#I am giving ample warning

[flameof]

Okay, Gundam SEED Freedom has completely taken over my brain for the past 24 hours. I ABSOLUTELY MUST GUSH LORE AND PUT IT DOWN SOMEWHERE.

Naturally, there will be major spoilers for Freedom below the cutoff. If you don't want to be spoiled, then TURN BACK NOW, PLEASE.

Okay, we good? Good.

First the lore: A major theme throughout quite honestly the entire SEED series is that of Destiny. Rau le Creuset believed it was humanities destiny to destroy itself, Gilbert Durandal believed humanity would be happiest if their destiny was determined by genetics, and Foundation, the nation introduced in Freedom, follows in Durandal's footsteps, only to a more violet degree.

The main thing that differs Foundation from Durandal is the existence of Accords; basically Ultimate Coordinator MK2. At some point between Ulen Hibiki's initial experiments that created both Kira Yamato and Rau le Creuset, and Durandal being a part of whatever it was when he devised the Destiny Plan (as well as whatever created Rey za Burrel), two particular individuals were a part of the overall scheme. These two were Aura Maha Khyber (the blonde loli), and Lacus' mother.

That's right. Lacus Clyne is an Accord. She, alongside Orphee Lam Tao (blonde dude), were designed with the express purpose of running the Destiny Plan as a couple. Arranged marriage between Coordinators is no big surprise, let's be real. Hell, Lacus was probably genetically coded to be attracted to Orphee, shown in the movie by certain scenes (not show how else to describe them).

But, as you might guess (or know, if you've seen the movie), Lacus still chooses Kira over Orphee. Why? Well, time for some theorycrafting.

It's my believe that the main message of Freedom is one of Nature VS Nurture. Who we are genetically vs Who we are, raised by our environment.

Kira Yamato is a First Generation Ultimate Coordinator, so while he's outstanding compared to normal Coordinators, he pales in comparison to the Accords. But, Kira always said he was more than just the byproduct of Ulen Hibiki's hubris. More than a child of Ulen, he is a Yamato; raised and nurtured by Caridad and Hamura Yamato, after being entrusted to them by Via Hibiki, his mother by blood. Kira's kindness may very well be engrained into his DNA, but it was something he was taught to value by the Yamato's. He could have easily become conceited, like so many other Coordinators, but he didn't.

Just the same, Lacus Clyne, as far as we knew up to Destiny, was raised by the late Siegel Clyne, who almost certainly taught her to value people based on who they are, not what they represent. She can be cunning underneath her cheerful exterior in her youth, but she gravitated towards Kira because he was Kira Yamato; the kind boy who stuck his neck out for a stranger.

A wise dragon once said: Destiny is little more than the sum of our choices. I feel this quote perfectly encapsulates the core of SEED as a whole, not just Freedom. Destiny shouldn't be something chosen for you; it should be something you yourself choose. And in the end, Lacus chose Kira. A common theme in Freedom was the idea of 'Loving someone because you need them', which Lacus herself refutes with "You don't love someone because you need them; You need them, because you love them". Its a sentiment that Kira actually shares, when the woman holding Lacus at knife point threatens to cut our her tongue, or gouge her eyes out, and see if Kira still loves her then, Kira's immediate response... is of course I'd still love her; she's Lacus.

The Destiny Plan, laid out by Durandal, and worked on by so many, like Aura and Lacus's mother, was (ha ha) destined to fail, and I believe it all comes back to the choices two parents, unrelated to each other, made for the sake of their children. Because Via Hibiki got Kira and Cagalli to the Yamato's and Athha's, and all because Siegel Clyne taught Lacus to value the kindness of a stranger, over the power of your destiny.

Funnily enough, I'm remembering a line Kuzzey says back in SEED, about just how much work went into making Lacus's voice the way it is. Turns out; a lot.

It also makes me wonder if Meer Campbell was something of a backup plan, since she sounds identical to Lacus.

Okay, gushing about the new lore done. Now, let's talk about the awesome.

First off: The Immortal Justice is a Shinn Asuka suit, not an Athrun Zala suit. I don't make the rules, but Athrun never sat his ass down in the Immortal Justice.

Next, Agnes Giebenrath can literally be described as 'Coordinator Flay Allster', and I appreciate her for that.

Then, there's all the callbacks to other characters that had passed away, specifically Nicol and Natarle. Those two had complete maneuvers and tactics named after them. They're gone, but never forgotten.

As I mentioned in my last SEED Freedom post, Athrun did stuff with the Z'Gok that would make Char envious. The way Athrun handled that machine made me think he was Master Asia, Undefeated of the East.

Next, as we all well know by now, the way Athrun managed to get one up on the Black Knights' ability to read his mind; by thinking about having sex with Cagalli.

Next! Once more Mu La Flaga proves himself to be the man who does the impossible... by face-tanking FREAKING REQUIEM WITH THE AKATSUKI! Man practically said he had to stop doing that.

Then, there's the new warship, Millennium. Not only is it state of the art, but Murrue, once she starts captaining it, gets her own assault deck where she controls FREAKING GUNBARRELS! The Millennium is a warship sized Moebius Zero!

Finally, for the last thing I want to gush about: Shinn Asuka. Just... all of him. From the fact that he's calmer, earnest, stands up for Kira, drinks his 'respect' juice, and at the end, when he gets the Destiny Gundam back, he faces off against four of the Black Knights, and kicks their asses... WITHOUT TAKING MAJOR DAMAGE. Not only that, but STELLA LOUSSIER makes a comeback, proving definitively that Shinn Asuka is the Kamille Bidan of the CE era, by protecting Shinn's mind from being probed by the Black Knights, freaking them out by going all nightmare on their asses (which is probably just a representation of them being scared by just how much darkness is in his heart), and then immediately followed by him putting the F91 to shame and using the much meme'd about afterimages to kick ass and take names. Shinn may have lost to them before, but only because he wasn't using the machine literally built for him. Also, before I forget, when Shinn went SEED mode during that same battle, the Black Knights couldn't read his mind. Shinn's instincts are just that good.

Okay. I'm done. I've gushed all I can.

[chameleon-sting]

getting back into krita i Needed a brush and i also found out you can set your own brush icons so i made two versions of a brush and then made these to test them out (the test was successful i like my brush and im comfortable sticking to it for a while) and also to keep them separate

[itstherisingdaylight]

chapter 22 of my fic will be posted tomorrow and i need y'all to pay attention to the seventh additional tag on my fic. (screenshot of said tag under cut)

[crescenthistory]

21. (During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time)) with barty n reader pls

(may I be 🪳 anon?)

hi lovely 🪳 anon, finally i got around to your request<33 i made them have an established relationship because i craved bf!barty, hope it still scratches your itch hihi. enjoy your daily dose of barty!

Prompt: 21. During a passionate session, A accidentally draws blood while gripping B’s back (A apologizes over and over while tending to B, who just has a shit-eating grin the whole time) from this list

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: not proofread, smut (mdni), vaguely described smut, fem!reader, sexual jokes, aftercare, accidental blood kink, scratching, established relationship, praise kink, multiple orgasms, soft!barty, barty is a masochist, reader almost cries, cursing, reader is (jokingly) mean to him and he loves it, the l word is said a lot

Note: i am so soft for this man

If there was one way to describe your relationship with one Barty Crouch Junior, it is all encompassing.

Intoxicating, larger than life, obsessive.

He was not one to act half-heartedly in any regard, to both your chagrin and infatuation. It was not half-hearted when he more or less picked you out of the crowd in your first year, claiming you as his best friend without giving you time to react, dragging you by the hand into the whirlwind of his life. It was not half-hearted when he chased off any romantic prospect for you because they were not good enough for you, Treasure, even landing some in the infirmary if they dared hurt your feelings. It was not half-hearted when he finally crumbled under the weight of his own feelings, consequences be damned, and brought his lips to yours in the abandoned Slytherin common room late at night.

And it certainly was not half-hearted how he claimed you, body and soul, ever since whenever ample opportunity arose. 

You had no complaints about that aspect of it.

Which is how your skin was shimmery with a light layer of sweat with Barty’s lazy, toothy kisses lathered all over your neck as he worked into you in the solitude of his dorm. Evenings when you could stay over, the other boys were quickly kicked out by Barty, though to no significant inconvenience for them, as Regulus was more than happy to sneak away with James and Evan was in the middle of pursuing some hot heated Ravenclaw. In their absence, Barty’s presence easily dominated the room, hands roving all over your body as his whispers of worship filled your ears and anything other than him became completely erased from your mind.

Your legs trembled where they had him in a death grip as his skillful ministrations and attentive thumb brought you towards your fourth climax of the night. His name spilled over your lips along with a string of curses as your eyes clamped shut. You could feel his smile through his kisses as he worked beautiful marks onto your shoulders – just far enough down to be shielded from view in your uniform, your shared little secret.

“Fuck, such beautiful sounds from my best girl,” Barty’s voice was hoarse from the past hours, which somehow just drove you crazier for him. “Are you gonna come for me, gorgeous? Let go for me?”

No coherent thoughts could be strung together, your mind going blank with just Barty coursing through it. Instead you moaned prettily in a way that made Barty groan and pick up his speed, determined to coax more from you, just a little more.

Your hands had been clinging to his flexing bicep and tugging at his hair, but as your body came undone beneath him, you resorted to clutching onto his shoulders and back instead. Your nails, that you always kept long enough to satisfyingly scratch Barty’s hair and arms, dug into his skin for leverage, and you half-registered the moans of pleasure he gave into the skin of your neck. As your body shook both from your climax and the movements of him against you, your fingers dragged slowly down his back.

“Oh, gods– Barty–” was all you managed to get out as you clambered onto him, seeing stars. You needed him closer, just a little closer, more.

“Love it when you say my name, Treasure,” he whispered into you as his hips stuttered, finally reaching his own high with a groan. “S’good for me, s’perfect.”

You shakily kiss his shoulder, palms moving to smooth over his back you had just been clawing at, the movement instinctual and dripping with affection. Calming him down, gearing him through his own earth-shattering orgasm.

His movements slowed down, dragging the seconds out, before he finally stilled against you, collapsing with his weight onto you in that way he knew you loved. His hands that had been consuming every piece of flesh, every curve of your body, became almost painfully light now, brushing up your sides, over your arms, a silent thank you. You could read this man without needing to open your eyes or ears.

For a minute you laid there, regaining your breath while also revelling in the smell of him mixed with the haze of sex that filled the room. 

Then, Barty laughed breathily into your shoulder before retreating from his cocoon to look at you with lovesick eyes, propping his weight up onto his elbows.

“That was one for the history books.” His grin was lopsided, sweat still over his eyebrow.

You laughed in turn, giving him a slight roll of your eyes, but you couldn’t disagree. The longer you were together, the more you learned of each other, the more passionate your frequent trysts became. You didn’t think you could love him more.

Still – “You’re deranged, Junior,” you said through a laugh – you couldn’t let the opportunity to tease him slide.

Unfazed, Barty leaned down to press a lazy kiss to your lips and despite your teasing you had no inhibition with kissing him back, passionate and slow. “Maybe,” he said between kisses. “But you love me all the more for it. And I love you too.”

You mumbled an I love you, silly against his lips and you could feel him grin against you. 

All too soon, Barty pulled back and away from you, rolling off your body to reach for his wand on the bedside table to clean the both of you – and the sheets – up. You gazed after him with a look you knew your friends would never let you live down if they were here to see it, studying his features as he laid on his stomach, stretching his arm out. One of his legs were still tangled with yours, as if he couldn’t stand being completely without your touch. The muscles in his bicep flexed deliciously, as did the ripples across his shoulders and back, and –

“Merlin’s tits, Barty, your back!” you exclaimed, instantly snapping out of your daze.

It was normal for you both to be quite marked up after being with each other, especially on nights like this where you could truly take your time. Your hips often had some beautiful bruises grazing its sides, hickies covering your chest and collarbone, sometimes your neck if Barty felt particularly possessive. In turn, you loved giving him your own love bites and his shoulders and biceps often had small indents from your nails digging into them.

But this– Your eyes roved over Barty’s back, the usual pink streaks of teased skin that you left there were now bright red and razor thin, blood piping out at random places. There were many of them, trailing over and around each other, a bloody, angry constellation of your desperation from mere minutes ago.

At your outburst, Barty looked at you over his shoulder with a smug smirk, fingers finally curling around his wand. “What of my back?”

“I– it’s–” you sputtered, one hand wildly gesturing towards him, the other half-covering your mouth as you sat up to get a better view. “You’re bleeding, darling I’m so sorry.”

Barty sat up to match you, grabbing you by your thighs to drag you closer to him. A stupid grin was still plastered over his face. 

“Oh, I know,” he smiled. “It was so fucking hot.”

His words didn’t register with you as you kept fussing over him, attempting to sit at his side so you could see his wounds and his face all at the same time. His hand on your thigh squeezed as he continued to laugh silently.

“You’re bleeding.” You repeated, letting your finger ghost over the skin right beside a particularly bloody scratch. "Gods, I'm so sorry." Your eyes began to sting as they flitted all over his back, and at that Barty seemed to snap out of his humour.

“Hey, Treasure, hey.” He grabbed your hands with his, forcing you to look at him. “It’s fine, love, don’t worry. It’s more than fine actually, I liked it – loved it even. You should really make me bleed more often.”

You stared at him incredulously, as if he was being particularly stupid, eyes still slightly glossy with tears. “What?”

He laughed even more at your confusion, which almost shifted the apologies on the tip of your tongue into scolding. 

“As I said, it was hot. I knew you were drawing blood as you were doing it – didn’t you hear how much I loved it?” His tone was teasing, mischief evident on his face.

You opened and closed your mouth at that, trying to make your post-orgasm brain keep up with the conversation. “I actually didn’t hear anything by that point,” you mumbled, looking between your hands clutched with his and his face, which now looked impossibly more smug.

“Right, that’s on me then,” he teased. You pretended to lightly shove him, but he used your movement against you, trapping you in his arms and dragging you closer to his body.

“You’re so stupid, you know that?” 

“Was I stupid when I made you come once on my fingers, once on my tongue and twice on my–”

You pinched him, making him yelp in a voice so light it made the both of you laugh. You squeezed him in your arms, careful not to let your hands touch his still bleeding back.

“I still wanna say sorry.” You pulled back to look at him. The threat of tears were gone, but your lower lip jutted out ever so slightly, enough that he simply had to kiss it better. So he did, lips softly brushing yours in a way that calmed you down every time.

“Well, don’t,” he murmured against your lips. “Nothin’ to be sorry for, darling. I actually give you blanket consent to please make me bleed again next time. However you want.” He winked at you and you lightly swatted at his arm, though you couldn’t ignore how your blood warmed at his words.

“Shut up,” you mumbled before kissing him again. Your tone made it clear to Barty that he won that conversation.

“As much as I’d love to keep kissing you.” Barty pulled his lips away from yours, holding your face in between his palms. “Can I please clean us up like I wanted, now?”

You simply nodded, leaning back onto your elbows beside him as he quickly flicked his wand over your bodies and the bed. A sigh escaped your lips at the warm feeling across your thighs and stomach, as if somebody had carefully dragged a warm towel over you and immediately dried you off. Barty smiled at you softly when he heard your sounds of comfort.

You reached out to take the wand from his hands and moved to point it towards his back when he snapped out of staring at you and caught the tip of the wand with his hand before you had the time to use it. “What do you think you’re doing?”

You looked at him confused. “Cleaning you up?”

“I already did that,” he retorted. 

“I meant the cuts, Barty.”

He immediately shook his head at that, prying the wand from your fingers – his wand, that wouldn’t even have been as effective when you used it – and giving you an almost offended look. “Nope. They’re staying, if I wanted them gone I would have healed them.”

“Barty–” you began to chide, but he cut you off.

“I want to keep them, Treasure. Little reminder of you. We don’t heal the hickies I give you, hm?” His voice was equal parts teasing and affectionate now, as if your scratches was something precious to him.

“My hickies aren’t painful and bleeding.” You deadpanned at him. He just shrugged, as if your point was entirely irrelevant. 

“You’ll stain the sheets with your blood,” you tried then. 

“How unfortunate that I’m not a wizard who can remove blood stains without any effort.” He tauntingly waved the wand in your face then before leaning over to place it back on his nightstand.

You just groaned at him, hoping he knew that it meant you are insufferable and impossible. He did, and it warmed his heart.

“C’mon, Treasure,” he drawled as he snuck back up beside you, pulling the duvet around the two of you, creating your own perfect cocoon. “You should be flattered, if anything.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, but still pulled him further into your arms, limbs entangling and bare chests pressed against each other. A relaxed sigh escaped you, indicating that you were in no way actually indignant. 

“Just don’t want you to be in pain, B.” Your hand moved up to play with his hair, culprits lightly scratching at the nape of his neck.

Barty’s eyes softened at that and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead. “‘S not painful, love, I’m good. I’m all good.” His words were whispered against your skin. You closed your eyes at the sensation, the safety of it all.

“You sure?”

“I swear it.”

You hummed, relenting, and finally buried your face in his neck as he pulled you closer. Sporadic kisses were pressed into your hair, your shoulder, as you continued with your soft conversation filled with praises and small declarations of love. You didn’t notice you were beginning to slip away before your breath slowed against Barty’s skin and he glanced down, smiling when he saw your sleeping form. His fingers drawing patterns on your back spelled out I love you as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin.

“Goodnight, my love.”

[muntitled]

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐞

Farleigh Start x Fem!Reader

Summary: Hating Farleigh had never stopped him from using you

Content Warnings: Language, Fwb, Forbidden Relationship, Unedited, Dark Fic, Dark Humor, Coarse Jokes, Jealousy, Possessiveness, Smoking, Weaponizing!Ollie, Smut (+18), Minors DNI, Slight CNC, Breeding, Neediness, Exhibition Kink, Grinding, Extreme Degradation, Humiliation Kink, Praise Kink, Hate Sex, Hair Pulling, Rough sex, Messy Sex, Spitting, Orgasm Control, Dirty Talk, Choking

He'd definitely bully me if he was real, and I'd be in love with him

"It's not like we're actually going to eat anything. Mother only insists we all make use of the furniture," Venetia's rambling is incessant as she walks briskly into the dining hall. You know her irritation is the by-product of the undiagnosed anxiety that comes with being forced into an uncomfortable Dior slip on such short notice.

In all fairness, you weren't doing so well either. The dress you are currently wearing is just as suffocating and Venetia's Saint Laurent heels dig into your bone. Your outfit is a velvety, laced up nightmare.

A torture chamber.

You wholeheartedly wanted to crawl into your own bed and forget about everyone and everything. In fact, the only thing keeping you mildly excited for dinner with The Henrys happens to be-

"Gentlemen!" You exclaim, before cleverly adding, "And you've brought Farleigh with you."

You all congregate at the left side of the dinner table, while the Henrys and The Henrys wives all mill about the dinner party. There are'nt any rules to things like this. It's all so self explantory.

What was not all too self explantory was your seating positions. Venetia forces you to sit in between herself and a very vexed Farleigh.

"How interesting," Farleigh barely addresses you in his tired monotonous lilt, "You're almost, nearly, just about, decently dressed." You bristle as you lower your behind to your chair, all while Farleigh shoots you a tight-lipped smile.

"Wow!" Your words drip with sarcasm, promptly halting Farleigh from flirting with the man to his immediate left - one of the Henrys closeted sons, no doubt. "That almost, nearly, just about sounded like a compliment!" You exclaim before leaning over beside him in a daring display of confidence. You place your hand tentatively on his thigh before whispering, "Am I going to have to use my rape whistle?"

Farleigh's scoff sends a string of lightning shooting down your spine.

"You're such a slut, I think you'd enjoy probably enjoy it." His breath is hot against your cheek and would be considered vile.

It should be vile.

Why can't you bring yourself to find Farleigh as vile?

With his elbows lowered underneath the table like a good little gentleman, Farleigh lets his fingers crawl tentatively over your thigh.

The games are on.

Your heart is beating at a million miles an hour with your mind reeling at not only Farleigh's large warm palm finding its home on your ample thigh but his words.

They are in complete contrast to everything you two have experienced together thus far on your stay in Saltburn.

As his fingers inch their way towards your inner thigh you're absolutely breathless. All you can think about is your escapade in the pool the evening before.

Both Catton siblings had been immersed in a very Catton argument, leaving you and Farleigh to your own devices on the banks of the stone pool.

With both your arms leaning over the ledge of the pool and Farleigh pressed to your side, no one could barely tell that Farleigh already had two digits dipped inside your weeping cunt. His hand moved slowly and deftly, so as not to cause too much of a stir in the water and give you two away. And he did it all while leaning his free hand out of the pool, cradling his copy of Jane Eyre with his eyes glued on the pages.

"F-Fuck Farleigh, can I cum?" He sighed at your agitated state.

"Not until I'm finished with Chapter 18." He mumbled almost distractedly, as if your needy voice was something akin to a pesky fly interrupting his reading.

Chapter 18, as you'd probably guessed, had never ended.

His cousins were back from their argument and his fingers left your cunt just as quickly. You had both went back to pretending to hate each other and you were left to 'rub one out' in the safety of your room like some hormonal teenager.

You truly are furious with him.

"What's this I'm hearing about a rape whistle?" Felix pipes up from the other side of Farleigh, equally dressed up all spiffy for the Henry's "You didn't rape anyone, did you?"

Farleigh's response is more of a hiss, "Of course I didn't-"

"Surely there must be more savory topics of discussion at the dinner table other than rape?" Comes the quick mediation of Elsbeth, who sits at the head of the table, clutching her string of expensive pearls as if they weilded the power to rid her of all these insolent little kids.

"Of course there is," you exclaim before turning your head to smile at the presence beside Ventia, nestled quietly in his seat like a little pauper.

Farleigh's manicured fingernails sink half moons into the skin of your thigh, peeking up from the slit of your dress as you lean away from him and say, "You must be Oliver! It's a relief to see another commoner around here." It was so undeniably petty to weaponize Farleigh's greatest foe, but the vexation of not being made to cum the night before still hangs heavily on your shoulder. And at the end of the day, you really just were a petty bitch.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ollie!" Slightly leaning over Venetia, the boy looks pale. As if he was biting down on his words. God, his tongue must be riddled in scars.

"Pleasure to meet you." Oliver cooly mirrors the warm and inviting smile stretched across your face.

"Don't lean over me," Venetia mumbles, "I'm not a child."

Meanwhile, Farleigh scoffs once again. While he injects himself in your conversation, his hands move swiftly to cup your vagina, nearly raking a gasp out of your throat in the process. "She won't sleep with you, mate." his brown eyes are trained on Oliver's. "She's a slut but not that big of a slut."

The extreme degradation laced in Farleigh's voice is enough to have you nearly moan out in front of all your friends, their family, and all the bloody Henrys.

Farleigh knew exactly which buttons to push to have you melting catastrophically against his fingers. He knew what words could have you slipping into subspace and he knew how to get your cunt weeping.

"Jesus Christ, could we not do this right now?" Venetia asks, staring pointedly at her cousin, and not at the sight of your legs parting to further accomdate his lazy rubbing against your cunt.

"I'm sorry, Cousin," Farleigh replies, "but it's not my fault your best friend is a raging bitch."

A breathless chuckle escapes your clenched teeth, "I-I'm not a-"

"Yeah, I am so completely done with this conversation," Venitia says, before strangling the stem of her wine glass and chugging it down as if it was nothing but water.

You turn back to hiss into Farleigh's ear, "You're such an a-asshole-"

"Say that again but don't sound like you're on the verge of squirting on my fingers in the middle of dinner." His grin is shadowed by the dimness of crystal chandlier and all the little candles posted along the table. "This is what you get for being a bitch," he says, socasually it makes you break your resolve by shifting in your seat, to better grind your cunt against his fingers, even for a mere second.

It's almost enough to make you cum right then and there.

"Oh-ho!" He aims a guffaw at the sky, "You really are a needy little slut-"

"This dress is shit," you suddenly push yourself out of your chair, creating the minimal noise of wood scraping against the floors. Most eyes are on you and Farleigh slyly removes his hands from in between your thigh. He leans over the table, bringing his fingers to his lips before spreading them over his gums like you would cocaine.

"I have to go change." You say to Venetia, before promptly (and very rudely) bowing out of the dinner.

A few seconds later, you hear Farleigh mumble something about needing a smoke and your heart rattles wildly in its cage. His footsteps are brisk behind yours, and you can feel his eyes sinking into your figure.

