#the devil is a part timer x reader Tumblr posts

[mortal-mayhem]

I wanna write for The Devil is a Part-Timer but there's barely anyone who knows what it is 🥲

I mean look at this dork

[plushverse]

HIIII WELCOME BACK (my Tumblr notifs said u hadn't posted in forever I may be incorrect though)

can I perchance request some fluffy hcs with Lucifer (Devil is a Part-Timer) and an affectionate s/o who's kind of a gremlin but in an endearing way (examples being mischief along the lines of sneaking their cold hands under the edge of his shirt to make him jump at the cold, braiding his hair when he's not paying attention, playfully (and lovingly) biting him out of nowhere, kind of just like a cat in a human (?) body). I personally use he/him but the reader can be gender neutral or masc-aligned, I'd prefer not femme though 😔

hope your day is going great!!

HI HELLO! From when you had sent this ask, it had been a while since i last wrote anything. I try to make reader gender neutral, since I don’t really mention s/o’s gender, so I hope these are okay!

*You are an absolute little gremlin, but you’re very affectionate towards Lucifer (only him though)

*you’re basically like a cat in a human body, that’s what he said to you on multiple occasions.

*since you will occasionally playfully, yet affectionately, bite him out of nowhere, which causes him to flinch in surprise

*you will also sneak your cold hands up his shirt and place them on his body, just to see his reaction

*Lucifer will get you back occasionally, but he knows that you’re just being your usual affectionate self

*no one understands how your actions can be seen as affectionate, but Lucifer just shrugs and tells them he’s been together with you for so long he just knows

*and you know what is and isn’t okay, so you would never push him past any boundaries or anything

*though you have moments where you will just want to cuddle with him instead of your usual antics

[helpfandom]

How about platonic yandere Satan and foster child reader

@yanderefangirl

"Sire, we simply cannot afford to take care of another child!" -Ashiya "ANOTHER?! Are you saying I'm a child?!" -Lucifer

You cannot have just him without the others, but he primarily tries to get you away from them.

See, what likely happened is that he noticed you through the window of the McRonald's and his heart hurt for you, noticing how sad you looked. However, to Emi, this is a ploy to make Maou look better.

Nevertheless to how Emi feels, Maou allows himself the guilty pleasure of letting a foster kid into his home, tiding over Ashiya when once he [Ashiya] has realized that holding a foster child while allow the household some extra money [You get money for housing a foster kid.]

But what Ashiya has yet to understand is how Maou is so interested in you, not allowing people to be near you, in the sense that he ruins the people tyring to meet you for adoption, but he knows that if his ruler commands it, he must.

So in a sense, Ashiya is a bigger Yandere than Maou is, because Ashiya is a lot mroe willing to murder for you, and Ashiya is willing to do what it takes if his Lord commands it.

So in a sense, when you get foster-failured [a term for when a foster family adopts who they were fostering], you get two yanderes for the price of one!

[harveybwabbit92]

Belial, after rescuing R/n: Any permanent damage?

R/n, as she hugs him: You're my hero, Bel!~

Belial: So yes.

[mcwentfandomtraveling]

The Iron Scorpions as Told by Ashiya

Quick a/n : So I felt like writing a very short fic for The Devil is a Part-timer fandom because a) I love it and b) there aren't a whole lot of fics for this fandom compared to others and c) especially Alciel/Ashiya doesn't have nearly as many fics...so...since this has been tugging at my heart for quite a while now I decided it needs to exist on my blog...anyways! Still anxious and depressed so please no constructive criticism yet! I know better then anyone that it's absolutely ass...it has mistakes...the formatting is off...the punctuation is horribly awful...but I'm just so not in a place yet mentally to do better...so please go easy on me! I really am not doing good with this kind of stuff atm. Anyways, my main sources for Hataraku Maou-sama/The Devil is a Part-timer are the anime and the manga since I don't have access to the light novel, but Ashiya to me is one big question mark ever since hearing what type of demon he is...and I'm just making my own personal headcanons and stuff that I'm adding to this fic about the Iron Scorpion clan or sometimes demons in general...so this is just my ideas and interpretations mixed with the canon material...hope that's alright!

Also I'm not specifying the gender of the reader and using they/them, and there's lots of my personal ideas for the Iron Scorpian clan...Anywho...

Warnings and just stuff to know/literary ingredients that make up this fic : Talks polyamory, demon mating cycles, marking mates, Y/n has a sort of "bouncy" personality idk it just what happened..alright 😅, Ashiya might seem OOC to some people but this is just how I picture him, anyways the fic is not inherently sexual...it just talks about mating, weird demonic scorpian demon anatomy, no beta (obviously), again tons of mistakes...I am aware of them, I'm just to tired and depressed to fix them, so kindly just ignore them to the best of your ability!

You have now been informed!

Fic is under the cut!

The Iron Scorpions as Told by Ashiya

The distant city sounds created a calming hum of white noise while Ashiya washed the dishes in the tranquility of the evening light's glow.

"Y/n" he said catching thier attention.

"Yeah" they responded stretching thier arms upwards as they sat at the table in the center of the room.

"It's quite nice having just the two of us in here" he remarked having a gentle smile on his face.

Y/n hums a "Mmm" in delight.

Ashiya smiles as he dries his hands on a towel, now having finished washing the dishes.

He sits down beside them as they lean thier head onto his shoulder, he smiles fondly at thier display of affection.

"You've been awfully quiet, what's on your mind" he asks, enjoying his lover's company.

Y/n gently wraps thier arms around his arm, as they continued to have thier head on his shoulder.

They quickly nuzzle his neck causing him to laugh a bit in surprise.

"Honestly, you..." he replies laughing softly.

Y/n hums in delight having accomplished the task of hearing thier beloved's laugh.

Ashiya looks at them smiling at the affectionate touch of his partner "Alright, what in particular is making you so desperate for my touch today?" He inquired smiling softly.

Y/n smiled and let go of his arm choosing instead to fall onto his lap dramatically.

They looked up at him feeling a bit embarrassed but decided to talk nonetheless.

"Well I couldn't help but wonder about you...I've only gotten to know you in your human form...but well...you're a demon...so I don't know you as much as I should, so I wanna know more about you...Alciel".

Ashiya's eyes widened in surprise, it felt nice hearing the name he grew up with since childhood come from thier lips.

His own lips softly hummed in delight, thinking about what he might say about himself before looking back awkwardly and coming up short of any ideas on where to start.

Y/n laughed softly.

"Mind if I ask some questions then?" They asked.

Ashiya nodded softly at the suggestion as he waited eagerly wondering what they want to ask.

Y/n took a deep breath and looked up at Ashiya.

"Well, I know you're from the Iron Scorpion clan and I know Maou unified the demon realm, but...I genuinely know nothing about you as a demon or your clan..." they said awkwardly.

Ashiya smiled and looked up feeling a nostalgic warmth of memories.

"Well...what in particular would you like to know about my clan?" He asked.

Y/n blushed awkwardly.

"Well for starters...you're called the Iron Scorpions, does that mean you guys have your own venom? And like a stinger?" They asked.

Ashiya smiled.

"Yes, we're called Iron Scorpions for a reason, we do in fact have venomous stingers, however they are our last means of defense...we typically try to defend ourselves with our own combat skills because our stingers are our last line of defense, if our tails are cut off then...well either we'll be rendered handicapped for life or it might kill us...so we try to be cautious".

Y/n smiled and noded, "So what happens if someone accidentally happens to trip and injure themselves on your stinger?"

Ashiya smiled, "Well our clan, I'd say we're quite good at alchemical medicines surrounding venom and poions in the demon realm, especially to cure our own venom when we sting someone by accident which rarely happens since we can control when we release venom, however accidents happen, unfortunately my knowledge of poisons and venom does not translate into pharmacology or any kind job here for that matter in Japan, mainly because we have very different elements and ingredients in our world, back in Ente Isla that is, a lot of the same too, but also different things which came as a result of having magic in our world when this one does not".

Y/n nodded, feeling excited learning about Ashiya to which he laughed happily at thier enthusiasm.

He looked back at them and said "Anything else you wanted to know?"

Y/n hugged Ashiya in delight unsure how to contain thier happiness.

"Yes please" they said, as they suddenly blushed.

Ashiya looked intrigued at this reaction.

"Oh, may I hear the question my love?" He asked.

They continue to blush as they look away awkwardly, "Um...do Iron Scorpions have a mating season?" They finally ask.

Ashiya laughs finding thier awkwardness endearing, "Yes, we have a mating season, typically in warmer months, but that doesn't have much bearing on me in human form, however if you're interested in experiencing a demon mating season and mating with me in demon form then I wouldn't be against it, we're already together afterall".

Y/n nods and asks "what does mating season include?"

He smiles and says "Well, typically the smell of pheromones gets us...in the mood...and I can assure you, your pheromones smell enchanting my love. In our clan we mainly start out making the mood right for our mates...like how you humans like to wine and dine your dates before sleeping with them, we Iron Scorpions like taking our mates dancing, then once the mood is right we'd take them back and sleep with them, now what you're most interested in is the actual mating process, correct?"

Y/n blushes and nods thier head up and down enthusiastically in response.

Ashiya laughs at thier reaction, "Well, alright then!like most demons we like claiming our mates! We can control the release or retention of our venom...so we end up stinging our mates to have our marks and scents cover them for others to know who they belong to, without our venom being used in the sting of course, and we also use our tails to restrain our mates, and our black scales vibrate when we churr, now remember that we're covered in black scales on most of our bodies! Now as for penetrative sex, well Iron Scorpions have a demonic version of a cloaca, it's similar but different then ones you've heard about, we can have penises and we can also have vaginas, so Iron Scorpions chose how they identify whenever they get an idea, all of us can impregnate and be impregnated, that's just how we are" Ashiya explains.

Y/n blushes and buries thier face into his shirt quickly as he gently holds them close.

"Was there anything else you wanted to know?" Ashiya asks as he gently rubs thier back soothingly.

Y/n regains some of thier composure to talk again, "Um, well...I heard that unlike how in humans monogamy is the norm, within most demon clans its normal to have many mates, is that true?" She asks.

