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beepboopkek · 5 months ago

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— Hidden Surprises (F!Reader)

Including: Kamisato Ayato x AFAB!Reader amab version has been posted on both tumblr and ao3 cw: !! NSFW !!, afab!reader, established relationship, bottom!sub!reader, top!dom!ayato, fluff and smut, pwp but barely, smacking (paddle), lots of teasing/flirting/kissing, mirror s3x, cursing, d1rty talk, like one sentence of n1pple play, cl1t smacks (only a few), slight dom/sub undertones, implied dom drop from ayato, mayb a little unrealistic s3x idk, AFTERCARE!!!! w/c: approx 2.8k words, might change since i make edits while posting a/n: after 8 goddamn drafts of this fic i managed to finally finish it,, im like at a 50/50 opinion on this but honestly i jsu wanted to get the brainrot out of my system... sorry for the long absence :sob:.. also i tried changing up my writing style a little, id love any form of feedback so feel free to leave a comment :D NSFW BELOW THE CUT

The evening air was crisp as you gently swirled the Sake in your cup, eyeing your husband over the rim as he sat beside you. The Yashiro Commissioner was poised and perfect as always— his hair neatly tied over his shoulder with a ribbon that matched his usual outfit. Your gaze travelled the expanse of his torso, unconsciously lingering on his hands as he kept them folded on the table. “You've been staring for a while.” Ayato’s voice broke you out of your thoughts as your eyes met his violet ones and you smiled.

“Oh, don't mind me. I’m simply admiring the view.” Your voice had a teasing lilt as you replied, still boring your eyes into his as you took another sip of your drink.

Ayato simply raised a brow at you, before moving his curious gaze to the half-empty bottle of Sake left beside you— immediately bringing out a hand to drag the bottle away from your reach.

“Hey! I was drinking that—!” You tried to snatch back the bottle like a cat that got its toy taken away but unfortunately for you, Ayato was too fast.

“Oh, I know.” Your husband only infuriatingly smiled back at you, relishing in the adorable pout on your face as you folded your arms in annoyance.

“I apologise, I want you to be somewhat sober tonight.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest, and giving him an offended look.

“I am sober! I only had two glasses.”

“Mhmm. Whatever you say.”

“Why do you need me to be sober anyway?”

Ayato leaned towards you, resting his hand on a closed palm. He tilted his head and looked at you with nothing short of pure adoration before saying, “I have a surprise for you.”

This time, it was your turn to raise an eyebrow at him. You mimicked his position (albeit with less elegance) as you tried to make the mental calculations to discern what this “surprise” could be.

Ayato and the word “surprise” never really mixed well for you. The last time he had a "surprise," it involved a strange hotpot that left you feeling queasy for days.

Ah.

Bingo.

“If it's another one of your horrible food concoctions, count me out.”

Ayato chuckled, a wide smile spreading across his face as he shook his head lightly. “Hehe, not to worry, dear. It's something you'll like.”

You would never admit it, but the two glasses of Sake did, in fact, put your mind in a pleasant buzz. You were never a good drinker to begin with so maybe it was good that your husband had confiscated your wine before you went overboard.

Well, that certainly wasn't going to stop you from teasing him, though.

You gave Ayato a languid gaze as you reached out a hand to twirl soft baby blue strands between your fingers, feeling his eyes on you as you brought his hair towards your lips, leaning in to give the strands a chaste kiss. You could feel Ayato’s breath hitch at the blatant display of public affection, which you didn't do very often.

“ … Tell me what it is then.”

Ayato recovered quickly, pulling back his face of smug satisfaction as he smiled.

“Well, it wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would it?”

You pouted at him again and he only chuckled in response, giving you a coy smile.

Two can play that game.

You surveyed your surroundings before deducing that no one would catch you and a mischievous smile coiled on your face as you observed your husband suddenly stuck in conversation with someone seated in front of the two of you.

You quietly praised each archon for giving you this golden opportunity as the perfect distraction appeared without any effort on your part.

You reached out to place your hand on his knee under the table, pretending to swirl the non-existent wine in your cup with the other so that no one would suspect a thing.

Ayato's eyes flickered to yours for a split second before continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.

You smiled to yourself as you began to stroke the inside of his thigh with your thumb, inching your hand higher and higher.

He'd never admit it, but you could feel the way his leg shook ever so slightly at the intimate contact.

You kept your hand stationed there for the short duration of the commissioner’s conversation, cheekily observing the light dust of red that had covered the high rise of his cheeks (which he would later blame on the alcohol).

You're broken out of your giddy stupor when you feel a larger hand on yours, stopping all motion as he gripped your hand tightly before passing you a faux smile and turning back to excuse the two of you.

Rascal.

“I apologise, my wife seems to be getting tired.”

You looked at the guest and gave him an apologetic smile although you were anything but that.

The both of you quickly bid your goodbyes to more guests as you made your way out, your husband almost dragging you by the hand.

While the Yashiro Commissioner looked just about normal to everyone, you could see the impatient jitter in his steps, the flush down his neck and the slightly hurried hush in his voice as he navigated the two of you through the crowd.

Right as you were about to board the carriage to make your way back up to the Kamisato estate, Ayato pulled you against his chest to whisper into your ear—

“I'm going to ruin you tonight.”

…

Ayato kept a firm hand on your thigh the entire ride back, occasionally squeezing it while conversing with you as if nothing was happening.

As if he didn't make your entire body shudder with just a sentence.

As soon as the two of you entered the privacy of your shared room, Ayato covered your eyes with his hands and instructed you to keep them closed until he asked you to open them again while he helped you out of your outfit, both of you giggling at your unstable movements from being temporarily blinded.

Which landed you here, stark naked and seated on the edge of the bed waiting for your husband late into the night. Your eyes were screwed shut as he shuffled around the room before quietly helping you up and settling you on his lap— his slender hands squeezing around your body as he leaned in to nibble the shell of your ear. He moved his hands to your belly before dipping his hands in between and prying your legs apart with a gentle insistence that had you murmuring his name in half-hearted protest.

“Open your eyes.”

You did just that, adjusting to the sudden brightness as you took in the sight before you.

A large rectangular mirror with an ornate gold frame with the Kamisato crest on the top, set on the wall in front of your bed.

You observed your reflection in the mirror with shallow breaths, the golden lamps doused the room in a soft glow as you shivered, your husband's hands still placed between your thighs, keeping them apart.

Archons.

Your eyes met Ayato's observant gaze in the mirror as he spoke again, "Well, what do you think?"

“ … It's beautiful.”

Ayato smiled against your ear, kissing the side of your head affectionately.

“I knew you would like it.” Your breath hitched in embarrassment as your gaze travelled the entire expanse of the mirror, your ears burning with the overwhelming urge to hide. You could see every inch of your exposed body reflected at you, making your heart race.

“But, why—”

His hands remained steady on your thighs, grounding you as he squeezed them again and cut you off with a kiss to the side of your neck as he looked at you through the mirror. “I want you to see how mesmerising you look.”

His hands travelled along the outline of your torso as you waited for him to continue, “I want you to see what I see.” That's when his left hand reached back onto the bed, fumbling momentarily before he brought something forward. You glanced down, curiosity piqued, and saw that he held a— Oh.“I thought you’d be more romantic with your surprise.” A paddle. With a tiny heart cut out in the middle of it. “Well, I’ve always believed in doing things in a more unorthodox way.” The mischievous glint in his eye told you there was more to this. Ayato’s hand, which was still on your thigh, pulled it back a little further. He gently swept the paddle against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the polished wood providing a smooth glide. “The rules are simple,”

You tore your eyes from the mirror to glance to your side when he raised the paddle a little, striking down on your thigh. You jolted in surprise as you immediately felt his hand rub the irritated skin softly. “One, do not look away from the mirror.” Ayato’s finger traced the heart imprint left on your thigh as he continued, “— and two, do not close your eyes.” Ayato’s hands traced the outline of your body as he silently awaited your consent. The silence was that of comfort, you felt relaxed knowing you could opt out of this at any moment and your husband wouldn’t hold it against you. You smirked. “… Ruin me, Commissioner.” You felt a sharp exhale on your shoulder as Ayato’s hands moved with renewed purpose all over your body. You felt his hand creep towards your chest, fondling one side as he tweaked the nipple between his fingers, your low moans now filling the room. He latched his lips onto the column of your neck as he begrudgingly left your chest to trail his hand towards your clit. His other hand was still holding onto the paddle that rested against your thigh, unmoving and unfaltering in making its presence known. A wave of relief washed over you as his fingers made contact with your clit, your eyes closed in pure bliss as you moaned in pleasure, locking your hands behind his neck and— A smack to the inside of your thigh snapped your eyes right back open in shock. Oh. Right.“Eyes on the mirror.” You nodded fervently as Ayato went back to toying with your clit, drawing sticky sweet circles as his sharp gaze stayed glued to your body through the mirror. You glanced down to your thighs in the mirror to see a red imprint of the paddle on your skin and looked back up to meet Ayato’s heated gaze, a coy smirk playing into his voice as he spoke again. “Enjoy the show, dear.” Ayato slid his now wet middle and ring finger down, dipping the tips inside you as you shook in anticipation. His hand flexed as he moved his fingers deeper, lightly thrusting them in and out as he searched for your sensitive spots with experienced precision.

“All that bravado in the evening, where is it now?”

He ground his palm into your clit as he pushed his fingers to the knuckle— Your moans mingling with his heavy breaths. You pushed yourself back against his chest in hopes of alleviating some of the tension in his pants.

His voice was breathless as he spoke in your ear,

“Do you like it when I do this?” and he curled his fingers inside you, making you moan again.

Maybe it was the whole evening of teasing that got you to the cusp of an orgasm so soon but, it was quickly becoming too much. Ayato's skilled hands proved to be too deadly for you— making you close your eyes and lean your head back onto his shoulder as you moaned.

Smack!

Eyes opened wide, you jolted back up and your orgasm washed over you immediately as Ayato continued to pump his fingers in and out to help you ride it out.

“Fuck—”

You panted, struggling to keep your eyes open. Ayato stilled as his left hand let go of the paddle to grab your chin, forcing you to look sideways as he kissed you deeply.

Your lips parted with his as you both caught your breath— your husband gently removing his fingers from you and wiping them onto the cloth laid next to him.

Ayato moved you a little forward as he unzipped his pants, pulling his cock from underneath you so that it poked out between your soft thighs.

Archons, he could get used to this view.

He wanted to make you wait, wanted to edge you until you were begging for him, tears sticking to your clumped lashes as you pouted at him, whining and writhing in his hold as he kept your pleasure from you.

But he couldn't.

He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

He aligned himself with you, slowly pushing in as you both moaned in relief.

Ayato curled a hand around your waist to hold you in place as he set a rhythm of short and quick thrusts, latching his mouth onto your neck again as he bit down to stifle his moans.

“Ayato, please-”

A resonant smack to your sensitive nipple is all that you get in response as you immediately plaster your eyes back on the mirror.

— and archons was it a sight, your bodies were covered in a thin sheen of sweat as red-purple imprints of the paddle were littered across the expanse of your soft skin, little bruises blossoming on both sides of your neck, your hair stuck to your forehead as you writhed in your spot, aching to find release again.

The hand curled around your waist twisted downwards to play with your clit as you sighed in pure bliss before you abruptly felt his hand moving away and a series of smacks on your sensitive nerves.

Fuck. You didn't even notice you stopped looking at the mirror.

He unlatched himself from your neck, leaving deep imprints of his teeth as he raised his head to pull at your earlobe with his teeth.

“You know I don't like repeating myself.”

