhere, whispering dirty things into your ear as his hands found their way beneath your clothing.

Now that you’re awake, the images are beginning to blur in your memory, but you remember, at the very least, that things had just been starting to get good. His mouth on your tits, his hands parting your legs as he prepared to enter you.

“Mmm,” you whine, eyebrows pinching as you feel some pressure in your lower half. You feel…stretched, full—and instinctively clench your muscles, wondering what could be wrong.

“Mm, fuck,” you hear someone’s voice catch—a groan caught behind closed lips—and your eyes open a little wider. You brain fully boots-up, and you become aware of quite a few things at once.

One, your chest is in the open air—your nipples hard, and sore, but somehow, you feel that the reaction isn’t from your lack of covers alone.

Two, the pressure you’re feeling in your lower half is not just a figment of your imagination. Something is inside of your pussy and—

Just as you begin to panic, your eyes flit downward, and you pause. You spot the Avatar of Sloth between your legs—his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and a pure look of ecstasy on his face as he bottoms out inside of you. You can feel the head of his cock pressed up against your cervix, and you gasp—cheeks going red as you finally realize that you hadn’t just had a wet dream coincidentally. No, Belphegor had actually been touching you in your sleep.

“B-Belphie?” you question, pushing yourself up slightly to stare at him. He startles out of his bliss, his orange eyes meeting your embarrassed gaze, and in that moment, you can see an array of emotions flash across his face. He’s embarrassed at being caught, scared of how you’ll react, but…in the end, he still desperately wants to fuck you.

“You know,” he says, experimentally rolling his hips against you. The feeling of his cock inside you is suddenly very prominent—his girth a little overwhelming—and you struggle to catch your breath.

“You got really wet in your sleep. Were you dreaming about me doing this to you?”

“I…,” you can’t find the words to say, your blush creeping down your neck and onto your chest. Belphegor grins happily, his fingers pressing into your skin as he drags his cock out, and then forces it back in again.

“Oh? I was just teasing, but it looks like I hit the nail on the head.”

Your mouth opens, but no words come out. How are you supposed to respond? Had he really been touching you in your sleep? It’s not like you weren’t interested in the youngest brother, and hadn’t daydreamed about him before in this light, but…you hadn’t imagined him ever being bold enough to literally fuck you out of your sleep.

Belphegor grinds into you once more—his cock pressing into your sweet spot—and you moan, your spine curving upward off the mattress. You can sense the pleasure that has already pooled in your gut—the sensation either left over from your wet-dream, a product of Belphegor’s actions in real life, or both.

Humming, the youngest brother coasts his hand up your torso—his fingers dragging across your supple skin and causing goosebumps to rise. His touch ghosts between your breasts, his warm palm settling against your throat as the pads of his fingers squeeze firmly on either side of your neck.

“Do you like that I played with you without you knowing?” he asks, but you can tell he already knows the answer. He rocks against you—his length dragging between your walls at an agonizingly slow pace. One that has a whine building in your throat—your body shifting down to try and quicken his thrusts.

In response, Belphegor squeezes your neck a little harder, and you feel light headedness beginning to set in.

“I’d really like it if you answered my question.”

“Yes,” you respond. As if rewarding you, the Avatar of Sloth bucks his hips a little harder—his pace speeding up incrementally.

“Have you been wanting this to happen?” he continues, an edge to his tone. You realize that as you reaffirm his suspicions, his arousal grows. He wants to hear you admit all the dirty things you’ve thought about him and have kept to yourself.

“A lot.”

Again, Belphegor ups the intensity—lewd, wet sounds echoing throughout your room as he penetrates you. His hair is messier than usual, a dark look in his eye that lets you know he’s enjoying this a bit too much.

Despite not being the best of friends with Lucifer, he certainly has inherited a bit of his older brother’s sadistic tendencies…

“Belphie, mm, please,” you beg, your eyes half lidded as you glance at him. He’s pounding into you with no remorse, the bedframe creaking with his movements. At the same time, his fingers continue to tighten around your throat. You can still breathe perfectly fine (albeit your breaths coming out short and hitched thanks to his cock and the wonders it’s doing to you), but things are starting to become a bit fuzzy thanks to the lack of blood flow. Yet, somehow, the sensation only causes the fire smoldering in your gut to reach new levels.

Belphegor feels your pussy clench around him, and he basks in the way your head falls back against the sheets—your eyes mindlessly watching him as he unravels you. Really, he wants to choke you even more—keep you a mindless little puppet who can do nothing but take what he gives—but he doesn’t want to hurt you. You’re a human, and this is the first time you’ve both been intimate like this, so. Despite his deep, dark desires, he loosens his grip.

Immediately you breathe deeply, your eyes regaining their light as your mind becomes more aware.

“Do you want to cum?” he asks, his hand still holding your neck firmly. You nod your head, bottom lip catching between your teeth. The look on your face is one of pure ecstasy—a hint of desperation beginning to knit between your eyebrows—and Belphie licks his lips.

Truly, he wants to burn this memory into his mind. You—writhing against the sheets, filled to the brim with his cock—your tits bouncing at every thrust, and your fingers gripping at the sheets. He’s not sure he’s seen anything so beautiful.

“I want you to beg.”

“Please,” you respond immediately, never breaking eye contact. “Please, Belphie. I want to cum so bad.”

“How bad?” Even if his member throbs painfully at your words—his own release taunting him—he doesn’t feel like letting you off so easy.

“V-Very bad,” you stutter, knowing that you could cum at any moment. You’re only holding on by a thread. However, there’s a submissive part of you that wants his permission first—even if holding back makes you feel like you’re going insane.

“I need to cum, Belphie. Please. Oh god, please!”

Your spine curves, eyes pressing shut and knuckles turning white, and Belphie knows this is it. You’ve reached your breaking point.

“Cum,” he commands, permitting your release. Immediately, your walls hug his cock—a guttural groan sneaking past your lips as you let go of yourself. The Avatar of Sloth loses himself in the way your pussy grips his length—attempting to milk his orgasm out of him—and it works.

He curses, his fingers once again pressing against your neck as he empties himself inside of you. You whine at the feeling—wet, and sticky, and perhaps you’ve gone a bit light headed again from his grasp (but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love it).

“Belphegor,” you whisper once you’re sure his bliss has subsided—his eyes fluttering open as his gaze falls on you. You look a little helpless now—and immediately the youngest brother sweeps down to kiss you. The gesture is sweet—his lips soft—and you lift your arms to wrap around him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, a little heartbroken by how defenseless you look now that the heat of the moment has subsided. Even if you had both enjoyed yourselves, Belphegor is guilty of quite literally fucking you out of your sleep, and he’s sure the entire scenario is a bit startling.

Beneath him, hugging him to your chest, you shake your head.

“No, it’s okay,” you reassure him, your cheeks flushing pink. “I enjoyed that. It was just…unexpected.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss beneath your jaw. You giggle, your hands petting through his hair.

“I suppose you’re right.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, and Belphie blinks when your hands suddenly leave him. Glancing up, he finds that both of your palms are now covering your face—your blush beginning to sneak down onto your chest.

“Ahhhh~ I can’t believe I woke up with your dick inside of me,” you whisper, clearly frazzled. Belphegor laughs, pressing more kisses to your naked skin.

“And you loved it. Now stop freaking out, and let’s go to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

“Lil brat,” you grumble, but the Avatar of Sloth only laughs again. He rolls beside you—his head still resting on your chest, and you sigh. Of course, the demon who had decided to startle you awake is now the one so easily passing out atop you.

“You can dream about round two until we get to it in real life,” he says with a yawn, his cheek nuzzling against your breast. Your face feels warm again, but you don’t respond. Instead, you soak in Belphegor’s warmth—and within minutes, his steady breathing has lulled you back into sleep.

“How was your night?”

Lucifer’s voice startles you as you walk into the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. You jump, turning to face him with wide eyes. There’s an innocent smile plastered on his face.

“Good,” you respond, forcing a smile of your own as you try to keep any intimate memories of the previous night from resurfacing in your head. “I actually got some sleep.”

“Whhhhatttt? I figured Belphie would keep you up all night. He’s the king of night owls,” Leviathan speaks up from the table, turning to look at you and Lucifer.

“Well, he did wake me up, at some point,” you respond without really thinking, and immediately seven pairs of eyes are on you.

“Why?” Satan questions, his eyebrow raised curiously. Gazes shift between you, and Belphegor—who is sat at the far end of the table. He seems unbothered by the entire situation.

“I was feeling needy,” he says, and you can hear the grin in his voice, even if it doesn’t show his face. “Y/N helped me out.”

Immediately Mammon is choking on his food—Beel reaching over to smack his back. Asmo looks a little too giddy at his brother’s proclamation, eyebrows wiggling suggestively as most of the brothers turn their attention back to you—awaiting your response.

Obviously, the only logical option is to roll with it.

“Why are you all looking at me like that? I can tell what you’re thinking, you perverts.”

Neither a confirmation, nor denial. So, not necessarily a lie!

“Wow, what kind of person do you take me for?” Belphegor joins in, enjoying the moment way too much. Lucifer’s eyes narrow, not very convinced, but he doesn’t press the matter.

“I’m glad you managed to get some sleep. I’ll be awaiting your report,” he ends up saying, and then leans in a bit closer. “I expect it to be written in full detail.”

A chill runs up your spine, and he smiles at you once more before stepping away from you and heading to the table. You join him after a moment, your eyes landing on Belphegor as the youngest grins—dancing around Mammon’s questions as the second oldest begins interrogating the Sloth Avatar on the true meaning of his words.

Belphie is practically beaming as he teases his brothers, and you find yourself rolling your eyes—a fond smile tugging at your lips.

Oh gosh, what are you going to do with him…

…and oh fuck, what are you going to do with your report?

