#mentions of: bribery

[aspenforest732]

Bello Licentiae Chapter 4: Discoveries

Summary:

tw: arrest, mentions of: bribery, child endangerment, child abuse, and neglect Akira meets the League properly this time 'text' JSL Text thoughts

As Akira walked up to their door, they belatedly realized they didn't make enough onigiri to feed ten people. Maybe they already ate? With a huff, they jimmied the door and placed their crutches a little harder as they walked through the genkan to signal who entered. The smell of miso soup wafted out from the living room tinted with alcohol.

"Aki-tan!" Toga cheered, running full tilt at Akira out of the living room.

Startled, Akira pivoted to the side and whipped out a crutch against her shins. They blanched and quickly signed, ' Sorry! Wasn't expecting that, ' as they helped her up.

Dabi and Twice cackled from the living room as Magne ducked through the doorway, concern written on her features. "Are you kids okay? She didn't stab you, right?"

Gaze flicking between the two, Akira shifted slightly away from the towering woman. 'I'm fine, and no, Knife Dancer just startled me. I brought onigiri, although I wasn't expecting this many people, ' Akira signed awkwardly.

"Good, we told you to avoid that at least the first time," Magne gently scolded her. Toga pouted but let Magne herd her back into the living room. "My JSL is a little rusty, but that's a cute call sign for Toga. Come on, we'll introduce everyone properly now that you're one of us."

The first time? Akira hesitantly followed, giving a small, awkward wave as they eyed the cramped space. Shigaraki sat with his back against the closer armrest of the couch. Twice sat closest to him and Dabi on the far side. Toga flopped in between them as they sobered up under Magne's disapproving glare.

Kurogiri leaned lightly against a tiered cart with multiple types of alcohol and mixers set up by the sliding glass doors. Magne grabbed a fancy pink drink off it and settled on one of the floor cushions between a tense Aoyama and Mr. Compress. He tipped a cup of tea to her that was definitely not from the apartment. Spinner stood brooding on the far wall while looking out onto the balcony, which was empty of even stray birds.

Akira froze, lightly worrying their lip as all eyes turned to them. After a moment, realization crossed Dabi's face and he stood up. "Double Trouble, off. Stabby, slide over by Hand Job." Shigaraki bristled at the nickname but just flipped him off as Toga slid over.

"Okay," Twice piped up. "Fuck off!"

He scrambled off the couch when Dabi swirled cerulean fire from his hand. Akira flinched, taking half step back. ' It's fine, I can manage for today, ' they hurriedly signed.

"Pipsqueak, you're fine," Dabi drawled as he settled in the middle of the couch. "They're just here to officially meet you." His calculating eyes promised a conversation after they left, but his body language held the protective tension they'd come to recognize whenever he spoke of the League.

Akira hesitantly moved to the couch and set their crutches against the side furthest from Shigaraki. Dabi lightly rested an arm across their shoulders without weighing them down. They let themself lean into the grounding touch while looking around at the assembled villains.

After a long moment, Kurogiri broke the silence, "Would you like some tea?"

Akira nodded and busied themself with taking the yaki onigiri out of their backpack. They set the bag of treats on the low table next to a pot of miso soup and unzipped their dedicated medical compartment for some cold compresses. Magne introduced herself with the call sign Polaris, Aoyama said Sparkles was fine, Mr. Compress with Marbles, Shigaraki with Calamity, Spinner with Gecko, Kurogiri with Black Fog, Toga liked Knife Dancer, and Twice with Double Trouble.

"Are you okay, Aki-tan?" Toga asked, leaning forward to look at them more closely past Dabi.

Akira nodded and gestured for Dabi to explain as they unhooked the lower part of their pants and adjusted their braces to hold the compresses in place.

"Their family's a bunch of bastards like my old man, so they need pain management," Dabi said bluntly. Akira snorted but nodded again as they felt the room refocus on them. Sitting back up, they noticed Aoyama in particular looking at them strangely. He quickly looked away, taking interest in his own tea.

"Why'd you main hero brat if your family's so awful?" Shigaraki spat out.

Akira took a long swig of tea before signing, ' Justice. Or revenge, depending on how you look at it. ' Chamomile. Good for calming nerves. After a moment of focusing on the warmth from the mug, they added, ' All for One offered the resources and quirks I need to carry that out. His solution would've resulted in the least deaths and least innocents and civilians in danger. '

"My dear, we would certainly like to help you take down the Inoue. I think I speak for all of us when I say that from what we've seen of you, they must be truly horrific individuals," Mr. Compress said.

Akira shook their head, ' There's not much you can do right now without the Doctor and All for One. They have the quirks I need for testing the viability of my Plan A. Since Wildfire said everyone was here, I'm assuming you don't have a way to contact the Doctor? '

"No," Kurogiri said before Dabi finished interpreting. Akira looked over to him in surprise even as the mist briefly flickered and shifted. After a moment, he continued, "Will you require contact with the Doctor before you start working with us?"

Akira swallowed thickly around the lump in their throat and took another sip of tea. Eyeing the League, they tried not to linger too long on Dabi. Who knows what they'd discovered about his situation. ' What would you want me to do? All for One never got to specifics. '

"Sparkles told us about you and the green brat's habit of cataloguing peoples' quirks, strengths, and weaknesses," Shigaraki said, standing up with a gaming console hanging from its wrist strap. "Bring us some of your assessments on the students and teachers, and we can talk."

Akira briefly froze before letting their now-shaking hands set the cup of tea on the low table. ' I'm not giving you information that could get them killed ,' Akira signed stiffly as they tried to hide the tremors. ' You can't forcefully take them, either, since they're heavily encrypted. '

Shigaraki scowled and started scratching at his neck, drawing Kurogiri closer. Akira cocked their head as they recognized the agitation and the scar patterns. With a glance at Dabi, they dug back into their pack and pulled out moisturizer. ' Pink Queen insisted I add it to my kit. This should help Hand... Calamity, ' Akira explained as Dabi gave an amused snort at their slip.

Kurogiri shifted back to them and asked, "What is that?"

' Moisturizing cream? Pretty sure they make ones specifically for dehydration quirks, too. I thought the scar patterns looked a bit off for disintegration... ' Akira's fingers twitched towards their notebooks, but they just made a mental note to correct their entries later. As Kurogiri helped Shigaraki apply the cream, Akira was struck by a thought. They reached back into their backpack and fished out two of their notebooks.

Aoyama's eyes went wide as he stiffened, and Spinner finally looked up with interest. His voice dripped with contempt, "So what, now you're going to help us?"

Akira waved him off as they flipped to the entry for Shigaraki. All the villain entries were in plain text, so they just erased his quirk description and scribbled down a few notes next to questions about the scar patterns and lingering effects. ' I have entries like this for each of you. I can give my analysis, and if you answer my questions, I can tailor it more. ' Akira flipped to Toga's entry and handed it over.

She pouted, "What do you mean, 'severe fluctuation repercussions?'"

'You don't drink blood on a regular basis, right?' At Toga's nod, they continued, 'Quirks fueled by blood require daily intake. Otherwise, you go into starvation mode, which negatively affects your physical and mental health. You wouldn't need much, only twelve ounces or so once you get used to not needing to gorge yourself.'

"Do me!" Twice said eagerly before his expression under the mask darkened. "We don't need to know more about our cursed quirk," he snapped.

Letting Toga keep the notebook for now, Akira hesitantly signed, ' I was actually hoping to get your help at some point. I'm trying to figure out an aspect of my own quirk that is similar to yours and Ectoplasm's. My clones should theoretically be able to use my quirk, but I'm struggling to get them to activate it. Your quirk is one of the few Stranger primaries I've seen trained. Knife Dancer's is another, but blood quirks work very differently. ' They passed their nomu notebook to Dabi to give to Kurogiri, who watched them with an unreadable expression obscured by the haze. ' Calamity's entry is later in the notebook Knife Dancer has, but this is what I have on you and other nomu. '

"Kurogiri's not a nomu," Shigaraki snapped, but he seemed marginally more relaxed with the moisturizer shining on his neck.

Akira cocked their head, ' You're listed as one, though, in All for One's files. I didn't look much into your file since I was pretty familiar with your quirk, but... ' Taking in the League's shock, including Kurogiri, they frowned. ' You really didn't know? How far back can you remember? '

Kurogiri hesitated then his mist started to distort and whip about, exposing flashes of a more solid form underneath. Shigaraki stumbled back as Magne leapt to her feet and took an uncertain step forward, hand outstretched. After a moment, the mist settled and Kurogiri answered flatly, "I can recall very little before All for One. Approximately fourteen years ago."

Akira squinted at Kurogiri, trying to make out the flash of a face they saw underneath. ' We can try to find out who your base is from breaking down your quirk but seeing your face would probably help. '

"I..." The mist distorted and stretched as Kurogiri clutched his head. Leaning forward supported by Dabi's arm, Akira could just make out ashy, tanned skin and fluffy blue hair before it settled again, and Kurogiri stiffly straightened. "That will be unnecessary."

Something about the blue hair tugged at the back of their mind, but Akira brushed it to the side as a wren darted onto the balcony, landing to rest on the railing. Their phone dinged a reminder. ' The arrest should be happening soon. I don't know if you want everyone here...? ' Akira trailed off, glancing between Dabi and the others.

Dabi huffed and started playing with a small flame over his knuckles, "You should go before someone sees you. You've met Pipsqueak now, so fuck off."

"Bye, Aki-tan," Toga waved, tossing back their notebook before she followed the group through Kurogiri's gate. After a moment, Kurogiri gave them the nomu notebook back then disappeared through his own gate.

Akira slumped back into the couch, utterly drained. Curling up, they switched on the news as Dabi lazily rolled a glare their way. "So, All for One?"

Akira silently groaned and shifted to lean against Dabi, carefully avoiding his skin grafts. As they explained what happened after All for One took them, Dabi carded his hands through their hair and awkwardly rubbed gentle circles on their back. As Akira finished explaining why they couldn't go to the heroes they otherwise trusted, Dabi froze and stared at the screen.

Embarrassed heat flooded their cheeks as Akira remembered why they'd requested the weekend off campus in the first place. They jolted up, signing a quick ' sorry ' and setting up the onigiri and tea. Tsukauchi, Fat Gum, and Present Mic led Endeavor in quirk suppressant cuffs out of his agency while sporting a few burns that seemed mild from what they could see. Eraser slipped away with a flicker of movement the reporters didn't comment on. Endeavor was clearly fuming and glared daggers at the arresting heroes and any who dared come close to the group as he was roughly maneuvered into Tsukauchi's patrol car.

Dabi stared at the screen as the reporters started speculating on the charges and whether the people arresting Endeavor were under some kind of quirk. Akira hesitantly started to reach out but retracted as they realized he wasn't aware of his surroundings at the moment. Instead, they poured a bowl of soup and pressed it into his hands. His shaking hands slowly slowed as warmth seeped into them.

Once Dabi's fingers curled around the bowl instead of simply supporting it, Akira shuffled a little closer and draped a cool, damp towel on his neck. Eventually, the news cut to a press conference hosted by Tsukauchi and Fat Gum giving an overview of the charges of child abuse, neglect, bribery, and child endangerment. Dabi finally let out a shaky breath and set the soup down before reaching a hand up to the towel and glancing over to Akira.

"Hey, Pipsqueak," he said with a rough voice. "It's finally happening, huh?"

' Yeah, ' Akira smiled back, ' it finally is. '

Both jumped as Akira's phone dinged several times in a few seconds. Unlocking it, Akira snorted and showed Dabi.

flamingo: did you know about this?

what did he mean four counts?

child endangerment not manslaughter?

is Toya alive?

Sorry, he probably changed his name

reaper: yes, all Endeavor's children

Akira hesitated, looking to Dabi. "Pretty bird can figure it out himself," he drawled.

flamingo: he's got a blue fire quirk

probably some scarring from Sekoto Peak

Dabi opened his phone as Akira muted theirs, the chimes grating on their nerves. Akira looked over and gave a small, lopsided grin.

wildfire changed unknown's name to flamingo

wildfire: stop spamming my friend

flamingo: ???

Who's this?

Wait

Are you the sometimes nice one?

Dabi rolled his eyes and flipped Akira off as they silently snickered.

wildfire: mcnugget, the don't spam me was implied

flamingo: *gasp* I thought I was a flamingo!

When did I get downgraded to a chicken nugget?!

...or is that an upgrade for you? 😉

I'm more of a fried chicken man myself, but I don't judge

Akira groaned and lightly shoved his upper arm before teasing, ' Kami, why did I think this would be a good idea. '

Dabi didn't quite cackle but it was close enough for Akira to relax back into the couch. Keigo could be a good distraction for now, the bi disaster continuing to flirt with their roommate from the rolled eyes and light blush creeping onto his cheeks. The Mad Banquet group chat, which now included Shoto, had a video call going, but Akira let the others handle it since they hadn't been tagged.

Akira spent the rest of the day making sure Dabi ate and felt safe while he made poor attempts to flirt with Keigo. As the last beams of sunlight filtered through the doors, Dabi turned to Akira with a serious frown. "You should have someone in your network you can talk to about this. If you can't get in touch with Fat Gum, you should talk to Aizawa on Monday at the latest. You're not doing this without someone on the outside."

Akira nodded, letting out a breath in a woosh. ' Thanks. I probably shouldn't be late to my own send-off. Don't wait up. '

The much more tolerable night air still left a light sheen of sweat on Akira as they took the slightly longer way to base. They passed a few familiar faces on the mostly barren streets and stopped to reassure them that yes, they were fine but no they wouldn't be around as often.

As Akira made their way deeper into Blue Fang territory, the hair on the back of their neck rose, and Akira made a point to not check over their shoulder every few steps. They adjusted their path to be more directly on Eraser Head's patrol route for the night, but the feeling of eyes on them only increased. About halfway to base, Akira purposefully stumbled and checked the rooftops just in time to see a familiar shadow duck back.

With a heavy sigh, Akira ducked into an alleyway and gestured at the roof with one of their crutches. ' I know you're there, Eraser. Why are you following me? '

Eraser lowered himself into the alley past a nesting pigeon that cooed at being disturbed by his capture weapon with a huff. "I wanted to check how you were doing after the arrest today.'

Akira rolled their eyes, ' You would just ask if that was the case. You gave me a phone for a reason. ' They rolled some of the tension form their shoulders, wincing slightly at the crackles.

"You're walking alone through gang territory – yes it's your own, but still – at night," Eraser stared flatly. "Is there a reason someone isn't with you?"

Akira shrugged, clock ticking in their head as they tried to act casual. ' Roommate's had a rough day, and base isn't that far. Didn't think I needed someone with me 24/7. '

Eraser sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You were kidnapped by the League, which has a long-distance warper. One of the conditions for you leaving campus was that you wouldn't be alone."

Akira bristled, gaze snapping up into a glare. ' I'm fully capable of getting away or at a minimum getting help! Why do you think I stick close to your patrol routes? If something happens, I just warp to a roof and start hopping to where I see or hear you. ' Aizawa snapped his mouth shut and stared at Akira. They pulled back slightly at his confusion. ' Was that not obvious? Sticking to your routes is a roundabout way to get to any safe house, so I assumed you'd notice. '

"Are you alright, kiddo?" a familiar voice called from the mouth of the alley.

Pivoting around, Akira smiled brightly at Cho as ey eyed the pair. They signed ' safe adult ' and eye relaxed. Turning to the hero, Akira signed, ' Just checking in. Not a great look to onlookers for an adult to be towering over a child. '

"Weren't ey the night cashier for the corner store?" Aizawa asked, eyes darkening slightly as Cho froze.

Akira sighed, ' Yes, and ey've helped many people out of bad situations with that trick. I didn't trust you that much yet, so ey got me out of a compromising situation. ' They gestured for em to go on, repeating the sign for ' safe adult ' but pushing it forward slightly. Catching on, Cho nodded and continued on eir way.