Tears clung to your eyes as your body buzzed through the different sensations of pain and pleasure, the thought of disappointing your husband sitting heavy in your throat as you swallowed down your complaints.

His pace grew erratic as you held onto him, heavy moans mingling with his silent ones as tears slipped from your eyes.

“Come with me.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as Ayato spoke into your ear. You barely registered the tip of the paddle hitting your clit again or how your husband pulled out just in time to finish on your lower back— your legs trembling as you clenched around nothing.

Holy shit.

Ayato detached himself from you, flipping you over so that you were laid flat on the bed on your stomach as you caught your breath. He took the washcloth he had set up earlier to clean you off a little before helping you up and lifting you to prepare a bath.

You were floating, you weren't sure how much time had passed when you came to but you were (yet again) seated in your husband’s lap as he gently massaged your stiff shoulders, waiting for you to regain your senses. “ … Hi.” You spoke as you turned your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss. “Hello.” You got up on shaking limbs, turning your body over so that you were straddling his legs. Ayato looked at you questioningly, tilting his head. You simply kissed the mole under his lip as you replied, “I wanted to see your face.”

“Oh? Did you miss me?”

You kissed the tip of his nose this time, “Yes.”

He smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his gaze lingered on all the hickeys he had left, his face dropping a little.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. A little sore but I'll be fine.”

You leaned down to kiss the mole on his collarbone, lingering there to leave a love bite of your own.

There was a pause, you knew this was when he would start questioning himself.

“Was I—?”

Before he could finish his question, you captured his lips in a soft kiss, caressing the back of his head with your hands as you gently massage it.

“No. It was perfect. In every sense of the word, I enjoyed it.”

Ayato smiled at you again.

There was a comfortable silence after that, the both of you taking turns to wash out each other's hair and backs, sneaking small kisses in between as you giggled.

You dried each other off before your husband laid you down on the bed, procuring an ointment seemingly out of nowhere as he applied it to the bruises on your thighs.

You laid down on the soft sheets and felt the energy drain from your bones, giving Ayato one last peck on the lips before you drifted off to sleep.

“I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head lovingly, and if you were any more tired, you would've missed his response.

“I find myself falling for you more and more every single day. Goodnight, dear.”

#ayato smut #kamisato ayato smut #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #self insert x canon

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warlocksoup · 3 months ago

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haikyuu angstober

day two: shimizu kiyoko

art (in order): pomegranate photogroph by vlad loktev | love slowly kills by adrian borda

soundtrack: graceland too by pheobe bridgers

warnings: unviversity au, breakup, implied homophobia, disapproving family, unhealthy family dynamics

word count: 875

Kiyoko would do anything for her.

It was cloudy outside the day she rested her head in Kiyoko’s lap, hair splayed out against her jeans. Kiyoko’s dorm bed was cramped and uncomfortable, limbs tucked away and bent in awkward positions to accommodate them both. Kiyoko lost feeling in her left leg, and the tips of her fingers were like ice as she dragged them through the ends of her hair.

Her eyes kept fluttering shut, and then abruptly opening once she remembered that she had promised to stay awake. But Kiyoko didn’t mind; she had given up on paying attention to the film in favor of admiring her anyways.

“Kiyoko,” she said, thick and dumbstruck, eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m really in love with you.”

It’s different now. It’s sunnier, brighter, warmth drifting in through the slightly cracked window. They’re on opposite sides of the bed, legs crossed and not looking at each other.

Kiyoko folds her hands in her lap, looking down at her thumbs as they tap together. She wants to touch her. She wants to take her hands between her own and place kisses along the line of her jaw and hold her in her lap. But something ugly sits between them now, and she can’t even bring herself to lift her head.

“I think,” she starts, voice hoarse and raw, like she’s had this conversation with herself a million times over. “I think we should break up.”

At first, Kiyoko does nothing. She just sits there, warm breeze not reaching her. It starts to slip over her, a slick, heavy oil that drips down the center of her spine. Her limbs feel like lead. Her eyes start to burn. She inhales sharply. “Are you sure?” Kiyoko asks her, because she doesn’t want her to be.

But still, she nods. Kiyoko watches the movement from the corner of her eye. “Yeah.”

A tear drops from her eyes to her entwined fingers. Kiyoko tries to blink the rest of them away. “Why?”

She doesn’t say anything. The only thing Kiyoko can hear is concentrated breathing and slight sniffling. She feels herself getting tenser. “Please tell me why,” Kiyoko insists again, sharper this time.

Again, there’s nothing. No response or explanation or excuse, and it’s finally enough for Kiyoko to snap her head forward. She’s looking back at her, eyes watering and lip trembling, and Kiyoko knows. “It’s your parents, right?”

“It’s what’s best for me,” is the weak, half-hearted defense she offers.

It’s not surprising to hear it. Kiyoko has heard enough passing comments and half-told stories to get a good understanding of how her parents work without ever having to meet them. Kiyoko knows what they’re like from the way her posture changes when they’re mentioned, from way her expression flickers and shifts.

‘I don’t think they’re the type of people you’ll ever want to meet,’ she had told Kiyoko before, slipping her hand out of Kiyoko’s as they trudged along a busy sidewalk, pushing past the other people around them. ‘I’ll be happier once they’re out of my life.’

Kiyoko shakes her head. “No, it’s not. Don’t say that.”

“What do you want me to do?” she sobs lightly, tears spilling over now. “Pay for school myself? Pay for housing? How am I supposed to get through school without them?”

“With me,” Kiyoko answers, insistent now, leaning in towards her. “Get through it with me. I’ll help you. We can get a place together, and we’ll work, and it will suck, but we could do it. You don’t have to-“

“Kiyoko, please,” she cuts her off. “It wouldn’t work. You know it wouldn’t work. You’d spend all your time working, and your grades would drop, and you’d lose sleep and never be able to see your friends, and-and you’d resent me for it.”

Kiyoko shakes her head. “No I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t ever.”

“Even if you didn’t, I don’t want that for you! Constantly struggling and never having enough of what you need. Always being tired. Never having a second for yourself. You already have too much to handle, I can’t make you take on more.”

“So I just have to lose you instead.”

“It’s what’s best,” she repeats again.

“It’s not what’s best,” Kiyoko contests, “it’s what’s easiest. You’re just scared.”

Her words fall between them, sitting limply in the middle of the bed. And she lowers her head, like she’s staring at them. “Maybe,” she concedes. Kiyoko feels panic crawl up her throat as she unfolds her legs and slides off the edge of her bed. “But it doesn’t matter either way. It doesn’t change anything.”

“I really wish it did.” Kiyoko feels like she’s begging now, voice and body trembling, tears spilling over. She clenches her muscles and bites back the urge to beg her to hold her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “but please don’t contact me again.”

Kiyoko bites down on her bottom lip to hold back her sobs. She listens to her footsteps retreat, listens to the door open and gently close again. She counts to five after that, and then lets out a wail. Kiyoko’s arms go around her knees, and she pulls them up to her chest, rocking slightly.

Kiyoko would do anything for her.

taglist: @hiraethwa @lale-txt @kr1nqu @angee444 @psychedellyc @geektastic84 @solzscribblez @asrinchin @nyxlai @miiyas @wyrcan @chocolains @tsumuus @kameyyy @sirhamburrger @kenmaria @recordsndreams

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the-theatregal · 11 months ago

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SECRET TUNNEL! SECRET TUNNEL! THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS! SECRET SECRET SECRET SECRET TUNNEL!

I’m really liking Iroh and Aang’s conversations, I feel like it’s building a groundwork for Aang to trust Iroh, and eventually Zuko in the future.

Bumi is exactly how I pictured him, big hat, crazy dude. I love that he recognizes Aang right away and doesn’t make him do those weird tests. He’s asking the real questions “how are you still alive? And more importantly why are you still a child?” He’s nutty but he loves his friend and you see that.

But then he acts like he starts to doubt Aang, fair enough given it’s been 100 years. When Aang accuses him of not caring he gets mad and starts tricking him, playing “games.” He’s bitter and feels betrayed but Aang is still his friend, he didn’t mean to abandon the world and Bumi knows that, he just needs to be mad about it too.

My problem is that Bumi is almost painted as a villain, he’s trying to show Aang just how horrible and difficult the war has been but he almost kills them both and his innocent people in the attempt. Bumi has lived through the war in a way Aang can’t understand, he probably lost countless loved ones and has been sitting with that pain and grief for a century. Aang’s return brings it all back, but Aang also helps him start to heal from it.

I’ve always had mixed feelings about Jet, in the original too. He’s extreme, trying to take out a whole town to kill a couple soldiers, attempting regicide so he can stop a few spies. He’s traumatized obviously, angry and scared. He’s still just a kid.

Zuko having to chose between capturing the avatar and rescuing his Uncle is a beautiful moment, you see him struggle to choose between what he thinks is his destiny and the last member of his family who showed him any kindness. Him picking Iroh and finding the lotus tile as a clue, really a callback to how much of a madman Zuko is when it comes to finding people/things. Man found the avatar, his uncle, Appa, his honor, his mom, etc.

Iroh having to face his past being confronted by an earth kingdom soldier who accuses him of having no humanity, knowing nothing of loss, when we know his backstory. In the flashback, I can’t tell if Ozai is genuinely trying to comfort his brother over the loss of his only son but doesn’t really know how. Versus Zuko who is clearly still an awkward turtle duck and grieving his cousin, but still comforting his Uncle.

LEAVES FROM THE VINE, FALLING SO SLOW I’m sobbing my eyes out. All the musical callbacks to the original show are making me so happy.

Oma and Shu being lesbians???? YES I LOVE IT!!! GIVE ME MORE!!!

I always thought the tunnels could be about more than just romantic love. I’m glad they didn’t have Aang in them with Sokka and Katara because it means they can showcase familial love and its value rather than romantic. They haven’t really been showing much of Aang’s crush on Katara so it doesn’t make sense in the story for him to be with her in the tunnels anyway. Instead we can see Katara call Sokka out on some of his worse tendencies like his overprotectiveness and watch their sibling relationship grow.

The badger moles are the sweetest giant angry earthbending babies ever and no one can change my mind.

#avatar the last airbender netflix #avatar the last airbender #avatar aang #atla katara #atla sokka #uncle iroh #king bumi #prince zuko #secret tunnel

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mx-lamour · 1 year ago

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We finally saved Ezra's mom!!

Ezra and the party broke into Hazlik’s tower and planted a bomb. When they reached the top where Ezra’s mom was, Hazlik was there waiting for them. He was a monologuer, and he had many illusory duplicates in addition to being invisible. Our paladin managed to cut him anyway, and he shut up. We were in a modified antimagic field (which didn’t affect him, just us), so we were stuck with only mundane tools. Ezra dashed over to his mother (Narhunru) to see if he could free her while the others roughed up Hazlik.

Narhunru took his face in her hands, and said, “I’m sorry, this isn’t how I hoped we would meet.” She spat in his eyes. Little gobs of purple flame. Ezra blinked, and found that he could detect magic. He could see the mystical chains binding her. And he could see Hazlik.

Our bard. Our dear bard. He dropped ball bearings all over the floor. Hazlik slipped and fell. He cast Time Stop to inch his way out of the ridiculous terrain. Dicked it up and only got two rounds on us. Slipped and fell again on the first one.

When it finally got back around to Ezra’s turn (he was tragically at the bottom of the order), Hazlik was pretty beat up already. Ezra lined up his shot [with a pretty cool 16th century style musket] and put a bullet right through Hazlik’s ‘third eye’, finally killing him.

