#for ex his hair turned white when it should be grey

[m-oshun]

Lately I can't stop focusing on little changes that happened to Drathus over time so I'm trying to get rid of them to get back to a more accurate version

[lvrxly]

ִ ࣪𖤐- An Odd Feeling

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

summary: your neighbor, Simon, is a single dad. and you frequently babysit his son, Oliver. You've grown to love Oliver, buying toys for him, planning play dates, and even offering to babysit him while his dad goes on a date..wait what? You really thought after all of this Simon would choose you, but maybe he will..?

cw: simon is somewhat oblivious at the beginning >:((, mdni - smut, slight age difference (Simon is in his mid-30s while the reader is in her mid-20s), unprotected sex, breeding kink on Simon's part, oral sex (f receiving), Simon can't help but want another kid after seeing how you treat his :((

a/n: sorry this took so long to get posted! and i apologize for any grammar mistakes, i don't have the energy to edit this right now ;( (it's almost 4am).

hope you enjoy lovies ;)

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"Thanks again for this love, I should be back around 9pm, please try and get him to bed before then," Ghost says frantically as he passes his son over to you along with his diaper bag and favorite blanket.

There was that damned nickname again. 'Love'. Simon always seemed to call you love, it was almost infuriating how that little pet name could make your heart race and your cheeks heat.

Simon had a date with someone a friend of his set up for him, Soap, you think was the guys name. From a photo Simon showed you, she was pretty, gorgeous even. Slim and tall, long blonde hair, and seemingly put together.

"Yeah no problem. Have fun, try and get laid. You definitely need it," You say with a dry laugh, bouncing his son, Oliver, over to your other hip. Why the fuck would you say that? 'Get laid?' Why would you even suggest such a fucking thing knowing you can barely stomach watching him go out on this date in the first place.

He cleans up nice, a fitted pair of dark grey khaki pants with a white button up shirt, the sleeves rolled, revealing his tattooed forearms, and his sandy blonde hair slicked back out of his face, making him less shaggy looking than you were used to.

Simon laughs and waves goodbye as he turns on the heels of his dress shoes and hops down the steps of your front porch. You wave at his back, shutting the door with a heavy sigh. You turn around and set Oliver down, watching as he bolts toward the little corner of your living room which you had designated as his play area for when he comes over.

Your heart feels heavy as you walk over towards your couch, tossing Oliver's diaper bag and blanket onto one of the cushions. You flop down onto the other cushion, kicking your feet up on the coffee table that is placed in front of your couch.

Oliver looks just like his father, from what you could see anyways. Dirty blonde hair, gunmetal blue eyes, and a small dimple on his left cheek. He was an adorable kid, an easy one to babysit too.

Oliver runs up to you, a toy tractor in his hand as he holds it up to you, his other hand rested on your knee as if to help him balance better. "Tac-tar!" He exclaims.

You smile at him, taking the toy he was offering you, and touching your fingertip on his nose, causing the little boy to giggle. Enough about Simon. Oliver was your date tonight. Your own play date buddy.

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It was a little after 9pm, maybe just about 9:47, when Simon got back. He had knocked on your door for a good 5 minutes before he gave up and decided to let himself in.

He used the key that you would poorly hide under your doormat. The two of you would get into arguments about the placement of the key.

"It's the most obvious spot, love, you're gonna end up getting robbed on of these days." Simon had said the day you told him where it was, he was always worrying about your safety. You knew he was an ex-military Lieutenant, but then again that might just be the dad in him talking.

After unlocking your front door and pushing it open he begins to speak, "Sorry I was a little later than I thou-" But he cuts himself off after his eyes land on your couch.

There you laid on your back, an arm falling off the couch and a leg propped up on the back cushion, snoring lightly. That position couldn't have been that comfortable. But that's not what made him freeze. It was how his son was laying on your chest, fast asleep with his favorite blanket draped over his back. You looked as if his son was your own.

His breathe is caught in his throat as he stares at the two of you, slowly shutting the door behind him as he makes his way over to the couch.

A small smile paints his face as he stands behind the small and slightly sad turquoise couch, bending down so his forearms rested in the back cushion. He watches you sleep, his eyes dragging up and down your frame. After a moment he uses a single finger to brush a stray piece of hair off of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

His smile never falters as he pets the back of his sons head, his long blonde hair slightly sweaty from how hot it probably was being all nuzzled up to you.

You stir in your sleep, your eyes fluttering, only for them to end up shooting wide open in shock. You gasp and clutch the back of Oliver, sighing after realizing who was really watching you sleep.

You sit up, cradling Oliver in your arms, careful not to wake him. "Do you normally watch people sleep?" You say with an annoyed look on your face as you rub your eyes, sleep still attempting to pull you back in.

After regaining most of your consciousness, you stand from the couch, your clothes wrinkled and Oliver's little head on your shoulder as you hold him in your arms.

"Eh, define normally," Simon says, a joking tone noticeable in his voice. Was he trying to make a joke? Since when did Simon Riley ever makes jokes? What the hell happened at the date?

"Your in a good mood. You didn't really end up getting laid right? You know what..? I don't think I wanna know." Your words are frantic and slightly irritated. Why did you feel so...odd right now? Simon is a single man. He has the right to go on dates with beautiful women. Unfortunately.

You bounce around your kitchen, rocking your hips side to side to keep Oliver asleep for as long as possible. You can't help but notice how Simons eyes follow your hips as they move. And..what was that? Did he just groan? No no, that would be crazy.

"No I didn't get laid," He finally replies. You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Almost like a breath of relief.

"If I was getting laid I would have gotten back a lot later..It takes more than 30 minutes with me, love.." Simon was suddenly behind you, his breath hot on your neck as his hands hover above your hips, heat radiating off of his tatted skin, almost scorching the flesh of your thighs through your pants.

You stop bouncing his son, glancing over your shoulder at Simon and..holy shit he was close, almost too close. Those damned eyes were pulling you under and you didn't know if you wanted to be saved.

Oliver shifts in your arms, waking up slowly. His tiny hands rub his eyes, rubbing the sleep out of them. Once he's awake and spots his dad he immediately makes grabby hands towards him.

You gladly hand him over to Simon, anything to get away from the man that was way way wayyyy to close for comfort. You give Oliver to his father and take a large step away from Simon. You see his smile falter but he quickly regains his composure when his son calls his name, his tiny hands on Simons cheeks.

"You have fun while I was away buddy?" He asks his son, to which Oliver responds with a vigorous nod. He then begins to blabble on about his trucks and snacks he ate, but you space out, your eyes still locked on the two of them.

Simon looked so good with a kid, he was a good dad. You can't help but imagine how good he must have been to his wife while she was pregnant. Her lose for leaving him. He's a great guy. Unfortunately, that means women probably throw themselves at him. Hot, ex-military, AND good with kids??? Yeah, they definitely do. And you would to, if you were so full of self doubt.

"Love?" You hear Simon say, his eyes now focused on you as Oliver was seemingly put down to go play for a little longer.

"I asked if you're free this weekend? Oliver is going over to his grandparents for a few days and I was wondering if you'd like to do something?" His voice was shy...that was weird. It's almost like-

"Are you asking me on a date?" You say, a teasing smirk playing across your lips.

"No no, well- no it's not like that. Just as friends, you know- without the ruckus of that one running around." When he says "that one" he points towards Oliver, who was currently crashing two tractors together and making a crash sound with his mouth.

"You know what? Sure Simon. I'll see you then."

He smiles, nodding softly as he runs his hands through his hair, the gelled effect must have worn off because it was back to its shaggy state, almost getting to the point it reached his eyes. He needed a haircut, but it's not like you didn't like the shaggy look. It was unexpectedly sexy.

Maybe it was just your hormones talking but everything about this man was unexpectedly sexy. His tired eyes from sleepless nights and early mornings, his tatted arms, a few of the tattoos colored in with what seemed like marker from Oliver, and his tall frame, almost towering over you to the point you had to look up to see his face.

You did suggest that he should get laid, but maybe you're the one who really needed the action. It's been who knows how long, and your getting so desperate that you literally can't look at him without butterflies fluttering in your stomach as well as..further south.

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After sending Simon and his son home, you immediately ran to your bedroom, quickly stripping out of your clothes and hopping into the warm water of your shower. With your back to the water and your hands in your hair, you can't help but let your mind wander back to your neighbor.

What was he doing right now? Was he helping Oliver brush his teeth? Was he just getting into the shower too? Was his shower water warm or cool? Did he have tattoos elsewhere? What did the soap look like running down his chest and down his legs..?

Okay, you need to go to bed. Sleep would do the trick. Right?

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Wrong. Sleep 100% didn't do the trick. Two full days of almost nothing but sleep and this man has been filling your head with thought of him, some more naughty than other. He had crawled into your dreams, your thoughts, and your daily life in general. You cant even pour creamer into your coffee without seeing his smug ass face in your mug.

It was now the weekend, around 7pm on a Saturday. The sun had already gone down and you were sitting in your living room, a random cheesy rom com on the television as you scrolled on your phone. You scrolled through your feed, seeing videos of your college friends out partying, drinking, and having fun. Then there was you, sitting at home with day old mascara on your lashes and sleep evident on your face.

There was a heavy knock on your door, with a raised brow you hop up from your couch and make your way over to the door, peaking through the peep hole to see who it was. And to your surprise, it was exactly who you were thinking of.

There Simon stood, a bottle of champagne and a single red rose in his hands as he bounces on his heels, he was back to his regular shaggy look, unkempt hair, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and his silver dog tag hanging from his neck.

Quickly, you open the door with a smile and invite the man in. As he walks in towards your kitchen counter you quickly become aware of your appearance. Old makeup on your face, and crinkled clothes that you couldn't be bothered to iron.

However, at this point the two of you have seen each other at your worst, hell you've seen Simon running off of two hours of sleep with a sick little Oliver who wouldn't stop crying and coughing.

"Champagne and a rose? This feels like a date to me.." You tease running a hand across his shoulder as you pass him, earning a shiver from the man. you stand on the opposite side of the kitchen island as he takes a seat on one of the barstool chairs you have, sliding the bottle towards you.

"Take it however you want love." He laughs, running his fingers through his hair, pushing it out of his face, his bicep flexing in the process, and holy fuck.

You shake your head and pop open the bottle of champagne. "I'm glad I know you and Oliver, he's a good kid."

"You're such a big help with the little guy, I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. He loves you a lot." Simon is more soft spoken than usual as he twirls the rose between his fingertips.

You're frantically searching your cabinets for those champagne glasses you got all those years ago but have never used. You swear you still had them.

"It's no biggy. He's a joy to have around and probably one of my only friends!" You laugh, sighing after you cant find those dumbass champagne glasses and grabbing two mugs out of the cabinet instead. Not quite what you'd normally drink something like champagne out of, but it would have to work.

"So I'm not considered a friend? I see how it is," Simon fakes a hurt expression as he takes a mug from you with a raised brow. His shoulders shake in silent laughter after he looks at the mug to which it read "Male Tears" in big black lettering.

You laugh along with him, "Eh, I kinda like your son more than you, he's less broody," You tease, pouring the champagne into each of your mugs. Your mug saying "Reading is Sexy" with blue lettering.

There the two of you sat, at your kitchen island drinking cheap champagne out of coffee mugs with a single red rose placed between the two of you.

-

After a few hours and an entire bottle of champagne, the two of you sat on your couch together, a movie on your tv.

You sat with your legs draped across Simons lap, his hand resting on your knee as his fingers gently rubbed circles into your skin. It tickled, but in a good way.

You fought sleep, your eyelids slowly shutting and reopening. Your breath was calm and slow, a comfortable silence had fallen between the two of you.

"Gettin' sleepy love?" Simon asks with a chuckle, his deep blue eyes lingering on you as he rubs up and down the length of your leg.

You don't bother answering verbally, you don't have the energy. You shake your head in a quiet and small 'no', your hand coming up to rub your eyes. What time was it? It couldn't be that late.

With a groan, you sit up and grab your phone off of the coffee table, tapping your screen a few times for it to turn on. Your screen nearly blinds you, a curse falling from you lips as Simon merely chuckles next to you. 11:57. Almost midnight already? You thought, there's no way.

Simon peaks over your shoulder and shakes his head, running his hands over his face with a yawn. "Surely I haven't been here all that long, it's definitely past our bedtimes," he teases as he moves your legs off of his, standing from the couch with a stretch, his shirt lifting, showing off a fucking happy trail. This man was too hot for his own good. It had to be a crime at this point.

You stand next to him, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you yawn, making your way lazily towards the direction of your bedroom.

"I better get ta' goin'-" Simon begins, before you cut him off.

"Oh please, theres no way in hell you came over here just to hang out as friends, Simon." Your voice is low as you stand before him, your bodies mere inches apart as you stare up at him. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, and those god damn dimples shining through as he smirks down at you. You fuckin' knew it.

His arms wrap around your waist, his face nearing yours as he walks you backwards into your kitchen, your hips hitting the kitchen island. "I've been caught."

His breath smelling of cheap champagne and cigarettes as his lips grazed yours. His lips are soft as he finally kisses you, fitting perfectly against yours.

Simons hands remove themselves from your waist, landing on the kitchen island, trapping you between him and the counter. You deepen the kiss, standing on your tippy toes to match his force, earning an audible groan from the blonde man in front of you.

When the kiss ends, nothing but heavy panting and quiet curses fill the air. "Fuckin' hell love.." he whispers against your neck, his lips leaving a trail of kisses up and down your warm skin.

Quiet whimpers leave your lips as his lips work their way up to your ear, where he whispers a phrase that makes your knees want to buckle. "Get on the fuckin' counter doll, I've waited far to long for this and my tongue is tingling for your taste.."

Obviously, you do as he says, hopping up onto the cool granite. "Atta girl," he says, his voice raspy as he tugs the waistband of your pants down, pulling them off your legs as if he's been craving you for years. Maybe he has been..

In a swift motion he pushed you onto your back, earning a quiet yelp from you as your back touched the cold surface. With his eyes glued on your panties and his hands on your plush thighs you can't help but whimper, letting your head fall back onto the counter top.

"Fuckin hell lovie, you're already so wet..." Simon says through gritted teeth, the pad of this thumb rubbing slow circles against your clit, the feeling of the pressure over the fabric of your panties was enough for you to clench around nothing.

"Simon please-" you whimper, your hips rolling against his touch, eager for more. This draws a chuckle from the man in front of you, he pulls his hand away with a smug smirk on his lips.

Not another word is shared between the two of you before Simon is kneeled on the tile flooring and he has your legs over his shoulders, his face at perfect height with your core. He pulls your panties to the side, groaning at the sight before him. He was so fucking hard right now, straining against the zipper of his pants.

He blows a cool puff of air against your cunt, watching as it flutters before it, his smirk never falters as he runs his thumb over your cunt, coving his finger in your juices.

"Riley I swear to the gods, if you don't stop playing with your food-" you begin, getting cut off with his tongue against your slit and his thumb rubbing circles against your sensitive bundle of nerves. His tongue works in and out of you, flicking and sucking, the noises that fill the kitchen are positively hypnotic. Your whimpers and moans mixed with the wet noises of Simons tongue between your legs. And to top it off, every time you buck your hips against his face he moans, a low growl like noise that makes you absolutely drip.

Simon is only using one hand to hold open your legs, his right hand has traveled down to his pants, unzipping his jeans and finally giving himself that oh so needed friction that he's been deprived of. His tongue goes flat against your cunt, his head shaking side to side, flicking his tongue every so often, just enough to catch the tip of your clit.

He palms himself through his boxers, rutting into the palm of his hand. "You like that baby? You're gettin' louder.." he teases as he sucks on your clit, causing your back to arch off of the counter top and your hands to fly to his hair, tugging on the blonde strands, pressing his face into your greedy little cunt even more.

"Simon! Right fucking there, please please please..." You moan, your thighs threatening to close around his head as your legs shake with pleasure. Your breath is quick and your moans are loud as Simon god damn Riley holds your legs open, sucking and licking your clit, you were about to fall apart right then and there, but after he shoves two fingers into your cunt you absolutely crumble.

The orgasm rushes throughout your body, your grip on his hair tight. He doesn't stop though, his tongue stays glued to your clit, his fingers moving at a pace that makes your writhe, drawing out this heavenly orgasm as long as he can.