Ashiya smiles and nods.

"Yes, it is! good job on learning that Y/n, it is true" he says.

Y/n smiles, "So...you know how we both also like Rika? Mind if we both confess to her and both be mates?" They ask.

Ashiya smiles affectionately.

"I'm very glad you're willing! Absolutely!" He said.

Y/n quickly cuddles him affectionately and nuzzles his neck again.

Ashiya laughs happily, "My my! You're quite cute my love".

Y/n hums in delight then speaks up again.

"Hey Ashiya, thanks for telling me more about you" they say.

He smiles, "absolutely my love, I'm glad I got the opportunity".

He hugs them and tightens his grip tightens slightly at the joyous feeling of having his lover close, he smiles and says "Now instead of explaining courtship and nesting, I'll let you experience it with the time we spend".

Y/n smiles, "I can't wait" they say and they stay happily in thier lover's embrace.

[coinwaves-blog]

Reactions to you moving down the Hall

Maou 

Maou came home and sat at the table. Ashiya told him about the new neighbor down the hall. Maou was happy to have a new neighbor, but was dreading Emi’s reaction. He was thinking about all sorts of crazy stuff she will say to you about them. Maou decided that he should introduce himself tomorrow and get to know you a bit to save face for the inevitable Emi tornado coming.  

Ashiya

Ashiya bumped into you as he was leaving to go grocery shopping. He apologized and noticed the box in your hand. “You must be our new neighbor” He said “ I am Shiro Ashiya.” You smiled and said “ I am (Y/N), I look forward to getting to know my neighbors better, please excuse me I have a lot of unpacking to do before my shift.”. Ashiya smiled and whished you a good day, hoping to run into you again. 

Urushihara

He overheard Maou and Ashiya talking about it while surfing the web. He was mildly interested and curious about how the hero will handle this information. 

Emi 

She was stalking the boys as she normally does and watched you move in. Emi was concerned for your safety. Her head was spinning with different ideas on how to get to know you. She did not want to disturb you while unpacking and made a mental note to come to talk with you in a couple days. 

[java-lava]

I feel like getting into writing again, (it’s been a few years and a new account) would anyone be interested? If so I’m open for requests. Tell me what character you want, and what you want. I’ll see if I can do it! Only thing I will not write is nsfw or any sweet home Alabama stuff. Let me know if you’re interested!

[star-crossed-sluts]

Matt Murdock X Chubby!Fem!Reader

Contents: 2.2k words, love confession/discussion, cheeky reader, giggly sex, chubby female reader, slight insecure reader but that's quickly solved, mentions of bullying regarding weight though very brief

Minors DNI

You are responsible for your own media consumption

You've dealt with strange looks all your life. It wasn't surprising their whispers had infiltrated your mind. Often you managed to catch yourself, stopping the thoughts that weren't quite yours. When you first met Matt, the most frequent one was, of course, you could only get a blind man to like you. It was cruel, and you tried to chase it away every time, but there was a small part of you that thought, if only I can keep him from touching me, we can go on like this. 

Because you were a fool. 

He always grabs your hips first, almost a warning of the devil to come. 

“What’re you doing up,” he rumbled against your neck, voice thick with sleep. You're half-sure he’s subconsciously tracking how long you've been away from his arms every night, waking himself when the timer passes your usual bathroom breaks’ duration. 

His hands push even further, rubbing your sides until he's gripped two handfuls of your soft stomach. Bare chest plastered against your back, his grip manhandling your hips back to meet his. You used to shy away from his touch, wanting to keep the you from reality separate from the you he's crafted in his mind's eye. 

Little hard to feel ashamed of your body when he was rocking his hard-on against your ass.

“You're insatiable, Matthew.” 

His groan was pained, like you were terribly twisting his arm instead of letting him fondle you in the kitchenette. “Don't call me Matthew,” he griped, one hand searching for the bottom of your nightshirt. “Reminds me of my priest.” 

You leaned into him, a fond smile playing on your lips as he found the edge of your panties, starting to leave open-mouthed kisses down your neck. “Because you’re such an altar boy,” you joked as his fingers trailed the hem, outlining the curve where your leg met your mound. You know the moment he thinks of a retort, because his lips twitch against your pulse.

“Well, I do seem to spend a lot of time on my knees-” He burst into laughter as your elbow came back at him, letting you attack his ribs to distract you from the way his hand explored your upper thigh. “Abuse,” he accused, “attacking a blind man!”

“It’s alright, I know a great lawyer.”

Matt chuckled against the thrumming vein in your neck, his grip on your stomach pulling you tighter against him. “Yeah? You know, my rates are pretty steep, but I think we can come up with some alternative payment.”

“I was talking about Foggy.”

His laugh flew out of him, taken completely off guard, and sent you into manic giggles right along with him, throwing yourself back against his chest to hold you upright. “You're terrible,” he cackled, tugging you to shuffle backwards to the bedroom with him. “Come back to bed, trouble.” 

“Oh, don't you start with me,” you faux-threatened, but still gave in and helped him navigate the living room. “You're so much more trouble than I am.” 

He pretended to mull it over, hmm-ing and mmm-ing between soft kisses on your neck. “Alright,” he decided, “I'll let you have that one. Y'know, since you obviously need a win right now.” 

You hit the mattress, helping each other climb into bed like you hadn't been in months, as opposed to the twenty minutes it took you to make and drink your sleep aid. Only when you were wrapped in each other's arms again did you gush, “oh, yes, obviously. How can I thank you, Matty?”

Who could ever think you were anything but beautiful - that he thought you were anything but stunning - when he got such an eager, bashful grin at the suggestion. When his entire face lit up with a pink hue, as if he hasn't helped himself to your body any chance he got. How long have you lived together, and he still got that cute crinkle in the corners of his eyes with the force of his beaming as he dove for your lips. 

“Y'know,” he murmured into your mouth, “I was disappointed when I woke up and you were gone.” 

You dragged your hands down his bare back, snapping his waistband with a grin. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he emphasized, like he was offended by the teasing tone you took with him, snapping your underwear. A warning that he was ready to give as good as he got. “It's not nice to leave your boyfriend all alone in bed.”

You hummed, pretending to really consider that as you let him pull you to straddle his hips. He helped you out of your night shirt, tossing the thin fabric aside and letting out a pleased groan as you plastered your chest to his. You dragged your lips softly over his jaw, a smile twitching into place as he chased you, trying to catch a kiss. “Are you saying you think I should make it up to you?” 

“I'm saying it's been entirely too long since you've sat on my face.” 

A laugh burst from you at that, even as Matt peeled your underwear down your thighs. “Oh, yes, it's already been several days!”

“Exactly: it's been days,” he groaned, offering his hands for you to balance as you tossed around to escape the cotton around your knees, working them down one leg, then the other. 

“Next time,” you promised with a soft kiss, nimble fingers working the strings on his pants. “I drank my-”

“Your sleepy girl mocktail?” He grinned like he could feel your embarrassed glare, kissing the pout off your lips. “Can taste it. You added honey tonight?” 

“I needed something to make it sweeter,” you huffed. A tap on his hip and he lifted them for you, helping you work his pants off. You couldn't help a smile as his dick slapped his stomach, leaving a smudge of pearly precum on his smooth skin. “You're such an evil man,” you accused, wrapping your fingers around his base to watch the way his hips jerked into your palm. A stroke with your thumb along that thick vein and he leaked another stream, dripping down the side of him and onto your hand. “You're this hard when you've been teasing your poor girlfriend?” 

Your hips moved on their own when he slid two thick fingers between his lips, grinding against him as he laved his tongue over the digits. That smug grin you hated to love spread across his face as his wet fingers fit themselves to your slit, one rubbing soft shapes into your clit while the other pressed inside you. “My poor girlfriend,” he mused, “who never gets off on teasing me?” 

You shut him up with a kiss, trying to smother his chuckles that told you he knew exactly what you were doing. Still, it didn't stop him from taking advantage, pressing his tongue into your mouth, tasting every inch of you. The bitterness of the tart cherry juice and the sweetness of the honey from your drink dancing on his tongue, disappointingly hiding the taste of you that he's begun to crave. If he pushed deeper, he could almost imagine he found it again, in the back of your throat where nothing could reach but him. Somehow it felt even more intimate than the way you worked each other up with your hands: being the only one to know what you taste like behind the toothpaste and soda you cycled through daily. 

Matt's no idiot. He hears the comments you get, feels the stares - sometimes even more than you do. He wished he could find a way to tell you how wrong they were, but how would he even begin? How do you tell someone that when you wake up alone, the first thing you do is listen for where your girlfriend’s gone? That you could sculpt her exactly from how much you touch her, desperate to commit her to memory. How do you tell someone that even without your sight, your every sense is devoted to her?

He supposed he could settle for making you see stars while he figured it out.

You grinned against Matt's lips, a slight giggle falling out, as he rolled you onto your back. You were always tempted to make fun of him for his favorite position, but there was nothing Catholic about the way he took you.

Your hands kept working his cock as he arranged you - hooking your knees over the crooks of his elbows so he could feel your thick thighs pressed against him - to hear him curse under his breath. “Careful,” he warned, kissing his way down the side of your neck, “or we'll be up all night,”

“Mm, is that supposed to discourage me?” 

A strained laugh against your tender skin as you gave a particularly harsh tug. “You think you're so cute,” he managed out, trying to sound anything other than reverent.

You shared a chaste kiss as you guided him between your thighs. “I'm adorable,”

“Yes, you are. Arms around my neck, angel.” 

You always ended up the same way when one or the other needed some love. Nose to nose, lips glancing off each other like you were shy teenagers again. Your legs over Matt's arms gave him the feeling of holding you completely, letting his hands wander to feel every reaction your body gave him. Your arms around his neck, letting you claw up his back or card through his soft hair, pull his mouth wherever you wanted it. 

A match made in heaven. 