Taking in Eraser's slightly more vigilant than usual posture and tension, Akira sighed. ' Would it make you feel better for me to ask who's available to walk me there? '

"I'd feel better if I walked you there," Eraser said, expression tightening as he peered at them. "I'm not losing you again."

' And what would you do with that information? ' Akira asked slowly and pulled their phone out.

"What makes you think I don't already know its location?" Eraser shot back, crossing his arms.

Akira gave him an incredulous look. ' It hasn't been raided yet. We recognize the delicate balance between helping the community and stopping crime, so we give you the courtesy of not putting the decision in your hands when possible. '

Eraser rattled off base's address.

Akira froze in their one-handed typing of a message to Boss and slid their phone back into their pocket. ' How long have you known? '

"The trafficking investigation," Eraser said simply. "I needed to know who would be handing off one of my kids, and watching your base was the logical choice."

Just over a month and nothing's happened... Akira quickly deleted their message to Boss and instead informed her of the development. ' And why haven't you initiated a raid since then? There would've been sufficiently illegal deals for you to have sufficient cause several times over by now. '

"I'm aware of Fat Gum's arrangement with gangs in Esuha," Eraser started, eyes darting to their phone as it lit up. "I'd like to work towards something similar with the Blue Fang, and he's been advising me on gaining their trust."

Glancing between him and their phone, Akira eventually replied, ' Boss wants to meet you. She's not happy about your spying but understands the complexity of the situation we were in. You're fine escorting me back, but you're to stay on the ground. While we're in base, refer to me as Mortis. '

Eraser raised an eyebrow but nodded and started to lead the way. "Your hero name is your street name?"

Akira smirked slightly, ' Of course, that way people from around here can immediately recognize who I am. It's just Mortis, though. ' Their expression fell at the reminder, 'Umbra is the name my twin and I picked out. '

Akira occasionally caught glimpses of runners and muscle spreading out in a net formation as they drew closer to base. A glance at Eraser told them he noticed it, too, as his neutral expression ticked into a slight frown and his gait became a little more tightly coiled. Mortis hoped the talk wouldn't come to that, but they couldn't blame Boss for being cautious of who would be entering and milling about the area.

As they entered base, the few heads in the room turned to scrutinize them. Ayaka and Azumi were fortunately absent, only Haru, Isao, Au, and the night's bartender, Itoh, present.

"Eraser Head, Mortis," Au started, pushing off from the wall. "Boss will meet you in her office. Mortis, would you feel more comfortable having Haru or Isao with you?" As Mortis started to protest, Au narrowed her eyes. "You're getting one of them, nonnegotiable."

Mortis huffed and signed for Haru. He was Quirkless, so Erasure would be of limited use if it came down to a fight. He startled but gave a warm smile to Mortis and a calculating look to Eraser. Placing himself on the opposite side of Mortis, Haru's suspicion was met with a steady, protective look from the hero. Mortis sighed and pushed on, leading the group to Boss' office as Au joined behind them.

"I hope you understand our position, Eraser Head," Boss said as Mortis and Eraser sat down. "We do our best to respect your boundaries as an underground hero, and here you come knocking at our door with the threat of dogs hot at your heels."

She put up a hand as he opened his mouth. "That's not to say I do not also understand your position, but this puts our tenuous relationship on rocky ground. Up until now, I have respected Mortis' need to keep your personal affairs private for the sake of their relations. But that was always contingent on you or the information not posing a threat to my people."

Boss leaned forward, hands forming a pyramid over her desk as her eyes searched his face with a dangerous glint. "So, tell me, Shouta Aizawa," Eraser stiffened near imperceptibly at his civilian name, "are you a threat?"

Notes:

comfort? In one of my hurt/comfort fics? Unheard of XD Fun fact: the hand print in Akira's design is specifically to leave a mark from necrosis. That no longer lines up with my story's canon but I've kept the design element because it's a nice distinctive feature that's easier to replicate and recognize than their eyes. Along those lines, I should technically warm up their skin tone since the initial ashiness was (I think) from anemia due to their constant fluctuation at the start of Mortem ad Wrens, but meh Note for the Twice has DID tag: his characterization does start out as pretty canonical because everyone is off-kilter. I have a whole section in my Characters document for alters with triggers, personality, etc. so it does move to better representation as the story goes on. I guess another fun fact: my initial deep dive into DID was because of a Big Hero 6 fanfiction. The author wanted to give people a better look at what at least a 2-alter system looks like irl, and it piqued my interest. Since then, I've been more conscientious of doing research before writing about anything even in fanfiction. Me: oh we'll have a nice lil scene reinforcing the positive aspects of their relationship with Dabi Also me: takes like 1600 words to get the two alone

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[katoska]

Theory why Betelgeuse left Lydia's side to "go to the little boys' room" and took over for Richard at his booth for a bit:

Yes, he could have dealt with Jeremy without playing dress-up and taking over Richard's job, and didn't have to enable Richy to get a little more family time in the process. They could have saved Astrid just fine without that, so it seems unnecessary, for him to do that. OOC, even. Except

2) Richard wouldn't owe Betelgeuse a big favor for said taking over of his job and enabling the extra family time with Lydia and Astrid. Also, ofc, for saving his daughter from trading places with Jeremy. Betelgeuse did all that at great cost to himself: A Code 699 violation (see screenshot of transcript from reddit below) gets you extra time working as a civil servant, it gets your topside privileges revoked, and it voids any marriage you entered into, so his contract for payment from/marriage to Lydia was meaningless (well, if it had been a marriage certificate rather than just an agreement to get married in the future. and if he'd actually signed it. and then possibly only if he'd signed it before entering the Netherworld so there'd be a marriage TO void, rather than... not signing it at all... *sigh* he totally burned that half-signed and not-yet-binding contract himself bc he understood she wasn't ready to marry him yet, is what I'm saying, but I digress).

1) Lydia wouldn't have gotten closure for her ex's death without it. Closure which she sorely needed, because the fact that Richard's body was never found plus her seeming inability to see his ghost (Richard: "I know you two can't see me, but I check in on you all the time") add up to her having been in denial of his death. She couldn't see his ghost because she really really did not want to see proof that he was dead. So now she gets to move on from him. Which is very convenient for B. Especially as Richard is unlikely to be able to visit her anytime soon even now that Lydia has accepted his death and should be able to see him again, but I'm getting to that.

Still 2): Anyway, B doesn't do favors. He does business. If people are allowed to take over for others at their jobs in the afterlife, but those jobs are also a form of punishment where you have to "do time" at them for a specific duration, then those work hours are a currency that you can give away or trade. You can, if you find someone who is willing, get someone to do your time for you (hell, you can even get a naive Breather to trade their actual Life for your afterlife existence).

So yeah, I don't think Betelgeuse took over Richard's booth just out of the goodness of his heart. I think they made a deal, one that means that B will be topside again much sooner than the Deetz' will expect so he can get back to trying to seduce Richard's ex (hey, Richard always supported lost causes, so... 😆), while Richard will be stuck at work, unable to visit the Living for a long and unspecified amount of time. Not that his family's gonna notice, bc they never used to see him visit them, anyway.

And yeah, according to someone from reddit who decyphered that page in the Handbook, there's a bit about how the Deceased who violated Code 699 has to cease Trading, if applicable.

But I think that only goes for post-conviction of the crime, not as an automatic consequence of the crime, as B was also still able to visit the Living World to attempt the church wedding. Which, actually, is yet more evidence that this latest marriage attempt was more for the sake of declaring his feelings and testing the waters (and showing off, and getting rid at the competition) than him trying to actually get, and stay, married. Cause the church wedding would have been voided by a conviction, too.

Anyway, that's my theory on B's incredibly considerate, and therefore incredibly suspicious, detour to Richard's booth and letting Richard have his heroic moment.

And tbf, Lydia and Astrid are Richard's family. So it wouldn't even be unreasonable to expect Richard to pay for the legal trouble B got into from saving them. Like, I'm sure he'd have done it anyway, but if B can pass on that buck then ofc he's gonna.

[cerealmonster15]

my twst ocs and some other guys are there too

[poured-my-past-down-the-drain]

ahahahahahahahaahha

no I'm not.

<3

– Tubbo.

damn guess all these kisses will just have to go nowhere,,, what a shame,,, if only you went to terapia so they’d go where they deserve 🤗🥰👍

[lauralot89]

Actual things that happen in the 1897 Dracula novel, without context:

A character has ominous nightmares and attributes them to eating too much paprika

Dracula first appears wearing a fake beard

The person he was trying to fool with the fake beard immediately realizes Dracula and Beard Guy are the same man, due to both having really firm handshakes

We are told parrots are immortal unless fatally wounded

A Texan cowboy opens fire on a bat flitting around a window, and lodges a bullet in the wall of an occupied room

A woman is called a polyandrist for receiving blood transfusions from multiple men

An incorrectly addressed telegram leads to two deaths, multiple druggings, and several children being assaulted

Dracula, while trying to maintain a low profile, takes a lovely trip to the zoo and freaks out the animals so badly that he gets mentioned in a newspaper article

The one character who knows anything about vampires spends a good two-thirds of the book refusing to talk about vampires

Dracula went to Satan's Witchcraft Academy and somehow this is only brought up in two throwaway lines

A character gets stuck inside a circle of communion wafer crumbs

A major plot point of the book is Dracula (who was said to be a brilliant scholar and has the strength of twenty mortal men) realizing he can move boxes without human help

Someone is referred to as "manifestly a prig of the first water"

Two characters have a hobby of reading train schedules

A hospital lets a mental patient escape to see what will happen

A character starts vomiting up feathers from eating whole birds

A doctor refuses to give a medical diagnosis and instead makes a speech about growing corn

Dracula impersonates another character just by wearing the same clothes, despite being taller and visibly much older. This deception is successful.

A character "cleans" a room by eating all the insects in it

Suddenly: rats. Thousands of them.

The heroes progress in their efforts through "the wonderful power of money," i.e., bribery

Dracula has three other vampires in his castle. Their relation to him is never explained, nor are any of them named.

A character insists his salvation depends on having a pet cat

Dracula is thwarted by flowers on more than one occasion

A group of vampires stand in the hall outside a man's bedroom, talking loudly about their plans to eat him. When he comes to the door to confront them, they run away laughing

Dracula wears an unfashionable hat and gets roasted for it

A group of Romanians encounter a disheveled, shouting man and, "seeing from his violent demeanour that he was English, they [give] him a ticket for the furthest station on the way thither that the train reached."

A boat crashes due to Dracula having the munchies

A wolf is thrown through a window and immediately runs off, confused and covered in glass

Dracula makes a bed

[bataddictedloony]

So rewatching Legend Of Korra after rewatching ATLA for the bejillionth time and uuuh.

episode 11, season 4 “Kuvira’s Gambit”, you guys. Around the 19 minute mark, Bataar Jr says some very interesting things. Stuff that Israel supporters have been saying a lot.

just, yanno, give it a watch in case you wanted a reminder of which side of history you might be on.

[dwaekkicidal]

𝖪𝗂𝗇𝗄𝗍𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋: '𝖫𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖱𝖾𝖽' ༄࿔ 𝖡.𝖢.

⤷ Size Kink | Stomach Bulge | Teratophilia (Wolf-Hybrid)

♱ word count: 1.8k

♱ warnings: fem!reader, Red Riding Hood reader x Wolf Hybrid Chan, I never specify body type but this has stomach bulge & Chris is described to be bigger than the reader so read at ur own discretion, size kink, teratophilia, knotting, kinda corruption?, bribery/coercing, lowkey kinda mean chris (everyone act surprised. Sian wrote mean dom), rough sex + big dick chris with no mentions of prep, biting, public sex? Its in a forest but nobody is around, 1 use of “good girl’

sorta proofread

Kinktober Schedule

DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!

“Tsk tsk tsk… You should know better than to be this far out in the woods, Red. You know this is my territory.”

“C-Chris! Listen… I’m really sorry but I need that plant over there. Grandma isn’t doing well and the only remedy that will help needs just a few of those flowers…” The tall man looks over his shoulder, eyeing the purple-colored flowers that you had pointed out.

“Hm… Okay, you can have a few.” The bright smile that grew on your face was almost enough to let you take it for free. Almost.

“Thank-” “On one condition.” 

“C’mon, sweet girl. You know I don’t do things for free~” His rough fingers stroked your cheek and he couldn’t help but grin as your smile dropped. The canines that peeked out from behind his plump lips were enough to bring you back to reality and remind you that he was in fact still a wolf hybrid and not so much your “friendly” neighbor.

“What exactly do you want…?” His grin seemed to get wider before he took his bottom lip between his teeth. A predatory glint took over his eyes as he slowly looked you up and down.

“I have something in mind…”

“Open the fuck up.”

His growl rumbles from deep within his chest and he thrusts his hips forward aggressively, causing you to cry out. Your thighs ache from the action, along with your swollen pussy thanks to the big dick that was currently tearing your insides up. You lost count after the first 5 inches, and now the seemingly never-ending length was quickly becoming too much for you.

He knew this all too well. But that didn’t stop him from forcing you and your little human body to take every last inch of his thick cock inside of you.

“C’mon Little Red, you can take it. You need to, remember?” He chuckles and pushes your thighs further apart. “You need those pretty little flowers, so you need to take my fucking cock.” His smile drops at the end of the sentence and he pulls out just to roughly thrust back inside. You moan out in surprise and his fingers dig further into your thighs, leaving crescent-shaped divots in your skin. 

“P-Please…” He clicks his tongue and leans forward more, shoving his face into your neck with another growl. With this, he manages to push another inch or two into your puffy hole, but your mind is so foggy that you don’t even notice it right away. The feeling of him breaching your walls so aggressively, all while he growls and huffs about how he needs to be all the way in for it to “count as payment” makes your head spin.

Even more so as a sob rips from your throat when he finally bottoms out. Your jaw drops and you squeal as his hips grind against yours, causing him to feel deeper all while he rubs against your G-Spot so perfectly. He throws his head back at the feeling of you completely wrapped around him and groans deeply when you clench subconsciously.

“There we go~ Good job, baby.” He licks a stripe up your neck before placing kisses all over it, letting you take a few seconds to breathe. He wasn’t that much of a brute- he did still care for you after all. Plus, what good is a new toy if you break it so early on!? So he takes a few seconds to himself, backing away and fixing his posture, allowing him to get a good look at you. And God do you look exquisite.

He licks his lips and looks over your body multiple times, doing everything in his power to burn this image of you into his head. He starts with your pretty lips, swollen and shiny with drool, and then your flushed cheeks that are wet from the fat tears that fall down them.

His eyes glance at your arms, smiling to himself at the army of goosebumps that have littered your skin as your body shakes deliciously with what he can’t decipher if it’s pleasure or pain. Your chest catches his eyes next; the way it heaves with each breath you take makes his chest swell with pride. But the thing that took the most of his attention, was the not-so-little bump on your tummy.

His lips were slightly parted and his breath was quickening as he lightly traced the outline of his dick. It’s at this point that he realizes just how large and wide he is compared to you. He’s always noticed- it’s quite hard not to. But when he has you like this, below him and completely at his mercy, he finally realizes just how much bigger he is. The sun only urges him further, casting a giant shadow over you that completely covers you and some of the ground you lay upon.

It makes his instincts go absolutely crazy and he can’t hold himself back from experimentally thrusting, moving at an angle that makes the bulge more prominent. The squeak you let out causes his eyes to flicker back up to your face, essentially snapping him out of the daze he was in. And when he meets your confused face looking up at him, he realizes how long he has been staring.

“Haha… Take a look at this, baby.” He wipes some of your tears and tilts your chin to help you look down. The desperate moan you let out sends his ego to the moon, causing him to twitch against your walls. He huffs out a laugh in disbelief and begins to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly yet roughly.

“I’m so deep… You feel that, baby?” His hand moves from your thigh and pushes down on your lower stomach, right on top of where the bulge popped out each time he bottomed out. “Fffuck.. ‘S my fat cock in your tummy?”