You're already fucked out as he pulls his fingers out of you, kissing your fluttering cunt, kissing up your torso and tugging your shirt over your head to kiss all the way up your lips. This kiss was everything passionate, the taste of you still lingering on his lips.

Your eyelids are heavy and your chest rises with a quick pace, still trying to come down from your high. Sweat glitters your skin, your panties hanging from your ankle and your mascara running down your cheeks. "So beautiful, so fucking gorgeous baby.." Simon whispers as he kissed you on the forehead, running his hands over your cheeks. "But we're not done yet, no no no, this night isn't over until I fill you up so full that Oliver will have a fucking sibling by tomorrow.." His voice is deep and sultry, pulling you up off the counter by your wrists and tossing you over his shoulder like a damn sack of potatoes.

With a yelp from you, Simon gives a little smacks to your ass. His quick strides make it to your bedroom in no time at all. He tossed you on the bed, you landing on your back, your toes bouncing along with the mattress, earning a low curse from the man in front of you. He stands at the end of your bed, quickly pulling his pants and boxers off of himself. He can't go another fucking second without being inside of you.

The image of this man crawling on top of you, his ink covered arms on either side of your head and your legs on either side of your hips as he pressed against you. It was all so much, your cunt was dripping, and from what you could see so was the tip of his cock.

Holy shit his cock, it was huge, veins running up and down the length of it. You figured he was from the start, but now that it's in front of you, how the hell will it all fit?

His hands reach for your thighs, pushing them up so your knees neared your ears, the tip of his cock teases the entrance of your cunt, the bead of pre-cum smearing all over your clit. You wiggle your hips, eager for something, anything but this fucking torturous teasing that this man seems so obsessed with.

"Simon.." You moan, earning a groan from the man. His eyes have not left you this entire time, his gaze wandering up and down your figure with a look of biting desire.

"Moaning my name like that..fuck," He groans through gritted teeth, pressing the tip of his cock inside, fucking finally.

You suck in a breath through your teeth, biting down on your bottom lip as you grip the sheets.

Simons eyes shut with pleasure as he pushes into you. Only to open once again to watch your face, watching for any looks of displeasure, he makes it about half way when your eyebrows furrow and your hand flies to his torso, pressing against his abdomen as a way to tell him to stop for a second.

"It's okay lovie, breath, you're taking me so well.." He whispers, leaning down to kiss your cheek, kissing away a single stray tear that had seemingly rolled down your cheek. Slowly, he continues to push into you, the two of you share a mutual moan as he finally bottoms out, his stomach pressed flush against your clit.

"Good girl, my good girl baby, yes.." He moans, his hands under your knees as he holds one leg over his shoulder and the other off the the side.

Your whimpers, his groans, and the smell of sex fills the bedroom. You rock your hips, indicating the need for friction. With pleasure, Simon gives you what you needs, rolling his hips and pulling out about half way before slamming back inside you. Your loud moans and pleases for more, more, more fill the room, causing Simon to let out a guttural groan, hai cock twitching inside of you.

Simon shifted his hips, dragging his cock out of you. It glistened with your arousal, and it made his face grow hot. He bit back a whimper when he pushed inside you once more. You gasped, and he did it again. Again and again until he had a set a rhythm that had your entire body on fire, writhing against the mattress.

"Yes yes, fuck Simon, makin' m' feel so good, I-" You whimper, your legs shaking and your eyes squeezed shut out of pure pleasure.

Simon had reached a hand down and was now rubbing circles on your clit. Your words had his brain swimming, his thrusts deepening and pace quickening. The tight ball of pleasure was drawing tighter and tighter in the base of your tummy, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

"Fuck baby, you feel so good..wanna put a fuckin baby in you lovie..." His voice is low, his groans turning into whimpers as his thrusts become sloppy, he's nearing his own climax. Your own peak is nearing, your cunt fluttering around his cock, clenching and squeezing as he moves at a pace that is absolutely intoxicating.

"Come for me, baby," he whispered. "Come on my cock. That's it, baby, yeah– good fuckin' girl."

His finger moves quickly against your clit, rubbing as his cock bullies in and out of your greedy little cunt. The force of his thrusts make your tits bounce, earning deep and needy groans from the back of Simons throat.

You came around his cock with a sob of his name, your cunt squeezing him tight as the ball of pressure snapped in your tummy. Your orgasm was hard, slamming over you and rendering you breathless, your head floating. Your clit pulsed beneath the movements of his fingers.

The tightness of your cunt earned a fucked out moan from Simon as he slams in and out of you, reaching even deeper than before. You wanted to scream. He was so deep. You were so full.

"Such a good girl, suck a greedy little cunt— so tight I don't think I'll be able to pull out-, yes baby.." He blabbered helplessly as he becomes utterly pussydrunk, his head lolling back and his eyes closing with pleasure.

"M'gonna come in this tight cunt," Si whispered, almost too quiet for you to hear. He spoke louder when he continued his sentence. "You want my cum, baby? You want me to come inside you? Want me to fill you up, fill this pretty tummy?"

"Yes! Please—!" You practically scream.

"I will— I'll fill you up with all of my fuckin' cum.." He moans, his thrusts sloppy and his grip on your thighs bruising. "Take it all like a good girl," he moaned. "Get you–fuck —get you pregnant. Fill you up with my kids. I'd look after you, baby."

You were basically screaming.

And with that Simon cums, your name falling from his lips as the white hot liquid spills from his cock into you. He doesn't pull out, tugging you up so that you straddled his hips, his hands on your as as he holds you up, him leaning back against the heels of his feet. The two of you share a tender kiss, his lips softly kissing your lips, cheeks, and neck.

"Fuckin' hell love.." He laughs, his voice raspy. He finally pulls out, a deep groan slipping from his lips as he watches his cum drip out of that sweet little cunt. Carefully, he lays you back down on the mattress, staring down at you with low eyes and a small smile on his lips.

"You were so good just now, you know that? So beautiful, so fuckin' hot-" He moves so he's laid beside you, his chest pressed against your back as he rubs small circles on your hip with his finger. "-I loved your moans, and the feeling of your pussy..just stay like this with me for a second, yeah?" His hand runs up and down your side, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as his breath tickles the back of your neck.

What an odd feeling. It all felt as if everything had always been like this. As if the two of you were meant to be, and this was all just natural.

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Simon and You sit in your living room together, his hand on your thigh and Oliver running back and forth with a superman action figure in hand making a 'swooshhh' sound with his mouth.

The promise ring on your finger sparkles as you look down at it, you can't take your eyes off the damn thing. It's been a week since he's given it to you, but every time you eye catches the little piece of jewelry you can't help but stare.

Three years of crushing and helping him raise his kid. One night of his name being moaned and orgasm after orgasm. Two weeks form that night he asked you out. It's been four months since he asked you to be his girlfriend. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly. But not, at the same time. It feels like you've know each other forever so it was natural. Nothing odd about falling in love so quickly.

Or maybe the love has always been there, it was the commitment and the confessions and the confusing mixed signals that were messing with the process.

But in the end everything had fallen in place. Simon still lives next door, but that is gonna change soon. He spends more and more time over at your place than his own. Both his and Oliver's clothes litter your laundry, and instead of one lonely toothbrush in the bathroom, there's now three.

Pink, Blue, and a tiny red one for Oliver.

This was how it was meant to be. Simon, Oliver, and you. And possibly another one. Simon is pretty eager for that addition. Now that was a little fast even for you.

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a/n: not to singledad!simon anymore. <33

p.s.- i tagged everyone who i saw asked to be, sorry if i missed ya! and thank you all so so much for all the love. i love all of ya so so much! <33

[ohnonotthehorrors]

Etho… maybe shouldn’t have been as shocked as he is.

Messing with time, dragging people from all different worlds. Surely something would be… tipped a bit too far. Skewed too much.

It didn’t help that the universe is run so strongly on belief. On acting the part.

(Etho has been around a very long time. He knows how the world works. Likes to think he can control and mold a good portion of it too. So he knows that the main rule of the universe is that if you act like something is true, it’ll end up true.

Nothing is as powerful as spoken words)

So no, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised at the… scrambled ages of his friends. He himself feels… different. Like there’s a shake settling in to his hands that hadn’t been there before. White hairs that are more silver than snow.

It hadn’t even been entirely noticeable at first.

Sure Grian had been a few inches shorter- but he was a short man! And maybe his voice was a bit louder and more annoying, but well… it’s Grian. Later when they’re in the nether and Grian has a sword in his hands Etho will notice the baby fat clinging to his cheeks and wonder…

And maybe Tango kept growing and shrinking depending on which room he was in- but Tango is weird. Weirder still with his new Decked Out project. And alright, maybe Skizz looks a tad older and Impulse has a new workout routine that shaved a few years off.

But that shouldn’t have been SO weird right?

Wrong.

So wrong. It just isn’t until Etho stumbles across the Choppers (Flockers? Talkers?), that he has to stop lying to himself.

Staring up at him is a face he knows. Or should know at least.

Because those are Bdub’s eyes, Bdub’s smile. His best friend’s voice- but higher pitched and impossibly squeakier. The face is round and squishy and the kid’s fingers are stubby, and those same eyes are wider and brighter and- and that’s not Etho’s Bdubs.

That’s a kid. A baby really.

Barely in his preteens, if that. Cleo laughs at the face Etho must be making and then glares at him- what for he isn’t sure. “Don’t treat him differently?” “Don’t treat him the same?” Maybe just, “die before I kill you.”

Whatever it is he’s fully intending to listen- not the least because he’s pretty sure Cleo is the only one his age. (There’s streaks of grey peppered along her red strands).

He turns down the offer of being their father (and isn’t THAT just such a- a thing to think) and goes on his merry cow finding way. Of course that’s not the end of it.

Etho pauses half way through eating a truly uncomfortable family dinner to wonder how the fuck he ended up here. His partner ex-something friend son, is not helpful

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

A Million Lives

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

Did he feel apprehension? 

Well, no.

Honestly he was beginning to wonder if he had some sort of identifiable medical condition that repressed his ability to feel fear. Then again, that wasn’t exactly true, he had felt fear before at least twice that he could think of. Once when he had almost died in an ice storm on an alien planet, and another time when he had almost lost his throne and his life to an adrenaline addiction, a fact that he was still deeply embarrassed about to this day. Other than those instances, however, he couldn't think of any other examples.

Still the looks of pity being passed to him by his escort did not go unnoticed.

A billion years?

Would this really be so bad? Had he truly gotten himself into something he couldn’t handle. 

He hoped not.

Maybe one of these days his bravado would come back to bite him in the ass. Maybe today was that day. The guards walked him briskly forward stepping sharply onto an elevator that had no buttons or dials. Symbols appeared in the air at the center of the elevator car along with a cool female voice.

“Seventh Ring.”

“You know, Ted Budy, Hitler, Mornix, and Geeanan are all on the seventh level too.”

“Mornix, huh.” Celex said as they began to move downward, “My great great great great great grandmother.”

“So psychopathy runs in the family I see.”

Celex shrugged, “I’m not a psychopath.”

The guards exchanged a look, “Really?”

He shook his head, “No, I care about those people back on the Empyrean, they’re my friends. I worry about them and I want them to succeed in battle.”

One of the guards snorted, “Or you see them as your property. Are you even capable of remorse, fear, sadness?” The question was accusatory, and the guard had clearly already made up his mind, so Celex don't stoop to answering the question. Didn’t stop him from thinking back to the incredible hurt he had felt when his primary wife betrayed him and set up her coup, the well of anger and sadness that had driven him, in a moment of rage, to destroy a planet just to get back at her.

No one should have that kind of paper, he was sure of that now.

And when that memory was gone he thought of the addiction and the fear that came with it.

Almost losing his life.

And finally, after his death, when he and Kelly had moldered together in darkness. He remembered the friendship they had established there held in each other’s arms to stave off the horror of the blackness. 

Had he shed a tear when they escaped?

Maybe 

Only he and Kelly would ever know the answer to that question.

The door dinged open, and they stepped out into the hallway, cool and grey and lined with prison doors. Didn’t look too intimidating, but it was really what was behind those doors that mattered.

The walk down the hall was a short one, turning towards the second or third door which opened with a soft hiss. The room inside was bright  white, forcing him to raise his hands and squint. When they finally adjusted he found himself looking in on a small, sparse room, white padded walls, a small cot in one corner, a sink, but no mirror, and at the center of the room, a chair.

Looked sort of like those chairs you'd find in a human dentists office,, or an electric chair you would find in a prison.

And with that chair, stood a beautiful woman.

She was tall,

Muscular 

Elegant.

And had a mane of technicolor hair, whose pattern he would have recognized anywhere, “Avix.” He snarled.

Ex Emperor Celex’s ex wife sneered in return, “You have no idea how much I am going to enjoy this.” Celex tried to dig in his heels, but the guards shoved him forward, unfortunately within Avix’s reach. She did not waste time, reaching out with one hand and grabbing him by the jaw, nails digging into either of his cheeks as she pulled him closer.

She squeezed hard, but he refused to make a sud glaring up at her with contempt.

“Don’t try to fight.” She said softly as the two guards retreated from the room, “WHile you are here, you are entirely within my power.” She made that fact clear a moment later with a little demonstration. A wave of ice washed through him, and before he truly understood what was happening, his body began to shrink arms receding, body morphing, until he dangled from her hand by his fur, feet dangling down and kicking helplessly as she held him.

She laughed as she watched him struggle, “I get now why the humans think we are so cute, tiny…. Helpless.”

He swung a foot at her, but that didn’t really do any good.

She let him struggle for a while, a lazy smile playing across her face, “As much as I am enjoying this moment the chair fits you better the other way. The cold ice receded from his body, and before he knew it he was back to his chosen form. She still held him by the hair, her fingers tangled through his roots, pulling at his scalp forcing him to bend over and twist.

She was enjoying this 

Having him in her power.

“Now I ghetto make you pay, for what you did to me.”

Celex snarled, “What I did to you I don’t regret, traitor.” her hand gripped harder but he didn’t stomp, “How was the ninth ring? Cozy I hope.”

She twisted even harder, bringing him to one knee, “You will not speak to me like that, not here.”

“Don’t go playing the victim card. You and I both know you were a power hungry bitch.” He tried tilting his head up to look at her, “But we both know I like that in a woman.” She gritted her teeth at him, “Should have known you were going to stab me in the back, after everything we had been through together.”

She laughed, “Please you had other wives to amuse yourself with, I was nothing important to you.”

He snorted, “The infidelity card only works when your species is monogamous, and you and I both know you had your own “amusement as it were”. As for being important to me, you were. I thought we had something, a similar goal.”

“And that is where you were stupid. I didn’t want to be your companion, I wanted to be emperor.”

“Should have been better then.”

She snarled, shivering him forward and into the chair.

He tried to turn but before he knew it she was already strapping one of his hands into place, 

“I am told, when the Makers designed the Celzex construct, it had the unique issue of causing something they referred to as rage bleed. In layman's terms it means that the celex construct was bad at containing the side of a soul that controlled rage. Construct biologists believe that’s why we were such a callous and warlike race, more so than the Drev or the humans.”

“There a point to this/” Celex grumbled.

“Yes,” She strapped his foot into place, before leaning forward over him. Her hands searched for the buckles over his chest, “It means, I am disappointed to see the true you, weak, unambitious.”

That stung, but he didn’t show her that.

“You’re just jealous I have people that actually like me.”

She laughed, “Your need for validation is amusing to me.”

She stepped behind him, slotting a small half circlet onto his head to rest against his temples, “This device is designed to channel memories and emotions into your brain.” She laughed, “I had to get the newest model in order to calibrate it to your request. The amount of information I will be forced to funnel into your mind is…. Well it definitely leans on the side of cruel and unusual, but you insisted, and I wouldn’t want to disappoint you.” She tapped the side of the device, “With this you will be able to feel and experience the lives of others as if they were your own simultaneously. At such a high rate of flow, this will probably tear your soul into little quivering pieces.” She grinned, “I look forward to watching the show.”

And then she pressed the button.

Celex could not have described in words what happened next, because no words could ever convey the sheer amount of pain and terror that followed. The fear of one, manageable, easy, but the fear of a couple billion stacked on top of each other all at once.

Incredible.

Unfathomable.

Terrible.

