#he broke into 3 pieces that scattered across the room :(((

[what-even-is-sleep]

The lil’ guy I was making in the minutes when my students seemed to be handling their own projects well. (He ended up breaking right before I got him in the kiln).

@littleguysdaily

[dollfacefantasy]

I love your writing sm, it's just what I needed μ_μ Do you think you could write Leon being the father of reader's idiot ex who just broke up with her? Leon just wants to console her and the reader only thinks about all the sexual tension they had for a while and now they have nothing to stop them.

(sorry if my english is bad, luv ya)

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: your ex boyfriend's dad comforts you after you and his son breakup

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, age gap

word count: 5.3k

a/n: dilf leon you KNOW i love that. thank you so much for your request. i hope you like it! i used death island for the picture, but imagine leon in his late forties for this. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

Leon lets out a deep sigh as he yanks the keys out of the ignition and his car's engine fizzles out. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looks down at his lap. He takes another deep breath and shakes his head before looking out the window at your apartment building. He’d been told you lived on the fourth floor.

He opens the door next, stepping out into the cold air. The sun was nowhere to be found today, the sky completely masked by a collection of gray clouds. He walks around to the back of the car and pops the trunk open to collect the box of memories he’d been tasked with returning to you.

He didn’t understand how he’d ended up with this job. Despite his numerous daydreams he wished he could forget, you weren’t ever his girlfriend. He hadn’t been the one you’d come over to visit. You didn’t fall asleep in his room or wear his t-shirts or kiss him goodbye when you left. He hadn’t been the one to cheat on you or make you cry for days on end either. No. That’d been his son.

So why was he the one going out of his way to bring you this stuff? That was what he couldn’t comprehend.

Well that’s not exactly true. He comprehended just fine. His son planned on throwing out your stuff that’d been left at his house, remnants of your eight months together. Leon didn’t want that. He’d told his son to pack it up and take it to you like a man should. He had been the one in the wrong after all. But no, his son argued up and down, coming up with every reason under the sun as to why it was better to just throw it away. So Leon just gave up. He knew if he commanded it, his son would just shove your shit in a box and drive down the street to throw it from the window of his moving car. The car Leon paid for.

Truth be told, he always had a soft spot for you. A chamber of his heart that was coated in guilt, surrounded by denial, but internally the sweetest part of him. The one piece of his soul that saw some light in the world that had gone dark for him years ago. So just for you, Leon drove the thirty minutes to your complex to deliver your belongings.

He picks up the cardboard box and tucks it under his arm. The trunk slams with a loud thump, and he’s thinking of what he’s even going to say to you when you open the door. Come to think of it, he didn’t even know if you were home. He had a pretty good idea of your schedule from the time you’d spend on the phone with his son or at his house, but he didn’t even check to be sure.

In the midst of mentally scolding himself, the bottom of the box bursts, and your items go tumbling out onto the pavement. He tries to catch them, but his fingers just miss. Another sigh seeps from his lungs as he crouches down to scoop them up. He picks up a pink hoodie that’d been crumpled up at the foot of his son’s bed, a stuffed bear he saw him pull from the crack between the mattress and the wall, and a bracelet that laid abandoned on the nightstand. He collects other little pieces of you scattered across the damp concrete before managing to situate them in his arms and resume walking to you.

He tosses the broken box into the nearby trash before entering the building and going down the hall and to the elevator. From what he saw, the place was alright. You didn’t live in luxury, but he was relieved he wouldn’t be left worrying about your safety after he left.

The elevator glides up to your floor in total silence with him being the only one in the small space. The little ding that marks his arrival releases a burst of anxiety within him. He felt so dumb. He was nervous like he was your and his son’s age. He pushes those feelings away and gets himself to be normal, to act his age. All he had to do was knock, shove this shit in your arms, and leave.

On the way down the hall to your unit, he realizes this plan means this will probably be the last time he ever sees you. Spare some chance encounter at the grocery store, this would be the final time he’d feel your sweet eyes on him or see that timid smile when he complimented you. That made him sad to think about. He never thought you’d be a permanent fixture in his life. You and his son were young, and being the type of guy his son was, he doubted your relationship was destined to succeed. In honesty, he was shocked it lasted as long as it did. But now, the ending was real. Knowing the time with you in his life was coming to a close felt how the sky outside looked.

Once he reaches the door with your number on it, his fist taps the wood twice. He hears soft shuffling inside, followed by the sound of locks being undone a couple moments later. You crack the door open, standing there in your pajamas. Both your top and bottoms were plain gray. You looked worn down. He could tell you’d been crying. Poor baby.

Your tired eyes flicker with curiosity when they glance up at his face. 

“Mr. Kennedy?” you ask with confusion.

His mouth breaks into a charming grin upon hearing that. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leon before it sticks?” he teases.

“Sorry…” you say. You didn’t smile at his teasing like normal. Given the circumstances, he supposed that made sense. “What are you doing here?”

“I have some of your stuff you left at my house. Can I come in?” he asks.

Now your eyes flash with a brief spout of anger, but you still open the door wider for him to enter.

“He couldn’t bring it to me?” you ask with clear bitterness in your tone.

He cringes at the sound. What was he supposed to say? In reality, he was on your side, but wouldn’t it be wrong to tell you that? He loved his son. He really did. Even with all the mistakes he made and the flaws he’d caused the boy, he loved him. He probably shouldn’t talk shit about him with his ex-girlfriend.

But at the same time, it was you. You weren’t just some random ex-girlfriend. He’d known you for the better half of a year. You were sweet, actually polite enough to say hello when you came over. You could hold a conversation. And sure, it didn’t hurt any that you were cute too. He felt something strong for you. He just struggled to articulate exactly what that something was. He was tempted to say you’d become part of the family. That’s probably what plenty of others in his situation would say. But the shameful thoughts that plagued his mind when he was alone late at night begged to differ with that assessment

Right now, it didn’t look like you were doing well. He sees the setup you have for yourself on the couch. A heap of blankets, pushed and twisted up around the spot you’d clearly been laying before he interrupted. The curtains were drawn, it was dark in here. You didn’t need him to run defense for the guy who cheated on you, relations aside.

“Guess not,” is how he finally answers your question to which he’s met with a roll of your eyes.

“Of course,” you mutter while walking over to meet him at the counter so you can inspect your items after he puts them down.

You rifle through the different things, scanning them haphazardly before returning your disinterested gaze to him. Your arms cross over your chest, and you shrug.

“Thanks, I guess.”

You’re clearly expecting him to leave now. And he knows that’s what he should do. Awkwardly shuffle out the door with a small wave goodbye. He can’t though. Something inside him won’t let him pull away just yet.