While your feet carry you to your destination and you let your brain catch on, you're already sneaking into Farleigh's room.

"Ah! Trespasser!" He exclaims excitedly behind you, with his hands stuffed in his pocket.

"You're so fucking annoying!" Your complains barely escape your throat before he's attacking you in a sloppy, open mouth kiss. He steals the air right out of your lungs, until he's breathing for the both of you. Farleigh slips out of his Abercrombie suit blazer, discarding the material as if it truly meant nothing to him.

His hands are everywhere, with special interests in your breasts compressed tightly by the uncomfortable stitching of your dress.

"This dress..." you mumble distractedly.

"Fuck this dress." He says, and you wholeheartedly agree. Perhaps it was desperate of you to turn in haste. Lifting the ends of your hair to present the zipper to him.

"You look fucking ravenous." He admits in a grave whisper, with his lips grazing the side of your neck, "I wanna fucking eat you." He says, "I wanna be inside you."

"You have such a dirty mouth, Farleigh," the groan that escapes his throat as he zips down your dress lets you know that you may have found your way in.

As the dress spills around your heeled feet, followed by your lacey underwear, Farleigh reattaches his full lips to the skin of your back. "What did you say?" His voice is like the rough gravel encircling Saltburn and you let your eyes roll to the back of your head as you arch backwards against him. His hardness presses against your ass and your fingers weave their way into his curls.

"I said youre a dirty boy, Farleigh." He ruts against you, almost as a second thought. "A dirty fucking boy,"

"Fuck," his hands dig into your hips, rubbing you against him. All as he pleases. "Fucking, fuck. I'm not gonna cum like this-" He says suddenly before spinning you back around.

It is few and sparse moments when you're reminded just how much taller Farleigh is than you and eventide it happens, the wind is knocked out of you. Farleigh advances on you like a literal predator until you're forced to fall backwards on his bed.

He barely undoes the bowtie, and only a few buttons go loose enough to showcase the beautiful expanse of his chest.

"You're absolutely soaked aren't you?" He asks, hovering on the bed above you.

"I need to cum, Farleigh, please-" You knew it was the only way to get what you wanted. You had unashamedly resorted to begging for a man who hooked his nails into your hair, forcing you to sit upright as he parted your legs.

"Look at you," he whispers before cackling maniacally. "You're so stupidly wet, you filthy fucking girl-"

"O-oh fuck, Fuck Farleigh," Your try by all means to grind your cunt into the mattress but is doesn't happen.

"When are you going to learn that I own your orgasms?" He whispers, with his other hand furiously undoing the belt of his fitted pants. "You don't cum until I say. You don't touch yourself until I say. You don't even fucking think about cumming until I say-"

"You're such a big little baby," you spit back, "A big needy, little b-"

You're once again pushed backwards and Farleigh's mounting you with his leaking cock locked tight in his fist.

You automatically lift your legs to present your cunt to him and he groans at the sight.

"I'm going to cum inside of you." He promises.

"I want you too."

Farleigh's eyes are heavy as he slides himself inside you. He looks down at you like you were the most precious thing in the world to him. A treasure trove.

"Fuck- I need you to carry on talking." Farleigh says before shutting his eyes tightly. "Fuck you feel so good-"

"You're doing so well, baby," his hips rut inside you, accidentally pushing his cock in way too deep, way too fast and you both hiss and moan. "Such a good boy," you say with your hair finding his own curls, "You're being such a good fucking boy, Farleigh-"

"Open your mouth," you comply robotically. Farleigh places his hands on the underside of your chin before tipping your head backwards. His chains dangle above you as you stick your tongue out and he spits directly into your mouth. "Such a slut," he says, "Such a filthy fucking good girl." His words have you grinding your cunt against his cock until soon, you're both on the precipice of cumming.

"F-Fuck-"

"Such a good girl," he whispers, with his breath ghosting yoir face and the sound of skin slapping against skin only grows louder and louder. "S-So fucking good-" He whispers over and over again until your cunt clenches around his cock, promting Farleigh's orgasm with a quickness.

His cum spilling inside you has you slipping unceremoniously into your own orgasm and Farleigh wails in both the pleasure of your cunt milking him dry, or your fingers still pulling his hair like crazy.

"Fuck!" He exclaims before slumping on the bed beside you, "Get your fingers out of my hair, you psycho-"

"You love it, though," there's a teasing lilt in your voice, and all Farleigh does is scoff before patting down the pockets of his pants.

"You give me endless reasons to smoke," he says, before tipping his head back, unknwongly leaning into your embrace as your fingers coil through his soft curls.

"You'd smoke anyway."

[stsgooo]

Subconscious Reassurance.

✩࿐ summary: even the strongest has dreams he longs to be reality.

warning(s): slight 236 spoilers, shibuya incident spoilers, mentioned death, poor coping mechanisms, lovesick!gojo, girldad!gojo, as usual not proofread (it’s 2 am give me a break). wc; 3.6k

pairing(s): gojo satoru x reader

a/n: keep seeing tiktoks about the lamp story and this came to me. it’s a shortie but i just wanted to get this out. also do we prefer the colorless manga panels or the ones like the above one? i was messing with filters on picsart so lmk :)

divider 1 | previous work | ao3

SATORU ARRIVED HOME EXACTLY 7 PM.

He knew it was true because that’s the time he always arrived. There was no need to glance at the clock or question anyone around him. He knew it was 7PM.

The sun was peeking through the curtains and basking your shared home in a golden hue. Warmth enveloped his very being as he closed the front door behind him. There wasn’t a surface that wasn’t being touched by the sun, that wasn’t feeling the same feelings he did.

The sky outside was illuminated in a mixture of purples, reds, oranges, and pinks. A palate that could be implemented into his very soul and he’d smile in return.

“Daddy!”

The call was familiar and came exactly one minute after Satoru walked through the door.

Again, he didn’t need to glance, he just knew.

A smile blossomed on his lips and he crouched down to catch the little girl that jumped into his arms with a loud squeal. Her nose pressed into her cheek as she happily rambled about how much she missed him. A norm and a routine that he greeted happily with his own reassurances that he missed her infinitely more.

"Daddy," she whined, her tiny chubby fingers reaching up for his blindfold. "Can't see your eyes, daddy."

This happened every night after he arrived home. She would always frown and trace her nails over where his eyes would definitely be. Most of the time it was uncomfortable and, frankly, a little scary, but he always welcomed it with an overly dramatic gasp.

"Oh, sorry, daddy forgot!" He hooked his finger under the fabric and pulled it down to rest against his neck. Her eyes (which were his) met his and brightened considerably. "Is that better, Rie?"

Rie nodded enthusiastically. "Yes!"

Despite the aching behind his right eye, Satoru kept the blindfold off for Rie’s sake. She had always expressed her upmost displeasure for the item since she was a baby. Crying and crying until he finally pulled it off. It’d been a rough first few years trying to get used to pulling the thing off whenever he got home. But he’d grown accustomed to it.

“What’s mama up to?” Satoru asked softly, tracing his finger briefly over the bridge of Rie’s nose as she giggled.

The little girl swayed slightly in his arms. “Mama’s been working in the eating room—“ dining room, Satoru softly corrected with a smile, “—she put on on Yuki for me to watch while she worked.”

“Yuki, huh? Lucky you!” He playfully pinched her cheek which resulted in her swatting his hand with a resounding “daddy!” in protest. Satoru adjusted her on his hip and raised an eyebrow. “Should we go bother mommy?”

Like usual, Rie enthusiastically nodded in response.

Poor you.

True to his routine, he made his way from the front door towards the dining room, loudly. He left no room for you to not hear him coming him and gave you ample opportunity to prepare for his and Rie’s interruption on your precious work (he swore you were almost as bad as Nanam— …. as… as…).

The smile on his lips didn’t falter as his mind trailed away from the forgotten name. What was forgotten obviously wasn’t entirely important. He enthusiastically turned the corner, arm thrown out as Rie squealed happily as his rather jerky movements.

You were as you always were. Responsible. In your usual space occupying your rightful position.

Despite the loud (dramatic) entrance he made, you did not react in anyway. Your eyes were glued to your screen as you furiously typed away a response to whoever got on your bad side today. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight. In fact, this should’ve been around the time Gakuganji of Ya— someone of higher standing emailed you something that didn’t sit right with you. Even the appearance of your amazing and rambunctious husband didn’t seem to deter you from your mission.

Satoru pouted, huffing as he peacefully placed Rie down (the girl now more interested in the TV returning to her show), and crept closer to you. Still, you did not look away.

He leaned over, his chin hooked over his shoulder as he peeked over the words you were putting out into the world. Oddly, he couldn’t read any of the screen. He tried squinting your eyes and blinking a few times— nothing. It was more reminiscent of gibberish than any Japanese he knew. None of it seemed to stay in one place and it all smashed together to create a blob.

You knew how to read and write, he knew that much. Was it something with his eyes? He doubted it. But something wasn’t—

The laptop clicked close.

“You’ve never been one to take a hint, Satoru,” you turned your head to place a soft kiss against his temple in greeting. He could feel your tiny smile against his skin. The warmth of your lips. The coolness of your silvia left behind. His chest ached. He missed— missed? “Although, I knew that before I married you.”

He pushed away the mud in his mind and turned his head, placing a peck against your lips. Strawberries. You always had remnants of strawberries on your lips. Rie’s favorite fruit.

“I think it’s one of my many charming qualities.” He hummed.

You rolled your eyes, but placed a chaste kiss against his lips once again. “Charming is pushing it.” You patted his cheek. “It’s definitely an interesting characteristic.”

Satoru pouted. “You make it sound so unappealing.”

“Well, if the shoe fits…”

He snorted in response, standing to his full height and peeking at you from over his nose. “You know, you’re not innocent either. Thought you said the TV would rot her brain, now you’re putting it on to keep her distracted?” He spared a glance to where Rie was hanging off the couch, upside down, her eyes glued to the television.

You shot him an incredulous look. “Because she’s your daughter and has the self restraint of a puppy. I needed a hour to get some things done.” You pat the top of your laptop. “Sue me.”

Satoru smirked. “I just might for emotional damages.” He gestured towards the laptop with a vague hand. “What exactly had you typing up a storm?”

There was a brief wave of giddiness in his chest when he saw the look in your eyes darken. Passion. Anger. Protectiveness. There were so many things he loved about you. Adored you for. Made him sick to his stomach whenever he thought about it.

“Well, I got an email from —— about some work in Shibuya, but I told him I already checked it out and suffered for it. Well, guess what he said? ——— and ———— suffered too so I can’t complain much. Set me off a bit, had to give him a piece of my mind and remind him what happened.”

Satoru wasn’t sure if he was having a stroke or he was just too awestruck by your beauty; but he swore that your voice simply stopped whenever you spoke names. As if your voice box couldn’t get it out. But you carried on like it was nothing. Your lips had even formed around the words that so desperately wanted to be out there, but were never uttered. You didn’t look panicked or disturbed. If anything, you looked normal. Just sipping from your capri sun that was definitely forced on you by Rie.

It was like he was the only one not hearing it.

It vaguely concerned him, but he was also Gojo Satoru. Sometimes weird things happened that had no explanation.

“But,” you continued once you swallowed down the fruit punch liquid with a twisted face. “I suppose I can’t really blame anyone for what happened. It was Halloween, we were all caught off guard. Some of us suffered for it more than others.”

Satoru, for the life of him, couldn’t recall what happened on Halloween. But he should. He had that overwhelming feeling that he really, really should.

Either way, he gave a nonchalant shrug, “Eh, my motto is that it’s always easier to forgive and forget.” He snatched the remainder of your capri sun and gave a loud slurp.

You grin, resting your chin on your cupped fingers. “I suppose so.” You eyed him warmly, then nodded to the chair next to you. Always warm. Always welcoming. “Now, what did you get up to today?”

Satoru groaned, flopping onto the seat with a creak. He placed the capri sun down to place his hands against his face. “Two specials grades in Iwate, one grade one in Kagawa, then three nasty things leeching off on the playground on the way home.” He knew he should feel exhausted. He usually did. But that day, this day, he did not. If anything, he felt well rested.

Odd.

You hum softly. “They’re overworking you, Satoru,” your tone is barely there. Your words could be missed if the house had any movement or loud noises. But it was just you and him. The soft background noises of your daughter. Always you and him. “They should recognize that you’re just a man. One day it’ll be too much. One day you’ll snap in half.”

Satoru frowned, finding the sudden shift in tone a little unsettling. “I’m the strongest, no need to worry.” He waved a passive hand in the air between you.

“I’ll always worry. It’s been my job to worry.” Your eyes moved towards Rie almost melancholic. “She’ll worry too, you know. She does worry. More than she should at 10.”

Satoru frowned deeper. “Eh…?” He blinked slowly, eyes sliding to Rie with confusion. 10? Was he crazy? Blind? Since when was the little girl sitting on the couch 10? Last he checked, she was six. It was 2012. Were you losing it on him? Was this your subtle way of telling him you’re spiraling again? “Baby, she is not—“

“I know you worry too. Think you’ve been worried about losing since the moment you got home.”

Losing? He’s never lost. Well, except those few times. But they didn’t count. Those were intentional loses.

Satoru was beginning to feel as though you both were having two different conversations. “Y/N, I’m not following.” He stated softly, eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you have to do tomorrow, Satoru?” You breezed through as if you knew where that was going. A pensive expression on your face now.

Again, he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Tomorrow? I…Well, I’m going to Shinjuku to… to…” To…what…? What was it he had to do? He could feel it deep in his chest. That ache. That unfamiliar emptiness that made him rub over his heart softly. There was something he was missing.

“Tomorrow’s going to be romantic,” You said wistfully, eyes distant as you sighed. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

December 24th.

December 24th. So I don’t have to remember two different dates.

How romantic.

Satoru felt his gut churn. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t explain it but everything felt so tight now.

“I’m not.. I don’t…?”

Why couldn’t he get words out. Why did he stare at you like that? Unmoving, unblinking? Why did his eyes collect with tears.

Why did you look so sad?

You reached out, taking his hand. It’s cold. It feels cold. Not like the usual warmth that envelopes him whenever you held him. Whenever you reached out from him.

You’re cold.

You take his hand. “Satoru, what’s happening tomorrow?”

Seriously, what is with you?

Satoru clenched his jaw. “What are you doing?” He wasn’t sure why but he felt so unnerved. He felt like he’s been disillusioned. As if his world was crumbling. But he didn’t get it. He didn’t understand.

You’re cold.

You looked briefly disappointed in his response. “You’re not well. You’re trying to appear to be, but you’re not. She worries. She’s so worried. And you know it.” Your hand reached out and cupped his cheek. Your cold thumb gently stroked against his bone, against the tears that were flowing— why was he crying?

“I’m fine. Just a little tired.” He didn’t feel tired. “I just need a nap.” He didn’t feel tired.

“Oh, Satoru, I’m so sorry,” you uttered it, barely audible. But it was enough to conjure up an earth shattering sob from his chest. A heartbroken tremble under your touch. “I’m so sorry for leaving you.”

“You’re right here?” Confusion was clear in his tone and his expression as he stared back at you.

You just smiled sadly in response.

He shook his head. “You’re right here.” He prided a finger against your chest. Firm. But cold.

You tilted your head and blinked slowly at him.

Satoru wasn’t sure why, but he took in as deep breath. Like he couldn’t quite catch it in the first place.

“You didn’t— You’re right here!” He desperately clutched onto your hand, pressing your skin against his own. “You’re right here. This-This is real. This-This is you. Please. Please, this is you.”

You only stared sadly in response.

Satoru wasn’t sure what was happening. Why he was so panicked or why he felt so terribly sad— but he knew it was making him quiver and sob. Why? Why? Why did this all have to happen to you? Of all people had you been the one to suffer?

What suffering?

“I…” He felt breathless. Feather light. He felt like he had no control of his lips or his tongue. “Tomorrow I fight… Sukuna…?”

Sukuna? Since when? When did—

“Since before Shibuya. Since before Itadori Yuji.” You answered his thoughts.

Itadori Yuji. Satoru thought that name sounded familiar. A blank face appeared in his mind, the back of a pink hair head facing him. Itadori Yuji.

He felt like he was living someone else’s life. As if he were placed in some point in space where nothing bad could touch it.

But these feelings, these tears, this ache in his chest wasn’t peaceful. It wasn’t safe from the darkness of the world.

“Nanami… Yaga… Nobara…” You uttered the names that made his ears ring. That made his muscles tense and his heart sputter to a catastrophic halt. “But still you dream of Suguru…. of me…. of the lives you desperately want to hold on to.”

Suguru… you…

Satoru’s lips quivered.

Suguru… you….

“Why?” You asked the million dollar question.

Breathless whispers against sweat slick skin. Endless touches of tense muscle. Hair hanging and tickling. Eyes sure and hardened with undoubted honesty.

Why? Satoru thought that question was dumb. Why would the earth dream to reach out for the moon and the sun?

He stared at you, big blue eyes glittering with shimmering tears. “I’m the strongest… I should’ve saved the ones I loved… I should’ve… I’m the strongest.”

To be whole. To be loved. To love.

You sigh softly. Sadly. “Satoru, you can’t save everyone.”

“But I could.”

“Obviously not.”

The words were final. Absolute. No doubt. And he supposed, a deep part of him knew, you were right.

But that other part of himself. The one that hated himself for what happened, for whatever happened, convinced him otherwise.

“You don’t—“

“Get it?” You raised an eyebrow at his blink. “I’m your subconscious. I’m your deepest, most personal thoughts. I get it.”

Satoru stared in return. “…huh?”

You pressed your lips together. “Satoru, you’re the strongest. But you don’t always have to be.” You whispered if. A nefarious secret between the both of you that couldn’t be touched. That couldn’t be shared outside of this setting. You scoot closer in your chair. You’re slotted between his legs. “There’ll come a time where you need to step back. To rest. And let those you’ve guided this far to do their jobs.”

Resting. Stepping back.

No one had ever spoken those words to him before. It was never a guarantee nor was it ever a possibility. He feared, even now, he couldn’t even dream about something like that.

Are you the strongest because you’re Gojo Satoru? Or are you Gojo Satoru because you’re the strongest?

Years later, Satoru didn’t know what to make of his words. But Suguru had always known him better, he supposed.

Distracted, he didn’t realize you had started to card your fingers through his hair, bringing his head against your shoulder. It was a blissful moment when he came to his senses. When he felt your fingers ghost his scalp. When he felt your lips brush against his temple.

“You should take a nap, you look tired.”

The moment the words left your lips, his eyes felt heavy and he felt exhausted. He hadn’t felt tired before. He would love to sleep. But…

“What about you?” He whispered, eyes unmoving from your face. He studied the bow of your lips. The softness and warmth of your eyes. The faint blush across your cheeks. The little wrinkles on your forehead. “If I close my eyes, you’ll be gone.”

“No,” you shook your head and placed your free hand against his rapidly beating heart. “I’ll be here.”

How cliche. He wanted to say. But he would take it. He’d take and savor any moment with you.

He took in a shuddering breath. “I love you.”

“I love you.” No hesitation. No doubt. How could this be a dream? Something of his own mind? He nuzzled into your neck with a small sigh. “Take care of her.”

Take care of her.

Take care of her.

Satoru woke with a soft gasp.

He was not happy or surprised to find the ceiling of his dark room instead of the dining room.

The clock next to his bed illuminated 2AM in angry red outline. He’d been asleep for approximately 4 hours. And dreamt of you. Again.

His jaw clenched as he tried to push down the tears that threatened to spill over. You, angelic, in your rightful place typing away. That’s what you should be doing.

Instead, you were one of the first to die in Shibuya.

It’d been you, then Nanami, then Nobara, then whoever else.

She got caught up with Noritoshi in the tunnels, that Death Womb Painting kid tried to explain to Satoru when everyone else had been too distraught and nervous to reveal it themselves. She didn’t suffer.

It didn’t bring him comfort. Satoru was pretty sure it was a lie, but it still brought him no comfort.

It gave him all the more reason to make Kenjaku suffer.

December 24th.

Today was the day.

Almost two months since your death. Christmas Eve.

Satoru was pretty sure he was about to do the same. Embrace death for the sake of others.

He could look around, tell all of them that he’d win, but there was that growing inkling that this was mounting up against him. That Sukuna— Megumi— knew exactly what to do to get one up on him. He feared the unknown. The possibility this was it.

What would you say?

“Dad?”

Satoru’s eyes dragged from the ceiling and to the spot next to him.

Now 10, Rie was older and less rambunctious. But he blamed that partly on your death and his sudden sealing.

She had clung to him since he returned. Tears streaming down her face as she hugged him, begged him to never go again— she thought she’d lost him just like mama. (It’d been six years since he heard her call you mama.) And she slept in his bed. Said she couldn’t sleep otherwise. She’d curl up against him and he’d run his hands through her hair as he hummed a long forgotten lullaby to guide her to sleep.

Shoko said she needed this. Him.

Satoru knew she needed you.

“Rie, did I wake you?” He asked sympathetically.

“No,” surprisingly, it sounded like the truth. “I’ve been up.”

He frowned, “Why?”

There was a prolonged pause between them. A thick layer of hesitation passed and Satoru tensed up. What could she possibly be up for?

When he heard the small sniffle, his heart ached.

He sat up and drew her into his arms, holding her close as he pressed kisses against her head. “Hey, hey, why are you crying?”

“I don’t want you to die!” Rie sobbed immediately. “I don’t want you to fight stupid Sukuna! I just want you to stay here with me— I can’t lose you too!”

I can’t lose you too.

Satoru pressed his lips together as tears sprung to his eyes. “Rie, I’m not going to die.” Such sure words for a man who was worried over his own mortality only moments ago. Who had to be reassured by his subconscious image of his dead wife that it’s okay to lose.

Rie shook her head frantically. “No! I heard Kusakabe say you will!” She sobbed, clutching onto his night shirt with a vice like hold.

Satoru silently cursed the man as he rubbed Rie’s back. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? What does Kusakabe know anyway, the schmuck?” His poor attempt at joking fell flat, Rie only continued to cry. With a heavy sigh, Satoru pulled back, holding her face in his hands. “What do I always say, hm? I’m the strongest. I’ll get one up on him.”

Rie stared up at him and Satoru was painfully aware of how young she was. “You promise?” She uttered.

Satoru hesitated.

If he were to promise and it didn’t actually work out, who was he? Would she resent him for the rest of her life? Would she try to forget him and spit on his memory? He’d been promised many things in life by people he looked up to and every single one had been broken. Resentment festered. Trust was broken.

What kind of father was he if he—

Take care of her. She worries.

Satoru tucked some of her hair— your hair— behind her ear. “I promise.” He whispered, pressing a tender kiss against her forehead. “I promise.”

Rie clutched onto him once again. “I love you.”

No hesitation.

“I love you too.”

The worries of Sukuna and Kenjaku could wait until morning. Satoru had to focus on her now.

Take care of her.

[suugarbabe]

it's you | j.p. x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: fluff

Suggested song to play: Since I've Been Loving You by Led Zeppelin

an: for the fourth week of finalgirllx and thatdammchickennugget jinxedjuly, also i did not personally proofread but pizzaapeteer did so thanks!

Small apologies leave your lips any time you bumped into another person, which was a lot. “So sorry,” as you duked under someone’s arms, “pardon,” as you squished through an opening of people. You sneak a peek behind you, but you can’t seem to find even a glimpse of James in the crowd. You weren’t sure if this meant you were winning or losing your little wager with him; honestly you weren’t sure if you’d rather win or lose. 

As you and your friends arrived at the last stage of the festival, you couldn’t help the slight frown that appeared on your features at the length the crowd had come to. An arm was thrown over your shoulder as Sirius’s teasing voice came next, “What’s wrong, doll? I thought you were excited to see Zep?” You slumped your head against his shoulder, “I am excited, I’m just a little sad we’re so far away.” Sirius grew a smirk you couldn’t see, “What, you were hoping Robert Plant would sweat on you?” 

You shoved him playfully, “Sodd off, Black.” A roar of laughter occurred behind the two of you, “Yeah, sodd off, Black.” Sirius turned to give his glasses clad friend the finger. James sidled up next to you, dropping his voice to whisper, “Why are we telling him to sodd off?” Your previous frown turned upwards, “I was just sad about how far we are and he was just being a moron.” James smiled at this, “Isn’t he always, love?” You nodded, biting your lip to hide your growing smile as Sirius was walking back over. 