[mrsren]

Tom/Hermione Blackmail AU 1

Sharing the first part of this here because I don’t have self-control, but I’m holding back from posting on AO3 until I’m ready to write it steadily. Onto the info/warnings. 

I don’t have a summary, sorry to tell you. But I’ve got tags, which will probably give you a pretty good idea of what this story is about. 

Tags: blackmail, co-workers, D/s elements, dub-con leaning more toward non-con depending how you feel about blackmail, degradation, humiliation. Most of these come out later on, but there’s a blanket warning. 

Now onto the dirty stuff. Admittedly, there is no real smut in the first part, but there is so much sexual tension. It’s about 3k so it’s under the line. It hasn’t been edited, so sorry for the typos. 

I would super love to hear what you think, whether that’s on the post, in my messages, or ask box! 

At approximately ten past one o’clock, the door to her office swung open. Hermione didn’t raise her head when the handle twisted, when the door knocked against the wall a fraction too loud. Instead, she gestured to the corner of her desk, the only free space and not by much. 

“Please leave it in the basket.”

“Do you always speak to the couriers so rudely?” The shadow fell over her desk, and Hermione grimaced before looking up. Tom Riddle peered down at her in the annoyingly irritating way only he had. As though he was sizing her up while simultaneously believing there was nothing to observe. “No need to answer. I’ve sat across from you in enough board meetings to know.”

Placing her quill back into the stand beside a newly opened jar of ink, Hermione folded her arms and gave no reaction. “Ha. How can I help you? Have you gotten lost? Your office is another two floors down, although your desire to be in the DMLE must have brought you here anyway. I hear Harry will be looking for a new secretary soon. Perhaps you’d be a good fit?”

Riddle narrowed his eyes, and his fingers clenched the parcels so roughly that they crinkled in his grip. “The funniest thing happened this morning. Somehow, your mail was delivered to me by mistake. A new courier,” he lamented. “I’m sure you can understand how easy it is to get turned around.” He was enjoying himself entirely too much.

And the slow grin stretching his lips couldn’t mean anything good. Immediately, Hermione’s stomach dropped and her palms grew sweaty. She leaned back in her chair, and rubbed them against her jeans beneath the desk. As she did, she felt his eyes follow the movement.

His lip curled at the sight of her muggle clothes. Riddle had always hated the casual attire that came with Saturdays, when dress code was lax.

“And you’ve come to return it to me, how kind of you.” She reached for them, but he lifted them higher until they would be out of her grasp even if she stood. “Hand over my mail, Riddle. I have work to finish and I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible.”

“I thought you lived at work.” There was an edge to his voice then. “Haven’t you fallen asleep in your office several times now? All Hermione Granger does is eat, sleep, and breathe her work.”

If she ever got her hands on her mail, she was going to smack him with the largest parcel. “Have you been watching me? Perhaps you’re a bit jealous that you were passed over for the position.” That did it.

His eyes sparked, and he slammed a hand down at the edge of her desk. Papers scattered, but she snorted at the vicious glint that had taken over his eyes. “You are undoubtedly the rudest witch to work in the Ministry. What are you rushing to get out of here for, Granger?”

Tom Riddle has called her by her surname since they were first years, and the timeless rivalry between their houses had snapped into place, never wavering. When they were fellow Heads, he had called her by her first name one time, and one time only. There had been liquor involved, and him holding her up while helping her back to the shared common room while hissing that this didn’t make them friends.

She hadn’t needed the reminder. Thing was, this memory was years in the past now and there was no sense in it now. The look on his face reminded her of it though. Crystal clear, as though it had happened last week.

“I’m meeting Harry and Ron.” Hermione waited for him to roll his eyes, but he didn’t. The grin he gave was all the more terrifying. So much that she felt it in her bones, the sense of dread that put her upside down. “We have plans for dinner, and I’d like to get this done. So, if you could just…”

He waved his hand and the door to her office swung shut. The lock turned into place, and the sound of it rattled through the room. “I’m afraid your they’ll have to wait a little longer.” Finally, he hands over a few of the parcels, save for one. His knuckles have turned white from his grip on it. And then Hermione saw that the top of it had been ripped open.

“Did you open my mail?” She shot out of her seat, now regretting that she’d kicked her shoes off the second she got in. Now if she rounded the desk to yell at him from an even closer distance—and it was tempting—he’d only laugh at her. “Riddle, that’s—”

“There was no name on it.” Riddle said slowly, and there was no missing that slow chuckle under his breath. “I had no idea who it was meant for, so of course I opened it. How else would I figure it out?”

“Fine,” slipped through gritted teeth. “Just hand it over and get out.”

Riddle shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. You see, I don’t think this” –he waves the heavy envelope— “was meant for you. It certainly concerns you, but it seems to me that someone is trying to ruin you.”

Her brows shot up, nearly taking a new home in her hairline. “Spare me the bloody dramatics, and give me my mail.”

He didn’t hand it over, but he pulled the contents from inside and let them fly across her desk.

A knot formed in her stomach, tying itself over and over again. They were all photos of herself in various states of undress—some of them showed her completely nude—and she recognized the hands on her in some as her Viktor’s. He must have kept them after they had broken up. “What the fuck—” Hermione began, but she struggled to take a proper breath. “You’ll hand these over immediately, Riddle.”

He clicked his tongue. “I think I’ll pass, actually.”

“Would you rather be arrested?” Hermione all but snarled it. She’d set them on fire, if it weren’t for the parchment under them. They’d catch fire just as well, but perhaps it would be worth it. A final resort, if Riddle didn’t come to his senses.

Gone was his former irritation, and all there was now was his amusement. He didn’t bother to hide it at all. “Unless you’d like for me to tell them how you blackmailed Cassius Parkinson into voting for your bill last summer…”

Her throat could have closed up with how she couldn’t breathe. I have no idea what you’re talking about. That was what she should have said, but it was nowhere near what fucking came out of her mouth. “How do you know about that?”

The photos were still staring up at her, and he was staring at them too much for her liking. She couldn’t recognize him anymore when he did, or that way his eyes darkened when they lingered. “I have quite a few acquaintances, Granger. His daughter was in our year, you must remember, and when Cassius is pissed, he likes to rant.”

“And I was his most recent topic.”

He shrugged. “A few weeks ago, you were. Now that I have not one, but two things I’m able to hold over that pretty little head of yours, I think you’ll be much more agreeable.”

Voices grew louder as footsteps sounded on the other side of the door, and Riddle came around her desk. Hermione took an involuntary step back, and hated the way he smiled when she did. “Why would you want that?”

He’d foregone his dress robes today, but she wished he hadn’t. The way his trousers fit him were even more distracting, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms. Riddle leaned forward, placing a hand on her desk—on the photo, over her bare breasts—and smiled like he knew exactly where his palm had landed. “You’re a quick study, Granger. I think you’ll figure it out.”

She thought she already had with he way he was staring at her. “Please, just let me take the photos. I’ll give you money, or—”

“I don’t want your money.”

Hermione swallowed. “Then what do you want?”

“Right now,” He shifted his stance, and lifted his hand so he could drag his fingertip across the photo. “I want you to tell me why you took these photos and what’s happening in them. You can manage that surely, hmm?”

Her heartbeat was uneven in her chest, to the point that it hurt, and she couldn’t think of a way out of this. “Have you made copies?” The pleading in her voice was very much real, but she knew the answer before he said it.

“Of course.” He lifted his other hand, and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Now, you know what you’re meant to do, don’t you?”

Hermione would like to snap at him, to yell for the Aurors—which there was no shortage of on this floor. But the truth of what she’s done would be enough to earn her termination, and her achievement of earning deputy department head sooner than anyone else would cease to matter. Not only that, but the legislation it had helped her pass would be called into question.

And he knew it.

“It was for my ex boyfriend’s birthday.” Hermione whispered. “I posed for him on our bed while he photographed me, and charmed the camera when we—”

His finger slid against the base of her throat, warm and coaxing. “Then this was your idea?”

She nodded, and did not lean into him.

She. Did. Not.

“Tell me about this one. And do a good job of it.” The threat was unmistakably clear, and she wished that it didn’t effect her in the way it did.

Fear swirled in the pit of her stomach, sick and vicious, but that wasn’t all. Hermione squeezed her eyes shut, not willing to look at the feeling any closer. “I’m going to get you back for this.” Her voice was ragged, too breathy, and not enough anger.

It didn’t go unnoticed. “I’m sure you will. I’m rather looking forward to it, but I’ve asked you a question. You don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

In the photograph he’d pointed out, it was nearly only of her save for the hand on her neck, and the fingers wrapped around her throat. She looked past Viktor’s arm, swallowing, and looked at herself for a moment. “We’re having sex.”

Riddle shook his head.

“He’s fucking me.” Hermione said unevenly. “It was the second time that night.”

“He’s choking you.” Riddle’s voice was low, but not soft, and he curled a finger under her chin to lift her head. When she tried to turn away, his grip tightened and he forced her to look at him. “Was that for him, or for you?”

“For me.” Hermione swallowed tightly, and he watched her. “He never liked it.”

He let go of her jaw, and his fingers drifted lower. Riddle’s knuckles brushed against the front of her throat, and she thought he might try to recreate that photo. “I’m not going to choke you.” His voice softened when she flinched. “Why didn’t he like it?”

Why did he want to know? What difference could it make? From the way this had started and continued on, there was clearly one thing he was after. “If your plan is to blackmail me for sex, you should just get it over with.”

“I can assure you that I have no intentions of simply getting it over with, Granger.”

Of course he would want to drag this out—to savor it for as long as he could. Surely there was something she could find on him so she could turn the tables. It would mean that they would be in a hopefully constant stalemate, but there was no doubt that Tom Riddle was the sort of man that would keep going until he regained the upper hand.

Where would that leave her?

The only option for now was to play along, and to pretend there wasn’t a thrill that came with it.

“Viktor thought it felt like abusing me. He rarely ever choked me.”