“How have you been?” he starts tentatively, “Haven’t seen you in a few weeks.” 

“Fine… I guess,” you answer.

You guess. Again. A nervous tick. An indicator of deflection. You clearly didn’t want to delve into the inner workings of your broken heart with the father of the man responsible. He should back off. But he doesn’t.

“Are you sure? I know you two are broken up now or whatever you want to call it, but I still care about you, you know? You’re a sweet girl,” he starts, hating how this was coming out, “I just… I know how it is to feel alone. I don’t want that for you. If you need someone to talk to…”

“I should come to you? Is that it?” you say, a bit harsher than he would like.

“Well… yeah?” he responds.

You turn away, cutting him off from seeing your reactions. “That’s nice, Leon. But… I don’t think you’re the one I should talk to about any of this,” you say.

He takes a step closer, laying a cautious hand on your shoulder. “I think I’m the perfect one for you to talk to about this,” he says.

His reasoning is brief, but he doesn’t feel the need for more. Despite your resistance, the gears in your head are turning, deciding whether or not to take the offer. “There’s nothing to even talk about. It is what it is,” you reply. He can hear that characteristic softness returning to your voice.

“I don’t think that’s true. You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, getting even closer. He gently guides you back to the couch and clears some space for the two of you to sit. He directs your eyes back to him before he finishes speaking. “It’ll stay between us.”

You look up at him, sweet glossy eyes threatening to spill your emotions down your cheeks. He can see your apprehension, but in the end, you still decide to go for it.

“I just… I feel so dumb,” you start, biting your lip.

“You shouldn’t,” he tells you.

“But I do,” you say, voice becoming strained, “People told me he would do something like this, and I actually defended him. I’m so stupid, and everyone knows it now.”

While he wasn’t too pleased to learn of his son’s reputation, his sympathy for you overwhelms that. His hand rubs up and down your back as your head falls to your hands.

“Sweetheart…” he sighs, the term rolling out before he can stop himself, “It’s not your fault. It’s not a bad thing to be trusting.”

He sees your face tense as you lose the battle to hold your tears in. His heart aches seeing you look so defeated.

“Yes it is,” you cry, “I hate it.”

“Hey, c’mere,” he says and pulls you closer. He drapes his arm over your shoulder and holds you to his side. “Don’t talk like that about yourself, ok? Being cheated on doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.”

He felt slightly awkward considering the cheater in question is his own flesh and blood. The feeling of your soft body against him overrides that thought though. You’re still weeping into his chest, so he continues.

“Look, baby,” he says. Another pet name. His mind screams for him to get a grip. “I love my son, but… I know him too. He can be insensitive, and that’s not what a girl like you needs.”

You look up at him, interested in his potential point. In your eyes, he feels he can see his reflection glaring back at him with disapproval.

“You’re such a precious thing. Someone to be handled with care,” he whispers, stroking your jaw, “I don’t want this to take that from you.”

More tears roll down your cheeks while you take in his words. He swipes a couple away with his thumb as he talks to you.

“I’ve made a lot of mistakes. With my ex-wife, with my son, with my work. Christ, just with my life in general.” Why was he telling you this? “I look at you, and you remind me of who I was before those mistakes. I know stuff like this can make you bitter, and I just don’t want that to happen to you. You don’t need to blame yourself for what he did or try to keep how you feel inside. Once you get past this, you’re gonna move onto something better for you. I just don’t want you to forget that.”

He watches your lip quiver harder before the floodgates finally burst. Now that he’d given you permission, you don’t hold back. A sob tumbles from your lips. He immediately goes to pull you closer again, but this time you take it upon yourself. His eyes widen as you scoot into his lap.

It’s as if he acts on instinct though. As soon as you have your face buried against his throat, his arms loop around you in return. One hand rubs the expanse between your shoulder blades while the other simply supports the small of your back.

“Sweet baby…” he whispers.

“He told me he loved me,” you weep. He can feel your warm tears dripping down his skin now.

“I’m sure he did, honey,” he says and rocks back and forth with you a bit.

Now you really unload. You cry against him about basically every wrongdoing his son had committed in your time together. He compared you to other girls, told you that you were too needy, forgot your birthday. And Leon listens to it all, not playing devil’s advocate even once.

Guilt burns hot in his chest though. Nevertheless, he tries to convince himself that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just helping a poor, hurting girl in need. But that excuse crumbles when he simply thinks about what his son would say to the sight of his ex-girlfriend curled up on his father’s lap, clinging to him like he was her new man.

His mind continued trying to justify this anyways, putting forth the idea that this was out of his control. He was powerless when it came to situations like this. The life he led so far had wired a savior complex into his brain. He couldn’t resist you, another princess he could restore to her pedestal.

That was definitely part of why he didn’t put you back on the couch and slowly begin to make an exit. The other part was less honorable. Despite his mind’s ideas of noble motivations, deep down he knew part of this was selfishness. Being human, he wasn’t gonna complain about a pretty young girl warming his lap. And being himself, he certainly wasn’t going to complain because that girl happened to be you. The guilt he felt faded instantly with one look at your doe face or one word from your tender voice.

“None of that is your fault,” he comforts you once you finish your list and breaks away from his thoughts, “You didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I know…” you whimper before another sob comes from you, “I hate him so much. But it’s even worse cause I still miss him.”

That shoots a sharp pang of jealousy through his heart to which he mentally slaps himself. God, you made him feel pathetic, but in a way he didn’t want to admit, that was part of the appeal. He holds you tighter and nuzzles the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

“That’s ok. It’s only natural,” he coos and continues soothing you.

“Why do I miss him? How do I make it stop?” you cry, your voice cracking.

Fuck. You really did remind him of himself which only made this more twisted. He knew what you were feeling so well. That longing ache that festers inside until you feel like clawing your skin off and prying your ribs apart to purge yourself of the infection. He sighs and shifts you on his thigh, pulling you closer to him.

“You can’t make it go away. You know that. It’s a time-heals-all-wounds situation, sweetheart. Just gotta wait it out, but it’ll get better,” he says.

Then he must have truly gone over the edge because he leans in and presses a faint kiss to your hairline. Luckily for him, you don’t protest. Instead, it draws more tears from you. Your arms lock around him and pull the rest of your body closer

“I just feel empty, and I don’t know why. He wasn’t that great… no offense,” you sniffle.

“None taken,” he says softly, a small smile rising on his lips. He keeps rubbing your back, resting his head on top of yours. “Most breakups hurt, even when you’ve run the course of the relationship. It’s not fun losing someone.”