Matt had long since broken you of your bad habit to muffle yourself, the breathy moan falling unhindered from your lips as he pressed into you like coming home. Your voice rang in the empty bedroom, more beautiful than any song, perfectly accompanied by the slick sounds from your cunt as he started a slow, grinding pace. Your hands clenched and unclenched, scratching the base of his neck as you lost yourselves in each other. Lips connected in passing swipes, sharing a deep kiss and almost separating before diving back in. His fingers traced every curve, dip and fold of your soft skin, reveling in your body the way only a man truly in love could. 

The word haunted him until he told you. “Love you,” he managed through heaving breaths, soft and quiet in the privacy of the bed you shared. Then, as if afraid you hadn’t heard him, he said it louder. “I’m in love with you, y’know that?” 

“Matty,”

A great big grin spread over his face when you whined, ankles locking together behind him like you thought he’d stop talking if he fucked you deeper. “Why so shy,” he hummed, stealing another wet kiss. “You didn’t know that? I don’t tell you enough?” He felt your feet kick and your lips turn into a pout, laughing at your mini fit. 

“‘S different,” you insisted, dragging him back to your lips, only to pull him back once you’ve thought of a defense. “In love is bigger than love.” 

It’s a conversation you had in the early stages, when friendship was just barely turning into something more, when you were both stuck dropping hints, hoping the other would make the leap. You didn’t think he remembered until he managed to quote you with his hips pressed into yours. “‘Love is a feeling you can’t control, being in love is a choice- a commitment,’ I know.” He plunged into you as deeply as he could, bringing your lips to his with his palms cupping your round cheeks. He only pulled back when you were both struggling to breathe, searching each other’s air for anything you could get from it. “I,” he enunciated carefully, making sure he left no room for misinterpretation, “am hopelessly in love with you, darling. I choose you every hour of the day. I would choose you in a room of women, I would choose you if you were a worm, and in every other ridiculous scenario that you let keep you up at night.” He heard your lips part as your jaw went slack, smelled the salt of your budding tears as he ranted to you. He pressed a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I know it’s bigger, and you don’t have-”

“I’m in love with you.”

He felt his heart thump in his chest, beating its way out as you dragged him down to your level, smacking a hundred split-second kisses to every inch of his face. “I love you, I am in love with you, I would pick you- I love you so much, Matty!” 

He pulled your hips up higher on his lap so he could get closer to you, arms wrapped around your waist pulling you into his chest until there wasn’t a breath of air between you. His firm body pressing into your soft one like he could make a home in your chest, let you surround him until you would never have to be apart. 

“I hope you realize we’ll definitely be up all night now,”

“I’m not the one who has court tomorrow,” 

A giddy laugh smothered in the crook of your neck as his hips started pumping into you again. “You are trouble,”

You pressed your lips to his temple. “Perfect match for you, then.”

“Yes, you are.”

[gremlingottoosilly]

A bomb threat (And how it got you a boyfriend) special forces!Konig x fem!college!Reader

Konig saves you from a bomb threat when you get stuck at your Uni. Based on his bio - presumably, Konig was a part of the Austrian Special Forces before joining KorTac. He is also a bit of a dork and we have a bit of an obsessive episode.

Tags: Fluff, Reader is a cringefailure, Konig is overstepping his authority, hurt(not really)/comfort Warnings: Bomb threats, mentions of terrorism Word count: 2450

Someone called a bomb threat in your college. 

Well, at least, this is what the automatic email is telling you. The email that was sent to you, about especially avoiding the library on the second floor because the anonymous(not for long, since they have a knack for exposing who the hell is calling those threats each time) caller said that there is a huge chance of the bomb being placed here. 

You know, the same library that you were sitting in, right now, reading this exact email on your laptop. You thought no one was around because it wasn’t a busy day, just after the major finals, with most people staying on campus only if they failed first tests or just wanted to get extra credits for some extra curriculum. Even if you were staying here just because you wanted to work on campus’s newspaper – the library is a good place to scoop for some rumors about the dean of the uni being three raccoons in a trench coat, or the lunch staff posing as Polish mafia. 

The thing is – it seemed like you were the last fucking person to receive the email. The thing is, there are only a few weeks left before summer break, and the campus already started to turn off major announcement equipment since no sports or other events are planned. Are you going to die? Probably, there is a huge chance of you dying, as you can feel directly in your bones – god, there are probably some terrorists or uni shooters or that weird Christian suprematist who are going hysterical at the mere sight of religion other than theirs. You are going to die, you are going to die, you are going to…

— Scheisse! There is a civilian! 

You were never particularly religious, maybe only at the time of finals and work submissions – and in situations like this, where you are already mentally preparing yourself to get blown up with unfinished articles and forgotten hopes and dreams and everything and…

You were never particularly religious – so you have no idea why your pre-death auditory hallucinations suddenly included an angel’s voice with devil's timbre and some huge, tree-trunk-like hands wrapping around your waist, checking you for possible injuries or explosive device. 

These hands are really huge – and muscular, you can see how tense they are even through your black uniform, and they are roaming over your body in a way that would make you scream bloody murder and file sexual harassment if it didn’t belong to an obvious angel. Angelm in special forces uniform, an angel with a really nice boyish voice and warm hands that are sliding to your thighs, groping and checking for every possible outcome – for weapons, probably, because you are literally the only person in the room that was deemed as a bomb threat, and if you were this guy, you’d also think that you were the culprit. 

His fingers linger on your hips perhaps a bit too long – you can him patting you down like you were heading to a club – and then he lets you go reluctantly, not finding anything except for your phone which he also checked for possible timers. The interaction lasted…a minute or so, but you are already hot and bothered, getting off the strong hands holding you, even though he already let you go. 

— Are you alright? 

He must have noticed your worried face and international student badge – his English is a bit accented but nonetheless confident. You never thought that small traces of German in a speech can sound so fucking hot but, perhaps, you are just traumatized and high on adrenaline and weren't getting laid for too fucking long. 

He wears a badge – something something long German words, huge design construction that made you think he must be pretty high-rank – knowledge that you only had because of the movies and games you were playing, trying not to get off the military kink too much. Something in the situation told you that you’d spend the whole evening searching for porn with guys dressed in all black today. Maybe, a touch of cargo. 

— Y…yeah. Fuck, sorry. I’m fine, fine. Yeah. 

You are rambling and he tilts his head to the side. This large, looming hand goes to your face – you wait for either a harsh slap to return you back to reality, or a passionate and deep kiss from your fantasies and dirty novels. He slowly traces his fingers on your face, getting up, in the hairline, searching for something – perhaps, a nasty head parasite that got you acting so weird around this random guy. Random guy who is just doing his job, securing that you’re safe, sound, and not going to explode in the next few minutes. 

— No head injuries. Gut. 

You want him to touch your face some more. You want him to check for mouth injuries, to evaluate the status of your lips. Maybe do some chemical tests with that gloss you were using today. Check the reaction with his tongue. 

He twirls you in place and you almost want him to press you against the wall. Search you some more, maybe get his hands a bit deeper, pass the oh-so-modest pants that made you look like a little bitch boy – his hand goes to cup your waist again, checking for anything that might catch his interest. Nothing – and you were never this sad about Hot wearing a concealed weapon that might force him to pin you down or get you into a chokehold with those massive biceps of his. 

— What were you doing here, ma’am? 

Studying in Vienna, you never found an Austrian accent this sexy. Never knew that you might like being handled like this before – it’s not romantic, not even in the slightest, but you smile a bit shyly, a bit awkwardly, and look at him from under your lashes, trying to look as innocent as possible. You are innocent – you weren’t doing anything, you were just trying to study and write in the last few weeks. Concentrated enough, so you never even noticed a fucking bomb threat. Didn’t hear soldiers running through the building, securing each room. 

— I…study here? 

You gulp loudly, taking a few steps away from the soldier. Allowing him to examine the room, deem it safe – the bomb threat called on your university was probably fake. Maybe a call from a paranoid individual, maybe someone with nothing better to do than pranking colleges. You seriously doubt anyone would try to blow up this place while almost none of the students are actually inside – especially the library during the low season. Even you almost decided to ditch the traditional writing atmosphere and just do something in the cafeteria. 

— Oh. 

His voice actually sounds…nice. Funny even, that small remark also makes him cough and look at you more seriously. He has a mask concealing his face, some weird hood or net on top of it – you try to see his eyes, but you can only occasionally catch glimpses of ice staring at you. Mysterious, you like it. Too mysterious, that little journalist club member inside of you is itching to get a look at his face better – you tilt your head to the side, contemplating just yanking it upwards and praying that he won’t kill you. 

Although you wouldn’t mind being crushed in his hold. 

— Let’s get you out of here, ja? 

You don’t question him when he suddenly picks you up – when the world starts to spin and you are pressed against his chest, his hands are supporting you under your knees and back. Securing you in place, making sure you are nice and comfy in his hold. You don’t ask questions when he slightly adjusts your hold so he can touch more of your thighs – you think he is just getting you comfortable, and you appreciate just how thoughtful he is. 

You don’t ask questions when he holds you almost like a bridal carry, even though you are certain you aren’t injured, and someone like him probably has more interesting things to do than saving poor college students who decided to ignore bomb threats. 

His hands are warm, his chest is even warmer, and his muscles aren’t even slightly trembling. You don’t know what sort of training those guys are coming through, but it must work – his steps are light and decided even when he can’t press you firmly against him, vest standing in the way. You don’t know what to do with your hands and you don’t want to mess with the government property – you think there is a law against fidgeting with special forces soldiers on duty – so you just get them on your knees. Like a good girl. Polite girl. Girl who isn't drooling over the guy who is just doing his job. 

— Thank you. For saving me. 

You whisper it in his headset – you are worried about someone else also hearing you, but there is something intimate about tilting your head upwards and getting right into his face, your lips millimeters away from the edge of his mask. You don’t want to sound suggestive, so you sound weak instead. You don’t to sound ungrateful, so you sound pleading instead. 

His hold on your thighs gets stronger. You lick your lips nervously, chuckling to ease the atmosphere a little bit. 