“That’s a shame. And what of this one?” He pointed to another photo, but by the time she dragged her eyes back to him, she found that he’d hardly looked away from her.

She was on her back, and it’s a terribly explicit photograph. Hermione’s skin was flush, soft. Her breasts are exposed, and she can see herself in the moment reaching a hand between her thighs.

Her legs were spread, and her head was over the edge of the bed.

“I’m sucking his cock.” Her hands curled into fists.

“It’s impressive.” There were his fingers again, dropping to her shoulder where he nudged her jumper to the side. “You’ve taken him all the way down your throat.”

Under his thumb was a terrifying place to be. “He told me to play with my cunt. Viktor wanted to see me come while I sucked him off.”

He toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. “Did you come all over your fingers?”

Hermione bit her lip, hard. “I—yes.”

“You’re holding back.” Riddle murmured, and the room grew smaller. There were footsteps on the other side of the door, and anyone could hear them if she weren’t comfortable. If anyone were to unlock the door and come in, the photos— A small sound escaped her when he shifted their stance. He pinned her against her own desk, and he grabbed her by the jaw again. “Tell me.”

“I squirted.”

His breath came out hard, uneven, and she swallowed. For a moment, she hadn’t thought that she should be afraid and yet, she couldn’t drum up an ounce of fear. “Sweet fucking Circe.” Riddle was pressed against her, and she felt him against her lower stomach. “Would you like to know which of these is my favorite?”

No. Absolutely fucking not. You’re a disgusting pervert.

Any of them would have been acceptable. By playing along with this part of his game, she was only being complacent. A dangerous thing to be when he would notice it. Thing was, she desperately wanted to know. Her stomach had turned over on itself, and she knew that she was wet. Hermione did not rub her thighs together, no matter how badly she needed the friction. He would have felt it.

It made her wonder what he would have done if she had.

“Yes.”

The grin he gave her was one she’d never seen. He leaned into her, his chest pressing against hers, and picked up a photo from her desk. “It’s this one,” As he said it, Riddle pushed it into her hands.

Out of all of them, she wasn’t sure this was the one she would have guessed to be his favorite. Perhaps the one where she’s spread out across the bed, her head on the pillows with her legs spread. “This one?” Hermione echoed. “Why?”

She was on her knees, still completely bare, and she’d pressed her chest forward. Hermione’s head was tilted up, her lips slightly parted. It’s not a tame photo—nothing she would ever want anyone else to see—but it’s nowhere near as revealing as the others.

“I want you on your knees for me.” Riddle groaned under his breath. “I want you staring up at me just like this.” He cupped her face, and ran his thumb across her lower lip, then slid it forward.

Hermione took his thumb in her mouth, and swirled her tongue around it, hating how she’d done it.

“You’re going to be a perfect little slut for me, aren’t you?”

She whimpered.

“Oh, do you like that as well? Is that another thing he wouldn’t give you?”

It was, and Hermione nodded.

“What a fucking fool.” When he pulled his finger from her mouth, his fingers came to rest against her throat. He didn’t tighten them as he watched her. “I want to see you on your knees for me, wearing a collar while you take my cock down your throat.”

Hermione caved. She rubbed her thighs together, and gripped the edge of the desk until her knuckles turned white. “Riddle—”

“You’ll call me Tom from now on.” He cut her off.

“And if I don’t?” It sounded more like her.

He flexed his fingers. “I’m dying for you to act like a brat so I can punish you, Hermione.” Her name sounded too good on his tongue. “You’re going to be late.”  

Hermione’s head spun. She’d blow off her plans with Harry and Ron. The first thing she needed to do was to get home because she was positively fucking aching.

Riddle gathered the photos, sliding them back into the parcel and left it in the middle of her desk. “I’ll see you soon, Granger.” 

[hellsbedroom]

NSFW Alphabet // Peter Parker

peter parker x reader

*peter is an adult here.

Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Talk about basking in the glow. Peter smiles with his eyes still shut and his chest heaving as he presses a kiss to your cheek and collapses next to you. “God, you always feel amazing,” he whispers hoarsely. But soon he’s grabbing your hand and tugging you along with him for the next part. You trot to the bathroom to get cleaned up and then it’s onto the kitchen to pick out snacks — you both prefer to do aftercare together, where you can still enjoy each other’s company and laugh all the while.

B = Body part (favorite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

He appreciates his arms. Sometimes he forgets it but he’s very strong (sorry about the accidental punch, Flash) and his arms do so much of the Spider-Man acrobatics. Hugging you is one of his favorite feelings in the world and his arms take care of that, too. And the best of both worlds is when he’s clutching you as he swings both of you high above the New York skyline.

For you? He adores your neck. It’s his favorite spot to hide his face when he needs a break from all the pressure and you welcome him with open arms. Your soft skin against his cheek calms him immediately. Your neck is also a place where he can so easily affect you with a kiss or his teeth. The sweetest little sound comes from your throat when he brushes his lips along your neck and he can’t get enough of it.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum basically)

When you’re protected by a condom or birth control etc., Peter prefers to cum inside you. Being completely tangled up in each other is an unmatched feeling and he loves cumming when his hips are lodged all the way against yours. But sometimes you let him cum down your chin and throat when you give him a blowjob and he’ll look at you like you hung the stars in the sky.

D = Dirty secret (an interesting dirty secret of theirs)

His senses are dialed up to eleven, remember? So he can sense everything about you. When your heartbeat quickens, when your skin heats up, when you’re that close to the edge. And he uses it to his advantage. He knows exactly when you’re ready to go from Netflix to chill with a single glance. When he tries something new — a smack to your ass or grabbing your wrists a little harder — and your heart skips a beat, it’s game on. And don’t get him started on knowing that your climax is near. “You’re close, aren’t you?” he’ll murmur, knowing full well what he’s doing to you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

This is the internet age. So while Peter may have been too busy with school and saving the world to get a lot of experience, he’s knowledgeable as hell. And god is he eager to learn how to apply it to you. After a little trial and error and a lot of communication, he’ll know exactly what he’s doing. And while he’s sometimes surprised by your reactions, it’s never a bad thing. He just smirks and tucks the little piece of information away in his mind. 

F = Fantasy (what’s their favorite fantasy/roleplay?)

Grateful damsel in distress. All you have to do is squeeze his arms or cup his cheek and say, “My hero,” and he’s suddenly keen to show you just the kind of hero he is under the suit. He’ll play it up in public by swinging by you unexpectedly and scooping you into his arms, making you yelp and cling to him. You’re very grateful for your very own Spider-Man and are not afraid to show him just that ;)

G = Goofy (are they more serious or goofy in the moment?)

Peter is a goofy and playful guy, especially with foreplay. He’s the king of turning tickle fights into makeout sessions into everything else. Even when he’s bossing you around or his voice has turned husky with pleasure, he’s got a smile on his face when he slides into you. That being said, he’s also smart as a whip and as soon as he can tell you’re really enjoying yourself, he’ll get a little more serious. How could he not stare in awe at the way your head tips back and your mouth drops open in pleasure.

H = Hair (how groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes?)

He’s well groomed and likes to keep it that way. It feels cleaner.

I = Intimacy (how are they in the moment, romantic aspect)

Very intimate. In the rest of his life he always has to have a persona — as Spider-Man, as regular Peter Parker, etc. — so when he’s with you? As your Peter? It’s all about the intimacy, baby. Asking how you’re doing while pulling off each other’s clothes. Kissing you relentlessly and feeling his bare skin against yours. Even on nights when you’re being rougher with each other he wants to keep you close, to bore his eyes into you as he forgets the rest of the world. 

J = Jackoff (about masturbation)

He’ll do it regularly if he’s away on missions but you’re the real deal and that’s what he prefers. You’re not afraid to send him pictures and videos letting him know just how much you miss him, as long as you get a video of him jacking off in return.

K = Kink (any kinks)

Bondage — his webbing, specifically. You discover it accidentally when he’s being impatient and webs your hand to the wall, making you gasp when you look at him indignantly. His eyes darken when he sees you unable to move or retaliate and now it’s common to find the remnants of webbings on your bed posts. He likes it when you pull his hair, especially if it’s followed by a bite to his neck, because Peter Parker shows off hickies like they’re trophies. Edging goes both ways in your relationship. Being able to keep you on edge by sensing it is one of his many talents, but he also loves it when you bring him to climax achingly slow.

L = Location (favorite place to do it)

A bedroom, with all the doors locked. He’s had enough surprises throughout his life and he just wants some privacy when he’s with you. It doesn’t really matter which bedroom (your place, his quarters at the Avengers compound, etc.) as long as it’s sealed off and has a bed that gives him plenty of room to explore you. For a quickie, however...the Quinjet parked in the compound garage is a new favorite.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Peter loves seeing you focus. Whether it’s your eyes flitting around your computer screen or the way you pull your lip between your teeth when you’re concentrating hard, he can’t help but want to provide a distraction. But the way to turn him on out of nowhere is to act innocent when you know you’re not. You’ll slide your foot up his leg at a dinner with other Avengers while your facial expression doesn’t change. Or you’ll send him a wink when you bend over in public to pick something up, and in the next second you’re chatting with someone else like nothing happened. He loves to play along, innocently teasing you right back until you’re ready to pounce on each other the moment you’re alone.

N = NO (something they won’t do, turn offs)

Choking you, because he’s scared of his own strength.

O = Oral (giving and receiving)

Loverboy is a giver. He loves having you writhe underneath him and sensing your heart racing and hearing the little (or loud) sounds you make. He’s talented with his tongue and it fucking shows, you barely have to give him instructions before he figures out exactly what motions affect you the most. His voice drops the deepest when he’s going down on you, saying how good you taste or how good it must feel. Webbing your hands up is also usually part of this scenario...