We got the heck out of there and detonated the bomb, so the tower came crashing down behind us. The other wizards will tear each other apart in Hazlik’s wake.

(And now my lovely DM has graced me with lore between sessions, because our next one won't be for another month and I would have died waiting again. Read on.)

. . .

During the whirlwind dash out of Hazlik's fortress, Narhunru is calm and shrewd. Escape, for her and you, is of the utmost importance and nothing distracts her from this. Once you've reached the safety of the lower district and found some innocuous corner to catch your breath in, her demeanor changes. Gasping breaths become sobs which wrack her entire body and she falls to her knees. Her blazing hair dwindles to embers as she clutches herself. It takes several minutes for her to regain her composure.

Sitting up, she looks to her rescuers and thanks you. Her words are cold and distant. She asks why you came to this place. For a moment, Ezra is hurt. This isn't what he'd expected, or hoped for. Pausing to process her question, he comes up with a dozen replies, some sharp and others sad.

He notices, then, the shaking of her hands. His mother’s eyes dart between him, his companions, and the nearest exit. She's scared. How long has she been here? A prisoner.

Ezra only realizes he voiced his question aloud when Narhunru replies. "Too long. Thirty three years, seven months, a week, and three days have I been a prisoner of Hazlik. Before that, I was the prisoner of another, and before that, another. I am from the City of Brass, though I would hardly call it home. It was there that my own father sold me into service to pay his debts. In my youth, I worked in the palace of the Sultan, until I was traded away to a devil and taken to Baatezu, the nine hells. It was there I met your father Jander. I watched the ill-fated Ride led by Zariel and the massacre that followed. After the battle, it was one of my duties to... to keep Jander alive."

Her eyes closed, Narhunru paused to fight the storm of memories within her. "Those who died in the charge were the lucky ones. Your father and some of his companions were captured. For the first few weeks, he begged me to stop, to let him die. I told him that I could not. As much as I wanted to, I could not disobey."

She held up the golden cuffs she still wears. "He understood, then, that we were both prisoners. In the time that followed, we slowly became each other’s escape. He would tell me tales of his past adventures. Even his darkest memories were an escape from the pain inflicted upon him in the hells. I had not intended to fall in love with him, but neither had I expected to find such a kind and caring person in that place.

“Our two souls found peace within each other, and a spark was born. You. I kept you a secret from all but your father. As much as I wished to keep you, the Hells is no place for a child, nor would you have survived in my home. We decided instead to send you to your father’s home in the mortal plane. I gave you my blessings, and he gave you your name:

“Ezra. A call for protection on your long journey. I made a deal to get you free. For my end, I would betray the Devils I served. When it was discovered, I assumed I would be killed. Instead, I was bartered to a wizard. The fool wound up here in Hazlan. Its mad ruler quickly discovered my existence and stole me away. Since then, I have been at the command of Hazlik. Until today."

The threat of more sobs looms over Narhunru as she finally looks you in the eye. "I have thought of you often. With each passing year, I tried to think of you less, because each time hurt more than the last. I do not know the fate of your father." She is quiet for a time, building the courage to ask a question of her own. "Can you forgive me?"

Stunned out of his own fears, Ezra kneels down to her and reaches out. Cautiously, he pulls Narhunru into his arms, holding her like he would have wanted to be held when he was a child. Softly, he says all the things his own ears ached for: “You’re safe now. I’m here. Of course I forgive you. No one will ever hurt you again. I’ve found you. My mother; I found you.”

It is clear from what she has said that she has been away from you longer than you have been from her. In the coming hours, she would tell you many things, some happy, many sad. She would tell you more of the City of Brass. Stories your father told her.

She is scared and cautious. She knows that much time has been lost between you. She is happy and proud of what you've accomplished. She is fearful for the future, but one cannot fear the future without some measure of hope as well.

. . .

To be continued...

#ezra sunstar #domains of dread #jander sunstar #efreeti #curse of strahd oc #fire genasi #character backstory #tragic backstory #born in hell #reunited

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percontaion-points · 9 days ago

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Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

Break-Up

I’m so fucking done with this stupid book.

I met up with Tiffany and got to tell her about everything that had happened. I knew Seth was going to tell her anyway, but I wanted her to know about it from me first. She looked a little scared, but tried to sound reassuring and positive for my sake, just like Seth had done.

I mainly want to know why the author even bothered with Tiffany’s character to begin with. Like she’s barely even a character, and could 100% be replaced with a sexy leg lamp without changing the plot.

I got to hear it all straight from the source when, only halfway to the cafeteria, I got tackled by a hysterical Caroline. “Joey! You have to help me, please!” she sobbed shamelessly. “Tristan just broke up with me! I-I don’t understand!”

Why the fuck would you go crying to a girl that you know doesn’t even fucking like you?

“You have to help me get him back, Joey! He’s your brother. You can talk to him, make him see he needs to be with me! I’ll do anything!”

Even if they were actually siblings… Again, Joe has made her opinion of Caroline perfectly clear. Why the hell would she think that this was going to actually work?

“Can’t say the same to you, Brad. You look awful as always,” I snapped back. I hoped that would make him upset. Angry was certainly a better mode for him than flirtatious.

But to my most complete surprise, he just laughed out loud in a playful mood. “Oh! You’re so feisty! I like them feisty!” he said, still with that unsettling grin on his face.

“Do you like ‘them’ with a foot up your ass too?” I asked, annoyed.

He sniggered and pretended he didn’t hear my last snarky remark. “You totally made me change my mind about you at the dance, Gray. You looked like a total babe that night! And lately you have been nothing but eyecandy,” he said with a lascivious grin.

Oh, dear. Triple Yuck! “You know, Brad, I’ve just heard Caroline isn’t with Tristan any more,” I began. Maybe I could play matchmaker here and get both of them off my back. That would make my life so much easier.

“Really?” Bradley said, and then paused thoughtfully to weigh up his options. “I hadn’t heard that. Well, in that case, I’ll have to put you on hold for a while, Gray. You’re a babe, but Caroline is smoking hot! I think I’ll have another go at her, then!”

Why the fuck would Joe be interested in hooking up with a guy who immediately turned his attention away from her the nanosecond he heard a hotter girl was suddenly single?

Like I get that Brad is supposed to be the minor villain here. But come on. Try a bit harder to make him less of a mustache-twirling bad-guy!

I practically ran to the cafeteria after that; I didn’t want to bump into anyone else in the hallway.

Chapter 32 summary: In the morning, Joe tells Tristan about her latest visit with Vigil. He gets angry at her, and “forbids her” to seek Sky/Death out. Which… yeah, buddy.

I thought that this was going to be the chapter’s titular break-up. However, on her way to lunch, Caroline approaches Joe and tearfully tells her that Tristan broke up with her. Joe is kind of like “IDK what you want me to do” and sends Caroline on her way.

Caroline is barely gone when Brad comes over and starts hitting on Joe. He acts like everything she does is a huge turn on… Until Joe tells him that Caroline is now single. Brad tells her that Caroline is way hotter, and he’s going to try with her. The entire thing is laughably bad.

#Lost Boys series #Lost Boys (LB 1)#bookblr #book review #supernatural romance #YA novel #ghosts #romance novel

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bedsyandco · 7 months ago

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♯ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎◞ 𝑴𝑩¹³

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⤫ leclerc!sister x mat barzal

✰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⤫ in which the paddock’s favourite sister arrives at the Monaco GP with a new guest

✰ 𝐜𝐰 ⤫ none.

✰ 𝐚/𝐧 ⤫ ngl. . . this is very self indulgent 🤷‍♀️ but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

f1wags

f1wags: our favourite girl has returned to the paddock; and this time it’s with a guest! Y/N leclerc shows up to the monaco track with who I presume to be her bf, and sits down for lunch with her brothers. the first time we’ve seen the entire leclerc family together in a while since Y/N has been in New York for work.

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user15: family reunion🥺

user19: my royal family of Monaco fr

user77: I’m so happy to see them all together again. I just know Charles missed her so much🥲

user66: I read an article that said Y/N came straight from the airport so this is the first interaction they’ve had in months!

f1wags: he hugged her for a good ten minutes before he let anyone else get a chance

user51: um- are we gonna skip over the bf part??

user16: how do we know it’s her bf tho…

f1wags: they were very affectionate since the moment they got out of the together. the car that arrived from the airport, so assume he’s american and flew with her. they also kissed and it looked like he was meeting her family (charles, arthur, lozenzo, pascal) I mean we won’t know 100% until she confirms it but it sure looks like they’re together. . .

user77: nooo… my wife is taken 😔

user11: I really wanna know who her bf is tho cause I’m sorry but he’s fineeeee

user62: I expected nothing less from a leclerc sibling. they always bag the prettiest people

lando.jpg

liked by charlesleclerc, ynleclerc, matbarzal and others.

lando.jpg: boat day with the bestie(s?) 🛥️

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user23: DID HE JUST—

user65: HE DID😭😭

user21: did lando just hard launch Y/N’s relationship?

user57: yep. tagged the guy and everything💀

user66: he’s such a little menace

user22: I’m not complaining I’ve been trying to figure out who it is for days🙏 thank you lando

ynleclerc: oh lando🫤

landonorris: don’t “oh lando” me, you didn’t say it was a secret????

ynleclerc: what do you think the words NOT PUBLIC means??

landonorris: the lad had his hands ALL over you in the paddock, it was gonna be public news by the end of the weekend… at least this way it came from a reliable source🤷‍♂️

user62: don’t let the fact that Y/N is dating some hot hockey player from New York distract you from the fact that the besties are reunited!!! I’ve been missing this duo so much

user90: and they’re causing chaos as usual🥲

ynleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, matbarzal, and others.

ynleclerc: since we were little, I’ve always been your biggest supporter and that will never change charlie. watching you achieve a dream you’ve worked your whole life to achieve is something so magical and all I could ever wish for you as a sibling. congratulations C! I love you endlessly❤️💌

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user13: “watching you achieve a dream you’ve worked your whole life to achieve is something so magical and all I could ever wish for you as a sibling” UM— EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SOB😭😭

charlesleclerc: I couldn’t possibly do any of this without your love and support. my lucky charm, always. je t'aime❤️❤️❤️

ynleclerc: ❤️

user76: he finally did it😭🙏

user66: these are so beautiful… did you take them?? @.ynleclerc

ynleclerc: I did! I’ve never been so grateful that I carry my camera with me EVERYWHERE. I feel so honoured that I got to capture this entire weekend. I’ll cherish it forever😚

matbarzal

liked by charlesleclerc, jackhughes, and others.

matbarzal: starting the off-season right ❤️

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noahdobson: just casually posts a picture with charles leclerc and lando norris 🧍‍♂️

matbarzal: I’ll still remember you when I’m famous😘

user72: what. the. fuck.

user77: all of us rn cause this is the wildest crossover I could ever imagine between F1 and hockey😭

user11: they’re both so hot it’s kind of unfair

ynleclerc: ❤️

matbarzal: je t'aime❤️

user55: I wonder if she made fun of Mat’s awful canadian french 😭😭

mattymarts: you expect us to believe you did laundry? I don’t think you even know how

charlesleclerc: I won. guess you’re gonna have to come to every race now 🤷‍♂️

matbarzal: should’ve never told you about superstitions 😔you don’t need them, that win was all you bro😉

charlesleclerc: miss you guys already. gonna have to come to a hockey game next season

matbarzal: you should! we’d be honoured to have you

user77: did someone say bromance??

user19: someone check on beau

ynleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, matbarzal, and others.

ynleclerc: monaco❤️

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matbarzal: red is definitely your colour baby❤️🥵

scuderiaferrari: we agree😌🏎️

charlesleclerc: thanks for coming sis❤️

arthurleclerc: miss you already🥺❤️

sydneymartin: so iconic😍

ynleclerc: says the ms. iconic herself 🥰

user21: UM— Mat looks so good OMFG

user72: she definitely dressed him

user62: YN please keep the Mat content coming🙏

user14: if I was YN leclerc all my life problems would be solved

ynleclerc: If I had your lashes all my problems would be solved. you’re stunning 😚

user16: you know those couples that just make sense? they’re definitely one of those

user88: can’t wait to see her at games and stuff

#୭ 🗄️ ₊ ⌇ hhughes #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal x you #mat barzal x y/n #mat barzal x oc #mat barzal fic #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal smau #f1 smau #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader

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messers-moony · 3 years ago

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One in the Same | R.B

Paring: Regulus Black X Wife!Reader

Summary: Reader notices Draco going through the same pain as her ex lover and desperately wants fix her faults.