Your leg brushes above his waist – and you swear that you can hear his breath hitching. It’s impossible, you think, he must be a tough and content little soldier, perfect to save damsels in distress just like you – but something in his posture, in the way his fingers twitch slightly at the edges of your body, makes you think otherwise. Maybe, you’re just dreaming. Maybe, you know nothing. 

Someone slams into the room. Another man – shorter than the one who holds you, by a large margin, but none less intimidating. Burly, muscular, dressed up in full uniform which is expected – and with his face covered up by a similar veil or mask or whatever this is – which is unexpected. You thought that special forces would have something less eye-obscuring, but what do you know? You would be dead if the bomb threat was real. 

— Other sectors secured. No bomb in sight. Commander. 

He almost hisses, the similar accent in his voice makes your cheeks heat up even more. You feel weird, dirty even, thinking of those two large, intimidating men in such an intimate setting while they are just trying to save your life – but you try to silence that little annoying voice, to convince yourself that this is probably just adrenaline, ovulation and sudden urge to procreate before you would die. 

You feel your entire body stir when the man takes a step closer, looking at you. You can’t see his face, not even the outline of it – but you feel the burning gaze on your scared expression and obediently folded hands. 

— Gut. Other civillians? — 20 civilians in the building in total. University workers, some students. Already evacuated. — Any casualties? You hear a cruel chuckle from a shorter man. — If they were, you’d hear about it, sir. No, the sector is clear. — Gut. Dismissed – we’re finishing here. — What are you doing with the civi…

— Kruger, dismissed. 

The man who holds you is surprisingly stern when he isn’t talking to you. He used a much softer, quieter tone when he was talking to you, observing if you were hurt or in danger – and he is much, much different now. A cold voice, serious tone, the image of the ruthless commander flying in your head – well, at least you were right about his patches meaning something important. 

A shorter man leaves, and the door behind him swings open. To your surprise, the man who holds you – a mysterious stranger, you can’t even seem to find a name on his uniform – doesn’t let you go. His touches feel like you’re burning alive, he is igniting and brilliant and fucking perfect and…

He lets you down to the care of the local police department and some of the uni workers. His hand brushes over your face again – you think he was checking for the injuries but, then again, why would he touch your hair ever so gently only to move it out of your face to take a good look at your lips before letting you go? You’re imagining things, you probably must be – the man is just doing his job, he isn’t trying to fuck you in the nearest hallway even if you wanted him to. 

— Sir. I…thank you, really. For the help. 

— I didn’t do anything, Schatz. Someone must been playing a joke on everyone. 

You are going to find the guy – or a girl, or someone else, you don’t discriminate, everyone is equally capable of calling on the false bomb threats – who informed the special forces about the bomb in the building, and then you are going to kiss them. 

— What kind of joke is this? 

— A dumb one. 

He looks over to his unit – a group of tall, burly men, with weapons and uniforms and everything a girl could ask for – already packing in the vehicles to move out. You brace yourself to ask for his number – for his contact, anything, everything, maybe the favorite tree in the park under which you could meet again. You know that those guys aren’t supposed to reveal their identities, that he is probably out of town anyway, special forces aren’t usually called off to false threats, you know that your attempts are futile and yet, you lick your lips for added confidence and…

— Goodbye, Scahtzen. Stay safe, ja? Don’t want to save you from a real bomb one day. 

— I…I…um, you mean you wouldn’t save me from a real bomb? 

He was already halfway to the armored car before you could say anything. You aren’t nearly confident enough to yell across the whole fucking campus territory to get a number of this hot special forces guy, and something in his hunched shoulders, twitching fingers, and slightly less social and more abrasive manners tells you that he would hate the gesture as much as you would. 

Just like this, your first even real-life military crush is driving away, leaving you bombless, hoeless, and, most certainly, more depressed than ever. Summer is going to be great, right?

*** — What do you mean calling a fucking bomb threat?! 

Your friend wasn’t happy about the pick-up strategy you wanted to use.

*** — Of course, sir, let’s raid a fucking college dorm room. 

Sergeant Sebastian Josed Krueger wasn’t happy about his commander’s newfound love for college girls. 

Mostly because König refused to fucking share. 

[bellaxgiornata]

The Devil at Your Window |6: A Clarifying Moment|

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word count: 4k [Series Masterlist]

Warnings/Tags: 18+; fluff, flirting, sexual tension, light angst, pining, eventual smut, identity reveal, and lots of black suit Matty

a/n: It has been far too long since this series was updated! Hope y'all enjoy! Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @danzer8705 @darkened-writer @keepingitlokiii @kezibear @dorothleah @sarahskywalker-amidala @1988-fiend @haruari @sleepysleepymom @marveious @sunflower-tia @fizanotfeeza @cloudroomblog @babygirlmurdock @writtenbyred @idontevenknow1359 @scriptedmoon

Startling on the couch as the oven timer beeped behind you, the noise interrupted you from the romance novel you'd been absorbed in for most of the evening. You earmarked the page you hadn't yet finished before leaning over and setting the book aside on your coffee table. Reluctantly rising from your cozy place on the couch, you tossed your blanket off and were immediately met with the faint chill of your apartment.

Breathing in the sweet, delicious scent of chocolate that was currently permeating its way through your place, you stepped around your couch and headed into the kitchen. Tonight you'd decided to pull out the boxed brownie mix you’d had in a cabinet and bake this evening as a comfort to yourself. Partly because doing something with your hands calmed you, and partly because you were craving something sweet to indulge in after the confusing day you’d had. 

You'd been in an unusual mood today ever since your coworker, Stephanie, had once more mentioned the idea of setting you up on a date with one of her friends at lunch earlier. You hadn't been able to shake that weird feeling that had since been growing in your gut. Though today wasn't the first time that she had mentioned setting you up with her friend, Dylan; she had mentioned him a few times to you over the past couple of months. 

Admittedly Dylan had sounded like someone you'd be interested in meeting from what she had told you about him, but you'd always been far too nervous to ever agree to let her give him your number. For weeks there had often been a part of you that regretted not just letting her because you'd long grown tired of coming home to an empty apartment night after night. You always wished that you had someone in your life who'd be here when you returned, someone to spend your weekends and evenings with. Someone instead of just the fictional characters in your books and television shows. But you were also tired of all the failed first dates you'd gone on, too. And a part of you was afraid that's exactly how things would end up with Dylan.

But Stephanie had also first mentioned Dylan to you before the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had fallen onto your fire escape during that snowstorm. And since then you had gone and stupidly formed a crush on him. Which had left you conflicted about the whole situation now. Did you accept a date with Dylan and potentially risk ruining whatever the hell was going on with you and the Devil–which seemed like it was mostly a whole lot of nothing at the moment. Or did you decline what could possibly be something worthwhile just for the possibility that the strange masked vigilante could actually be a potential love interest for you? Though you were certainly aware of how ridiculous just thinking that sounded considering you had no idea who the Devil even was, what he looked like, or what he did outside of committing illegal acts of vigilantism most nights while apparently not feeding himself. 

Grabbing the oven mitts from off of your countertop beside the stove with one hand, you reached your other hand out to turn off the timer and silence the incessant beeping of your oven. Slipping both oven mitts onto your hands, you bent down and opened the oven door before reaching inside and carefully retrieving the tray of brownies. Pulling them out, you set them on top of the stove to begin cooling. 

Even now as you slid the oven mitts off of your hands and turned off the oven, you could feel that odd feeling continuing to gnaw at your insides. Truthfully you knew the logical thing to do was to just give Dylan a chance. You probably should just finally set up a date with him and see what happened. Maybe things would work out and maybe they wouldn't. 

But even as you thought that, the masked man's smiling mouth appeared in your mind and your stomach twisted into knots while your heart simultaneously beat a little erratically in your chest. The thought of accepting a date with someone else–someone that wasn’t the curious and charming Devil–almost made you feel sick to your stomach. Which was absolutely idiotic and ridiculous. Especially because you hadn’t forgotten his comment about not wanting a relationship from the very first night you’d met him. You recalled how he’d said that a significant other would be a liability and a distraction. Which to you meant that the likelihood of something happening between you both, despite him seeming to constantly flirt with you, was slim. 

Yet still you found yourself clinging to hope with both of your desperate hands.

The resounding tap tap tap of three sharp knocks from behind you drew you straight from your thoughts. Tossing the oven mitts in your hands onto your counter, you spun around in your kitchen, craning your neck to peer out of your window from where the sound had come. Not surprisingly, the Devil was standing on your fire escape and grinning back at you through the glass. 

The sight of him had your stomach pathetically somersaulting inside of you. You were so excited to finally see him for the first time this week that you didn’t even bother fighting the smile that had hastily spilled its way across your lips.

“Apparently you only need to think of the Devil for him to appear,” you quietly whispered to yourself. 

As you began making your way over towards him, you saw his head tilt to the side, the smile growing even wider on his mouth. Though the closer you neared to the window, the more you were able to spot the blood smeared along the lower half of his face just below the black fabric of his mask. Concern quickly replaced the excitement you’d initially felt at the sight of him, your feet hurrying you faster towards the window. 

Unlocking it in a rush, you shoved the window all the way up and stepped to the side so the Devil could climb into your apartment. A cold burst of air flew inside as you watched him bend down, your arms quickly wrapping around your chest to keep warm.

“Are you alright?” you asked anxiously. 

The Devil began to slip his way through the window’s opening, but as he moved with ease through the small gap, your eyes curiously landed on what he was carrying. A bouquet of white and pink lilies. You pulled a face at the sight of them, brows furrowing together in absolute confusion. Why was the Devil running around with a bouquet of flowers tonight?

“Perfectly alright,” the Devil answered, drawing your attention back to his masked face. “Why do you ask?”

You watched as he straightened up, shooting you a wide, blood-stained smile. Grimacing at the grisly sight, you shook your head before turning and closing the window after him. The howling of the wind quieted, though the bitterness of the winter night lingered in your apartment. 

“Because your face is covered in blood,” you said, turning back around and pointing a finger at him. “It looks like your nose was bleeding.”

The Devil raised his free hand up, his gloved fingers dabbing at his nose which was still mostly hidden by the material of his mask. Shrugging his shoulders, his hand lowered back to his side as his attention returned to you.