But the loss of control when you go down on him is intoxicating. He’ll never ask for a blowjob (he’ll only “tell” you to when bossing you around is part of the plan) so you often surprise him with one, making him grin like a Cheshire cat. Digging your nails into his thighs will have him cumming the quickest, by the way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?)

Peter’s in between the two. He’s eager and while he does rush to get his hands all over your body, he never skips proper foreplay. His touch will be rougher if he’s freshly back from a mission and needs to forget it all but even then he’s still slower and more sensual when finally thrusting into you. 

Q = Quickie (opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

It’s part of the superhero gig. Either there’s just not enough time or too many goddamn people in the Avengers facility or your school or job makes late nights full of work instead of time with your boyfriend. In that case you’d both rather have a quickie than nothing at all, so you can expertly push each other’s buttons to make it work (even though his suit can make it tough). Peter’s adamant that you orgasm even during a quickie so it’s not a waste of your time, and honestly you do have fun with the rush of it all. However, quickies are not what he prefers. He’s with you because he’s in love with your mind and every inch of your body and having to rush through sex isn’t as worshipful as being able to take his time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

Later on in the relationship, yes. He’ll bring up things he hears friends talking about or what he finds on late-night internet dives for y’all to try. He also likes to play the game “how many New York rooftops can we fuck on” because what else are proper Spider-Man dates about?

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for, how long do they last)

He’s superhuman, including his strength and stamina. Not only is picking you up a breeze (the guy can throw school buses so getting you up and onto a bed or counter is completely doable) but he can go for as many rounds as you want. He usually doesn’t have a problem lasting a while before he cums but if he does, he just makes sure to focus on you until you’re even.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them on a partner or themselves?)

Peter Parker? Basically the son of technological wizard Tony Stark? Using toys? Duh. He refuses to let Tony give him any toys or advice but he likes trying out new ones with you. The first time you let him use your vibrator on you he couldn’t stop smiling at how easily it affected you. And turning that vibrator on him made him the loudest you’d ever heard in bed. Also he’s not opposed to buying those sets of fluffy pink handcuffs, gloves, feathers, blindfolds, etc. Why not have it all on hand?

Side note: yes, there are Spider-Man themed sex toys and no, Peter does not want them anywhere near you. He’ll fuck you in the suit or use the webbing of his own making, thank you very much.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

It’s a surprise to you the first time you get really frisky with him — but Peter’s a tease. He can sense your desperation, after all, and he likes it. Irking you and making you “be patient, please” as he riles you up gives him a rush. He knows just where to kiss and suck to make you whine and there’s a rumble from deep in his throat as he chuckles at your anguish when he moves away too fast.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

He talks a lot during foreplay, teasing you and praising you and asking, “feels good, yeah?” As things get hotter and heavier he turns to panting and gasping. It’s never very loud but the constant rumble of his contented moans lets you know that he’s enjoying exactly how you make him feel. But the strangled cry when he cums, that’s your favorite sound in the whole world. Especially if he’s crying out your name.

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

Seeing you in lingerie: Peter’s a sucker for a good lingerie set and will drop whatever he’s holding when he catches sight of you. His hands immediately brush over the lace or satin or silk as he pulls you to straddle his thighs and his gaze devours you. “For me, hm?” he murmurs, and you nod proudly. He’s not the type to rip it off you — he’ll fondle and finger and fuck you around the saucy little outfit.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s in those pants)

Long, like enough that it takes some getting used to. Average girth but a big tip. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Peter’s a busy guy and his attention is always being pulled in many directions but when you’re around he’s tuned in to you. So any time the opportunity for sex is on the table, he’s up for getting it in while he can (pun intended). Sometimes even hearing you laugh from the next room reminds him of times you laugh and gasp when he sucks on a certain spot on your skin, immediately making him want to do that again as soon as possible.

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Usually you’re both out pretty fast afterwards — giving each other your all can be exhausting. As soon as the aftercare routine is complete and you’re tucked in his arms again you can feel sleep dragging at your eyes, especially if Peter is tracing his fingers along your skin. A few times your post-sex sleep has been so deep that Peter misses an Avenger’s call, meaning they’ve walked in on you two curled up in the sheets more than once.

[nuttyrabbit]

Giovanni Conti Bio

“Nutty, are you only going to show up to post about Archie Sonic and your OCs?” Yes, yes I am

Anyways, I decided to throw together a quick bio for Gambit’s dad because hey I figured his stuff out and I’m doing shit with him now.

Shoutouts to @pidgeonspen​ for doing his design for me.

Anyways, as always, everything’s under the readmore

Name: Giovanni Conti (Real name Brando Romilla)

Age: Approximately 50 years old

Height: 3'4"

Occupation: Auto mechanic/Conman

Location: Unknown, last confirmed sighting in Westopolis. Originally born in Lugaio, Spagonia.

Sexuality: Bisexual, though greatly prefers women to the point of denying any male attraction

Personality: Giovanni's personality is what one would expect from a seasoned conman: charismatic, self-serving, and conniving, the weasel finds success in his trade thanks to his natural talent in dealing with others. To his victims, Giovanni appears to be a charming, compassionate, smooth-talking individual who seems to go out of his way to help others in their time of need. But of course it's all a farce, a way to con unsuspecting victims out of their hard-earned cash. In reality, the man formerly known as Brando Romilla is the exact opposite. A selfish, grumpy, and temperamental weasel "behind the scenes", Giovanni finds himself unwilling to engage with the world around him outside of whatever con he's cooked up or to get out of whatever mess he's gotten himself into this time.

Giovanni's most defining personality trait however, isn't his sardonic attitude or his smoothtalking ways, but instead his paranoia.  Giovanni has spent the majority of his life on the run and it shows.  He often finds himself looking over his shoulder both figuratively and quite literally, hoping that his latest victim hasn't found out about him or that the law or the mafia or whoever he's crossed hasn't tracked him down to enact their revenge.  As such, Giovanni is extremely hesitant to give out his name unless absolutely necessary for the con, even going so far as to make up fake names in emergency situations, though the truth eventually comes out.  In addition, he trusts absolutely nobody and almost always looks for a way to backstab/escape any sort of partnership he's found himself on the receiving end of, willing or otherwise.

All of this being said, it isn't *all* bad for Giovanni personality-wise, for when the weasel finds something he actually likes, one can see a softer, more eager side of him come out. Despite his professed hatred of his previous job, Giovanni has a rather deep appreciation for the intricacies of vehicles and vehicle repairs, even going so far as to sneak into antique car shows to gawk at the new vehicles and reminisce about the "good old days" before it "got so complicated" in terms of technology. Oddly enough, he also loves vinyl.

Skills: Giovanni is of course, an incredibly skilled con-man, imploying a variety of cons and scams to trick people out of their money, ranging from simple "tourist trap" tricks such as "no change", "toll booth", and "free gift", to more complicated ones such as "flat tire" schemes and even reselling stolen/counterfeit items at a significantly marked up price.  His variety in terms of cons is helped by his ability to sell them thanks to his smooth-talking charismatic persona that he puts on during them.  As a result of his occupation he's also extremely adept at pointing out other cons/knowing when he's being duped.  Not only that, but he's even picked up some basic lockpicking/hotwiring and ID forging skills, though they aren't quite as honed as his other talents in the area.

Surprisingly enough, again despite his professed dislike of his childhood job, Giovanni is an incredibly skilled mechanic, being able to assess the issues with (mostly older) vehicles just from a few minutes of observation and testing alone and fixing it in record times. OF course he'll complain about how he's "too fuckin' old" for it, but he'll do a damn good job...and even enjoy himself somewhat.   He claims he would be unable to work on "new-fangled" vehicles such as Extreme Gear but if he were to get the chance, would find that he'd be a natural at it.

Likes: Antique vehicles, wine, the feeling when he pulls of a con, vinyl records, fresh pressed suits, rare steak, expensive cigars, older women, working on antique vehicles.

Dislikes: The law, organized crime outfits, his ex-wife, his kid, getting caught, prison, cheap beer, "new" technology, people who talk too much, his grandfather, working on vehicles (his relationship with auto repair is..complicated), staying in one place for too long.

Backstory: Brando Rombilla was born into anything but normalcy:  born to a pair of younger Spagonian lovers, the result of a tryst gone wrong, he was abandoned on the steps of his paternal grandfather, the widowed mechanic Angelo Rombilla, who would raise the weasel as his own.

Angelo was an old, stubborn, hardworking man who had spent his entire life toiling away as a mechanic, even coming to own his own shop...yet despite it all, he never quite had a lot to show for it, and Brando grew up in not quite poverty, but in...less than modest means

Despite this...unusual situation, Brando would, at least for a time, grow up as any other child would, going to school, making friends, and living as a normal Spagonian child would--at least until he hit the age of 12-13, where his father suddenly and inexplicably ground his childhood to a halt, pulling him out of school and telling him that he was going to be a "working man" from now on, that he'd have to help out at the shop and help put food at the table--and that is indeed what happened.

From then on, Brando found himself working at the modest repair shop, working the front desk, doing oil changes, and learning the ins and outs of auto repair--and he fucking hated it.

Not just because he'd been robbed of the experiences his peers were getting, but it served as a constant reminder of the (at least to him) pathetic conditions in which they lived and worked. In addition, it only served to exacerbate his sheer irritation at his father's stubbornness and near-perfectionist standards.

But over time, as he aged and saw his peers move on to bigger and better things, he realized something else: all this work, all this "good, honest, hard" work he'd been doing, that his grandfather had been doing, that he wanted him to inherit, it was getting them nowhere

The both of them spent years and years doing the same shit over and over, and they were no better off than when they'd started. They still lived like shit, ate like shit, and worked like dogs, and the idea of doing this his entire life revolted him.  Yet when he'd bring this up, he'd just get shouted down, beaten down, and told to get back to work. He loathed it all.