“Mr.Malfoy, can you stay after class, please?”

“‘Course, Professor Black.”

An average day in second year. Professor Black - Y/n - taught History of Magic after Professor Binns decided his time was up. Too long of teaching sleeping students who could care less about his lessons. However, once Y/n took over the position, kid's grades improved and people were no longer sleeping. She made things fun and inventive.

After class time was up, everyone filed out of the classroom aside from the blond Slytherin boy. Draco has always been on the good side of Professor Black. She was always extremely kind to him despite his rather sour attitude at times. But Draco was always hesitant to initiate a conversation to really speak his feelings to her. But this was the first time she had him stay after class.

Y/n pulled out the chair in front of her desk as he sat down. His white-blond hair and gleaming blue eyes. His young face, not yet defined. Y/n with her h/c hair and curious glinted e/c eyes.

“Draco, I want to start this by saying I don’t know what your home life is like.” Y/n began, “I went to Hogwarts with your parents, though, and he wasn’t always kind. Your mother was cordial with me, though.”

“If you don’t find me intruding, what’s your home life like?”

“I- Um- It’s good.” Stammered Draco, “Father and Mother are always kind.”

Y/n’s eyes glinted with curiosity, “Lucius tolerated me.”

“Tolerated you?”

“I married one of his best friends.” Y/n chuckled, “He didn’t have a choice.”

Draco tilted his head, “Sirius?”

“Oh heavens no!” Y/n exclaimed, “Regulus. Sirius Black's brother.”

“My- My dead cousin?” He queried.

She nodded, “Yes. I married Regulus right after graduation. His parents weren’t thrilled, but he loved me so, here we are.”

“May I ask a question?”

“Shoot.”

“What were his parents like?”

“Horrible. The worst.” Y/n spat, “Sirius got the worst of it, but Regulus did occasionally too.”

“Walburga and Orion were awful. Using the crucio curse is not a great punishment for kids.” Draco’s eyes widened, “Both of them had scars from the curse. Sirius ran away at sixteen, and Regulus was used as their puppet. So used that at the age of eighteen, he felt like he had to prove himself. Which inevitably got him killed.”

“How did you deal with it?”

“Well, would you like my honest answer or my Professor answer?”

“Honest, please.”

“Between you and I, I still haven’t gotten over it.” Y/n shrugged, “I see something that reminds me of him, and I’m back at the start all over again. It takes time, and it’s taken plenty of time, but here I am, doing what I love. Teaching kids.”

“Anyways.” Y/n smiled, “You’re dismissed. I’m sorry I took up your time. However, if you ever feel the need to speak with me, let me know. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Draco picked up his bag, rustling as he stood up. The blond boy was still digesting all the information he gained. He couldn’t believe that his cousins got the crucio curse for a punishment. He thought his parents were bad. Theirs was way worse. Draco was about to walk out of the classroom but turned last minute to look at his Professor.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Draco?”

“There’s-“ He swallowed, “There’s a Quidditch match this Saturday. Slytherin versus Ravenclaw. If you have the time, I’d like you to come.”

“Of course. I’ll be there.” Y/n smiled.

He walked out of the room without a second stop. He felt better about himself now. He had someone who genuinely seemed to care about him. Draco didn’t trust her just yet, but he wouldn’t be opposed to speaking with her as he had just now in the future. Professor Black had always been open and honest with her students. Perhaps that’s why kids liked her so much.

Saturday arrived quicker than Y/n would’ve hoped for one reason. She, herself, didn’t own any Slytherin-colored merchandise anymore. But there was a box in her quarters that she brought with her to Hogwarts every year. Regulus’s old clothes meaning all his scarfs, ties, button-ups, pants, hats, etc. Y/n couldn’t seem to get rid of them. Frankly, she didn’t want to get rid of them either.

Carefully she pulled the cardboard box from the top of her closet. Taking a pair of scissors and breaking the tape seal she had put on it multiple years ago. Inside laid many pieces of the evergreen and silver cloth. Y/n’s hands gravitated to the green and silver scarf. Bringing it to her nose, she was shocked. It still smelt like him. Godric, this was going to be more challenging than she initially thought.

Nonetheless, she put it around her neck along with her button-up and tight-fit pants. Y/n put on the green gloves, much too big for her but had fit Regulus perfectly, the tie, and the scarf. It brought her a sense of nostalgia. It made Y/n feel like she was a fifth-year going out with Regulus on a date to Hogsmeade. But she wasn’t fifteen or in fifth year. Y/n was a Professor and a full-grown adult. And Regulus was dead.

The game was going well for Slytherin at the beginning. But like most Quidditch games, things can change rather quickly. Ravenclaw was studious. That was for sure. They played skillfully. Y/n sat in the Professor stands with the rest of her colleagues. She sat between McGonagall and Flitwick. But white-blond hair caught her attention in front of her. Lucius Malfoy was here spectating his son.

McGonagall nudged her, “Where’d you get the Slytherin gear?”

“Regulus.”

“How have you been, dear?” McGonagall questioned softly, “It’s been a whirlwind, but nothing I can do will bring him back, so ‘m still here for him. It’s what he would’ve wanted.” Y/n replied.

Minerva placed a hand on the girl's knee, “If you need anything, let me know.”

“‘Course, Professor.”

The game ended tragically. Slytherin had just tied the game when Cho Chang had caught sight of the snitch. Sadly, she was able to grasp it before Draco. Leaving Slytherin with two-hundred and thirty points while Ravenclaw ended with three-hundred and eighty points. Lucius seemed furious with this conclusion and stormed off the stands. Y/n knew something was up, so she followed him.

She came up in a deserted hallway in Hogwarts. Draco stood - now changed into the usual Hogwarts robes - and his father stood before him. From the view she had, Draco’s back was to her, and his father was towering over the boy.

Lucius had a cold and icy voice, “You are insufferable!”

“You had one job, Draco! One! Catch the damn snitch.” He scolded, “Perhaps you were too daft to figure that out?”

“‘M sorry, father. I didn’t mean to. Honest.” Draco was pleading and begging for mercy; it made Y/n’s heartache at the familiar words.

“Mum, Dad, I seriously didn’t mean to!” Regulus had cried after breaking a vase, “Excuses, excuses, they won’t get you anywhere in life, boy!” Orion shouted.

Tears collected in his silver eyes, “‘M sorry! ‘M so sorry!”

Walburga pointed her wand at him, “Crucio.”

Lucius scoffed, “Malfoy’s don’t cry, wipe those tears.”

“Should‘ve sent you to Durmstrang. You come to Hogwarts and forget everything I’ve ever taught you.”

“Father, I really didn’t mean to! She just got there faster than me.” Draco begged.

Y/n saw it before Draco did. Lucius raised his palm slowly, and Draco flinched. Y/n saw the pale hand rise into the air, and without a second thought, she ran in front of the young boy, taking the blow that was meant for Lucius’ son. Draco heard the sound but never felt the impact. Carefully he opened his eyes to see Professor Black standing in front of him, a hand on her cheek.

“How dare you get in the way!” Lucius yelled, “How dare I? How dare you for trying to leave a hand on your son!” Y/n retorted her bright cheek red from impact.

Draco was appalled, “Draco is your son! Not a toy or a puppet, and I will not stand for this!”

“You don’t have to, half breed.” Lucius seethed, “As you said, he’s my son. Not yours.”

“I could give less fucks!” Y/n exclaimed, “Draco is my student. I will not be having you lay your hands on my students.”

Lucius scoffed, “Where’s your child, mm?”

“Right, you don’t have one.” Lucius answered, “Because your blood-traitor of a husband decided to get himself killed!”

“Regulus was not a blood-traitor for trying to right his wrongs!”

“Regulus and Sirius were no different from each other.”

“Leave them out of this!”

“Oh, so it’s still a soft spot for you?”

“So help me, I’ll-“

“Petrificus Totalus.” Draco stated while holding his wand, causing his father to fall to the ground, paralyzed.

Y/n stared at the body in shock, “Draco.”

She didn’t even have time to reprimand him before he burst into tears. Y/n turned quickly and embraced him into a much-needed hug while the boy sobbed on her shoulder. Y/n’s hands went through Draco’s white-blond hair gently while he let every emotion out. She pulled away and wiped the tears on his cheeks.

“You’re going to be okay, I promise.” Y/n informed, and Draco nodded, “Th- Thank you, Professor.”

Y/n smiled and sent him off to the Slytherin common room, leaving her to deal with Lucius. The Professor dragged him to Madam Pomfrey to deal with. Later that night, in her quarters, while brushing her teeth, she noticed the considerable bruise covering her left cheek: Blue and purple hues mixed to create a dark blue-violet looking color, almost grey.

Sixth year was now here. Y/n’s fourth year of teaching at Hogwarts, and she couldn’t have asked for a better job. On September 1st, she went through the floo-network to arrive in her teacher's quarters. Looking at the time, it seemed that students were just about reaching onto the grounds when a knock sounded at her door.

“Come in!”

A blond boy, much taller, defined face, and grey eyes had just walked into her teacher's quarters, “Good evening, Professor.”

“Good evening, Draco.” Y/n greeted smiling brightly, “What's on your mind, sweetheart?”

Draco didn’t know where to begin as water collected on his lower lash line, and gently he pulled up his left sleeve. Godric, it felt like deva Vu all over again.

“Y- Y/n.” Regulus called through his tears, “What’s wrong, baby?” Y/n asked, sitting beside him on the four-poster bed.

Regulus couldn’t help the tears that helplessly fell down his cheeks. His eyes were silver and blurred. Cheeks flushed and hair knotted. This past summer had been a shit show for him with Sirius running away and just everything that had gone on. Regulus had never felt this hopeless before.

“I- I need your help.”

“Of course, anything, baby.”

He swallowed, “Just know that I’ll love you forever. Okay?”

“‘Course.”

Gently, he released a breath of air and pulled up his left sleeve. The combined snake and skull only meaning one thing. Regulus was now a death eater to the Dark Lord. Tears sprung in Y/n’s eyes but not because of disappointment but because of worry. She didn’t know what she would do if Regulus were to be gone.

“They forced me!” Regulus pleaded, “Please, please don’t leave me.”

Regulus was weeping, and Y/n took him into her arms, “Shh, shh, I’m not disappointed. I’m just worried about you.”

“I don’t wanna- I don’t wanna do this.” Regulus whimpered, “Please help me.”

“I’m gonna help you ‘m love. Don’t worry.”

“What happened this summer?” Y/n asked as Draco pulled back down his sleeve.

“Auntie Bella.”

Draco was trying so hard to swallow his tears as his Professor was now face to face with him, “Draco.”