“Must’ve stopped,” he replied. “Though admittedly someone did manage to hit me in the face tonight. Was actually part of the reason why I’m a bit later stopping by than I’d planned. And why these,” he said, extending the bouquet of flowers out towards you, your eyes widening in shock at the gesture, “are probably looking a little worse for wear now. Had to stop a mugging on my way to come see you, which wasn’t part of the plan, either.”

Standing there in absolute stunned silence, your eyes were glued to the bouquet of lilies. Admittedly a few of them did look a little battered, but overall they were beautiful. You could smell the fragrant scent of them over the strong smell of brownies coming from your kitchen. But you had no idea how to even react to the bouquet that he was offering you, and your lack of response was seemingly becoming apparent to the Devil judging by the way his smile faltered along his lips.

“I–I don’t understand,” you finally stammered out. “Flowers? You brought flowers for…me?”

The Devil’s head tilted to the side, his smile gradually slipping off his face. Though his hand with the bouquet remained outstretched towards you, your eyes still very much focused on them in confusion. Did you dare to hope they were meant as some sort of romantic gesture from him? That maybe he’d planned to stop by and possibly ask you out on a date tonight? Maybe he’d finally tell you exactly who he was? Let you see his face? You felt your excitement flooding through your body at just the thought of that. 

“Of course they’re for you, angel,” he said, his usual charming smile returning. “They’re a thank you. For that Devil’s Pantry you set up earlier this week.”

Immediately your heart–which you hadn’t even realized had begun beating frantically in ecstatic hopefulness at that nickname uttered from his beautiful mouth–stuttered in your chest before slowing back down as the rest of what he’d said registered in your ears. Of course that’s why he’d brought you flowers, it was the only reason that would’ve made sense.

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Uh, well thank you, but you really didn’t need to do that.”

Something about the slight twitch to the corner of his bloodied lips and the shifting of his head caught your eye. You wondered what face he was making behind his mask as you cautiously reached out and accepted the bouquet from his hand. Not for the first time you found yourself wishing that you could see his full expression instead of so much black. 

“I wanted to thank you,” he told you. “Not many people think about me like you do. Worry about me.” With a chuckle he added, “ Or my kidneys.”

You laughed half-heartedly, still trying to recover from having stupidly misread the flowers as you turned and made your way into the kitchen in search of something to use as a vase. You didn’t often receive flowers, which meant you didn’t have an actual vase on hand–something you were currently feeling a little embarrassed about and hoping he wasn't judging you for.

“Well you really should be drinking more water,” you told him, eventually pulling out a large glass from a cabinet. “You’re going to have kidney damage before you know it.”

“Pretty sure there’ll be worse things happening to me before then,” he joked back. “Considering how I spend my evenings, just having both kidneys still intact already sounds like a win.”

You rolled your eyes at him, bringing the glass over towards your faucet and filling it with water. When it was half filled, you turned off the faucet and slipped the bouquet into the makeshift vase, pausing to admire the pretty flowers. Briefly you’d wondered why he’d picked lilies, but the thought quickly vanished when your eyes caught sight of a few specks of blood splattered along some of the petals. The Devil’s blood, you guessed. 

Turning, you set the flowers down on your kitchen counter before your attention returned to the Devil. He was still standing beside your window and silently watching you. With the light from your living room shining on him, you could more clearly see the blood covering the lower half of his face. You winced at the sight.

“What?” he asked. “Something wrong?”

“Just that you have a lot of–” you paused, gesturing a hand towards your mouth, “–blood still on your face. Would you mind if maybe I…helped you clean that up? Make sure your nose really did stop bleeding?”

For a moment the masked man stood there, shifting his weight back and forth on his feet as if he was contemplating your offer. Eventually he slowly nodded.

“I suppose so,” he answered. 

“Alright, let me just grab a wash cloth or something,” you told him, exiting your kitchen and making your way past him. “You can make yourself comfortable on the couch if you’d like.”

As you headed down the short hallway and into your bathroom, you heard the strangely light sound of his footsteps in those heavy boots of his. You assumed he’d done exactly what you'd suggested and sat down. 

Once in the bathroom, you bent down and opened the cabinet beneath your sink, your eyes scanning the towels you had stored in the small space. Finding a navy blue hand towel that looked dark enough to not show a permanent bloodstain, you pulled it out before closing the cabinet door and standing back up. Turning on the bathroom faucet, you gave the water a few seconds to warm up before you wetted the fabric of the towel. Afterwards, you wrung out the extra water before leaving the bathroom and making your way back down the short hall towards your living room. 

You found the Devil sitting on your couch just as you'd expected. As you approached him, you noticed how his masked head appeared to track your movements, following each of your footsteps towards him through the room. For some reason his gaze so closely focused on you had you feeling exceptionally self-conscious, a shudder running down your spine. But you also noticed a spark of something you’d never quite felt before shoot through you like wildfire. You realized that you liked the intensity of his gaze on you. Probably more than you should have considering his face was half-covered in his own blood.

Lowering yourself onto the couch beside him, you bit your lip as you tucked your legs up underneath yourself on the cushion. Resting an elbow on the backrest of the couch, you turned and faced him completely. He’d moved a little towards you in turn when you’d settled down, his masked face shifting towards you. Hesitantly you reached your left hand out, though it immediately hovered in the space between you both, your fingers mere inches from his face. His head canted the smallest fraction to the side at your hesitation.

“Is it alright if I lift the mask just enough to uncover your nose?” you asked, your voice softer than you’d intended. “I promise I won’t lift it any higher.”

The Devil's lips curled faintly upwards at your question before he nodded once.

“I trust you,” he answered in his deep voice.

Something about him so casually stating that he trusted you had your tongue darting out to nervously wet your lips, your heart thudding a little more loudly in your own ears. Left hand closing the remaining distance between you both, you gingerly grasped the black fabric of his mask between your thumb and index finger, very aware of how intimate this felt–especially as your fingers brushed against the skin of his cheek. The moment felt almost as intimate as the time you’d undressed him from his wet clothes and kept him warm while he’d been meditating in your apartment. You figured not many people–if any–had ever been allowed to so easily touch his mask. And yet here you were, raising it just a few centimeters to reveal a fraction more of his bloodied nose so that you could clean that blood from off of him. 

Briefly you held your breath as you raised the mask, too focused on the slow reveal of a little more of this mysterious man's face to do much else. Though you didn’t dare push your luck with raising it any higher than the marginal bit you had once the bottom of his nose was no longer covered. Reluctantly your fingers released the fabric and your left hand gently came to rest along his neck, just below his jaw, in an attempt to balance yourself as you leaned forward towards him. Reaching your thumb up to the underside of his chin, your finger carefully tilted his face at a better angle. Carefully you began to clean off the blood along the bottom of his nose with the damp towel in your other hand. 

You were thankful that the blood washed off his skin fairly easily and required minimal effort of scrubbing on your part as the Devil sat quiet and still beneath your hands. Because truthfully as you worked, your mind was focused on his skin beneath your left hand, finding it hard to believe that you were touching such a vulnerable spot on his neck. It was taking every ounce of your energy to stay focused on your task–as it usually seemed to be whenever you helped the Devil like this. It didn't help that you couldn't see his eyes beneath the mask, making you wonder if he was as focused on you as you were on him.

When you'd finally cleaned his nose, you began to wash the blood from beside his mouth next. While you worked, you noticed that his lips had visibly parted just enough for you to feel the warm breath passing between them. As each of his exhales brushed over the back of your knuckles, you felt yourself becoming a little lightheaded. That's when you suddenly realized just how close you'd ended up leaning in towards him on the couch. 

Your eyes darted up, your pulse increasing when you saw that masked face mere inches from yours. Accidentally losing your balance when you’d tried to shift backwards and put some space between you both, you instead almost fell forward into his lap on the couch cushion you were both sharing. It was the Devil’s gloved hand darting up in response, landing on your hip and easily steadying you, that kept you from tumbling right into him. Though for some reason his hand hadn't just steadied you, it had pulled you back in towards him once he'd helped you regain your balance. And then he’d left it there. 

Trying to calm your heart that was still thundering loud in your own ears, your eyes focused on his mouth as you took a deep breath in. The sight of his plush lips just within your reach was making it difficult for you to think about anything else–like cleaning off the rest of the blood along his stubbled chin. At this point, heat wasn't just creeping up your neck at how embarrassing this all was, but also at the fact that your hand had somehow come to rest along his cheek. It didn't help that his large gloved hand was still gripping your hip and keeping you close.

“Sorry,” you muttered awkwardly.

The corner of his lip twitched before his expression became unreadable once more. 

“Don't worry about it, angel,” he replied in his gravely tone. 

Forcing yourself to return to your task, your hand on his cheek tilting his face once more, you finished gently cleaning off the blood from the rest of him. Though the air still felt tense and charged with something impossible to ignore as you drew the bloodied blue towel away from the Devil’s face. Staring back at him, your eyes couldn't resist memorizing the bit of his nose that you’d revealed a bit ago. You didn't often get to see much more of his face, so you wanted to take full advantage of your current opportunity. But inevitably your gaze dropped lower and you found yourself once more mesmerized by his still slightly parted lips–the same lips that often haunted your dreams lately. Tempted to trace the line of them with a finger, your thumb on his cheek slid closer to his mouth entirely of its own accord. His own hand immediately squeezed your hip in response. You froze instantly.

You'd thought about a moment like this occurring between you both far too often lately. A moment where he'd let his guard down after all of those teasing flirtatious comments you’d endured, one where he actually let you in. A moment when he'd stop messing around with you and just finally kiss you. Because right now you swore you could feel something in the air between you both, swore that he'd even leaned in closer towards you. And his damn hand was still on your hip long after he had used it to steady you, even drawing you closer to him with it. 

There was something going on here. There had to be. If there wasn't, why did he keep giving you all these signals otherwise? Bringing you flowers as a thank you? Letting you take care of him? Repeatedly showing up at your place and considering it somewhere safe for him? With the way you acted around him, he had to know you were attracted to him. 