Then one day, around the time Giovanni hit 19--it all changed. In a moment of what his grandfather would call laziness and what Brando would later call ingenuity, he accidentally charged a customer for something they hadn't done--and with it, more money than he should've had.  It suddenly hit him, his way out, his way to actually do something about all of this. It started off slow, an overcharge here, a useless job done there, a job not done this way or that, even some front product sold off of lies.  Before Brando knew it, the shop was actually making money for once, and more than that, he was making money.  And the best part was, that for once, Angelo seemed like he didn't have a stick up his ass. He seemed...happy, over the moon really that things had begun to look up.  Things seemed to finally be getting better!

....until Angelo caught Brando in the act, after which the mother of all shouting matches ensued, of the grandson and grandfather screaming at each other about this and that, about everything--and saw Brando being thrown out of the shop, out of his grandfather's home--and out of his life

Out on his ass with only the money he'd pocketed and the clothes on his back to his name, Brando  by all rights should have been terrified about his future, livid about what had happened, but instead he found himself excited. Now that his grandpappy or his stupid shop wasn't a problem anymore, he could finally do something with himself, and he knew exactly what that'd be--putting to use the same bullshittery that'd gotten him here to begin with.

And so the young weasel found himself hopping all over Spagonia, honing his craft. Whether it be through  pinching wares from stores and selling them nearby at an outrageously hiked price,  snatching and selling bootleg items, or even using his mechanic skills to craft "wonder items" that were quite literally just old scrapyard junk,  Brando soon became quite adept at the art of the con.  However, with that adeptness came attention, and with that attention came the watchful eye of the law, which attempted to crack down on the weasel multiple times as he traveled about Spagonia.

Soon enough, his face and name were plastered on wanted signs, in local papers, and in time, he couldn't run any longer, finally being booked on fraud charges and placed in prison for ~ 3 years at the age of 22.   Upon getting out,  Brando realized that he couldn't exactly do his work here anymore, lest he get thrown back in for good.

But Soleanna wasn't exactly appealing either, especially since the SPD were notorious for cracking down on fraudsters.  He was at a loss at what to do, until he managed to catch a TV broadcast talking about Empire City and it hit him- EC would be the perfect place to disappear and get a fresh start.  It was big, it was far away, and it was full of suckers just waiting to be parted with their money Forging himself a new identity (quite literally) as "Giovanni Conti" , he smuggled himself on board a ship and soon found himself in Empire City, where he almost immediately got to work--and found the results to be not what he expected

While the toursts were complete suckers as expected, the residents were anything but, and he found himself on the run from the law once more--and in addition, the various criminal orgs that made their homes there and had no tolerance for being scammed.   Needless to say, the whole thing frustrated him, and with no other way to vent his frustrations, he turned to drinking, and with it, found himself at a small bar in downtown EC, drinking away his frustrations...and chatting up an equally frustrated, and rather attractive young woman. He didn't catch her last name, but certainly caught her first- Artemis

What should have just been a simple one night tryst suddenly got a lot more complicated once the young woman had tracked him down almost a week  later with some soul-crushing news: She was pregnant, and it was almost certainly by him.  To make matters worse, Artemis was an up and coming politician, someone in the running for the EC City Council, and she would be DAMNED if it came out that she got knocked up in a one night stand, that would ruin her career! Despite Giovanni's attempts at arguing otherwise, she also insisted on keeping the child, claiming that if word got out she got rid of it, it would ruin her career. Threatening to hand him over to authorities, she blackmailed him into sticking by her side for the following 9 months, appearing in front of the cameras as a pictureesque pair of parents-to-be, Artemis embracing the newfound attention and Giovanni absolutely loathing all the eyes on him, and not only that, but also moving in together to her (admittedly) lavish apartment.

This continued up on through the end of the pregnancy and into the birth of their son, who Artemis named "Tai", a (perhaps ironic) homage to an old Apotosian patron of Luck.  From then, things continued normally, well as least as normal as could be for the unwitting parents-to-be, up until the child was around a year old, when Artemis went on a sudden vacation.  Left alone with the child and feeling helplessly trapped, Giovanni contemplated making a break for it, perhaps faking his own death and figuring out the details later, when a hooded figure burst into the home and attempted to shoot both him and the child dead.  Through a near-miraculous stroke of luck though, the intruder's gun jammed, giving Giovanni the chance to brandish a knife and stab them in the jugular.  His heart pounding, his mind racing, Giovanni quickly put two and two together: someway, somehow, Artemis had tried to get the two of them whacked.  Quickly disposing of the body and without really thinking about it, Giovanni grabbed the child and made a break for it, bolting from the apartment and leaving Empire City under cover of darkness, trying to make sure he left no trace that he had left--or was even still alive.

Soon arriving in Westopolis, Giovanni and Tai found a small apartment to squat in for the time being. Quickly settling in, Giovanni quickly fell back into his old ways, and found the people of Westopolis far more vulnerable to his schemes than in EC. Still, the weasel wasn't happy. His "new start" that he'd hoped for had fallen apart before it'd even gotten the chance to get off the ground because of *her*, Artemis. Giovanni's frustration gnawed away at him--not helped by the tiny weasel at home, his little boy--the *mistake* that'd gotten him into this mess.   He often found himself verbally and physically taking out his frustrations on young Tai, even more so when it turned out the little brat wasn't even good enough to help him on cons.  He wished he could get rid of the little bastard once and for all, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to kill him despite his best efforts.

Years went by, but nothing truly changed for the pair, until young Tai was 8 years old and Giovanni found himself on the bad end of a con gone wrong, having inadvertently found himself attempting to swindle an undercover cop.  Rushing back to the apartment he and Tai shared, he quickly grabbed whatever tools he could and attempted to disappear, leaving the young Tai behind for good.

Throwing himself out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire, Giovanni had managed to disappear and evade the cops---and run right into one of his "victims": "Downtown" Ebony Hare--a "made man" in the Carnades, one of the major local outfits--and someone who he'd given a shoddy brake job.  Ebony recognized the weasel almost immediately and motioned to off him for messing up his car, but after Giovanni pleaded for his life, Ebony spared him-- on the condition that he work off his "debts" to him and the Carnades.

Faced with either paying his dues or paying with his life, Giovanni made the obvious choice and ended up doing quite a few small jobs for Ebony over the course of the next decade and change (approx  13 years) not only fixing his car but also fixing the other vehicles in the outfit--and giving a disgustingly large portio nof the proceeds from his other "work" directly to Ebony.  Once again, Giovanni was trapped doing the very thing he'd been stuck doing since childhood and not only that, but also indebted to a mobster who had no intention of letting him go.  He desperately tried to find a way out, but it was to no avail--until a near miraculous stroke of "luck".

The Black Arms invasion decimated a significant portion of Mobius, especially Northamer, and no place found itself worse off than Westopolis. For most living there, it seemed like the end times as  the city burned around them. But for Giovanni, it was an opportunity to finally disappear--and never come back.

The invasion soon ended, the repairs soon begun, and the Carnades began to operate once more--but Giovanni was nowhere to be found. Despite a thorough search of the city, the weasel had just...vanished, presumably killed by the aliens or escaping to parts unknown after.  

Giovanni's current location is unknown and those who know of him believe him to be dead, but there have been some apparent sightings of the aged con-man.  Some say they've seen him on the outskirts of Sand Blast City, others say they've seen him working his trade with another individual down in the Southern Baronies, and some even say that he's still in Westopolis, working his craft, and sticking close to the headquarters of the East Side Pack, a noted rival of the Carnades.

[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Title: Irreverent Pt. 51 - Eye of a Hurricane

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~3K

Trigger Warning: Torture, Canon Typical Violence

A/N: I’m posting Chapters 51 and 52 at the same time. Make sure you read them in order. And if you haven’t read 50 (posted yesterday) definitely read that first. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

It's a sluggishly slow progression towards consciousness as you battle a heavy head and dazed mind, both serving only to deter coherent thought. Your awareness is comprised only of sensation – a cold and dark room, hard chair, your mouth was dry. As you attempt to move, you come to realize that your wrists are bound behind your back and your ankles are tied to the legs of a chair, while the same rough material was corded around your torso, keeping you tied and upright in the chair. What should have been a terrifying realization, was dulled by the presence of some drug you'd been injected with. It would account for all of the symptoms you're experiencing, especially how your mouth felt like it could compete with the Sahara for driest places known to man.

Your mind reels, attempting to piece together how you had come to be in your current predicament. You'd been awaiting Easter at your agreed upon spot for your check-in. You'd stood with your back to the wall, aware of your surroundings. It had been a complete ambush, a gun from nowhere pressed to the side of your head, three large men, all armed, as they forced you into an alley way. They'd been able to get the jump on you as you were severely outnumbered. The last thing you can recall with any degree of clarity is the sharp sting of a needle, pressed to the side of your neck. It would explain quite a bit about how you're feeling at the moment.

Blinking slowly, carefully, you allow your sensitive eyes to adjust to the dim yellow lighting of the room. Keeping your head tilted downwards still, you take in the concrete grey flooring and walls. You focus on taking in as much as you can without alerting your captors to the fact that you're awake. That would immediately tip the scales in their favor.

There is a stale smell lingering in the room, as though from a lack of use. Dust is collecting in the crevices. It's not cared for. Likely a spare room or basement. There are no windows as far as you're able to tell. Behind you, there is a clock that ticks, the sound of it echoing loudly in the quiet of the room.

How long had you been there?

Cautiously lifting your head, you appraise the room you're in. There, in front of you about three feet away, is a table with what looked like various weapons on it. From your position, you can make out knives, a baseball bat, what appears to be a taser, and what could be a fire poker.

You had to get out.

Your bindings have no give, you quickly learn. You couldn't wriggle out of them if you tried.

If you move quickly, you could inch your way towards the table. You might be able to bend down and grab one of the knives with your mouth and use it – somehow – to cut the rope or at least loosen it enough to be able to escape. After you've accomplished that, you'd have to get out of wherever you were being held.