“You know,” James started, “we could probably get you a little closer.” You raised your eyebrows at this, “Pray tell, sir.” James turned toward the crowd, an arm extended toward the crowd, “You see that booth in the middle there?” You followed his gaze, seeing a small booth in the middle of a slew of people, “You mean the soundbooth?” James nodded, “I bet we could get there.” 

Raising your eyebrows slightly and crossing your arms you wore a look of slight disbelief, “And how would we manage that?” James flashes all his teeth with his charming smile, “Just a little zipping and zogging, darling.” A groan left Sirius’s throat near you, “Is Prongs making promises he can’t fulfill again?” Remus came up behind him, wrapping his arms around Sirius’s waist and he buried his face in the crook of his neck, “Be nice, Pads.” 

Sirius got a look on his face that made you suddenly feel nervous, and the words that left his mouth did nothing to help calm them, “Why don’t we make it interesting hmm? Last one there owes the other a secret.” If you would have turned around you would have realized that Sirius’s cocky glare was not aimed at you, but at James whose cheeks were tinted the darkest shade of scarlett. You also would have noticed the slight squeak in his voice when he responded, “G-great idea, Pads.” He turned to you then, “Whaddya say, darling?” What else could you do but nod in agreement, “Y-yeah, sure.” 

Remus shook his head at the lot of you, but that didn’t stop him from stepping into the role of game keeper now that you both consented to Sirius’s little proposition, “Are you both ready then?” You gave a shaky nod just as James gave a short, “‘Spose, so yeah.” Remus’s grin could be heard in his words, “On your mark,” you faced towards the crowd, eyeing the soundbooth that was the finish line, “get set,” you felt your heart rate start to increase, setting your feet for an ample push on, “go!”

You took off toward the crowd, hoping and praying that James’s larger stature posed as a disadvantage. Where you could easily slip through gaps and under people’s arms, James would have to essentially bulldoze through people. Which now that you think about it could be a perfect strategy for him as people tend to just move out of his way. Crap crap crap crap crap, I don’t know if I’m ready to admit it, your internal monologue was panicking as you weaved in and out of people either too high or too unbothered to notice you were going through them to get closer. 

With no James in sight you reach the sound booth first, a hand clasping the side bar with a slap of triumph. You peer over the crowd around you, searching for any glimpse of curly hair of a glint from glasses. A grip on your waist makes you jump slightly. “Gotcha,” James’s giggled declaration causes the same to erupt from you. You turn in his grip, his hands still holding on as you face him now. Your heart beat feels like it’s in your throat as you try to speak, “I beat you, Jamie.” 

James smiles at the nickname, nodding and bouncing his curls along with it, “Yeah, you beat me darling.” In a bold gesture you wrap your arms around his neck, “You owe me a secret.” This time you don’t miss the way his cheeks pinken, James stumbling slightly over his words, “Y-yeah, you’re right. I, erm, guess I just don’t really know how to say it?” He rubs a thumb over your hip bone nervously, which only increases your own nerves.

“You can tell me anything Jamie, you know that. I promise I won’t judge,” You plastered on a wide and encouraging smile, which did just that for James. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before he spoke, “Okay, phew, okay, I can do this.” He looked over towards the stage, your favorite band playing your favorite song seemed to be just the right moment for him to confess it all, “Y/n/n, I…I really like you. I have for a while I’ve just, ugh, I’ve been a pansy about it. I’ve been meaning to tell you sooner, but it just seems like you’re mind has been occupied by someone else and I just didn’t want to get in the way of that? I dunno, but then Sirius said his stupid thing and I thought, what better time, ya know?” 

James let out a nervous laugh, struggling to keep eye contact and waiting for you response. You placed a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you while you made a confession of your own, “It’s you, Jamie.” James’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “You, I’m sorry, what?” You let out a sigh, “What, or who’s been occupying my mind lately. It’s you, you bloody idiot. I thought Sirius made his little plan because he knew.” James couldn’t help but roll his eyes, a small smile on his face as he did so, “That cheeky fucking bastard, I thought it was just because of me.” 

James grabbed your face then, pulling your lips to his in a playfully searing kiss. His lips slotted against yours better than any fantasy you’d ever had of him. Just like everything else he did, he kissed passionately, your knees growing weak as you felt light headed both from the lack of oxygen and at the realization that this was really happening. As he pulled away you couldn’t help the dopey smile that you wore, James looking thankfully similar. “We make a pack right now that he does not get credit for us getting together.” 

You perked up, “So we’re together now?” James gave you two more quick pecks on the lips before turning you both towards the stage to enjoy the rest of the band’s set. He pulled you close into his side, leaning down to answer your question, “Sweetheart, after that confession, you’re stuck with me.”

[mostly-marvel-musings]

Punching bag

A/N: Well, I am channeling my frustration for the day into this fic, similar to Y/N channeling hers to our favourite boy. Enjoy!

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warnings: 18+ smut. Tony being the best boyfriend.

Tony Stark Masterlist

.

“You can take it out on me.”

He had said, sensing your crabby mood as you threw your gym bag angrily against the bench, letting out a huff. As tempting as the offer was, it wasn’t fair to channel your anger towards your boyfriend as he wasn’t the source.

So you stuck to your trusted punching bag. It worked, for a while. Soon you felt your anger return and the poor punching bag threatened to give way. You needed to blow off some steam before you could face the world today.

Finding Tony in the boxing ring with Happy, you waited for him to be done, trying your best take a few cleansing breaths in attempts to calm down. Your gaze was fixed on the floor when you realised he had sent Happy away and was kneeling in front of you with worried eyes.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it. Fancy a match?” He suggested, pulling you in the ring when you didn’t protest.

After a few rounds, you weren’t feeling it and he picked it up, like he always did. He was too sharp. That is when he suggested you take your frustration out on him.

The kiss you shared was all teeth and tongue as your lips crashed together, the intensity took him by surprise but he welcomed it. Letting you take the lead, Tony laid back against the soft padded floor and took you with him.

Straddling his lap, you began grinding your hips against his crotch, feeling him getting hard under you and your lips trailed down his stubbled jaw. Tony gripped your hips to encourage your movements, matching your intensity but silently letting you know that you were the boss.

Your body ignited with desire, flushing out the anger that was boiling just minutes ago and you craved his touch, you needed this and were glad he was willing to give you everything. In a flurry of movement, you discarded your sweats but kept your panties on, using the friction in your favour until his cock was straining against his sweatpants, eager to serve you.

Little pants and moans left Tony’s lips as you freed him and gave him a few pumps with your hand before sliding your underwear to a side to gather your wetness on his tip.

You let out a hiss as you sank down on his ample length, letting the stretch that bordered on pain take over, you really needed this. Wasting no time, you began moving your hips while anchoring your hands on his shoulders, letting him kiss your neck with wanton need.

Tony’s cock brushed all the right spots inside your tight heat while his lips attacked your sweaty skin, fuelling the fire that now burned deep within. You weren’t too far along as your ministrations continued, making your legs twitch signalling him that you were getting there.

“That’s it, baby. Take what’s yours.”

His words spurred you on, making you push him onto his back and ride him harder than before. Tony’s lust blown eyes watched as you brought yourself closer to the edge, aiding you by meeting your thrusts halfway, squeezing your sides before bringing a hand to your bundle of nerves.

“I’m close, Tony..” you whispered, your eyes shut in pleasure as you felt him rub your clit just the way you liked, bringing you right where you wanted to be. Your muscles clenched as did your walls, making him grunt. On days like these, bringing you pleasure was what satisfied Tony.

You came with a loud cry, your legs shaking as you gushed over his length before falling against him, your heart hammering inside your chest. Watching you come undone was probably one of his favourite visuals. He smiled as he caressed your back, littering your face with soft kisses as you floated back to reality.

“I think you might be my favourite punching bag.” You grinned, placing a soft kiss against his lips.

“Honey, you can use me whenever you want. I’m all yours to relish and ruin.”

[chibieggplant]

7 minutes in heaven

7 Minutes in heaven with Sanji

Female reader

Fluff and kissing

Nami picked up the empty bottle with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Alright, let's see who gets the honour - or curse - of starting our little game!" She gave the glass vessel a vigorous twirl, watching it whirl around before coming to an abrupt halt, pointing unerringly at you. Gasps and laughter erupted from the others as Luffy exclaimed, "Whoa, looks like y/n drew the short straw and goes first!"

Brook chuckled, his skeletal fingers giving your shoulder a playful nudge. "So, y/n, who'll be sharing that cramped closet space with you for seven tantalizing minutes?" Your cheeks flushed pink at the prospect, and you couldn't help but grumble under your breath, "Figures, why wouldn't I get stuck going first?" Your heart races as the bottle spins on its axis, each second an eternity until finally, it comes to rest. And there, grinning like the cat who got the cream, sits Sanji.

Sanji's triumphant laughter fills the air as he exclaims, "Thank you, God! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" His elation is infectious, making it difficult for you to hold back a small smile. But beneath the surface, your nerves are fraying at the edges. Nami's teasing whisper about the two of you making a cute couple doesn't help matters, her smirk implying she knows about your long-held crush on Sanji. You shoot her a glare, wishing she'd keep such sensitive information to herself. But there's little point in getting upset – Nami's always had a knack for pushing your buttons and stirring the pot.

As you nervously make your way toward Sanji, Nami throws in one final warning: "Have fun, but no funny business, Sanji!" Her words are half-jest, half-serious. Sanji barely acknowledges them, too caught up in his excitement to pay attention to anyone else. With a skip in his step, he eagerly awaits your arrival, ready to make the most of these seven precious minutes in each other's company – and perhaps, ignite a spark that he's secretly been hoping for.

The whispers of the others fade away as you step inside the cramped confines of the closet with Sanji. You try to brush off your growing nerves and focus instead on the warmth radiating from Sanji's presence beside you. It's true, you've often found yourselves lost in daydreams about each other – harmless fantasies, surely. But now, with the doors firmly shut and the promise of seven minutes stretching out before you, the line between reality and fantasy begins to blur.

Sanji's proximity is intoxicating, the scent of his cologne combined with the musty closet air, making your head spin. The cramped space seems to shrink further, pressing your bodies together unintentionally as you both fumble for a moment to get comfortable. Outside, the crew's laughter and suggestive remarks continue unabated, fueling the electric tension building between you and Sanji. Franky's bold assertion – that seven minutes is ample time for ‘super things’ to happen – rings ominously in your ears.

As the seconds tick by, your heart pounds in your chest, matching the frantic rhythm of Sanji's breathing. His gaze flickers to your flushed face, and for a moment, you both hold each other's stare, the unspoken understanding crackling between you like a live wire. Seven minutes may seem like a lifetime when every second counts and the consequences of giving in to your desires could change everything... But at this moment, surrounded by the darkness of the closet and the heat of Sanji's body so close to yours, it's impossible to think of anything but succumbing to the overwhelming temptation that has been building between you for so long.

In the dim closet, Sanji attempts to lean casually against the wall, although his nervously tapping foot gives away his true feelings. *Here I am, alone…with y/n* he thinks to himself, heartbeat accelerating. He takes a deep breath, mentally preparing for the opportunity he'd envisioned countless times – uninterrupted alone time with you. *Don't mess this up, Sanji* he reminds himself internally, fighting back his jitteriness.

“S-so, um...what do you want to do?” Anxiously, you ask, purposely avoiding his gaze. “Uh...well... seven minutes in heaven usually means...” *Usually means what? Kissing? More? Dammit, brain, focus!* He scolds himself. Trapped in his internal turmoil, Sanji trails off, leaving the sentence hanging in the charged silence between you. He steals fleeting glances at your profile, admiring your complexion even in the dim light. His heart pounds louder with every beat, drumming a rhythm of anticipation and anxiety throughout his entire being. Sanji inches closer, the air between you growing thicker with tension.

He clears his throat, attempting to steady his racing heartbeat. Finally, he meets your gaze, his bright blue eyes searching yours. But instead of boldly declaring his intentions, he fumbles for a conversation starter – a question so innocuous, it borders on ridiculous. “So, uh... How's your day been?” Internally, Sanji immediately slaps himself for such a weak opening line. What is wrong with him? Can't he just admit his feelings, wrap an arm around your waist, and pull you in for a kiss? But his nerves get the better of him, leaving him stuck in neutral, unsure how to proceed.

Your gentle smile at his silly inquiry gives Sanji a fleeting glimmer of hope. His heart leaps, a mix of relief and trepidation swirling within him. Was it genuine amusement or merely polite courtesy? He's torn between elation and self-doubt, the uncertainty making his head spin. *Why am I freaking out over a smile?* Sanji chastises himself again silently. *Focus, damn it!* But the torrent of thoughts continues to barrage his mind – Was his question too mundane? Should he just confess his feelings straightaway? Sanji's panic rises anew as he finds himself frozen mere inches from you, the heat of your proximity sending shivers down his spine. He longs to bridge the remaining gap, to wrap you in his arms and let the months of pent-up longing spill out in a torrent of passion.

Sanji's gaze remains locked on yours, desperately trying to find solace amidst the chaos in his mind. He's painfully aware of the heavy air around you both, charged with anticipation and possibility – so thick it could be sliced with a knife. Unable to stand the quiet any longer, he swallows hard, fighting against the lump forming in his throat as he attempts to formulate the perfect words. Breaking the suffocating silence, Sanji blurted out words he hadn't intended to utter yet – not here, not now, and certainly not in such a haphazard way. "I REALLY LIKE YOU Y/N!"

Instantly regretting his lack of finesse, he covers his flushed face with both hands, hiding from your potentially crushing rejection. His heart pounds against his ribcage like a trapped bird desperate to escape. He peeks through his fingers, catching sight of your downcast gaze and the slight tremble of your lips as you mutter something back. "You like every girl..." You murmur, avoiding eye contact and focusing on your shoes instead. Sanji reels at the accusation, taken aback by your sudden sternness. The words slice through him unexpectedly, deflating his fragile confidence like a punctured balloon. He knew his reputation preceded him – the womanizer of the crew, easily flustered by feminine charms – but hearing it from you, someone he genuinely cares about stung more than any insult Nami ever hurled at him. Sanji swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze once more. He needed to prove himself, to show you that his feelings went deeper than mere infatuation.

“N-no…” Inwardly, he cursed his flustered nature around women – why did it have to rear its ugly head now? Gritting his teeth, Sanji resolved to set the record straight. This chance might never come again, and he refused to let it slip away because of his insecurities. “T-That's not entirely true...” Sanji mumbles, averting his gaze, his embarrassment palpable in the confined space. *Dammit, why couldn't I have phrased it better?* Feeling exposed, he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly as you confirm his worst fears with a small chuckle. “I mean, it's a bit true, right?” Your blush deepens, your eyes locking onto his. “W-well... every girl is beautiful in their own way... but you... you're...” *Just say it, idiot!* His mind races to find the perfect adjective - something unique to describe the whirlwind of emotions you evoked in him since day one. But under the weight of your expectant gaze, his vocabulary fails him miserably. “You're... special...” *Pathetic! That sounds so generic.* Disappointment settles heavily in his chest, knowing that 'special' hardly conveyed the depth of his feelings. But before he can berate himself further, he forces a soft smile, praying sincerity could compensate for his lack of eloquence. Underneath the scrutiny of your penetrating gaze, Sanji felt like a deer caught in the headlights. The silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity, his mind racing to undo his earlier misstep. *She deserves more than that pathetic attempt at confession*, he reprimands himself fiercely.

With a deep breath and a silent plea to the heavens above, Sanji decides action speaks louder than words. His heart hammering wildly against his ribcage, he closes the minuscule distance separating your faces, his warm breath brushing against your cheeks. He watches your lips tremble slightly, a sight that sends electrical currents coursing through his veins. “W-would... would it be okay if... *gulp*... I showed you how much you mean to me?” His voice trembles with vulnerability. The closet walls seemingly shrink further, entrapping both of you in a cocoon of anticipation. Sanji's eyes plead silently for consent, his every nerve straining for your response. He's painfully aware of the thin line he walks, terrified of scaring you off yet yearning to bridge the final inches dividing you two.

“Show me” You finally murmur just above a whisper, unable to deny that you feel drawn to him like a moth to a flame. Time slows to a crawl as your whispered agreement reaches Sanji's ears. Disbelief morphs into pure elation, and with trembling fingers, Sanji gently cups your cheeks, feeling your softness against his calloused hands – a sensation he never imagined would be so damn soothing. He gazes deeply into your captivating eyes, searching for any hint of hesitation or regret. Finding none, Sanji leans closer, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage like a prisoner begging for freedom. Your breath melds with his as the gap between your lips shrinks to nothingness. Time now ceases to exist as his lips finally meet yours in a tender collision. The contact sends waves of pleasure crashing through every fibre of his being – a feeling so exquisite it takes his breath away.

Sanji's eyelids flutter shut involuntarily, sealing off the world outside this small sanctuary. All that matters are your soft lips against his, the delicate dance of your breaths intertwining, and the rapid beating of two hearts in sync. Slowly, he wraps his arms around your delicate frame, pulling you closer until nothing separates you except the thin barrier of fabric between your bodies. Every rational thought dissipates like smoke in the wind, replaced by primal desire and raw emotion. As he deepens the kiss, Sanji loses himself in the intoxicating taste of your surrender – in this moment Sanji feels as if he truly has found his version of paradise.

Ever so reluctantly, Sanji parts his lips from yours, the sweet taste of your lips lingering tantalizingly. His eyes remain shut, savouring the blissful euphoria that floods through him like warm honey. When he finally summons the courage to open them once more, the sight of your flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes threatens to steal whatever remains of his composure. *This woman...she’s everything*, Sanji thinks to himself, marvelling at the intensity of emotion coursing through him – a potent mix of desire, gratitude, and unabashed love. A tender smile graces his face, mirroring the one adorning yours. Your nearness feels like a drug he's hopelessly addicted to, and he knows he can never have enough. He tightens his arms around you, holding you securely against his firm chest – an anchor amidst the chaos of his turbulent feelings. He wishes they could remain entangled like this forever, oblivious to the world outside the closet doors. Inhaling deeply, he murmurs, “7 minutes isn't nearly long enough... I need an eternity.” His words hang between you, heavy with meaning and longing.

Your fingertips trace the contours of Sanji's features, sending tingles down his spine. He leans into your touch, craving more of your gentle caresses. Your lips brush against his once more, igniting a wildfire within his chest – a blaze that threatens to consume him entirely. Each delicate press of your lips together sends shockwaves coursing through his veins, intensifying the overwhelming cocktail of emotions swirling within him. His mind reels at the prospect of delving deeper into this forbidden connection, the possibilities tantalizingly within reach yet maddeningly out of grasp.

Sanji manages to tear himself away from the intoxicating kiss, his lungs burning for air. His chest heaves with laboured breaths, his pounding heart threatening to burst free of his ribcage. Through glazed eyes, he gazes at you, his expression a mesmerizing blend of longing, desperation, and adoration. The words struggle to escape his throat, tangled in the mess of feelings choking him. How could he possibly articulate the depth of his desires, the complexity of his emotions? The kiss has awakened something primal within him, a yearning that borders on obsession. “More time...please,” he finally manages to croak, his voice rough with raw need. In this moment, nothing else matters except the promise of prolonging this blissful interlude – losing himself entirely in the depths of your captivating presence.

Sanji peers into your eyes with a bashful demeanor, fully aware of the impropriety of his request. Yet, he finds himself unable to suppress the desperation clawing its way out of him, begging for more of your precious time. The mere thought of breaking this intimate bond between you makes his heart ache with a ferocity he didn't know was possible. *She understands...right?*, he hopes, as he watches the play of emotions across your beautiful visage. He searches your irises for any indication that you share in his insatiable hunger for more. This unexpected vulnerability only adds another layer to the enigma that is Sanji – a man who wears his heart on his sleeve despite his usually suave exterior. Swallowing hard, he whispers, "Please…." His voice drips with sincerity, betraying just how much this simple act of connection means to him. He waits anxiously, his heart lodged in his throat, for your response.

Gently disentangling your fingers from his hair, you hesitantly brings your hand to cup his face, holding his gaze that reflect the tumultuous sea of emotions raging inside him – fear, hope, and unfiltered desire. Sanji swallows hard, bracing himself for whatever answer might fall from your perfect lips. The silence heavy between you, each passing second stretching out like an eternity. Sanji hangs precariously on the precipice of confession. Then, your softest of whispers breaks the silence. “D-Do you...maybe want to...continue this, after the seven minutes? ...As...as a couple?” you breathe out nervously. As the notion of becoming a couple escapes your lips, Sanji's eyes widen in disbelief – as though struck by a bolt of lightning. His face erupts into a radiant smile, illuminating the dim closet with its warmth. He laughs nervously, still finding it difficult to believe that this extraordinary woman would consider sharing her life with him. His mind races, thoughts colliding in a chaotic dance – dreams of future moments together, of holding you close, protecting you fiercely, and cherishing every second spent by your side. "A couple?" He echoes your words, voice trembling with barely contained joy. The concept seemed too surreal to be true, yet the hope blooming in his chest refuses to be quenched. He searches your eyes intently, seeking confirmation amidst the whirlwind of emotions threatening to sweep him off his feet.

You nod, attempting to steady the tremble in your voice. "Y-yeah...a couple. Like together, boyfriend and girlfriend," you confirm, a faint blush colouring your cheeks. Despite Sanji's obvious delight at the prospect, a kernel of trepidation lingers deep within you – the nagging fear that his euphoria might be fleeting, and he could potentially withdraw his interest upon sober reflection. The uncertainty gnaws at you, making it difficult to fully embrace the moment's joyous atmosphere. However, Sanji's radiant expression and the fervent longing in his eyes offer a glimmer of reassurance, hinting at the possibility that this might indeed be the beginning of something extraordinary. You hold your breath, anxiously awaiting his response – praying that the sweet promise of a budding relationship will soon become a reality.

Unable to contain his overwhelming happiness, Sanji nods fervently, eyes brimming with genuine surprise and relief. He couldn't fathom why someone as incredible as you would choose him, but he silenced those doubts instantly, afraid to ruin this perfect moment. Without uttering a single word, Sanji opts for a far more physical answer – he captures your lips with fervent passion, sealing your unspoken agreement with an intense kiss. His arms wrap around you possessively, pulling you flush against his muscular frame until the barrier between your bodies seems nonexistent. In this stolen closet sanctuary, reality melts away, leaving only the two of you entangled in each other's embrace. Sanji savours every detail – the delicate curve of your smile against his lips, the softness of your hair tickling his fingertips as they trace lazy circles along your nape, and the tantalizing press of your curves against his own. This newfound intimacy ignites a fire within him, obliterating any remaining reservations he may have harboured. *Finally*, a triumphant thought echoes in his mind, drowned out only by the erratic rhythm of their intertwined heartbeats.*This amazing woman is mine.*

Lost in the symphony of your shared desire, Sanji deepens the kiss, pouring all the bottled-up emotions into each feverish touch, imprinting this moment permanently onto his very soul. Caught in the throes of passion, neither you nor Sanji notices the soft laughter emanating from outside the closet door. The crewmates' amusement serves only as a distant murmur, easily drowned out by the crescendo of your escalating desire. Sanji's entire world narrows to the exquisite sensations flooding his senses – the gentle pressure of your lips, the tender caress of your skin beneath his fingertips, and the intoxicating scent of your hair mingling with your perfume.

Just as Sanji becomes lost in the depths of the kiss, a sudden tug at his collar jolts him back to reality. With a startled gasp, he finds himself being yanked away from you by none other than Nami. Blinking rapidly, he struggles to regain focus amidst the haze of passion clouding his mind. "Oi!" Nami scolds, her voice piercing through the fog of desire. Sanji's stunned gaze locks onto hers, confusion etched across his features. What just happened? One moment he was revelling in the bliss of your kiss, and the next – Nami was forcibly separating him from you. Still reeling from the abrupt interruption, Sanji stammers, "N-no no..." He trails off, unable to articulate the unfinished sentence burning on his tongue. The lingering sensation of your lips against his only serves to fuel his frustration – he could still feel the warm imprint of your touch, a tantalizing reminder of what Nami so cruelly cut short. Stuttering in defence, Sanji manages to exclaim, "N-no no I was...k-kissing my...my girlfriend!" Heat floods his face as he declares your newfound status aloud, but he stands firm, unwilling to allow anyone to belittle the intensity of this moment.