“God- Fuck, shut up Chris-” You clench tightly at his words despite your words and he ignores you in favor of picking up his pace, groaning when your walls flutter around him even more.

“You feel so fucking good. It’s almost like this pretty pussy was meant for me.” You swear you almost see his eyes roll into the back of his head, but he immediately brings your attention away by folding you in half. Pushing your knees to your chest and letting your ass hang in the air as he completely hovers over you, fucking into you with carnal need.

This new position makes you see stars and he uses it to his advantage, pounding into you and not allowing you time to think straight. He chases this brutal pace until your legs begin to ache, the pain of it overpowering the pleasure and making you hurriedly tap on his shoulder and push him back, “Fuck, wait- my legs.”

He huffs in annoyance but responds immediately, sitting up straight and allowing your legs to fall to his sides. His hips continue to thrust shallowly as you breathe deeply and try to rub the ache away, but this break doesn’t last long. You owe him payment, and he wants it now.

So he pulls out, opting to quickly flip you onto your knees and push your chest into the ground. You’re given no time to object before he’s shoving his entire length back inside with a groan. Your body shakes at the feeling of being absolutely filled to the brim. The back of your throat even itches as if his tip was poking it. And god, did it genuinely feel like that.

It’s not hard for him to find his previous pace, especially now that you’re seemingly more pliant for him. The only disobedient action from you is your cries for him to slow down, but he has no plans to. Not when you look absolutely ruined below him.

He shushes you and leans forward, holding you down with his chest against your back as he continues to fuck you as if his life depends on it.

“Shhhhh… It’s ok, it’s ok. You’re gonna be good and take it right? You're gonna let the big bad wolf fuck your brains out? Yea?” Your fingers dig into the ground and you nod as best as you can with your cheek shoved against the floor.

He’s unhappy with the silent answer and bares his teeth, sinking them into your shoulder with a growl to “Use your words.”

“Y-Yes! Please, Chris!”

“Goood girl. Just sit there and take this fucking dick. Let Wolfy use you like the good chew toy you are.” The new name makes you clench tightly around him and he groans as you cum, causing the squelching noises to become even louder. He moans and nuzzles his face into your neck, leaving small kisses before he chomps down again.

The overstimulation is starting to hit and you cry out, desperately pushing against the ground in hopes of pushing your torso up and off the floor. But that’s not what good toys do. So he growls against your neck and pushes you down, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place as he fixes his posture.

“No. You’re gonna sit still. Good toys don’t fucking move. I can’t knot you if you’re misbehaving.” As if to prove his point, his other hand digs into your waist, holding you even more still as he rams into you.

Thanks to his thick tip incessantly knocking into your cervix, you don’t process what he says right away. At least, not until you feel an extra mass pushing against your swollen folds. “W-Wait, your knot?!?”

You hear his earrings jingle as he tilts his head and you can almost hear the shit-eating grin on his face as he mocks you. “Yes, my knot. You’re gonna take it inside of this tight. little. cunt. And you’re going to take every last drop of my cum.” You go to disagree but your body reacts on its own, clenching around him and trying to suck him in impossibly deeper.

“F-Fuck- feels like you do like that idea, baby.” He grits his teeth and starts to focus on sharp thrusts. Once his knot finally breaches your hole, you sob into your arm and bite into it to hold back a scream.

He whines and grinds into you, rubbing against your G-spot roughly as he pushes himself over the edge. You can feel his breath on your neck, heavy and heaving as he pumps you full of his seed. His body shakes with each spurt of cum he releases, and the overwhelming movements are enough to push you over the edge again; the needy grinding from him mixed with the mind-numbing feeling of being overfilled, yet forced to hold every last bit, pushing you towards another orgasm.

“Mmmm… Hold it there, yeah? Keep my pups nice and safe in their new home, and I’ll let you take as many plants as you want. Deal, Little Red?”

Taglists: (red=can't be tagged)

@valkyriexo @lunearta @jabmastersupriseee @rylea08

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@miss-daisy04 @kittyxnoa @dwaekkiiracha @bubblerizz

@mariteez @fun-fanfics @honeyybbuubblleess

[wilwheaton]

How did the court get so much power that it can overrule both Congress and the president, ignore efforts to hold justices accountable when they are nakedly corrupt, and overturn laws like our bribery statutes? Who put them in charge of America? The simple answer, as I lay out in detail in The Hidden History of the Supreme Court and the Betrayal of America, is that the justices gave that power to themselves. Not only is such power for the court not found anywhere in the Constitution, but Article 3, Section 2 explicitly puts the Supreme Court under the thumb of Congress, not the other way around: In all Cases affecting Ambassadors, other public Ministers and Consuls, and those in which a State shall be Party, the supreme Court shall have original Jurisdiction. In all the other Cases before mentioned, the supreme Court shall have appellate Jurisdiction, both as to Law and Fact, with such Exceptions, and under such Regulations as the Congress shall make. [emphasis added] The Founders and Framers were very clear about this, even though that notorious liar Sam Alito wasn’t when he recently wrote in The Wall Street Journal: “No provision in the Constitution gives [Congress] the authority to regulate the Supreme Court—period.”

The Supreme Court Was Never Meant to Be Kings and Queens

This stolen, illegitimate, corrupt, right wing SCOTUS majority has no legal or moral right to impose its tyrannical, christian nationalist agenda on an entire nation. 

[lostalioth]

𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞

→ premise: forgetting your money for your dealer for the first time in a year sounds like a stroke of bad luck. only for you it seems quite the opposite.

→ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

→ warnings: smut | 18+, high sex (just eddies high), bribery/sex as payment? (I did intend to write it as actual bribery than idk what happened), nicknames [favorite customer, dirty girl, baby], drugs [mention, use, buying], unprotected sex, sex outside/in the woods

→ a/n: kinktober

Now technically you didn't actually need more weed, you had bought enough last time to last you the week. But god did you really badly wanna see your dealer. Eddie munson, everyone else called him a freak because of a game club he had and the way he dressed. But to you he was just so pretty you couldn’t help it, you wanted to see him again, and you didnt wanna wait til next week. In your haste and dazed state daydreaming about your pretty dealer while getting ready, you space out and forget the most important thing. Your stupid money. It was a rookie mistake that you hadn't made sense the very first time you bought from Eddie. You were so nervous that remembering to bring your money left your head. He was so sweet about it, a small smirk on his face as he handed it to you anyway. “It’s on the house, first time customer and all, hands down the prettiest too” he winked playfully at you and you think you've been smitten with him ever since.

You had found out later on, Eddie never gave anybody weed ‘on the house’ first time buying or not. You were still so lost in your head, excited to see him again that as you sat down at the meeting spot you had yet to realize you left your wallet on your dresser.

“There's my favorite customer” he beamed softly at you “I know I call you that but two deals in one week? That's a record for you” he chuckled lightly, his voice breaking you from your thoughts as he emerged from the woods. You smile coyly at him in embarrassment. Your thighs clench together slightly at the sight of him, he had ditched his usual hellfire t-shirt for a black hoodie, keeping his regular black jeans. His eyes lidded with a slight red hue around them, making you realize you probably interrupted him in the middle of his session. As he sits down at the rundown picnic table he sets his regular lunchbox on the table. The idea of him always keeping his drugs in an old metal lunch box was funny to you, and oddly adorable. But you’d probably find anything he did cute, it was getting harder and harder to hide the massive crush you had on him. The flirty banter back and forth between the two of you only intensifies it tenfold.

“Yeah I ran out a little faster than I thought I would” you cringe a bit at how easily the white lie slipped through your teeth. It felt oddly wrong lying to Eddie. He tilts his head in a way that makes you think he doesn't believe you. Before you can jump to your defense he’s opening the metal box and pulling out the lunch baggie of your regular order from him. You didn't notice the missing wallet until it came time to look for it after he had handed over the little baggie. You barely took a glance at it, tucking it in a pocket of the bag you brought that laid on the ground leaning on the leg of the table.

“Oh fuck…” you cruse under your breathe and start double checking all your pockets though you didnt have many with the outfit you had on. You even check the few the bag had. No wallet to be found.

”Left the money at home huh?” He questioned, cocking an eyebrow at your frantic searching of your clothes. In defeat after remembering it was last sitting on top of your dresser you sigh. “Yeah.. fuck im sorry Ed’s” you pout slightly, you were always good about remembering it. You’d even slip him cute, sometimes flirty little notes with the money for him to find when he’d get home. Back to being lost in your head you don't hear him getting up or coming around to sit next to you on your side of the table.

“You know…” his voice startled you slightly, both the new unfamiliar tone to it as well as its proximity. He was leaning in closer, your body slowly on its own turning in his direction aching to be even closer. ”You could pay me in another way..” his hand was now drifting to rub over and up your thigh, his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You were fine just giving the baggie back you had enough left from the last deal or quickly running home for the money. But understanding quickly what he’s implying, you decided that his payment plan was a more enjoyable idea. You’ve been dying to kiss him, to get even just a little further with him than all the teasing flirty looks and words. Realizing you haven't stopped him, he finally leans in fully, his free hand coming up to grab your chin pulling your mouth against his. The kiss sparking a fire in the pit of your stomach as his lips molded with yours. With a small mumble, the words lost in your lips Eddie pulls you even closer, hands falling to your hips to pull you off the wooden seat and onto his lap.

In the heat of the moment your hips seem to have a mind of their own, absentmindedly rocking against Eddies. He pulls away slowly, leaving you with parted lips and lidded eyes panting softly. You could feel him under you growing harder by the passing second, he wanted you just as badly. Eddie felt like his skin was on fire everywhere your bodies were touching, his hazy and cloudy head from his high causing his senses to be heightened. Your own head still full of your fantasies and daydreams from earlier that you were desperate for something more. Running your hands down his chest they land on his belt and waist band of his jeans.

“Need more Ed’s…” you whine, your pupils nearly just as dilated and blown as his, though for different reasons.

“Oh fuck it” he grunts and starts frantically undoing his belt buckle and the button to his jeans. Helping him along you lift your body off him, hovering still as you help him pull his pants halfway down his thighs.

You were smart enough to wear a skirt though this was the last thing you expected to happen. You just knew Eddie loved peaking at your ass as you walked away, so you always wore them when it was warm enough to meet up with him.

Pulling the bottom of his hoodie up a bit and pushing down his boxers after his jeans, he finally frees his cock and god it was just as pretty as you imagined. A happy trail leading down to it, the tip pink and leaking, a patch of black hair nestled at the base. Thoughts of moments like this fueled more than a few nights with your hands between your thighs. His hands return to your body, hiking your skirt up your hips he gawks at your soaked panties. “Look at my favorite customer being such a dirty girl, mighta thought you planned this all out if I didn't know any better” he groans, running his thumb through your slick folds, over your underwear. “Wore a tiny little skirt and the prettiest panties for me, and look at em’ all soaked and ruined already” he chuckled and leaned in closer, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes fixed on yours. “I've barely touched you baby” he coos and rubs small circles on your clit through the fabric.

“Need you Eddie, please~” you huff out and gasp in pleasure at the little amount of attention he was giving your throbbing bundle of nerves. His hands on your body were giving you a better high than any drugs you had ever bought off him before, and were far more addictive. “Tell me dirty girl, what exactly does my favorite customer need huh? I always aim to please” his voice has a sweet yet taunting edge to it, his thumb not stopping its teasing circles. His head shifts and his lips are ghosting over your own now. “Especially you…” he whispers as though it was a secret and there were other people around, though you both knew there wasn't anybody for miles in every direction.

“I need you inside me Ed’s, need ya’ to fuck me so bad please” you whine and plead against his mouth as you try leaning forward to feel his kiss again. You let out a sharp gasp before you even make it to press your lips to his again. While you were begging, Eddie had pulled your panties to the side and with a sharp thrust he pushed all the way in to the hilt.

“Holy fuck” he hissed through his teeth as your welcoming heat consumed his cock, your walls already squeezing around him. He sets his hands back up on your hips, trying to hold you still to give himself a second to calm down. It was pathetic but he knew he wasn’t gonna last that long, especially not with how long he's wanted this coupled with all his nerves on high alert from the weed in his system that wasn't wearing off any time soon. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you finally lean all the way forward and kiss him frantically and deeply. Hips rocking against his, the thick vein running along the side of his shaft dragging along your walls as your hips rise and drop. Teeth clashing together as you make out, tongues sliding around and fighting for dominance. Your one hand travels up threading your fingers through his mess of hair.

“Just like that baby” he groans in the kiss, fingers digging into your hips as he does his best to hold out. You already weren't all that far behind him, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside you tightening that knot in the pit of your stomach faster and faster.

Eddie pulls away from the kiss to catch his breath, his eyes squeezed shut as his head falls back when your hand comes down and nails scratch over his exposed lower stomach.

“Fuck why havent we been doin’ this every time you buy from me huh?, feel s’good” he grunts and thrusts his hips up to meet yours as you bounce down. Your ass bouncing off his thighs making an obscene and filthy slapping noise that drowns out the melodic sounds of nature. “Screw money baby, just want this pussy as payment instead. Want it all the time god~” he rambled off as you continued riding him, your hips moving fast and frenziedly chasing your high.

“Gonna- fuck im gonna cum Ed’s, baby shit” you let out a wanton moan when he starts abusing your clit with his thumb, rubbing circles like before though this time with no barrier. “Cum baby, cum on this dick dirty girl come on” he eggs you on as he speeds up his thumb making your legs shake slightly and the bouncing and rocking of your hips falter.

With a moan loud enough you swore you scared birds away, the knot in your stomach snaps and your climax crashes over you. Your cunt squeezes Eddie's cock and as he watches your body shake as you cum, his own climax hits him like a truck. Thick ropes of cum spilling deep inside you.

After a few moments pass, letting the two of you catch your breaths and your high’s wash over you. Eddie speaks up. “You know, I was only intending the different payment to be a kiss” he chuckles softly, his cheeks flushed. Your eyes snap up to his, your mouth agape. “I- well” you try speaking but he cuts you off with a belly laugh. “Baby it's all good, this was much better payment. Pay me like this from now on okay?” He lowered his voice again, the softness making your body turn to mush in his arms that he wraps around you.

“And uh hey could you pull the baggie i gave you out again, there's something you missed about it” he sounded nervous all of a sudden. You give him a questioning look before leaning over a bit and pulling it out of your bag that laid on the ground.

As you pulled it out you noticed writing that you hadn't before on it. The bag read ‘wanna go out on a date with me?” In Eddie's chicken scratch version of a handwriting.

A big smile spreads on your face and you look back up at him. “Well?” He questions, a nervous edge to his voice still, did he really think you'd say no? “Eddie, what do you think the answer is” you motion down with your eyes to where your bodies are still connected, his limp cock still buried inside you twitches a bit.

“So it's a yes?” He smiles softly and leans up ready to kiss you once again, he never wants to stop now that he gets to. You give him a nod and chuckle softly.

→ a/n: yes this is the cliché ‘you can pay me another way’ typa fic lol. i just really liked the idea, the name is also a play on quid pro quo if you didnt get that.

[gghostwriter]

Something where the reader is like sunshine, but gets cornered by an unsub and takes them down nosweat, the reader used to play ice hockey so they brawl like hell?