It wouldn’t be fun losing you. That was for fucking sure. He was only making it worse for himself by doing all this. At this point, he wasn’t sure how he’d manage to tear himself away once you stopped crying.

“I guess,” you whimper, lip puffing out into a sweet pout he’d only ever seen as a joke before.

“You’re such a sensitive girl, honey. So delicate,” he murmurs against your hair. He knows he should stop. He’s toeing the borderline, but it’s all he can do to keep himself from hurdling over it at full force.

“I’m overdramatic,” you correct.

He scoffs, dismissing your claim. “Did someone tell you that? Because they don’t know what they’re talking about. You’re precious,” he whispers with another kiss to your head.

That word seems to strike something in you. Your crying that had been dwindling seems to soften down to an occasional ragged breath. You look up at him with your watery eyes. He continues to push away remaining tears on your cheeks before running his knuckles down your jaw.

As he looks into your eyes, the temptation becomes irresistible. He needs you.

“Sweet thing like you… you need someone who can understand you, protect those feelings of yours, not make you feel bad about ‘em,” he says, his thumb dragging over your chin.

“You think so?” you ask.

“Oh yeah. There’s nothing wrong with wearing your heart on your sleeve,” he says teasingly, “All it means is that you care. Plus, this may be just me, but I think it’s pretty cute.”

Your teary eyes widen just the slightest amount, and your hips squirm a bit on his lap. You look down at your fingers fidgeting with one another.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly.

“I do. You’re so pretty when you cry, baby,” he mutters and lifts your chin to get you to look at him again, “You have puppy eyes, just begging for some love.”

A shy smile starts spreading on your face. Your eyes cast down, and he knows he’s got you hooked. Now he just has to reel you in.

“Yeah, you know it’s true,” he whispers and leans in to kiss your cheeks, “Bet you have a lot of fun using ‘em on people.”

“No,” you say timidly, eyes glancing back up at him.

“Oh, of course not. A little angel like you would never take advantage,” he teases. He kisses across your cheek bone to your temple, and then moves his lips down to where your jaw meets your neck. He can hear your breath hitching. His hands pull you closer to his body, feeling your warmth up against him. One slides to your side, rubbing up and down slowly.

“That’s why you need to be taken care of,” he breathes against your skin, “Let me take care of you, baby.”

You nod with no hesitation on your part. He can tell from the breath you let out that you're giving into some temptations of your own. Your head leans in and he ducks down to connect your lips, nearly groaning as he feels the plush flesh press against him. The kisses start off tender, just little pecks as you explore the feeling of each other. But they soon grow in passion. Your mouths open against each other. Your tongues meet, and spit coats one another's lips. You’re both breathing heavier.

He pulls back to look at you, those eyes he had been going on about now clouded with lust. Moving in for a few more, he cups your face. “You like that?” he murmurs.

“Mhm,” you hum, reciprocating the affection. 

He chuckles as you move in even closer, the swell of your breasts pushing up against his chest. His hands squeeze your waist and turn you around so your back is to his front, your head tilted on his shoulder.

“Pretty baby, so eager for me,” he coos as his hands smooth up your stomach to your chest. He fondles your tits through your top, feeling their entirety since you weren’t wearing a bra.

The softest noise of satisfaction leaves you, and you nip at his lips. He deepens the kiss in response, groping you a bit harder. Your hands travel South to his belt, attempting to undo behind your back, but his hand drops and grabs your wrists.

“Not yet,” he corrects with a kiss to your temple, “There’s no rush. I want to take my time with you. Warm you up like you deserve.”

His mouth envelopes yours again while his hand releases your wrists and returns to your breast. He can feel your nipples perking up in anticipation. His cock starts to do the same beneath you. As you feel it, you roll your ass back against him, providing some friction. He smiles against your lips, the prior reservations he had about this leaving his mind one by one.

Maneuvering his palms between your thighs, his fingers coast up and down the sensitive skin. His mouth trails down to your neck to kiss you there, sucking soft love bites onto your throat. You’re single now. It’s not like you’d have to hide them.

He parts your legs a bit more before cupping them underneath and pulling you down so that you’re at an angle where he can remove the fluffy pajama pants that kept him from his target. You watch the soft fabric fall away and crumple up on the floor. You’re a little jittery as he exposes your skin now. This is real, no longer a far-fetched fantasy.

His hand is on your pussy in seconds, stroking you through the thin cotton that covers it. The kisses to your throat don’t stop, and his free hand keeps you in place on his lap.

“Those college boys you’ve been running around with are too busy thinking with their dicks. They don’t know what to do with a prize like you,” he murmurs and drags his nose up the curve of your face.

He chooses to forget the fact that the boy you had been running around with was his son. That didn’t need to matter right now. All that mattered was the whimper that fell from you, the way your hair felt against the crook of his neck. His fingers play with you a little more before sliding into your panties.

“Aw, you’re already getting wet, hm?” he purrs, “Precious girl. Probably so pent up. Never been properly fucked the way you shoulda been.”

You nod and turn your head to look into his eyes. He takes the chance to kiss you again, working his mouth with yours while his fingers coasted through your folds.

“Need you to make it better,” you mumble against his lips.

You feel his smirk and how he kisses with increased fervor. The pads of his fingers swirl around your clit, eliciting a tiny gasp from you.

“Not a problem, baby. You’re not leaving my lap till you can’t remember why you were crying in the first place,” he whispers.

You sigh with content and resume languidly making out. His fingertips are rough on the smooth skin of your center, dragging over your sweet spots with the best friction you’d ever felt. Your body arches into his touch. You actually want more. A refreshing feeling for you.

He continues focusing on your sensitive bundle of nerves, flicking over it, pressing small circles into it, swiping down across it. Occasionally, he’d massage lower, teasing your entrance and feeling the arousal pooling from his actions.

“You like how I’m playing with you? Feel good having that clit touched? It’s so sensitive, just like the rest of you,” he breathes.

You nod again,  a desperate whine unraveling out of you. He chuckles and speeds up his fingers.

“I knew you would. You’re beyond the little boys who thrust a few times and leave you wanting for more. Think it’s pretty obvious you need a real man,” he says.

He didn’t even know where half this stuff was coming from, but he wasn’t gonna launch an investigation into it. It worked for you, so it was working for him.

Your hips buck as he maintains a steady pace and even amount of pressure. He rubbed you just the way you liked, as if he knew your body on an instinctual level.

“You’re gonna cum just from my fingers. You can do it. Have you gushing already before I slip my cock in you,” he murmurs against your skin.