But before anything more could happen, the Devil’s hand quickly released your hip and simultaneously crushed your hopes. He loudly cleared his throat, his hand reaching up instead to lower the mask back over his nose as he turned his face away from you. Your hand fell from his cheek, embarrassment further burning through you at the obvious rejection. Lips pressing together, you quickly slid away from him on the couch and rose to your feet. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice tense.

“Of course,” you replied, eyes on your feet as you maneuvered around your coffee table. “Couldn't have you wearing your blood while you were here. I'm just going to rinse out this towel and then I can grab you some water.” Hurriedly making your way down the short hallway towards your bathroom, you said over your shoulder, “I made brownies if you want some.”

“I know,” the Devil called back. “I could smell them from half a block away.”

Stepping into your bathroom, you paused in front of the sink, your hand hovering over the faucet. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you as your brows knitted together at his comment. That was yet another odd thing for him to say. With a shake of your head, you turned on the faucet and began to rinse his blood from the towel, too preoccupied thinking about what had just transpired in your living room to make sense of the strange things he sometimes said. 

As you stood there watching your sink run red from the Devil’s blood, you felt your stomach drop at what had just happened between you both–or rather, what hadn't happened. Why had he ended the moment like that? Was it because he didn't feel the same way? Or because he believed having someone in his life really would just be a distraction and liability that he didn't want? Because you found it hard to believe that he hadn't felt something after that near kiss on your couch, even if right now you just felt rejected and embarrassed. 

Glancing up at your reflection in the mirror while you continued to rinse his blood from the towel, you released a sigh. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to give Dylan a chance after all. Maybe going on a date with a man who actually gave you his name and let you see his face was the best thing for your heart right now instead of pining after the mysterious vigilante who was fast beginning to feel too far out of your reach despite him currently sitting on your couch. 

Turning off the faucet, you wrung out the hand towel once more. Making up your mind, you decided that you'd finally tell Stephanie at work tomorrow to give Dylan your number. You'd agree to that first date once and for all.

[icycoldninja]

Fluffcember #14 (Vergil x reader)

Fluff headcannons

-Reads you to sleep every night, each night is a different book/story/poem. He'll first adjust your pillows, then kiss your forehead, and then sit on the side of the bed, reading to you while holding your hand until you fall asleep.

-Loves to just lie down with you and relax. It doesn't matter what you're doing, or if you're doing nothing at all--as long as you're together, Vergil is happy.

-A very quiet, introverted fellow, Vergil isn't really into socializing and doesn't really say much unless he has to. This leads to the two of you establishing a sort of telepathic communication; you both seem to know what the other needs without saying a word. This can be cute, when you're all chilling at home, or it can be creepy, when you're both in battle.

-Even Dante gets a little creeped out when he sees you and Vergil exchange knowing glances before rushing into the fray--or towards him.

-One of his most favorite things to do with you is cooking. He doesn't know how to cook personally, he just likes being the helper. Like a toddler He'll open jars for you, hand you items off the top shelf, stir things and/or grab really hot bowls from the microwave without flinching. The man's survived years of literal hell, he can take a hot bowl out with no problem.

-Also likes to eat the food you make with him, especially if you made pizza. Deep down, under that stern, stoic exterior, is a wacky woohoo pizza man just like his brother.

-Vergil doesn't like live action movies or TV shows, but LOVES anime and goes completely bonkers over it like a true Otaku. His favorite anime are: Black Clover, Mashle: Magic and Muscles, The Devil is a Part Timer, Date-A-Live (for some reason) and Rent-A-Girlfriend.

-He will listen to classical music in public to showcase how "refined" he is, but secretly likes listening to rock music. He'll never let anyone in on this secret, unfortunately, as he doesn't want people to see how similar he and Dante are.

-Speaking of Dante, occasionally the pizza boi comes over because he upset Lady and Trish--now they're hunting him down and his only sanctuary is your house. When this happens, the twins will get together and have a boys night in the guest room, where Vergil sits in the corner being edgy while Dante steals all your liquor and gets drunk, resulting in loud whooping as he re-purposes your mattress into a trampoline, prompting Vergil to whip out the Yamato and commence with his "Dante contingency plan". Spoiler alert: it's violence.

-Owns a pair of fluffy pink bunny slippers. Nuff said.

[madelynraemunson]

CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪

(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)

𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz

strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader

Chapter 002: Wing Man

You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.

* = somewhat smut

** = smut

↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020

word count: 7.2k words

NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol

pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)

author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE

tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n

“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd

♡

A sultry black set.

A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.

“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”

Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.

“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”

“I guess.”

You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.

"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"

"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.

"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."

It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.

"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.

"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."

"Did they even determine if you do?"

"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”

You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.

“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”

“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”

“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.

“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”

“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”

The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.

Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.

Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.

“Hey.” you snap.

Max halts. She knows she went too far.

“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”

At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.

Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.

“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”

You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.

“I figured as much.”

You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.

“You like ‘em?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”

“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”

He ponders for a while longer.

“Most of the time at least.”

Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.

Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.

“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”

“Ay ay!”

One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…

“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”

Suspicions confirmed.

“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.

“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”

Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.

“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”

“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”

While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”

“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”

“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”

“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.

“Flats,” you respond instantly.

You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.

“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”

“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”

The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.

“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”

“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.

Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.

“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”

“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”

“All in good nature right?”

“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”

And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.

“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”

“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”

“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”

I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.

———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-

It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.

You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.

You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.

“Shy Girl<3”

“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”

“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”

You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.

“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”

You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.

“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”

“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”

“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”

“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”

Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.

“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”

“No, right. Totally!” you agree.

Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.

You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.

“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”

Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,

“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”

It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.

You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.

“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”

You two shake hands again.

“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”

You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.

“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”

“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”

Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.

After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.

“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”

Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.

“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.

Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”

You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.

Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.

“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”

You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.

“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.

He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.

“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”

“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”

“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”

You follow closely behind. “He?”

Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.

"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.

"Yeah, but not in this setting."

He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."

You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.

You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.

"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”

Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.

“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”

As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”

Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.

"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”

You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.

“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”

Eddie pauses.

"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”

He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.

"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.

“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.

You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.

You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.

"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."

“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.

“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”

Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.

“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.

“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.

Wicked Games by The Weeknd.

More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.

“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”

You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.

Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.

“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”

“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.

“I call bull.”

The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.

You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.

“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”

“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”

The beaded curtains clash once more.

In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.

“Hi,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”

He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”

“That’s meee.”

It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.

“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”

The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”

“Just a little.”

He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”

“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”

You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.

Oh yeah, that’s all gin.

“With your handsome self?”

Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”

“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.

“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.

“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.

Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.

Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.

“So how’s your day been?”

Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"

"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.

Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.

“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”

“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”

“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”

“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”

Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.

Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.

"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."

You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."

"Yeah?"

"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a relief."

Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.

"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”

"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."

"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."

He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.

"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."

He tosses his head back.

"You make me feel so good."

"Aww," you grin. "Me?"

"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."

His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.

A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.

“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”

“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”

I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.

Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.

“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”

His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.

“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”

“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.

“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”

You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.

"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."

"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."

"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."

He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.

"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."

You pause.

"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."

Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”

The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.

You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his—

"Woah, are you okay?"

Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.

Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…

"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."

"Oh..." you begin.

"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”

You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.

"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.

"Steve," you stop him.

"And..." he cuts out.

"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.

"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."

Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.

"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"

You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.

"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"

----

So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.

“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”

He laughs.

“Your brother sounds cool.”

“He was.”

Steve gasps in astonishment.

“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”

“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”

The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.

“Dead to you though?”

“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”

You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.

“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.

There’s a dramatic pause.

“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”

Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.

“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”

“Aw,” you pout.

“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”

Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”

Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.

“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”

“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”

You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.

Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.

“What happened?”

“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”

“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”

“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”

It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.

Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.

“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”

“Do you ever see her here?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”

You chuckle. “With a stripper?”

“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”

“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”

“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”

“I kinda know how you feel.”

You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.

"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”

"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”

"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."

You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.

"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.

He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.

“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”

“Duh, it’s what I just said.”

He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”

“No. Just human to human.”

You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.

"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”

The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.

"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.

"Yeah.”

“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”

Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.

“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."

"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”

"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”

"You're kidding."

You shake your head.

"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."

You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”

Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.

"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”

You bite your lip. "I'd like that."

“Good. I’d like that too.”

———-

"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.

"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."

"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."

"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."

“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”

“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”

————

You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.

You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.

The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.

Knock, knock.

“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”

You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.

When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.

You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.

“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”

“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”

“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”

You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.

“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”

“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”

‘I do it with all my dancers.’

Your heart sinks. Back to square one.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”

The tinge in your heart intensifies.

“Oh, sounds fun!”

“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”

“Have fun, Eddie.”

“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.

Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.

“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.

You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.

Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.

Billy Hargrove

1 Missed Call

Billy Hargrove

iMessage: 1 message

You open it.

What the actual fuck.

[plushverse]

Fandoms I will write for

I will update this list as I think of more things I will write for!

Ace Attorney

Bee and Puppycat

Balan Wonderworld

Black Butler

Castlevania

Danganronpa

Demon Slayer

Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon

Final Fantasy

Genshin Impact

Hellsing (just for Alucard at the moment until I rewatch it)

Honkai Star Rail

Jujutsu Kaisen (I HAVE FINALLY GOT AROUND TO WATCHING IT)

Kid Icarus

Kirby

Legend of Zelda (I am not accepting TotK characters yet as I have yet to play it!)

My Happy Marriage

OFF

One Piece

One Punch Man

Persona games (may take me a bit as well, but I will write for them!)