Over and over again, he felt the ground shake, the sky turn red. Violent death after violent death plagued him as the planet was ripped apart, billions trillions dying in a matter of seconds, but living just long enough to understand the apocalypse he had brought upon them. His very soul screamed, churned and attempted to escape as it was racked with a billion lives second after agonizing second. Celex had rarely experienced fear, but in that moment, he understood fear more deeply than any creature had ever truly understood because he felt it through the experiences of others.

And finally he realized.

He had never known fear, not in his life, not truly.

And when he thought it would be over, still it came in a torrent, racing through his mind and ripping him apart piece by piece. He couldn’t have screamed even if he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t find his mouth, and the screams of the dying weren’t enough to express the agony of fear and pain that followed.

The children’s fear was the worst, because it came with confusion, and the inability to understand what was happening. All he knew was that the end was coming.

How can one describe the feeling?

He was a glass, and the ocean had been poured into him all at once.

He was the singularity of a black hole, the center of a collapsing universe, an impossibly small point of mass with matter collapsing in around it.

He could not hold the memories, the cumulative experiences that in themselves added up to hundreds of thousands of years of experience, over and over and over again, his soul rubbed raw on sandpaper until there was nothing but a bloody smear left, infinite pain and suffering that seemed it would never end, go on to eternity until the very universe decayed away.

He could have been there for an eternity and he wouldn’t have known the difference.

He didn’t expect it to end.

But was surprised when it finally did.

All at once the pain was gone, and its sheer absence was a relief so incredible, it too could not have been described in words. Light filled his eyes, and for once he was not alone. The room above him was white, the walls around him white. He barely recognized the place, as a distant memory behind a wall of suffering and pain which was so poignant it was hard to see past.

Had he known this place.

He turned his head, looking up into the face of a woman who was barely familiar.

Her eyes were wide.

It was, hard to remember who she was, or where he was, but as the pain trickled slowly away he began to recognize things. She looked….scared, awed maybe, he couldn’t tell, but the pain was gone, evaporated, and behind it left a gaping chasm in his mind where he was unable to process what had occurred.

But still it was gone

Hot tears rolled down his face.

But with them came something else, a certain sense of urgency. He had to…. Help…. Someone?

He pulled at his bonds, “Let me go.:

The words felt foreign on his tongue, but the woman obliged, and it was to his surprise that he recognized her…. He had felt her. And then it came back to him, Avix, and with that realization followed other memoires, ones that were recent to his body if not his mind.

He was here to be punished

That was once his wife.

And there were others waiting for his help to save the universe.

He stumbled to his feet.

She stepped back.

He leaned heavily against the wall, feeling as if his very mind was bleeding, hemorrhaging like a civ, but then he began to laugh. She seemed quite unsettled, and as his laughter continued, two guards burst into the room, freezing in place and backing up as he straightened to his feet, familiarizing himself with the memories of the past few years, before the chasm in his head.

The tears did not stop, not even a little, but still the people who looked on him seemed unsettled 

Terrified.

He knew now

He shouldn’t have come out of that being able to think, remembering who he was at all, But…. he did.

And he knew who he was, and he knew what he had done..

But now…. He had paid for it.

And that made him very dangerous.

He stumbled past the guards and out into the hall, leading himself away, past everyone  who stepped back in shock and confusion, not daring to go near him. The more steps he took, the steadier he became slowly knitting the chasm in his head back together.

Remembering

Until he could almost pretend a thousand years had not gone through his head.

He stepped out into the docking bay watching the faces frozen in shock around him.

He was not supposed to have survived in tact.

Yet here he was, on his feet.

And ready to Kick apollyon’s ass. 

[daidonzo]

Chapter 30 - I want everything with you [Chishiya x Reader] [Last chapter]

You bit your lower lip, staring at your phone. You had written the same message about a million different times, but none of them had been good enough. Interesting enough.

hi! i was wondering if maybe you want to hang out tonight? but not like usual, maybe a date?

Stupid, ridiculous.

hi! i was around your place and…

No. What were you, a stalker?

You hit your forehead with the palm of your hand. Why was it so difficult?

Kuina had said that he was interested in you, that it was obvious.

But you never knew when it came to Chishiya.

You had been seeing each other for a few weeks, ever since you got released from the hospital. Actually, even before that, because he had once brought you blueberries (how did he know they were your favorite? Had he seen your father doing the same thing before he and your mum had to go back to your home country?) and kept you company, after you texted him how angry you were that Kuina was already free to go and you had to stay a couple of days longer.

He was nice, attentive. He remembered everything you told him. He always wanted to know your thoughts about well, practically everything. He never interrupted you when you went deep into one of your constant monologues.

But he was also secretive, and mysterious. You knew nothing about the guy! And he always looked at you with that smirk of his, as if he knew something funny that you didn't. It gave you an uneasy feeling. It also made you feel killer wasps on your stomach - the fluttering of butterfly wings got nowhere near.

Just as you were about to start writing again, a notification popped up.

Chishiya.

I miss you.

It was a simple text, but it left your mind empty. A blank page.

Luckily, he was writing again.

Are you free tonight?

You thought about taking your time to reply. Pretend you were not that interested. That desperate. But your fingers were typing something already, the communication brain-limbs, clearly an absolute failure.

hi!!!! yes, i'd love that. want to go somewhere or????

Lame. How lame could a person possibly get? Was there a record? You had beaten it.

I was thinking maybe you could come to my place, have dinner and watch a movie?

YES! cool, cool, cool. 8pm?

Perfect. See you then.

You squealed excitedly, people turning their heads to look at you. You had forgotten you were on the train and should not be making any noise. You leaned forwards so that your face, now red, would be covered by your hair, with the biggest smile on your face.

You had not only secured a date with Chishiya but also were going to see his place.

Your mind was running wild.

Usually, when the two of you would meet it would be either at your house or at some place, like a coffee shop, a restaurant, a park, a cinema… Once or twice you had suggested going to Chishiya's place, but he had said that it was dirty or disorganized or something like that.

Kuina had laughed a lot when you had told her.

"Probably he has the corpses of all of his ex-girlfriends there, like a modern Bluebeard."

"Stop. No. I did not survive a meteorite just to get killed by a beautiful man."

"Just be wary if there's a cellar…"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- You arrived twenty minutes early.

Luckily, Chishiya knew you well by now, and just as you were going to sit by a bench to wait those twenty minutes and then feign surprise about knocking on his door exactly at eight sharp, he sent a text.

You can come up already.

You were smiling at your screen like an idiot.

The smile hadn't yet disappeared when Chishiya opened the door. He looked as handsome as always, with a white hoodie and a grey t-shirt. You found it funny, how he always stuck to the same color palette. It really worked on him.

He had that smirk on him.

You waved at him, awkwardly, all thoughts abandoning your head as if it were a boat on fire.

You didn't hug. You usually just talked and maybe held hands here and there, but that was as far as physical contact went for the two of you.

"You look beautiful."

You were about to pass out.

"Thanks, you too!" You said that way too fast and in bubbly tone, blood already rushing to your face. You entered his house, too busy with your sudden shyness to look around you.

"I brought you this!" You tried to change the subject as quick as you possibly could, giving him a package of strawberries you had bought before coming here. You basically threw it at him. Luckily, he had good reflexes and caught it before it felt to the ground.

He had told you strawberries were his favorite fruit, if he had to choose one.

"Thank you, really. Make yourself at home."

You finally look at the room you were standing in. It was very… Him. It was as if Chishiya had been magically turned into a flat by a very talented wizard.

His house was clean, organized, diaphanous. Every object had its purpose, and nothing looked out of place. Your mouth was wide open. You closed it when you noticed, but the blonde man had already seen it, and was laughing silently.

"You look surprised?"

"It's like… Well, it is very you. I don't know how else to define it."

"I guess it is a compliment?"

You nodded. "I like it very much."

You also liked him very much, but that was not something you felt like saying out loud.

The night went on.

You ordered dinner and sat down to watch the movie, both of you on Chishiya's sofa, close to each other but with enough space between you so that your bodies were not touching.

You extended your hand towards his after the first ten minutes or so had passed.

He didn't move.

You took it as a positive answer, so you intertwined your fingers with his. He caressed the side on your hand with his thumb, his eyes still on the screen.

You smiled, screaming internally.

You couldn't focus on the movie, all your attention being on the tingling feeling of your hands touching.

"Do you have any idea…" Chishiya asked, and you blinked few times, waking up from your daydreaming. "…of what's happening in the movie?"

"Not really." You confessed, knowing no matter what you said, you had been caught. You lowered your eyes, looking at your shoes, finding them very, very interesting.

He turned to face you, the film still playing in the background. He lifted his free hand and placed it at your jaw, turning your face so that you would be looking at each other.

"And what are you thinking about?"

"You." How your hand fit with his. How warm his skin was. His smell.

"Me?"

"Everything you." It was a good summary, in your opinion.

How strange it was, to be in this situation. Not because you didn't like it, but because it felt oddly natural. Felt like it was supposed to happen.

You had never done more than hold hands, but when your lips finally met , it was as if they had done it many times before. As if they knew each other, a weird sense of familiarity. It was not a "Hello, nice to meet you!" but more of a "Hello, I'm so glad you are finally back."

The kiss was short, and sweet, and it twisted your insides and left you yearning for more.

You were not in a rush. You knew they would come.

"Can I stay the night?"

"You can stay as much as you want."

[dc-said-bi-robin-rights]

Rose lets her gaze sweep across the ballroom, her enhanced mind unconsciously identifying and cataloguing those few partygoers she can recognize. The crowd tonight seems… off, somehow. There aren’t nearly enough notable faces as there should be for one of the mayor’s famous formals. The man near the balcony owns the biggest private power plant in the city, and the one standing next to the chocolate fountain is undoubtedly San Francisco’s new superstar police commissioner, but Rose also recognizes several news correspondents, local reporters, and… yeah, no, it’s not just her imagination. There are way too many people affiliated with the press around for an event like this. Everyone here is rich enough to have something to hide, specially the mayor, so why would there be any members of the press around at all?

Biting her lip, Rose looks both ways to check if anyone is watching her before pressing the microphone on the hem of her dress and lowering her voice to a murmur. “Press.”

”I noticed,” comes the reply from the mysterious Oracle, who had oh so generously offered to play quarterback for this mission when Tim had asked. Rose still couldn’t resist rolling her eye whenever she thought about it. “Go find Tim. And Ravager?” she adds when Rose straightens up against the wall. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

”Oh yeah?” Rose’s voice is thick with sarcasm. “And what would that be, huh?”

There’s no reply. Rose isn’t sure if that’s a good or a bad sign. She doesn’t care either way.

She pushes away from the wall and walks back to the dance floor, weaving through crowds of over-glamorized high society ladies and rich white men in rich white suits to flag down an unassuming young waiter. When the man turns to look at her, she purposefully stumbles into him, giggling drunkenly, a move she had once used with Dick. The man, surprised, catches her by the shoulders and rights her, and Rose puts a hand on his chest and leans in to whisper in his ear.

”Hey, big boy,” Rose murmurs loudly and huskily, then lowers her voice. “Too much press around.”

”I noticed,” Tim whispers back, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear and smiling lecherously against her neck. “The blonde guy in the leftmost corner was in charge of the guests lists.” Pause. “Where’s Cassie?”

”Occupied,” comes the whispered reply as Rose leans away from Tim, swatting at his chest demurely for good measure before grabbing a wine glass of a different waiter and stalking towards the leftmost corner. Sure enough, a blonde man in a blue suit stands there, watching the room with the airs of private security but without the gear that would usually come with such a job. Ex-military, then. Probably special forces, and too in love with war to ever leave. Like her father. He stood like that all the time.

”I know you have your own agenda here,” Oracle’s voice informs her out of the blue. “I just can’t figure out what it is.”

”That makes two of us,” Rose murmurs, scratching at the hem of her collar and inconspicuously picking up the microphone before dropping it in her wine glass. It fizzles and sparks for a moment but dies too quickly for anyone to notice. Rose does the same with the camera in her eyepatch without slowing her pace and then reaches for her earpiece.

“Whatever you think you’re doing, the team will understand if you come clean now,” Oracle says urgently, but Rose ignores her and drops the earpiece into the wine. It dies just as quickly as the microphone had. Rose takes a sip of the wine, hides behind a pillar, and throws it in an arc at the blonde man in the corner.

The glass hits the man in the back of the head and breaks, scattering glass everywhere and sending him to the ground in a pool of blood. Someone screams, then many someones. On-site medics run into the ballroom, followed by men in grey security uniforms. Rose watches all this with a satisfied smirk on her face, waiting until the man is taken away to the mansion’s infirmary to come out from behind the pillar and start following the medics from a safe distance.

”You can’t be here,” a nurse tells her when she walks into the infirmary, more annoyed than suspicious thanks to her unsteady gait and drunken swaying. “There’s been an incident, and-”

Rose’s fist shoots out, knocking the nurse’s head back in a shower of blood and bringing her crashing down to the floor, as unconscious as unconscious can be. Rose strips the nurse and puts on her uniform and cap, then takes off her eyepatch and peels off the layer of cloudy grey film covering her newly-fitted glass eye. No one in the team knew she’d had a glass eye made, which means that no one will see her leaving if it comes to that.

Her disguise in place, Rose walks up to the bed and shakes the man on it back to the waking world.

”Wha-nu-” the man babbles, before stilling as Rose presses the blade of her knife to his throat.

”There is a woman going by the name of Xia Worth on the guest list for tonight,” Rose snarls, pulling the man’s head back by the hair with her free hand and nicking the edge of the man’s neck. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about her.”

Part 1: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47358040/chapters/119333437

[procrazedfan]

Uh oh! The power is out in your OC's place of residence.

-What do they do to pass the time? Are any of their hobbies applicable without power?

Poppy groaned in frustration when the lights flickered out. Great. No power. She looked out the window to see Mordhaus, a tiny dark speck in the snow on a distant hill. They had no light, either. It could be a weather thing. Or the band and some of her ex coworkers did something to fuck up the power grid. Her money was on the fuckup. She could already imagine a body was involved somewhere. She walked down the hall and checked her brother's room. He was idly plucking the strings of his guitar with lightning quick finger work. The white 'dog' was curled up at the foot of his bed. For once, the dog being on the bed might be useful for warmth. Especially if the power was going to be out overnight.

"You good, Little Bro?" She asked.

"Yeah."

"The power might be out for a while. Could be the entire grid. It's out in Mordhaus too."

"I'm used to blackouts. Lived in California, remember?"

"But you are not used to them in winter." She sat on the edge of his bed and pulled a nearby blanket to cover him up. "You will freeze to death before you leave for tour."

Lucius places the guitar on the stand next to his bed before patting the bed, gesturing for Sköll to move closer to him. Poppy looks less uneasy this time before kicking off her shoes and crawling onto the bed. She tossed the blanket on top of them both before pulling him into her arms from behind. "We are going to miss you so much."

The teenager chuckled and said, "Not another one of your tricks or half truths?"

"Shut up. You keep your own secrets, you brat." She teased right back, ruffling his hair.

"Hey!" he objected, half heartedly batting her away.

He may have grown in some ways, but in others, he was still a child. There are things about this world he should never have known about, and she intended to preserve what was left of his youthful innocence for as long as possible. However she could.

"Just let me hold you." She murmured before wrapping her arms around him.

She hated that he was leaving so soon, but it was important. He had a message to send to their shared half siblings and their families. And it would mean stepping into a world of fame and attention that not many people could handle. At least he now had some bandmates and friends he could rely on. And their manager seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. Even if they were all young.

"You know you can always call me, whenever you want, right?"

"I know."

"Even if is 3 in the morning?"

"Pop-"

She turned his face around so he could get a good look at her. "I mean it. If you are bored, ashamed, or scared, or feel as if no one in the world will hear you, I will always listen. There is nothing you could do to make me not love you, Little Bro. I mean it."

He sighed and buried his head in her shoulder. "I know. Will you promise to take care of Sköll? "

"I will spoil him like I spoil you." She promised, giving him a light squeeze. "And when you get back, I will drown you in so many hugs and kisses that you will not know what to do with them."

"Sis..." He whines in typical red faced teenage embarrassment.

"You may be old and grey and even be a king one day, but you will always be my baby brother," she teased fondly before catching his yawn.

She pulled him closer and fluttered her eyes closed.