His fingers have started making wet noises as they slide up and down on your cunt. You mewl and tense up, relishing the pleasure he brought you. You whimper out his name quietly, over and over. Leon. Specifically him.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Who’s the one making you feel so good? Who’s the one you’ve needed all along?”

You gasp it again for him. Leon.

“Good girl,” he growls.

He moves his fingers with more precision and dedication, taking you right to the blissful edge and letting you crash over it. Watching how your body writhes on his lap, he holds you through it. He makes sure to keep you up right.

You feel lightning strike within you, the storm of euphoria swirling in the pit of your stomach. You let go all over his fingers, and thoroughly coat his hand with your release. He goes in for more, sliding his fingers down as if they’re going to dip inside you, but you whine in protest.

“Leon… don’t wanna wait anymore,” you whimper.

He chuckles at your impatience and shakes his head.

“You talk about it like you’ve been waiting forever when it’s only been a couple minutes,” he teases.

“Feels like forever,” you pout.

He kisses your frown and pulls your underwear off completely. He then turns you around on his lap to face him.

“You ready for the real thing then?” he breathes, smirking at your quick confirmation.

He boosts his hips off the couch and shoves his pants down enough so that his cock can spring free. It bobs up in anticipation. His hand grasps it, sliding it against your entrance. 

After a few teasing swipes, he sinks you down on it, savoring every small change in your expression. Your eyes flutter, your mouth lolls open slightly, your brows furrow.

“Oh, I can tell that’s what you’ve been needing,” he whispers, guiding your hips into a rhythm.

You bounce up and down on him, breathy moans escaping you with each rise and fall.

“Mhm, wanted it for so long,” you whine.

His eyebrow raises at that. “Yeah?” he grunts, sharply inhaling as you squeeze around him, “How long? How bad did you want it?”

“So bad. Wanted it for months,” you confess as your head falls back, “Wanted to be yours instead.”

He knows he’s going to hell for the rush of satisfaction that floods his veins. He doesn’t falter though, just pulls you closer and starts thrusting up into you.

“Oh, did you? Dirty secret, baby, but I can’t say I didn’t feel the same way,” he moans before reconnecting his mouth with yours, “Sweet baby like you, wanted you to be all mine.”

A quick moan leaves you, and you keep riding. Your hips roll up and down, working him as deep into you as he can go. Your arousal drips down his heavy balls, making a mess where the two of you connect.

“Dreamed about you sometimes,” you gasp, letting it all out.

His eyes droop with more desire. They shouldn’t, but your revelations only spurred him on. He thrusts up harder and digs his fingers into the flesh of your hips.

“Yeah? Bet you felt so guilty waking up soaked between your legs for someone you couldn’t have,” he says, vision trained on you, “I felt the same way. Hard as a rock for you and no relief.”

“Now there is,” you whimper as you lean down and nuzzle your face against his.

With hot breaths in each other's face, you both feel the cords of release being pulled taut. You bite your lip, and he cages you in against his body, keeping you flush against him.

“Even with that dirty little secret, you’re still such a good girl. Need you to be my good girl,” he mumbles in your ear before moaning, hips tensing as he feels the sweeping sense of euphoria.

You nod dumbly as your own high creeps up on you. “Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,” you whine before burying your face into his shoulder. Your hands clutch at his biceps, digging little crescents into the muscle.

He fucks you through it, making you see stars and keeping them suspended in your sights. You cling to him and clamp around him. His thrusts get sloppy, but he won’t stop until you’re coming down. That’s when he finally pulls out and gives himself a few strokes to completion, finishing on your ass. He figured you were on the pill, but he wasn’t going to make a riskier chance an even bigger risk.

You feel the warm liquid dripping down the curve of your ass. You’re too fucked out to be concerned with clean up right now though. He smiles down at you and gives you some kisses as a way to cool you off.

Reaching over to the end table, he grabs a few tissues and swipes away the small mess on your backside. After some more soothing affection, the two of you briefly readjust your clothing and get comfy with each other again. He figured this probably wasn’t the best thing he could be doing in this situation. He just fucked his son’s ex and now he was going to cuddle her too? But he does it anyway because it was what you needed, and that was his mind’s priority at the moment.

He thinks about leaving though, reverting to the original plan. He could let you doze off and just slip away. But he doesn’t. You’re too sweet, and you’re hurting. He didn’t want to pile on, but the idea that this shouldn’t develop into more than a passionate fuck still lingers in his mind..

That is until he hears your voice.

“Are you gonna leave?” you ask softly.

He looks down, heart aching at the sight of you.

“Not yet,” he answers.

“Ok good,” you say and sink into him again, “I might need you again later. In case I get sad again.”

He rolls his eyes at your attempt to play innocent. “Guess I’m stuck here then. Can’t have you crying all alone,” he says.

“Mhm,” you hum, leaning up to give him a kiss. One of the sweetest kisses he’d ever had. And just like that, you’re luring him back in.

“You know… maybe I should be proactive, make sure you don’t get the chance to be sad again today…” he murmurs, shifting to lay down on the couch and give you some kisses of his own. “Think you need some more distracting.”

He was done for.

[mariasont]

Our Minds Entwined------------------------

ch 1, ch 2, ch 3, ch 4, ch 5

Aaron Hotchner x Original Character x Spencer Reid

in which jason gideon's daughter joins the fbi as the newest youngest member

The clock struck midnight, its chimes echoing softly though the BAU's office, a space usually buzzing with the day's urgency now settled into a rare stillness, broken by the occasional shuffle of feet or the muted ring of a phone quickly silenced.

Evelyn, her silhouette illuminated by the soft luminescence of the computer screen, was a portrait of focus. Her eyes, reflecting the screen's pale blue light, moved rapidly as she scanned the data before her. Stray locks of hair framed her face, a few rebellious strands occasionally obscuring her view, only to be tucked behind an ear with an absent-minded brush of her hand.

Her desk was a landscape of organized chaos, with documents cascading over one another and colorful pens scattered across the wood. Her fingers, poised gracefully above the keyboard, were a study of precision, each keystroke a deliberate and thoughtful action.

The office around her was still, save for the soft hum of machinery and the distant sound of a siren that wailed briefly before fading into the night. The air was heavy with the scent of coffee, long gone cold, and the faintest hint of ink and toner.

Across the room, Reid's silhouette was framed by the window, his tall figure bent over a table littered with files. The faint light from the streetlamps outside filtered through, illuminating his furrowed brow as he pieced together profiles with the meticulous care of an artist.

Their interactions were sparse, limited to the necessary exchange of information, yet there was a comfort in the shared silence, a mutual understanding that words were superfluous when the work demanded their all.