And at a dinner Rossi hosts, the reader offers to help cook but Morgan keeps poking the bear, teasing reader about their crush in spencer so reader asks if she can take this outside and Rossi is like "be my guest, knock him down a peg" and reader almost immediately pins Morgan and gets him to tap out

"Motherfucker I played ice hockey, I'll always win" Penelope is just gushing over reader and reader gives a wink to Spence before heading back to the kitchen to help plate up dinner

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader Trope: Friends who Flirt (?); A bit heavier than my usual fluff but still fluff, I guess Warning: CM violence, vague descriptions of fight scenes A/N: Anon, going to be honest, I had a hard time writing this. I don’t have much knowledge on ice hockey or any sport in general so I tried my best to google moves from hockey and defense that I can incorporate here. Also I know you mentioned Reader to be a sunshine type but I kinda tweaked it so the Reader can be sweet and snarky both at the same time. No further editing was done, hope that’s alright and I hope you still enjoy this! Main masterlist

Ice Princess. // Spencer Reid

You’d like to think you were hired to join the highly sought after, golden child of the FBI—The BAU—due to your well rounded resume and skill set. But a year into being part of the team, you were starting to get the feeling you were hand selected to match Dr. Spencer Reid’s intellect and observation skills. In most cases, the two of you were always teamed up, working on geographical profiles, visiting the autopsy labs, and setting base in the police stations. All were an integral part of the job, you understood plus you’ve built an incredible rapport (crush) on the 187 IQ genius, but sometimes you miss the adrenaline and physical leg work that goes through catching an unsub. How is it that Morgan gets to kick down as many doors as he wants and you can’t? 

“Princess, is that what i think it is?” Morgan asked, spotting you enter the bullpen with a large pink Tupperware on hand. “It is isn’t it?”

“Uh huh, but they’re not all for you!” You reached inside to grab two pre-packaged home made cookies and tossed them in his direction. 

He looked at the two pieces he had on hand and back to the Tupperware. “That looks like it holds more than twenty pieces. So how is it I only get two?”

You giggled. “Congratulations SSA Derek Morgan, you know how to estimate.”

“Ha ha very funny, Ice Princess,” he stood to take a peek over your shoulder. “But I was right, what gives Y/N?”

A cup of steaming coffee was placed on your desk, courtesy of Spencer. “Hey Y/N. How was your weekend?” 

You blushed. “It was great! I spent my time at the ice skating rink and baking. Look, cookies!” 

“I see how it is,” Morgan teased, watching the two youngest members blush and flirt with each other. “Does pretty boy over here get more than two pieces?”

“Yes, he does. He gets four to be exact since he’s really nice—”

Morgan averted his eyes and fake coughed ‘crush’ causing you to blush even more than you thought possible.

“—and Hotch gets four, too.” 

“Wait wait,” he held up his hands. “Reid, I get. But Hotch?”

You shrugged. “He is our boss, after all.”

“I can smell the lie from a mile away, Princess. What is it really?” He paused, making eye contact with Spencer before turning back to you.

“Bribery,” they both stated.

You stomped your boot clad foot on the ground, in defense. “No it’s not!”

He laughed. “Face it, Y/N. The big man will never put you in the line of fire, not if he could help it. Don’t you think so, Reid?” 

“He does have a point. The percentage of you being partnered up with Morgan in the past cases was at a measly 3% and you were only partnered up with him because Hotch was also there to cover your back—” the glare you were giving him was enough for him to backtrack. “—Not that you can’t take care of yourself—that’s not what I’m saying, you’re a great agent, you have the skills—” each word intensifying your gaze. “I’ll stop now.” He squeaked out.

Morgan patted his back. “What he meant to say was, Hotch has a soft spot for you and your lean, glitter wearing build. Which reminds me, when will we ever see videos of you twirling and jumping on ice, Princess?”

You laughed, his assumption of you being an ice skating princess never failed to make you chuckle. If only he knew the truth. “Never, Morgan. Never.” 

———

In the grand scheme of things, maybe the universe had heard your grumbles and finally decided to throw you a bone. It happened during the latest case in Florida, a narcissistic male unsub was loose on the streets attacking and kidnapping women that all shared the same physical traits as you. This information was pointed out when the team had found the third victim’s body—mangled and throat deeply slashed that her head was almost severed. They all shared similarities with you—slight build and delicate features. So it came as a no surprise when the unsub set his eyes on you as the next victim.

“You’re so pretty, sweetheart,” he whispered to your ears, having been caught in a bear hug attack. “I bet I could snap you in half, like a toothpick. I’ll enjoy breaking you.” 

Bending forward, you twisted your upper body to elbow his face, and breaking free. “Try me.” 

You cursed your luck, having left behind your holster in the hotel room. You were just stepping out to grab a case file left behind in the SUV when the unsub cornered you and made his move.

The smirk on your face seemed to enrage him, enough for him to come charging at you like a bull. You kept your mind cool, feinting to the left—a body fake move from hockey before throwing a heel palm strike straight to his nose, causing it to break and bleed. The unsub howls in pain and while he was pre-occupied, you quickly twist his arm throwing him to the ground.

By the time the remaining members of the team came to your rescue, you were sitting on the unconscious unsub with your hair mused and a saccharine smile on your face. Morgan says nothing, eyebrows raised, as he all but drags the unsub to the nearest police car.

It was during one of the dinner parties hosted by Rossi where the dark skinned, muscular agent goaded you into showing him your moves. 

“C’mon Princess, you can flirt with Lover Boy here later,” He slyly said, noting how close you were standing to Reid who was busy steering the pasta sauce. “I got to know how you took down that unsub.”

You laughed. “Spence, do you hear someone whining? Sounds like a yapping Chihuahua.” 

Spence laughed having spied the indignation on Morgan’s face. “You’re right, Y/N. I didn’t know Rossi got a new family member.”

“Oh hell, I’m no Chihuahua. Do you see these muscles—” He flexed his arms. “I’m more German Shepherd than anything. All the flirting with genius over here has clouded your eyesight, better get that checked out.” 

You scoffed before turning to Rossi for permission who chuckled at the irritation on your usual angelic face. “Be my guest Bambina, knock him down a peg for me but please, do it outside, I’d rather not get blood on my authentic Persian rug.” 

Morgan whooped with glee as he all but ran out to the backyard with you right behind him. He rolled his neck and waved you close. “Hit me with your best shot, Ice Skating Princess.” 

You smiled, not wanting to correct his favorite nickname of you. Before he could utter another word, you ran straight to him, exerting force on your legs and bracing your arms for impact. The tackle making him lose footing which was what you were aiming for then you proceeded to hook your leg behind his, causing him to tumble down and before he even hit the grass, you twisted making him fall chest first and his hands pinned behind him.

“What the—” Morgan struggled to get up. “Alright, alright. You win.” 

You laughed, helping him stand, as the team members all cheered behind you.

“Did they teach you that in skating school or something?” 

“Morgan, I played ice hockey, not ice skating and—” you smirked as his mouth dropped open. “—I always win, motherfucker.” 

“Bambina, language.” Rossi, the mother hen of the group, chided.

You laughed, sending Spencer a wink before skipping to where he was, awestruck and blushing beet red from Penelope’s teasing.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[poured-my-past-down-the-drain]

you're welcome, pretty thing!!!

Ranboo is coming too 🥰🥰 prepared to be tackled ♥️

– Tubbo.

RANBOO TOO???

I’m getting SPOILED TOMORROW 🥰🥰🥰

[inkedtae]

between roar and whisper ⇾ bgc. [M]

⎡ Your passion for him toggles between a roar and whisper. He’s not satisfied until your eyes roll. ⎤

⌁ pairing; slytherin!chan x gryffindor!reader (f.)

⌁ genre; hogwarts au, pwp, e2l, some angst, smut, 18+

⌁ word count; 9.4k

⌁ summary; the princess of gryffindor has no business lurking around the dungeons, other than to destroy the demon of slytherin that is… or so she thought…

⌁ warnings; mentions and brief depictions of an abusive relationship, mentions of alcohol, dom!chan, brat!reader (reader is thicc), infidelity, sir kink, size kink, oral (f. receiving), unprotected sex, rough sex, bondage, humiliation, overstimulation, degradation, dirty talk, clit worship, fingering, choking, light rimming, squirting, gagging, spanking, tit slapping, cum play, spit play, anal play

⌁ 🎧 now playing... ✩

» prefer ao3? keep reading here

» a huge thanks to jen ( @itaeewon ) for making this amazing banner for me, and my amazing beta-readers, who i owe a million hugs to for making this fic readable, jen ( @anobodyslove​ ), stardust ( @skzdust​ ), and nephele ( @jisungchan​ )

⟶ please note that, despite still attending Hogwarts, all characters are of consenting age

Lumos.

The tip of your sycamore wand glows against the dungeon walls. It smells of murky roses and still saltwater. Your face scrunches in disgust as the bitter notions settle upon your tongue. You resist the urge to gag, walking down the long corridor. You duck under hanging cobwebs and try to ignore the scurry of rats along the edge of the stone floors.

Did he guide you down hidden tunnels as some sick joke?

“Meet me by the prefect’s lavatories around midnight,” he’d said, tonguing his cheek and raking his gaze over your frame.“We’ll discuss a truce then.”

You’re not interested in a truce. You just need to obtain proof of his misconduct and abuse of power. After tonight, the Headmistress will think twice about dismissing your accusations of cheating and bribery. Maybe, she’ll stop turning away your owls as well. You’re not certain you can stomach the humiliation of receiving another returned letter in the middle of the crowded common room.

It all ends tonight.

The lying, the cheating, the complete disregard for anyone but himself— you’re tired of it. You just want to experience one day without students nagging you in the common room or great hall or even during class about his destructive behaviour. Despite telling the students countless times to approach the prefects and head-pupils, the responsibility always gets tossed back to you. The prefects claim they can’t risk their positions by making serious accusations against a fellow member of their staff.

“You’re the only one with a credible enough reputation to be taken seriously,” Nayeon, the head-girl, once told you.

You might just scream at the next person who says that to you.

The end of the corridor presents a ladder. As you are about to take hold of the wood, a black, fury insect makes itself known. You slightly squeal at the sight, jump back.

“I’m gonna kill him,” you mutter before flicking your wand to magically shake the spider, and any other crawling critters, off. Begrudgingly, you begin your ascent up the ladder.

Alohomora.

The latch unlocks. You grunt, pushing open the door. It falls onto the floor with a loud thump. You freeze, shoulders to your ears, hoping no one has heard. When only silence replies, you climb through with a soft grunt. Kicking the door shut, you brush off your clothes and resist the urge to shudder at the thought of one of those bugs finding themselves on you.

“You can just take those off,” a deep voice says, tone dripping in arrogance.“You won’t need them in here.”

Moonlight seeps through stain-glass windows, cascading upon an all too handsome face. However, the room is primarily illuminated by a warm glow of candles levitating above. Under the orangish flicker of the lights, he sits in a grand foam-topped bath. His wet hair is slicked back, eyes dancing with mischief as he tilts his head to observe you. You swallow thickly at the sight of his bare chest and those strong arms, leaning back against the rim of the porcelain green tub.

Vermilion vanilla and smoked sandalwood saturate the room, emerging from bubbles that float out of the foam and burst around you. The sweet taste is on the tip of your tongue. Intoxicating your senses, the scent ripples into your subconscious, unravelling a memory from Potions class weeks ago.

Professor Hylithe purposely paired Gryffindors with Slytherins, forcing you to sit by him despite your many protests.

He flashed that same smirk, cocked that same brow and teased, “I won’t bite,” only to lean in and whisper, “unless you ask nicely.”

The moment he inched closer that musky vanilla scent invaded your senses. Your eyes watered; breath almost hitched as you held it. Still, you didn’t want to exhale it too soon, wishing to inject it into your bloodstream.

The same urge tugs at your senses now, electrifying your nerves with a desire to lean into his masculine scent of comfort and stability.

“Don’t be shy,” he goads, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You roll your eyes. “Get your ass out here, Bahng.”

“I'd rather bang in here.”

You can tell by the smirk playing on his lips he’s proud of himself. You fight off a chuckle, sucking in your cheeks.

“You picked now to bathe?” you ask as you climb up the steps of the bath.

He shrugs, averting his gaze to twirl his fingers between the bubbles. “It’s hard to find the time when I’m constantly being summoned to the Headmistress’s office.”

So, she has been getting your owls. You try to mask your relief, crossing your arms over your chest. His attention lingers on the gesture. You knew there was an ulterior motive to his sudden talks of peace. If you continue to expose his impropriety, he might be revoked of his prefect privileges.

“Maybe if you stopped being an ass and started following the rules, instead of bending them for your cockroach friends and girls you’d like to bed, you would be able to fit whatever you want in your schedule.”

He smirks. “Am I sensing a hint of jealousy?”

You mock his smile. “I have a boyfriend.”

Rolling his shoulders back, he breathes a humourless chuckle. “Right, what was his name again? Jake?”

“Jim.”

“Whatever,” he hisses. “Hell of a quidditch player.”

You tentatively nod.

“Heard he has a tendency to be a beater off the field as well.”

Shifting your weight, you shake your head. “Are you unfamiliar with the concept of a rumour, Bahng?”

“That’s not exactly denial, is it?”

Lips dry, you take a moment to lick them and swallow thickly.

No one understands Jim— no one tries to, anyway. He’s thoughtful when it counts and nearly always caring. He’s just protective of those he cherishes. He allows you permission to hang out with your friends because he wants to ensure that you’ll be safe no matter where you are. And you like it when your boyfriend has input on your clothes. You’re so used to wearing a uniform, sometimes you forget how a proper woman is supposed to dress— that’s what Jim tells you. He is always here to remind you because he cares. He made that very clear himself.

Yes, maybe sometimes he becomes so passionate he cannot think straight, but it’s not intentional. He’s filled with so many emotions, it’s hard to contain them all at once. Besides, he always makes it up to you, showering you with cuddles, kisses, and your favourite chocolate frogs. He’s completely capable of being a gentleman.

“He just has a temper,” you reply, voice quavering. You clear your throat before adding, “I’ve heard that you do as well. Aren’t you dubbed the Demon of Slytherin?”

A smile tugs on his full lips at the mention of the title. “Not with the people I care about,” he clarifies.

“Well, look at that,” you tease. “I didn’t think you cared about anyone other than yourself.”

He thumbs the corner of his mouth, tongue poking against his bottom lip. “Come in and I’ll enlighten you a bit more.”

You raise an unimpressed brow. “We’re here for peace-talks,” you remind.

“And I’m not talking until you get in here.”

He can’t be serious.

You scoff, glaring. That usual smirk is nowhere to be seen. He maintains your gaze, expressionless. The only movement is the constant clenching and unclenching of his jaw as he waits.

“I can look away if you’d like,” he taunts, the lightest impression of a smile on his lips.

He really isn’t serious, you realise. He’s only toying with you, mocking your known tendencies to be a straight-edged, highly academic student. He thinks you’re some prudent angel who condemns all excitement and never dares to laugh out loud in public.

Gritting your teeth, you grab onto the hem of your sweater and pull it over your head. The way his brows shoot up only fuels your defiance. With every button you undo, his jaw loosens a bit more. You watch his throat bob at the sight of your satin pink bra and hear his breath hitch when you pull it off.

His dazed gaze follows your hands around the zipper of your short, pleated skirt. A part of you wishes you had matched your panties with your bra solely for the sake of consistency, but the baby-blue cotton will have to do.

He roams his eyes over your curves as you flick off your shoes and socks before meeting yours once more. You gather your hair, inhaling and exhaling slowly under his careful watch, and tie it back into a sloppy but tight bun. Big, brown, and once boastful, his eyes now swim with notions of marvelled intrigue.

As you take a step into the bath, you notice he neatly folded his clothes on the edge of the tub, flicking your attention between him and his precious clothes. Then, you hold his gaze, plaster your sweetest smile, and push them into the water.

He raises his brows, about to object when you say, “That’s for being a pompous ass.”

He tries to hide his smile with a bite of his lip.

Your knees wobble as you continue to wade through water and foam. Perhaps it’s the warmth of the bath, or the cover of bubbles, but the reality of the situation has finally dawned on you. Shedding your garments one by one, you have stripped your inhibitions in front of the most cunning douchebag you’ve ever been blessed to meet. What if he tells his friends? What if he embellishes the events and turns you into a conquest?

What if Jim finds out?

“What happens here stays between us,” he suddenly announces, as if reading your mind. “Not even the ghosts will know.”

“How can I be sure?”