"Go to sleep, lillebror. Between me and your dog, you should be warm through winter." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

They held each other like this as they slept through the night. Even after the power returned a few hours later.

[detonatethegemapples]

You should spill the beans about your Magolor and how his hair and veins start changing when he gets the crown 👀

Ohhhh thank you anon!!

So the way I see it, and I guess it was confirmed in deluxe, the crown is a parasite, and Magolor is the host. The longer he keeps it on, the more he's drained. Since I love his EX colour scheme (and I adore drawing white hair), here's my excuse for having it be in his story..

His hair starts to go white first, the crown drains the pigment. Magolor blames it on stress of course.. ruling everything is hard work. People didn't really think much of this change- they think it's either a stylistic choice, or he's just aging/ going grey early.

Then his finger tips turn a deep red (which eventually turn into that dark blue/green Magolor Soul is). Magolor always wears gloves, but now he was even more careful about showing his bare hands around people. He kind of just ignores this too, when he takes off his gloves, he never looks at his hands. Until he catches them in the mirror and sees this dark red crawling up his veins. Again, Magolor is always super covered up, so he isn't concerned about other people seeing all of this.

Until!

It spreads to his neck and face.. the only bit of his skin that's visible. He doesn't notice this, he had stopped looking at himself in the mirror at this point. A few people ask if he's unwell, that's when he decides to take a look for himself, and, well, he's horrified. It's here when he starts to regret taking the crown, he knows that's what is causing all of this. So, he takes it off, but doesn't get rid of it. Or step down.

He keeps returning to the crown, he keeps wearing it in public. Even though he knows it's damaging him, he feels as though he still needs it.

By now his hair is completely white, his veins are all sorts of creepy looking, and his eyes are this intense pink. If people weren't afraid of him before, they were now. Knowing this only makes him feel good about the situation.

This is why he makes the effort to change the colours of his clothing.. I like to think he had his clothes in the EX colours already, but he just didn't wear them (❁´◡`❁)

So there! All this takes place over a pretty long period of time, it isn't instantaneous. After the crown is gone, he still has the veins and white hair, though as he beings to heal, the veins fade and his hair rows back brown! For a while and then by that point he's probably going to start to go grey naturally (✿◡‿◡)

Thanks so much for the ask!!

[hearts4yawnzzn]

STARBOY // Choi Yeonjun // Pt. 2

It was very early in the morning, the birds were extremely loud, and the sky was colored orange with pink and purple hues.

It was around the time she would go for a run this early in the morning, around 5:53 (😏). But weirdly enough, the girl hasn't slept since yesterday.

She was still in bed, staring at her ceiling. For someone who lives alone, her apartment is extremely big.

After countless minutes of starting she finally sat up from her bed and walked towards the bathroom, she stared at herself in the bathroom mirror.

"Doesn't look like they're getting any better..." her hand reached out to touch the eye bags under her eyes, they don't hurt her, she just thinks they look weird.

A groan left her lips as she turns on the sink and starts splashing her face with water, she turns off the sink and pats her face dry with a towel. She stares at the mirror one last time before putting the towel back and walking back into her room and sitting down in front of her dresser as she grabbed the concealer.

She opens the bottle and puts some under her eye and blends it in, she stares at her face before raising an eyebrow. "Is this enough? Maybe I should put more..." she was conflicted.

In the end she shook her head and grabbed her phone, checking the time, it was almost 5:30. "Shit." She yelled out as she hurriedly opened her closet and took out a pair of grey sweatpants and a white sleeveless shirt, she took out a beige suit as well as a white button up shirt and packs it in a bag to change into when she reaches her office.

She changes into her running outfit and grabs her bag and walks to her door, she puts on her shoes and locks her door, leaving her house.

Eunhui puts her keys in her bag as she starts running her usual route.

It was unusually quiet, normally there would be cats fighting or a random dog following after a fleeing squirrel. She slows her pace as she nears the convenience store.

The girl enters and greets the cashier with a big smile and a bow, he bows back to her as she browses the aisles. "Peach milk... Where are you..."

Her eyes travel up and down as she moves aisle by aisle and fridge by fridge. Eunhui lets out a groan in frustration and walks towards the cashier, "Excuse me-" she immediately pauses as she realizes that some other guy was talking to the cashier.

She couldn't get a good look at his face since she was standing behind him, but he was very tall. The tank top he wore showed off his muscles and tattoos, his hair was slicked back and he was wearing a tank top.

The guy was conversing with the cashier, they weren't arguing, but their tones were very harsh towards each other. "What the fuck do you mean he didn't come in today??" The guy leaned forwards toward the cashier.

"I mean he took a sick day, if you want to see him come back tomorrow." The cashier sighed heavily and glared at the man, "Now get out, I have customers."

Although she couldn't read the guy's face she could tell he wasn't happy with his answer. "At least give me YJ's address, he owes me the money!" the cashier ignored him and looked behind the tattooed male, smiling at Eunhui and gesturing her to come forward.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something, but I wanted to ask if you have the peach milk in stock?" She quickly asked as she stepped forward and ignored the guy beside her.

The cashier gave her a gentle smile, "Oh yeah it's in stock! I just didn't display it." How many do you need?"

She smiled back brightly and gestured a 4 with her hand as the cashier nodded, "Of course, please wait a moment."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" The other male was enraged, he stared at the female beside him and grabbed her shoulder harshly.

"Yah! Let me go asshole!" She yelled back at him, her tones was a little higher than his. "Don't interrupt people's conversations with your bullshit!"

She stared at him in disbelief and opened her mouth to yell back, "What are you doing here? And why are you harassing a lady?" His voice was extremely laid back, the guy let go of her shoulder and glared at the guy walking towards them.

"You actually showed up.. 'Sick day'? who the fuck would believe that YJ?" YJ stayed quiet, not answering him.

Eunhui was confused. "What the fuck is going on..." she mumbled quietly, YJ cleared his throat and stared at her, giving her a gentle smile.

"Don't mind this asshole, sorry he bothered you." she would only stare at his face 'god damn it he's fucking handsome', she immediately shook her head at the sudden thought.

"Ah no worries." she smiled back. 'You just met this guy Eunhui! And you'll probably never see him again! Stop with the dumb thoughts!'

Just when she thought he would never return, the sound of the cashier walking back to the cash register and handing her the milk in a bag, "I'm sorry for the delay! You're total is 8,000 Won!"

She paid him and told him to keep the change as she takes the bag from him, she stares at the tattooed male before her eyes shift to YJ.

Her gaze lingers on his figure for longer than it should have. She snaps out of it when he tilts his head, she smiles and takes her leave.

"God that was so much drama, and this early in the morning?!" She groans, clearly frustrated, and makes her way to the bus stop.

While she waits for her bus she quickly glances at the time. '5:56' her eyes widen, she missed the first bus.

"Ah shit! I'm so fucking late!!"

[f1tyreslightmyfyre]

Karts & Hearts - Pt. IV

A Lestappen Fic loosely based on this prompt

Series Main List

Pt. IV Summary: In which it takes them long enough but here they are.

Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including anal sex); explicit language; idiots in love; fluff and romance

Word Count: 4.3k

Piano music echoes off the walls of his apartment but Charles still hears the ping of his phone. He only pauses after glimpsing the name of the sender. Abandoning the ivory keys, he scrambles to open the message. 

VER: Are you home? 

Charles’ heart thumps against his rib cage. The message’s vagueness gives him immediate cause for concern, and he hopes that Max is alright. After all, it’s past 2100 hrs on a Tuesday night and they don’t just send each other casual messages. Working a swallow down his suddenly dry throat, he types out a response. 

LEC: Yes… but why are you asking?

The response comes nearly just as quick, and something warms in Charles’ chest to think that Max was just waiting for his reply. 

VER: I’m on my way. Stay there 

Charles has to read the message twice to be sure that he didn’t misunderstand. It’s certainly presumptuous and his pride puffs up at the last two words, but he can’t deny his curiosity. 

He wastes no time in notifying the lobby security desk of his soon-to-arrive guest, then glances around his apartment self-consciously. His habits trend towards tidiness, but a toed-off pair of shoes and a discarded hoodie still make it look lived in. As for himself, he’s dressed in grey joggers and a white print t-shirt but he doesn’t feel the need to change. His black, thick-framed glasses give him a moment’s pause, but Max has seen him around the paddock wearing them before. 

The knock at the door breaks his stream of thoughts and his adrenaline peaks. He has no reason to be nervous as he reaches for the door handle but then… the fire blazing in Max’s eyes puts every instinct on high-alert. 

“I’m not interrupting, am I?” Max says by way of greeting, glancing over Charles’ shoulders towards the apartment’s interior. 

“No,” Charles confirms. “At least, nothing that couldn’t be interrupted. … Er, you came all this way, do you want to come in?” He still has no clue about the purpose of Max’s visit but whatever the Dutchman wants is probably best discussed not in the elevator lobby. 

Max steps into the entryway, and the golden light catches on his dark t-shirt and jeans, highlighting his sandy-brown hair like a halo. He looks so good - soft and casual, the warm young man beneath the stone-cold professional racer. Charles catches the fond smile growing across his face as he closes the door. Nibbling his bottom lip to chase the smile away, he shoves a hand in a pocket as he follows Max into the living room. “I don’t know why you’re here,” he starts gently. “But… well, can I get you anything?” 

“You can get me answers.” Max says bluntly as he turns around, leveling Charles with an expectant look. “My boyfriend just broke up with me tonight, and he says you’re to blame.” 

The words slam into Charles, freezing him in place and bypassing all of his defenses. He’s overwhelmed with the sudden urge to offer condolences, to learn if the ex-boyfriend gave Max hell on his way out, to offer Max all the comfort that he needs. But it conflicts with all of his budding desire and relief and hope - if Max had a boyfriend, then why can’t he have Charles as a boyfriend? 

He works a hard swallow down his throat. “I am sorry to hear that.” His voice is more choked than he would like. “Breakups are never easy, no matter the circumstances…” He pauses as his brow furrows. “But I don’t see how I’m to blame…?” 

“You’re always there.” Max gestures as he speaks, and everything about it takes Charles back to the grid, where Max has ‘maxplained’ to him so many times. “Even when we don’t finish together in qualifying or on the podium - you’re not even my teammate and you’re always around. I just… always find you or you find me.” 

Charles isn’t sure if he should laugh but his competitive side kicks in first. “Me? Mate, you're the one who… who…” He doesn’t even know what to say to that. It’s such an absurd accusation, but even now, Charles can feel Max’s phantom touch from all those embraces on the grid and celebratory shoulder slaps. 

“It’s not me,” Max counters with a shake of his head. “If you weren’t always just there, then this wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Charles arches an incredulous brow. “Is that so, hmm? And just what is the problem…?” 

“This,” Max motions between them as if the answer is obvious. “This thing between us.” 

Charles doesn’t hold back the laugh that bubbles up his throat. “Are you drunk?” His heart clenches in his chest as he returns the gesture. “There is nothing between us… or do you have me confused with your ex-boyfriend?” 

“I know who you are, Charles,” Max says, sounding more tired than angry. “But I don’t understand why you… why I can’t seem to get away from you….” 

Charles’ stomach sinks. “Do you… want to get away from me?” 

Max’s vibrato falters, and Charles catches the flash of uncertainty in his eyes. All at once, he wants to cup Max’s cheek and draw him in close to chase away any cloud that threatens to dim those sky blue depths. Instead, he takes a step closer, drawing a suddenly nervous breath. “Max - do you want to get away from me?” He repeats the question as he takes another step closer, searching Max’s face all the while. 

A pink blush tinges Max’s cheeks - just a hint of the lovely shade of exertion that colors his skin after an intense race - and his lip freckle is on full display as he holds his lips in a tight line. His shoulders stiffen with pent-up tension, and he looks like a coiled spring just waiting to snap. 

Charles continues to close the distance, blinking up at Max through long lashes. “If you want to know what I think,” Charles drops his voice as if imparting a secret even though they’re alone. “I don’t think that you would be here now if you really wanted to get away from me. And you can’t blame me for just being around… not when you’re in my home.” 

“I’m only here so we can solve this.” 

A breathy laugh leaves Charles. “You still haven’t said what ‘this’ is.” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” 

Charles’ heart thunders and his chest feels full to bursting. He doesn’t dare to hope that Max actually returns his affections, but God… heat gathers on his skin and he might just die if he doesn’t kiss Max soon. But the Dutchman plays his cards so close, Charles can’t tell if he’s truly so obtuse or just playing his own version of hard to get. Neither of those feel quite right, though - Max isn’t that imperceptive. He never has been. 

The silence stretches between them, and Charles blinks back at him patiently. “Well,” he says with a deliberate tease in his voice. “I’m waiting for you to tell me, mate.” 

The corner of Max’s mouth curls in a snarl. “You… this is the same insufferable bullshit as always.” He shakes his head with a sigh. “You know exactly how you smile at me, how you look at me and touch me.” 

“Me?” Incredulity sounds in Charles’ voice as it lights up his face. “Oh, come on - you’re the one saying that to me? When all season, it’s been you - my boyfriend was so jealous of you!” 

Max’s gaze sharpens. “Your boyfriend? And are you two-” 

“No,” Charles cuts him off. “We broke up just after Austria. He… he didn’t like what he saw.” 

Charles nearly melts as Max’s gaze pierces straight through him and his heart leaps to his throat. Max stands so close now - close enough that Charles can breathe in the day-worn scent of something spicy and woodsy. Heat grows on Charles’ skin, infusing his blood as it pools low in his stomach. 

“And what did he see that he didn’t like?” Max’s voice pitches deeper, speaking to the primal urges of Charles’ being. 

He has no reason to hold back now. “He didn’t like how you nearly drowned me in champagne… or how… how you smile at me like… I’m the only person in the world who matters.” 

Max’s top lip curls as if he wants to demand that Charles recant his statement, but there’s no denying the truth that burns in Max’s eyes. The moment hangs by such a tender thread and it’s now or never. Charles draws a trembling breath, laying his heart bare. “He didn’t like… how I also look at you like there’s no one else in the world. How I smile at you like… you’re the sun to my moon. How I wanted to kiss you on that podi-”

His words die against the firm press of Max’s mouth. Perhaps it is best if they just stop talking with words. Instead, Charles meets Max’s kiss head-on, speaking with the firm glide of his lips and the warm brushes of his tongue. He pours all of his pent-up love and affection into the endless kiss, gasping as they breathe the same air and get each other deep into their lungs - but even that’s not close enough. 

Max’s long fingers find the muscles of Charles’ back, pulling them flush together. Charles’ glasses smudge beyond hope, a moan slipping from his lips as he learns the broad shape of Max’s shoulders and the lean press of Max’s hips. Their bodies slot together as if no other puzzle piece in the universe would ever fit, and Charles goes dizzy from the heady rush of desire. 

He swallows Max’s answering groan as their erections grind together, and all he wants is Max to eat him whole, crack his heart wide open, and permanently ruin him. Their tongues tangle with hot, velvety strokes, and the kiss deepens as he runs his fingers through Max’s lush hair, tugging him ever closer as their chests heave and hips roll together. 

"Bed," Max murmurs against Charles' lips. "Bedroom, Charles. I'm not fucking you anywhere else right now." 

Charles' breath hitches audibly. "God, yes," he breathes, clinging to Max’s strong shoulders. "Want you inside me. Want to be yours."

Max growls into his mouth, nearly tripping them both as Charles steers towards his bedroom. The city’s nightly glow bathes his bedroom through the open curtains, and he falls against the plush bed under Max’s welcome weight. 

He hooks a leg around Max’s waist, leveraging his strength to grind their still-clothed cocks together. A drunken smile teases his face as Max moans against his neck, leaving a trail of kisses and nibbles. Charles tips his head back to grant better access as he indulges in exploring the expansive planes of Max’s back. “It’s unreal how fucking broad you are now,” Charles breathes, voice catching as Max nips beneath the collar of his shirt. “You’ve never looked so good.” 

“You’re one to talk.” Max’s words deform against the soft skin beneath his ear and a shiver ripples down Charles’ spine. “Your hands… should be illegal.” 

Charles groans with pleasure. “And you don’t even -” Charles breaks off with a gasp as Max’s hand suddenly wraps around his thigh and pries his leg free. He finds the hem of Charles’ shirt just as quickly and draws back just enough to pull it free. Charles barely falls back against the bed before the heat of Max’s mouth envelops a sensitive nipple. A whimper pitches in his throat as his fingers relearn the texture of Max’s thick hair. His hips roll against empty air as Max shifts the spread of his legs and - fuck, why are they both still wearing trousers? 