Pokemon

Resident Evil

Senyuu

Sonic the hedgehog

Stardew Valley

Sun Haven

The Amazing Digital Circus

The Devil is a part timer (I have started watching it again)

That Time I got Reincarnated as a Slime

[alexa-fika]

Ohh if you going to write Platonic reader

how about a male reader who's part of the straw hats and his devil fruit power is that he can talk and use dead people to fight (like Klaus from The Umbrella Academy)

he has a best friend who died but he talks to him all the time so he's never alone (like Klaus and Ben from The Umbrella Academy)

Gone but still there (Strawhats x male!reader)

A/N: I had to change it a little bit since im bot comfortable with the whole controlling dead people to fight nor I think the strawhats would be too happy about that but I made this instead, hopefully it is somewhat appealing to what you envisioned! It is not very good, I would say this one is a flop :(

Dividers by @/saradika

“Okay, are we ready?” Reader exclaims, staring at his crewmates around him. Robin and Nami sat at a table nearby, with Sanji bringing them both snacks and compliments. Zoro sat down in his favorite corner, eyes closed, with Chopper standing close to him; Luffy sat at the head of the Sunny as usual, with Franky and Ussop sitting together, tinkering with some gadgets they had. Jinbe sat at the boat's wheel, keeping watch of the course ahead, Brook standing nearby with his violin.

He looked up at the reader, smiling and waving his bony hand in excitement

“Yes! Im excited to hear what Doctor Hiriluk has to say this time.”

“Yohohoho, and im excited to hear what new songs my old crew-mates have learned since the last time we spoke.”

He smiles

“I promise I’ll go around with everyone!”

He sweatdrops staring at the small girl next to him

“Umm Zoro, I think Kuina really wants to say some things to you…”

His eyes open, and he walks over

"What did you want, Kuina?" he said with a bit of annoyance

He laughs nervously

“she said your form was off in your last fight, that only an idiot would make such a mistake.”

He sighed and shook his head a bit

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he said sarcastically and started moving back to his corner

He sighs

“This is going to be a long one…Ah, Nami, Bellemere says you shouldn’t be hitting your crewmates.”

She gives a small sigh

"Well, when they don't listen, it's what happens. Thanks for the message." She said while fixing her bangs gently as she took a bite from her apple

"Robin You're mom says you should look up the Old Signs? Uh she says that the second part gives some interesting views on cryptography?"

"Hmm I will look into it, thank you for the suggestion"

“What about my Mom?” Ussop questions, glancing at Reader

“She says you should be more careful with your experiments; she hates to see you get hurt when one of them goes wrong.”

He chuckles softly at that

“I’m not a little kid anymore, though…”He said before he fell quiet and went about working with his tools

He cackles at what the crew can only guess is something one of the ghosts has said

“Ussop~ Your mom says you will always be her little baby.”

“That’s what she said?!” His hand froze on the tool in front of him as the other slowly wiped away his sweat, his eyes wide in shock and even some embarrassment at his mother’s words

He can’t help but laugh even harder at Ussop's embarrassment; he glances to the side as his laughs die down, now just chuckles escaping him as he smiles gently at his crew and all the one-sided conversations they were having with their loved ones, every once in a while he would step in to deliver a message to them. Still, even if it was one-sided, none of them cared, happily chatting with their loved ones, knowing they were there, listening to them.

Okay I was honestly debating if to put this one on a timer and then delete it but I think I smoothed it out at the end, but still debating that one.

[anitalenia]

↼𓍢ִ໋♥︎ my private collection ㅤ𓏲⇀

𝗯𝗲𝗹𝗼𝘄 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗮𝗻𝗱𝗼𝗺𝘀 𝗶 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝗳𝗼𝗿, 𝗮𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗲. 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆 ! * ੈ✩‧₊ ⟡ 𝑤𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑝𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 ⟡

IMPORTANT INCOMING MAIL ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ due to the fact I’m only allowed 50 @‘s per post, I will be unable to @ any more authors past that limit. I will still write their names next to the FIC title like i usually do. i hate tumblr rules ☹️

⊹˙⋆ OTHER LINKS ⋆˙⊹ masterlist | taglist | time stamps | guidelines | back home | honorable mentions

✧･ﾟ: * FANDOMS I’M CURRENTLY WRITING FOR ★ The Gray Man | Avatar | Triple Frontier | Slasher | Ari Levinson | Rio (good girls) | Miscellaneous

✧･ﾟ: * ANIME WATCHLIST ★ Kill La Kill | Gangsta | Jujutsu Kaisen | Michiko & Hatchin | Parasyte | One Punch Man | Samurai Champloo | Scissor Seven | Castlevania | Avatar the Last Airbender | Legend of Korra | The Devil Is a Part-Timer! | Demon Slayer

✧･ﾟ: * SOME OF MY FAV. FANDOMS ★ Tokyo Revengers | Obey Me! | Genshin Impact | Jujutsu Kaisen | Haikyuu | Triple Frontier | Marvel | DC | Sons of Anarchy | My Hero Academia | Kill La Kill | The Gray Man | The Slasher fandom

☆。* THE GRAY MAN 。☆。

ONLY THE LONELY | Sierra Six x fem!Reader x Lloyd Hansen ( @charnelhouse )

WHO’S THE BOSS | CEO!Lloyd Hansen x fem!Reader ( @darkficsyouneveraskedfor )

STOP ALL THE CLOCKS | Sierra Six x fem!Reader x Lloyd Hansen ( charnelhouse )

MILK AND COOKIES | daddy!Lloyd Hansen x little!fem!Reader ( @valleyfae )

NICE AND EASY PRINCESS | daddy!Sierra Six x little!fem!Reader ( valleyfae )

THE DEVILS THIRST | daddy!Lloyd Hansen x little!fem!Reader ( @babyjakes )

☆。* TOKYO REVENGERS 。☆。

DEAD IN THE WATER | merman!Ran Haitani x bimbo!fem!Reader ( @manjiroscum )

CAN’T PRETEND | college boy!Manjiro Sano x college girl!Reader ( @blueparadis )

AMBROSIAL WHISPERS | aristocrat!Manjiro Sano x fem!Reader x butler!Haruchiyo Sanzu ( manjiroscum )

☆。* OBEY ME! 。☆。

OTAKU HIDEAWAY | Leviathan x virgin!horny!fem!Reader ( @milqilin )

PORN WATCH | multiple brothers x fem!Reader ( @ange1princess )

BEEL IN A RUT | bull hybrid!Beel x fem!Reader ( @tsumutiny )

☆。* MARVEL 。☆。

A RARE CONDITION | dark!daddy!Bucky Barnes x little!fem!Reader x dark!doctor!Steve Rogers ( babyjakes )

WHAT A WORLD | tarzan!Steve Rogers x doctor!fem!Reader ( @onsunnyside )

BOUND TO YOU | dark!mob!Bucky Barnes x stewardess!fem!Reader ( @flordeamatista )

SWEET SUGAR HANDYMAN | hardware store worker!Steve Rogers x bimbo!Reader ( @buckymorelikefuckme )

SERPENTS TOUCH | hela odinsdottir x fem!Reader ( inklore )

FIXATION OF LUST | Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader ( inklore )

SWEET GIRL OF MINE | Andrew!Spider Man x fem!Reader ( inklore )

MY LITTLE FLOWER | grumpy!Bucky Barnes x sunshine!fem!Reader ( @vase-of-lilies )

LATE NIGHTS | Steve Rogers x fem!Reader ( @princessbellecerise )

☆。* GENSHIN IMPACT 。☆。

none yet…

☆。* JUJUTSU KAISEN 。☆。

HEAVEN AND HELL | angel!Yuuji x fem!Reader x demon!Sukuna ( onsunnyside )

THE SINS OF MORTAL FLESH | dom!Sukuna x sub!Reader ( @prettyboykatsuki )

THE LOVEABLE JOCK | jock!Itadori Yuuji x fem!Reader ( @garoujo )

CALL 1-800-BOYFRIEND#2 | multiple jjk x fem!Reader ( @satorhime )

THE THRILL OF THE RUSH | vampire!Nanami Kento x vampire!fem!Reader ( @nanamibeloved )

WELCOME TO THE PARTY | boyfriend!Toji Zenin x fem!Reader x Gojo Satoru x Geto Suguru x Ryōmen Sukuna ( @sukunababy )

BAKUTO | yakuza!Toji Zenin x fem!Reader ( sukunababy )

THE HAUNTING | dilf!Toji Zenin x ghost!fem!Reader ( sukunababy )

RED RIDING HOOD | Ryōmen Sukuna x fem!Reader ( sukunababy )

☆。* MY HERO ACADEMIA 。☆。

PUPPY PLAYTIME | hybrid puppy!Eljiro Kirishima x owner!fem!Reader ( @eijirhoe )

HOME TO ME | Eljiro Kirishima x hybrid puppy!fem!Reader ( eijirhoe )

☆。* HAIKYUU 。☆。

YOURS FOR ALWAYS, HIS FOR THE NIGHT | Sugawara Koushi x fem!Reader x Kageyama Tobio ( heich0e )

4PLAY | Matsukawa Issei x Hanamaki Takahiro x fem!Reader x Oikawa Tooru x Iwaizumi Hajime ( heich0e )

MAFIA MADNESS | mafia!Ushijima Wakatoshi x fem!Reader ( heich0e )

☆。* TRIPLE FRONTIER 。☆。

STAY QUIET FOR ME | Frank Morales x fem!Reader ( @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis )

NO WAY TO RUN FROM THIS | Santiago Garcia x fem!Reader ( theshireisburning-so-mordoritis )

SIT TIGHT | Benny Miller x fem!Reader ( @say-al0e )

TIDES AND HEAT | Benny Miller x fem!Reader ( @dameronscopilot )

☆。* DC 。☆。

IT MATTERS TO ME | bale!Batman x fem!Reader ( @reveluving )

SURE AS HELL NOT JESUS (BUT YOU’RE SAVING ME) | Battinson x fem!Reader ( @greenorangevioletgrass )

YOU BRING THE PLEASURE, I’LL BRING THE PAIN | Pattinson!Batman x fem!Reader ( inklore )

☆。* ATTACK ON TITAN 。☆。

A YOUNG MANS DREAM | husband!Levi Ackerman x fem!Reader ( @sakurashell )

HIDDEN DESIRES | neighbor!Eren Jaeger x fem!Reader ( sakurashell )

THE PRICE OF CROSSING TWICE | Levi Ackerman x grim reaper!fem!Reader ( @heich0e )

☆。* MISCELLANEOUS 。☆。

DADDYS LITTLE PRINCESS | stepdad!Ari Levinson x bratty!fem!reader ( @evansbby )

PUSH ME DOWN | ghostface!Steve Kemp x virgin!fem!reader ( valleyfae )

THE WARMTH OF YOU | dads best friend!Ari Levinson x fem!reader ( @inklore )

INVOLUTED | Wade Wilson x fem!Reader ( inklore )

OF THE ESSENCE | Tangerine x fem!Reader ( inklore )

FOOL ME TWICE | Joel Miller x muggler!fem!Reader ( inklore )

PROFESSIONAL | Joel Miller x trainer!fem!Reader ( @chloeangelic )

[vizkopa]

Damned if you Do (Devil!Doflamingo x Reader) Part 1

Oops, my hand slipped >.> Warning for blood/gore, religious themes, strong language and LOTS of smut in future chapters!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Part 1: City of Angels?