Figuring out why you'd been taken in the first place would have to wait.

You clench, tensing your body and using the leverage of your feet pressed to the floor to jump up and forward in the chair, attempting to drag it forward with you, in the direction of the table. It moves about an inch or two.

With a frustrated sigh, you tense once more, preparing to repeat the action. Just as the balls of your feet have pressed into the ground, there's a clicking sound from behind you and you can hear the door opening. You freeze in place. You should've known they were watching.

Heavy footsteps reverberate against the concrete flooring while you refuse to turn around. Let them come and face you themselves.

"Good, you're awake." The deep voice carries with it a shot of dread that you hadn't quite felt yet since you'd awoken. It cuts through the dullness of feeling and thought, jumpstarting the dormant panic into full gear.

A large man with dark hair and crystal light eyes stands before you, blocking your pathway towards the table you had been inching your way towards. He's dressed casually in dark clothing, there's a scar running down his neck. In his hands is a gun, held almost casually, as though it were merely an afterthought. As though he's quite confident in his ability to over power you without it.

You watch apprehensively, body tensed up, as he leans one hip against the table, perching on it lightly. His cold, steely eyes pore into you, running over your body and taking in your state. His gaze feels predatory as it runs over you in the worst of ways, causing a chill to run down your spine. He watches you as though you're prey and he's a hunter – the kind that collects trophies to hang up above the mantle. He lingers on your eyes, and you can tell he's checking to see if you're still drugged or if you were fully capable now.

You remain quiet, waiting for him to speak first, the two of you locked in and staring at one another. You don't know why you're here, why they took you. You surely don't recognize him. Behind him, you can see a dark glass pane that you hadn't noticed before, beyond which you assume his partners wait, watching both you and him.

"I am going to ask you questions," he says evenly, breaking the silence once more, his eyes boring into yours. "Every time you don't answer or you lie to me, you will regret it. Am I clear?" His voice, low and dark, matches the tone of the room. It's not exactly threatening, more clinical in a way. It's like he's playing a part, doing a job. Like you're his last patient of the day and he's eager to get home early and catch the game. You want to say his heart isn't quite in it, but that wasn't right either. It's more so that he has better things to do than waste his time with you, and yet here is.

You don't acknowledge or answer his question asking if you'd understood, and you can tell he doesn't like to be ignored. His brow furrows ever so slightly, nostrils flaring as he mutters low under his breath, turning and placing the gun on the table behind him. He sets it down and then turns back towards you and you can see he'd grabbed something from the table. Brass knuckles by the looks of it, as he slides them on, flexing his large muscular hands as he does. It's meant to intimidate you, scare you. It does its job.

You take a deep breath, still watching him quietly as you mentally reassure yourself that it would all be alright. That Clyde would of course be looking for you. He'd know you were missing when you hadn't been there waiting for him. He would find you and rescue you from whatever this was. Until then, you had only one job: survival. They wouldn't break you.

He strides forward until he's right up against you, his knees brushing against yours. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, feel the coarse denim of his jeans against your bare knees. The dress that you'd been wearing undercover is bunched up underneath your thighs.

You look up at him defiantly as he stands before you in silence, as though still waiting for you to speak. You wouldn't. You needed to know how much they knew first. He asks for your name first and you provide him with the fake name on the ID in your bag. That earns you a quick, sharp jab to the side that has you keeling over and grunting in pain as the hard metal ridges of the brass knuckles connects with your ribcage. You try to absorb the hit, try to remember everything you've learned from sparring with both Derek and Clyde. Try to stifle your pained groan.

You take a breath and look back at him, ignoring the bruised and burning pain in your side. If you're not mistaken, there's a chance he just cracked a rib.

They know who you are.

The realization causes your panicked brain to go into overdrive as you sift through who could possibly want to use you to get to any information. What they would do with it.

He asks next about Project Atlantis. He asks who else has access to the list. Who else is on the list. How to gain access to it.

Every lie you tell, every time you stay silent, he rewards you with another hit. Another part of your body bruised and broken as he goes through a litany of questions, marking you up as he goes. The tears slip unwanted. The cries come out despite any attempt to not give him the satisfaction.

Where the hell was Clyde?!

Each time, you force yourself to look back at him. To let him know that he hasn't beat you. To let him know that it wouldn't be so easy. To challenge him to do worse.

He does.

Your body becomes a work of art, painted with the red of your blood, the deep purple bruising of your skin. The colors meld and blend together with the salt of your tears.

It hurts to breathe. He's bruised a couple of ribs and shallow breaths are all you can manage through the excruciating pain of drawing a single breath in properly. If he doesn't stop soon, you'll start to hyperventilate. You can't do that. You can't let him win that way. You blink through the tears welled up in your eyes. You couldn't stop those if you tried. It hurts. It all hurts too much.

There is no escape from the constant barrage of questions and from the assault that follows. In the back of your mind there lingers a silent, crying hope that Clyde is out there looking for you but that is it. Otherwise it's all you can do to remain present and conscious to resist simply giving him what he wants in exchange for a respite.

After a certain point, the pain wasn't even really pain anymore. It was as though your body knew, that in order to survive, it had to shield you from feeling the full thrust of all that he had inflicted on you. It knew that if you were to stand a chance, you had to not feel it. The numbness settles in through a haze as your mind goes cloudy once more. You're barely meeting his eyes anymore, try as you might. Your body strains and struggles to stay aware. In the brief moments of respite that he offers you, as he changes from the brass knuckles to the poker, you can't even bring it in yourself to fear what's coming next.

Your mind flits to Aaron. The last time you'd seen him, as you kissed him goodbye and walked out to the waiting cab. He wouldn't know to worry. He'd think you were busy with work. He'd think that you'd return his calls soon enough. He'd think you were alright.

Thinking of him and Jack is the only thing that has you even trying to lift your head once more. Keeps you coming back each time. Keeps you looking your captor in the eye.

You had to make it through. You had to keep bouncing back. You had to endure and persist.

For them.

For him.

Not again.

They can't go through that again.

It's that thought that has you lifting your head, meeting those stony grey eyes once more.

*------------*

Emily would want the Birkins.

That was the first coherent thought that came to mind when you'd become conscious once more. He'd stopped once you'd become unresponsive.

Thoughts of escaping had long since abandoned you. It would be pointless. You were entirely unmatched. Even if you could defeat them, you'd first have to stand, and you're not entirely sure that's a feat you're capable of any longer. Keeping your eyes open was far too difficult a task on its own.

Your mind behaves oddly. Thoughts fleetingly temporary and confused as you contend with the notion that you might not escape. That you might die here.

Aaron would have to pick an outfit for the funeral. He'd have to go to your closet and pick out something to wear for you to be buried in.

Jack would need a new suit.

The bike – that should go to John.

The house was Aaron's.

The rest was Jack's.

There was no one else.

Would he get a body? Or would he bury an empty coffin with your name on the headstone?

If he knew what you were thinking – how you were thinking – he'd be furious.

You're next woken with a jolt as two pairs of uncaring and callous hands work together to lift you up. You thrash and scream, your voice horrifically hoarse as you feel them place you down on the table you'd noticed off to the side earlier. Thick, rough, leather restraints bind you down and hold you to the table.

You can't move. Try as you might, you can't get out.

He asks you again, giving you a final chance. Your stomach coils in fear and panic as tears well in your eyes and stream down your cheeks anew.

You beg them to not do this. You beg them to let you go. I have a son, please. I have son! Please let me go. Please don’t –

You know what's coming next.

His frosty, pale eyes are the last thing you see before a coarse rag covers your face. You prepare yourself. Remind yourself that you won't die. Not like this.

You'll be alright. You'll be alright. You'll be al –

The first onslaught of harsh, cold water beating down on your head has the force of a current rippling through your veins.

You can't breathe.

There's a warbled scream that shouts out and it takes you far too long to realize it was your own.

Your heart is beating faster than ever as the unrelenting assault continues. Blood pounding in your head as you thrash about as much as possible.

Frigid water fills your nose, your throat, leaving you gasping for air.

Your fingers claw at the table, catching splinters of wood in the nailbed.

Your head feels full as though it's floating in the ocean during a storm.

Gasping and screaming when you could manage it, lungs drowning underneath the punishing weight as it rained down upon you, your body fighting against the riptide.

It went on and it went on.

Unrelenting.

Neverending.

Right at the precipice – when your screams were silent, your limbs motionless, the cruel waves kept drowning you underneath the tide  – right as you became certain of one thing and one thing only: this was the end. Just as you arrived at that conclusion – it all went away. Dissipated into thin air.

You were floating into a fog, light as could be.

The dulcet tones of singing children at Jack's spring recital, as he waves at you from the stage.

The team at Karaoke night, drunk as can be, singing out of sync.

The rooftop in Ibiza, legs dangling as you sat between John and Julian, a bottle passed between the three of you.

Ricky picking you up at midnight, watching the sun rise over the sea with the boys huddled around you.

Aaron in the kitchen, his beautiful voice humming along to the music.

Aaron on the plane next to you, his hand held tightly in yours.

Aaron peacefully asleep beside you, his chest rising and falling, the richness of his warmth enveloping you entirely.

His face was the last thing you saw.

[woah-were-halfway-there]

The Sweetest of Them All

A/N: just another little bonus part of the AFTR universe that I came up with out of nowhere. Also, I left this as third person instead of second. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3.2k

Y/N has never been a big fan of Valentine's Day.

To her, it was overrated and expensive. But, she'd be lying if she said she didn't love the fact that it gave an extra reason to love on Auston a ridiculous amount. Sure, she did that every day, but to be fair, she loved how the title of Valentine's Day added a bit more fun and excitement to something she'd normally do any other day. It felt different for some reason, so even though she didn't love the so-called holiday, she still tried to plan something special for it every year.