Evelyn rose from her desk, stretching slightly to ease the stiffness in her back. She gathered a stack of papers, the edges crisp and cool against her fingers, and made her way to the copy machine nestled in the corner of the office.

Reid, his attention usually locked within the realm of profiles and patterns, found his gaze inadvertently drawn to Evelyn as she bent over to load the papers into the feeder, her hips jutted out, her ass perfectly outlined by her skirt. Her body was a rare lapse in his concentration, one that left him momentarily disarmed.

"Uh, need a hand with that?" Reid's voice broke the silence, a touch of hesitance threading through his usual calm as he diverted his gaze from her ass.

Evelyn looked up, a hint of surprise flickering across her face. "Actually, yes. It's being stubborn," she replied, her tone laced with mild frustration as the machine gave a disgruntled beep and ceased operation.

Reid crossed the room, his steps measured, the soft carpet muffling his approach. He stood beside her, their shoulders almost touching, as he examined the rebellious machine. "Sometimes it just needs a little...," he began, reaching out to navigate the copier's cryptic buttons.

Before he could finish, the office plunged into darkness, a power outage seizing the building in its sudden grip. The hum of the machinery died, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

"Spencer?" Evelyn's voice cut through the darkness, tinged with confusion and an instinctive reach for familiarity. Her hands, almost on their own accord, reached out into the void, fingers splayed in search of the tangible reassurance of her surroundings.

In the sudden stillness, Evelyn's breath hitched as she felt the unexpected warmth of Spencer's hands on her hips. His touch was gentle yet firm, a steadying presence that grounded her in the enveloping darkness. The soft fabric of her skirt offered little barrier to the heat of his palms, and she could feel the contours of his fingers pressing against her.

Spencer's front was close, so close that she could sense the line of his body against her back without either of them moving. It was an intimate proximity that had never shared, his chest almost brushing against her as they both paused in the unexpected closeness.

Evelyn's heart raced, not from fear of the dark, but from the sudden heat she felt. His presence was like a solid pillar, and for a moment, she leaned back ever so slightly, drawn by the comfort of his nearness. The air around them seemed to thrum with a new energy.

As quickly as the moment came, it passed, and they stepped away from each other, the space crackling between them with an unspoken tension.

"Sorry," Spencer's voice was a hushed murmur in the darkness, a soft admission that seemed louder in the silence.

Evelyn's response came quickly. "It's okay," she said. In the pitch-black office, Evelyn was acutely aware of the warmth spreading across her cheeks. "It's just... dark."

Her body shouldn't be reacting this way, she chided herself silently. He was a colleague, maybe a friend, and yet the fluttering in her stomach contradicted her rational thoughts. The darkness concealed her flushed face, but it couldn't hide the quickening of her pulse or the confusion that clouded her mind.

Evelyn's voice broke through the silence again, this time with a note of practically. "The doors... they're badge-operated," she stated, more to herself than to Spencer. The fact was a simple one, but it served as a necessary anchor, pulling her thoughts away from the lingering warmth of his touch.

Reid's mind, ever analytic, race through their options. "The backup generator should kick in, but it might be a few minutes," he said, trying to sound reassuring.

They moved together, almost instinctively, toward the door. Evelyn's fingers fumbled along the wall, seeking the familiar contour of the switch, though she knew it was futile. Reid, meanwhile, pulled out his phone, the dim glow casting shadows as he tried to illuminate their path.

The badge reader beside the door was unresponsive, it's usual green light extinguished. They exchanged a look, an unspoken agreement passing through them for a moment. They were indeed stuck, at least for the moment.

The stillness of the office felt different now, charged with the intimacy of shared confinement. They retreated from the doors, finding their way back to the center of room. "Guess we wait,"

"Or we could call Hotch. That man never sleeps." With a resigned sigh, he pulled out his phone and dialed. The call rang persistently, but there was no answer.

Spencer ended the call, a hint of frustration in his eyes. "No answer," he said, turning to Evelyn. "Maybe you should try."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on her lips. "What, and shatter the myth that Aaron Hotchner actually needs sleep like the rest of us mortals? Fine, I'll give it a shot."

She dialed the number, half-expecting it to go to voicemail. To her surprise, Hotch picked up almost immediately. "Hotch? It's Evelyn. Evelyn Gideon. I... uh, didn't actually think you'd answer."

"Yes, Evelyn I know it's you. Is everything alright?" Hotch's voice was calm, a stark contrast to the fluttering in Evelyn's stomach.

"We're locked in the building. The power is off and the badge reader's down and... well, we're stuck here," she confessed, her words more measured than she felt.

"I'll be there in ten," Hotch replied without missing a beat, and the line went dead.

Evelyn turned to Spencer, her earlier confidence replaced with a sheepish grin. "Okay, now we wait."

Spencer leaned against his desk, his eyes reflecting a hint of amusement. "You know, it's probably just the novelty of not hearing my extensive use of statistics in casual conversation. Hotch might've thought it was a prank call."

Evelyn's laughter filled the room, a sound that seemed foreign in the usually somber office. "Speaking of, what's the statistic of getting locked in the office with a power outage?"

Spencer glanced at her, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "Well, actually, it's quite rare. The probability is less than 0.005% on any given day."

Her laughter grew louder, and she shook her head in disbelief. "Spencer, I wasn't being serious."

He smiled, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than necessary. "No, I know that," he said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But you have to admit, it's an interesting statistic."

Evelyn hopped up onto the desk, crossing her legs as she faced Spencer. The conversation flowed easily between them, filled with light banter that had become their unique way of coping with the stress of the job.

"So, Dr. Reid," Evelyn began, a teasing tone in her voice, "if you're so good with statistics, what are the odds of us getting out of here before we turn into BAU office decorations?"

Spencer chuckled, adjusting his glasses. "Well, considering Hotch's driving skills and disregard for traffic laws when it comes to his team, I'd say the odds are in our favor."

As they laughed, Spencer's hand accidentally brushed against Evelyn's leg. The contact was brief, but it was enough for him to notice the smoothness of her skin. He quickly retracted his hand, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

Before either could comment, the lights flickered back to life, bathing the room in a harsh fluorescent glow. The badge reader beside the door beeped, its green light signaling the return of power.

The door swung open, and Hotch stepped in, his expression of concern and mild irritation. "I see the power's back," he said, surveying the scene before him. "You two alright?"

Evelyn slid off the desk, smoothing out her skirt. "We're fine, Hotch. Just enjoying some... statistical analysis with Reid."

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on Evelyn for a moment. He nodded once, before turning to leave the room.

Spencer, curiosity piqued, hurried after Hotch. "Hey, Hotch," he called out, catching up. "Why didn't you answer my call?"