He doesn’t waste another second before tugging at Max’s shirt and trousers until they join the rest of his clothing on the floor. The bared expanse of Max’s skin glows in the faint city light and Charles wants to taste every part of him, to learn what makes him twitch, what makes him giggle, what makes him sigh. But as Max’s long form stretches out against him and bare skin - so much heated, perfect, wonderful skin - meets for the first time, Charles goes blind with wild desire. 

“Want you, Max,” Charles pants against Max’s skin. “Want you, love you, need you - please.” 

“So fucking eager,” Max groans with a hard thrust of his hips as their leaking erections slide together. “You’re so fucking perfect.” 

The praise stokes the fire in Charles’ blood as he mouths along Max’s collarbone. “Top drawer, left side of the bed.” 

Max groans with mild annoyance. “You should have said something earlier - I don’t want to let you go now that I’ve got you.” He punctuates the words with a nip to Charles’ neck that makes him arch up against the furnace of Max’s chest. 

“You’ve still got me,” Charles reassures, gulping down air as Max shifts to open the bedside table drawer. “I’m not going anywhere until you fuck me good.” 

“And I will,” Max groans as a plastic cap snaps open. “Fuck, I want to make you feel so good, Charles.”  

And it’s fucking heaven. The hot, steady slide of Max’s fingers work him open as he lays his soul bare for Max’s ears alone. When they find his white-hot center, building a rhythm to make Charles see stars, he demands everything that Max has to give and gives everything in return. He breathes through the sloppy kiss as Max’s fingers finally slide free and their hips align where Charles wants them most. The blunt pressure of Max spearing him open exhilarates and burns in the best possible way - and the fullness that consumes him threatens his sanity.

Especially as Max rocks back before burying himself deeper as Charles continues to open to him. Max’s groan rumbles against Charles’ skin. “You’re so tight, and so hot.” He punctuates the words with another devastating thrust. “You’re fucking perfect.” 

Pleasure arcs through Charles, electrifying every nerve as Max grazes his deep-rooted pleasure point. He nearly sobs, surrendering his heart, his body - all that he is - as they chase their euphoric pleasure together and never look back. 

Max refuses to think about it. 

Not even as he left a quietly snoring Charles behind and disappeared into the quiet Monegasque morning. Not even as he felt like crawling out of his own skin the longer that he lingered around his own apartment. Not even as he boarded his jet bound for Belgium, flying over an increasingly wintry white landscape as the kilometers passed.

His mother was overjoyed by the surprise visit, of course. And so close to the holidays, too. She welcomed her son with open arms and fortunately doesn’t pry too much into his quiet, pensive mood. But the look of supportive concern in her eyes is ever-present each time their gazes connect. Sometimes, however, time and silence are the answer, and she has yet to push him into a discussion that he doesn’t want.

It suits him, especially since he has no answers. Well, at least… none that he understands. But it isn’t until he’s taken a long, wandering drive out in the countryside and ends up at the one place that maybe he always meant to find. With the navy blue knit beanie over his hair and ears, his Red Bull jacket slathered with sponsor logos help gain him entry to the grounds (in addition to his credentials, of course) but he easily finds the one gate that’s served him so well over the years.

The fresh blanket of snow on the Spa circuit gleams with pristine beauty as it coats the surrounding trees and grandstands. It’s such a stark contrast from the summer racing scene, and the cold breeze whistling through the trees and nipping his cheeks is his only companion as he strolls along the track, leaving his own racing line of footprints in the snow.

“Want you, Max,” Charles pants against Max’s skin. “Want you, love you, need you - please.” 

It shouldn’t be so easy to love Charles. After so many years of… indifference to him, how has Max fallen so hard? But has it really been indifference? Perhaps he just hasn’t let himself be honest with himself.

“Fuck, I want to make you feel so good, Charles.”  

And he still does. In fact, the force of wanting to carve his heart out and give it to Charles scares him. And just how exactly in the ever-living hell that happened in the global circus of their F1 lives, Max doesn’t have the first clue. He also doesn’t know what to do about it, either. Could they really take that step and go out publicly together? Sure, the Red Bull PR team has been prepared for him to come out with a partner eventually, but to come out with a partner who drives for a rival team? But, honestly… Max wouldn’t have it any other way. 

As he strolls with the light crunch of snow beneath his feet, he can’t picture anyone else at his side as those press statements are made. He wants to hold Charles’ hand through it all. He wants Charles’ unfailing self-assurance at his side and for the Monegasque to feel as liberated as he would to finally live as he wants. He wants -

“Was I so bad that you had to run all the way back to Belgium?” 

Charles’ heart-achingly familiar voice slices through Max’s torrent of thoughts and he freezes in place. Has he really been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn’t hear the other man approach? And just what the fuck is Charles doing here? Too many questions jumble in Max’s mind and he slowly turns around. 

Charles stands with a small, awkward smile as he jams his hands in the pockets of his stuffed, puffer cream coat. He resembles a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and the bright red Ferrari beanie on his head is the literal cherry on top. His cheeks flush a delicious shade of pink from the cold wind, and Max is nearly undone with the urge to taste the winter chill on Charles’ lips. 

But he still can’t shake his utter disbelief that Charles is actually standing here with him. He shakes his head as he speaks. “How on earth did you know that I was here?” 

Charles shrugs beneath his large coat. “I’ve found you here before, remember?” Snow crunches softly under his boot as he takes a step forward. “And even then, I listened to you….” An embarrassed smile crosses his face as a blush grows on his cheeks. “Admittedly, it took some luck, but after a couple of texts and a call… and a flight, and now… here you are.” 

Max still doesn’t understand and maybe he doesn’t need to. Charles is so heart-achingly gorgeous in the snowy, grey light of Spa and Max shouldn’t feel so conflicted. It should be so easy to step forward and wrap Charles in a tight embrace and never let go. And yet… 

Charles steps up to his side and takes another step forward, coaxing Max to set a leisurely pace. With a tentative side glance, Charles catches Max’s eye. “I can’t help but wonder,” Charles starts softly. “If I’ve already ruined things with you. Either something I said, or something I did… perhaps we shouldn’t have fallen into bed quite so-” 

“I don’t regret it, Charles.” Max cuts him off, not wanting to hear it. “None of it. Not breaking up with my boyfriend, not sleeping with you, or anything either of us said.” 

The corner of Charles’ mouth lifts. “Me, neither. If anything… I only regret that we didn’t figure it out sooner.” 

Max swallows as he meets Charles’ careful smile and shivers against a light gust of wind. “I think that we needed the time, though,” he counters. “I was so convinced that you hated me that I just… didn’t think anything of my own feelings for you.” 

“I never hated you. More just frustrated with you - especially that day on the karting track. And when you finally jumped into F1 and entirely bypassed F2… though, I’m old enough now that I can admit that it was more jealousy than frustration. You… you’ve always been too good to be held back.” 

“You know as well as I do that talent will only get you so far. It takes a fair bit of luck for all the pieces to fall just perfectly into place.” 

Charles snorts. “Says you, a two-time defending world champion.” 

“As much as it pains me to admit it, your day will come, too, you know.” Max nudges Charles’ arm with his elbow. “I mean, I’d like to say that I’ll win it every year for the rest of my career, but that’s unlikely. Our sport comes down to milliseconds, and that can change so much from year to year.” 

“Okay, okay, mate,” Charles shakes his head with a tight smile. “I didn’t come here for a professional pep talk. I just…” he trails off with a sigh as he burrows against his coat to fend off the wind. “I just want to know where I stand with you… where we stand.” 

“Well, I love you and you love me,” Max states with blunt honesty. “I just don’t know what to do about it.” 

Charles’ face brightens with the most lovely mix of adoration and affirmation as he stares at Max. “You… you love me? Did I hear you right?”

“Of course, you did,” Max says as heat rises in his cheeks and his heart skips a beat. He knows that he loves Charles and there should be no reason for him to be so nervous, but still… saying it aloud makes it more real than he’s ever known. “I love you. I don’t even know for how long now.” 

The force of Charles’ smile threatens to split his face. “Then why are you so worried?” A relieved laugh bubbles out of him. “We love each other… and that’s all we need to conquer this world together.” 

“It’s never that easy.” Max scoffs with a shake of his head. “There’s so much to answer for - you know that the media will never let us live it down.” 

“That’s what we have managers and PR teams for,” Charles counters. “It’s their jobs to manage that frenzy while we get to do the things that we love most.” He waggles his brow suggestively. “Drive cars and each other.”

It sounds so simple, and Max finds himself chuckling as the weight in his chest eases. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so quick to leave Charles’ bedside that morning. Perhaps having Charles in his life will prove even more meaningful than he ever could have imagined. 

Max slows to a stop as he turns towards Charles. “Charles… I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have just left you that morning. Not without an explanation, at least. You’re worth so much more than that.” 

Charles draws up close, humming low in his throat. “I’m glad you recognize that now. I won’t lie and say that I wasn’t hurt to find my bed empty, but… well, I can understand that you needed some space to think.” 

Nodding gently, Max forces a hard swallow as his gaze drifts down the front of Charles’ coat to where his hands rest in the large pockets. He reaches a bare hand forward, prodding at Charles’ wrist and Charles pulls his hand free of the coat’s warmth. Their fingers lace together as they stand in the snow and flurries blow around their feet. 

Max shakes his head, offering a weak shrug of his shoulders. “I can’t promise that I won’t get it wrong again… but I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt you.” 

“I know, mon amour.” Charles reassures. “Same for me, too - neither of us are perfect, even if we are perfect for each other.” 

Max groans even as a smile warms his face. “Jesus, Charles… that is so cheesy.” 

Charles laughs, low and slow. “I didn’t mean it like that… no cheese intended. But, well…” He trails off, nibbling his lower lip for a moment. “I know I said that if we were both still single and unlucky in love at 25 years old, than we would marry each other… but let’s start with coffee, first. Or hot chocolate… after our walk.” 

Max furrows his brow with a teasing edge. “That’s where you’re wrong, Charles.” He squeezes Charles’ hand gently, tugging the leaner man forward and tucking him close. “I told you that I have no intention of being single at 25, and here we are….” 

Charles chuckles with a groan, returning the hand squeeze. “You’re awful, mate… just let me enjoy this moment with you, hmm?” 

“The first of many, I hope.” Max agrees, heart singing as Charles leans against him. 

“I know it will be.” 

Their footprints twine together as they continue to walk, and if the course stewards happen to find a heart-shaped set of footprints in the middle of the Kemmel Straight, it’s none of their business. 

CHARLES LECLERC & MAX VERSTAPPEN CONFIRM RELATIONSHIP STATUS

Speculation ran high during the 2022 season, but now fans can rejoice in the official news about the newest power couple in Formula 1. Multiple sources, including statements from both Oracle Red Bull Racing and Scuderia Ferrari, confirm that Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen entered into a romantic relationship in December 2022. 

This marks the first time that either driver has stepped out publicly with a partner, and the outpouring of support has been overwhelmingly positive for the new couple. The ‘lestappen’ tag is currently trending high on Twitter as fans, team members, and media personnel offer their congratulations and well wishes. 

The photo comes courtesy of Leclerc’s Twitter account, simply captioned “took us long enough, but here we are”. 

Fin

Series Main List

[percontaion-points]

Edible Delectables chapters 3 & 4

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 3

Kara briefly wondered if licking Dr. Dietrich's face would be in line with her liquid only diet restrictions. 

[Image description: Clint Eastwood, an elderly white man with grey hair, is sitting on a porch with a mug of coffee. He has a look of disgust and contempt on his face. It is captioned with “I had to read this and so do you.” End image description] 

After he was gone, Kara hit the button for her IV pain meds and as she drifted off, her last thought was that Jason had called her Kara. Did he remember her, too? 

Setting aside the fact that Jason and Kara went to high school together, what exactly is he supposed to call her? Ms. Baker? 

We wouldn’t be having this conversation if they hadn’t gone to school together. This entire thing is so stupid. 

"So what brought Kara Baker up?" Jaime was back on the scent. 

"I told you, she was a patient in the ER," Jason replied.

[...]

"Yes, but you said you remembered her from high school," Jaime persisted, handing him two wine glasses.

Yes. Because I walked in, said “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” and then remembered high school. Because that’s how memories fucking work. 

The subject was officially changed and they finished their dinner, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get Kara Baker out of his head.

Chapter 3 summary: Kara wakes up post-surgery, feeling awful because of said surgery. And angry because she’s on a liquid only diet following her post-op. There’s a lot of padding that serves no point, including a nurse telling her how to use the pain med button and that she should get up and start walking around. Editors? What editors? 

Anyway, right after Eva and Eric leave, Kara is trying to get up to use the toilet when Jason comes in. He helps her into the room, but leaves her to do her business. Kara feels weird when she thinks that he called her “Kara”, despite it being her fucking name. 

Later, Jason casually asks his twin sister, Jamie, if she remembers Kara from their senior year. Jamie is like “Oh, this girl? During your year of celibacy?” This sends Jason tumbling down memory lane and he thinks about his ex, Kate. 

Before Jason moved away, he’d promised Kate to be faithful to her, and he was. Kate had promised the same thing, but when the two of them were reunited after the year was over, Jason found out that Kate had done literally everybody who asked, and anything that they asked of her. ANYTHING. 

This turned into him being a manwhore, which was quickly followed by him focusing on his studies. Which normal people would say that it wasn’t a bad thing, but his family was convinced that he was gay… simply because he wasn’t dating anybody for two years. He found a kindred med student spirit in some girl named Michelle for a while, but after they broke up, she quickly got married to one of their old professors. 

Back in the present, Jamie continues to be all “You like this Kara girl! OMG, how romantic!” Even though the only thing Jason said was “Do you remember her from school? Anyway, she came into the ER last night.” Jason is fed up with his sister. 

Chapter 4

Jason arrived early at the hospital for his shift. Entering the lobby, his feet took over and, as if on autopilot, he walked to the elevators and hit the up button.

How can it be autopilot when this is the first time Kara’s been in the hospital before? 

It would be autopilot if she had a long-term illness and he visited her every single day. But not literally 24 hours after her surgery. 

"So...tell me about the DILF," Evalyn began as they made their way slowly from Kara’s hospital room. 

"DILF?" 

"Just substitute 'doctor'," Eva explained.

[Image description: Emma Stone, a young white woman with red hair. She is wearing a yellow top, a ribbon in her hair, red earrings, and red lipstick. She has a look of utter disgust on her face. It is captioned with “I had to read this and so do you.” End description.]

Kara giggled and continued back to her room.

Chapter 4 summary: The next morning, Kara kind of dinks around her hospital room for a while. When Eva comes in, Kara begs for her friend’s help with bathroom stuff, claiming that it hurts too much for her to twist around and wash out her own ass. And she’s too embarrassed to ask the MALE nurse for help. Eva does it, but under great emotional distress. 

When Jason gets into the hospital, he goes to visit Kara. It’s weird and awkward. The scene drags on for too long, and serves no real point, since we already know that they went to school together. 

After he leaves, Eva is like “OMG girl, explain!” So Kara does. Which again, it serves no real point since the readers already know all of this. 

[sailorhyunjinz]

~ 𝐈𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 ~

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; chan x fem!reader, bonnie&clyde!au, criminal!au, 60′s!au, bank robbery, heavy use of tobacco, explicit language,weaponry, mentions of infidelity, manipulation, mentions of murder, mentions of reader being smaller than chan, mentions of religious beliefs, authorities, american style!au, death, implied su-cide. 

𝘯𝘴𝘧𝘸 𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 ; SMUT!! sex against a wall (lmao good warning there cherry), dom!chan x sub!fem!reader, angry sex, dry humping, degradation, blowjob, face fucking, rough sex, dacryphilia, choking, possessiveness, implied corruption kink, creampie, unprotected sex (be careful plz), piv, clitorial stimulation, orgasm (m/f), cum. 

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 ; 5.9 k 

𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦 ; this was heavily inspired by both well bonnie and clyde but also “the serpent” because holy fuck i loved that serie so much 

also warning right; this is purely fiction and not meant to romanticise crime and i think it’s pretty obvious that i don’t know shit about how to rob a bank neither do i know anything about weapons,,, so take this with a grain of salt.

𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥.

𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 18

It was love. Love had led you down this path and shattered the one you cared the most about, the one that held your hand, the one that promised to die for you. Silence filled your mind as you stroked his cold cheek, his eyes closed. 

Your partner in crime.

Bang Chan.

“Tonight, coming up on channel 4, the continuation of the Lagoons.”

You turned the knob on the car radio, the windows on the silver vauxhall viva rolled down, your hair fluttering in the light breeze that accompanied the summer heat. The voice on the radio got distorted as you shifted channels, the antenna on the car barely being able to pick up signal from how far out in the desolate area the two of you were.

“Who the fuck watches the lagoons?” you said, furrowing your eyebrows, searching for some funky tunes as Chan was driving, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh. He laughed, the cigarette smoke whiffing over to you, burning at the tip and hanging out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Where we heading, sweet cakes?” he asked, cocking his eyebrows and checking himself out in the rearview mirror. You scoffed, adjusting the silk scarf around your head and reaching into the glove compartment of the light colored interior of the car, grabbing the half empty cigarette box. 

“Don’t call me that, I’m married” you say, the flicker of the metal zippo echoing, a purple flame igniting and burning the white end of the cigarette in your mouth, the orange part quickly stained by your lipstick. Chan smirked, casting a glance at you as you puffed, putting the lighter on the dashboard and leaning back against the leather seats, exhaling the smoke through the window as you observed the mountains that passed you, sweltering heat making your vision blur.

“And still you fuck me. What’s he good for? Cheating on you? You should just throw that ring away, I’ll buy you a new one”

The ring.

You and your ex-husband never officially divorced. You just packed up your things and left one night when he was out drinking, probably snogging a woman younger his age. The emerald ring that he once put on your finger held no meaning, it was simply for aesthetic now. Memorabilia from when life was worse, reminding you to always strive for something better. It was ironic, the way the sun shined on the emerald green symbolizes wealth and toxic jealousy. You couldn’t help but to feel jealous of the many young women he spent his nights with. You thought you had moved on but maybe you hadn’t since you refused to let go of the ring. Thank god you didn’t have his child or else you’d be tied down for life. You escaped at the right time. 

You didn’t answer Chan, simply staring out at the window. The car zoomed past with speed, there was no time for resting since you two were the infamous criminals that could be captured at any moment, it was still a miracle you were alive and well despite how many times you’ve been in open fire with the authorities. The two of you always managed and had each other in the end and the plethora of guns that were loaded in the trunk could buy you freedom for a little while. A gritty highway that never seemed to end, the tumbleweeds rolling about in the distance, he searched for a place you could rest since dusk would soon arrive. Life as a runaway couple had it’s ups and downs but the worst part of it was not knowing if you would survive another day, cops could just arrest you, rip you from your lover and lock you up like you were once before, writing love letters to Chan on a filthy piece of paper until you were bailed out by none other than your mother that you abandoned for him. They didn’t understand. He might be a criminal, stealing cars with his older brother since he admired his fancy lifestyle with hookers, expensive liquor and gold. He was so close until he stumbled up to you through a mutual friend and fell head over heels, he was too much of a hopeless romantic for him to be able to lead such a lifestyle. 

A big sign was ahead of you, a small red building inching closer to the two of you. Sure, it wasn’t the safest place, anyone could call the authorities on you but luckily telecommunications weren’t that advanced out here, most of the news being the ones you heard from between others lips. You two were simply a married couple whatever new village you infiltrated or at least that’s what people thought, the two of you were simply well-off, being able to afford the most expensive cigars and perfumes. The cigarette had burned down, almost meeting your plush lips that were covered in the latest lipstick. You threw it out the window, Chan had done the same moments prior. 

“What you say, hm? How about here for tonight?” he asked in a low voice, his hair slicked to the side, his jaw clenching as he rested his head on the headrest, looking at you with a quick glance with a smile. He always smiled when he gazed at you, it was almost a reflex. He was too smitten with love. You nodded, grabbing your oval sunglasses from the seat in between you and Chan, putting them on and observing yourself in the exterior mirror. Now you were ready for greetings with strangers, hiding behind your dark tinted shades.

The young man swerves onto the dusty driveway, the dust billowing from behind the car as stones flew everywhere, the car coming to a hasty halt. Your back bounced against the seat, removing your safety belt and opening the car door, stepping out with your shining red heels. The hotel seemed kinda small, perfect place for two sought-after criminals to hide. The building was a cherry red, tacky curtain in mustard yellow covering the chipped white window frames that held up the grimy glass panes. It lied in a remote place, being the only building as far as the eyes could see, beside the hotel there was a kiosk where one could buy the most basic necessities like bread, milk and cigarettes. As you were looking around the place, standing with your feet wide and your hand on your hip, Chan was busy unpacking the car. Not the weapons that were nicely hidden beneath a blanket but your two small briefcases containing nothing more than a couple of expensive clothes, makeup, a small notebook of your poems, a camera and photos of relatives. As you observed the mountainous landscape and dry land where cactuses made their home a small old man hurried out, dressed in a half-dingy suit and vest, the colorful tie being the main focus.

“Welcome welcome!” he says in a scurried voice. “Please, let me!” The old man shuffled over to Chan, grabbing the briefcases out of his grasp to which Chan bowed subtly in thankfulness. You and him followed the man inside through a lime green door and were greeted by the lobby that had a dark oak check-in counter, decorated with small trinkets of older times, a golden clock and small piles of paper. The man put down the bags in front of the desk, you casting a glance at Chan that was looking at the keys and the tags attached on the walls on small hooks.

“How long will you be staying for?” the man asked to which Chan hummed, looking at you before clearing his throat and answering - “Just one night”

“alrighty hmmm,,, then I’m guessing a double bed would suit your fancy? You do make a lovely couple indeed” he said with a smile, showing off his yellow stained teeth, years of coffee and tobacco. You smiled, clenching your jaw in frustration. 

“Thank you, which room exactly?” you said quickly, wanting the old man to hurry his actions. He looked back, exposing his half-balding grey head of hair and stretched for a pair of keys at the top, the keys jingling as he put them on the desk. 

“Room 4, it’s just here by the side. That will be 30 dollars” he said, writing something down on a piece of paper. Chan opened one of the luggages, quickly pulling out the needed amount and tips out from one of many wads of cash that were neatly tucked away between clothes and other products. He put the green bills on the desk to which the old man heightened his eyebrows, the generous tip falling to his liking. 

“Keep the change” Chan said with a smile, picking up the briefcases and heading to the room. You smiled at the old man as well, picking up the keys and turning to head over to your lover. 

You put the keys in the lock of the brittle wooden door, a small golden plate saying ‘4′ with a clear font. As the door opened you were met by a rather rustic room, the walls colored light blue and the bed frame the same wood as the door, murky white duvet covers on the bed. Luckily it was just one night.

Chan started packing up your belongings, mainly picking up a map of the area that he bought at a supermarket hours prior. He unfolded the bunt of paper, laying it flat on a vanity that had a round mirror attached in front. He placed his index finger harshly on a certain point on the map, his fingers clad in all kinds of rings with jewels. 

“Here we are, Johnsons motel, right?” You nodded at his question, him continuing talking in a firm voice. “So if we take this route tomorrow at around 9 am we should be there by 10:50 am which is perfect, we c-” You interrupted him mid sentence.

“Chan, you told me we weren’t gonna do this until next week, we have money!” you yelled, only then remembering that the walls are thin in such a matured building. He sighed, turning to gaze at you with dark eyes. He hated it when you contradicted him, it was almost like he was addicted to making you his slave and sure, he did take care of you whenever you were hurt due to his actions but he liked having you totally dependent on him, risking your life for him. The veins running down his arms got bolder, he moved the arm that was holding him up from the vanity instead standing right in front of you with a wide stance, his eyebrows heightened.

“What did you say?”

Your back hit the tasteless blue wallpaper as Chan walked towards you, trapping you between the wall and his muscular figure. A harsh gulp descended down your esophagus as you gazed intently into his hooded eyes, yours twinkling with mere innocence though you were far from innocent in the eyes of the public. He looked you up and down, almost swearing with his eyes, gliding his tongue against the inside of his cheek. 

“I said why can’t we just wait with that for a bit? We robbed multiple stores last week and we have money? I don’t see why you need to hurry so, like fuck s-”

“So you think money grows on trees? We do this together y/n and I could just leave you whenever, I’d just laugh seeing your ass trying to survive”

He leaned closer to your ear, his body pressed against yours. His hot breath lingered near you, tickling the shell of your ear.

“Or better yet I could kill you, no one needs a criminal” 

His voice vibrated through you, the deep tone scaring you but oddly turning you on, the heat pooling around your core, your panties sticking to the thin fabric of your panties. You burst into laughter, catching him off guard.

“You motherfucker” you said through your teeth, smiling brightly at him. 

“I don’t like this attitude you’re giving me y/n, I’m not joking with you” he said with a devilish smirk, moving away from your ear and staring into your soul. It was almost as if he stared through you, his jaw moving as he clenched it.

“Does it look like I’m joking?” your facial expressions turned serious in seconds, the smile wiping off your face. You looked him dead in the eyes, not even flinching when he smashed the rough palm of his hand on the wall next to your head, the loud sound echoing in the cool room, the slight humming of the air conditioner above the bed.

“No and you won’t be after I fuck you” 

You wanted to rile him up even more, get him so angry that he had no other choice but to pin you against the wall and stuff his cock so far down your leaking cunt that you’d alert the other guests around the motel, hearing how good Chan fucks you. 

“Hah,,, is that your only threat?” you chuckled mockingly, running your pointer finger up his toned chest, lifting up his head by his chin and flicking your finger off it, striking a jeering smile at him. His knee traveled up your leg, jabbing at your wet clothed entrance to which you accidentally moan, the gain of friction finally arriving when your core was burning with pure arousal as Chan spoke. With a gleaming look in your eyes you rubbed against his knee, his slightly cold hands wrapping around your neck, feeling your larynx bob when you swallow your spit, not breaking eye contact for a second. His lips landed on yours, pushing his knee against your sex causing you to moan into the kiss as you rolled your hips on the flat surface of his dress pants. Your lips pursed, teasingly biting his bottom lip as a sign that you needed him, his tongue slipping into your mouth and danced around with yours in a sloppy battle. Your hands fumbled with the big metal buckle of his belt, undoing it in desperation and unzipping the black pants that covered his bottom half. Chan grunted as you palmed him through his boxers, his erection begging to be freed from it’s clothed prison, you squeezed his member, massaging it in your hands to make his knees weak, make him beg for you but this time you would be begging for him as he placed removed his knee from your dripping cunt causing you to whine from the loss of contact. 

“C-chan, please I need you” you pleaded in a thin voice, lifting your head up as his kiss diverted to your neck, his rough lips leaving kiss after kiss on the sensitive skin, moving down to your exposed collarbones. 

“You’ll only get what you want if you do whatever I ask you to”

You nodded eagerly, putting your hands down his boxers and stroking his cock, Chan groaning against the skin of your neck near your ear, your earrings rattling. 

“Yes, I’ll do anything! J-just fuck me already” you whimpered, your hot cheek against the wall. 

“Then you follow your little ass to the bank tomorrow and do what you are told, understood?” His voice was deep, humming as he nibbled on your ear, giving it small kitten licks.

“And if I don’t?” You challenged him for a last time, stopping your slow strokes down the shaft of his twitching dick and removing your hands from his underwear and instead wrapping your arms around his waist. He scoffs, pulling back and looking you in the eyes, slowly putting his hand around your throat and tightening.

“I’ll choke you to death, you know I’ll get away with it” he said with a lifeless smirk. You nodded in pure fear, your eyes twinkling in the minimal light that came from the sun setting outside the dusty windows. Suddenly his hands grasp a handful of your hair, gripping it by the roots and shoving you down on your knees that land on the frangible floorboards with a thump. He harshly lets go of your hair in order to pull down his pants and underwear, his hard veiny cock springing free mere inches from your saliva coated lips. Chan gave his cock a couple of strokes before rubbing the crimson tip against your lips, hissing when you poke your tongue out, him smearing his precum against the surface of your wet tongue. You pursed your lips around him, slowly working your way down his shaft, taking a breath of air every time you pull away, licking the underside of his dick with fat stripes all the way from the base to the tip, flicking your tongue off. His big hands grabbed either side of your head, him thrusting inside your throat, not caring if you gagged, that just made him even more viscous, hearing your desperate moaning and seeing the spit run down your chin and neck covered in his marks. Your head bumped against the wall with every thrust, your nose pressing up against his abdomen as he was balls deep inside your mouth. Your eyes burned, tears teasing at your tear duct, a cold salty stream rolling down your cheek as he stopped, pulling out your mouth, you coughing violently. He swiped his thumb over your cheek, wiping the tear with one finger before grabbing you by the neck, lifting your head up and looking into your eyes as he inserted his dick in your mouth once again, your thick saliva making his cock glisten. His silent groans only made you helplessly rub your thighs together, eager to have him inside of you. Every moan that slipped from between his swollen lips made the blood rush south, not to mention his fierce eyes that were glued on you as he coldly fucked your skull, no hint of compassion. He stretched out your throat, the clear outline of his cock making its appearance on your esophagus as he went deeper, groaning as you felt him twitch inside your mouth. As the familiar sensation of a knot in his stomach descended upon him he pulled out, rubbing the tip of his leaking cock against your glistening lips before he was quick with his movements. 

It didn’t take much for Chan to throw you over his shoulder, legs thrashing and you squealing, telling him to put you down. He did but not in the way you expected, slamming you down on the plushy bed, a fine layer of dust swirling in the orange sunset that shined in. The impact caught you off guard, knocking the air out of your lungs. Chan climbed on top of you, his belt buckle touching your body as he hovered above you. You hastily shuffled upwards to the headboard, lifting your hips as you removed your brightly colored bell bottom pants revealing your panties that already had a wet stain decorating them, Chan chuckling as his thumb glided over the patch of wetness. 

“You’re so needy baby, all worked up from giving me a blowjob, huh? I can slip my cock into you so easily” he purred at you, his fingers hooking at the elastic band of your underwear, slipping them down to your ankles, you shimmying your foot out of the fabric and letting the panties dangle from your other foot as your spread your legs, Chan being in between them. He danced his fingers up the wet folds that presented themselves in front of him, you squirming at the slightest touch. 

“You think you have control, you think you can do anything without me? You’re wrong, without me you’re nothing” he growled at you, his fingers covered in your slick as he teased your clit, fingers rolling in circles as you clutched onto the covers, knuckles whitening. You hurried by taking off your top, throwing your bra somewhere in the same direction, exposing your hardened buds, Chan’s mouth watering. He did the same, momentarily losing contact with your wet cunt as he pulled off his shirt, his perfectly sculpted body surprising you every time, as if you hadn’t fucked him countless times before. Chan attached his lips to one of your nipples, the other one being fondled by his hand, the cold pure silver causing you to shiver. Your hands stroked his soft hair, twirling it between your fingers and softly whimpering. He left tiny marks all over your chest, his lips sucking and gently nibbling on your supple skin. When your entire chest was a mess of marks and spit he lifted your legs, leaning them against his wide sturdy shoulders as he teased your wet entrance, rubbing his tip against your folds causing your back to arch slightly, a long pitched mewl forcing its way out of your mouth. When he finally slipped his cock inside you he groaned at your tightness. 

“fuck y/n, you’re so tight no matter how much I fuck you” he said, leaning over you so that your legs almost touch your chest, planting one hand beside your neck as the other one choked you, the restriction of air making you lightheaded but only adding to the pleasure that burned at your core as he relentlessly fucked into your squelching cunt. Your feet dangled near his shoulders lifelessly as the sheer momentum of his thrusts made you move upwards on the bed, the bed frame creaking due to the age it carried, you hoped no one noticed what scandalous activities was going on this room but it was probably already too late as your moans turned into high pitched cries. Your hands folded over Chan’s wrist as you tried to stabilize yourself, it took every ounce of strength to not close your quivering thighs. His thrusts got faster, rolling his hips against yours as the hand around your neck loosed, a harsh slap landing across your tear stained cheek, his thumb dipping inside your mouth, you latching on instantly.