Admittedly, she and Auston almost got competitive about it with trying to one-up the other with affection. They didn't care about gifts. They cared about the time they spent together and the thoughtfulness behind it.

Usually, it was Y/N that came up with something ridiculously sweet for Valentine's Day to do for Auston. However, this year, he had her beat.

For some odd reason, Y/N woke up very early that day. Maybe it was the baby waking her, or perhaps it was her internal clock saying sleep was no longer necessary. But, regardless, she was awake much earlier than usual. She also knew Mia wasn't awake or else she would've heard her, so she took that time to lie back in bed and relax for a few minutes on her own.

The bed felt incredibly empty, given that Auston was with the Leafs in Washington and wasn't expected to be back in Toronto until late that night. Frank was a good cuddle buddy alternative, but sometimes the Goldendoodle just wasn't enough when Y/N was missing her man. Of course, this was one of the days when she missed him a lot, so she took that as an excuse to text Auston and at least get this so-called holiday kicked off.

Y/N Happy Valentine's Day, Aus 🥰 can't wait to see you tonight

She wasn't expecting him to message back right away, seeing as it was only 7:30 in the morning, but much to her surprise, he did.

Auston Happy Valentine's Day, babe 💕 Can't wait to see you either. Did the flowers for Mia get delivered?

Y/N Yes, they got here last night. They're beautiful. I set them on the kitchen counter, so once she's awake and we go downstairs, she'll see her little V-Day gift from you

Auston Perfect. I got part of your Valentine's thing with me right now too. Ready for it?

Y/N Is it going to make me cry?

Auston Probably

Y/N Great. Hit me with your best shot

She stared at her phone screen for a moment, expecting it to light up with the notification of an incoming FaceTime call from her husband or a picture, but instead, he sent her a link. But not just any link, it was the link to the video recording of a new Spittin' Chiclets podcast episode that was over an hour-long called 'Love Day: Part One.'

Confused, but also insanely curious, Y/N then leaned over to grab her laptop from the bedside table and got into the most comfortable position her growing baby bump would allow so she could watch the video like that. As soon as she was about to press play, her phone buzzed with another text.

Auston This was filmed a couple of weeks ago when the Chiclets guys were in Toronto. They interviewed at least 10 different guys in the league at different times, and they're kind of long, which is why there's more than one part. Just watch the intro, then I'm the first interview. Mitch is on part 2 if you want to watch that as well, but yeah... call me when you're done 💕

Still unsure of how to process what was going on, Y/N just shook her head and followed the link.

The video started with Biz, Whit and Rear sat all-around a table, each wearing a different red, white or pink shirt with heart-shaped balloons positioned behind them. Empty bottles of Pink Whitney sat on the table, acting as vases for bouquets of roses, making Y/N roll her eyes and chuckle at how far these guys would go for good product placement. But, she kept watching, and unsurprisingly, Biz was the first to speak.

Biz: "For Valentines Day this year, we wanted to do something different. Something more soft. So, we're going to tell, well, I guess, show some love stories."

Whit: "Bet you all didn't know that some of the greatest love stories to ever be told have happened to some of the guys that play in the NHL. Don't believe me? Guess you'll have to listen to find out what they are."

Rear: "We asked some players to come in and talk to us about their relationship stories and give as many details as they were willing to give. And let me tell you, they were great. To start us off, we have Auston Matthews of the Toronto Maple Leafs telling us his fairytale romance."

The video then clipped to a shot of Biz sitting next to Auston in what Y/N assumed was the hotel downtown that the Chiclets guys were staying at. Auston wasn't dressed extravagantly or anything, just wore a grey hoodie, black pants, and his signature Raiders snapback.

Y/N immediately recognized his outfit. She remembered Auston coming home in those same clothes early one afternoon after he did some running around downtown with Mia, and started thinking of how not once did he mention doing anything for the podcast. He kept this very on the down low, and Y/N was excited to see how it would all play out.

Biz: "Alright, with us today, we have none other than the Leafs number 34, Auston Matthews. Welcome back to the show, Auston. How ya doin?"

Auston: "I'm great. Thanks for having me. How are you guys?"

Whit and Rear: "Good."

Biz: "Great, real good. Now, Auston, you know what you're here to talk about, right?"

Auston: (chuckling) "You're acting like you didn't spend the last week blowing up my phone until I agreed to do this."

Biz: "Amazing! You do know. So, here's how it's all going to go down. We've got a list of questions about your relationship with your significant other. Your obvious better half. And are going to take turns asking them so the people listening at home can get a bit of insight on your, and I quote, iconic love story. Why don't you give us a little summary of your relationship before we dive in?"

Auston: (hesitantly) "Sure, okay. So, my wife Y/N and I have been married for almost two years now. Our anniversary is at the end of July. She accidentally forgot it last year, which I haven't let her live down. Y/N, babe, this is your six month in advance warning that our anniversary is indeed coming up again this year… She's going to hate that I mentioned that. We, uh, we've been together since my first season in Toronto, so for a pretty long time now, and it's been amazing. We have a daughter, Amelia, but everyone just calls her Mia unless she's in trouble. She just turned two on January 25th, and we have our second baby on the way. They're due to be making their grand appearance in late June. We also have our firstborn, Frank, the Goldendoodle. Can't forget about him. But, yeah, that's my little family."

Whit: (nodding along with Biz and Rear) "Fair enough. Now, how and when did you and Y/N meet exactly?"

Auston: "We met on the night of my first NHL game back in 2016. She was at that game."

Biz: "Oh, yeah? Was she there for a reason?"

Auston gave him an unimpressed look.

Biz: "What?"

Auston: "You know why she was there!"

Biz: (shrugging) "Our listeners don't. C'mon, refresh my memory. Was she there to cheer someone else on?"

Auston: (shaking his head) "Yeah. She, uh, she's a cousin of one of my teammates, so she was there with their family to watch him during our first game."

Biz: (grinning widely) "What teammate?"

Auston: "The one out in the hallway keeping my daughter occupied while you keep being annoying and asking me questions you already know the answer to."

Everyone laughed at that, including Y/N, as she shifted onto her side, being mindful of her growing bump that seemingly became more noticeable each day, and got comfortable as she braced herself for what the rest of this interview would entail.

Biz: (still laughing): "Just to clarify for everyone who still doesn't know, he's talking about Mitch Marner."

Auston: "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."

Rear: "I take it that Mitch and Mia get along really well? I haven't heard a peep from her since you came in here."

Auston: "Oh, she loves him. Yeah, that's her Mitchy, alright. Him and Steph, who you will hear all about once Mitch comes in here, are Mia's godparents and some of her favourite people."

Whit: "That's awesome. And how was that at first, though, being romantically involved with one of your teammates' family members? Sounds like grounds for some chaos, if I'm honest."

Auston: "It sure made meeting the family a bit more nerve-wracking. I'm just kidding. No, it was fine. It was definitely a little awkward at first trying to figure out how I was going to tell Mitch that I wanted to date his cousin. Like, he and Y/N are very close. Always have been. And the last thing both me and Y/N wanted was for Mitch to be uncomfortable. He did handle it really well, though. It's because of him I was even able to get to know her in the first place, which I'll never be able to thank him enough for."

Rear: "Now, you're a pretty private guy. You post the odd picture of your little family from time to time. Y/N is rather private, as well. So, really, no one knows your guys' story other than those who have lived it with you or watched it unfold. I'm sure many people will jump right on the chance to listen to this, seeing as you and Y/N are one of the most beloved couples in the NHL. But, what exactly made you want to come on here, give a bit of insight into your private life, and talk about it all?"

Auston: "Well, for one, Biz would not stop asking me to do it. Literally kept calling and texting me for days until I finally agreed."

Whit: "Shocker."

Biz: "Hey, now."

Auston: (chuckling) "That and also I figured, why not. I love my wife, and I love our little story. It's nice to think back on everything that's happened and see how it all got us to where we are now. With all the ups and the downs, its uh, it's been an amazing ride for sure, and I wouldn't change it for a thing. Also, it's for Valentine's Day. I haven't told her I'm doing this, so when you guys drop the episode, I'm just going to send it to her without much context."

Whit: "Do you think she'll cry?"

Auston: "Absolutely. I know this kind of thing would make her tear up regularly, but those pregnancy hormones have got her bad. Without a doubt, she's going to call me crying once she's done watching this."

Y/N scoffed as he said that and grabbed some tissues to wipe away the waterworks she already felt coming on.

Biz: "I've met Y/N many times now. The first time being back in what, 2018?"

The screen then showed an old picture of Biz sitting in a restaurant with his arm wrapped around Y/N's shoulders, both smiling widely as they held up their drinks, with Auston seemingly moping off to the side a little bit. Y/N chuckled at the image, instantly thinking back to the day she first met Paul Bissonnette and how wild it was before the photo faded away and showed the guys again.

Biz: "Yeah, it was when she was in Scottsdale visiting you during the summer. Great girl, completely out of Auston's league."

Auston: "Hey!"

Biz: "I'll never forget you sassing her when she commented on how hot Arizona was, with her being Canadian and all, but damn she was fast putting you in your place by calling you a, what was it?"

Auston: (grumbling) "Desert Boy."

Everyone burst out laughing again, except Auston, who just rolled his eyes and sighed dramatically.

Auston: "Whatever. She sasses me all the time when I complain about the snow, but the one time I do it back, I get called a Desert Boy and can never live it down."

Biz: (still laughing) "Ugh, amazing. Okay, moving on because we don't have much time and can probably fit in like two more questions. So, Auston, tell us how you knew that Y/N was the end game for you. How did you know that she was the one?"