Nami's eyes widen, initially taken aback by the revelation. After a brief moment, however, understanding dawns upon her, and she grins widely – a genuine expression of happiness for her friend. "Girlfriend!" she exclaims, clapping her hands together. Luffy, ever the enthusiast, leaps into the air, exclaiming, "Finally! You two took forever!" His laughter rings through air, infectious and boisterous as ever.

Regaining some semblance of composure, Sanji puffs out his chest defensively, pride evident in his eyes. "Jealous, huh?" He retorts playfully, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to draw you closer. "Can't blame you though, right? I mean, look at my beautiful girlfriend!" He flashes a charmingly cocky grin, his earlier embarrassment replaced by burgeoning self-confidence.*They don't know half of what I feel when I'm with her*, he thinks smugly, tightening his hold around you slightly. As Sanji's strong arm envelops you in a protective embrace, warmth spreads throughout your body. Despite the blush staining your cheeks due to the attention from the crew members, a sense of pride swells within you. Their curious eyes bore into you both, but beneath his confident facade, you catch a hint of his own embarrassment. You share a secret smile, understanding that this newfound relationship status might take some getting used to. Yet, the happiness coursing through you overpowers any self-consciousness.

The crew's laughter amplifies, but it’s not malicious - instead, it's filled with camaraderie and good-natured banter. Looking down at you, nestled under his protective arm, he whispers, "Thank you." Your confused glance meets his grateful one. "For what?" Leaning in close, so only you can hear over the commotion, he replies sincerely, "For agreeing to be mine." With your heart fluttering against his chest, you whisper back, "Thank you for wanting me to be yours, Sanji." This private declaration seems to electrify the air between you, and he squeezes your shoulder affectionately.*This moment feels so surreal*, you think, still processing the reality of your new relationship. You lean into Sanji's embrace, savoring the comforting warmth radiating from his body. As you exchange bashful glances with him, you can't help but beam with happiness.

Sanji's face lights up, and he leans forward to press a tender kiss onto your lips – a promise of endless affection. "Consider yourself warned," he whispers playfully against your lips. "Because I intend to shower you with love and adoration every single day." Just as your giggles subside from Sanji's declaration, Usopp steps forward, feigning disgust but failing to mask his underlying amusement. "No no!" he exclaims, pushing you both toward the closet again. "We don't need to witness that lovey-dovey stuff! Back in the closet!"

Zoro joins in, lending his strength to Usopp's efforts. "Yeah, keep the mushiness behind closed doors!" he adds, rolling his eyes dramatically. As the two pirates try to force you and Sanji back inside the closet, laughter bubbles up your throat once more. "At least let us go to an actual room to...you know, express ourselves properly!" You retort jokingly.

Chopper, ever the voice of reason, holds the closet door open with a grin on his furry face. "Let them be," he chirps. "They're just excited to express their love for each other."

Nami rolls her eyes but can't help a small smile tugging at her lips. "Don't encourage them, Chopper! Sanji needs to learn to control himself." Sanji bristles defensively at this remark, his cheeks flushing an even deeper shade of red. "I can control myself just fine!" he retorts indignantly.

Usopp snickers from beside him, shaking his head in mock disapproval. "We don't need to see you two making out all over the place!" he teases mercilessly while giving Nami a sidelong glance that makes her giggle uncontrollably despite herself.

Amidst the cacophony of laughter and friendly ribbing, Sanji's arm remains securely around your waist, anchoring you in the storm of their playful banter. He casts an indignant glance at Usopp, though the corners of his mouth quirk upwards – unable to suppress the happiness blooming inside him. "Relax guys, we're not animals," Sanjj huffs, although his eyes sparkle mischievously.

Brook chimes in with a wistful sigh, "Ah~ young love, it's a wonderful thing~" While Franky enthusiastically agrees, "Ow! So true! It's superrr!" Nami rolls her eyes but can't help a small smile tugging at her lips as she imagines all sorts of lovey-dovey scenarios playing out between the two of you.

Tired of the teasing yet simultaneously buoyed by their camaraderie, you decide to put an end to it – at least temporarily. With a sassy smile, you declare, "Alright, alright! Enough!" You gently disengage yourself from Sanji's grasp, lacing your fingers with his instead. "We'll leave you all to your imagination." Nami rolls her eyes dramatically, feigning exasperation. "Thank heavens," she mutters sarcastically.

Ignoring her playful sarcasm, Sanji shoots a final grin at his crewmates before allowing you to lead him away, his heart swelling with happiness. As your bedroom door swings closed behind you, cutting off the raucous laughter, he wastes no time embracing you."Finally, some privacy."

[pathologicalreid]

Could you write a platonic Spencer X reader? Like she’s the new, youngest member on the team, he remembers how it feels like and kinda takes you under his wing.

neophyte | S.R.

next

in which dr. reid gives advice to help you cope with the requirements of your new job

who? spencer reid x fem!platonic!BAU!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: details from 1x6 "L.D.S.K.", mentions of killing an unsub, guns and general cm related violence. post prison reid.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: hi!! thank you! i had such a great time writing this! i love a good platonic reader fic <3. (side note i am currently working on making my way through all of my requests :-))

Your brows were furrowed in the dark, abandoned office that you darted into at the very first opportunity. Try as you might, you couldn’t forget the way your last case ended.

Some agents wore their first takedown like a badge of honor, but you had no interest in looking at this like an accomplishment.

You rubbed at your eyes, he was a killer, he had a knife to a teenager's throat, and yet, you felt bad that you had killed him. Emily had assured you that it was a clean shoot and you were right to kill him, but you didn’t care that it was a clean shoot. You cared that someone was dead, and you were the one who pulled the trigger. Shouldn’t it matter to you that by taking one life, you likely saved several others in the process?

Glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone could see you, you turned sharply into the empty office. It had been left abandoned years ago by Agent Morgan, and now you were grateful for the empty space. If you were going to cry, at least you could do it in peace.

The events kept playing in your head, the UnSub held the knife to the kid’s throat, and you asked him to let the kid go, but he knew he was going to jail anyway. The temptation of another kill was too good for him to turn down. You saw the flex of his wrist as he prepared himself to kill, and you pulled the trigger.

You struck him right between his eyes. You promptly walked the teenager to reunite with his parents before you snuck around the side of the building and hurled before returning to the rest of the team like all was well and good.

“Y/N?” A voice whispered into the office, and you braced yourself for someone to tell you that you shouldn’t be in there, you looked up and saw Reid, he had his token leather satchel over his shoulder like he was ready to leave. “Are you alright?”

Haphazardly, you wiped at the tears on your face and smiled weakly, “Yeah, I’m good.” You lied through your teeth, “Just uh…” you desperately tried to find a reason for being in the empty office, “enjoying the scenery.” You cringed inwardly, a five-year-old wouldn’t believe you, let alone a seasoned profiler.

Like you had done earlier, Spencer looked behind him before entering the office, he set his bag on the floor and slid his back down the wall, so he was sitting next to you on the floor. “So, how are you enjoying the blank walls?”

You wrapped your arms around yourself, “I am enjoying myself immensely, thank you very much.”

“So, what’s wrong?” He asked, nudging your arm gently.

Hesitantly, you turned to face Spencer. Kind, non-judgmental Spencer who had once lent you a book on the jet because you were bored. “I killed him,” you whispered. “And I don’t know what to do about it.”

You watched as realization dawned on him, “Did Emily say it was a clean shoot?” He straightened his legs out in front of him.

Nodding, you went back to staring straight ahead. “Yeah, she said I gave him ample opportunity to cede and that I performed as necessary.” You took a deep breath and fiddled with the hem of your jacket, “but I didn’t… I’ve never…” How could you explain this to Spencer without sounding like a kid?

“You’ve never killed anyone before,” he finished for you. “Even though he was a serial killer and he would’ve killed that teenager, you still killed him.”

You sighed despondently, “Profilers.”

Reid leaned back against the wall. In your peripheral vision, you could see the light from the hallway as it fed into the office. “I had the same problem after I killed someone for the first time,” he admitted to you.

Your head snapped to face him. Quite frankly, you had a hard time believing him, Spencer was a BAU veteran at this point. “You did?” You whispered.

He nodded, “Philip Dowd,” he said, making a face like the name felt foreign to him now. “He would’ve killed me, our old unit chief, and an emergency room full of hostages had I not done it, but I still couldn’t convince myself it was justified.” He shrugged, “I didn’t sleep well for weeks afterward.”

Turning to face him, you tilted your head in curiosity, “How did you figure it out? How did you manage?”

“I had someone who could give me advice,” he told you pointedly. “I put pictures of his victims up in my room, so I had something to remind me why I’m doing this,” he answered. “I won’t lie to you, it’s never going to be something enjoyable about this job. Taking someone’s life is…. Brutal, but saving lives makes it tolerable.”

Silent tears streamed down your face, “I wish he had just put the knife down. It doesn’t feel like justice.”

Spencer nodded understandingly, “Sometimes it doesn’t, but that family that you reunited today? They’ll never forget you.” He reassured you, and you remembered the tears from that mother as she hugged you and thanked you for saving her son's life.

“For the good of the many, right?” You asked bitterly.

He hummed, “If that’s how you have to look at it, yeah, but if you don’t know how you have to look at it to feel normal yet, that’s okay too.” He swept a strand of hair from his face, “The point I’m trying to make is that I had someone to help me navigate all of this, and I think you could use that too.”

Your eyebrows raised, “Like a guru?” You asked, a light smile on your face.

“I was thinking more like a mentor, but sure. I could be your BAU guru,” he said, the grin plain in his voice.

Then the moment left as quickly as it came, you still couldn’t get the way the blood drained from his body out of your mind. You wiped a tear from under your eyes, “I can do this, Reid,” you assured him.

He reached over your head to a tissue box on top of a table, handing you the box, he answered, “I know you can. Emily wouldn’t have handpicked you from the academy if you didn’t have what it takes. You’re just what the BAU needs, and if you decide to stay, you’ll be perfect here.”

Unable to help it, you scoffed, “How do you just know that?”

“I’ve seen a lot of people come and go from the BAU, but no one who reminds me so much of myself. And I’ve been here for long enough that I hope you take those words for what they’re worth,” he answered you, not even bothered by your indignation. He stood first, reaching a hand out to help you to your feet, “You have my phone number, right?”

You furrowed your brows as you stood, “uh, yeah.” Garcia had programmed them herself on your very first day.

Spencer nodded, “Good. If you ever need help processing the job, or anything else, you can call. Or text. I’m usually better with calls. Any time, okay, Y/N?”

You cocked your head at him, “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he answered simply as if it was obvious.

And just like that, he grabbed his bag and turned around. Heading into the elevator, he waved as the doors shut and you watched, feeling like a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

next

[ho-for-joequinn-fics]

Rage, Ropes, and Release

Emperor Geta just refuses to leave my mind, so here’s yet another fic idea that decided to plague me at work 😩

Emperor Geta x wife!Reader

warnings: 18+ only! Minors DNI to this filth! angry!Geta (not towards Reader), mentions of murder, blood covered Geta, patient!Reader, obedient wife!Reader, masochist!Reader, sadist!Geta, hog tying, whips (we’re going to pretend that riding crops and signal whips existed during the Roman Empire), pussy whipping, knife play, blood consumption, unprotected p in v smut, multiple orgasms, creampie, profanity, etc

summary: When your husband is on one of his rampages, you find it necessary to cater to his needs in the way he enjoys the most. Through bondage and rough sex.

You knew exactly when your husband was in an angry mood and in need of some sort of release, his bellowing voice always echoing throughout the halls of the palace which gave you ample time to prepare for what he had in store for you.

But today was different. When you heard that his anger was more outbursts of rage than anything, you just knew that what he needed was going to be beyond his usual rough fuck until neither of you could take anymore.

You were in your shared chambers writing important letters when you heard him going on a literal rampage just a few quarters down the hall, setting your quill down with a bite to your lip as you listened.

“I am sick of you incompetent imbeciles always fucking things up around here! What the fuck is the point of having you around if you can’t do anything right!?”

The rage in his tone had your thighs clenching together and you hoped that when he made it to your chambers when he was finished his ranting that he would take those feelings of rage out on you.

“Is there anyone around here that can do anything right other than myself?! Gods, you make me want to just--” There was a short pause before one of the servants was begging for mercy, but his begging was cut short when Geta lodged his dagger into the servant’s jugular before brutally slashing his throat completely.

You heard the screams from the female servants and knew exactly what your husband had done and that act of brutality itself was what drove you to realize exactly what kind of mood your husband was in and what kind of release he was going to need tonight.

Standing from your chair, you went over to one of your ‘special’ drawers and grabbed the thick ropes from inside, before going over and neatly placing them at the foot of the bed. Then you stripped down to absolutely nothing, positioning yourself at the foot of the bed with the rope in front of you and your hands on your lap as you sat on the bottom half of your legs, patiently waiting for your husband’s arrival.

You could hear his footsteps approaching closer and closer, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth when they paused just outside the door. “What the fuck are you standing around for?! Clean that mess up or you’ll be right there with him!” He snapped at the other servants before swinging the doors to your chambers open, pausing mid step into the room when he saw you ready and waiting for him on the bed with the ropes now held up in your hands.

“I figured you need some release, my love. Care to step things up a bit this time? Take all that rage out on me and do not hold back.” You murmured as you gazed upon his blood drenched form, watching as he closed the doors to your chambers before stalking his way over to you, his pupils blown so wide that the browns of his eyes were no longer existent.

“Oh, my dear wife. At least I know you will never let me down.” He stopped directly in front of where you were knelt at the foot of the bed, his hand tightly grabbing your jaw before he was pulling you up into a heated kiss, his ring clad hand reaching around to give your ass a harsh squeeze. “I can do anything I want to you?”

“Absolutely anything.” You moaned against his mouth, your hands gripping onto his blood soaked robes as you pressed yourself closer to him. “Tie me up and have your way with me, husband.” You smiled, picking up the ropes from where they fell on the bed when he pulled you into the kiss before holding them out to him, your eyes gracefully scanning over his hard set features.

“You’re so good to me. Such a perfect wife.” He sighed as he grabbed the ropes from your hands, a smirk creeping onto his lips as an idea came to mind. “Lay down on your stomach, arms behind your back and legs spread nice and wide for me.” He commanded, watching as you obediently did as told and moved to lay on your stomach with your arms behind your back and your legs spread apart for him.

“That’s a good wife.” He had a sickening grin on his face as he started hog tying you, being sure to tie the knots extra tight. Once he finished, he leaned back to observe his handiwork, his cock completely stood at attention from the vulnerable position he had you in. “Mmmm... I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

You quickly nodded your head in response, an eager moan erupting from your throat before you glanced back at your husband, your cunt clenching at how feral his gaze was as he took the sight of you in. “Take that rage out, husband. I’m all yours to use and abuse.” You encouraged with a hard bite to your lip, humming as his thick fingers kneaded your plush ass cheeks.

“If at any point you need me to stop,--”

“I don’t want you to stop until you’re ready to stop. No matter how much I scream, how much I cry, how bruised or bloody I may get, do not stop until you’re satisfied and your anger has ceased.”

It was Geta’s turn to bite down hard on his bottom lip at your willingness to be used and abused by him, his fingers now swiping up the arousal dripping from your cunt. “So wet for me already and I’ve barely even touched you. What’s gotten you so wet, dove?” He smirked, spreading your arousal all over your pussy lips.

“Your rage, the sounds of our servants screams after you murdered one of them, the sight of you covered in their blood.” You murmured, Geta grinning sadistically behind you. You were almost as crazed as he was and that’s why he chose you to be his Empress, what made him love you indefinitely.

“And you’re only going to grow more wet once I get started.” He mused, giving your cunt a firm slap before stepping away from the bed to start removing his blood soaked ensemble of royal garments. Typically he would dispose of anything that was destroyed by blood, but now that he knew it aroused you to see him covered in someone else’s blood, he planned on keeping these garments in particular.

You listened as his footsteps retreated before hearing as he started digging through one of the drawers on the other side of the room, your cunt clenching around nothing at the sound of a whip cracking from where he stood. You knew in that moment that he had a lot in store for you and you were dripping even more in anticipation of it.

He soon made his way onto the bed to kneel behind where you were hog tied and waiting for him, his dark eyes observing the new, large wet patch on the sheets beneath you. He merely grinned at that, not speaking a word of acknowledgement about it before taking the riding crop he grabbed along with the signal whip and giving a hard whack against your awaiting cunt.

You yelped at the sudden stinging sensation to your folds, your fists clenching and toes curling where they were tied behind you. And then your eyes were springing a leak when he started laying whip after whip after whip to your cunt with the riding crop, your teeth sinking so deep into your bottom lip that it was beginning to bruise and bleed.

A pleasured sob soon erupted from your throat when he forced his entire cock inside you without warning, the feeling of being split wide open on top of the stinging from the whips to your cunt mixing right in with the pleasure coursing through you. It hurt so good and you just knew it was going to get even better once he really got started.

With one hand tightly gripping one of your bound legs and the other now holding the signal whip he first removed from the drawer, Geta began a mindnumbing pace in thrusts that pulled the most lewd mewls from your lips, the force of his thrusts so strong that the bed slammed into the wall each time his hips met your ass.

Your eyes were rolled into the back of your head as you took each pounding thrust of his cock into your already abused cunt, a high pitched cry escaping your throat when he started cracking the whip against your lower back and ass with enough force to split your skin open already.

His cock twitched inside you as blood began to bead from your wound, the sadistic desire to completely ruin you amped up tenfold from your loud cries along with the sight of you at his mercy. He was relentless with the whip, cracking it against your skin to inflict as much pain as he possibly could, but eventually even the whip wasn’t enough for him.

Momentarily pulling out of you, he quickly shushed your whine of protest with a whack of the riding crop against your cunt. “Silence! I’m not finished with you yet.” He promised with a growl, stepping off the bed to retrieve his dagger and cleansing the blade of the blood it was soaked with before returning to his position on the bed.

“So fucking needy.” He growled, taking his dagger and using it to start cutting MINE into the skin where your lower back ended and ass started, grinning devilishly as it had you letting out a pained squeal. He watched as blood seeped from those wounds now, pure sadism alive in his eyes as he gazed upon your bleeding, vulnerable form.

“I love it when you bleed for me.” He sighed deeply before leaning down to start lapping at the blood drawn out of you, earning a lewd moan from your throat while you clenched around nothing. “Do you love bleeding for me?” He inquired as he leaned back to tease the head of his cock against your red and puffy folds, stopping as he was lined up with your abused hole.

“I fucking love it.” You moaned in response, your moan growing more elongated and raspy when he forced his cock back inside you and resumed the ruthless pace in thrusts he’d previously set, your eyes rolling into your skull all over again. He was ruining you just as he said he would and you were loving every minute of it.

Geta grabbed the riding crop again, this time giving multiple hard whips against the fresh cuts he inflicted into your skin and pulling even louder cries of pain mixed with pleasure from your throat. He knew you were going to be sore later, but he would take care of you when that time came to be. “Scream for me.” He demanded, his whips to your cuts getting more harsh with each brutal thrust against your cervix.

You screamed just as he ordered, not only because he told you to but because you had no choice, the stinging and throbbing sensations so intense you knew you weren’t going to be able to sleep on your back for quite a while. Despite the pain, you still couldn’t help but to clench around his cock from the pleasure of his brutal thrusts against your cervix, knowing it wouldn’t be long until your orgasm was washing over you.

“That’s it, keep screaming for me. Show me how much it hurts so good to be used and abused.” He growled, dropping the riding crop now so he could firmly grip onto each of your ankles and continue pounding his cock inside you, his head tossed back as you clenched around him even more. He was on the verge of his own orgasm, so much so that all it took was you screaming his name to push him right over that edge.

You mewled as you felt his hot seed painting your insides, continuing to clench around him to milk him for what he was worth. You were quite close to orgasming yourself, but you knew you needed a bit more than just his cock to get you there. “Please, m’so close, husband! Need to make a mess of your cock.” You whimpered, sighing in content when he lifted your hips to reach around and start rubbing your clit in tight circles, giving you just what you needed to reach your own end.

Geta growled as your cum coated each thick inch of his cock, continuing his relentless thrusts inside you and not stopping until both of you came several more times. By the time he pulled out of your beaten and bruised cunt, his own cock was red and sensitive, needing a minute to catch his breath before getting your limbs freed from their restraints.

You breathed out a long sigh of relief when you were finally able to stretch out your arms and legs, smiling when your husband started peppering kisses all over your back side. You knew he was no longer in the mindset he was in when you first got started, the gentleness of his kisses were his way of showing that.

“Are you okay, dove?” He murmured as he gently kissed your cuts, welts, and bruises, wanting to be sure you weren’t in too much pain.

“M’okay, my love. Are you okay? Are you still troubled or did this help you to get that anger out?” You smiled as you turned on your side to look at him, holding yourself up on your elbow. You could see how the browns of his eyes returned and that his face was much more visibly relaxed than it was when he first stepped into your shared chambers, which had you smiling wider.

“To be quite honest, my dear wife, I don’t even remember why I was mad in the first place.” He chuckled before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he cupped your face in his hand. “Thank you for allowing me to take my wrath out on you in such a way, you’re my perfect little pain slut.”

You giggled at that, pressing another kiss to his lips before you were cupping his face in return. “Of course, my love. I’m just happy that it helped. Any amount of pain is worth it when it comes to you.” You murmured.

“Mmm... I love you, my wife. Now let me take care of these cuts before they get infected.”

“I love you too, my husband.” You beamed, allowing him to carefully lift you up so he could carry you to get your wounds taken care of.

If he needed to release his anger in a similar way at some point in the future, you would let him in a heart beat. No matter how much pain he inflicted on you tonight, you knew his love for you outweighed the desire to hurt you. For him, anything was worth it.

Thank you for reading! 🩷 Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Fic tag list: @bugmanor @hellfireadmin @rxgirlie @anythinggoesemily @battiewattie @ajanehopper

[excalibur-gone-missing]

Paring: seungcheol x fem!reader

Requested: no

Release date: 24-04-24

Genre: mafia au, reverse of getting kidnaped by the mafia boss, fluff, e2l, crack, assistant au

Warning(s): mention of abduction, guns?, cheol is a menace, brief mentions of drugs (do tell me if i missed anything)

summary: It was not supposed to be like this, it was a meticulous plan perfectly curated by you, Jun and Seokmin. You were supposed to go get the man who was the future heir of the Kim Corps named Mingyu, you ever had a pic of his. Most importantly it was definitely not supposed to be the man who now sits in your basement claiming that he is the leader of the mafia organisation you three work for.

Word count: 5.8k

Other works

Beta reader(s): @wonuwrites-main and @anonmonty (sweet sweet angles helped me with proof reading, or else im fucking incompetent)

disclaimer: this is not the exact representation of the subjects in real life. I just use them for my inspiration.

a/n: I request each and every one of you to comment on this fic don't be a silent reader it helps me as an author to understand my readers and i would love to communicate with all of you. Constructive criticism is always welcomed by me so do talk about this fic or send me an ask.

[permanent taglist] [only for those interested, don’t fill the form otherwise]

It is a beautiful day, and like they always say: beautiful things happen on beautiful days, and you were damn ready for the said beautiful thing to happen!

The plan is simple—you and Jun have gone over it at least fifty times, and Seokmin has been standing there listening to you both intently throughout the whole ordeal. 

“So, let’s go over it once again,” you say, pointing at the white board with the picture of a man, Mingyu to be exact, the heir to the Kim Corp. and your target. 

“He leaves his office to have coffee every afternoon exactly at 3pm at the nearest café named ‘Carvery’, am I right?” Jun and Seokmin nod with a concentrated look on their faces. 

“Next he goes to the park, sits there for fifteen minutes, on most days, and then takes the path that leads them straight back to the building, correct?” The two men again nod, and then Jun takes over the talking. 

“More often than not, he hates company during his afternoon runs, so the best chance we have of abducting the man is when he is between the café and the park. This will give us at least a twenty-minute head start before the police and his family start looking for him.” 

Now you and Seokmin nod at the man, and Seokmin takes the podium to present the next part. 

“Jun and I will be on the streets while y/n waits in the car, and from the background check we ran last month, we know the man is well trained in martial arts, so we will try and attack him with the anesthetic as soon as possible.” 

“And after the guy is unconscious, we will flee with his ass~,” adds Jun. 

“Sounds like a solid plan,” you laugh as you high five the two men. 

Indeed, it was a solid plan. You three had considered every possibility and chosen this day to execute your plan. It’s perfect and thorough, so what can go wrong? 

-- 

A lot apparently. 