How was her voice so sweet and calm, almost like she had done this before, “It’s okay to show emotion. It’s being human. Let it go, darling.”

Just like that, the dam broke, and Draco was a sobbing mess again. How was it that Professor Black had always managed to feel more like home than his actual parents? What had his mum done for him while Bellatrix was giving him the mark? She had just stood there watching pain contort on his face. Y/n felt more like a mother to him, more like family to him.

“Shh. Shh. You’re safe here, Draco.”

“They- They want me-“ He was choking on his words, and Y/n placed her hands on his shoulders, “Take deep breaths and then explain. Okay?”

He began to inhale and exhale air at a slow pace, “They want me to-“ Draco swallowed, “They want me to kill Dumbledore.”

“Okay.” Y/n stated, letting out a breath of air, “You and I will get through this.”

“You- You promise?”

“I promise.”

Perhaps it was instinct now for Draco to stay after in her classroom. After every lesson, Draco would visit her in her classroom just to be in her company or to talk. What was it about Y/n that drew these people close to her? Ones with broken souls who believed that couldn’t be helped. Was it her kindness? Perhaps it was her caring nature—too many variables to pinpoint.

The moment Y/n heard crying in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, she knew something was wrong. Approaching cautiously, she saw Harry Potter doing the same behind Draco, who stood facing the basin, dried tears on his cheeks. Everything happened too fast for Y/n to understand. But when Harry spoke an incantation that left Draco bleeding out on the floor, everything changed.

She was jumping into action hastily, falling to her knees beside the blond-haired boy while Harry was almost in tears at his mistake. Y/n took her wand out and began muttering spells to heal the boy's chest. Harry was now in a heap on the floor, tears filling his glorious emerald eyes while the Professor took care of his harm. It took ten minutes before the bleeding stopped, and Y/n turned to face Harry.

“Harry.”

“‘M sorry. I- I didn’t know…”

“It’s okay. I’m just glad I was here.” Y/n replied, and Harry looked like a mess, “I need you to go to the Gryffindor tower and not speak of this to anyone, okay?”

He nodded and stood up sluggishly. Harry left the bathroom, leaving Y/n with an unconscious Draco. Sighing heavily, she picked up the boy and lugged him to the hospital wing, where he was taken care of. The following day an owl was pecking at Y/n’s window, leading her to wake up and take the note from the owl’s foot.

“Draco won’t stop calling for you.”

Y/n freshened up, brushing her teeth, hair, and a change of clothes before making her way to the Hospital Wing. It was quite a ways away from. Her section of the school, but if Draco needed her, she needed to be there even if it was six o’clock in the morning. Her shoes made a light tap along with the wood as she walked and hesitantly opened the big door to the infirmary.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Madam Pomfrey said with her hand over her heart, “Draco has been asking for you, my dear.”

She gave a tiny smile as Pomfrey pointed to where Draco was lying. Carefully she stripped back some of the white curtain and pulled a chair beside his bed. Y/n took his hand in his. It was cold and pale. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine holding Regulus’ hand in the same exact way after a horrible Bludger accident.

An hour later, Draco finally woke up, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”

“Professor, you- you came.”

She smiled, “You called for me, of course, I’d come.”

Draco pushed himself up into a sitting position, his grey eyes locked on her warm e/c ones, “Sorry, I just, didn’t expect you to come.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I feel okay. Little sore but nothing I haven’t been through.”

Y/n smiled sadly, “I knew a boy just like you, you know?”

“You did?” Draco asked, and she nodded, “I did.”

“Could you tell me about him?”

“Well, he was strong, smart, and closed off. His home life wasn’t too great either and was forced into being what his parents were too.” Draco looked eager for more, “Eventually, he realized that this wasn’t the life he wanted. He no longer cared about his parent's approval. He just wanted to be him, but by then, it was too late.”

“Too late?”

She nodded, “He was already in too late, so he did the only thing he thought of. Betraying his parents, his family. He was so caught up in what he was doing he didn’t realize what he was doing, and now, because of that, he’s no longer with us.”

“But you aren’t too late, Draco.” Y/n stressed, tightening her grip on his hand, “Let me save you. Let me help you.”

Tears ebbed at the corners of his eyes, “Please.”

Y/n took him in her arms and rubbed his back soothingly, “You aren’t alone. I’m here for you.”

It took months, but everything was over. It felt like time had stopped. Y/n could remember the terror standing outside of Hogwarts as the death eaters stood on the other side. Narcissa was calling for him - the boy who had no choice - and Draco was panicking as Lucius began calling his name.

Draco swallowed and shook his head.

It was the feeling of relief that brought Y/n solace. Draco took the step that Regulus took, and she would make sure he didn’t pay for it. The relief felt like a breath of fresh air now that the war was over. Y/n had stepped into the Great Hall panicking, hoping, praying that he was okay. At that moment she saw it.

He was crouched in the corner. People were glaring at him all around. Draco saw. He saw the Weasleys crying over Fred. He saw Harry look empty, staring at Remus Lupin and Nymphadora. The way Lavender Brown’s parents sobbed over her dead body. He saw the way Dennis Creevey was yelling and screaming in pain at seeing his deceased older brother. Draco could remember how close they were.

Nonetheless, he stood up and ran into her arms: his solace, home, and safe place. Draco couldn’t remember what it felt like to be held this tight. He dug his nose into her neck and just remembered to breathe. She pulled away to see a small smile playing on his lips. Y/n cupped his cheeks gently.

“I’m so, so proud of you.” Y/n smiled, “I can't explain how proud I am of you. You did it.”

Draco smiled and leaned into her hands, “Thanks, mum.”

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thesunshineriptide · 2 years ago

Note

If you're still asking for overblot characters I was curious about Jack and Epel.

Overblot Epel

First of all he overblots because of Vil. I’d imagine that his overblot would happen due to extremely foreseen circumstances of being berated over and over again

This isn’t new, it’s just his life, but it’s adding up and eating at him. He’s trying, okay, can’t you see that? He’s doing his best to be prissy and high brow and suppress the instinct to bite someone every time they misgender him or call him pretty and whatnot.

He’s another case of just overusing his magic on accident in combination with the mental anguish. It’s not a mental breakdown, persay, and it’s not him snapping, it’s a slow burning fire that simply had more kindling added to it

The day isn’t anything spectacular. There isn’t a major event coming up, there isn’t a big fight, there’s no failing tests or stress beyond normal. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t wear him down.

He takes his dance classes. He does pretty well in them, which only serves to frustrate him since he hates ballet, it’s uncomfortable and it hurts, he hasn’t trained for this. He aces his potionology tests with Rook’s help, which is great except that now Vil’s looking at him smugly, and tells him he expects this of him all the time.

It’s time for their daily duel. It probably shouldn’t be daily, but it is because Epel simply can’t keep himself from telling Vil to shove off.

This is what causes it. Epel fights with all his might, trying not to hurt Vil but still attempting to win. And, of course, he loses.

Then he gets up. When Vil has his back turned, he blasts him with an elemental attack, seething.

“Again.” He demands, “I want to go again.”

“Spudling,” Vil says tiredly, “You’ve lost once. Do you want that to happen again?”

Epel nods, and Vil sighs before readying himself.

Epel loses again, but his control is waning.

“Again.” He says, glaring, “I’ll win this time.”

“Epel.” Vil says firmly.

He stops, though, because Epel isn’t asking anymore. He’s already slinging spells his way, no care for how harmful they might be. Vil is on the defense, doing his best to dodge and block. He hadn’t expected this, though he probably should have, and he’s somehow both impressed and pissed.

Epel is exhausting himself at this point. His magestone is nearly completely black, and Vil can see.

“Stop.” He says, “Epel, stop.”

“No!” He cries, and flings a fireball at him.

Ink begins pooling down from his hairline, covering his face in a delicate black mask. His hands shake and his lip quivers, and he continues shooting it at him, “No! I’m going to win! I’m going to win!”

He’s consumed with blot, and Vil reels back at the realization. He understands, now, that he went too far. He should have kept his comments gentler, or stopped Epel from going again and again

Epel looks both delicate and strong at once. His blot phantom is a prince, decked in red and blue and gold, glaring down at Vil

Epel himself wears intricately designed armor, like a knight, but worse. He looks down empty tears in his eyes, the look in them dead.

He’s a little difficult to take down. Fighting him doesn’t help, he doesn’t have restraint and honestly nobody even wants to fight him. No, what it takes is Vil calling in some help from the spelldrive team to just. Calm him down.

Leona takes charge, tugging Epel close despite the danger and telling him to stop acting like this, nobody questions his strength, and if he doesn’t he’s off the spelldrive team.

It should piss him off more. It should make him go harder, but instead he sags in Leona’s grip, sobbing as the beastman holds him up. There’s an unspoken understanding between them that Leona does care, and that Epel idolizes him more than anyone else in NRC.

“You’re alright, herbivore.” He says to Epel, patting his head, “Let’s get you somethin’ to drink.”

There’s nothing to be said. His overblot was an accident, it was never meant to happen. Nobody apologizes, but the behaviors change anyway. Vil loosens the leash a little, Leona takes up some of the slack and makes sure Epel is alright from time to time, and Epel does his best to not let things get to him so badly

Overblot Jack

Jack is a tough nut to crack considering everything. He’s a dependable hard worker who keeps his nose clean and never cuts corners. He’s excellent in most skills, he’s strong, he tries his best in class, and he rarely gets into fights.

What, on earth, could cause this guy to overblot?

Werewolves: the monsters that wolf-beastmen are said to turn into when possessed by the power of the full moon. People often tell young kids not to stay up too late or they’ll turn into them

Jack is dependable. He gets to sleep at 10 pm, he wakes up early to do his runs, he studies hard to memorize things and do well. So when he begins to slip in these areas, staying up later, sleeping in longer, going as far as to growl at Crewel, it’s evident something is wrong with him.

It started as a prank, really! Ace and Deuce were having a little fun, started settling Jack’s water jugs outside and turning them into moon water. In the sun, it doesn’t look different, though in the nighttime it lights up a lovely pale blue color and shimmers with energy.

They begin to realize their mistake soon enough. Jack’s been accidentally snapping handles off doors, he accidentally injured Epel in practice. His hair looks sharper, puffier, and so does his tail. And he looks to be in a very, very bad mood.

At lunchtime he rips and tears at his food, hunched over it. He eats with his hands, too, which is worrisome. He’s glaring when Ace reaches over to steal a fry off his plate, and-

He bites him.

Ace reels back, screaming. Jack looks indifferent.

It’s a week of this before someone intervenes. Jack’s gone pretty much mute, but he still manages to do schoolwork most of the time. The only people he’ll listen to are the dorm heads, and even then it’s risky.

He begins to grow fur. It’s soft white, like his beast form, but it seems…matted. It makes him look somewhat terrifying.

What makes him overblot is the final intervention. All of the dorm leaders have cornered him, blocking all exits. Leona’s crouched, ready to tackle him if he gets violent. Riddle’s already got his pen out, poised to off his head. Azul, Idia (in person, yes) and Kalim stand mostly as bodies to prevent escape while Vil and Malleus block the other exits. He’s completely cornered.

It’s late at night, which only makes him more agitated. He growls and snaps wildly at those he would normally deem to be his friends, eyes glowing yellow. Moonlight leaks in through the atrium of the botanical gardens, and he begins to shift.

Bones crack and reappoint themselves, he’s growling a deep rumble, and he looks distinctly not human, not even close to himself. He’s somewhere between wolf and man, but closer to animal as he howls.

This is his overblot.