“Look at you, thinking you’re so tough. You’re weak, remember that” he said with a lifted smirk, asserting his dominance through his dark gaze. You nodded, feeding his ego even more as the hand around your neck tightened, making you lightheaded with arousal, his cock ramming into your tight cunt that begged for release just like you. Chan loved seeing you like this. All fucked out with drool hanging from the corners of your lips, your eyes rolling back into your skull as he vigorously made your world shake, going hard enough to make the bed squeak loudly, the headboard bumping into the wall with every thrust. You couldn’t form a single sentence, blabbering incoherent sentences with his name stringed into it, in your mind you made perfect sense but your hesitant lips didn’t do the same. 

“f-fuck!” you cried out, the even pace getting sloppier as the skin slapping sound grew louder, bouncing against the awfully colored walls of the shabby motel room. You squirmed around on the bed, flailing your arms as you desperately tried to grab onto either your lover or the flowery sheets, your efforts fruitless as you felt your orgasm approaching with wide strides as Chan started circling your swollen abused clit with the pad of the hand that wasn't forcefully holding onto your throat, making you swoon. You arched your back as you couldn’t hold on any longer, clenching around his cock with every ounce of perseverance. With weak legs you interlaced them, trapping him deeper inside you as the merciless fiddling with your bud made you let out a breathy broken moan, your tits bouncing with the movements. The male looked at the tears that rolled down your cheeks, adoring your bloodshot eyes. How he loved staring down at his prized possession. He had ruined a once innocent girl, made her his with the mere power of love and crime. 

He lulled his head back as he was dangerously close to his climax, drawing in a harsh breath from between his clenched teeth, the air cooling down in his mouth before warming up in his tobacco-stained lungs. He was sent over the edge with a final thrust that made your body jolt in excitement, his thumb now simply resting on your clit as all thoughts were wiped clean from his mind, his hot seed spilling into your cunt, unknowingly making you cum as your abdomen contracted, your teary eyes squinting together, not in pain but in pleasure. His cum painted the quivering walls of your sex, draping his body over yours as he panted, staying inside you to ensure every drop of cum was where it supposed to be. His lips were coated with a fine layer of saliva, two lips meeting in a loveable kiss. It might seem odd to others. That you love a man that only brings you down or uses you, at least that’s what it looked like from a different perspective but you were infatuated, maybe even obsessed. He made you famous and he took you under his wing when you fled from your scumbag of a husband. 

Now Chan was the only thing that mattered.

He pulled out, falling down beside you, the weight of the bed shifting as his built back hit it. The cum dripped out of you slowly, hitting the sheets and staining them. You ruffled your hair before you stood up, cum running down your inner thigh as you made your way over to the shower. Chan instead crept down under the covers, staring up at the ceiling in a half lying position, casting glance at the dark oak bedside tables where a packet of cigarettes was left haphazardly along with your metal zippo, a gift from your dad that died in war. It was important to you, important enough to destroy you with smoke. Chan retrieved one of the deadly sticks from it’s pretty eye catching packaging and lit one end, inhaling the smoke. He put one hand beneath his head that was supported by the pillow as he other one momentarily removed the cigarette, flicking the ashes on the cold tile floor, the grey thick smoke spreading through the room, interlacing the bed sheets with it’s scent. The gentle tapping of the water on the bathroom floor calmed him, calmed him from knowing that tomorrow might be the last day he’s alive. Or maybe it’s you. 

Here you were again, getting into the sparkling clean car that was loaded with nothing more than a multitude of weaponry that many times wasn’t used against civilians, just to give a gentle reminder that you don’t fuck with the two of you unless you wanna get a bullet burned through your skull. If they ask for it they are gonna get it.

Chan loaded the suitcases into the truck where a blanket covered the weapons, the pile of murder machines looking innocent like this. The sand of the desert was blowing in your face, your long skirt flowing in the wind. Just because you were a criminal didn’t mean you had to dress out of fashion, the style was a part of it. You gazed out into the valleys of dust, the lonesome tumbleweeds drifting with the wind like a blind rat following the smell of musky cheese, not aware that it’s heading to it’s own death.

“Ready, sugarplum?” Chan said, wrapping his hand around your head and leaning it against his sturdy shoulder. 

“I was born ready” you whispered into the wuthering wind. He smiled but put on a serious face as you looked at him, before walking over to the passenger seat, opening the car door.

“Let’s do what we do best, darling.” you said with a bittersweet grin, sitting down and closing the door. 

The bank wasn’t too far away, that being that it was still in the same state since many other robberies required long car rides that was either filled with funky tunes or more cigarettes than you can count. This one wasn’t any different. His two hands were gripping the steering wheel as he drove faster than the speed limit, praying to whatever nonexistent god he had in his head that the police wouldn’t flash their red and blue sirens behind the vehicle. He probably prayed to the money. He often said that money did things not even god was able to do and there was truth in Chan’s words or maybe the both of you were too infatuated with the idea of money that you would go to any lengths just to get it. Just to smell the fresh dollar bills in your hands. The car was in complete silence, only the growling of the engine being heard. It was always scary heading to a new place, you never knew what would happen there. Maybe it’s the last time you witness your lover behind the steering wheel, the last time you feel the wind fluttering through you hair due to the rolled down window. Maybe it was the last time you would see the emerald green jewel reflecting it’s light as the sun bounced off the glossy surface of the stone. You denied your longing for your husband, beside all the cheating and drugs you were ready to stay with him but there was one thing that Chan could do better; love. 

You could tell how tense Chan was. The way he anxiously checked the rearview mirror and forcefully looked straight at the neverending road in the middle of nowhere. It was pretty apparent that this lifestyle was driving him mad, making all his nerves stand on the edge of his skin, paranoid to the bone. But there was no end in sight unless someone else put that end there. He was never gonna stop, go as far as he could and shoot for the stars. It was people like him, greedy people that life usually steered the wrong way and well,,, you were one of those as well, greedy for luxury even though the life you were living now was anything far from that. You turned to Chan, his one hand rested in his lap and you slowly reached over to grab it, rubbing your thumb over knuckles. His eyes momentarily diverted from the road to you, looking at your eyes that were focused on his slightly rough hands.

After what seemed like an eternity, Chan parked into the parking lot of the bank, the building being just as remotely placed as the motel. Perfect. The car was strategically placed near the road for easy escape if there would even be any required. As you stepped out of the car you opened the trunk, uncovering the multitude of weapons that lay beneath the blanket and passed Chan his favorite rifle, the M1918 Browning Rifle. You simply stuck to a revolver since you could hide it in your holster for when you needed two hands to grab the money and shove it into the burlap bag. 

There wasn’t much thought needed for the robberies that happened this far away from the city, the local police station was a good drive away so neither you or Chan worried too much but it was still a risk. The big wooden doors were slammed open by him, a shot up into the ceiling shattered a lamp and next second your ears were filled by the terrified screams of men, women and children. You didn’t hesitate your movements as you went up to the multiple receptionist desks where the women in neat uniforms were all kneeling on the floor. 

“Get the fuck up!” you yelled, jumping on the desk and pointing your gun at one of the girls, she looked rather young and innocent with her dark shaking pupils that wandered with pure fear. You yelled at her to open all the vaults, to which she complied not having any other choice than to get shot. Her hands quivered as she put the money in the bag, filling it up with valuable green bills that would promise you dreams. You glanced back at Chan that was pointing the rifle at the people that lied down on their stomachs with their hands on their head, the sound of a child's tears not even bothering him or his conscience. You held the gun to her head, lonesome tears streaming down her face as her legs were barely able to hold her up. A smile cracked on your crimson painted lips as the bag filled up, the feeling of adrenaline rushing through your blood making you fly on the clouds, you could do whatever you wanted in this moment. You were free. 

Just as you were about to turn around, signaling to Chan that the mission was done you heard another gunshot that was foreign from the usual sounds of the weapons you carried. It didn’t sound like it came from inside the building. The second after you heard a window shatter, glass flying over the civilians that screamed in fear once again and then you heard a thump, a loud one. You looked over your shoulder and there he was, your lover with a bullet through his back, the puddle of sangria red blood spreading over the bright vinyl flooring. This was the sight you feared the most in the world and here it was, right in front of your naked eyes. You dropped the revolver you held in your dominant hand and rushed over to him as you heard a male voice over a megaphone from outside the building. 

“Civilians, exit the building immediately”

The crowd of people squeezed through the doors, fleeing to whatever corner they could or hiding behind the countless cop cars that flashed their colorful sirens. You dragged Chan’s head into your lap as you fell down in defeat, looking at his closed eyes and his face that turned a pale blue with hints of grey, he was cold to the touch and his blood stained your clothes as well as the floor, the dark red marks on the floor that lead to his body as you dragged him closer to you, cupping his cheek. Frigid tears rolled down your cheeks and accumulated on your chin before dripping down onto his face, coloring his lips with a clear sheen. 

He wasn’t gone, he simply couldn’t be. He was your Chan, the Chan that always got away no matter what. Nothing could stop the two of you, not a stupid bullet through his back. You shaked him as you sobbed loudly, your lips quivering as black streaks of mascara covered the supple valleys of your cheeks. 

“Chan! Chan, fuck!! Wake up!!” you yelled as you shook him vigorously but his lifeless body was limp in your arms, no sign of life to be seen. You hugged him closer, not feeling his heartbeat or lungs filling with air from this cursed place. He wasn’t gone, he was still here and he would wake up one day, you told yourself these lies because they are easier to believe than the cold hard truth. Your blood boiled with pure rage. Somebody had stopped your dream life, that someone being the law itself but no matter who it was it still stopped you and you never took no for an answer. Your empty lost gaze diverted to the loaded gun that lied only footsteps away from your cowered body.

“Exit the building, leave the weapons” you heard the voice call out from outside, the megaphone crackling and distorting the voice. 

What was better?

Dying in the hands of the authorities or dying in Chan’s arms?

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,” Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you’ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[hurricaneonanesthesia]

Can I have a Sova request where the reader spends time with alot of animals and I'm not talking about domestic animals like dogs and cats I'm talking about wild animals. Ex they are on a date in the woods and a random pack of wolves suddenly came and become docile around her

Hi there! Thanks so much for requesting!

Ah Sova my beloved <3, I’ll be more than happy to write for him! This is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy it regardless!

~Admin Hurricane

Warnings: some google translated russian sdjgkjdds

Word Count: 400+

Genre: fluff, established relationship

Pairing(s): Sova x GN!Reader

Sova had seen a lot of strange things in all of his days, especially with his constantly working with radiants, Sova was no stranger to seeing all sorts of weird powers and such.

However what completely baffled him was how you were miraculously able to completely tame an entire wolf pack and get away scot free while you were at it.

You, with absolutely no radiant abilities sitting there on the ground petting the wolves as if you had no other care in the world.

The first time that Sova saw this, he nearly had a heart attack and Hunter’s Furied the wolves away because he thought that they were attacking you and not leaping up to tackle you for cuddles.

He asked Skye for help, but she just shrugged, “Well I mean they probably just have an affinity for animals, I wouldn’t worry ‘bout it too much mate!” she tried reassuring him.

This still didn’t quell his worries but he wanted to be able to trust you.

The next time the two of you were in the woods together, Sova was slightly more mentally prepared he really wasn’t but shhhh.

So when the wolves started crowding around you, he knelt down next to you, a hand on your shoulder.

“Sova, there’s no need to be so stiff, they’re friendly see?” you laughed, affectionately scratching one of the wolves behind their ear. “Ronan and the others won’t do anything unless I tell them to,” you mused. Sova blinked owlishly, “You named them?” You looked back at Sova incredulously, “I couldn’t resist,” you snorted, “They’ve grown attached to me, so I thought, might as well.” You brushed your pants off standing up and gesturing to each one, in turn, naming each of them respectively, “The one with mostly white fur is Ghost, and the big one over there is Grey Wind, the two tussling over there in the leaves are Aspen and Raine, and this one is Ronan,” you said patting the last one over its head affectionately. Ronan returned the gesture by licking your hand.

Upon seeing this, Sova laughed softly, pulling you in close. “I suppose I should have given you a bit more credit Моя звезда, I was worried over nothing,” he said, ruffling your hair affectionately. “Sovaaaa,” you whined, pouting up at him, “Look, just cause I’m not an agent, doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself.” Sova smiled gently, taking your hand in his, “I know, I’m sorry, I may have underestimated you, my love. Forgive me.”

Reminder that my requests are open! Be sure to send something my way if you’re interested! Requesting Rules are here!

Want more of my writing? Be sure to check out my masterlist :)

If you wanna request something, don’t be afraid to send something my way! Thanks for reading and have a lovely day!

Wanna know what else I’ll write for? Here you go! Just be sure to read the requesting rules before you send anything in.

[ekaterinatepes]

Nothing but the Best

Author’s notes: hello, and thank you so much for all your reblogs, likes and comments. I absolutely adore reading all your reviews. Thank you for taking a minute to comment. It motivates me to write and have a better understanding of how you see the characters and story development. Please know the tag lists are still open! Let me know if you would like to be added!

XI.

Suguru woke up around 6am. He figured you would be already out for your morning run and coming back soon for a shower and breakfast.

After making his bed and taking a shower himself, Suguru put on a pair of grey sweat pants and a black fitted t-shirt. His sleeve of tattoos partially exposed, his right arm covered in carefully designed Chinese, Japanese symbols, Nordic runes and dragons. Aside from the pleasant although chaotic aesthetic, the art work etched on his skin served as a form of seal or an amulet. Something to keep the darkness within in check.

He decided something simple was in order, knowing you, there wasn’t much that he could get away with making and expecting you to eat with your rigorous diet requirements. Scrambled egg whites with some parsley, cherry tomatoes, salt and pepper. For a drink he prepared a blend of that green juice you liked: with green apples, pineapple and celery.

The raven haired sorcerer set everything on the table and looked at his phone. I was 6:45am. You were already late. You usually were back home by 6:30am. Maybe you went out later and decided to extend your run. It was your free day after all.

Although… you usually made sure Suguru knew so he wouldn’t worry.

Grabbing his phone he texted you

***From: Sugu

To: Kitten 🐱

Breakfast is ready!***

Immediately he heard your phone go off in your room. Now, that was weird. You always took your phone with you to listen to music while working out. Did you perhaps sleep in?

Knocking at your door Suguru called “hey doll face! Are you awake?” No answer came back from the inside. He could not hear the shower running either. “Hey! I’m coming in” he announced but when he opened the door he found your room empty, your bed was still made and cold. Your phone on the night stand along with your apartment keys.

Fear coursed through his veins when he tried to check for your energy trail and found it long gone. You have been gone since last night.

“Fuck!” One didn’t need to be a genius to know Satoru had something to do with your disappearance.

Putting on his shoes he ran out the door. He had to find you before something bad happened. Gojo had not been in a good state of mind back in Japan, he didn’t even want to imagine what was going on in his head now that he had you so close. So stupid! Suguru should have kept a close eye on you instead of trusting that just because you were in the same apartment you would be safe from Satoru.

-

Your mouth was dry, your body overheated and sore. The sun hitting your face made you groan softly, you tried to turn around and continue sleeping but you couldn’t. Your body was trapped by heavy and strong limbs wrapped around you.

One pale and strong arm around your waist, the other supporting your head. Legs intertwined with Satoru’s. The platinum haired man laid behind you spooning you. He had you on a death grip.

Panic.

Last night came rushing altogether, with the frenzied memories of the passionate sexual encounter you and Satoru shared. And of course that had not been it, in the middle of the night he woke you up with tender kisses on your thighs and his head between your legs, setting aflame your senses over and over again; he wanted to have you once more. Second round lead to third and soon the sun was rising by the time your sweaty and exhausted bodies curled together to fall asleep in each other’s arms.

You moved as softly as possible, trying not to wake up the sleeping sorcerer who snored slightly on your ear. Removing his arm from your middle section was first, then you proceeded to try and detangle your legs from his.He groaned and you stopped moving, looking behind you Satoru merely adjusted in his sleep and continued snoring lightly, allowing you enough time to leave the bed. Your clothes laid destroyed and scattered all over the floor.

Swallowing thickly you decided to grab a pair of sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt out of Satoru’s closet. You had to get out of there. NOW!

Barefooted you left the suite and walked down the main hall hurriedly receiving weird stares from the people you crossed on your way out. Taking the elevator down your hands trembled. ‘Come on! Come on! Faster!’ mentally hurrying the elevator until you reached the lobby. As soon as that door opened you sprinted towards the main entrance where the hotel taxis lined up. You got in one and gave him your address.