You reached the destination ten minutes early to give Seokmin and Jun ample amount of time to prepare for the attack. 

As you parked your car near the pavement where the abduction would take place, you see a man walk past the car wearing a beige trench coat with some sort of concoction from the coffee shop. 

Now if you were a seasoned abductor, you would have known not to mess with the person as the timing was not right. But that was not the case, and seeing a person who vaguely matched the physical descriptions of the man you were actually supposed to abduct gave you enough reason to jump the gun and take this man hostage. 

Before you could process anything, Seokmin jumped on the guy, trying to tackle him while Jun tried to find a way to inject the drug into his system. After another minute of struggle, taking at least five punches in their abdomen and faces, both the men were successful in sedating the man.  

They hurriedly carried him to the car and you three sped off to the base to ask his family for ransom. 

-- 

You have been back at the base for three hours now. As you look at the unconscious man tied to the chair in front, you realize the grave mistake you made by not seeing his face the minute you were actually kidnapping him. 

“I mean if you look at his eyes, they look very similar to the real target, you know. Maybe he ate too much last night and is a bit swollen now,” Jun says in a wise tone. Now if you were stupid like Seokmin, you would have accepted this analogy of his just like the hundred others he had spewed in the past two hours, but you are not. So, you hit the guy’s head while calmly saying. 

“Will you keep quiet for a minute? You know as well as I that this is the wrong man. We don’t even know who he actually is. So, we wait for him to gain consciousness and then interrogate him.”  

You have figured that screaming and crying will get you nowhere. All it will do is trigger Seokmin’s panic attack, and you do not think he can manage another one after the one hour long one he just resurfaced from.  

“Our best bet is that we abducted a pretty important dude, or else we know the boss will have our meat served to his dogs for their nightly feasts,” you continued. 

“I can see he is wearing pretty costly brands all over. My guts say he is rich,” Seokmin pipes up. 

“Seok, your gut told you to scream for the past hour. I don’t trust it a lot now,” you complain. 

“I think it’s your fault, too. You should have stopped us from abducting the guy instead of just staring from the car, you know,” Jun says. 

Now, you will consider yourself to be a level-headed person, but one thing that gets to you more than anything else is a false accusation. On top of that, the bitch has the gal to accuse you of being careless when they were the ones showing literally no care about their work, owing to the fact you were not even supposed to abduct the untouchable Kim Mingyu in the first place. The leader of your clan, although you three had never seen him, mostly operated through Jeonghan, his right-hand man. The guy you agreed to kidnap was apparently remarkably close to your boss. But when faced with the tough choice of loyalty towards one gang and the lump sum of three million, you three had to face the situation and betray your gang. You know you should not, but the small jobs with the gang were not enough to even pay your rent!  

So, who does Jun think he is to shift the blame towards you when you have done nothing but try to make a secure living for all three of you. Therefore, you do the thing that your sane brain advises you to. 

Go off at Jun. 

“So, if I fail to babysit two grown men while on an extremely important mission that included them, the blame is shifted towards me?!” 

“You were both supposed to wait for my instructions before confronting the poor bloke. Now, if things go wrong, it will be your faults, and I will be dragged into it because I was the main brain behind the planning.”  

“Guys, I think we should focus on the guy more; I think he is stirring.” 

This statement from Seokmin caught both of your attention, causing you to cease the argument immediately to take a look at the man in front of you. 

Without hesitation, you put your gun on his head and ask, “who are you, tell us about yourself.” 

The man albeit good looking with his doe eyes and plump lips, gave you three a mean stare before speaking sassily. 

“Shouldn’t you know the identity of the person you kidnap?” 

“If we knew, I don’t think I would have asked about you,” you reply. 

The man scoffs before informing you the most gut-wrenching piece of information you have ever heard. 

“I’m Choi Seungcheol leader of Choi Clan.” 

-- 

When Seungcheol met Mingyu today, he was feeling particularly drained and sought the comfort of a familiar face, longing for a brief respite from the relentless demands of his job. Mingyu, sensing his friend's exhaustion, proposed they take a detour to unwind, considering Seungcheol's grueling schedule. Gratefully accepting the suggestion, Seungcheol had embarked on what he thought would be a much-needed moment of relaxation. 

Oh, how wrong he was. 

As he leisurely sipped his coffee, enjoying a fleeting moment of calm, the tranquility was shattered by the sudden onslaught of a group of thugs. Seungcheol had braced himself for a possible mugging, but the idea of being abducted never crossed his mind. He curses himself for sending Soonyoung away earlier, now regretting not having company in this unforeseen predicament. 

To make matters worse, Seungcheol felt a wave of embarrassment wash over him. A mafia boss getting abducted! 

How humiliating.  

Now, do not get him wrong, he was, in reality, as far from incompetent as the Sahara was from water, as Seungkwan was from being calm, as Jihoon was from showing affection—you get the point. 

In fact, he had been the first in three generations to successfully reclaim the southeastern part of the city for his clan from the Yoon family, a testament to his capabilities. 

Now bound and surrounded by three hapless captors whose incompetence was glaringly evident, judging by the one who he suspects was crying prior to their conversation with him. He suspected they had targeted Mingyu, but mistakenly seized him instead. Seungcheol could not help but shake his head at their sheer incompetence. 

Now, again, he is not that scared. He knows he has a trusted pack of workers who would join heaven and earth in search of him. No, he is least bothered about himself. 

What he is actually bothered about is who planned to abduct Mingyu, because he is strictly off limits for his clan members. He knows this as much as anyone that they respect the young heir a lot, not only due to his kind nature, but also because of the relationship he has with their leader. 

So, when he informs his three kidnappers his name, he gets the weirdest of responses ever—a chorus of ‘shits’ and ‘fucks.’ Moreover, he sees all three of his kidnappers suddenly fall down at his feet and grumbling out the most nonsensical bullshit ever. The only words he vaguely captures are ‘it was supposed to be someone else’ and ‘sirs’. 

This confuses the man even more. But then he suddenly sees all three of them take their masks off, revealing two men and, dare he say, a very gorgeous woman. Now in any other situation,

Seungcheol would have laughed, but now that he is in it himself, the only reaction he can provide is a confused head nod as the woman immediately goes to untie his hands. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me that you were paid to abduct my friend who you know is off limits, but still went ahead with the idea, even though you are the members of my gang?!”  

He says as he looks at your group standing in front of him with their heads bowed down looking like kids getting scolded.  

“But sir, we barely make any money from doing the jobs assigned to us. The only way for us to pay our rent was for taking up jobs from outside, and this one paid us a huge sum. We never wanted you to be the one getting abducted instead, we swear!” you suddenly exclaim with the extreme need to explain yourself. 

Your two partners beside you do their dutiful job by nodding their heads with your rant. 

“You three fucked up really bad, didn’t you?” He says, looking a tad bit amused. 

“We are really sorry!” Seokmin chokes out, visibly scared by the whole ordeal. 

“Well, it’s time I go back, so take me back to the office.” 

Right after that statement comes out of his mouth, you three are escorting him out of the door to the car parked outside to take him back. 

-- 

“So, you are telling me these three, these newbies who literally didn’t have any good job for them to gain experience, drugged your ass and took you to god knows where, and you couldn’t even put up a good fight?!” 

Jeonghan exclaims, looking at the seated, nervous, and scared faces of the three of you from Seungcheol’s office’s glass. 

“Apparently not,” the older man sighs. 

“My friend, are you sure you are a real mafia? Because in light of the current happenings, I am starting to question your integrity a lot.” Jeonghan says as he barks out a laugh, taking immense pleasure at his friend’s humiliation. 

“Or maybe you were too caught up staring at the pretty lady to notice that you were getting kidnapped.” 

The bitch continues to make fun of the older man. 

“I just thought I was getting mugged, so I didn’t fight hard enough. Who knew I would be kidnapped instead.” Seungcheol grumbles, pouting a bit. 

“Which is even worse, because you are telling me you would have let people just mug you for no reason when you are one of the most influential people underground!” Jeonghan said while looking pretty concerned about the statement his superior just spewed, and he does indeed have a hard time accepting it. 

“Ahh! Just get over with it and let me go. Plus make sure the three of them face the appropriate consequences for not only abducting me, but also trying to abduct my friend,” Seungcheol barks out while walking out, thoroughly humiliated, and annoyed that his junior was having fun at his expense. 

So Jeonghan does the very thing at which he is extremely good. 

Create chaos. 

 Right after his superior leaves, he strides towards the group and says, “so because the boss has instructed me to do something with you three which will stop you guys from going off the hook, I’m going to assign you some jobs in the organization because I can.” 

Now, anyone even vaguely familiar with Jeonghan would recognize the expression he wore just before chaos ensued, but contrary to popular belief, Jeonghan is actually quite amiable—at least, that is what he believes, and that is what matters, right? 

He continues, “Junhui, you will be overseeing the artillery division. Our deputy head Chan will ensure you are well informed about your job. You will meet him tomorrow. As for Seokmin,” he paused, a sly smile crossing his face, which made Seokmin visibly nervous, “You, my friend, will be our esteemed boss's driver. Lastly, y/n, you will be his assistant. You shall be meeting Chan tomorrow, too; he will explain the workings of your new role.” 

Normally, in any ordinary conversation, you would not dare ask inappropriate questions, but the circumstances were far from normal, so you proceeded with the most audacious question you could muster: “Why did Chan leave his previous post?” 

Jeonghan politely responded, “He left because the job didn’t suit him, so we shifted him to the artillery department as a deputy head.” 

Unspoken was the fact that Chan had been worn down by the boss's relentless bullying, quietly requesting a transfer for at least three years before Jeonghan finally relented. Since then, the turnover of assistants had been alarmingly high. Jeonghan desperately hoped you would stick around. Moreover, if either you or Seungcheol objected to this arrangement, he had enough leverage to ensure you both comply. Enough dirt to keep both of you in line. 

-- 

Your meeting with Chan the next day went well. He explained to you the workings, gave you tips and tricks on how to make sure all the work gets done. Overall, a 10/10 experience, except the small hiccup at the end where he cryptically said something along the lines of “Best of all fucking luck with this job because you will need it.” 

Now a small best of luck is never a bad gesture, but that statement! 

That shit was a bit too hostile, even for you. But you are fine, happy even. Anything that saves you from getting your life cut short by a mafia leader is always welcomed. 

-- 

“What are you doing here?”  

“Where is Jeonghan?” 

The first two sentences to ever leave The Choi Seungcheol’s mouth the minute he sees your face when he comes into his office that afternoon. Indeed, so delightful! 

"Sir, I've been assigned as your work assistant for the time being," you reply, your eyes downcast. It is a surreal turn of events considering just yesterday this man was tied up in your basement. After that ordeal, everything seemed to take on a different hue, almost as if you were hearing the bells of heaven. So, that reaction seems pretty appropriate to you given the circumstances. 

Now you see our oh so beloved Mr. Choi was not just an underground mob because what is the fun in that, right! He mostly did international business under the guise of his company named The ChoiTech, solely based on providing technological change using sustainable means. Pretty cleaver tactic, although overused, but still gets the job done, so who are you to judge. 

The man looking extremely shocked at your statement immediately rushed inside his office, you presume, to call Jeonghan. And sure enough, within five minutes of him disappearing from your sight, you could hear him loudly complaining to his secretary on the phone. “But Jeonghan I can’t be collaborating with her, after what she did to me yesterday!” 

The man whined and then suddenly you could hear hushed whispers, so being the curious cat you were, slowly crept near the door to hear the conversation better. 

“But man, it’s humiliating. She kidnapped me for fucks sake”, the oh so powerful man, who people assumed will one day rule the underworld, whined like a kid who has been denied to go on a playdate with their best friend. 

By this time, you were almost pressed onto the door when suddenly the sound of someone clearing their throat made you jump away from it and look about for the person who stopped you from consuming you daily dose of gossip. 

The culprit, Joshua, stood right in front of your desk with an amused look on his face. 

Now Joshua is someone you were extremely familiar with, being the man who took care of assigning roles to the lower members of the group, you have had a lot of angry conversations with him. 

“I would ask you if Seungcheol is busy, but the way you were trying so hard to eavesdrop, makes me think otherwise,” he says, making you roll your eyes. 

“Just give me a minute to tell him you are here, then you can go in.” 

The man nodded still looking thoroughly amused at how sad you looked due to missing out on whatever conversation you were listening to. 

After a minute, the man was inside, now looking even happier that he has seen his next victim to torment. 

-- 

“So Jeonghan was indeed right,” he said, looking like he was having a tough time controlling his laugh. 

“Not you, too,” the pouty man whined from behind the desk. “But really, can you tell him to not put that woman as my assistant? I get war flashbacks every time I see her face,” he continued whining. 

“I mean, I could do that, but where is the fun there, right!” Joshua, thoroughly enjoying his boss’s misery, replied. “But in all seriousness, you could just treat her like Chan. The boy is still traumatized by the amount of work you made him do,” he thoughtfully added. 

The older replies, “I liked Chan, he was nice, would do anything you ask him to!” 

“And so will she. Her life is at stake here, give her some benefit of the doubt.” 

This statement made the older think like never before. Plans of tormenting you to quit your job rushing past his brain at high speed. Suddenly everything made sense. 

“I can take my revenge! That is exactly why Jeonghan made her my assistant. Oh, my friend is such a genius!” Seungcheol said, looking a bit too enthusiastic. 

“Ok, I am sure it was done to decrease his workload, but whatever you say, man,” the younger said skeptically after seeing the diabolical look on the elder’s face. 

-- 

It has already been three weeks and suddenly you understand what Chan meant all those days back when he wished you good luck. To put it quite plainly, your boss is crazy. 

The man was a combination of workaholic and perfectionist, which resulted in him getting swamped by work and by default the same fate befalls you every day, too. For the past three weeks, you have had a challenging time at the office to even take a break to eat food. 

The men you called your enemies once, aka Jeonghan and Joshua, are the ones now saving you from dying out of malnutrition. You are eternally thankful to them. But more than anything now, you regret trying to kidnap Kim Mingyu—the name makes you want to cry in a corner and throw rocks at people, if you had any time to do so. 

“Sir, you scheduled two appointments at the same time: the new project for the Orin Community Park and another one with Mr. Xu for the narcotic deal.” 

You informed the man who had his face shoved in some papers, reading something diligently.  

“Why did you not stop me from doing so then, you were right beside me when I was going through the plan.” 

Now, it is your job to curate the perfect schedule for the man to follow, but Seungcheol being the guy born only to cause you inconvenience made his schedule for the week himself this time. 

Why you might ask?

Purely because the man is a chronic insomniac and whenever he has trouble sleeping, instead of taking measures to have a peaceful sleep, he tries his hands in different works because he can, and this time his victim was the poor, poor schedule of his. 

“Because you had already sent them both emails, sir,” you say, thoroughly exasperated. 

“Ok maybe I did, so now I obviously can’t cancel on both so you figure out something so that I can attend both the meetings, because I ain’t missing any.” 

The man just turns his chair around and keeps reading whatever he was reading in the first place.

With an extremely calm voice, you say, “sir I need you to stop trying to do something to pass time when you can’t sleep. I need you to actually go to a doctor.”  “Can’t,” comes his response, making you sigh more. 

Sometimes it feels like you are working as a babysitter to a grown man instead of an assistant to a CEO. 

Seeing the conversation would be going nowhere if you keep talking to him, you go out and do the second-best thing in your books. 

Call Chan. 

“Lemme guess, the boss is giving you a hard time!” The first sentence he says right after picking up the phone. 

Sighing, you tell him all of Seungcheol’s various administrative behaviors throughout this week. When you got to the part where he had so bravely and meticulously made the perfect schedule, Chan started laughing. The gall of that boy! 

“Wait, he still does that!” He exclaimed between his laughs, making you feel even more annoyed. 

After calming down he says, “just make Jeonghan or Jihoon go for the community meeting and let him manage the narc. I know you are thankful, so do not mention it, but maybe buy me a meal when you are free, as a repayment.” 

Chuckling at the younger boy, you agreed to get him whatever he asks for purely because he is a literal angel, and he deserves the world. Ok, maybe it is a bit too dramatic, but the boy was indeed your angel in disguise. 

Planning on following through with the advice Chan gave you, you called both Jeonghan and Jihoon simultaneously. As Jeonghan was busy, Jihoon accepted the work of going to the community welfare meeting instead of Seungcheol. 

After that, the whole day was smooth sailing. But the main root of all your problems was happy, maybe not healthy, but the look of pure happiness and the twinkling eyes when he passed by your desk was hard to miss.  

This man was slowly but surely making sure to strip you of your patience bit by bit. 

--  

The last straw to eradicating your already depleting patience came when Seungcheol in all his glory, during one of his nightly ‘Imma take away other’s jobs because sleep refuses to befriend me’ escapades, deleted all your assistant notes for the server by mistake. 

You still are baffled as to how he did that. Truth be told so is he. He was scrolling away on his phone when he saw this reel about ‘how to increase your Wi-Fi speed.’ Extremely intrigued by it, he had actually tried to increase the internet speed in his house, and he swears on every god on planet earth it worked. So, he tried doing so with the one in his office, which weirdly enough resulted in removal of all the information that you had stored in your laptop. 

Now if this would have happened to his computer, too, you would not have gotten as angry as you were, but the motherfucker’s computer was all well and good and if you actually pay attention, it seems that his internet speed has increased, too! 

How this man become a CEO is beyond you. What is not so beyond is your pure hatred for him and his technologically challenged ass. 

So that night when Seungcheol, stayed back as usual to do work, you took your chances, entered his office, and slammed a ball of yarn and two knitting needles on his table while scaring the life out of the, not so, poor man. 

“Start knitting!” you calmly said. 

“But I don’t know how to though!” he replies, thoroughly confused. 

“Then learn, Seungcheol! I don’t care what you want to do, I need you to learn and pick up a hobby, start gaming, try knitting anything! Just make sure you are not trying to turn the office upside down.” 

Anyone who knows Seungcheol also knows never to question his nightly routines, but more than that, they also know the pride of the man is too high to ever accept his mistake. So, when you commit the grave crime of pointing out his mishap with the Wi-Fi router that morning, you hit the nail on the head and pissed him to the fucking moon. 

“So, you think I’m bad at what I do?!” 

“No, I think you are technically inept. And you should leave it to people who are good at it.” 

This pisses off Seungcheol more than anything, but you don’t let him intervene as you keep speaking. 

“On top of that you are constantly making changes in your schedule without informing me. You’re your assistant. Maybe have you ever considered the fact that your schedule was made so that your day is smooth sailing, and no two activities overlap!” 

“Just because you refuse to go to a doctor and try and find a way to manage your stress does not mean you make the workplace hell for us.” 

By the end of your rant, you were fuming and Seungcheol was stunned. 

Clearing his throat, he says awkwardly, “I’m sorry you feel so, I will try and fix my schedule.” 

Now, although this statement made you feel better, it also confused you, as you were fully prepared to have a full-blown fight with the man. Him backing down was never an option. But now that it has happened, you muttered a small, “I shall be going then”, to which your boss meekly nodded. 

After you were outside, you ended up feeling better due to unloading all your anger on the man. It was refreshing. Now you just needed to see what changes tomorrow will bring for Seungcheol. 

-- 

It had been two months since you had the argument with Seungcheol, more like your single woman shouting spree. But things have been better. He has tried to keep his need for new experiences down and this has made your life exponentially easier.  

Did you now have time to eat. Absolutely not! 

But the office was not a nightmare anymore.  

If someone would have told you five months ago that this is what your future held for you, you would have straight up laughed at their face and told them to get themselves checked. But life has weird ways of throwing you in situations you don’t expect yourself to be in, and you have no other ways of getting out but learn to go with the flow. 

You sometimes talk to Jun and Seokmin, and you have realized you got the hardest of all the jobs.

You asked Jeonghan about it once and his answer was, “because I can and its fun!” 

So here you are sitting on the couch with Seokmin while enjoying your sandwich when you see Seungcheol come outside carrying a bag, Jeonghan trailing behind him sporting this devilish look on his face. 

The big man walks towards you and hands you the bag. Opening it you notice a green scarf sitting at the bottom. 

“Seungcheol’s first knitting creation, and he says thank you for forcing him to learn knitting. It helps him sleep now.” Jeonghan says while pointing at the bag even before the older man could open his mouth. 

Seokmin tries to make himself as invisible as possible while looking extremely interested in the whole situation unfolding in front of him. 

Seungcheol waves his hands at Jeonghan trying to hush him down and whines, “let me speak!” 

“I made this cause you told me it would help me sleep! I didn’t think it could actually help me, but it looks like it did, so I’m extremely thankful for your suggestion.”

“Good job!” Jeonghan says, patting Seungcheol’s head like he was a child, making you laugh a bit. 

“Thank you for listening to me, sir!” 

“Oh, no, call him by his name, or else he will become weird with you again!” Jeonghan says, making you laugh again. Seungcheol pouts at both of you and storms back to his office, with Jeonghan at his tail making fun of him yet again. 

After that, you kept the bag in your desk and went to bid your friend goodbye. 

“He looked like he was confessing to his crush, you know”, Seokmin muses. 

“Maybe he has a crush on you!” He exclaimed after pausing for a moment. 

“I don’t, he is a weird person,” you had replied thoughtfully. 

Realizing he has been chatting with you for a long time, Seokmin quickly rushes outside while loudly screaming a ‘goodbye’ for the whole building to hear. 

When you came back to your desk, Jeonghan was waiting for you there. The man just looked at you with a smirk and said, “see you later y/n, and make sure to wear the scarf!” 

Jeonghan is a weird person. You more often than not don’t listen to what he tells you to do. He forces you to do them anyways. 

“Seriously, lady, do wear the scarf. Plus, it’s cold outside—you won’t get a heatstroke if you do so.” 

With that he was outside of the office, too. Slowly work caught up with you and you forgot about the scarf altogether. 

-- 

That evening, as you were finishing up at work and preparing to leave, you grabbed the scarf that had been gifted to you and wrapped it around your neck before stepping out of the office. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man who had given you the scarf felt a rush of joy upon seeing you wear it. Concealing his flushed cheeks, he quietly followed you out and spontaneously invited you to join him for dinner, explaining that he had given Seokmin the night off and now was in extreme need of a dinner companion, as Seokmin would fill in that position on most nights. It was unusual for him to make such a request, but you were both hungry and couldn't resist the offer of a free meal, even if it was from someone as harmless as him. 

"So, what do you think?" Seungcheol asked as the two of you sat at the ramen shop waiting for your orders. 

"About what?" You replied, genuinely puzzled by his question. 

"Didn't you read the letter?" He asked, his face turning even redder as he mentioned it. 

"What letter?" You responded, glancing around until Seungcheol nodded towards the bag in which he gave you the scarf, looking inside you noticed an envelope that matched the interior perfectly sitting at the bottom. 

"Oh! I can read it now," you exclaimed. 

"Don't worry about it right now," he interjected as the waiter arrived with your bowls of ramen. 

Despite his reluctance to discuss the letter further, your curiosity only grew stronger after he dropped you off at your doorstep. Once inside your home, you wasted no time in retrieving the letter from your bag. Its contents filled you with excitement like never before. 

The following day at the office, you placed another letter on Seungcheol's desk before getting on with your usual tasks, eager to see his reaction. 

-- 

"So, let me get this straight—you've been dating our boss for the past month?" Exclaimed Jun, eyes wide with disbelief. 

"Why didn't you tell us sooner? How did this even happen?!" Chimed in Seokmin, equally stunned by the news. 

As soon as you revealed your relationship with Seungcheol, you found yourself bombarded with a flurry of questions from your friends. It was amusing to witness their sheer astonishment, and yet, deep down, it felt incredibly rewarding to share this surprising news with them.

What started as a casual hangout quickly transformed into a lively interrogation session, with your friends firing off all sorts of curious inquiries. Most pressing among them was the question: 

“How and when did all of this happen?!” 

You couldn't blame them for their curiosity. It seemed like just yesterday that you had kidnapped Seungcheol off the street instead of his friend Mingyu, which resulted in Jeonghan gaining the perfect opportunity to bully you both half to death. And let's not forget the hell and back experience you were subjected to from Seungcheol himself, the man who had once resorted to extreme tactics to get you to quit as he was reminded of the oh so humiliating experience he went through every time he saw your face. But somehow, it all worked out in the end, and you couldn't be happier about how it turned out. 

Near the end of your gathering, you couldn't resist the urge to pull out your phone and reveal the most treasured image in your gallery: a photograph capturing two pieces of paper resting on a desk. One paper bore a lengthy paragraph, while the other simply displayed a single, bold sentence: 

"Take me out on a proper date first!" 