“I’m not uncivilised, princess,” he smirks. “I have my honour.”

You pause, waiting for the glint in his eyes that often follows the delivery of his vicious jokes. Instead, sincerity swirls in those brown eyes. You wonder if perhaps you’re a fool because you believe him.

You take a seat to his left, maintaining a more-than-respectable distance. Collecting extra clusters of bubbles, you arrange them before your full chest. You’ve made your point, you tell yourself. And he’s seen far more than Jim ever has— both must never know.

“I can’t hear you from there.”

“You can hear me just fine.”

“What?”

You lean your head back with an exasperated sigh. “Merlin give me strength,” you mutter before inching a bit closer.

He tsks, beckoning you towards him with a curl of his fingers.

You comply, drawing nearer and nearer. When he continues to summon you closer, even at an arm’s length away, you lightly splash him.

“This is close enough,” you spit.

From the way he smiles, you realise he was trying to see how close he could get you. Jaw tight, you shake your head.

“Can you be serious for two minutes?” you ask, voice sharp. “We shouldn’t even be up this late. We have a Transfigurations quiz tomorrow.”

Confusion furrows his brows. “No, we don’t.”

You try not to smile at the way he speaks, accent thickest when he’s perplexed.

“Every second Thursday at nine, we get a pop quiz on the last two chapters,” you explain. “If you paid attention to anyone but yourself, you’d know that.”

“I don’t think anyone but you knows that,” he replies through a chuckle.

He can see the pride flash in your eyes, spreading onto your lips through a little smile— you know he can. He mirrors the expression, and you expected it to be another instance of mockery. However, upon the absence of that mischievous glint in his eye, you’re inclined to believe that he might actually mean it.

Is he proud of you for being so observant, so keen?

You hold your breath as he reaches over to move a strand of hair from your face. He tucks it behind your ear, then gently traces your jaw. You gulp a nervous lump down your throat.

Holding your chin between the edge of his finger and thumb, he quietly asks, “You want to be serious?”

You slowly nod.

“Tell me why the Princess of Gryffindor is dating a leach.”

“Why do you care?”

“Satisfy my curiosity.”

Why is the thought of satisfying him not completely revolting?

He’s a liar, a charming hustler. He has, somehow, slithered his way into everyone’s good graces, always getting what he wants, when he wants it. He gives absolutely no thought to the regulations either, sneaking his way around every rule and blaming it all on your fellow Gryffindors. It’s infuriating. You’re much more witty, much quicker than him. You’re a better quidditch player too, and, if he hadn’t manipulated Madame Hooch into making him the star-player of the season, you would have easily secured that title.

So, why, after all the trouble he has caused you, does the mere mention of his satisfaction exhilarate you?

You move to release yourself from his touch, but he holds you tighter, forcing you to maintain eye contact. Clenching your jaw, you inhale sharply through your nostrils. Your eyes narrow.

He flickers his attention to your scowl, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

You exhale carefully, cautious not to press your mouth against his touch. “Some say being with Jim makes me the princess,” you confess.

He tongues his cheek.

“You don’t agree?”

“When I look at you, all I see is royalty,” he softly says, voice steady and deep. “And I can assure you that has nothing to do with him.”

“I’ve known him forever,” you try again.

He arches a brow. “You’ve known him for a little over a year,” he corrects. “You’ve known me forever.”

He’s right; you really have known him forever. The memory of him on the train on your very first day of school, sitting in the compartment across from yours, resurfaces.

He was just some snot-nosed thirteen year old, supervising his loud friends as they arm wrestled. He caught you staring and winked.

You gagged in disgust.

He’s a flirt, you remind yourself. And you mustn’t forget that there’s a catch to this line of questioning.

You tear yourself out of his grasp, hardening your gaze. “You’re not going to worm your way out of this conversation, Bahng. Tell me what it’s going to take.”

He settles back against the tub, rolling his shoulders. “What’s the point? You’ll never do it.”

You pause, attention flitting down to where the foam gathers by his waist.

Is he… big, you can’t help wondering.

The dark chuckle tumbling from his full lips reminds you of your annoyance. Gulping, you muster your most disgusted sneer and glare at him.

He’s shameless.

“You sicken me,” you spit.

That little chuckle manifests into a full, deep laugh. His pretty eyes twinkle with mischief as he tongues his cheek.“You’re so dirty,” he teasingly chastises.

You don’t mean to shiver, but he shoots you a suggestive look and suddenly you feel hot.

“All you have to do is ask me nicely.”

Brows knitted, you scoff. “I’ve asked you hundreds of times.”

“You’ve demanded,” he corrects. “Besides, I didn’t like your tone.”

You could smack him right now. You could push a wave of water in his face, disorienting him for a moment so he doesn’t see your hand wind back, and hit him upside the head. Clenching your fist, jaw tight, you fight against the urge.

A jeering smirk tugs on the corner of his lips. He’s reaping all too much amusement from your misery.

Inhaling deeply, you swallow your pride and begin, “I was wond—”

“Sir.”

“What?”

“Start with ‘Sir’.”

You scoff.

“You want me to stop, right?” he asks, voice dripping with condescension.

You’ve never been more thankful for the amount of foam floating amongst you. Your thighs press together tightly at his tone, almost quivering under the water’s surface. You don’t think you’d be able to walk away so haughty and moral if he could see just how much his charm could potentially sway you.

“Sir,” you pointedly add, “I was wondering if you would please find it in your poor little excuse of a heart to stop terrorising my housemates?”

He hisses, squinting and tilting his head. “I’m detecting sarcasm.”

“I’m detecting bullshit.”

A look of mocked condemnation colours his face. “Now, now, princess. Didn’t I tell you to ask nicely?”

“Stop calling me that.”

“Everyone calls you that.”

“Not like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I belong to you.”

What an interesting reality that would be— calling someone like him your boyfriend. Walking with him to class, letting him hold your books, or play with your hair, or adore the outfits you pick out and practise flying together. The images conjure themselves so clearly in your brain, you could’ve sworn they were memories. Even holding his hand would make your legs weak.

All wicked notions of mockery fade within a blink. There’s a crease between his brows and his eyes narrow, but they are not full of taunting amusement nor unruly mischief. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think they’re full of pity.

“You’re not property to possess,” he affirms, tone disparaging as if the thought is unnatural. “You’re an idol of worship.”

“How blasphemous,” you joke, playing along.

He does not laugh. Sucking in his cheeks, brows furrowed and head shaking, he redirects his gaze to the bubbles in front of him. You watch his jaw flex, throat bob. Even the candles, floating above, dim and cast shadows over his handsome face.

“I’ll see what I can do about keeping Gryffindors out of trouble,” he suddenly concedes, shifting his arms off the edge of the tub for the first time. They disappear under water as he continues, “You’re going to have to warn them against bothering Slytherins though.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

What is that voice?

Usually light, laced with arrogance and mischief, his voice floats like a sweet melody, only to land sharper than a blade. Now it is plagued with melancholia. Slow, raspy, he almost sounds defeated, like he’s given up.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Nothing.”

Your face folds into confusion. Tilting your head, you let out a breathy chuckle. “I have known you forever, Bahng. And I know that you are a man of very pretty words, the prettiest sometimes.”

He casts you a sidelong glance, quirking a brow as a smile hovers over his lips.

You ignore his giant ego and continue, “One word answers are not in your arsenal, unless they’re lethal.”

“Your point?”

“Something is bothering you.”

“Why do you even care?” He sighs, finally meeting your gaze.

You resist a smirk. “Satisfy my curiosity?”

Conceit has no place on his face. A soft smile settles, caressing his features with genuine astonishment. Perhaps it wasn’t what you said, tossing his words back at him. But rather how you said it. Uncertain, perhaps even slightly cheeky, you posed it as a question. Your right shoulder came up to your cheek, and voice slightly pitched.

He lets out a chuckle. Parting his lips, you think he might finally express himself. He shakes his head, looking down instead.

“All this because you promised not to trouble me anymore?”

He shuts his eyes, bites his lip. You hear him inhale sharply, watch him release his lip to glide his tongue over his teeth. His jaw tenses then he meets your gaze. Cold, annoyed, he regards you with scrutiny.

“When have you ever been in trouble because of me?” he asks, voice so level, it makes you tremble. “When your friends were called to the Headmistress’s office two weeks ago, were you asked to join them?”

How the hell does he know about that? The Headmistress reassured Jim and the rest of your friends that the professor who witnessed the drunken broom-rides around the courtyard would not share it with the other pupils. She gave them a month’s worth of detention and praised you for not partaking in their shenanigans.

“Who do you think was on duty that night?” he questions. “Who do you think sent you that signal from the astronomy tower? Who do you think convinced the Headmistress that you were safely tucked in bed, unaware of the fact that your little leach stole your broom?”

The blood drains from your face.

“Do you even know what that toad said when the Headmistress questioned your involvement?”

You shake your head.

“He told her that it was your idea. That you were the one who smuggled the alcohol from some secret passage you found near Honeydukes. He told her that you were the one that woke him up and begged him to come out with you. He cried.” His voice simmers with fury, quiet and steady, as he draws nearer. You press your back against the tub. “He babbled like a baby and dragged your character through the mud.”

You crank your head back to maintain eye contact. You’re careful not to take a full breath, hoping your breasts don’t brush against his chest. However, you swear the tips of your hardened nipples still graze his skin. The possible contact fogs your brain. You blink to force yourself to remain focused, trying to register his words, the implication of betrayal they reveal.

“But he told me—”

“He’s a fucking liar,” he seethes. His gaze bounces around your face, as if suddenly aware of your proximity. Attention lingering on your lips, he confesses, “I’ve shattered reputations to keep you out of trouble. So I have to ask, ____, when have you ever gotten in trouble because of me?”

You part your lips to mention the onslaught of complaints you receive daily due to his insolence, but it all seems meaningless now. Why would someone known as the Demon of Slytherin shatter reputations for you? He doesn’t seem very sentimental, yet he lied for your sake.

Going for a late night fly in the courtyard really was your idea. You had too much coffee one night, trying to stay up long enough to finish your report on the history of alchemy due the next morning. Having finished your scroll earlier than you thought, still buzzing with energy, you suggested a broom race to your friends.

Jim heard you talking about it the next morning, and scolded you for being so thoughtless. He woke you up that night, ordering you and your roommates to get out of bed and join his friends for a race. Your roommates eventually brushed him off, but his grasp on your arm left no room for refusal.

You were made aware of the alcohol, or rather its influence, when you witnessed Monroe fly face-first into the side of the castle.

“I’m going to bed,” you said. You dismounted to hurry inside when Jim caught hold of your robes.

“We’re not done,” he sneered, pulling you towards him. You held your breath, knowing it wouldn’t end well if you reacted to the stench of whisky seeping from his mouth. “Did you leave your little friends out here when you flew with them?”

A bright green flare suddenly shot up from the astronomy tower. Jim loosened his grip to marvel at the sight with his friends.

You took the opportunity to slip away, rushing back to your dorm.

Blinking out of your memories, you watch as he pulls himself away, returning to his previous place in the tub. He sits back against the porcelain, wet arms resting on the edge.

You bite your lip at the sight of his glistening muscles. You’re not sure when he got so big, coming back to school a couple of years ago with broad shoulders and a buff chest.

Leaning his head back, he shuts his eyes and mutters, “Towels are by the steps.”

It’s time to go.

So why can’t you move?

Your legs tremble, wrinkled fingers twisting in your lap. Stand up, you tell yourself. Stand up, dry off, get dressed and leave the way you came.

Why would he lie for you, you can’t stop wondering. Why would he warn you before sending professors to detain your disorderly friends? Wouldn’t he gain more by diminishing your credibility?

This must be one of his games. He’s agreed to a house truce, but perhaps he merely wants to channel his deviant tendencies onto you.

You study his features at the thought. Though his eyes are closed, head still titled back against the edge, his jaw is tight. He grinds his teeth like he’s trying to swallow profanities. You shift your attention to his hands, large and vein-laced. His knuckles are white from how tightly he clenches them.

Could he perhaps be— No! The Demon of Slytherin would find that laughable. Of course, he’s not interested in you. It’s all a game. It must be.

“Why aren’t you leaving?”

You lick your lips. “Why did you lie for me?”

The candles flicker.

“You know why.”

“I really don’t.”

He tongues his cheek. You bite back a shameful moan.

“It’s the same reason why you refuse to say my name.”

You gulp. “Bahng,” you reply only for him to chuckle.

He peeks a sidelong glance at you before laughing some more and shutting his eyes. “You’re cute when you’re in denial.”

“Are you capable of giving me a straight answer?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes. He’s really going to make you say it. How did he even know you’ve been avoiding it? Has he been eavesdropping on your conversations with your friends? It’s not as though it means anything serious anyway. You just can’t get used to his name on your tongue. You’ve uttered it once in the Great Hall to one of your friends and hatefully realised that you in fact like how it sounds.

However, that cannot mean that you like him. It just means that you might be inclined to tolerate him as a classmate, or perhaps even an occasional friend. He’s not entirely horrible. He’s never late. He’s never raised his voice at his friends, and you are all too aware of how loud they can be. He has an easy smile. He’s clever. He’s athletic. He would be a dedicated, determined, devoted boyfri—.

“Oh my god,” you whisper.

He sits up, rolling his neck. “You’re pretty slow for one of the top students of your year,” he taunts.

You should be insulted, absolutely disgusted that Bahng, the cunning Demon of Slytherin, has a crush on you. You should swear at him, splash him in the face with the foamy water and storm out just as you should have when he asked you to call him ‘sir.’

However, you find that your heart beats faster, breath already ragged. You find that you inch closer, flitting your gaze between his eyes and lips. You find that you do not want to hurl your dinner nor any other insults you usually have locked and loaded when you see him in the halls.

Panic surges through you at the realisation that maybe… maybe you might like him too.

“I have a boyfriend!” you suddenly announce, though you’re not quite sure who you’re trying to remind.

His voice is tempered, gaze knowing as he replies, “I’m not forcing you to stay, princess.”

I have a boyfriend.

“And if I do?” you ask as he scans your features. “Would you tell him?”

I have a boy.

“No one will know,” he repeats.

I have a friend?

“Promise?”

I have… I have…

“I vow to you my honour and dignity.”

You reach for him, finding that he is already moving towards you. Lips latch. A whirlwind of wonder circles from the pit of your stomach, flooding your chest with desire. Febrile, fierce, the force seers his name into your flesh, pumps his breath through your lungs.

Ch-ris, Ch-ris, Ch-ris, your heart beats.

Your tongue fails to keep up with his, swirling and twirling to eventually give into his guidance. You just need him closer, grappling onto his large shoulders. Arching your back, you shove your chest against his.

His hands find their place on your waist. He hugs you against him, his hammering heart beating as one with your own. It’s so natural, so quick, the way your bodies find a rhythm, congruently propelling excitement.

And then it slips, distinct amongst the shared panting, “Chris.”

You feel his hands slide down to your thighs and tighten their grip. Letting out a little squeal, you clutch onto his shoulders as he swiftly lifts you atop the thick edge of the tub.

Chris stands between your legs. A little voice is screaming at you to push him away, but you find yourself leaning back, further spreading yourself for him.

It seems to be all the confirmation he needs to advance. His hands trail up along your thick thighs. He gropes at the flesh, watching your brows furrow and lips quiver. His thumb presses against your clit.

Your legs tremble, water rippling where your feet still dangle beneath the surface.

Chris smirks. He circles the bundle of nerves, eyeing your features as they succumb to the gentle pleasure. Licking your lips, you resist the urge to buckle your hips into his hand, body tensing.

“Yeah,” he coos, rubbing your thigh. “You like that, princess?”

Before you can reply, he dives his head between your legs. His lips latch around your clit, sucking harshly. Your breath hitches, stifling your moans in the base of your throat.

His tongue presses between your folds. The warm, wet sensation itself triggers a whiny moan, but the growl that rumbles from the deep crevices of his chest has you gripping onto his head.