~

“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” you said, sliding into the confession booth at the Church of St Mjosgard. “It’s been about…” you checked your phone screen, “…three hours since my last confession.”

There came a sigh from behind the screen. “[Name], I’ve told you, you don’t have to say that every time.”

You smirked. “Would you prefer ‘sorry Daddy, I’ve been naughty’?”

Father Rosinante choked, which he elegantly turned into a cough. “No! No, that’s quite alright. How did it go?”

You sat back with a huff, folding your arms across your chest. “He didn’t know anything. Must have been a bad lead.”

“Are you sure?”

“I was very persuasive.”

“Spare me the details.”

You sighed. “I’m running out of time, Father.”

“I know. Have faith, [Name].”

“Easy for you to say, you’re a priest,” you muttered.

“I know things might seem hopeless, but we can’t give in yet. I’ll keep digging. In the meantime, you should go home and get some rest. It’s been a long day.”

“Yeah,” you said, though you hadn’t slept properly in nearly a decade. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

You stood to leave and as you exited the booth, you felt Rosinante’s reassuring hand on your shoulder.

“I’ll keep praying for you.” He squeezed lightly and then dropped his hand.

“I appreciate the gesture, Father,” you said over your shoulder, “but God gave up on me a long time ago.”

It was raining when you left the church. You pulled your hood up over your head and shoved your hands deep into your pockets, shoulders hunched against the downpour as you hurried across the street. It was just your luck, you thought. The last few weeks of your life and it looked like it was going to rain the whole time. You had moved to LA to escape the cold and the wet (among other things), but just like said other things, it too had followed you across the country, it seemed.

As you made your way down the street, you got the distinct feeling you were being watched. Your fingers closed around the consecrated knife in your pocket, senses on high alert. From a dark alleyway somewhere ahead of you, two yellow eyes peered out of the darkness. You felt a small thrill of fear before you realised who it was and relaxed.

“Hello, Law,” you sighed.

A man stepped out of the shadows. Except he wasn’t a man—not really. His eyes, though grey now he was in full view, still held a glint of something unnatural, and his canines seemed longer and sharper than any human’s.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him.

He shook his head. “I have information.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“I found him.”

Your heart quickened at those words, but Law seemed reluctant to say more. “Well?” you prompted, growing impatient.

“[Name]… I don’t think it’s a good idea to go after him.”

You frowned. “Why?”

Law hesitated. “He’s… dangerous. Incredibly so.”

“So, what, I should just wait for my timer to run out and skip on down to Hell without putting up a fight?”

“I’m not saying that. I just… He’s powerful, [Name]. Way more powerful than me or any demon you’ve encountered before. You can’t win.”

“How do you know that?” You folded your arms.

“Listen,” Law took a step closer. “I don’t know his name, but I do know he’s high up the ladder. Perhaps a Marquis or a Lord. Maybe even a Prince. You can’t beat him.”

You sighed. “Thanks for telling me. I’ll see you around, Law.”

“Wait!” He hesitated. “If you… if you still want to find him despite what I told you… There’s a demon called Bellamy. He frequents a demon bar called Corrida. He might know more. But be careful.”

“I know the place. I’ll check it out. Thanks.”

Law melted back into the darkness without another word, and you continued on your way through the rain, contemplating the newly acquired information. Having a demon informant was certainly useful.

Law was an incubus, a demon that fed on sexual energy. In exchange for inside information into the inner workings of Hell, you would keep him ‘fed’, so to speak. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement and nothing more. Rosinante had never approved of the arrangement, but even he had to admit, the incubus had been invaluable thus far.

It only took a few seconds to make your decision. Ignoring your promise to Rosi that you would go home and get some sleep, you changed direction, offering a silent apology to the Father, and going in search of the bar Law had mentioned.

The street was little more than an alley, tucked between a dilapidated office building and a crumbling warehouse. A few loiterers smoking beneath the eaves of a closed club across the street wolf whistled as you passed, but you ignored them. Mortal men were hardly a threat to you these days. Not when your very soul was on the line.

A few patrons looked up as you entered the dark tavern. You ignored them as you made your way to a seat at the bar, gathering more stares as you went. By the time you had sat down, every pair of eyes in the room were fixed on you. You ordered a shot of vodka, which the bartender slammed down in front of you, sloshing liquor over the sides of the glass. You winced as the burning liquid spilled down your throat but ordered a second shot all the same. A demon in the corner stood up.

“You’re not welcome here, Hunter,” he growled.

You held your hands up. “I’m not here to cause trouble. Just looking for a drink and some answers.”

“You’ve had your drink and you’ll get no answers. Leave.”

“Well, that’s rather rude,” you said with mock hurt. “I’m just looking for a guy by the name of Bellamy. Anyone know him?”

A second demon stood up. Horns curled outward from amongst blonde hair and a long, forked tongue lolled out from between pointed teeth. “What’s it to you, Princess? Getting tired of your incubus friend? Fixin’ for some real demon cock?”

The bar patrons chuckled.

You sighed. “Listen, I’ve had a long day of beating up your hellish buddies and I’m real tired. If you could just direct me to your boss, I’ll be happy to get out of your way.”

Bellamy stalked up to you. “So, it was you who killed Caesar today,” he growled. The bar fell silent, and you felt the wave of disbelief and rage that rolled over the crowd. “You made a mistake walking in here, little girl.”

You cursed under your breath, hand slipping into your pocket to close around your knife. You felt the movement of air behind you, and you whirled, knife swinging in a wide arc. The demon who had been sneaking up to grab you from behind reeled backward, his throat gaping and spurting black blood. He fell to the ground and moved no more. There was silence for a beat, before all hell broke loose.

Ragged claws raked at your arm, tearing your sleeve to ribbons and you retaliated with a stab through the offending demon’s eye. You wrenched it out just in time to duck beneath another blow aimed at your head and lunged upwards, feeling the knife sink deep into the space between two ribs and the imminent weight of a body as it grew slack against you. Hot, black ichor poured over your hands and the knife slipped from your hold as the demon went down. You lunged after it, just narrowly avoiding yet another swipe of dagger-sharp claws from a third attacker.

Swearing like a sailor, you retrieved the knife and straightened to find yourself backed against the bar, a wall of bloodthirsty demons between you and the door. Bellamy had slunk away somewhere through the crowd, content to let the lesser demons do his dirty work. Well, there went your one and only lead.

“Enough.”

Though it wasn’t a shout, the word seemed to cut through the chaos like a blade, stilling everyone in their tracks. The dim gloom of the tavern was suddenly cleaved by a shaft of daylight, motes of dust dancing in the air. Some of the demons hissed and shrank away from the light.

A man stood in the doorway. Except that you knew as soon as you laid eyes on him that he was no ordinary man. An oppressive aura seemed to worm its way into the bar, seizing your heart with a cold fear that rendered you motionless. The demons around you all sank to their knees and bowed their horned heads in submission.

He stepped forward and without the halo of light from outside, you could finally see his face. He was beautiful—it was the only way you describe him. High cheekbones, a chiseled jaw, flawless tanned skin. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of white-rimmed sunglasses, but you could tell they were fixed on you. He grinned.

“I was wondering when we would finally meet, my dear,” he purred. An involuntary shudder ran through you and you held the blood-stained knife a little higher.

He stepped forward, the demons parting for him, until there was barely a foot of space between you. He was so tall, you had to crane your neck to look up into his face. His unnerving grin never faltered as he said: “kneel.”

You felt your body obey his command as if you were just a puppet and he your master. You sank to the floor at his feet, every muscle in your body tense as you tried to fight for control, but it was futile. The knife clattered to the floor as your fingers grew numb and heavy. The man reached out and cradled your chin in one large hand. His touch was like fire. You were sure he could see the fear in your eyes.

“You will make a fine Queen,” he said.

Finally, you were able to exercise enough control over your own body to wrench your face out of his hold.

“What?”

“I’ve been watching you a long time. So determined, so driven. Just what I need in a ruler to stand at my side.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you hissed.

He grinned. “There’s that fighting spirit I can’t wait to break.” He smoothed a hand over your hair, tucking the strands behind one ear. You cringed away from his touch. “You resist me now, but it won’t be long before you seek me out. I know your very soul, what you desire more than anything else in this world.”

“The only thing I want is to kill you.”

The demon king chuckled and a few of the demons in the room snickered along with him. You bared your teeth at them, but it was an empty threat. That all-encompassing power still held you tightly in its fist.

“My, my, what a temper. Will you hurt me, [Name]? Torture me like you tortured my underlings while they begged for death? Or will it be quick and clean so you can get back to your incubus whore?”

You could feel your pulse throbbing in your temples, muscles and tendons straining as you raged against your invisible bonds. Words would not come to you.

“I look forward to finding out.” He bent and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek, your skin burning at the touch of his lips. “I’ll be waiting, my Queen.”

With that he was gone, and the invisible weight lifted from your limbs. You snatched up your knife and staggered to your feet and were out the door before any of the demons could react. As soon as you were outside, you vomited into the gutter.

It was him. The demon you’d been hunting all this time. The demon who held your contract.

Shuddering and heaving, you straightened, rain and bile and demon blood dripping off you onto the street, and you sprinted all the way home.