There’s ink designed in tendrils crawling up his arms and legs, splotches of it painting his ears, and behind him is his phantom, another wolf. It sits proudly, silently, stoically, but it doesn’t move to attack at all. It seems this one has more presence of mind than Jack

He runs at Leona, who dodges and grabs him by the scruff, forcing him to the ground. Riddle casts his signature spell, snapping the collar around Jack’s neck quickly. It interrupts something, leaving Jack whining with wide eyes on the floor, looking up pitifully.

The phantom stands and moves closer, carefully avoiding Leona but doing much the same as him. One massive paw sits in the middle of Jack’s back.

Riddle crouches down, gently petting Jack’s ears. “I believe my freshman have done this to you. Let me help fix this, it’s the least I can do.”

Everyone is silent as they watch Jack’s labored breathing and dog-like whines. He slowly gets up, ears flicking and swiveling as he tries to orient himself. He can’t speak - he knows he should be able to. He thinks he recognizes these people, but his mind is scrambled.

The phantom disappears quickly, and it’s Leona who’s left to keep him under control. Jack stops putting up a fight, but he doesn’t exactly submit either, growling and snapping when Leona gets close.

It takes Riddle, again, to calm him. He’s tugging the beastman along toward the alchemy room, talking on the phone with his mother and father, asking what they know. The strong dormleaders flank them, because having a werewolf loose in the school can’t be good.

Azul and Idia get to work studying in books while Riddle takes notes from his parents. Everyone else is on dog sitting duty, though it’s hard when Jack keeps trying to escape from Leona.

Eventually, near sunrise, they finally have a cure. Riddle removes his collar just as Jack begins to drink it, causing a dissonant moment where the beastman looks ready to attack again and seems to be calming down.

Eventually the day is saved and Jack turns out to be okay, much to the relief of everyone. He has to take a few days off school to recover (and shed) but all’s well that ends well

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #epel felmier #twst epel #pomefiore #twst jack #jack howl #savanaclaw #savannaclaw

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princess-of-purple-prose · 2 years ago

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Jon’s been dreaming more often than not, lately. Sometimes they even follow him into waking. One of the ones that sticks with him most is the crush of soil over and around him to infinity. He always wakes from that one gasping for breath, sure there’ll be grit under his tongue when he does.

Jon feels heavy. Heavy like something that belongs to the earth. Heavy like something that never should have left it.

Jon wakes up.

A non-canon alt ending to my fic Perchance to Dream! Please, please read that first if you want to read this, as a) this will make no sense otherwise and b) it would ruin the entire original fic otherwise. I say this is non-canon because the ending of Perchance is important to the thesis of the fic, but this came very close to being the conclusion before I decided otherwise. It's up to you to decide how this fits into the rest of the work!

Martin looks away, and that more than anything is what makes Jon’s heart fall.

—

“What happened to me, Martin?”

“Jon, don’t ask me that.” Martin’s voice is small and tight, and it tears at something in Jon’s ribcage, but—

“What. Happened, Martin,” he says again, and it hurts. It hurts to ask, it hurts to see Martin’s shoulders draw inwards and his lips press together in the way that always signals he’s about to cry. But he needs to know.

“There was—an accident,” Martin begins, and Jon doesn’t have to see the sheen of tears in his eyes to know he’s lying.

“But it wasn’t an accident, was it,” he presses, remorseless. It hurts. He needs to know. “It, it doesn’t make any sense. I ached, I’ve ached for months, but I have no sign of any injuries, no, no scars, and—my memory loss! It doesn’t make any sense, Martin—”

And here his voice cracks, but he keeps talking, because if he doesn’t he’ll crack apart too. “I, I did research, and it shouldn’t, shouldn’t work like this, shouldn’t leave me with fuzzy memories of one specific period of my life and leave the rest intact! There’s no accident I can think of that would do this! The pain, my memories, the—the nightmares! Martin, tell me what happened.” Jon’s voice does break, truly. “Because I know it wasn’t an accident. And I know that you know that too.”

Martin’s shoulders slump at the same time Jon’s do.

“No,” he whispers, voice choked. He doesn’t look at Jon. “Not an accident.”

Jon isn’t shocked. He—he knew that’s what this was all about, but—he still needs a second to gather himself. “So—so what, somehow I, I got myself mixed up in something I shouldn’t have, and that something—”

Martin lets out a sob, and Jon stops. This is hurting them both, and Jon wants nothing more than to backtrack, to pretend the last fifteen minutes never happened, but he can’t.

But even as Jon is working up to starting again, he realizes—Martin isn’t sobbing. He’s laughing, and it’s an awful, broken thing.

“Always you and your questions, huh,” he says, and there is despair in his voice, flat and dull and hurt. “I—I love you so much, why can’t you just—” His voice breaks. It takes him a second to recover. “Why can’t you just be happy? Why can’t you just be content with what we have? Why do you need to know?”

Jon’s heart is pounding. His hands are sweaty, and his mouth is so, so dry. “Martin.” He has to clear his throat. “Martin, I am happy, I am, I’ve never been happier, but I—Martin, I can’t not know. Not—not about this.”

And Martin just—deflates.

“I know,” he says. “I know. And I love you for it, so much, I’m sorry if I made it sound otherwise. I wouldn’t change you for the world.” He stops, glares fiercely at nothing. “I wouldn’t. It’s just—you make it so difficult, sometimes.”

“Make what difficult,” Jon begs. He knows Martin doesn’t mean for it to hurt, but something pangs in his chest anyway.

Martin’s mouth crumples at the corner. “It’s not you, Jon, it’s not, it’s me, it’s my fault, I just—”

He stops. Jon’s hand has found its way to his, and despite it all, Jon is smiling at him. It’s not a happy smile, but it’s gentle enough and it’s there.

“Martin. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Martin lets out a short laugh. He blinks hard, lets the tears fall. “I. I made a decision, a while ago. I don’t—I don’t regret it. But I think maybe it was the wrong thing to do.”

Jon disentangles their fingers and brings his hand up to Martin’s face. He cups his cheek in his hand, cradles it. “Martin. You’ve only ever done your best.”

“Something like that,” Martin sniffs, and there is a star collapsing in Jon’s chest and he doesn’t know why, but—Martin lays his hand over Jon’s, and the weight of that is familiar, at least. This is something Jon does know. This warmth isn’t a lie.

And Martin tells him the truth.

—

It takes a while. First for Martin to calm down enough to even speak clearly, and then there are several false starts as Martin tries to sand down the words he needs until they’re small enough to fit in his mouth. When he manages that, Jon bogs down his stumbling explanation with enough questions to sink a fleet of encyclopedias. But Jon refuses to waver. Not on this. This dogged, miserable curiosity is the realest thing Jon has felt in all his time here.

The truth doesn’t bring back his memories. The names Martin says don’t come with faces, and most of the questions he answers only spawn more. Jon is sure he’ll crack under the weight of it all. He thinks he might already have.

It feels like hours have passed by the time Martin’s voice finally cuts out for good. His face is blotchy and covered in tears and snot; his eyes are muddied with tears. Something in Jon’s chest is tearing slow and jagged.

The uncertain silence between them shivers, solidifies like gel. Martin sniffs and straightens, wiping at his eyes. He doesn’t look at Jon; Jon can’t look away.

“I just—I can’t believe you assumed it was your fault.” A wet laugh. “What even made you think that?”

Jon looks down. Folds his hands in his lap. “Wasn’t it?” This is the wrong thing to say, from the choking sound that emits from Martin’s chest. Jon’s lips tighten.

Martin doesn’t say what Jon thought he would, doesn’t offer bitter platitudes or promises Jon can no longer gauge the weight of. Instead, he says, “I really messed up.”

“You did,” Jon nods. “You also saved my life.”

“Saved is a strong—”

“I’ll not have it from the man who apparently negotiated with the reaper for my soul.” Jon lets out a slow sigh and wonders if it’s actually carving deeper lines into his face or if it just feels like it. His mind is a scattered school of fish, impossible to grasp or set in order. Martin doesn’t offer anything into the silence, probably for both their sakes, but the quiet only makes his thoughts swim away from him faster.

When Jon finally opens his mouth, his voice is hoarse. “Martin you—you took this from me. Years of my life, friends and, and not-friends, and—for god’s sake, Martin, I forgot fear!” Or at least, he had, until a spider reintroduced him to it. Jon thinks he should be grateful for this, from the horrors Martin’s told him of, but instead it makes him feel hollow and cold. What facsimile of a person must he be, to have not known fear?

There it is. “What does that make me, Martin? Who does that make me?”

The sound Martin makes is nothing short of anguished. He starts saying something, the words ragged after the salt of so many tears, but Jon talks over him, volume building as the pressure in his head ramps with it.

“Martin—who am I even in love with? Who are you even in love with? I don’t remember meeting you, but you do remember me. You fell in love with—this other man. The Archivist, the one with more scars than sense and the one who ended apocalypses and, and, and started them! The one you lived through every kind of hell with!”

He is breathing rather unsteadily, he realizes. “The one who died.”

“Jon, I—” The desperation on Martin’s face is plain and awful to see.

“Stop.” Jon’s anger is an unfamiliar shape in his throat. Usually it’s a slow-moving beast, quick to startle and quick to settle, but now it feels wild and unpredictable, ready to lash out and tear out both of their throats. He takes slow, deliberate breaths and tries to tame his pounding heart. What comes out of his mouth next is a poor imitation of a laugh. “I wish you’d just lied to me.”

Martin looks stricken. He’d absorbed every other accusation like a blow he’d been braced to take, but this one hits him. Jon laughs again. “I mean— you kept secrets and misdirected and pretended, but you only ever let me draw my own conclusions.” God knows Martin wasn’t perfect at hiding the gaps in his story, the cracks in his smile. It’s a wonder Jon didn’t confront him sooner. Maybe he just didn’t want to. “I mean—I never, never would’ve figured this out! You could’ve done this for your own sake, kept me calm and compliant and—and I would’ve been happy.” Martin’s face fills with nauseous horror, and Jon feels sick, sick, sick.

“But you didn’t.” Jon closes his eyes, pained beyond what he’d thought anyone could withstand. His voice comes out strained to its breaking point. “Because you love me.”

Jon keeps his eyes closed and waits for the ache in his throat to fade. Martin is silent as death opposite him.

“Did I choose it?” He’s not sure why that’s his next question; it’s hardly the most relevant.

Martin blinks. “What, to come back to life?” His snort sounds close to angry, which is the first spark he’s seen from Martin since they started. “No, Jon, because you were dead.”

It’s Jon’s turn to pause. “Would I have, then?”

Martin’s lips twist in what Jon recognizes as a flinch. “I don’t know. I’m not sure.”

They’re silent for a time longer. The beast in Jon’s throat has shifted, shrunken just a little. Jon imagines its ears laying back as he asks, voice small, “Am I—different? From the one you knew?” This double-consciousness is going to kill him. Jon isn’t Jon. He isn’t even Martin’s Jon, not really, and if he isn’t that he’s not sure he’s anything at all.

“Jon, you’re not—” Martin gives a wet sigh. “No. And yes. You have to understand”—he winces even as he says it—“we met under… poor circumstances. We didn’t even like each other at first.”

“We didn’t?” Jon asks without meaning to. His mouth is dry.

Martin huffs a laugh. “Not even close.” He considers something. “But you—you’ve always been you. You changed so much, but we all did, and… I don’t know, I never thought it was irretrievable. I think I always knew who you were, just like—just like you always knew me.”

Jon has nothing to say to that.

“You did actually use to have gray hair,” Martin offers after another lapse. “When we met, not after. I don’t know why it disappeared. I miss it.”