Chris is famished. He laps at your clenching hole, slurping on your desire with vigorous determination. He wraps his arms around the undersides of your full thighs and feasts. He shakes his head with a deep groan. You knew you liked that big nose of his for a reason, moaning loudly as he nuzzles against your clit.

Hips roll into lips. You tremble. His grip tightens as his tongue pushes through. Fingers tangled in his hair, you gasp a moan and pathetically move your body against his face.

Chris pins you in place. He has a pace set, a steady in-and-out rhythm, that does not require any assistance.

It’s brutal.

Fast and rough, he tongues your gushing pussy, further smothering his nose against your bundle of nerves. The ongoing groans he emits do not ease the intensity of his passion, vibrating against your sex.

“Fu-ck,” you choke out, squirming over his tongue.

You think he might drown in you but then he replaces his tongue with rougher fingers. Your arousal glistens over his chin and cheeks under the wavering candlelight. Ardent eyes hold your desperate ones. You have trouble focusing on the emotion flooding his gaze as his fingers curl within you.

You’ve felt your high growing for a while, but have not been so distressed by its presence before this moment. You grip onto the edge, eyes fluttering shut as your hips rush up to meet his fingers.

Chris darkly chuckles. “No, no, no, no, open your eyes, princess,” he coaxes, pace becoming more aggressive. “Look at how well you fuck my fingers.”

Your lip quivers as you focus your attention downward. Your body has a mind of its own, rolling desperately up to his hand. It’s pitiful, really— the avidity, the urgency, the willingness you display at the mere curl of his fingers, pressing the most perfect spot over and over. You haven’t even been able to find it while trying to pleasure yourself. And the couple of times you’ve allowed Jim to attempt to fuck you, you were more eager to finish than to begin.

A weak moan escapes you as you meet Chris’s cocky gaze. You never want this end, shameless in your realisation. You never want him to leave, never want to stop gawking at his handsome features as his fingers unravel your worries.

“C-can,” you start, pussy clenching tightly around his digits. “Can I pl-ease c-cum, sir?”

His eyes darken. Jaw tight, he wraps a hand around your throat.

You meant to gasp, but an embarrassingly erotic moan tears through his hold instead. It spurs him on, his pace becoming unmanageable. The bath around him thrashes from the force of his strong arm.

His fist tightens around your neck. Your needy moans shatter.

“Cum on my fingers, pretty girl,” he whispers.

You must confess that you might have cum whether or not he gave you permission, the urge undeniable. Undone in mere seconds, you throw your head back. Your body quakes, hole clenching sporadically as you gush and gush. Your hips eventually still. Your legs tremble as your orgasm shudders through you. For a second, you feel the room spin. Blood rushes up to your head, disorienting your senses.

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs.

If you’ve been so good, why hasn’t he stopped? His fingers, while slowing down, still maintain a steady force. His hand still grips around your throat, choking all your high pitched whines as your orgasm washes over you.

“C-Chris?” you shakily ask once you sit up again.

A sparkle of sinister satisfaction winks in his gaze.

You swallow thickly, hips shifting to escape the ongoing pleasure. “Chris,” You firmly repeat before releasing the edge of the tub and gripping onto his wrist. “Chris, please.”

Your efforts are useless, his force much stronger than yours.

“Don’t you wanna cum?”

“I d-id,” you whine. “I c-came, sir, please.”

A pleased growl rumbles from his chest at the title.

Pride sprouts in your stomach, or perhaps it’s another orgasm? It gathers around your clit. You furrow your brows at the sensation, pussy now clenching around his fingers tighter than before. Your release usually knots and twists under your stomach, threatening to gush between the sporadic tensing.

You think you might need to urinate this time, however. The thought rushes blood to your cheeks.

“Chris,” you try to warn.

Tongue licking the corner of his mouth, Chris raises a knowing brow. He smiles devilishly.

Does he know? Does he care?

You don’t have time to find out, letting go of his wrist to grab back onto the edge. Your hips freeze, body rigid as another wave of pleasure overwhelms you. Moans trickle out through sobs, the blissful gratification becoming all too much.

Hand shifting from your throat to your waist, Chris holds you steady and pulls out his fingers to a spray of your orgasm. He does not recoil at the splash, but further coaxes it as his fingers rush flat over your clit.

Your body does not feel like your own, overridden with galvanising pleasure. Senses lost, you don’t realise the damage you’re on the verge of causing. Writhing, a pitched, loud scream splits through the swashing of the bath and splatter of your release from the depths of your lungs. Perhaps your vision is foggy, but you swear you catch the stain-glass windows tremor.

Chris ceases his harsh ministrations. He’s stifling his laughter as he pulls you back into the bath. His hand clamps over your mouth— your whines even louder at the sudden halt of satisfaction.

“Sh, sh, sh,” he soothes as you crank your neck back to look up at him.

Though, mind still hazy, you cannot help wondering if he likes the image of you beneath him or if this is simply the best position to silence you.

Why not both, you can almost hear him reply.

Chris must see some sort of dialogue in your eyes because he narrows his own. “Do you want to get caught? Is that why you screamed?” He removes his hand from your mouth, only to trace it with his thumb. “You want your precious house to see this— see me between your legs?”

You cannot help your smirk, quirking your brow. “You do look good there.”

“Yeah?” he asks, breath fanning over your lips.

When you nod, he smiles, the curve of his lips so devastatingly beautiful you wonder how on Earth you ever denied him for so long.

“As good as you’d look gagged?”

You furrow your brows, about to question him when you feel it. Wet silk slithers along your arm, looping around your bicep and up your shoulder. Green and silver, you watch as his tie travels around your neck, slightly tightening— teasing.

When you meet Chris’s gaze once more, you find they glow with rapturous lust. How long has he thought about this, about you? Does he spend his nights with the image of you at his mercy, mouth bound? Does he crave it when you sass him?

You part your lips to accommodate the tie, holding his gaze. As it loops into a tight knot behind your head, Chris tenderly takes your hands and guides them to your back. The same cool, wet sensation of silk begins to bind your wrists. It must be your Gryffindor tie. The irony is not lost on you. You felt bound by your house to see him and now he has bound you by your house to fuck you. It’s clever, admirable— already more stimulating than attempting to cum at the clueless hands of your boyfriend.

“Do you trust me?” he asks again. It’s like he cannot believe it himself.

“Foolishly,” you tease between the gag.

He smirks, caressing your chin.

“Completely,” you add. Whatever playfulness once twinkled in your eyes, fades into seriousness. “Undoubtedly.”

That’s enough, your pride warns.

“Desperately.”

You’re a fool. A pitiful, needy fool. So vacant of true connection, you’d chase anyone willing to offer you a mere moment of grace and attention. Who is the Demon of Slytherin besides some snake that cons his way through the school, for you to trust him so reverently?

The man who shatters reputations for you, a little voice revels.

Chris secures his fist around your throat again. He applies little to no pressure while pressing a soft kiss to your chin. You can smell your arousal on his face. Though you want to, you cannot deny the shameless quiver of your lower lip.

“Do you trust him like this?”

You should feel cold, recoiling in remorse and disgrace. You should blink yourself out of the trace Chris has lulled you into and demand he unbinds you. You should thrash and scream until someone ultimately hears and rescues you, declaring him a savage beast. You should remember your boyfriend’s name, even recall what he looks like.

Peering up at Chris, all you see is him, all you can bother to chant is his name. Like a broken record, it loops, sliding between thoughts. The only person etched in your soul is Chris.

“Who?” you ask in response to his question.

Chris bites back a smirk.

In a motion so swift you’ve missed it, Chris bends you over the edge of the tub. His hands station at your hips to pull your backside above the water’s surface. He laughs, the sound so sweet and pure you cannot help joining, because you already arch your back, perking your ass up high for him. His hands circle the surface fondly.

For a second, you believe that Chris is your boyfriend and you two do this sort of thing all the time.

And then his tongue returns. Pulling your cheeks apart, Chris dives between, tonguing your tiniest hole. Round and round, teasing a possible penetration, his tongue dances as you clench. Words fail you as only breathless moans sound, fraught and hiccupped. He abandons his ministrations for a split second to slurp on your resurfacing arousal.

“You taste like heaven wrapped in sin,” he mumbles against your folds.

A wavering moan replies through the gag.

You hear the water thrash rhythmically as Chris drags his tongue up from your sensitive pussy to your asshole. Again and again, he moves slow, steady like he wants to savour every last drop you have to offer.

“P-please,” you whimper.

Chris pulls away to gather saliva and spit it back onto you. Face smothered between your cheeks, he hisses,“Please what?”

A broken moan trails in response, body trembling from the aggressive vibrations of his words.

Between kisses on your clenching hole, he questions,“What do you want?”

You can’t take much more of this, toe curling as he continues to plant wet kisses, teasing you. “F-Fuck me,” you plead, holding back desperate sobs. “Please, please, pl-please, fuck me, sir!”

A pleased hum resonates against your hole. Your legs tremble.

Chris detaches himself from your rear. Waves lap around you as he stands to his full height. He pushes up your cheeks, pushing you further over the edge of the tub. His tip pokes at your dripping hole.

Excitement buzzes through your veins, knees wobbling. You fist your hands and hold your breath.

“Do you want my cock, princess?” Chris breathlessly asks, voice husky.

You hurriedly nod.

A hard smack lands on your left cheek. Jolting, a loud shriek escapes you. You try to turn back your head to glare at him, but Chris pulls your hips up again, forcing you back into your bent position.

“Use your words.”

“Yes!” you beech, swallowing profanities. “Yes, yes, yes!”

He rubs the stinging surface, lowly groaning his approval in two simple words: Good girl.

Your knees give out. Chris holds your hips firmly, like he anticipated the reaction. “That’s why you always try to behave, right?” He asks, and you swear you can hear that knowing smirk plastered on his lips. “You like being praised.”

Before you can question how he can possibly know that, his tip breaches.

Your mouth hangs open, but your voice crumbles in the base of your throat, breath stunted in your lungs.

Chris squeezes himself between your walls, imprinting his fingers onto the fat of your hips. “Fuck,” he purrs.

You’re relieved to hear he is just as broken as you are, finding your voice again. You weren’t sure you’d be able to face him tomorrow knowing you melted for him while he remained perfectly composed. Releasing soft, quiet moans, you spare a look back at him.

His head tilts back, throat bobbing as he swallows thickly, but then he straightens it to look back down. His face scrunches in pleasure watching his cock slowly shove into you. He wants to catch every second of it, lifting the fat of your ass to see himself bottom out inside you. He quietly hisses, grabbing handfuls of your cheeks.

Your eyes meet and you expect his to convey the same surprise yours do, having been caught witnessing something…. intimate. Instead, arrogance twinkles and he shoots you a wink.

“You’re insufferable,” you sneer.

He smirks, thrusting in reply.

Your self-righteous glare falters into teary pleasure.

His expression remains unchanged, however, as if he knew one manoeuvre of his hips would be enough to silence you. Reaching for the knot behind your head, Chris forces your head forward. You moan at the rough flick of his wrist, voice peaking as he yanks on the tied gag like he’s reining a horse.

The smack of skin on skin, the splash of the bath around you, even the full-chested growls Chris roars, cannot overtake the whiny, broken moans you release. Every thrust coaxes a louder sound, tearing through your throat as you try desperately to keep it down. He’s just so fast, so big, you cannot contain yourself, pushing yourself back into him.

His free hand slips into your bounded fists. The delicacy of his touch in the midsts of such rough rutting, cradles your heart. He holds your hands firmly and for a second, you forget where you are. It’s just you and Chris and the floating bubbles now infused with vanilla, sandalwood and your blended arousal. On the threshold of something real, you tighten the clasp of your fingers around his hand.

Is Chris looking for reassurance or is the gesture enough to tip him over the edge?

His thrusts snap into a force so strong, you’re certain he would have toppled you over the lip of the tub had he not been holding you so firmly. Vigorous, deliberate, his hips pound into you, rubbing against your clenching walls.

Your legs shake and shoulders ache from the strain of having them fixed in a certain position for much too long. Still, you need more, more—

“More!” you cry, and you hope he can understand you through the gag.

Water splashes out of the tub in great waves as Chris increases his speed. Though the cacophonous melody of your desires fills the room, you swear you hear him whisper, “Whatever you want, princess.”

Eyes rolling, drool dribbling down your chin, you almost fall limp on the edge. Your toes curl, body shakes from the onslaught of pleasure as he thrust, thrust, thrusts into you. You cannot keep still if your sanity depended on it, cannot keep quiet either. You half expect another prefect to barge in or a ghost to emerge and investigate the sounds of your shared pleasure.

You cannot endure it anymore, cannot endure him. Clenching tightly, you meet his movements with eager force. Your moans jump an octave in pitch. His name pours from your quivering lips like a desperate prayer.

His cock twitches.

And all at once, ecstasy arrests your bones. Muscles tense, walls sporadically clench, your orgasm ripples through your aching body. Blood rushes to your head. The high fogs your mind, muffles your hearing and you lay limp over the thick edge of the tub as Chris unloads his desire deep in you.

Nearly half the bath water is all over the floor and you catch his reflection within the spill. His hungry brown eyes are locked on your worn body, on the way your full frame jiggles with the intense impact of his thrusts. Another rope of cum shoots within you at the sight of your voluptuous backside. Chris gropes each cheek, biting his lip.

You wiggle back into him and a little smile tugs on the corners of his plump lips. He hums soft growls, tilting his head to gage the best possible angle to view your rear. He traces gentle circles over the surface of your cheeks before trailing his touch up along your spine and you don’t realise you’re trembling until his fingers brush back down.

While your voice is high-pitched, whimpering between heavy breaths, Chris’s voice drops an octave as he shushes you. The low rumbles resonate within your bones, tenderly soothing you.

The knots around your wrists and head, loosen. Your house ties fall as he pulls out of you. A whine escapes, but Chris is ready. He continues to softly shush you, pulling you up and onto his chest. He wraps his arms around your waist, engulfing you in his warmth.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. He turns to sit again, seating you between his legs. “I got you.”

You tell yourself that you just need to catch your breath. Once you stop panting, and your mind stops whirling, you will untangle yourself from him, threaten to destroy him if he utters this to anyone, and leave. You just need the world to stop spinning.

Only, Chris’s arms are so strong and secure. And with the heat he radiates, the tenor of his deep voice, the brush of his panting breath against the crook of your neck, you cannot bring yourself to fight it. Your body is spent, muscles aching and bones brittle from the rush of pleasure that you still feel fuelling your needy nerves.

More than that though, you can feel your mixed arousal between your legs. And you don’t hate it. You try— you want to hate it. But, it feels so right. It feels like this is how you should be spending every night, this is where his arousal belongs: on your body.

Chris presses a soft kiss against your shoulder.

Your eyes flutter open and you meet his gaze.

“Are you hurt?”

It has just occurred to you that no one else has ever held you this close after any sort of intimate moment. You’ve given your boyfriend, whose name still evades you, everything you have. You’ve gotten on your knees for him, swallowed his loads, pretended to gag on him, and reassured him that he was not quick at all and it was perfectly normal to release within the first few thrusts. You sacrificed your own pleasure multiple times and still, no one has coddled you the way Chris does now, let alone asked you if you’ve been hurt.

Tears sting your eyes. You blink them away, avert your gaze to the remaining clusters of foam and bubbles.

“What hurts?”

His voice is so soft, so delicate, you find it hard to fight off your tears.

You shake your head, not trusting your voice.

Chris shifts to try to meet your gaze. He rubs his hands along your biceps, brows knitted in concern. “Tell me where it hurts,” he practically begs.

“Nothing hurts,” you whisper.

He stiffens, hands pausing mid-stroke.

You chance a glance over your shoulder.

Despair gleams in his eyes. He sets his jaw and swallows thickly before asking, “Do you regret this?”