Evelyn, left alone by the desk, couldn't help but giggle. She quickly gathered her belongings, the recent events still playing in her mind like a curious melody. She slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the exit, her steps echoing softly in the now-quiet office.

As she rounded a corner, she collided with a figure emerging from the shadows. "Oh shoot, sorry," he exclaimed, taking a step back.

The man she bumped into was tall, with a friendly smile that reached his eyes. "No harm done," she said, his voice smooth and reassuring. "You're Evelyn, right? From the BAU? I'm Daniel, from the Counterterrorism Division."

Evelyn nodded, a little taken aback by the recognition. "Nice to meet you, Daniel. I didn't expect to run into anyone else here so late."

Daniel's grin widened. "Yeah, the hours can be unpredictable. But it's all in a day's work, right?"

Evelyn returned the smile. "Absolutely, makes the job all the more interesting." She glanced at her watch, groaning in her head at how late it was. "Well, I should head out. Early start tomorrow and all that."

"Of course," Daniel replied. "It was nice running into you, Evelyn. Maybe I'll see you around."

With a final nod, Evelyn turned and walked away. She stepped out into the cool air, the parking lot bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. She noticed two familiar cars: Spencer's old sedan and Hotch's study SUV. As she made her way to her car, Spencer's vehicle started up, and he drove past her, offering a small nod.

She then spotted Hotch, sitting in his SUV, his silhouette unmistakable. "Hotch?" she called out, approaching the vehicle with a curious tilt of her head.

The window rolled down, and Hotch looked at her, his face a mask of casual vigilance. "Just making sure you get to your car safely," he said, his voice carrying a subtle warmth reserved for his team.

Evelyn laughed softly, the sound carrying in the stillness. "Aw Hotch, playing the knight in shining armor?"

He cracked a rare, half-smile. "Well, considering you've attracted more trouble in your first week than most agents do in a year, I thought it prudent to stick around."

She shook her head, still smiling. "I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you."

Hotch nodded, his gaze lingering for a moment longer. "Just try to avoid any more late-night lock-ins, okay?"

She laughed, the sound crisp in the night air. "I'll do my best. Goodnight, Hotch."

"Goodnight, Evelyn. Drive safe."

With a final nod, Evelyn turned and walked to her car.

Evelyn arrived at her home, a pristine two-story house that exuded classic charm. The white paint glowed under the moonlight, and the dark roofing added a touch of elegance. Each dormer window was adorned with pastel flowers.

Inside, she moved gracefully, her high heels clicking on the hardwood as she placed her bag down. The day's tensions melting away as she slipped into her silky pajama, the fabric gliding over her skin like a gentle caress. As she settled into bed, the softness of the sheets a welcome contrast to the day's harshness, her phone rang. It was Spencer, his voice a soothing presence in the quiet of the night.

"Hey, Evelyn, just wanted to make sure you got home safely," he said.

Evelyn settled deeper into her pillows, a smile playing on her lips. "I did, thanks. But you know, you don't have to worry. Statistically speaking, the likelihood of encountering danger on a short drive within one's own neighborhood is quite low."

There was a pause, and then Spencer's voice returned, laced with his characteristic blend of humor and fact. "Well, actually, while the probability is low, it's never zero. For example, did you know that--"

Evelyn cut him off with a light-hearted laugh. "Spencer, I know whatever you're going to say is not going to be exactly a comforting bedtime statistic."

"I suppose not." He laughed, the sound warm in her ear.

"Thanks for the check-in, Dr. Reid. I'll see you tomorrow," Evelyn said, her voice tinged with amusement.

"See you tomorrow, Evelyn. And remember, statistically, your bed is the safest place you can be right now." Spencer added before saying goodnight.

Evelyn ended the call with a soft laugh, feeling a sense of warmth flood her body as she caught herself smiling into her pillow. The night was quiet, and for once, the statistics were in her favor.

you guys!!!!!! the support on this is unreal, ugh love u all <3 i also want to start writing drabbles, one-shots, etc. SOOO if you have any requests shoot me a message <3

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

next

taglist: @nonamevenus

[maliciouslove]

𝔼𝕏𝕋ℝ𝔸ℂ𝕌ℝℝ𝕀ℂ𝕌𝕃𝔸ℝ 𝔸ℂ𝕋𝕀𝕍𝕀𝕋𝕀𝔼𝕊

NSFW—college AU, aged up characters (21+) || minors, ageless and/or empty blogs DO NOT INTERACT!

pairing // itadori yuuji x professor!reader 

summary // you’re having a particularly rough week and your student yuuji’s childish and nonchalant behaviour towards his failing grades and missing assignments is simply the last straw, forcing you to snap and teach the brat a lesson. for some extra credit, of course. :)

word count // 5.1k

tags // power imbalance, mean dom!reader, sub!yuuji, dubcon (tagging non-con just in case), forced masturbation (m!receiving), blackmail, recorded masturbation (m!receiving), cockwarming a dildo (m!receiving), little to no preparation penetration (m!receiving) sexual favours for extra credit, oral (f!receiving), dacryphilia, slight degradation, humiliation, praise, use of the title ‘professor’,  hair pulling, spit as lube, cum play, unprotected sex, creampie

AN // and the reposting continues! reading this again reminded me that i love writing submissive men. a very long time ago @/cyancherub beta read this for me, and I am still eternally grateful :) <3

You’ve been having a very shit week so far—your car broke down on Monday and the guys at the repair shop told you it’s going to be at least three days before it’s fixed, and the price they charged for their services also didn’t help with your mood. 

Furthermore, on Tuesday you found out your health insurance claim didn’t go through, adding yet another expense that you have to worry about. Your poor wallet can’t handle all the damage it’s taking. 

You would think you could’ve gotten some peace and quiet when you got home on Wednesday, but no—you walked into your apartment only to find your new couch and all the pillows completely destroyed by your dog. Pillow filling and pieces of cloth scattered all across the living room as your dog was now laying in his bed, looking up at you innocently, as if he didn’t just destroy an extremely expensive couch. 

Thursday was no breeze either, as you started your day by spilling a venti sized caramel macchiato all over your white dress shirt. Walking into your meeting with the dean of the school covered in coffee was embarrassing enough, but when he started chewing you out for the low grade point average in your class, you were just about ready to cry. 

But you clenched your fists and bit your tongue, refusing to show weakness to anyone. It was just a bad week, it too would pass. 

There is only one day of the week left, and after that, you can indulge yourself over the weekend and take time to relax and de-stress. Only Friday left… but boy, you’re not looking forward to this Friday. Why?