“Wha—really?” Since when? Jon shakes his head. Distractions.

“Would you have told me? If I didn’t ask?” Martin looks away. Jon snorts, or maybe sighs. “Right.”

They seem to have exhausted their words, after that, and their living room has never felt smaller or emptier. There’s… really nothing more to say. Martin is laid bare, and Jon feels like he’s been vivisected. If every day before this one was a dream of paradise, Jon is waking up to find the world cold and miserable and all too real.

“Martin,” Jon starts, and stops. Martin looks up like Jon is placing his heart on Anubis’ scales. Jon feels his own heart stumble in his chest. “Martin, I don’t hate you.”

Martin’s whole face contorts in a spasm. He swipes at his nose roughly and snorts. “You should.”

“I think I’ll decide what I can and can’t feel right now, thank you.” Jon’s voice is acid, and Martin flinches like he’s been burned. Jon takes no pleasure in it. He tries to mentally pull back, hold tight the reins of his tongue so his next words don’t come out splinter on their way out and leave them both bloodied.

A phrase dances on the tip of Jon’s tongue. He could say In fact, I still… and follow with those three simple words. It might lift, at least a little, the suffocating pressure in the air. Jon’s said it a thousand times before; he’s said it more times than he can count. And looking at him now, Martin could use a little absolution.

Jon can’t say I love you.

He does. He knows he does. This revelation to end all revelations couldn’t change that. Death couldn’t change it, apparently. But he can’t say it.

Horribly, Martin seems accepting of this. He doesn’t push for Jon to continue speaking, just watches with eyes that are huge and luminous. His sitting height still puts him well above Jon’s eye level, but it’s impossible to shake the sensation that he’s looking up at Jon, pleading like his neck is on the chopping block and Jon is in hangman’s robes. Jon doesn’t know how to hold that responsibility.

When Jon finally opens his mouth, his voice is brittle, despite his best efforts, but at least it’s stable. “I don’t hate you,” Jon says again. “But…” Martin almost recoils. “I’m not sure we can continue further when I don’t really know you, either.”

Martin’s lips part, and a soft sound of shock-pain-grief escapes them. Jon could cry just hearing it.

“Okay,” Martin says after an agonizing pause, voice a shade too high and almost more waver than word. His throat must hurt terribly, Jon thinks with a distracted, incongruous pang.

Martin is a sputtering faucet, speech coming in bursts with barely a breath in between. “I— That’s fair. I-I still have enough in my bank account to support us both, even if I—” His mouth only shapes the word leave. Martin looks like he’s speaking through a hole in his chest, and the inhale he drags in rattles like it too. “But I’m not sure if—”

“So,” Jon says, speaking over him. Martin’s mouth slams shut so fast his teeth click. Jon’s whole face feels funny, his lips numb and his voice foreign to himself. “That means that we need to get to know each other. Properly, this time. No secrets and no history. Just two strangers meeting for the first time with nothing but a good feeling to go off of.”

Martin simply stares for a short eternity. Then he gives a choked, breathless laugh. “Jon—?”

Jon extends a hand. He still can’t tell if he’s smiling or crying, but his voice is sure as he’s ever known himself to be. “I’m Jonathan Sims. But, um.” He swallows but doesn’t falter. “But you can call me Jon. Would you like to get to know each other?”

Martin, he finds, would.

#tma #tma fanfic #tma fic #jonmartin #the magnus archives #my writing #my posts #kay talks #hello all i literally forgot to post this before so you're getting it today!#if i titled this i think it'd be 'endless apologies of paradise'#titling on tumblr doesn't look that pretty though so it's being posted without one #spiritually this goes out to that one commenter who left two really nice comments #and then deleted their account (had their account deleted?) exactly one hour later #perchance to dream

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showtoonzfan · 3 years ago

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Helluva Boss Season 2, episode 2 sneak peek: Thoughts and predictions

So for those who don’t know, Vivziepop was attending a convention the other day knows as “TooManyGames”, and they showed a sneak peek of Helluva boss season 2, this time being episode 2. A fan went there and filmed the peek, as they made this tweet: https://twitter.com/drtwitch666/status/1540792987864551424?s=21&t=4-_DqKLAsW58rlDWmBao6g

A big thanks goes to that person, so give him some love! Anyway, now that we have a clip of season 2, I wanted to give my thoughts and predictions. There’s not really much to say, but I still wanted to make a post regardless. Please keep in mind that I’d love to know what you thought of the clip, and what you think is ganna happen! Without further or do, let’s start!

So there’s not a lot to go off of here, but to sum up the clip, Blitz is trying to talk to Loona about her behavior towards clients, hence why Loona is so mad. Moxxie seems happy here, as Blitz is struggling and is trying to put his foot down in a way. While that’s going on, we see Octavia sneak in, as she goes to steal the book. She succeeds, possibly going to earth with it.

So firstly, I’d to talk about what I think this episode will be like. It clearly seems to be centered around Loona and Octavia, with Loona frustrated about Blitz and her behavior, and Octavia possibly escaping her parents.

Judging by these two screenshots in the 2022 trailer, I have the feeling these are from the same episode, this episode in particular, in which Loona goes to earth to cool off, and spots Octavia. They’ll of course probably hang out and bond over their daddy issues, and teenage stuff they like. I’m also expecting a heart to heart emotional moment of course, especially since the fandom wants to see them together since they’re both angsty teens. I did see one fan theorize that Stolas and Blitzo go to earth as well to look for her, but DEAR god I hope that’s not the case. Seriously, I don’t know how much more of the stolitz pandering and fan service I can take, I’m so sick of this being “The Stolitz” show, and nothing else. Can we actually focus on the characters who fucking NEED development? Can we actually focus on the female characters for once? I also saw another fan theorize that Blitzo and Stolas will accidentally get caught up in a movie set for humans mistaking them for actors, and then a fight scene ensues, judging by the shots of Blitz with a wig in the trailer. So yeah….it seems Blitz and his crew will then go to earth to look for her, along with Stolas until they’re pulled into some show set by accident and have a fight scene. That I’m not looking forward to, it feels like there’s going to be a lot of filler in this episode with Stolitz fanservice and the fighting, when they COULD be using that time to develop the characters that need it, aka Octavia and Loona. This episode is honestly a good opportunity to give Octavia and Loona more development, so they don’t feel like freaking background characters anymore. I’m sincerely hoping they do something engaging with Loona’s development specifically, something that won’t just be “wahh, I’m a horrible bitch who has no friends even though I could easily just be nice to people to fix that!”, because yeah, Loona has her issues and I don’t want another sob fest for a character that’s just an asshole who could easily change. Of course it seems this episode is also leaning towards another conflict between Loona and Blitz’s father daughter relationship, and all I can say is that I hope the development actually GOES somewhere instead of disappearing into thin air like episode 3. It would be interesting to see how Blitz and Loona bounce back whenever something though goes on between them, so I hope there’s actual development on their relationship here, again….unlike episode 3, where they just blew up at each other, and the episode just…dropped the conflict and forgot about it. As for Octavia, of course we can infer that she’ll be upset about everything going on at home, especially since her father of the year is still screwing Blitz and has made zero changes for her or her mother, and her mother is just a screeching one note bitch. While I’m intrigued to see more about Octavia and this situation, I do hope we learn more about her outside of that, like I hope she won’t just be angry and sulking the entire episode. I also want to say that I hope season 2 doesn’t hold back regarding Octavia, and what I mean by that is i want them to show us how she truly feels, show her desperately torn up and angry at her parents, WITHOUT making Stolas look good in some shape or form. I say that because I really didn’t like how episode 2 handled her feelings. Basically to sum Loona and Octavia up, I hope there’s more added to their characters, and that they get good development. If the episode really does involve Stolas and Blitz looking for them, I sincerely hope Viv and Brandon spent the running time they have to developing other characters, instead of more stupid Stolitz fan service. Seriously, Loona and Octavia desperately need development, and this seems like a good setup if my theory turns out to be true.

Moving on, let’s discuss my thoughts on the actual clip. It starts with Loona literally beating the shit out of Blitzo….and well, this is certainly different, we’ve never seen her act with violence, at least with Blitz. While I’m so happy to see Blitz getting beaten, I’m kinda worried about how they’ll handle Loona’s situation. I still REALLY don’t like her, she screams edgy loud obnoxious furry, and I can already tell this is going to be an episode deep diving into how lonely she is probably, and that she doesn’t have any friends. The only problem is that I still can’t feel bad for Loona. She’s unlikable as all heck and I can’t get invested in her or her story. Like…I get that she’s supposed to be this angsty teen trope but….sorry guys, it’s the same with how I feel about Blitzo, Stolas, and Angel, I just can’t feel sympathy for a character that acts like nothing other than a spoiled horrible brat. All I can say is that I hope she realizes that she doesn’t need to treat everyone around her like utter shit for no reason and own up to her behavior with the consequences. Moving on from that, we see that Moxxie is happy, my viewpoint is that he seems eager to get a new receptionist since she’s so mean to him, that or he’s genuinely happy Blitz is putting his foot down. Oh yeah, that’s another thing. Can we actually SEE Loona do some work? Yes we’ve seen her fight, but we never see her do her damn job. She always just sits at the desk and reads or something, it would be interesting to see how a client calls her and what she has to do. That reminds me, I sincerely hope that Blitz will finally be working to be more kinder and of course respectful to Moxxie and his wife. It would be nice to seem him at least TRYING to be more kinder and understanding towards his employees, and since he’s finally confronting Loona about her behavior, it could be a good start, though it seems more like he’s only talking to her about her behavior not for the sake of him or his workers, but for his job rather. Hope that’s not the case.

Anyway, we see that Octavia has come in to steal Stolas’s grimoire. Not really happy to see that the book is still just a portal device. It’s always aggravating to watch a character interact with this book, because we still don’t know what the heck it does, or any lore regarding it. How long do we have to wait until we figure out this book’s purpose? What it’s used for? What it does? What’s in it? How Stolas uses it and what his job is? To be fair though, this is a clip of the second episode, so hopefully the questions will be answered in episode 1. I also hope that moving forward, this book won’t just be used as a portal device and nothing else, because that’s just wasting potential. Anyway, the first thing I want to say is that this scene made me roll my eyes, once again the main characters are being idiots for the sake of the plot. I mean come on, Octavia was RIGHT behind them in the same room! I get they were distracted but they have no security? No cameras? They couldn’t hear her dang footsteps?? But whatever I guess. We see that Blitz keeps the grimoire in a safe, and my biggest problem I have is that….well how does Octavia know the code to it? She probably never interacted with Blitz, but perhaps she knew from Stolas but…..what does it matter if Stolas knows the code? Blitz is the one keeping hold of the book, and they lend it to each other anyway on the full moon when they get it on. Also….that’s another thing. We know that Stolas gets the book for a certain amount of time on the full moon, so why couldn’t Octavia just wait until it was his turn with the grimoire? Why go through all the trouble sneaking in IMP headquarters? Guess she couldn’t wait that long. I don’t blame her, escaping from an emotional abusive household doesn’t seem so rash in her case. All I’m ganna say is that I hope the relationship with her dad and even mother is dealt with well, parents divorcing and verbal and emotional abuse are huge hefty subjects, and I really hope they portray that well. Though……I’m pressing X to doubt. I hope they deep dive into Stella and just not make her this one note yelling bitch but again…..press X to doubt. An ending with these three characters who is a family falling apart…I’d like to think they acknowledge they’re broken and all three of them put the effort in to fix it, ya know….something complex, instead of just making Stolas out to be the good guy who ends up with Octavia.