The photo encapsulated perfectly how you both worked so well with each other. It was a sweet reminder of how unexpectedly love can bloom in the most unconventional of circumstances. 

As your friends marveled at the photo, you couldn't help but reflect on how far you and Seungcheol had come in such a short time. Despite the initial hurdles and challenges you faced with the man, you were grateful for the bond you now shared—a relationship built on laughter, friendship, and, of course, a bit of unexpected romance. 

The end hope you like it !!

[kiame-sama]

Chubby Cuddles - (Yandere!Dabi x Chubby!Reader)

Warnings; yandere, mention of kidnapping, NSFW, non-con, rough, overstimulation, mentions of burns, spanking, Dabi likes being called degrading words, mention of ongoing non-con, gender neutral reader, chubby reader, very little- if any at all- plot, Dabi is objectively an asshole,

~~~~~~~~

Slowly rolling his hips, Dabi realized the warm and plush feeling of his dearest's body pressed up against his own was soothing in ways he never expected. Each time his sharp hips pressed so close to the squishy thighs of his lover, he couldn't help but want more. He loved the way the soft flesh was so easy to take handfuls of, squeezing and toying with the ample body that lay next to him.

Sure, they were not there of their own free will, but them just being there with him was enough for him. He adored the warm feeling of their plush body against his own burned flesh, basking in the pleasure of being entertained with them. Even if they struggled and whimpered each time he kissed their sweet chubby cheeks, he couldn't help but feel like he deserved this one thing.

He deserved to have them however he wanted.

He was the one to hunt them down and bring them back with him, after all. They had not been too pleased with the man breaking into their home at night and he certainly kidnapped them earlier than he would have liked. Plans change in the heat of the moment and then waking up to him rummaging through their dirty laundry was enough to let them know what a deranged pervert he was.

"L-leave me alone you- you sick pervert-!"

Their voice was strained and tinged with tears as they whined and gasped, trying to put as much venom in their tone as possible. The words had the opposite intended effect on him however. Each degrading word was like a sick shot of dopamine to Dabi's ruined mind, only pounding his hips forward even harder.

Due to being behind them and on his side, Dabi could feel the warm slap of their round ass against his stomach, his hands sinking into their plush hips. He couldn't stop his fingernails from digging into that warm fat and just losing himself in the feeling of his cock being suffocated by their plush body. The squeeze was enough to keep him going even if they happened to pass out like they did that first night he took them.

"Fuck... And what else? What else am I, Doll-face? Tell me how mean and awful I am..!"

"You- you bastard! You're sick, and disgusting, and a monster, and-!"

The soft figure he lay next to cut off with a cute squeal of overstimulation as their third orgasm of the evening washed over them. Their body tensed up and Dabi couldn't help but moan deeply, moving to lay on top of their warm body and hump them viciously like a rabbit in a rut. Even as they began to babble about being too sensitive to handle his continued treatment, he ignored them.

Part of his mind wondered if giving them a nice burn on that plush round ass of theirs would shut them up, but he decided he liked them begging more than being silent. If anything, their pathetic voice pleading for him to have mercy on them only spurred him on faster and harder. He loved the way each thrust resulted in a nice jiggle through their body as it withstood the impact of his hips against them.

The satisfying slap of skin against skin was almost as appealing as the feeling of laying over their plush body. Dabi rubbed his cheek against their back, feeling the plush flesh on his staples. He even let his tongue slowly trace lines over their soft body loving how they shivered from the soft drag of his piercing.

"You can do better than that. Keep going."

"You- you are-!"

"Aww, what's wrong, Doll-face? Too fucked out to say anything? Good. Just keep this nice fat ass in the air for me and I will do the rest."

It was the only kind of affection Dabi could really understand at that point, and so he was going to force it on his dearest regardless of if they liked it or not. Sure, he would cuddle them and bite up their soft body later, but for now he just wanted to fuck them stupid. It was more to keep his own mind quiet than it was to exert control over them, but the control piece did plenty to get Dabi off anyway.

"Beg for me not to cum in you and I might consider pulling out."

"Please- please don't-"

"I said," Dabi hissed, bringing one hand down to leave a stinging print on their plush ass, "beg."

"Please don't cum in me, D-Dabi! Please! I don't want you to- to cum in me, please!"

Dabi grinned in a feral way and made sure to thrust as deeply as he could before letting his cock burst in them, filling up every little part of their body with his white cream. The soft sob from his squishy beloved beneath him only added to the feeling as he tried to squeeze every last bit out into them.

"Oops. Sorry, Doll-face, didn't hear you. Next time you should scream it if you want me to listen to you."

His laugh was sinister and all his dearest could do was let their head hang in shame for allowing this monster to abuse them the way he did. Even if they hated him, he still got what he wanted in the end and he just loved the fear and disdain in their eyes as they looked at him.

It wasn't much, but to Dabi's fucked up mind, it was enough.

[chelseeebe]

just wanna (get with you).

okkkk i promise i am not neglecting promise (i am) but i just had to get this out before the thought left my mind. this is just to say nancy wheeler i love you and i’m sorry

18+. smut. steve is an adulterer. but it’s okieee bc it’s hot <3

this is very much richboy!steve, he is very cocky and brash and very much not afraid of it

⋆˙⟡♡⟡⋆˙

you had prepared to spend thanksgiving break alone in your room, honestly quite happy not to have to go home and deal with your car crash of a family.

that was until stacy had caught wind of your lonely plans and interjected, offering you an invite to her family’s massive home. now, it’d be rude not to accept, right?

you totally weren’t influenced by the fact that her older brother would definitely be there, not at all.

the drive up was a long slog, hours until you ended up in the middle of buttfuck indiana. it’s not somewhere you ever envisioned yourself spending the holidays but she had ensured that it was nice enough. her parents were.. interesting but as you were there, they’d probably at least try to keep up appearances. there wasn’t much else going on but in this tiny town but it gave you a chance to relax and ogle her brother.

their house is huge, like, ridiculously big. much bigger than their small family needed. from what stacy has confided in you, you can gather that her parents are hardly even home. they like to make a big deal about holidays to give the impression of a well put together family but if anything, they’re on the brink of divorce and only holding it together for the fear of being seen as failures.

not that your family are much better, but at least they don’t pretend to like eachother.

steve is up at the door the moment stacy unlocks it, waiting to see which of her sorority friends she’d decided to bring along.

he grins the second he sees you, taking your bag out of your hand and introducing himself before you can even begin to speak. not that you mind.

‘leave her alone, steve,’ stacy warns, rolling her eyes as she begins up the stairs, motioning for you to follow.

‘why don’t you leave me alone? i’m just being a good host, isn’t that right?’ he smiles at you, lugging your bag up the extravagant staircase and toward the room you’ve been assigned.

it’s not as if there’s a lack of them, a multitude of white doors that probably sat empty. it’s incredible how a house could cost so much and yet lack character despite the ample space to decorate.

she shoves him out of the way the second you make it into the room, ‘don’t you have anything better to do?’

‘uh uh,’ he’s smirking now and it’s making your heart feel funny. it’s wrong, totally wrong. but you can’t help it.

when he’d appeared on move in day you’d been star struck, his caramel coloured hair flopping into his eyes and the way his t-shirt clung to his arms had caught you immediately.

you and the rest of the girls in the house, obviously.

‘well go and find something to do you fucking loser,’ pushing him out of the door and slamming it in his face.

you couldn’t exactly tell her that it was fine and actually you preferred if he stayed.. so you grin and give her a fake chuckle, looking around at the room you were to call home for the next week.

‘i’m sorry,’ she sighs, ‘ignore him.. he’s just like that,’ walking over to the pristine bed. it obviously hadn’t been slept in for a while, you don’t doubt that they rarely have guests.

‘it’s okay,’ you smile, exhilarated for what this week will bring.

-

you don’t see much of the illusive mr. harrington, burrowed away in his office for most of the day with his wife busying around the kitchen, putting on an unnecessarily large spread each day. now you’re not a psychologist but even you can gather that she’s trying to make up for something.

stacy had bundled you into her room under the pretence of studying, both of you sat on her bed with neglected open books. opting to gossip about shit in your house rather than the looming finals.

steve knocks on the door and rushes in without waiting, standing in the doorway with a devilish grin. ‘mom’s drunk again.. you two wanna get out of here before it gets ugly?’ leaning against the doorframe.

he looks extra good today, his grey sweatpants sitting just right. you’re mindful to pull your eyes away when he nears the bed though his eyes never leave you.

‘like what?’ stacy frowns, sitting up and closing the untouched book.

‘i dunno..’ he shrugs, ‘i just don’t wanna be here when he gets back and she’s drunk again,’ fiddling with some trinket on stacy’s shelf.

you can tell that stacy’s not keen on the idea but she doesn’t want to be here for that scene either. you can empathise entirely, which is the exact reason you decided not to go home.

‘okay,’ she turns to you, ‘you okay with that?’

‘yeah.. sounds good,’ smiling at your friend. in your peripheral, you can see steve’s lips twitch into a smirk, cocky bastard.

much to your dismay, the three of you end up bowling. which you wouldn’t usually mind, but the alley was full to the brim with parents and their screaming children, running around the lanes hyped up on copious amounts of sugar.

not to mention the blaring christmas music that was entirely too loud for a tuesday afternoon.

‘you bowl much?’ steve scoots over on the bench, leaning in to whisper of the screeching kids.

‘not really,’ shaking your head innocently, ‘do you?’

‘yeah i’m alright.. i can teach you, if you want?’ ever the opportunist. who were you to deny him that?

‘okay,’ you giggle, blinking up at his chocolate coloured eyes.

it’s pathetic but your knees almost crumble when he walks up behind you, arms coming to envelope yours, large hands perched over yours as stacy tuts and turns away.

‘like this..’ his chest presses against your back, pulling your arm back and letting the ball roll down the lane.

you very nearly groan when he pulls away, hand lingering on your elbow as the pair of you watch the pins knock over. he smiles gently at you without even looking at the pins, he’s already sure he’d won.

‘thanks,’ you nod, keeping your own smile contained as you walk back to the bench, squishing in next to a less than impressed stacy. she’s not stupid but doesn’t dare to say anything and you’re grateful for that at least.

you watch steve take his turn, wondering how much longer you can feign incompetence to get him to touch you.

-

their house is quiet when you get back. eerily quiet. stacy and steve share a look before heading inside and you already know to prepare for the worst.

mr. harrington is sat facing the blank television, sipping on a small glass of what you presume is whiskey. the fire blazing in front of him, crackling loudly in the otherwise silent house.

‘your mother’s in bed,’ is all he says, refusing to turn around to face his children. he’s a stoic man at the best of times but seemed extra cold tonight. you don’t want to think about what had happened while you were out.

the atmosphere brings you crashing down out of your high, the loud bowling alley seemed like a dream compared to the moody room you stood in. at least your family were entertaining in all their madness. this was just depressing and you don’t have to wonder just why stacy is the way she is now.

steve slinks off upstairs without saying a word and stacy follows, head ducked down. they’ve probably been through this exact routine a hundred times before. you follow along silently, assuming that mr. harrington definitely didn’t want you hanging around downstairs.

before stacy slips away into her room, you grab onto her elbow, pulling her round to face you, ‘my mom drinks too.. i know what it’s like,’ offering some meek words of encouragement. it’s not a lot but you can empathise with the sinking feeling you know she’s feeling.

she gives you a small smile, pulling you in for a quick hug as the shower starts in the bathroom to your left. steve hadn’t hung around, disappearing before you even made it up the stairs.

‘night,’ you mutter before entering your own room.

there had been a tiny part of you that had hoped maybe tonight something would happen but with the scene downstairs and steve’s eagerness to get away, you doubt it.

-

there’s an almost silent knock at your door, if you were any sleepier, you would’ve missed it.

you know who it is.. what’s waiting on the other side of that door and for a second, you contemplate it. you could very easily turn over and drift off to sleep without ever finding out what could’ve been.. but, you’re not going to do that. not after you’d optimistically worn your best pajamas, dousing yourself in perfume before you had climbed into bed.

sliding out of the bed to open the door quietly and just as you expected, steve is on the other side with a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

he doesn’t speak before stepping into the room, shutting the door gently as you stand expectantly before him. your heart is pounding, it’d jump out of your chest if it could.

‘steve,’ you barely whisper, ignoring the growing ache between your thighs. enthralled by the sheer tension in the room, it makes the air heavy, weighing on your shoulders as you practically pant at him.

in one quick move he’s stood in front of you, hands cradling your waist, confidence oozing off of his smile. his hair is still wet, falling onto his face perfectly. it’s almost cruel that someone could look so good so effortlessly.

‘i need you,’ he whispers, his spider-like lashes cascading a shadow over his face in the dull light. he’s so perfect it hurts.

you choose not to reply with words, hastily planting your lips on his, closing the minuscule gap between your bodies as your chest presses to his. you’re walked backwards towards the bed, the excitement is palpable, his hands barely able to contain themselves as they grip and squeeze your flesh.

steve falls backwards onto the bed, pulling you atop of him, clumsily readjusting your knees either side of his hips, gasping into his slack mouth when his grinds upwards, his already erect cock nudging against your core.

pulling your shirt over your head before reconnecting his lips to your jaw, planting hungry kisses to the exposed skin of your neck. this is everything you’ve dreamed of since you arrived, the feel of him desperately moving beneath you becoming entirely too much. you needed him now.

he shimmies his own sweatpants down his thighs, choosing boldly to not wear any underwear. he’s big. his cock springing up against his stomach, gazing down into the space between you, mouth hung open as he works your shorts down with his delicate fingers.

‘what?’ he hushes innocently as if he doesn’t already know. his hand leaves your thigh to wrap around the base of his dick, pumping his fist ever so slowly.

your eyes meet his again, feeling your cheeks flush as the corner of his mouth twitches. if he weren’t so hot, his cockiness would be sickening. but you’re not one to bend to the will of men, brushing off his nerve and instead moving to grip onto his shoulders, positioning yourself above his leaking cock.

‘i know what you sorority girls are like.. you don’t have to- fuck,’ his head rolling back as you lower yourself onto him, gasping quietly at the feeling of fullness that quickly overtakes every other sense.

your fingers clamp around his jaw, pulling his face back up to meet yours, ‘what was that?’ sighing through muffled moans as you begin to rut your hips.

you have him at your mercy, moving your hips antagonistically slow, relishing in the sight of his hooded eyes struggling to stay open, soft pants escaping his lips with every careful movement.

‘ho- shit,’ his fingernails leaving crescent moons into your hips and ass, desperate to cling onto your body in any way he can. guiding your body up and down with the palms of his hands.

‘shh,’ you mutter, connecting your lips to the corner of his mouth in an attempt to quiet his groans. as lavish as this house is, you can bet that it’s not soundproof.

‘you’re so.. fuck- faster baby,’ he whines into your mouth, unappreciative of the calm pace you had set. enjoying the fact that you now held the upper hand, but also acutely aware that the sounds of skin-on-skin are indisputable, paired with his grunts, you’d be caught out in a second.

‘nuhuh,’ shaking your head slightly, face pressed into his sharp jaw, hoping to stifle some of the noises come from your throat.

this is when steve decides he’s had enough, this was his house and if anyone had anything to say then they could. his arm snakes around your waist, holding you in place above him as his legs spread, heels digging into the mattress.

your lips connect once again, in a sloppy kiss that requires minimal effort as his hips begin to thrust up, punching against that soft, spongy spot deep within. and now you’re the one responsible for the too-loud moans, practically screaming into his mouth as his tongue slips into your open mouth. his smirk evident against your lips as his thrusts grow faster.

chasing the same high you can feel growing in the pits of your stomach. you’re not even kissing at this point, lips pressed against the stubble on his cheek as his grip tightens, low grunts rumbling into the minimal space between you with every thrust.

‘oh god,’ you mewl, the all too familiar twist in your gut as his hips begin to stutter, the sound of your bodies connecting was spurring both of you on. not caring about your volume level as you come crashing over the edge.

babbling his name over and over again as you clench around him, shoving your face into his neck as pleasure soars all the way down to your toes, the sensation overwhelming your poor fucked-out brain.

his hands paw at the doughy flesh of your ass, resigning his last bit of energy for his last thrusts, hot spurts of cum paint your walls. steve’s teeth graze against your bare shoulder, suppressing his almighty moan as you collapse into a heap on top of him.

you feel like jelly, unable to lift your head when he pulls out, allowing him to manhandle your body as he shuffles down the bed. you shift slightly, moving to the empty space beside him, reaching down for the blanket, desperate for some modesty despite the explicit scene this room had just witnessed.

that was everything you’d imagined it’d be and more.

‘jesus,’ he sniffs, relaxing into your bed as if he belonged there, ‘anyone ever told you how fucking good you feel?’ his arm reaching out to pull your body into his once more.

‘shut up,’ you mumble, still very much coming back to earth. trying not to get too comfortable with this arrangement but letting your leg slide between his.

his other hand flicks the tiny lamp off, leaving the room in complete darkness. toned arms coming to rest around your waist, chin resting against your head.

‘you can’t sleep in here,’ you warn, though you wouldn’t complain if he did.

‘why not? this is my house, i can sleep wherever i want,’ his fingertips dart around your bare skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

you don’t argue, settling into your comfy position nestled into his side. it’s not long before sleep takes over as his fingers trace silly patterns into your back.

-

but you’re rudely awoken at stupid o’clock in the morning, the sun barely rising outside of the tiny window. steve’s grumbling, tapping softly on your shoulder.

‘i’ve gotta go,’ he whispers into your hair, pulling the blanket off of his body and onto yours.

you’re barely coherent enough to understand what he’s saying, nodding along absentmindedly as sleep negs to take over again. ever the gentleman, he places a kiss to your forehead before climbing out of bed and rushing out of the room.

he’s gone before you even wake up fully, not registering what had happened until you wake up again, this time at a more appropriate hour.

it’s only then that fear takes over. had you misjudged how loud you were? what if someone had heard? there’s no way they’d turf you out on thanksgiving.. would they?

yet all seems normal when you slink downstairs, joining stacy at the table as she butters toast without a word to be said about your antics. you pray to every being above that you had gone undetected.

‘morning sleepyhead,’ stacy utters, seemingly in a much better mood than the one you left her in last night, ‘sleep well?’

you stare at her for a moment, deciding if the question is loaded or if she’s genuinely interested in how you slept.

‘yeah.. really good, you?’ testing the waters.

‘yeah not bad,’ she smiles, a genuine smile that allows you to release the breath you didn’t know you were even holding.

phew. you were safe.

‘it’s about to get uh.. tense today so, we can just hang out in my room until dinner,’ she nods assuringly. you trust her, not wanting to bare witness to mr. harrington and his cryptic behaviour.

before you can reply, the front door opens and a small brunette walks in with steve trailing closely. behind her, carrying what looks like a suitcase with the most displeased look plastered on his face.

the woman hangs her coat on the hook, flashing a quick wave towards the kitchen where you sat gawping before heading upstairs quickly.

from here, she looked like a cousin or something, someone you hadn’t been told was attending.

she’s pretty, gorgeous eyes and a polite smile that makes you want to smile.

‘who’s that?’ you ask, perplexed at the sight of this stranger who is obviously so comfortable in their home.

‘oh, that’s nancy,’ stacy continues with her toast, not at all bothered by the new arrival.

‘she’s steve’s fiancée.’

[symbiomancy]

fun with friends —getō suguru

—summary: getō invites his roommate to watch you have sex | 2,2k | AO3 | masterlist

—warnings: brother x sister (ft. roommate!gojo in his cuck chair), p in v sex, creampie, voyeurism/exhibitionism, spanking, sex toys, cum eating, masturbation.

—a/n: it's been literally 8 months since I last wrote about siscon geto. wtf.

You meet them at the door with a smile.

“What?” Suguru asks, immediately wary. He steps out of the way to make room for Satoru and drops his gym bag on the floor. His hair is wet, curling around his face.

“Oh, my darling, most favoritest brother in the whole world.”

“I’m your only brother but,” Suguru's eyes drop to your cleavage, at the way the buttons on the already tight cropped shirt strain, “go on.” He doesn't bother hiding his leering gaze as he toes off his sneakers. Why should he? He likes looking at you. And your tits.

“I'm so horny I'm gonna die.” You wrap your arms around his torso and press your tits against his chest, bat your eyelashes at him. “Please.”

Suguru chuckles, the sound reverberating in your own chest, and glances at Satoru who is shrugging off his jacket.

“Satoru, you wanna watch?”

“Yes.” His answer is immediate. You should laugh at his eagerness, but with how long it’s been since he first asked to watch, and how you’ve made it a point to be all over your older brother in the meantime, you don’t want to. He (or his cock) might explode from the pent-up frustration.

“Alright. Kitchen. Give me a sec.”

“You can’t even fuck me on the bed? Wow.” You blow a raspberry against his collarbone.

“Shut up.” He unlatches you from him and turns you in the direction of the kitchen. You yelp when his hand smacks against your ass. He's managed to slink away in the half a second it takes for you to turn around to try to smack him. Instead, you come face to face with Satoru who raises a brow at you.

“What?”

“What’s your damage, anyway?”

Satoru makes a sound of confusion in his throat as he settles into one of the kitchen chairs, arms resting on his thighs. You lean against the kitchen table, arms crossed over your chest. His eyes trace up your bare arms and pause to leer at your cleavage.

“You’re objectively handsome. Smart. Rich.”

“Thanks?”

You reach out and pinch the fabric of his pants between your fingers, giving him an ample view of your tits. “I mean c'mon, how expensive are these? But you want to watch me and my brother have sex.”

Satoru clears his throat, shifts in his seat to hide the tent rising in his pants. “Hot people having sex is hot. And I don't know; my mom got me these for Christmas last year.”

“Why am I surprised your clothes are so expensive, you live in a building with a pool and a gym and a sauna—”

“Three saunas, actually. Normal sauna, steam sauna and an infrared sauna.”

You frown. “I wanna go to a fancy sauna.”

“We have a summer house too.”

“Now you're just showing off.”

“Not if we go there for Christmas break.” He raises a brow. “I can ask if it's available.”

“What's available?” Suguru appears from behind the corner, one hand in his gray sweats’ pocket. You deliberately stare at the outline of his half-hard cock and feel your pussy clench, more heat pooling in your underwear. He adjusts his crotch with his other hand.

“We should get out of town for Christmas break.”

“Maybe.” Suguru motions towards the kitchen table. “Turn.”

You turn, hike your skirt up and slide your panties down your legs, step out of them. You throw them at Satoru who catches them with one hand, the other already unbuckling his belt.

“Oh,” he says, pressing his thumb against the wet patch, staring at it intensely, “oh, that’s hot.” He holds his hand out to show Suguru who only laughs.

You place your hands onto the cool glass table and lean forward. Suguru steps behind you, presses his throbbing cock against your ass, wraps one arm around your waist and rests his cheek against your bare shoulder. His other hand is pressed between your bodies, thumb buried in the waistband of his sweatpants. The hand on your waist moves, trails up your skin and dodges under your shirt, slips the buttons out of their holes. It comes to a rest on your breast, large and warm, and squeezes. You try to stifle the silent gasp that escapes you and take an even breath in.

He presses open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of your skin, towards the column of your neck.

“C’mon,” you whine, bucking your hips backwards.

“You need to learn some patience.” His hot breath caresses your ear. He pulls down the waistband of his pants and his cock springs out, slaps against your bare ass. Suguru holds out his hand and you spit into his open palm. A string of spittle dribbles down your chin.

“Next time?” you counter weakly. His chest rumbles against your back.

“That’s what you say every time.” He wraps his spittle-coated hand around his cock and gives it a tug, once, twice, thrice, and drags the tip across the curve of your ass, resting it against your entrance. You try to push against his cock but a heavy hand is placed onto your lower back. His other smacks against your ass. A moan slips from your lips. “Stop being so fucking impatient.”

“Please, please, please, Suguru, please.”

He inhales and scoffs. “You’re so fucking spoiled.”

The blunt head of his cock slides in with no resistance. He’s so thick and the stretch feels divine. Suguru pauses, rocks his hips back and forth shallowly. It draws a whine from the back of your throat and his hand connects with your abused cheek again. But he’s kind enough to continue until his pelvis is flush against the plush of your ass. He takes a quick breath in and exhales. His warm hands are resting on your bare skin, one spread over your lower back and the other gripping the flesh of your thigh so harshly it may bruise.

“You okay?”

You nod. “Y-Yeah.” You roll your hips against his to the best of your ability. “Please.”

“We have to be considerate to our audience,” he coos, dragging his fingers across your skin. “Satoru?”

You clench around him involuntarily when you remember Satoru is right there with his dick in his hand, watching you, sitting just a few feet away. Something compels you to look at him. Blood rushes to your cheeks when your eyes meet his, and he’s staring at you so intently, like a predator eyeing up his next meal. 

“Satoru.” Suguru snaps his fingers in front of Satoru’s face. “Pay attention. You’re the one who wanted to watch.”