Because you have to teach a class with him—Itadori Yuuji, your most annoying student. Yuuji is by no means unintelligent or incapable, no—but he is, however, an asshole. A petulant child that firmly believes he can get away with anything simply because he is handsome and charming. He is the type of guy to enter the classroom 20 minutes late and simply smile and wink at you; no apology, no explanation. Just a cocky 24-karat smile. He talks loud, voices all of his opinions, and doesn’t really care about anyone or anything. 

Now apparently he has decided to stop handing in his assignments, which in turn creates another problem for you. You could, of course, choose to ignore him and simply let him flunk, but that would mean two things: first, he would have to repeat the class, meaning you would have to see more of him, and second, it would give the dean one more reason to be angry with you and punish you for “bringing down the grade average of the entire institution”. 

So this Friday you’re planning on pulling him aside after class and having a serious discussion with him about his grades and work ethic. You have been lenient enough with him over the past few months, choosing to ignore his attitude and simply focus your attention on the students who actually wanted to be there, but that has to come to an end. What you’re less willing to admit to yourself, is that you’re very anxious about the conversation you’ll have with him. What will you say? What if he mocks you? What if he keeps that irritating everything-is-a-joke attitude? But the scariest thought of all: What if I finally snap? Maybe I should teach that little brat a lesson. 

So here you are, laying in your bed awake way past your bedtime, anxiously pondering over the events that might unfold tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day. 

2:37 PM

The days are surely growing shorter and colder. Grey clouds are hanging heavy over your head, ready to rain down on you any moment now. There are 23 minutes left until class begins, so you grab a quick cup of coffee to go and you head on over to the classroom, mulling over what to say to Yuuji, practising different scenarios in your head. For some reason, the majority of these scenarios end up with Yuuji tied up and sobbing, spanked raw and begging for forgiveness. You shake your head, trying to get rid of these thoughts. Trying to shake away the urge to break the strawberry-haired man. He would look so cute crying though. 

By the time class starts at 3:00 PM you’re halfway through your coffee, slightly starting to regret having more than two cups that day because it’s making you antsy. You take a final sip and greet your students, making a mental note of the fact that for once Yuuji is on time. The lesson goes smoothly, but you can’t help noticing that Yuuji never seems to be paying attention; never really even looking towards the big screen behind you where important slides containing assignment details were shown. Almost like he’s avoiding looking at you. 

Finally, class is over, the room filling with the sounds of chairs being pulled and students chatting amongst each other. You call Yuuji over, secretly glad that none of the other students are paying attention and simply rolling out of the classroom one by one. Itadori slings his backpack over his shoulder and saunters over to your desk, hands in his pockets, a certain pep in his step. 

“Whaddup, Y/N?” he grins, not a care in the world.

“It’s miss L/N to you. And I need to speak with you about your last assignment, the one you never handed in.” You don’t even look up from the pile of papers on your desk that you were busying yourself with in an attempt to remain composed. 

“Oh yeaaah, there was an assignment, wasn’t there? Oops.” His stupid smile never falters. The irritation is bubbling in your chest and it tastes bitter in your mouth; the papers in your hands crinkle under the force of your fingers. 

“Yup, there was, and it was worth 40% of your final grade. That means you are facing the possibility of failing this class, Mr. Itadori.” Your voice is cold and calculated, all traces of irritation erased—you’re all business. You are his teacher, you need to keep things professional, no room for emotions, especially emotions that will not improve the situation in any way, such as anger. 

You finally look up at the strawberry-haired boy, only to find him staring, but not at you. His brown eyes were fixated on the collar of your tight shirt, the top two buttons undone, showing off your soft skin and collarbones. The shirt itself doesn’t reveal a lot, but it’s tight, the outline of your bra quite visible up close. He swallows and looks away quickly, but not fast enough for you to not notice his quite obvious interest. 

“I’m sorry Mr. Itadori, are my breasts more interesting to you right now?” You arch an eyebrow, the irritation that was growing inside of you finally reaching your voice too. The audacity this brat has.  

“I- no... I- m’sorry” he stutters. Yuuji Itadori, Mr. Charming and Almighty, was flustered. How interesting. The scenarios your mind conjured earlier are suddenly flooding your brain again and you can’t help but wonder… could you make him even more flustered? 

“Listen here Yuuji, this is basically sexual harassment, you know. I’m trying to help you here, have a serious conversation about your situation, yet all you can do is stare at my tits. Now, what do you think I should do about this, hm?” 

He opens his mouth in an attempt to say something, to argue, to come up with some witty comeback—yet no sound comes out. After a long, uncomfortable pause he finally mumbles a barely audible m’sorry, fixating his gaze on the floor. Some sick, twisted part of you finds this adorable. The corners of your lips curve upwards just barely. 

“What exactly are you sorry for, Yuuji?” There is a teasing lilt to your voice, the use of his first name completely throwing him off guard. He looks at you with big eyes, once again unable to form a response.

“For, uh- … for always staring at you inappropriately.. a-and fantasizing.” He gulps loudly, mouth suddenly feeling all too dry. His little confession is a surprise to you, but you don’t let it show. You maintain a neutral face, studying him closely. You can see him get even more nervous under your gaze. 

“Always?” you pause, eyebrow raised quizzically. “Fantasizing?” tilting your head slightly to the side, your eyes never leave his. Your presence only grows, asserting its dominance over his. The boy that usually towers over you and always has a carefree, happy-go-lucky attitude, suddenly looks very small to you. A blush is creeping up his neck and cheeks, proof that he really is feeling flustered. 

“Huh.. so you fantasize about your teacher?” you smirk, several sinister ideas flooding your brain as you look at the boy in front of you shrink even more. “You can get in a lot of trouble for this… Mr. Itadori.” Gracefully you get out of your chair, moving to sit at the end of your desk, shortening the distance between you and your student. “If word got out, administration would have to remove you from my class—you would lose all credits you’ve obtained thus far in my class and you would have to pick a different course in order to obtain those credits again.” Your eyes travel up his body, slowly, undressing him in your mind. “That would be a lot of work, Mr. Itadori. Don’t you think?”

Not trusting his ability to speak right now, he simply nods. There is apprehension in his eyes, but also curiosity.  

“Perhaps we can work this out? Resolve our… conflict, as to avoid getting administration involved.” 

You hear the gears turning in his head, mulling over all the possibilities, mind racing and his heart pounding loudly in his chest. “Resolve… how?” 

You can barely contain yourself at how small his voice is, how unsure. The boy that usually gleamed with confidence and strides down the corridors as if he owns them is suddenly unable to look you straight in the eye. 