The drive wasn’t long, when you made it home you told the cab to charge the ride to Gojo Satoru’s room. You didn’t have anything on you to pay. The kind looking old cab driver agreed and left.

You were about to walk in when Suguru came rushing out with a frantic look in his eyes. The moment he saw you his stomach tightened, you were dressed in Satoru’s clothes, barefooted, with your h/c hair disheveled and all the marks that covered your neck, visible through the collar of the shirt you wore. Your e/c eyes looked at him, rimmed with tears when you ran into his arms. Geto held you tightly for a moment giving you the solace you needed.

“Come on y/n… let’s go inside” he whispered on your ear guiding you back into the building and towards the elevator.

As soon as you made it up to your apartment you broke down. Suguru had to pick you up and take you to the couch where he held you in his arms

“What happened Y/N?” He asked dreading the answer. Had Satoru forced himself on you? He didn’t even want to think about it. If his best friend had done that… Suguru would find a way to kill him.

You shook your head and tried to calm down enough to speak but that didn’t happen for the longest time.

Finally when it seemed you cried a river you avoided Suguru’s eyes, looking down you said “I… fucked up… “ it was a small whisper “I slept with him” you admitted “he showed up here last night and warped us back to his hotel and then… everything got out of control” you avoided saying that Satoru had tried to force himself on you at the beginning. You didn’t want to make things worse than they already were.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled before you broke in tears once more. Suguru and you were not in a relationship but a part of you felt you had betrayed the possibility of a future with him last night.

Suguru swallowed hard, he had no right to demand anything from you, it wasn’t your fault you were in love with Satoru and not with him. He still chose to remain by your side because he didn’t have the heart to leave you alone when you needed him the most.

-

Crystalline blue eyes opened, he stared at the ceiling of his hotel room before a hand searched the spot on the bed next to him. It was cold and empty. He sat up like a spring, you were gone “Y/N!…” he yelled but you were not there anymore “fuck!” When did you leave? You didn’t even give him the chance to explain, to talk to you about what he felt and what he was willing to do to get you back. He didn’t want you to think last night had been a one time thing nor an ‘exes fling’.

It seemed he couldn’t do anything right. Last night had been… magical for a lack of a better word. He felt your love in your kisses, your tender and passionate touch, in your arms he felt redeemed, when you allowed him to have you Satoru thought…. he hoped to be on the way to get you back. Despite his mistakes and his guilt you welcomed him inside you once more and gave him everything.

He didn’t want all those hours of love making and love promises to mean nothing. He had to talk to you and he had to be ready to accept whatever it is you were going to say.

Grabbing the shreds of your clothing from the floor he inhaled deeply finding your lingering scent on them. Once more, the fact he almost forced you stabbed his chest with a piercing pang of guilt. Last night had been fueled by his jealousy. But when he realized what he was doing he changed his behavior and instead chose to show you how much he loved you, how much he needed you in his life.

Something in him was changing. Last night he opened his eyes to the monstrosity he was capable of committing. It wasn’t right to do this to you. He was inadvertently destroying the shards of your relationship.

A revelation washed over him like a bucket of cold water

He had to be willing to lose you if he wanted a chance to get you back. It had to be your choice. He couldn’t rob you of your autonomy just because he was going to lose his shit if you chose to leave him for good.

It took a few hours of getting ready mentally and preparing himself for what he was going to say to you. He wanted to talk to you and explain that what happened last night meant everything to him, he wanted to open his heart and lay it at your feet. He was afraid of what he was going to encounter. Will you reject him and tell him it was a mistake? Will you still push to go through with the divorce?…. Will you give him a chance to prove to you he was truly remorseful and willing to make changes to get you back?

He warped outside of the door of your apartment and rang the bell.

-

Suguru opened the door to see Satoru standing on the other side. His anger and frustration got the best out of him so he threw a punch that incredibly connected with Satoru’s cheek. The white haired sorcerer tumbled backwards but didn’t fall on the floor. He chose not to use his infinity on purpose, he owed that one to Suguru.

“What do you want now Satoru?” Asked his best friend while standing in front of the door, his frame blocking the access.

“Can I… talk to her?” Gojo asked in a tame tone, he didn’t come here to make demands, he wanted to fix things once and for all.

https://youtu.be/DGxHSt8gRkY

“I’ll talk to him Sugu” Your voice came from behind. Geto turned around to look into your eyes, doubt plagued his expression. He wasn’t certain it was the best thing right now. But before he could protest you continued “I’ll be alright… I have to do this…” squeezing his arm trying to comfort him Suguru sighed and nodded “I’ll be in my room if you need me” shooting Satoru a last warning glance he left walking down the hall.

|||

See you've been changing, baby

In good ways and bad ways

Can't say what I say, it's far too late

And I think you made me, baby

Made me too nervous

Crying and this hurt and I gotta tell you why

|||

“Come in…” Satoru followed you into your living room “y/n… I… I am sorry…. “ you were about to interrupt him but he lifted one hand asking you to wait “please let me say this..” agreeing you let him continue.

“I am sorry for all the pain I put you through, it was selfish and stupid. I never loved Sookie, it was always you. The only woman in my heart. And I know this sounds like a stupid excuse but it’s the truth. “ taking a deep breath he steeled himself for the next part. You were going to hate him but he had to come clean

“I was an idiot… I thought, before Sookie… I thought that maybe I was not really in love with you…. That… if I met someone else I wouldn’t feel this need… this terrifying addiction I feel for you… I was wrong. Everything intensified tenfold, I realized I love you more than anything in the world… more than myself. I wanted to fix everything but… it was too late because the damage had been done” swallowing hard Gojo continued “I failed you… as a husband, I know it has no forgiveness and yet… I cannot even start to think of a life without you in it. My days are miserable without you. I can’t sleep, I can’t think, I can’t function like a fucking normal person without you Y/N.

It hurt so much to hear his words. It made you feel like all the promises, all the love confessions he made before convincing you to marry him were lies. Why did he ask you to marry him in the first place if he wasn’t sure he loved you? What kind of sick game were you to him?!. You had to make a conscious effort to not sob. Biting your lower lip, forcing the tears to remain contained.

Almost as if he was listening to your thoughts Satoru continued “I fell in love with you the first moment I saw you Y/N. When I held you in my arms that night outside of the ballet studio in Tokyo, when I pulled you away from that car… I loved you. I just…. Was too stupid and too selfish to admit that to myself” he took a step closer and held one of your hands “I’m sorry it took so long for me to realize you were… you are all I need. Please Y/N, please forgive me. I can’t live like this anymore. The guilt and despair are consuming me alive” he said in a broken whisper. “last night meant the world to me… baby, I love you so much…” continued looking into your eyes with his azure orbs while he held your hand.

This was too much to handle…

It was one thing to think Satoru fell out of love and that’s why he found someone else. But it was another completely different to hear he had not even been sure of his feelings for you in the first place.

Pulling your hand away you couldn’t control the tears that escaped your eyes, like translucent cascades, pouring the pain you felt “leave….” You whispered looking at the floor.

“Y/N…. Please don-…”

You cut him “LEAVE!” A firm yell came out; half broken, half desperate. “You… you lied to me! All these years! Y… you lied to me! “ the statement was like a dagger straight to his heart. Spoken in a painful tone. He wanted to explain further but you cut him “I heard what you had to say now let me be…” the glacial tone in your voice froze the blood in Satoru’s veins. Your eyes hardened inclemently as you regarded this man who you once thought was the beginning and end of your life. You really couldn’t see the man you fell in love with in him. Not anymore.

|||

Said I can do this all night, baby

Said I was actin' out of line, maybe

Can't put my trauma to the side

When you told me I was lyin'

Had me feelin' like I died, baby

I seen a grown man cry, baby

Just see you do it, ain't special, no

|||

“Y/N..” absolute terror transfixed Gojo’s handsome features. Tears of despair running down his handsome pale face. Your aura was so cold and distant. He had never seen you like this before. “Please Y/N… I-…”

“I said… leave! And don’t come back. I am done with you. Good bye Satoru…” you turned around and walked away, disappearing behind the door of your room.

|||

And I know it might mess you up

Hatin' me ain't gon' get you love

Ain't nobody gon' set you up

I ain't even gon' sweat you, love

And we'll never be friends like this

God couldn't forgive like this

Way I really went in like this

Thank God I ain't been like this

|||

Suguru heard the loud exchange and came out. He couldn’t help but feel conflicted about his best friend. On one hand he was mad at him and wanted to kick him out himself, but seeing his desolate face as he stared at the closed door of your room made him feel bad for him. ‘You dug yourself in this hole my friend’ was all he could think “I think it’s best if you leave now Satoru..”

Gojo’s eyes were stuck on the door behind which you disappeared, his lower lip trembled, his hands shaking with anxiety, his heart contracting painfully in his chest, suffocating him. He needed.. he needed you but… you didn’t want him there. He wanted to say fuck it and steal you once more but he couldn’t solve things that way. No, you deserved more… better.

Without another word he warped away.

————-> Chapter 12

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@coldvillainess

@vampgguk

@sukuna1stwife

@tampon-earrings

[strawberry-lemonade-kisses]

Family

This isn't sad, I promise.

Early morning was always so peaceful. The blanket of fog that draped over your yard was so calming. Early morning was when every animal, every form of life began its day, including your small family.

“My, My, Y/N, you’ve taken to motherhood so beautifully, I feel useless for the first time” Sitting down on the engawa Shinobu placed a quilt on the ground in front of you. You smiled at her, placing the bundle in your arms carefully on the grey and black fabric.

“Thank you, It’s only been two days but you and Amane have both been so helpful. The letters she sends have been such a wonderful help. I’m excited for Kyojuro to get home.” She nodded, looking down at your daughter, her rosy cheeks poking out of the blanket you had her swaddled in.

“I wrote to him as soon as you went into labor, so he knows. Hopefully he arrives home soon, we haven’t heard much.”

“Yes, I know, the last time he wrote was a couple days ago so I do hope he arrives soon. I was hoping Hinata would wait but she was ready to say hi. Huh my beautiful girl?” You smiled at your baby, her big yellow eyes that mimicked her fathers stared up at you, taking in the world she had waited so long to see. The fog had begun its ascent as the three of you sat outside, the calm and cool morning air was a blessing to enjoy with your baby, another beautiful day was beginning.

“Senjuro will be here soon won’t he?” Shinobu shifted next to you, moving to get up. “He is here everyday, such excitement in a young boy, he’s a good brother” You chuckled at the thought. The religious visits from your brother in law were a joy, watching him cuddle and love his Niece. He was one of the few people you trusted to keep an eye on her while you used the restroom or made yourself some tea.

“He is a very good young man, just like Kyojuro. I feel lucky to have both of them.” Shinobu stood, stretching the last of the exhaustion out of her body.

“Have you eaten yet?” You shook your head, not looking up. “Go eat, there is fresh fruit from Tengen in there if you don’t want anything heavy, but you need to keep your strength up. It's only been two days since she was born, it takes a lot out of your body. I shall sit with her” You looked up, nodding in understanding. Creating life and bringing it into the world was by no means easy. It was soul wrenching, hot, unsettling, so painful. You felt so happy though, to have such helpful and dedicated friends who made it as smooth as it could have been. No complications, no accidents, it was all you could ask for. Well, maybe not all.

“Yes, That should be good. Sitting here all day waiting for him may drive me crazy” You laughed, getting up so Shinobu can take your seat.

You arrived back at the engawa not long after you left, deciding just to snack on the cherries and pears you had received from Tengen days ago. A gift for ‘good luck’ he mentioned, chuckling as he went on his way. Shinobu had moved from where she sat, walking around the yard as she cooed and whispered to your bundle of love. Her purple bangs were falling into Hinata’s face, a great toy for small curious hands as they walked.

“You will be bald before the sun is at its peak!” Shinobu looked up, a soft smile on her lips as she walked up to you, prying the small fingers from her hair.

“You might be right, she definitely is a strong little girl” You sat on the edge of the engawa, legs hanging off the side as you leaned to see your daughter. The wisps of blonde hair that lined her head were out of sorts, a mess, just like her fathers usually was. The yellow and pink blanket you had her swaddled in was slipping as she moved around in it, revealing more of her white onesie and her arms. She opened and closed her mouth, small gurgles coming from her as she reached out absently.

“I can’t get tired of looking at her, she brings me such joy. So beautiful, so perfect” You cooed, taking the bundle from Shinobu and laying her on your shoulder, rocking her back and forth. “She’s so warm too, so much like Kyojuro, He will be so ex-” Your sentence was cut short as the front gate creaked open, Senjuro poking his head in and smiling.

“Sis! You’ll never guess who I met on my way over!” He stepped inside your yard, opening the door more for the person with him. Kyojuro came in behind him, a Kakushi assisting him inside as he limped further into the yard. A large grin appeared on his paler face, cheeks darkening as he met your eyes.

“Sunflower” He breathed, trying to step forward, a hobble in his step. As you looked over him you noticed why he seemed to struggle. His arm that rested on his bandaged stomach, the bruises that lined it. He looked tired, thoroughly worn out from whatever it was that he had faced. His hair had been tied back, out of his face and the bandage that covered his left eye. Shinobu immediately ran over, assisting Kyojuro to waddle over the engawa, pained breaths escaping him with every step. He groaned as they helped him sit next to you, Senjuro taking his small amount of items from him and running them into the estate. “Hello” His smile didn’t leave his face as he turned to you, taking in the sight before him. The closer look you had at him made you want to cry. The dried blood that was peeking out from his bandaged eye, his bloodied and bruised knuckles as he moved to push your hair out of your face, his hand hovering over the bundle on your shoulder. You noticed, moving her so she laid in your arms, curious eyes meeting with Kyojuros as she also looked him over.

“Hinata” Was all you managed, watching as she reached out for her father, the unspoken bond between parents and their children already forming between them. He sucked in a breath, leaning closer to her.

“Hello sunshine, my pretty girl. I’m sorry I'm late, daddy was busy but now I'm here. I’m all yours now” he looked up, winking before he turned back to her wiggly body.

“Do you want to hold her?” He sat up straight, wincing.

“I don’t know if i can” He looked over at Shinobu and The kakushi who had moved to the side, talking about Kyojuros mission and condition.

“I’ll help” You stood, moving to stand in front of him. “Remember, support her head, and her butt, she's still getting that strength” You repeated the things Shinobu had told you as he hesitantly held out his hands, staring at her while you carefully placed her in them, hands hovering below.

“She’s so small, she looks like you” He looked up, tears forming in his eyes “She's perfect, i’m sorry i wasn’t here. When I got the letter, I-” He choked, looking back down as the cooing bundle. “I was so upset, but she is perfect. You did beautifully, look at her. So warm and perfect” He repeated it, chanting it to himself as he continued to look down at her.

“Y/N says she looks like you, she wants her to have your hair” Senjuro piped up from beside you, scaring you as you instinctively stepped back. “Her farts are gross though” He sat down next to his brother, wiggling his fingers in her face and making kissy noises. Kyojuro laughed, watching his brother enjoy his time with his daughter. Senjuro held his hands out, a silent question to hold her.

“I will allow it this once because I just got home and lack the proper strength, be calm Senjuro '' He chided, hands carefully moving her into Senjuro arms as the younger Rengoku cuddled her close to him. Kyojuro turned back to you, hands taking yours in his own.

“She’s beautiful, have you been well? Please sit with me” he pulled on your hands, moving you to sit on the other side of him.

“Shinobu has been taking very good care of me and Hinata. Between her, Senjuro, and Amanes letters I think we're being spoiled rotten” You smiled, pulling your hand out of his to cup his cheek, thumb running over the bandage on his face. “Are you okay? Maybe you should go rest for a bit, Visit Hinata more when you wash up and rest”

“I am better than before, knowing you are both doing so well. She is more than I could have hoped for, you both are, my two perfect people. My beautiful family.” He leaned into the palm of your hand, eyes fluttering shut as he took a deep breath. “I love coming home, but now I'm afraid I may never leave you two.” he chuckled, opening his eyes and turning to place a kiss on your palm.

“My flame, That's all I could ask for. Plus, I think Senjuro may try to steal her from us” He smiled again, nodding.