“I am.” Satoru pumps his hand around his cock twice, the lace trim of your underwear peeking out from between his fingers.

You look away from him, stare at your fingerprints on the glass underneath you. Suguru moves slowly, as if you haven’t done this time and time again and yet every time it knocks the breath from your lungs in the moment. He knows this and he takes his time, moves slowly until your shoulders have stopped heaving. Then, he thrusts in with force and you suck in an audible breath.

He sets his pace, working your pretty cunt open. He rocks his hips into your tight wet heat and you take it, pull him in like you never want to be part of him again. Maybe you don’t; no one else would be as nice and compliant as the brother you’ve wrapped around your finger. Your chest heaves and you try to stifle the moans slipping from your lips, prop your elbow onto the table to cover your mouth with your hand. He’s suddenly deeper, and your head spins, heat surging under your skin. 

Suguru speeds up. He’s so big, fuck, your needy cunt sucks him in with every thrust. Your body moves in tandem with his thrusts, meeting with his hips. All you can manage are small gasps as he gives you barely any time to breathe, to reorient yourself. Your arms are shaking under the strain of keeping yourself upright.

Suguru pulls you closer, leans your weight on him, lips resting on your skin, placing open-mouthed kisses and small bites wherever he can reach. He places a hand onto your jaw and turns your head towards Satoru who's pumping his cock in tandem with Suguru’s thrusts.

You can't help but clench around Suguru. He exhales, hot and heavy against your cheek.

He keeps your face turned to Satoru. You can see the lace of your underwear between his beautiful long fingers. It makes you lightheaded. You press against Suguru, circle your hips.

“You want to cum?” He asks, tracing his lips across the nape of your neck.

“Y-Yes,” you heave.

Suguru pauses in his motions and you nearly cry out, beg and babble for him to continue. His warm hand traces your skin, creeps up from your navel towards your tits and he takes one into his hand, squeezes it. You give a full-body shudder and he coos into your ear.

“Lay down, baby.”

You slowly lower yourself onto your arms — still shaking — and rest your torso against the cool glass tabletop. It’s freezing cold against your heated skin for just a moment before it becomes a nice reprieve from the heat simmering under your skin. Blood rushes in your ears, thrums in your veins from the exertion, from being laid out on the kitchen table, from your older brother pounding into your sopping wet cunt, from Satoru sitting there and watching your debauchery, dragging your underwear against his cock.

Suguru pulls out slowly, almost all the way out, and thrusts back in. He’s so much deeper now, you swear you can feel him in the back of your throat. Your mouth drops open, quiet gasps escaping from your lips — you think so because all you can focus on is the sound of him dragging himself in and out of your wet pussy, skin colliding with skin. It’s downright lewd but fuck, if it doesn’t drive you crazy. You do your best to meet his thrusts, drive him as deep as he can go.

You try to find an anchor in the kitchen, to keep the world from slipping away as the coil in the pit of your stomach tightens. You find Satoru, sitting there with his hand working on his dick, precum dribbling from the tip and glistening under the ceiling lamp. He looks painfully hard, the tip so red. His eyes are fixated on the way Suguru’s hips snap to please you. His cheeks are flushed.

You blink and then your eyes meet his. They’re so dark, pupils blown so wide there is no blue left.

White hot shame floods your face, your entire body, and you almost don’t hear the low vibrating thrum.

You come with a wail, electricity shooting up your spine, cunt clenching around Suguru’s, hands scrambling to find purchase on something before your soul exits your body. Your pussy dribbles around him, coating the front of his sweatpants tugged halfway down his thighs. He buries himself into you with a rich moan, pressing the smooth edge of the table into your hips.

His dick twitches in your ruined cunt, coats your insides in white. He's so warm. He swears under his breath, his hips shaking. The vibration against your clit ceases.

You press your forehead against the cool tabletop and take a deep breath in and release it slowly. Your ears are ringing, lungs burning from trying to take in air.

There are large warm hands running up and down your back. They work out most of the tension in your sore muscles, wandering and petting and squeezing as they travel lower to rest on your ass. Suguru grabs a handful of flesh in each hand, still buried inside your cunt.

Sweat coats your heated skin, makes the glass surface slippery. 

Suguru pulls out. You whine at the loss of contact, at such an abrupt emptiness, at the feeling of his cum sliding out. He presses the blunt tip of the vibrator against your hole, slides it in slowly. His cum dribbles down your thighs and onto the floor as your cunt tries to accommodate the toy.

“No,” you whine, wiggling your hips the best you can. They ache — from the strain of staying in one position for so long and — you swear there are bruises against your hip bones from the edge of the table. Suguru sighs and pulls the toy out.

“Satoru,” he says and you blink the mist from your eyes, try to find their shapes in the room. Suguru is holding the vibrator out to Satoru, who slowly raises his head, chest still heaving. His hand is wrapped around his cock, cum splattered across it and your underwear and his pants. “Clean it up.”

Satoru opens his mouth and allows Suguru to place the toy onto his tongue.

You laugh from your spot, a wheezing laugh as you struggle to catch your breath, toes just barely reaching the sticky floor, your brother's cum running down your thighs. “You fucking weirdo.”

Suguru closes the little space that exists between you and presses his mouth to yours. His tongue prods at the seam of your lips and they open, allowing his tongue to explore your mouth. He pulls away just as you lean in, a hand fisted in his damp curls.

“You talk too much,” he says.

[seedsplease]

The Runaway

A clerical error, they called it. Someone somewhere had listed him as dead, and now he had a living, breathing daughter out there who he'd never met. Until now. Warnings: Past child abuse mentions. References to canon typical violence. Some implied dark themes. Word Count: 9.1k AO3 Thank you to the amazing @minilev who I was very lucky to commission for this piece of Jacob and Calpurnia. I thoroughly recommend commissioning them if you ever get the chance!! Also I am sure that most of this situation is very unrealistic legally but hey shh don't worry about. Please enjoy! <3

The woman exited the car with a click of her heel on cobbled stone. Holding an almost useless umbrella in one hand and clutching a gleaming briefcase tight in the other, she stood and methodically surveyed the sprawling ranch - despite the weather doing its best to send sprays of rainwater into her eyes.

The cherry-stained wood of the house was welcoming and warm, and the lush grounds of the property would give ample room for an inquisitive and creative mind. She also knew there was a river that was only a stone’s throw away that would be a welcome reprieve from heat in the summertime. There was an airstrip behind the house, and the lovely receptionist at the police station had even told her there were supposed to be tennis courts somewhere on the grounds.

It was, in short, idyllic.

She took a few steps up towards one of the multiple entrances to the house, tilting the umbrella slightly into the oncoming wind to try and make it more effective at keeping her dry - and to avoid the flimsy thing flipping inwards. First impressions were everything, she knew; especially with such sensitive matters, and she would prefer to not turn up as a bearer of heavy news looking like a drowned rat.

Eyes glued to the pavement to watch her step, she focused on rehearsing the usual script that came with her profession. Her manner was important, of course; when delivering the news she was, her demeanor was necessary to smooth over any unpredictable reactions. And, when thinking of the one she was representing - ferreted away back in the hotel room across the river - the woman prayed that there would be nothing but ease in these events.

Before she’d even crossed halfway towards the house, she heard the sound of doors opening. A rush of warm but muted light came out from the entrance - a slight flickering in the background indicative of a lit fire, inviting from the chill of the rain. A man dressed in svelte-blue emerged from the warmth of the home, stepping onto the porch with a slow but confident stride.

He stood there for a second, surveying her quickly but thoroughly, before he gestured for her to join him on the front step. She eagerly rushed to do so, giving a quick huff of relief when she fell under the cover of the roof.

Clutching her briefcase tightly - thankfully it had escaped most of the rain - she hurried to try and calm her frazzled appearance; brushing down her jacket and skirt as though it would do anything to help salvage her put-together demeanor. Clearing her throat, she glanced up at the man once more, finally taking him in as her composure slowly returned.

To his credit, he allowed her that period of grace.  

“Good morning,” the man said with a smile that didn’t entirely reach his eyes. He paused, giving a pointed glance to the near overpowering sound of the rain. A few moments passed before it lulled enough for him to speak. “Or perhaps not.” He gave a wry look before continuing. “How might I help you, my dear?”

She faltered for a moment, taking in the sight of him and repressing a frown; he was certainly not the man she was looking for. Did she have the wrong address? The lovely receptionist at the police office had seemed very certain when she’d inquired about the Seed family living in the vicinity. Upon a second look, however, she noticed there was something in the eyes - piercing blue, and slightly too sharp - that seemed vaguely familiar enough for her to chance to continue with a renewed sense of confidence.

“I’m sorry to intrude this morning. My name is Mary McAllister, I’m with social services.” The man’s eyebrows rose, but he remained silently expectant. She withheld a grimace, but continued nonetheless. “I’m looking for a J. Seed.”

The man barked out a laugh.

“I’m afraid you’ll need to be more specific, my dear.”

She frowned, and was about to respond before she saw a second man step towards the entryway. He did not leave the house itself, but loomed nearby; eyes trained on her in a way that made her neck prickle like an animal at unease. Camo-decked and broad, with a red-hilted knife strapped to his thigh and arms crossed over his chest, he stared her down with the intent to cow; an expression she was all too familiar with.

Unbeknownst to him, he had utterly given himself away.

“No need,” she replied to the man in blue, while not taking her eyes off the imposing soldier in the doorway. “I believe I’ve found who I’m looking for.”

It had been a rough morning for Rook.

Some idiot had started a fire out the back shed of the goddamn haunted hotel, Miss Mabel was convinced someone had stolen her prized taxidermy fish - she’d forgotten she’d moved it yesterday and decided to call the police before doing the bare minimum of a search - some loser had dropped nails along the Whitetail Road and had punctured her tires, and - to top everything off - the garage at Falls End told her there’d be a few hours wait until someone could come to help. Absolutely brilliant.

The only silver lining was that the Grill Streak was open, and Chad was more than happy to let her plonk herself down in a chair by the window and wait. It could have been worse; she could have been out in the cold, and unfortunately, she was certainly not dressed to be exposed to the elements for hours on end.

As it was, she was content to sit by the window for the slow-trudging passing of the hours, watching little rivulets of rainwater race down the glass as her main form of entertainment, broken up with Chad intermittently coming to the front and checking in on her.

It was about an hour into her dreadful vigil that she saw the girl.

An over-sized flannel was spread out above her head, doing a poor job at keeping the rain away. Her clothes and hair were sodden despite her efforts, even as she tried to shelter underneath a large tree; they weighed her down and were surely uncomfortable to be walking in. Logically, she ought to have rushed towards the diner the second she’d spotted it, yet for some reason, she’d held herself back; trying to stay near the treeline, almost out of sight.

Rook was a deputy in a small barely-a-town in the middle of nowhere; she had enough experience with runaways to clock one at a distance.

She sighed, pushing herself up out of the seat, and called out a quick explanation to Chad out back, before briskly walking towards the glass door. Either the trill of the bell or the sound of the door shutting behind her alerted the young girl to her presence; her head shot up like a deer, furtive eyes latching onto a perceived predator in an instant. Undoubtedly, Rook’s uniform likely gave her no reassurance, and even at a distance, she could hear the clockwork gears ticking in the girl’s head.

Rook slowly raised her hands in the air and lowered her head slightly as she approached, grimacing as she tried to ignore the pinpricks of the harsh rain slamming on the side of her face.

“Hey!” She called out, loud enough to hopefully be heard through the ruckus of the weather. The girl’s head tilted in acknowledgment, but her eyes were narrowed. Rook pretended to be oblivious to the girl’s wariness as she continued. “Hey, the diner’s open! Come wait until the rain goes!”

The girl’s eyes scanned her surroundings furtively, and Rook resisted the urge to groan as she knew that look; that was the look of someone preparing to start running. Fate decided to intervene, it seemed; fate or a very unobservant driver. The truck came careening around the corner onto Whitetail Road with far too much speed to be safe in these conditions, but Rook wasn’t particularly concerned with taking the truck’s details down as the comically large spray of water came down like a burst dam onto her and the girl both.

Rook’s mouth opened in a grimace, no doubt now resembling more a drowned rat than a disgruntled deputy. Across from her, the girl finally lowered her flannel - now at last unable to deny that it was doing little to protect her from the weather. A mixture of frustration and perhaps desperation came across her face, her eyes blinking rapidly as she tried to scan her surroundings for another option.

Despite the pounding rain’s windswept needles against her skin, Rook held out her hand placatingly.

“Hey,” she said soothingly when the rain quietened down enough so as for her to be heard. “I’m not gonna call anyone, I promise. Just come and sit in the diner until the rain goes. That’s it.”

The girl’s eyes were still narrowed, but the chill seeping into her sodden bones was a powerful motivator. She gave one last look around her, before latching back onto Rook’s sincere expression. There was a moment of hesitation, but she eventually gave a short, slow nod.

“Okay,” she mumbled, the sound barely audible.

Moving before the girl could change her mind, the two set off back across the road - finally fortunate as they passed undercover just as the rain came back with a pounding vengeance. Rook gave a look back onto the road, drenched as it was, and wondered whether there’d be some sort of flood warning by evening.

The girl wasn’t focused on the rain, however, but on Rook’s car, pathetically pushed off to the side of the road - poorly shielded from the weather, naturally, but it was likely the punctured tires that caught the eye first.

Rook sighed and shook her head.

“It’s been a rough day,” she said as her only explanation.

In spite of herself, the girl couldn’t help but give a brief snort of a laugh. Privately, Rook celebrated that; perhaps there was hope.

Chad was waiting for them at the counter when they walked into the diner. She turned to the girl and gestured over at him.

“What do you feel like?” She asked, and when she saw the girl withdraw slightly, she rushed to continue. “My treat.”

The girl still looked hesitant.

“The weather isn’t going anywhere soon,” Rook insisted.

“Just…hot cocoa,” the girl mumbled, staring away and out the window. A flush was spreading on her cheeks, but she glanced down as though to hide it. “Please.”

Chad nodded and scurried away, while Rook and the girl moved over to the table where Rook’s bag still rested. They had barely been there a few seconds before Chad re-emerged and looked heaven-sent as he carried two towels in his hands.

“Oh shit, you’re an angel,” Rook gasped out, before snapping her mouth shut and grimacing at her language as she looked over at her young companion. “I mean…oh, fuck.”

Beside her, the girl couldn’t help but give her little huff of a laugh again. Brilliant; Rook was already being a bad influence.

Dejected, her shoulders were lowered as she reached out for one of the towels, while the girl slowly did the same.

“Thanks, Chad,” Rook said, scrunching at her hair to try and remove the worst of the water.

They made themselves comfortable, sitting down by the window once more as the rain pounded against the glass at their side.

Rook tilted her head, and tried not to look too obvious as she peered curiously at the girl, now that they were given a moment of respite. She had dark rings under her eyes, and her nails had been chewed to the quick - little reddish marks by the nailbeds from picking at them.

The girl hesitantly placed her flannel down on the booth beside her - careful to rest it upon the already dampened towel. Her surprisingly dry backpack (perhaps the flannel had protected something, at least) remained seated on the ground, carefully tucked behind her leg.

“So,” Rook began, placing an elbow on the table and leaning down to rest her chin upon her palm. “You must be damned determined to go on a hike today.”

The girl couldn’t help a snort, but refused to meet her eyes.

“Sort of,” she replied, something of a brick wall.

There was a beat of silence, broken only by the eerie whistle of the wind finding a crevice to sing through.

Rook sighed, tossing up which angle she should use.

“You know…there are lots of wild animals around here,” she said, careful to try and avoid spooking her. “Kind of dangerous to go wandering out here on your own. At least without some way to defend yourself.”

The girl’s cheeks flushed red, and she adamantly stared out the window.

“Yeah,” she replied. “I saw a moose.”

Rook’s eyebrows rose, and she felt a flash of panic at the thought of the girl alone by the road with a moose. Perhaps the girl sensed her concern, as she rushed to continue.

“Don’t worry,” she said, shaking her head. “It was really far away.”

Rook wanted to say more, but allowed the matter to drop for now - she doubted it would be particularly useful for her to be too forward with her worry. Instead, they lapsed into a silence again, the girl no doubt waiting for the rain to subside before she could make her dash off into the wilderness with the foolhardiness only a teenager could possess. To what end, she likely hadn’t realistically thought out yet; more like she had a vague destination in mind and only a rough idea (if that) of how to get there.

Rook’s hand dropped to the table and her fingers began to drum a soft pattern against the top.

“So I’m Rook,” she said, and paused for a moment before beginning to wade into the fray. “Look, you don’t have to talk to me if you really don’t want to, but…are you okay?”

“Fine,” the girl replied instantly, flat as a note.

The sound of bricks being laid on a wall was near audible.

“Okay.” Rook nodded slowly, retreating proverbially and choosing another angle to try. “It really is dangerous out there on your own though; is there someone I could call for you?”

“Nope.”

Strike two.

Rook sighed, fingers tapping just a little faster before she made the decision to be firmer.

“Look, I’m not going to try and stop you,” she promised, dropping the animal coaxing voice and falling to a normal register, “but this weather is supposed to last for days, and you’re clearly set on running right out into it again.”  

The girl’s eyes snapped to meet her own, narrowing. Rook didn’t let it deter her.

“So the way I see it is that you go running off and spend the night in that”- she jerked her head towards the window meaningfully - “or you stay here for now and have a chat with someone who genuinely wants to help you.”

The girl paused, and for the first time, a flash of uncertainty came across her face. Perhaps now that the adrenaline of her runaway escapade was wearing off, the reality of the situation was beginning to come crashing down on her.

There was another beat of silence before the girl finally spoke.

“I’m Callie,” she said quietly.

Rook internally breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hi, Callie,” she replied with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

A clerical error, they called it. Someone somewhere had listed him as dead, and now there was a living, breathing, sentient human out there who was alive because of him.

Jacob stood by the fireplace. It merrily lit the room in flickering waves of warm gold, a respite from the howling weather outside the door. Behind him, John was scouring through paperwork. He was good at that sort of thing; he’d been a godsend so far with the social services worker, always getting the right details, asking questions that Jacob wouldn’t have even thought to ask. Now he was reading through everything, leaving no stone unturned; this was far too important a matter for a lack of due diligence.  

A child was involved, after all.

Joseph was handling the worker - probably for the best. John was charming enough in doses, but a little bit too sharp-edged if you paid close attention and Jacob was far too out of his depth to be eloquent enough to handle this situation with the care it needed. Joseph, however, was naturally magnetic, could talk to you in a way that made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

Given how integral he was to Jacob’s life, Joseph’s charisma would likely be the greatest asset in convincing the worker. A foolish part of him wanted to hiss at the thought of needing to convince someone that the child - his child - should be under his care rather than anyone else’s, but then he thought of his own parents. Biology, he knew, was the furthest indicator of parental fitness.

At the least, the project’s actions in the county were still mostly discreet; with the exception of a few murmurings of discontent, there were yet to be any justified stirrings of suspicion among the locals - at least, none that the police had taken seriously. That would come in time, Jacob knew, but by then, he would make sure the flock was ready. As such, their official record was sure to look - for the most part - squeaky clean. And if this worker had really been scouring for blood relatives, then he suspected she might be eager to settle for a good-looking option and wouldn’t dig too deeply regardless.

A child.

He remembered the woman who’d sat next to him at the single visit he'd made to a local bar back in Georgia. Going there at all had been a one-time experiment of sorts; the desperate writhing of one seeing the approaching end of his funds as an inevitable death knell. Others he knew found solace in strange vices, and a drowning man could not shirk any hand held before him. But the woman had been pleasant, chattering away at him about ancient history of all things - her profession, he remembered her saying - and taking his brick wall answers in stride.

It had been one of the most mundane human interactions he’d had in a long time. He wasn’t oblivious though; he’d seen the looks she was giving him, hints to the real motive in her approach. When the ball had dropped, he’d found himself surprisingly approving of her bluntness.

“My now ex-fiance fucked his coworker a few days ago,” she’d said, before her mouth had turned downwards. “Been with him since high school.”

Ah.

“Sorry,” he’d replied, the compulsion of social niceties that he’d yet to tamper down.

She’d scoffed.

“Yeah, me too.” Her nose had crinkled into a frown. “Anyway, I want to fuck someone else now.” She’d taken a sip of her drink and given a contemplative hum, pointing a finger at him from over the rim of the glass. “And you’re just my type.”

Soldiers attracted some sort of attention, he’d found out in the past, but disheveled and marked as he was, he hadn’t particularly anticipated that attitude carrying over. But even then, there had seemed to be something more to the woman’s approach.

“Look like him, do I?” He’d asked, raising an eyebrow.

She’d snorted.

“The opposite,” she’d replied.

Part of him was glad he’d said yes; it was enough of a distraction that he hadn’t burnt through what funds remained to him on an impulsive and desperate experiment. She’d been firm that it would be a one-time thing, and he’d had no qualms about that either. It was another type of experiment, he’d thought, and it served its purpose pleasantly enough.

Doing the math now, by the time the kid had been born, Jacob would likely have been in the shelter. Or potentially, he would have recently reunited with his brothers. If the social services worker was right, the woman had probably tried to reach out to find him.

And a single clerical error meant he was only hearing about this kid now.

“Callie.” The social services worker had revealed the girl’s name. “Calpurnia… technically.” She’d given a small laugh. “You can see why she prefers Callie.”

John had smiled indulgently, all too eager - perhaps more than the girl’s father himself - for any information about his niece.

“It’s Roman,” Jacob had spoken up, already standing vigil by the fireplace. All eyes turned to him, but he didn’t elaborate further.

Joseph and John had taken control, moving smoothly through an unprecedented situation. Jacob might have been frustrated at own his inaction, had he the mental capacity to focus on anything else but the reeling of his head.

What did this mean?

He was a weapon; he lived to carve a bloody path for his brothers and their flock to walk safely when the inevitable Collapse of society arrived. He lived to die; to butcher until he too gave a final whimper and broke like the used husk of a weapon he was. He lived to make sacrifices; to do what others could not.

How the fuck did a child fit into that?

His brothers’ eagerness could barely be contained; he knew they already saw some divine ordainment in this, a lost child of their blood being brought into their fold just before the world would collapse. How could that not be a gift from God? But he knew there was more to it; they loved him for all he did to protect them, but they also worried for him.

“You are our protector,” Joseph had told him once, grasping him by the shoulders and bringing his head close enough to his own to see his earnest expression, “but you are my brother.” He’d shaken his head gently, something like sorrow crossing his eyes. “I want to see you live.”

Jacob knew John felt the same. They meant well, but they didn’t understand. That was okay; he made the sacrifices he did so that they wouldn’t have to understand. But he knew they saw this girl as more than just family; she was an opportunity.

Joseph had taken the social services worker through the house, showing where the girl would live. It would be short work to convince the woman, Jacob thought - he’d seen the cross on her necklace, how she’d warmed up when Joseph had introduced himself as a church leader.

Before sitting down to begin poring over the paperwork, John had approached Jacob by the fireplace, leaning against the warm stone and looking towards the front door absentmindedly.

“You know,” John had begun softly, eyes slowly flicking over to Jacob, “our newest dear sister can never be alone with the girl.”

Jacob had immediately understood his brother’s warning.

“Dear Faith will have such thoughts running through her mind,” John had continued, voice light despite his ominous subject. “So desperate to please the Father… however will she take a strange new interloper joining our family?”

Jacob’s mouth had twitched.

“Not as much an interloper as she is,” he’d replied, surprisingly irked at the thought.

“Yes, and that’s precisely what she’ll fear; a blood daughter making the role of a sister irrelevant.” He then sighed, peering over to the table. “And who knows what she might do in such fear?”

John had pushed himself off the wall, reaching out to clasp his elder brother on the shoulder and leaning in to softly speak.

“Little Callie is going to need a protector,” he’d said, before he’d turned to go and begin the arduous labour of paperwork.

Manipulative little shit.

Jacob sighed, looking down into the fire as a nail dug itself insistently into his head. Knowing that he was being manipulated was surprisingly ineffective at preventing it.

“Everything looks to be in order.” John’s voice now cut through the soft silence, a final page flipping back into place.

From the entryway to the kitchen, Joseph and the social services worker peered over at them. Joseph had been taking the woman on an impromptu tour through the house and judging by the woman’s pleased expression, John’s ranch had passed with flying colours.