“No,” you reply before you can even really process the question. Your next words simply tumble out of you. “I couldn’t regret this if I tried.”

Hope twinkles in his gaze, dimming the gloom that once clouded it. He caresses your chin and smirks.

You roll your eyes. “Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease.

He tongues his cheek. “Tell me why you’re upset then. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Chewing on your lip, you wonder if you should be honest. You know he likes you now, but you cannot help wondering if he is simply attracted sexually to you or if this really means something to him. And if it is just sexual attraction, will you be able to weather his rejection?

You inhale deeply. He has seen every part of you, heard every drop of desperation in your voice. It might be merely sexual, but there is still a certain level of intimacy within that as well. And if he is taking the time to soothe you and check in with you after such vigorous devotion, then it must mean something, right?

“No one…” you trail, unsure how to word it.

Chris brushes your loose strands out of your face. His patience stirs something foreign in the pit of your stomach. It’s warm and whole and welcoming— Happiness.

“I never get aftercare,” you breathlessly confess. “I was beginning to think I don’t deserve it.”

You swear you see anger flash in his eyes before sadness settles. “You don’t deserve to be treated like anything less than royalty,” he says, deep voice caressing your heart. “I will destroy anyone who thinks differently.”

You kiss him, soft and slow. He quietly hums in against your lips.

Pulling back slightly, you whisper, “Then, I’ll always be your princess.”

The Great Hall bustles with chatty students gossiping, fighting over food, or rough-housing. The bright morning sun shines through the grand windows as the smell of breakfast lures you in behind your roommates.

You rub your eyes and suppress a yawn.

“Come on,” Fiona says, tugging on your robes.

You shuffle after her, adjusting your tie. It still smells of vanilla and sandalwood, drawing memories of last night to the forefront of your mind. It’s not like you can ever forget what happened. If the smell of your tie did not invoke any memories, the ache of your muscles or lingering wetness in the apex of your thighs would do the trick.

An arm wraps around your waist. You stiffen when you turn to find Jim smirking down at you.

“Morn—” you begin, attempting to brush off his touch.

His grip tightens. You suppress a hiss, knowing any indication of pain will only set him off.

“You didn’t wait for me.” His lips are curled in a boyish smile, but his eyes simmer with annoyance.

You try to push his hand away again, but he only seems to squeeze your side harder. “I woke up late,” you explain before adding, “Please let go.”

“You woke up late,” he repeats with a dry chuckle. “You seem to have enough time to shower. I can smell your vanilla soap.”

In the corner of your eye, you find Minho, one of Chris’s Slytherin friends, halt mid-step as the mention of vanilla scents. He turns to look between you, Jim, and Chris, who sits a few paces away and is burning a hole through Jim’s skull. A knowing look flashes in his eyes and he smirks at you.

Jim catches him staring, furrowing his brows. “Fuck off, snake,” he quietly hisses.

Minho glares at him.

You take the distraction as an opportunity to slip away. Jim is already one step ahead of you, tugging you back into his chest with a pointed tug of your robe. You stumble back with a quiet yelp.

Minho, brows knotted, sets his jaw. “I think she wants you to let her go.”

“I think I told you to fuck off.”

“I think we’re over.”

Jim snaps his attention back to you. “What?”

You put all your strength into ripping yourself out of his grasp. “We’re,” you start, tugging your robe out of his fists, “done.”

“What do you mean?”

“We. are. not. dat-ing. an-y. more.”

The Great Hall falls silent— or perhaps it’s been quiet for some time. You are not sure and frankly, you couldn’t care less. All you want is to be as far away from Jim and his sweaty, red face as you possibly can.

“You— Don’t fucking speak to me like that,” he seethes, advancing towards you.

Chris stands between you and Jim. You don’t remember hearing his footsteps but here he is, towering over Jim. Minho and Changbin, a fellow Gryffindor, stand on either side of him.

You are suddenly all too aware of the quiet murmurs echoing around the Hall. In the corner of your eye, you catch your roommates nervously staring, confusion and concern crumpling their faces.

“Sit down,” Chris orders.

Jim sneers, but that anger of his soon falters as Minho and Changbin take a step forward.

“What is the meaning of this?” Headmistress McGonagall asks, emerging from the back door by the staff table. She hurries down the middle aisle, clutching onto her dress, a look of pure condemnation on her face.

Chris turns to the Headmistress with a charming smile. Minho and Changbin quietly slip back into their seats as Chris explains, “I was just reminding Mr Prewett that profanities are not tolerated at Hogwarts, Headmistress. You know how forgetful he could be.”

McGonagall narrows her gaze at Chris. She then looks at Jim and finally at you. Her attention bounces between you and Chris a couple more times before asking, “Is that so?”

You nod along with Chris.

Jim clenches his jaw.

“Well, I never thought I would see the day that Ms ____ would agree with Mr Bahng,” she announces, staring at the two of you a moment longer. She hums then finally turns to Jim. “Mr Prewett, please report to my office after breakfast.”

And with that, she waves the students back to their meal and returns to the staff table.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“You’re going to regret this,” Jim mutters. “No one is going to treat you the way I do.”

You shoot him a humourless smirk. “Good.”

Chris stifles a laugh.

The sight of his playful eyes and plump lips have you suppressing your own smile. You shake off the flutter of your gut and find your place beside Fiona at the table.

“What the hell is going on with you and Bahng?” she asks as you fill your plate.

“You ever notice how Jim would always give me a plate with less food than anyone at this table and then rush me out of the Hall before I can go for seconds?”

Fiona stiffens.

“I didn’t either,” you confess, scooping another heaping spoonful of scrambled eggs. “I think Chris did though.”

Her green eyes drift back to where Chris sits. A little chuckle escapes her as she turns back to her food and shakes her head. “I think McGonagall was onto something,” she laughs.

“What do you mean?”

“I just never thought I would see the day that the Princess of Gryffindor would rule over the Demon of Slytherin.”

You can’t help but smirk, a rush of warmth blooming in your chest.“I suppose there is a balance between a roar and whisper after all.”

note; please do not leave hate towards me or any other readers. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my work.

[hyperfixatedbastard]

how to get the First Man™ out of bed

Soft!Adam x GN!Reader

Turns out the 'First Man' himself is actually super clingy. And he is a big baby when it comes to getting up in the mornings. Good luck convincing him to get his ass outta bed!

Word Count: 1.1k

WARNINGS: mentions of sex, implied sexual content, withholding sex, kissing (it's still SFW!)

A/N: Here is the Adam x Reader fluff, finally! I didn't mean for this to have so much sex-adjacent content but I think that's just too integral to Adam's character lmao. It's still SFW though so it's fineee. I didn't mean for the 'withholding sex' part to be manipulative, it's all fun n' games here, so apologies if it comes across as too serious. (It was originally 'one week', not 'one day' - I changed it just in case lol)

Dividers

Beneath the douchebag exterior of the First Man™, Adam’s really just a big ol’ softie. Just deep, deep, deep down. It took a long time to find that part of him, but as his partner, you’re one of the only people that even knows this side of him exists.

One thing you really hadn’t expected from the man is how clingy he can get—it probably has something to do with the abandonment issues, but you’ve never tried to broach that subject. It’s currently early in the morning, and Adam doesn’t seem to plan on letting go of you anytime soon. You’re cuddled up with him in bed, his mask and robes absent as he sleeps. His wings are wrapped around you like a protective blanket. And now you have to try and convince his stubborn ass to get the fuck up. You’ve already been awake for about fifteen minutes, hoping your boyfriend will wake up on his own, but of course, that’s not going to happen. 

Getting Adam out of bed is always a struggle. Despite the promotion of Heaven as the ‘perfect place’ with ‘no bad days,’ there’s still a schedule to abide by, and angels still need sleep. And Adam really hates those damn schedules, and loves his beauty sleep. There are a multitude of ways to try and get him out of bed, and every morning is a guessing game to see which one will work.

1. Be sweet and try to gently encourage him to get out of bed.

“Adam, babe,” you murmur softly, opting for a gentle approach this time around. You pat his arms where they’re wrapped securely around your waist—you would try to get a look at his face, but he’s spooning you from behind and giving you absolutely zero wiggle room. “You gotta get up, we have shit to do.”

“Mm…fuck off,” Adam grumbles, only tightening his hold on you and nuzzling his face into the nape of your neck. Which was about what you expected.

2. Be a little assertive.

“Adam, c’mon,” you warn in an attempt to convince him to get the fuck up. “I’ve already given you an extra fifteen minutes.”

“Then gimme fifteen more,” he insists, his voice sounding almost whiny. His childishness would be adorable if you didn’t actually have shit to do today. 

3. Be a little more assertive.

You sigh. It’s never easy with this asshole. “Adam.”

The angel in question makes a little ‘mmpf’ sound into your back.

“Get the fuck up.”

He doesn’t even respond this time—he just holds you tighter, his wings copying his arms and trapping you in his embrace.

4. Bribery.

Actually, fuck no. You refuse to bribe him again. He’s already gotten that out of you several times before, getting anything from sex to food to picking what movie you two watch that night (you’ve watched Die Hard three times this week alone)

No, this is a game you are not losing this time.

5. Threats.

“Okay, you’ve got three options,” you offer, your voice less stern than your last attempt but not as soft as your first. “One: you get up.”

Adam makes another noncommittal little grunt of acknowledgment.

“Two: you don’t get up, and Lute breaks into our apartment again to drag your ass out of bed.”

He lets out a sound that sounds kind of like a chuckle, but it’s muffled against the back of your neck, so it’s hard to tell. But he’s clearly not intimidated by the warning.

“Three: you don’t get up and we don’t fuck tonight.”

That gets him. He tenses up for a moment before scoffing in disbelief. “Yeah, right, like you could go a day without this dick.”

A smirk pulls at your lips. You’ve got him now. “Try me.”

Adam’s silent for nearly a full minute. He has a much higher libido than you, and he knows you’d be fine without sex for a day. Him, on the other hand? He’s got a high sex drive and is downright spoiled. 

You’re worried he’s fallen back asleep, but eventually, he sighs. His wings unfurl and his grip around you loosens, though not letting go entirely. “Fineee,” he groans dramatically. “But only because I don’t wanna deprive you of my amazing dick.”

You chuckle and turn to face him, now that you have the ability to actually move. His hair’s all messy, as it usually is, and his golden eyes are just barely cracked open. 

“Oh, how generous of you,” you joke, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. He instinctively pushes his face into your palm ever so slightly. 

“I know, I’m fucking great,” he agrees, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He knows you were being sarcastic, but he’ll turn damn near anything into a compliment that strokes his ego.

You just roll your eyes at his response, albeit fondly. He’s a dumbass, but he’s your dumbass.

“Alright, you big baby, time to get up,” you tease, moving to sit up before his arms tighten around you once more, pulling you back down.

“Hey—” you start, but are immediately cut off by a pair of lips on yours. His lips move slowly and languidly along with yours, and you’re all too happy to reciprocate.

You sigh into the kiss, unable to stop yourself from smiling against Adam’s lips. There’s a big difference between your usual hungry, eager make-outs and the sweet, lazy kisses you get when he’s all soft and sleepy. Both are great, but you really savor these tender, gentle moments with him. In the mornings, he’s too tired to keep up that arrogant ‘too cool for all that mushy, affectionate shit’ persona. And while you love him all the time, sleepy Adam definitely holds a special place in your heart.

He’s smiling when he lets you pull away. The kiss wasn’t a particularly long one, but you could’ve let it go on forever. But you’d be one hell of a hypocrite if you stayed in bed just to kiss your boyfriend after making such a point to get his ass out of bed.

“Now are you ready to get up?” you ask softly, still basking in the warmth of his embrace and the memory of his lips on yours.

“Mm…” Adam hums in consideration. His smile quickly turns to a smirk as he tightens his hold on you yet again and wraps his wings around you. “No.”

“Oh, for the love of—”

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Needless to say, you do not stay true to your word about the consequences of Adam not getting out of bed. And Lute does, in fact, break into your apartment half an hour later to be confronted with a sight she sees far too often for her liking. 

Fuck him for being so damn stubborn. Literally.

Taglist - @3sire-777

[amsznn]

Please I’m begging u could you write Chris x reader when reader gets wisdom teeth out. Pet names only baby

WISDOM TEETH - c.sturniolo

-

“todays video is gonna be a bit different guys.” chris spoke into the camera before turning it to you, revealing you leaning on the kitchen counter. “y/n’s gonna get her wisdom teeth out!” your head quickly shifted towards the mention of ‘wisdom teeth’, unfortunately being reminded of what will be your reality in a matter of moments.

“chris stop, she’s literally fearing for her life right now.” nick said while laughing. “don’t worry y/n, its not that bad.” he said while patting your shoulder.

“i dont think i wanna go anymore.” you said quickly as you remembered how much pain nick was in while he was recovering.

“it’s gonna be alright baby, we’ll be right there.” chris reassures as he wrapped his shoulder around you, still holding the camera.

it took some convincing, and maybe some bribery from your boyfriend to get you food after the procedure, to finally convince you to get in the car and go through with getting your teeth pulled out. you had been in pain for a long time, complaining about the pain the teeth were causing you.

chris knew this and knew the best thing for you was to get them out. now you all were packed in the car with matt and chris in the front, while you and nick were in the back.

occasionally chris would reach behind his chair and allow you to hold his hand for some time. he knew as you were trying to appear calm and collected, your mind was actually racing.

but that feeling would only intensify as matt pulled into the parking lot of the dentist office. you did all the regulations upon entering the building, signing in, and waiting.

before you knew it you were in the chair, about to get those teeth pulled out.

“promise, you’ll stay?” you turned over to chris, watching him with pleading eyes as he grasped your hand in his.

“promise.”

timeskip

a couple of hours passed and you were finally off of the operating table. drowsy and unaware of where you were.

“where..where am i?” you spoke. you realized there was a strange feeling in your mouth. “waths in my mouf?!” you quickly tried to take out whatever it was from your mouth before chris stopped you.

“y/n, you need those in there baby.”

confusion took over for the rest of the day as your boyfriend completed the rest of the paper work and walked you out to the car where matt and nick were waiting.

“sooo..how’d it go?” nick asked amused as he saw your state. “nick, sit in the front i wanna sit with y/n.” chris said as he opened your side of the car door. you almost face planted as you got in but nick was quick to balance you before moving to the front seat.

chris didn’t feel like filming on the way back home since he’s sure you would kill him if he ever uploaded a video of you in this state. blabbering on and on about nothing that made sense while also questioning everything and anything.

“chrissy…why are there three of you.” you pouted before poking your boyfriend’s face, the reaching to poke matt and nick’s face as well. matt swatted your hand away and scolded you since he’s driving.

“why are you yelling at me?” you frowned at matt who you thought was chris before saying, “im breaking up with you!”

chris could only laugh at your antics causing his brothers to join in as well.

“y/n that’s matt.” he softly said while caressing your shoulder.

you made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth in realization, and muttered and apology to matt for threatening him.

you all made it back home, with chris carrying you to your shared room. as soon as he set you down on the bed it was lights out for you. immediately falling asleep in your boyfriend’s bed. he smiled as he moved his face in front of yours, softly giving you a kiss on the forehead, trying not to wake you up.

“i love you, y/n.” chris whispered, to which he got a snore in response. but thats all he needed. he knew you loved him just as much.

-

a/n: sorry i didnt know how to end it but i hope you enjoyed!