Auston: "Oh, man. I don't even know how to explain it. Growing up, you see all these movies and shows, or read books where people always find someone who is their soulmate. Their perfect match. And I never knew what the feeling of finding that person was because I had never experienced it. My mom would tell me that when I did find that person, I'd know. That it'll be such an intense feeling, and to be honest, I didn't believe her. Until I met Y/N, I know that sounds cheesy, but it's true. The first time I met her, something drew me in, and I knew I wanted to get to know her better right away. Mitch spoke so highly of her, so did the other guys on the team that had already met her and over the first couple of months of us knowing each other, I saw what they meant. She quickly became one of my best friends ever. When we started dating, I saw more of how good a person she is, which attracted me even more. She is so selfless and caring for everyone around her; it truly blows my mind. I had never seen my family welcome a girl I introduced them to as quickly as they did her, and I trust their judgment the most. But even if they didn't do that, I know they would have accepted her regardless because, honestly, I probably seemed like a lovesick idiot. I still do. Y/N became this significant light in my life that I knew I wanted to be there forever. I began thinking about what it'd be like spending the rest of my life with her. Then it became something that I knew I needed. I can't imagine my life without her, and I never want to. She makes me so happy and has given me more than I could ever thank her for. I'll never understand how I, of all people, was the one to capture her massive heart, but I do know how lucky I am."

As he spoke, the screen showed a little picture slideshow of Y/N and Auston over the years of their relationship. It started with one that Ema took the first time Y/N had ever gone to Scottsdale. Y/N was sitting on the edge of a pool, and her legs dipped into the water. Auston stood between them as he wrapped his arms around her middle and leaned against her while looking over at where Ema stood taking the picture. The next one was from a Christmas party where the two were under a mistletoe as Auston leaned Y/N back and was kissing her cheek as she laughed and held onto him for dear life. There was a picture of them with Auston's family, one of them with Mitch and Steph, and another of Auston with his arms around Nate and Mya, Y/N's younger brother and sister, as the three smiled at the camera and Y/N was in the background looking confused.

The last few pictures were a bit more recent. They showed Y/N holding Frank as a puppy, a maternity photo of her and Auston posing when she was pregnant with Mia, and one of them on their wedding day with Mia and the rest of the gang. Then, the slideshow concluded with a very recent picture of them taken just a couple of weeks prior at Mia's birthday party, where Auston has his arms wrapped around Y/N from the back, showcasing her growing belly. At the same time, she leaned against him and glanced over her shoulder at him lovingly. The photos then went away and showed the guys again as Auston finished speaking.

Auston was right. Y/N was full-on bawling by that point.

All the guys were smiling as Auston finished saying his thing, but were soon interrupted by a knocking noise followed by a door opening.

Mitch: (offscreen) "Wait, no! Don't let her in!"

Mia: (also offscreen) "Daddy!"

Mia then came into the frame as she ran towards Auston, not caring about what was going on or who was there. Auston was quick reacting as he smiled widely and scooped Mia right up into his arms, making sure to place multiple kisses on her cheek as she giggled and squirmed in his hold, while Mitch became visible too and shrugged.

Auston: "Hi, mini. I missed you. Did you have fun with Mitchy?"

Mia: "Yeah! Where's mommy, daddy?"

Auston: "She's at home, baby girl. I'm almost done, then we can go get a Timbit while we wait for Mitch to be done. Sounds good?"

Mia: (knuckling at her eyes, tiredly) "Mhmm."

Rear: "This is adorable."

Biz: "Hi, Mia."

Mia: (shyly while hiding against Auston's chest a bit) "Hi, Biz."

Whit: (laughing) "Okay, I think we've kept you long enough now, Auston. Is there anything else you and Mia would like to say to Y/N?"

Auston: "Yes. Happy Valentine's Day, babe. I love you so much, and I'm sorry I'm not there right now. You're going to hear a lot more from me on actual Valentine's Day, but for right now, I think that's just about it. Mia, can you blow a kiss to the camera so mommy can see it and say 'happy Love Day!'"

Mia: (blows the kiss) "Happy Love Day, mommy!"

Auston: "Can you tell her that you love her?"

Mia: "Love you!"

Auston and Mia then waved to the camera and said bye as the clip faded out, and a new interview of another NHLer began playing.

Y/N's heart felt so full. She couldn't stop crying over how much she loved her family and how badly she needed to hear something like that. Life had been particularly hard on her as of late and seemed to keep throwing her curveballs, but this, this was exactly what she needed. To be reminded of how loved she is and that she genuinely is never alone.

She then grabbed her phone to call Auston and remind him of how much she loved him, that day and every day. The two talked for a few minutes before Y/N was pretty sure she could hear Mia waking up. After saying their goodbyes, Y/N found herself thinking about how, regardless of how she feels about the actual day, this was a Valentine's Day she will never forget.

[trashbunnywrites]

Little magician in training

Just realized I never posted it here so here it is

Reminder requests are still open.

Had help from the amazing @amazing-fandoms thank you queen.

It was a slow night. The many empty seats , low murmurs , and few faces weren't the usual. Your circus while it wasn't the best, it was quite popular. Everyone worked hard and practiced new tricks and moves.

When you got on stage and looked at the people , you noticed how there's 20 at most in the empty seats. Doesn't this town crave any entertainment ? Most you've been through ended up with a large crown in the week you've stayed there. Guess you all will have to move on to the next one faster this time.

You're a magician and a pretty good one at that. Teaching yourself the tricks and following the footsteps of the previous magician made you this way. As a child, you admired your teacher a lot and wanted to learn even more. Making you even better than him as you always seeked more knowledge.

Your eyes met with a yellow curious childish ones. He was watching you intensely probably trying to figure out your tricks. The boy looks pretty poor because of his ripped dirty clothes and messy look. You felt him tense up as you watched him prepare to flee. So he sneaked his way in ? That wasn't exactly easy and done by a child ? That's impressive.

Smiling to the child as you pointed to him.

"Would you like to volunteer for my next trick ?"

His eyes lit up as he nodded and approached you. You showed him a deck of cards and asked him to pick one. This was always an audience pleaser even though it had such a simple trick to it. Guessing the card wasn't hard at all as you knew what card was right above it even if you shuffled the deck.

He looked impressed as the small audience clapped for you. You loved card tricks because they were simple yet many find very fascinating. They didn't need fancy equipment like most of your other tricks but hey , that's what nen is for right ?

Your flame breather colleague was next as you left to your trailer. Still feeling incredibly disappointed at the small number of people who showed up. Was this town that poor ? Or your circus wasn't interesting enough ?

Feeling a presence behind you , you immediately prepared your card as you turned around. The melted golden eyes met yours. What a sneaky child.

"So you're not satisfied with sneaking into the show , you had to sneak into my room ?"

His eyes shone at your words "why didn't you say anything when you knew I snuck into the show ?"

Giggling at his bravery instead of apologizing and running off scared "because I used to do that when I was your age"

He approached somewhat gaining confidence "how did you do it ?"

"A magician never reveals his tricks. Where are your parents anyway ? Aren't they worried you're out ?"

"I don't have any , what do I have to do for you to teach me ?"

He asked extremely seriously as he brushed off being an orphan in a nonchalant manner. Who is this kid ? Sighing you got up and grabbed something from your drawer.

"Gum ?"

You asked, extending your hand. You always chewed gum when thinking as it helped you clear your mind. He looked at it then grabbed one satisfied to see you chewing on it.

"If I talked to the chief for you to be my apprentice , you have to follow my orders, do you understand me ?"

"I can't make any promises ~"

He said in a cheeky tone as you laughed. This kid reminds you too much of your old self , how could you say no to him ?

_____

Taking hisoka - the boy's name - as your apprentice angered the other performers. While he was in fact a fast learner , he learned everyone tricks from merely watching.

Everyone who used to practice together stopped and started doing it in secret. For him to be cut off like that angered you. He's just a kid. Why is everyone acting like he's going to steal their jobs ?

While he tended to prank everyone and somehow never get caught even though you all knew it was him , you started teaching him everything slowly. It probably what caused him to act out as he learned fast he got bored.

Refusing to teach him everything at once , he performs as your assistance. Having an adorable sidekick made people cheer more for your performance.

Leaving with hisoka in hand as you both chewed your favorite gum , you heard a loud groan of pain. Looking back , the juggler slipped on his way to the stage out of nowhere as he held his foot and yelled.

"you little monster ! How dare you put oil on the stage before my turn !"

You heard hisoka giggling under you as you went to his side "it can't be him , we walked out together just now ! Show me your leg"

His hand roughly pushed you away as he started cussing you for taking that demon child side while the others gathered around. He can't juggle with a twisted ankle but the people are waiting for one.

"I know most of his routine so I can fill for him ~"

The sudden incredibly sweet voice of hisoka interrupted the discussion going on over how they'll handle this. Feeling everyone venomous stares at him you stood in front of him. The director however smiled brightly agreeing over the idea. People are getting restless and changing the routine out of nowhere would anger them.

Hisoka smiled smugly looking at the people glaring at him as he headed to do his first performance.

_____

The juggler left the circus soon after , there was shards of glass on his coffee that he swore hisoka put in , but you and hisoka were out training in the town over. He got hurt badly and left the circus.

Everyone was cautious of hisoka but the fact that he wasn't even around made them not kick him out for it. No one knows how the glass got to the coffee cup till this day.

Hisoka took over the juggler as he seemed so happy of the news it creeped everyone out - including you -. You're the person who spent the most time with him so you wanted to see his good side. You really did.

Teaching him the last trick you know , you saw his face fall when you told there's nothing more to learn.

"Sorry buddy , this is everything I know. I'm working on new tricks but those will be for me alone."

He looked at you frowning "I guess I'll have to come up with my own tricks then."

He said as he calmly walked outside "I'm not coming back. if that juggler ever comes back , tell him talking to a lady and pushing her down like that is what put the glass in his coffee ~"

Your eyes widened as you watched his small frame leaving. Was he the one who did this ?

"Also , I will learn how to control the aura around me like you do one day and I'll be a better magician than you. That's a promise ~"