So yeah, that’s all I have to say on this clip. I can’t say it’s…..promising, like…I’ll be honest, the episode with Stolas and Paimon looks far more interesting than this one, but here’s to hoping the writing and storytelling has improved, or at the very LEAST, season 2 becomes promising. I just want the storytelling to be better, as well as good character development, and character development that actually GOES somewhere, not just being thrown out the window the next episode like season 1. Of course I also want Loona and Millie to get development and actually be defined characters, they’ve been shoved to the back in the entirety of season 1 and I really really REALLY hope season 2 isn’t just “The Stolitz and Moxxie show”. Hopes are still low, but I’ll definitely be checking the first episode out. Thank you for reading, and tell me your thoughts on the clip and season 2! I’ll see you next time! 👋💕

#vivziepop critical #spindlehorse critical #vivziepop #anti vivziepop #vivienne medrano #helluva boss critical #helluva boss #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss loona #helluva boss Octavia #helluva boss Millie #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critique #helluva boss Stolas

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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beepboopkek · 5 months ago

Text

— Hidden Surprises (M!Reader)

Including: Kamisato Ayato x AMAB!Reader afab version has been posted on both tumblr and ao3 cw: !! NSFW !!, amab!reader, established relationship, bottom!sub!reader, top!dom!ayato, fluff and smut, pwp but barely, smacking (paddle), lots of teasing/flirting/kissing, mirror s3x, cursing, d1rty talk, n1pple play, slight dom/sub undertones, implied dom drop from ayato, mayb a little unrealistic s3x idk, AFTERCARE!!!! w/c: approx 2.9k words, might change since i make edits while posting a/n: after 8 goddamn drafts of this fic i managed to finally finish it,, im like at a 50/50 opinion on this but honestly i jsu wanted to get the brainrot out of my system... sorry for the long absence :sob:.. also i tried changing up my writing style a little, id love any form of feedback so feel free to leave a comment :D NSFW BELOW THE CUT

“You've been staring for a while.” Ayato’s voice broke you out of your thoughts as your eyes met his violet ones and you smiled.

“Oh, don't mind me. I’m simply admiring the view.” Your voice had a teasing lilt as you replied, still boring your eyes into his as you took another sip of your drink.

Ayato simply raised a brow at you, before moving his curious gaze to the half-empty bottle of Sake left beside you— immediately bringing out a hand to drag the bottle away from your reach.

“Hey! I was drinking that—!” You tried to snatch back the bottle like a cat that got its toy taken away but unfortunately for you, Ayato was too fast.

“Oh, I know.” Your husband only infuriatingly smiled back at you, relishing in the adorable pout on your face as you folded your arms in annoyance.

“I apologise, I want you to be somewhat sober tonight.”

You gasped, placing a hand on your chest, and giving him an offended look.

“I am sober! I only had two glasses.”

“Mhmm. Whatever you say.”

“Why do you need me to be sober anyway?”

Ayato leaned towards you, resting his hand on a closed palm. He tilted his head and looked at you with nothing short of pure adoration before saying, “I have a surprise for you.”

Ayato and the word “surprise” never really mixed well for you. The last time he had a "surprise," it involved a strange hotpot that left you feeling queasy for days.

Ah.

Bingo.

“If it's another one of your horrible food concoctions, count me out.”

Ayato chuckled, a wide smile spreading across his face as he shook his head lightly. “Hehe, not to worry, dear. It's something you'll like.”

Well, that certainly wasn't going to stop you from teasing him, though.

Ayato recovered quickly, pulling back his face of smug satisfaction as he smiled.

“ … Tell me what it is then.”

“Well, it wouldn't be much of a surprise then, would it?”

You pouted at him again and he only chuckled in response, giving you a coy smile.

Two can play that game.

You quietly praised each archon for giving you this golden opportunity as the perfect distraction appeared without any effort on your part.

You reached out to place your hand on his knee under the table, pretending to swirl the non-existent wine in your cup with the other so that no one would suspect a thing.

Ayato's eyes flickered to yours for a split second before continuing the conversation as if nothing had happened.

You smiled to yourself as you began to stroke the inside of his thigh with your thumb, inching your hand higher and higher.

He'd never admit it, but you could feel the way his leg shook ever so slightly at the intimate contact.

Rascal.

“I apologise, my husband seems to be getting tired.”

You looked at the guest and gave him an apologetic smile although you were anything but that.

The both of you quickly bid your goodbyes to more guests as you made your way out, your husband almost dragging you by the hand.

Right as you were about to board the carriage to make your way back up to the Kamisato estate, Ayato pulled you against his chest to whisper into your ear—

“I'm going to ruin you tonight.”

…

Ayato kept a firm hand on your thigh the entire ride back, occasionally squeezing it while conversing with you as if nothing was happening.

As if he didn't make your entire body shudder with just a sentence.

“Open your eyes.”

You did just that, adjusting to the sudden brightness as you took in the sight before you.

A large rectangular mirror with an ornate gold frame with the Kamisato crest on the top, set on the wall in front of your bed.

Archons.

“ … It's beautiful.”

Your eyes met Ayato's observant gaze in the mirror as he spoke again, "Well, what do you think?"

Ayato smiled against your ear, kissing the side of your head affectionately.

“But, why—”

“I knew you would like it.”

Your breath hitched in embarrassment as your gaze travelled the entire expanse of the mirror, your ears burning with the overwhelming urge to hide. You could see every inch of your exposed body reflected at you, making your heart race.

His hands remained steady on your thighs, grounding you as he squeezed them again and cut you off with a kiss to the side of your neck as he looked at you through the mirror.

“I want you to see how mesmerising you look.”

His hands travelled along the outline of your torso as you waited for him to continue, “I want you to see what I see.”

That's when his left hand reached back onto the bed, fumbling momentarily before he brought something forward. You glanced down, curiosity piqued, and saw that he held a—

Oh.“I thought you’d be more romantic with your surprise.”

A paddle. With a tiny heart cut out in the middle of it.

“Well, I’ve always believed in doing things in a more unorthodox way.” The mischievous glint in his eye told you there was more to this.

Ayato’s hand, which was still on your thigh, pulled it back a little further. He gently swept the paddle against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, the polished wood providing a smooth glide.

“The rules are simple,”

“All that bravado in the evening, where is it now?”

“One, do not look away from the mirror.”

Ayato’s finger traced the heart imprint left on your thigh as he continued,

“— and two, do not close your eyes.”

Ayato’s hands traced the outline of your body as he silently awaited your consent. The silence was that of comfort, you felt relaxed knowing you could opt out of this at any moment and your husband wouldn’t hold it against you.

You smirked.

“… Ruin me, Commissioner.”

You felt a sharp exhale on your shoulder as Ayato’s hands moved with renewed purpose all over your body. You felt his hand creep towards your chest, fondling one side as he tweaked the nipple between his fingers, your low moans now filling the room.

He latched his lips onto the column of your neck as he begrudgingly left your chest to trail his hand towards your cock. His other hand was still holding onto the paddle that rested against your thigh, unmoving and unfaltering in making its presence known.

A wave of relief washed over you as his fingers wrapped around you, your eyes closed in pure bliss as you moaned in pleasure, locking your hands behind his neck and—

A smack to the inside of your thigh snapped your eyes right back open in shock.

Oh. Right.“Eyes on the mirror.”

You nodded fervently as Ayato went back to drawing out lazy pumps, his thumb dipping into the slit of your head as his sharp gaze stayed glued to your body through the mirror.

You glanced down to your thighs in the mirror to see a red imprint of the paddle on your skin and looked back up to meet Ayato’s heated gaze, a coy smirk playing into his voice as he spoke again.

“Enjoy the show, dear.”

You watched in a daze as your husband coated his fingers with the lube, sliding his now wet middle and ring finger down, circling your entrance before dipping the tips inside you as you shook in anticipation. His hand flexed as he moved his fingers deeper, lightly thrusting them in and out as he searched for your sensitive spot with experienced precision.

He pushed his fingers to the knuckle— Your moans mingled with his heavy breaths. You pushed yourself back against his chest in hopes of alleviating some of the tension in his pants.

His voice was breathless as he spoke in your ear,

“Do you like it when I do this?” and he curled his fingers inside you, making you moan again.

Smack!

Eyes opened wide, you jolted back up and your orgasm washed over you immediately as Ayato continued to pump his fingers in and out to help you ride it out, his hand leaving the paddle in favour of stroking you as you twitched in his hold.

“Fuck—”

You panted, struggling to keep your eyes open. Ayato stilled as his left hand let go of your sensitive cock to grab your chin, forcing you to look sideways as he kissed you deeply.

Your lips parted with his as you both caught your breath— your husband gently removing his fingers from you and wiping them onto the cloth laid next to him.

Ayato moved you a little forward as he unzipped his pants, pulling his cock from underneath you so that it poked out between your soft thighs.

Archons, he could get used to this view.

But he couldn't.

He wanted you just as bad as you wanted him.

He was impatient, haphazardly stroking on more lube on his cock as he aligned himself with you, slowly pushing in as you both moaned in relief.

Ayato curled a hand around your waist to hold you in place as he set a rhythm of short and quick thrusts, latching his mouth onto your neck again as he bit down to stifle his moans.

“Ayato, please-”

A resonant smack to your sensitive nipple is all that you get in response as you immediately plaster your eyes back on the mirror.

The hand curled around your waist twisted downwards to stroke you again, your thighs shaking at the rush of overstimulation. You sighed in pure bliss before you abruptly felt his hand moving away and a series of smacks on your sensitive nipples.

Fuck. You didn't even notice you stopped looking at the mirror.

He unlatched himself from your neck, leaving deep imprints of his teeth as he raised his head to pull at your earlobe with his teeth.

“You know I don't like repeating myself.”

His pace grew erratic as you held onto him, heavy moans mingling with his silent ones as tears slipped from your eyes.

“Come with me.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull as Ayato spoke into your ear. You barely registered the tip of the paddle hitting your thigh again or how your husband pulled out just in time to finish on your lower back— your legs trembling as you clenched around nothing.

Holy shit.

“Oh? Did you miss me?”

“ … Hi.”

You spoke as you turned your head to meet his lips in a soft kiss.

“Hello.”

You got up on shaking limbs, turning your body over so that you were straddling his legs.

Ayato looked at you questioningly, tilting his head. You simply kissed the mole under his lip as you replied, “I wanted to see your face.”

You kissed the tip of his nose this time, “Yes.”

He smiled, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his gaze lingered on all the hickeys he had left, his face dropping a little.

“How are you feeling?”

“Great. A little sore but I'll be fine.”

You leaned down to kiss the mole on his collarbone, lingering there to leave a love bite of your own.

There was a pause, you knew this was when he would start questioning himself.

“Was I—?”

Before he could finish his question, you captured his lips in a soft kiss, caressing the back of his head with your hands as you gently massage it.

“No. It was perfect. In every sense of the word, I enjoyed it.”

Ayato smiled at you again.

There was a comfortable silence after that, the both of you taking turns to wash out each other's hair and backs, sneaking small kisses in between as you giggled.

You dried each other off before your husband laid you down on the bed, procuring an ointment seemingly out of nowhere as he applied it to the bruises on your thighs and chest.

You laid down on the soft sheets and felt the energy drain from your bones, giving Ayato one last peck on the lips before you drifted off to sleep.

“I love you.”

He kissed the top of your head lovingly, and if you were any more tired, you would've missed his response.

“I find myself falling for you more and more every single day. Goodnight, dear.”

#kamisato ayato smut #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x you #kamisato ayato x reader #self insert x canon

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