They congregated by the table; John smoothing down the files with a self-assured smile. The social services worker rushed to confirm the details - the time passing like a blur in Jacob’s eyes, almost seeing himself from a distance standing as a scarecrow off to the side. It was only when the woman spoke that Jacob was wrenched back into reality.

“I’ll make the call,” she said with a gentle smile, nodding at them as she wandered off towards the front porch for a moment of privacy.

Jacob blinked a few times, scolding himself internally for not paying more attention. What was the call for? To meet the girl? To have her brought here? His rational mind was telling him to steel himself; he needed to be strong. He needed to be better than him.

This was family. And he protects the family.

Joseph’s hand came down on his shoulder, making him take a sharp breath and glancing over to meet his brother’s eyes. Underneath the familiar golden glasses, Joseph’s face was solemn but gentle nonetheless.

“This is a gift,” he murmured. “She has been brought to us now, when we can protect her from the Collapse. I know this is what God wanted.” His eyes sharpened slightly, intense but no less intimate. “You know this too.”  

Jacob had never quite figured out the difference between believing his brother or wanting to believe him. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

He nodded, because even without Joseph - even without John - he would have come to the same conclusion himself. His purpose remained unchanged; he would cull the herd, so that his family might live. What did it matter that his family had an extra addition now?

The sound of hurried footsteps made them all turn to see the worker rushing back towards them, phone in hand and looking more frazzled than they’d seen her all day. His eyes narrowed, the foreboding evoking only a cold apathy in him - the best way to steel himself for taking action.

“It’s…the girl,” the worker began, voice reedy and broken as she snapped her head to and fro between all three brothers in a panic. “She’s supposed to be in the hotel. But she's...run away.”

There was a strange sort of thrill, a smugness in his chest that was ill-suited for the concerning situation, something he could never utter aloud. Something proud; something strangely reminiscent of the headstrong and foolish boy he’d once been. Of course she’d run away.

It seemed she was his daughter, after all.  

"I’m sorry for your loss,” Rook said.

The girl nodded, finger thumbing along the edge of her flannel, which still sat damp beside her. Rook could see she was tracing along the shape of two sewn letters, S.F. The thread was faded, but the flannel itself was well-worn.

“How long…” Rook trailed off, eyes carefully scanning the girl in front of her to try and figure whether saying the words out loud would be detrimental.

“Since she died?” Callie finished for her, eyebrows twitching in what might have been annoyance. “A few months.”

Bluntness was preferred, it seemed. Perhaps Rook should have figured that; it had taken her removing the kid gloves to get the girl to even start opening up at all.

"So you’ve got family here?” Rook asked, playing for a bit more nonchalance as she took a sip from her coffee. “People who’ll take you in?”

The girl shrugged, staring down at her own drink.

“I guess.” She lapsed into silence, letting the steam from the mug rise to brush against her face. Her cheeks were flushed red from the cold, but the time inside the diner had helped soothe her somewhat, both physically and mentally. At the very least, she was no longer staring a little too hard at the front door.

“Well, that’s…good?” Rook spoke the words like a question, hesitant and lame.

Callie’s nose crinkled, brows pinching together.

“I had family back home,” she said, the words close to a whine. “Why can’t I just stay with them?” She sniffled quickly, and raised a hand to rub at her nose. Her cheeks were flushing again, and Rook suspected it was also from embarrassment. “This is so stupid.”

Rook nodded, but moreso to think rather than to placate. She knew by now that placating would only be met with derision at best and withdrawal at worst. Presumably, there was a good reason that the girl had been brought here rather than where she’d previously lived.

“What family do you have here?” She asked, voice light to try and distract the girl from her thoughts.

She shrugged.

“A dad,” Callie replied, the word spoken with surprising - or perhaps forced - apathy.

Rook raised her eyebrows.

“You haven’t met him before?” She asked, then winced and hoped she hadn’t come off as judgemental.

Callie shook her head, face turning fully sideways to stare out of the window at the ceaseless rain. Her fingers tugged at the collar of her drying flannel next to her, but Rook couldn’t see her expression.

“Mom said he was dead,” she said, her voice successfully staying even. “They were looking for any family on my dad’s side, and saw he wasn’t.” Rook assumed ‘they’ meant social services. The girl continued, voice turning back into a huff as she busied at her metaphorical and angry, open wound again. “I could’ve just stayed with my aunt; this is so stupid.”

Eager to interrupt that train of thought once more, Rook leaned forward slightly over the table, her fingers toying with the handle of her pleasantly warm coffee mug.

“Do you…not want to meet him, then?” Rook asked, voice as neutral as possible.

The girl shrugged, but stubbornly said nothing. Perhaps she didn’t know the answer herself.

Rook didn’t quite know what to say; she did not want to try and influence the girl’s thoughts - that wouldn’t be fair when she didn’t know her circumstances intimately. She also understood, however, that the alternative was for this girl to go running off into the wilderness or else be forced to stay with her hitherto unknown father and - if she had any grasp on Callie’s personality - potentially sour the relationship entirely.

"Do you know anything about him?” She asked instead; she might be new to the county, but it wasn’t impossible for her to answer.

“They said he was a soldier or something,” Callie replied, shrugging again. “Last name’s Seed.” She rolled her eyes while staring down at her flannel, and muttered to herself: “Stupid name.”

Rook bit back a smile - even she knew better than to encourage that attitude in a teenager - and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe don’t tell him that.”

The girl huffed a laugh.

Rook thought for a moment, trying to recall anything about a Seed; it was certainly an unusual name and not one she was likely to forget. It took a few seconds, but it eventually came to her; she’d vaguely heard the name mentioned in relation to the relatively new church out by the river somewhere. She wasn’t too familiar with it herself, but the talkative receptionist at the police station, Nancy, spoke highly of them. They’d apparently been quite proactive in the community - setting up a few initiatives and taking over the youth camp near the Henbane River when it had been threatened with bankruptcy.

“Don’t know if it’s the same one, but I’ve heard a little about some Seed family around here,” Rook told her, frowning thoughtfully. The girl was poorly hiding her flash of curiosity as Rook continued. “I think they head up a local church; they run a few things in the area.”

Callie nodded slowly, not looking at her but clearly taking in the information with at least a little bit of interest. Rook wondered whether the girl - or her late mother - was religious; if they were, it could help smooth over some of the introduction, give her and her father something to bond over. Or perhaps she was just being desperately optimistic.

A too-eager churchgoer for the girl’s father left Rook feeling a sense of worry in her stomach. She’d spent only a small amount of time with her, but given the state this girl was in after her mother’s death - the way she seemed to have been dealing with it in a prickly, anger-prone nature - Rook worried whether an exuberant or overly pushy figure in her life might lead the girl to reject him entirely. And that, she knew, would no doubt lead to another runaway attempt - one that might prove more successful than the current one, if the weather was willing.

She began to tap a small rhythm on her coffee mug again thoughtfully.

“Are you…not even a little curious?” Rook asked gently, tilting her head. The girl’s eyes flickered over to her, brow creasing as Rook continued. “What he’s like?” She hesitated a second and her voice lowered as she pressed on with caution. “Do you…really not want to even meet him?”

The girl didn’t answer, but a flash of hesitation came over her. Rook frowned, but didn’t want to press her further as the girl’s eyes fell down to the flannel at her side. Her face twisted into something like anguish, as her brow creased and her eyes welled up in frustration; hand rising only to clench into a fist and fall back on her leg too forcefully to be accidental.

It hit Rook in an instant. The hesitation, the acting out, the runaway; the girl felt guilty. She probably was curious about the stranger who was now her father, she probably did want to see him. But in doing so - in even wanting to do so - did she feel like it was a betrayal? Like she was conceding something; saying that her mother was somehow replaceable.

In playing such a pantomime; the self-sacrificial martyr could see her mother at the end of her days and proudly proclaim that she had never betrayed her. Yet, Rook knew that the sort of person who could inspire such love was unlikely to be pleased with their daughter deliberately isolating herself from a misplaced sense of loyalty.

It was a foolish thought. Yet grief was rarely anything else.

“You’re allowed to be curious, you know,” Rook said, quiet but firm - if this girl had created her own moral restrictions, then all Rook could do was provide opposing permissions.

The girl didn’t reply, still not looking up. For a moment, Rook wondered whether she’d even been heard. She pressed on nonetheless.

“You’re allowed to meet him,” Rook continued.

This time, the girl looked up at her, and in her eyes was the expression of every runaway; someone desperate and lost. Someone who wants to go home, even if they don’t yet know what their home might be.

Rook breathed in deeply, before reaching down to her bag. She rummaged around for a few moments - cursing her own lack of organisation - and pulled out a slightly crinkled notepad and pen. Flicking it open, she scribbled down her work number.

“Here,” she said, tearing the page off and passing it over. “Whatever you decide to do, you can take this and give me a call if you need help.”

She hoped that if things didn’t go well, that maybe having a number to call would prevent the girl from wandering off into the wilderness and never being heard from again. But perhaps, if she knew that there was someone who was on her side, she might feel brave enough to move forward.

A flash of headlights interrupted the moment, and Rook glanced out the window to see one of the local mechanics from Falls End pulling into the carpark. Her eyes boggled - it had only been an hour and a half since she’d made the call; this sort of efficiency was highly disturbing in Hope County.

The mechanic stepped out and glanced over to where Rook’s sad little car sat off to the side of the road, deflated tires looking like a wretched, popped balloon. She swore she saw the man laugh.

“That’s me,” she said, picking up her cooled drink and downing the rest in a large gulp. “I’ve gotta go sort this out.”

She was stepping away and about to head to the door when the girl’s voice stopped her.

“I’ll do it,” Callie said, voice soft and reedy. Her brow furrowed and she cleared her throat before speaking again, firmer this time. “I’ll go meet him.” She shrank again, eyes falling back to the table. “Could you… come with me?”

Rook stood still for a moment, processing. It was certainly not lost on her how difficult it must have been for the girl to ask. Rook’s eyes crinkled as she smiled warmly.

“Sure thing, kid.”

One hour and a phone call to a very distressed social services worker later, they pulled into the Seed ranch.

Rook hadn’t been here before, but she remembered hearing Nancy rave about what a lovely place it was and how it could “really put Hope County on the real estate map!” The last comment had resulted in groans from the other deputies; the last thing they wanted was an influx of rich city folk looking for a novel country house to sit empty until it was used at a whim.

While this sprawling ranch looked large, it did not look empty.

Three brothers stood in the driveway as she pulled in. The rain was gentle now; not pinpricks but a pattering, deigning to relent in mercy for the meeting taking place. Two umbrellas stood tall, offering the brothers some comfort as they watched her car amble into the driveway.

Rook and Callie sat for a moment, the girl’s own window facing away from the men, something she was taking full advantage of as she stared out at the trees without really seeing anything.

“Hey,” Rook said softly. “How are you feeling?”

The girl was silent for a moment, before turning her head to look at her - the rustling of the movement sounding as loud as a gunshot inside the car. Her flannel had dried enough for her to wear again, and she pulled it at the sleeves to draw it tight as a blanket around her.

“It’s huge,” Callie replied, pointedly looking through the front windshield. “That’s a fucking airstrip.”

“Language.” Rook sighed - she really hoped that wasn’t her brief influence - then raised an eyebrow. “Hey, if you want to run away again, at least you can do it in style now.”

The girl snorted, before letting her eyes fall down to her backpack between her legs. Her hands were curled tightly around one of its arms.

Rook gave a quick glance towards the men in the driveway, waiting patiently for them. A woman was stumbling out of the house to join them, awkwardly shaking out her own umbrella - Rook assumed that was the social services worker she’d spoken to on the phone.

She turned back to the girl.

“Shall we?”

“Wait,” Callie said sharply, staring somewhat furiously down at her lap.

A few moments passed in silence, before the girl took a large, almost gulp of air.

“Okay,” she said, impulsively wrenching her side door open and stepping out forcefully - as though afraid she’d change her own mind.

They stepped out into the driveway - Rook having pilfered an umbrella out of the car’s backseat - and walked towards the congregation. From a distance, she’d already figured out which of the men in front of her was the girl’s father - camo-decked, tall and face withdrawn in an expression she’d seen far too many times that day to count.

It was to her surprise then, when the man beside him stepped out from underneath the umbrella and walked towards them. His expression was welcoming, magnetic and he was oddly unfazed by the rain seeping into his bone-white shirt.

Behind him, the other two men slowly followed.

“Hello, my child,” the first man said, smiling gently. He knelt down in front of the girl, a strange move that put him well below her height rather than level with her - something that ought to have been awkward, but the man had an indescribable charisma that managed to pull it off.  

Rook’s eyebrows rose.

“You’re her father?” She asked, trying to keep the surprise from her voice even as her eyes unwillingly glanced over to the redhead coming up behind him.

The man looked at her now, peering up through yellow glasses.

“I am not,” he said, giving a sheepish laugh and a shake of his head. “It’s simply a habit.” He turned his eyes back to the girl in front of him. “My name is Joseph. I am your uncle.”

“You’re the… church leader?” Rook asked, trailing off as she wasn’t certain what denomination she was dealing with.

The man smiled indulgently.

“I am the Father, yes,” he replied.

Catholic, she assumed.

Joseph stood once more and glanced at the tall man behind him.

“And this is my brother, Jacob,” he said softly, smiling down at his niece.

But the girl was not looking at her uncle; her eyes had already latched onto the redhead who had come to stand at his younger brother’s side.

He was staring right back at her.

The two were in a strange sort of deadlock, perhaps not even consciously, yet it seemed to Rook that neither were actually seeing the other. They stared as though seeing someone in a television screen, someone real, someone they could watch without needing to be present - without needing to be perceived themselves. They could see the other, but safely from a distance.

Unlike his brother, Jacob did not kneel to be below the girl’s level. Somehow, Rook knew that Callie preferred it that way.

Joseph gestured to Jacob, even though he surely knew that the two already were well aware of who it was they were looking at.

“Your father,” he said, the words quiet but they could have truly been a whisper for all they still sounded like shattering glass.

The girl seemed to snap out of her strange trance, and whipped her head to the side, face scrunching up into a frown. Her hand reached out to clasp Rook’s, squeezing tightly as a vice with unexpected strength that nearly made Rook wince.

It was a surprising gesture, but perhaps it shouldn’t have been. Rook met the girl’s eyes and gave a reassuring smile. Whether it worked or not was unclear, but at the very least, Callie turned her head back around again.

She did not look at her father, however; her eyes latched onto the frazzled social services worker standing behind the men. Sometime in the past few minutes, the woman’s umbrella had flipped inwards - making her scowl as she was trying to right it. The last of the three men - a man dressed in blue - had been gracious enough to give the woman some coverage with his own umbrella as she worked.

A flash of guilt came across the girl’s face.

“Sorry, Mary,” she mumbled, mouth twisting.

Rook wondered if Callie was aware of how every man in that driveway seemed to hang onto her every word.

Glancing over at the young girl, Mary’s face smoothed out into an exasperated smile.

“I’m just glad you’re safe,” she huffed out. Her umbrella back in place, she stepped away from the other man with a grateful nod, and seemed content to stand a distance away and allow the meeting between the girl and her family to take place with a semblance of privacy.

The man in blue, now free, seemed all too eager to approach the others. Of all the men, he seemed the most cautious, however; he appeared to be aware of how tenuous the situation truly was - that their very presence was not going to inherently make a happy family - and thus he wanted to give her some space even as he came to meet them.

Though he could not hide his eagerness, he at least made an attempt to not stare directly at her and risk her discomfort, even as his eyes shined with poorly-concealed curiosity.

Instead, he turned towards Rook.

“You have my thanks for delivering my niece to us safely.” His smile was too sharp, but Rook simply attributed that to the stress of the situation. “You are a deputy, yes?”

She nodded.

“Deputy Rook,” she introduced herself politely, yet continued to keep an eye on the girl beside her, who was intermittently staring at her father (and looking away again) as Joseph tried to coax her into some sort of conversation. Her father, similarly, did not speak a word.

“Then you have my thanks, Deputy Rook,” John repeated, stressing her name.

Rook smiled back half-heartedly, but she sensed the polite dismissal for what it was.

She knew it was time to go.

She squeezed the girl’s hand to get her attention, and the girl turned to face her - breaking off from one of her many staring contests.

Rook passed the handle of the umbrella over to Callie, who frowned and opened her mouth to protest.

“I’ve got others at home,” Rook said before the girl could speak. “You keep this one.”

Callie’s eyes widened as she realised that Rook was about to leave. She managed to somehow squeeze Rook’s hand even tighter, as though it would keep her there, but she said nothing. Pride, perhaps; a desire to not look like a child at the school gate begging a parent to stay.

But Rook was merely an interloper here, after all.

She smiled reassuringly, and with a small nod over to the men, she and the girl took a few steps off to the side for some semblance of momentary privacy. Behind them, Rook could feel the stares of the brothers like pinpricks against her skin, but she paid them no heed.

“Hey, these guys are real excited to meet you,” Rook murmured, the girl’s eyes owlish but intently focused on her. “They want you here. They want to look after you.”

The girl’s face scrunched into a frown again, but Rook saw the genuine temptation in the expression - the hope - and she knew that everything was going to be okay.

And perhaps she might have left it at that. She might have walked away without a second thought, and left the girl to reunite with her family in a picturesque happy ending.

She might have been content, were it not for a sudden, very illogical pang of unease in her stomach.

There was no reason for it - the three men in the driveway seemed innocuous, and she had heard only good things about them from the station’s receptionist. But as she felt their eyes trained on her as she spoke to the newest member of their family, there was a strange, almost primal prickling at the nape of her neck that made her reach down to her jacket pocket.

Discreetly, she caught the girl’s eye, and glanced meaningfully down at the phone that was just visible to only her.

“Remember,” she reminded the girl, who picked up on her meaning instantly. “Anything you need.”

Callie’s eyes narrowed, the expression oddly mature on her young face, and nodded intently.

Rook straightened back up, smiling again and thoroughly unaware that in only a few months, she would receive a message only hours before the county fell into chaos. That the runaway in front of her would make good on her habit once more and Rook would find out that the girl’s father and uncles would tear the county apart to try and find the girl in their own, incredibly misguided attempt to protect her.

And that she and Callie both would find themselves in Jacob Seed’s bunker come the end of the world.  

Rook shook off her unexplained anxiety, smiling down at the girl reassuringly as she stepped back to face the crowd beside her. She bid a quick farewell, and soon watched the back of a flash of red hair in her rearview mirror as she pulled out of the Seed Ranch’s driveway.

She should be proud, Rook knew. She’d helped reunite a family. She’d helped deliver a runaway to her new - and surprisingly large - home. Things were undoubtedly looking up for the girl she’d only barely been able to convince to not run off into the wilderness.

She’d done a good deed today.

Merrily, she drove towards Falls End, and allowed the resurging storm outside to drown out the soft alarm bells ringing in her head.

She looked like him, Joseph had said.

She looked like him, but not like the old man…and that was surely a mercy.

Her eyes were trained on the table - finding some hidden meaning in the ripples of the wood. A flannel shirt - faintly sodden - clung to her skin, a gentle sort of protection against the weather. It might have given her comfort, Jacob thought, seeing the way her fingers curled around the edges of her sleeves like a blanket she could draw over herself to keep her fears at bay.

To keep him at bay. A father she didn’t know, had never asked for, and didn’t want. The way she’d clung to that deputy’s hand like she was half-tempted to ask them to spirit her away. A lesser man might have let her; might have let themselves take the easy way out, to leap on the first opportunity to let the unforeseen daughter willingly scurry back out of their life and believe it a mercy.

But Jacob would be strong. Jacob would not be a lesser man.

A gentle cough - almost missed - came from the doorway to the kitchen. His eyes flickered over to see John standing by with two plates, still steaming from the stove-top. Casting a quick look back to the girl - satisfied she would not go running off into the storm in his momentary absence - he walked over to take the meals from his brother.

“Not joining us?” He asked softly.

John shook his head, despite giving a glance over to the girl with poorly-concealed curiosity.

“Not yet,” he replied. “I convinced Joseph that she will need some time alone with you first.”

With her father, Jacob thought, filling in the blanks with a startled jolt.

John gave a rueful half-smile. “Joseph wanted to argue, of course.”

Jacob could certainly believe it. He hadn’t entirely been convinced of the resemblance between the girl and himself when he’d first caught sight of her - that would be the mercy; to look more like the bright woman he remembered than he who bore the face of a madman. But then he’d seen Joseph’s expression; the way his eyes had softened the second he’d seen her, lips parting in a soundless, almost reverent gasp, and Jacob had immediately been convinced.

Joseph saw the brat of a boy that Jacob had been. Joseph did not see the face of a mad preacher.

Jacob must have been silent for too long, absently staring over at the little girl who was now his daughter, as John gave a soft contemplative hum.

“She has nothing to compare you to,” he said, almost callously apathetic for what he revealed. His brothers had been busy with the social services worker, it seemed. “You have no… replacement father that she is secretly wishing to return to. This family shall be her first…proper harbor.”

A lifetime ago, the calculated nature of his brother’s words might have alarmed him, but now only a deep-seated part of him was callously glad that he would be her only father. A late father, but the only.

There was an even darker part of him that knew there was spite in his gladness; a final chance of vindictiveness to the mad preacher - that in this, he might meet the old man at the end of his days and relish his success at his father’s disgusting failure.

He nodded to John, giving a soft noise of acknowledgment before he took the plates in hand and returned to the table where his…daughter still sat in silence. The sound of his setting the meal down in front of her felt like cannon fire, down to a harsh reverberation ringing in his chest.

The girl briefly looked up, eyes snapping to him quickly before determinedly falling down to stare at the cooling vegetables and meat. Her brow creased, and something like uncertainty crossed her face.

She cleared her throat and paused a moment before she spoke.

“I…don’t know if I can eat all this,” were the first words his daughter ever said to him.

He was silent, hands leaning on the back of the wooden chair for support as he stared down at the girl who looked like him. A spell had been broken, it seemed; a fugue state shattering now that she had spoken to him for the first time. Now, the present truly hit him. Now, it was real.

He blinked abruptly, raising his head to stare away at the distant window - rain hitting the glass like tiny rubber bullets. With one of his men, Jacob might have been critical; the privilege of denying oneself food was one he viewed with no shortage of disdain. But this was his child, a sudden creature to whom he now had a god-given role as protector and living sword.  

“That’s okay,” he murmured in reply.

They lapsed once more into a silence, but this time it felt more comfortable; something they both initiated but were content to sit in. He took his place beside her, setting to eat his own share. The warmth of the fireplace seeped into their very bones, and he imagined the girl was glad for it - having been out in the rain for most of the day.

He wondered if she would try to run again. He wondered what he would do. It was the project’s way to know - and enforce - what their flock needed better than they did themselves. And yet, the thought of trying to assert his own will over his child left him feeling somewhat disconcerted. Would that not be like him?

He dismissed the thought quickly; he would never raise a hand against her, and anything he did would be for her own benefit. The Collapse was coming, and this girl sitting now beside him, digging through her food with a fork and clutching at the hem of a well-worn flannel, would be kept safe from it.

Jacob would ensure it.

I hope you enjoyed! Calpurnia is technically my New Dawn captain, but in my 'canon' au, she obviously never meets Jacob. I wanted to be a little realistic in the dynamic between them here, in that yes, Jacob obviously wants to look after her and takes his role seriously here, but also he is still doing everything that he does in the cult and that will still affect his mindset. I don't intend her to be facing any physical violence in her future from them, but they will of course be trying to 'keep her safe from the Collapse.' Cult leader exceptionalism is playing a big part here of course, but I view that as pretty true to the game - the brothers all have a lot of cult leader exceptionalism going on, so I'm naturally extending that to Callie here too. She gets to go through the gates because she's a Seed, she doesn't have to do anything like atonement (one because she's a child and it's not shown whether that's expected of children in the cult), especially if Jacob doesn't want her to - if Joseph even suggested it, he'd be blocking it, in my opinion. Anyway, thank you for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed! <3