[cutebat]

Yandere Batfam x Neglected, but Defiant Reader

The Other Half

Warning(s): Yandere themes (at the end), neglect, mentions of pills (but she doesn't actually take them), a lot of swearing, stealing, mentions of cheating and bribery, attempted guilt tripping, forcing to drop out, reader is just a millennial in the 2020s

(This chapter is basically the other part of the prologue, and I fixed some things. Most of this chapter just shows reader's personal life at school.)

~~~~~

How long has it been has you stopped being Batgirl?

Days... Weeks... Months... A year?

Honestly, you don't really care. It's more like you don't feel to care anymore.

After you threw out your costume in that dumpster, you just lost all hope of whatever you'll become.

You were walking down the hallway of the Wayne manor as you think about all of this.

If nobody really cared about what you did, then why bother keep going? I mean, your family didn't really give you a lot of praise.

You let out a heavy sigh as you enter the bathroom. When you locked the door, you couldn't help but stare at yourself in the mirror.

Your eyes were still kinda empty but a little bright at the same time. Your hair feels so smooth and soft. And your skin... it just looks so perfect. This makes you think to yourself...

Since when did you become so pretty?

After staring at yourself in the mirror, you were about to leave the bathroom before you gaze lands on something.

It was an orange pill bottle.

"SSRI..."

You mutter out as you read the label.

You opened the door to peak to see if anyone was in the hallway. Coast clear.

With that, you took the pill bottle and put it in your top since you didn't have any pockets.

~~~~~

The first week when you started eighth grade came by quickly.

You were just wandering down around the hallway alone as many students walked by you to either go to class or skip to go somewhere.

As you walked down the hallway, you spotted someone approaching you.

"Uh, hey."

The voice calls out to you as the person walks towards you.

It was a guy with slightly bushy blonde hair with brown eyes. He seems to be around your age.

You only blinked before you spoke up.

"Hi."

You responded blankly.

"Um, are you new here?"

He asks as he rubs the back of his head.

"I've been going here for two years."

You said as you just stood there, staring at this boring looking guy.

"Oh, cool... I just thought that since I've never seen you around here before. Anyway, do you know where your classes are?"

He asks which makes you tilt your head to the side a bit.

"Kinda. I've seen all of the classes here around this building, so I think I'm going to be fine."

You said as you place your hand on your hip.

"Okay, that's cool. I'm Peter, by the way. What's your name?"

The guy whose name is Peter introduces himself with a small smile.

You were silent for a bit, surprised that someone actually spoke to you. You decided to... be nice, I guess.

"(name)."

You simply replied with your hand still on your hip.

"Aw, cool. It was nice meeting you (name). Hey, if you want, maybe we can hang out. You know, as friends? Maybe more...?"

Peter said as if he had high hope.

You just blinked before you replied.

"I literally just met you."

"Well... yeah, but-"

The guy tries to explain himself before you caught him off again.

"Well, I'm going to find my class now. See ya."

You said before you turned and walked away.

Was that guy really trying to hit on you?

~~~~~

You enter the classroom that seems to look like any other classroom.

"Ah, we have our first tardy student. Welcome to English 2. My name is Ms. Tucker, what is yours?"

The teacher said as she turned to you.

You stayed by the doorway for a moment, looking unfazed.

"Um... Beyoncé?"

You replied which made the students in the class laugh.

"Settle down! I have to look it up in the attendance sheet, then..."

Your teacher said with a sigh before she pointed at an empty desk, indicating that your new seat was.

As you sat down, Ms. Tucker speaks up again.

"Alright then, now I see that everyone's present, I want to start off with some first day reading. Basically, like silent reading time."

She said before a girl raised her hand.

"Can we read manga?"

She asks, which makes the teacher raise her eyebrow.

"Is that like... a comic book?"

"Does it even matter?"

"Well, I don't think they're fitting for your age."

"You literally just said to 'read a book'. Manga is technically a book."

"I'm not sure if that's school appropriate."

"I just saw a manga section in the school library earlier, how the fuck is that not school appropriate?"

"Not getting to the point here. I'm just saying to read something more like you kids would like."

"And what's that?"

"How about... The Catcher in the Rye? Written by J.D. Salinger?"

Everyone fell silent before you spoke up.

"You're such a fucking white mom, it's not even funny."

This made everyone in the class burst out laughing.

"Excuse me, young lady?"

"You heard me, bitch."

The students laughed even more.

"Go to the headmaster's office!"

Ms. Tucker yells as she points to the door.

~~~~~

"You're on thin ice on the first day, (name)."

The headmaster said with her hands on her hips.

"It's not my fault that Ms. Tucker is such a bitch and also, there was this other girl who interrupted her."

You said as you were seated in front of her.

"Don't shift this onto someone else, (name). We're talking about you right now."

"So, what am I supposed to do? Accidentally call my teacher a fucking white mom?"

"You're supposed to follow the school rules and not insult your teachers. You should've known this."

"I do."

"Then, why did you do it anyway?"

You purse your lips before you respond.

"Because it's funny."

Your response made your headmaster sigh to calm herself down.

"Well... if this doesn't work out for you, we can always transfer you in an alternative educational system instead."

She suggests using a calm, patient expression on her face.

"I swear to god if you put me in one of those schools that have nothing but those weird, delusional people who believe in 'those' kinds of inclusivity topics, I will actually bully the fuck out of all of them."

You told her with a slightly irritated expression on your face.

"I wasn't implying to those schools, (name). We have other educational systems for students who don't seem to get along."

Your headmaster said which made you raise your eyebrow.

"Really now?"

"I wouldn't try to get into them if I were you. Please believe me when I tell you that the school you're in right now is actually a good thing."

She explains to you which made you seem to be in more thought.

~~~~~

Later in lunch, you were sitting at a table alone as you stared down at the food that Alfred made for you.

"Damn, it's fucking freezing in here. Why do they always turn up the AC?"

You mutter to yourself as you slightly shiver.

"Fucking tell me about it."

A voice pipes up that makes you look up to see two girls who are wearing the same uniform as you, walking over to you.

"Oh, sorry. Were you guys sitting here? I can move if you want."

You said before one of them shook her head.

"Nah, it's fine. You seem cool."

She said as she and the other girl sits down in front of you.

"I'm Noelle, and this is Sasha."

The girl in the bob cut said as the other girl nodded.

"I'm (name)."

You said in a bored tone.

"(name)... such a cute name. I like it."

Noelle said with a small smile.

"So, where did you come from?"

"The headmaster's office."

You said as you roll your eyes.

"Damn, the headmaster's office on the first day? What did you do?"

Sasha asks as she rests her chin on the palm of her hand.

"I told Ms. Tucker that she was a fucking white mom."

You respond in an emotionless tone.

"She is, isn't she?"

"Yeah, except I don't think she's married or anything."

"You don't need to be married to be a mom."

"That's true."

"Anyway, that was really good."

"I know."

You said with a small smirk on your face, feeling a sense of pride in yourself.

As the three of you were chatting, someone walks up to your table.

"Hey, guys. Hey, Sasha..."

Looking up, you see a slightly tall guy with brown hair, towering over the three of you.

"Who the fuck are you?"

Sasha asks as she glares up at the guy.

"It's me. Ian? I was in your social studies class last year. You know, year 8? You used to copy off of the tests that we took. I'm also in your geography class right now."

He said as Sasha just blankly stared up at him.

"Okay... cool."

"So, anyway, I actually wanna ask you something."

Ian said as he glanced down at the three girls below.

"Who?"

You ask with your eyebrow lifted.

"You, actually."

"Wait, me? Why?"

"I heard about you calling Ms. Tucker names and got sent to the office for that. I want to say that's actually pretty cool."

"Thanks, I guess."

"Yeah, so, anyway... I want to know if you're free either tonight or tomorrow."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I actually want to... take you out on a date."

"A date?"

You ask out loud with your eyes wide.

"Yeah. It's not going to be too extreme... just a simple night out at my favorite spot."

Ian said with a smile.

"And where's that?"

You ask with your eyebrow raised.

"The arcade at the alleyway."

"An arcade? Out of all the places, an arcade is your go to spot?"

"Yeah. It's pretty old, but it's also kinda cool."

You just blinked as you were in thought. The guy himself seemed pretty boring, but on second thought, you don't really want to go back home after school.

"Yeah, sure."

"Wait, really?"

Ian said out of suprise.

"Yeah, I have nothing else to do. My home life is pretty shitty anyway, so I have no problem."

You tell him.

"Oh, sweet. Okay, then. I'll give you my number to send you the location. It was nice meeting you."

He said before he placed a piece of paper in front of you before he walks off.

"Holy shit..."

Noelle mutters out.

"You got asked out by a grade 9 student."

Sasha said as she stared into you.

"Yeah... Is that a problem?"

You ask.

"No, not at all. It's just that... you got asked out by someone on the first day. That's pretty impressive."

Sasha said in an amazed tone.

"Yeah. I won't be that surprised that it's a super lame dude, but an older dude is kind of just... wow."

Noelle said with her eyes wide.

"So, if I get asked out by an older guy, does that mean it's a good thing?"

You ask as you lean back to your seat.

"Well, it depends on the guy. If he's just a few years older than you, that's fine. But really old dudes, no way."

Sasha said as she stares at your food.

"Hey, are you going to eat that? My mom won't make me anything cause I told her that her new haircut looks like a really trashy lesbian would have, and the school lunch here is just not it."

"Yeah, sure, go ahead. The temperature in here made me lose my appetite."

You said as you pushed your lunch towards her.

~~~~~

After school, you went through a very long day.

You had your date with that Ian guy at the arcade. It's pretty trashy but kinda fun. He even got you this massive bunny plushie. After the date, he wanted to take you home, but you just left before he could say anything else. Then, you end up meeting a guy who seems to be around a few years older than you on your way home. He took you to an abandoned building, but he ended up falling asleep the second you two entered. So, you ended up taking his wallet for an Uber. Once the driver dropped you off, he gave you his number for some reason. It was weird, but you took it anyway cause, why not.

~~~~~

"Whew, what a day..."

You muttered to yourself as you entered the Wayne manor.

"Miss (name), where on earth have you been?"

Alfred, the family butler, asks out of shock as he comes downstairs to find you coming inside.

"At an arcade."

You reply in a blank tone.

"So, I'm supposed to believe the story of you being at an arcade after school all night?"

The old butler wonders with his eyebrow lifted.

"All night? I was there for about what... Two or three hours."

"It's two in the morning, miss (name)."

"Oh, wow. I really hung around that building for that long?"

You mutter to yourself out of surprise.

"What building are you talking about, miss (name)?"

Alfred asks as he walks up to you.

"Some abandoned building I went to after my date at that shitty arcade."

You tell the butler as he kneels down to your height.

"How far away were you? Did you walk? Your uniform is a mess!"

He asks as he took a look at you.

"Nah, I got myself an Uber. It's fine."

You tell him with your tone still blank as ever.

"Miss (name), I don't think it's a good idea to accept rides from strangers."

Alfred said with a heavy sigh as he led you upstairs.

"That's how Ubers work, Alfred. You just find someone pretty close to your location and let them drive you anywhere you want. It's like going on a taxi."

You explain to him as he takes you to your bedroom and lets you sit down on your desk chair.

"I suppose. However, you could have given Master Richard or Master Jason to pick you up. I think that'll be a safer option."

Alfred said in reply as he took out some comfortable clothes from your closet and handed them over to you.

"Why the hell should I call these fuckers? They don't give a shit about me anyway."

You snap at the butler as you snatch your clothes from him and go inside your own bathroom.

It was silent as Alfred stood in front of your bathroom door with a concerned expression and a heavy heart. Then, he speaks up again.

"I tried to talk to them again today, especially to Master Bruce. But, I got no response from all of them. I really tried. I'm really sorry, miss (name)."

His words made the old butler pursed his lips as he let out a sigh. He feels guilty that he didn't try enough for your family to at least give you a glance. He's been doing this ever since you got neglected and tried every single day with no response.

That's when you open the bathroom door with you wearing the clothes that he gave you. A yellow sweatshirt and a black skirt.

"It's fine, just forget about it. I appreciate though."

You tell him as you look up at him.

"Sorry for snapping at you a second ago..."

You added as you put some of your hair strands behind your ear.

However, the butler only smiles as he kneels down to your height once again.

"I understand, miss (name). It's not your fault. None of this is."

He reassures you as he places both of his hands on your shoulders.

"Even though they might not pay attention to you that much, I will always be by your side."

He tells you that made you smile a little.

"Thanks, Alfred."

You mutter out.

"Also, let's keep me coming back home a secret, okay? I know that they won't care if they find out, but still."

You add with a chuckle that made the butler smile.

"Alright. But, I will advise you to go to bed now. It's a school night, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah, I know."

Meanwhile, unknowingly to you, someone was beside your bedroom door, listening in the conversation.

~~~~~

Since then, you've never felt so... free.

You became friends with those two girls from lunch, and more guys asked you out while you two timed them the same time, and some of the teachers were so easy to bribe off that you ended up skipping most of your classes. At least you were still passing.

You also stayed up at night to do stuff like going out, doing some more lame dates, and most of all, just chilled out.

As long Alfred kept quiet about all this, then none of this would have a problem. Not that you have too much to worry about.

Life is going so well for you.

For now.

~~~~~

When the first semester ended and winter break started, you had a packed schedule ahead. You're planning to go on dates for the next two weeks straight. It was going to be tough, especially hanging around with a bunch of weird guys, but hey, at least they're buying you things that you want.

As you entered your bedroom because you forgot your phone, you were suprised to see...

Bruce?

He was sitting on your bed and seemed to be deep in thought before he looked up to see you standing by in the doorway.

"What are you doing in here?"

You ask as you walk into your room.

Bruce seems to be nervous before he lets out a sigh.

"(name)... we need to have a talk."

He said as he looked straight into your eyes which made you groan.

"Oh my god... Can we talk about this later? I have a date to go to."

You ask that made him a little frustrated.

"You're not going anywhere tonight, (name)."

He said that made you a little surprised.

"Why the hell not?"

"Watch your tone, young lady."

"Since when did you address me that?"

"Not the point right now."

Bruce lets out a sigh before he looks down at you.

"Look, I... was told about your behavior for the past months and I took a look through your things to check up on what was going on. I... didn't know what you were going through. None of us did. We didn't know that this the reason why you're behaving like this at school and started hanging out with the wrong people."

He tells you as he places his hand on your shoulder.

"I'm really sorry, (name)... I really am. Even though you can't forgive me for what I did, I'll try my best to be the best father you've ever had. I told the others about this and they'll start behaving and treat you the way that you deserve."

You just stood there, as if you heard the biggest news of your life, except not in a good way. It's as if something hit you right in the gut.

"Oh, shit! Um... okay."

You mutter out as you just stare at your adopted father.

Sensing your tenses, Bruce decided to go into more detail. Which was not a good idea...

"Because of this, I decided that you should be around people who me and the others will find alright. Since I don't know who you're around, Damian will check who your friends and the people you date are. Also, the family wants you to be around them. Such as spending time with them and basically having fun. Something that you never got to experience."

Now, this. This felt like a nuclear bomb dropped into your head.

"Are you serious...? Like, are you actually fucking serious right now?"

You ask as your eye twitches a bit.

"You really thought I could just accept whatever shit that comes out of your mouth because you suddenly remember what you and those other fuckers treated me? Now, you want me to drop out of the life that I kinda enjoy? You sure are funny, are you?"

You said in a bitter tone before your lips curled into a snarl.

"I will never forget about the shit that I went through to please you and that shitty family that I was forced to be a part of."

You added as you walked to Bruce and got in his face before you spit out the next two words out of your mouth.

"Fuck you and your family."

With that, you stormed out of your bedroom as Bruce calls out for you.

~~~~~

Your mind was flooded with so much anger that you ended up forgetting about the three dates that you were supposed to go to today.

This wasn't the way you wanted to start your winter break.

You don't know why, but you stormed into the attic and sat down on the floor.

"Fuck!"

You yelled out as you panted slightly.

As you were panting, you looked down to finally notice a glittery diary in your hand. Since when did you get your hand on this?

You can't help but open the diary to find all the pages empty. It's not really a suprise then you never used it in your life. You don't even remember when you got this.

So, you looked around before your eyes landed on a random pen lying on the ground. Without thinking, you picked it up and opened the diary to the very first page.

With that, you started to write your 'entry'.

It's time to show the world of this game that you're forced to be in.

•

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