“Well, Mr. Itadori, I am a teacher after all. I think it would be best if I teach you a lesson about how it feels to be objectified. To be seen as nothing more than a pretty face, or hot body.” Your hand darts forward, now toying with the hem of his shirt. Yuuji is holding his breath as if the tiniest movement could drive you away. “Relax, Mr. Itadori, it’s just a lesson. You will benefit from it. Just do as I tell you and this little incident will be forgotten.” You pull him in by the collar of his t-shirt, his face now inches away from yours. A coy smile plays on your lips as you practically feast over the expression painted on his face at this moment. Surprise, desire and fear mixed all together, making his coffee-coloured eyes water slightly. But a breathy okay leaves his lips, eyes transfixed on yours as you push him backwards to sit in a chair. 

“Clothes off. Don’t talk unless I ask you a question. Understand?” 

Yuuji mutters a quick “yes,” fingers already hooking under his sweats, pulling them down as you lock the door to your classroom and make sure there is no way to peek inside the room. Lucky for you, most classes also end early on Friday, so the building is surely almost completely empty by now. 

Yuuji’s heart rate picks up with each clank of your heels against the wooden parquet as you head on over back to the desk, once again sitting on its edge, arms crossed over your chest. Here he is, strawberry hair dishevelled, chest exposed and if you look closely enough, you can see the vibrations on his skin as his heart hammers wildly against his ribcage. All he has left on were his over-the-calf white Nike socks and his banana print boxers. The outline of his dick making your mouth water, already semi-hard even though nothing has really happened so far. 

“Show me what you do when you fantasize about me. Tell me what you think about. I want to know how exactly you objectify me… how often.” Your voice is quiet but commanding, distant yet curious. It takes him a moment to gather the courage to go through with what you ask of him, but he finally palms himself over his boxers, not daring to look at you, but opening his mouth to speak. 

“I- I often imagine what you look like under your clothes. What kind of l-lingerie you wear...” his voice falters at the end, the blush creeping up his face betraying him. But quite visibly, blood isn’t rushing only to his face. His eyes are shut and eyebrows pinched together, but he keeps on talking, just like you asked him to. “I think about you masturbating… Like I do almost every night. I-I think about eating you out and I imagine how you taste, what you look like.” He is gripping his now fully erect cock under the cloth of his boxers, and the whole view is just so delicious. His little confessions go straight to your clit, desire taking you over. You take your phone out and quickly open your camera, switching to video and turning it on.

“Go on, don’t hold back.” 

He keeps his eyes shut, but his hand movements get braver. In an instant, his big calloused hand dives under his boxers to pull out his heavy cock, the elastic band of his underwear resting under his balls. He’s already leaking, a pearly bead of precum sliding down his shaft, right next to a big juicy vein. You zoom in with your camera, making sure to catch all the details. 

“I imagine how tight you’d feel when you cream around my cock.” At these words he squeezes his length harder, a tiny whimper escaping his lips and it makes your heart twist and your insides burn. You just know the stretch of his cock will be delicious. You know he’d feel so good. The thought alone has you clenching around nothing and you slide a hand under your skirt, fingers pressing over your clit as a shudder travels your spine. 

“Yeah? You wanna do all those things to me, Mr. Itadori? You want to see me naked, taste me, feel me? Tell me how much you want it.” You’re focusing the camera on his face now, capturing his face contorting in pleasure and need. Hand stroking his dick faster now, smearing the pre all across his length. He doesn’t really need to say how much he wants that as it becomes evident from the vigour in his strokes, but you want to hear him anyway. “Tell me, use your words, baby boy.” The nickname sets him off, all the moans he’d been staving off finally surfacing. 

“S’much… it’s all I can think about. Every time I come to class my mind… w-wanders, mmgh.” His chest is heaving, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he fucks his fist wishing it was you, eyes still tightly shut. “Even now… I really am imagining that you’re jacking me off… it’s so fucking h-hot.” 

It would be a lie to say that your hands weren’t itching to touch him, to make him writhe and squirm and beg. But that would have to wait. Right now, you just want to see him cum. 

“Mmm, and how do these little daydreams of yours end, hm? Wanna show me?” It takes Yuuji only a few more strokes before his orgasm washes over him, abdomen muscles tightening, hot thick cum spurting over his chest and tummy, some even landing on his chin. His breathing is erratic and his heart feels like it's trying to break a hole through his ribcage. Finally, he cracks an eye open, gaze immediately landing on the phone in your hands. 

Stopping the video and tossing the phone aside, you stride over to him and card your fingers through his hair, slightly pulling his head back to look him in the eyes. Amongst all the emotions he’s feeling, fear is the most prominent right now. His eyes are watering again, and you quiver at the sight. 

“Call it an eye for an eye. One video for me to keep in exchange for all the times you’ve stared at me, imagining how good I would actually feel. If you behave, the video stays in my possession only. So be good f’me Yuuji, yea? Can you do that?” 

He nods his head quickly, too quickly for his own liking, but he dares not to disobey. His submission pleases you so you ease your grip on his hair, deft fingers sliding down the side of his face and tracing his sharp jawline. 

"You know Mr. Itadori, we’re not quite done here yet. I still need to discuss the possibility of you failing my class. I was thinking of assigning you some extra credit work to make up for the assignment you didn’t hand in… if you’d like to stay in my class-" 

He cuts you off. “P-Please… I want to do the extra credit work. Please, I-I’ll do good, I’ll make up for my bad grades, ‘promise.” The puppy eyes he gives will simply be the death of you. You smile and rub soft circles with your thumb on his cheek. 

Straightening up,  you walk away from him heading towards your desk, fingers running through the wooden surface and landing on your briefcase. "I really, really dislike brats, you know. And I absolutely will not tolerate more mistakes like this from you, Mr. Itadori. No more attitude. No more slacking off."

There’s an edge to your voice, a coldness emanating from it, and it sends shivers down his spine. Unconsciously he swallows, tongue darting out to swipe at his bottom lip. Even for him, it’s hard to tell if he’s scared or aroused. Or maybe both. But what he is sure of is that you’re commanding all of his attention right now. He would do anything for your approval.

“To ensure you actually complete the assignment and don’t flunk out of my class, I will be monitoring your work. And you will do it right here, where I can see you.” The briefcase is now open, your hands rummaging in it, fingers wrapping around the object you’re looking for. “You’re going to use some tools to further… motivate you.” Your grin is wicked as you pull out a pink silicone dildo from your briefcase. Smiling at your student, your tongue presses itself flat against the dildo, licking a slow stripe from shaft to tip.

"You said you’ll be good, right? Promised you’ll do the extra credit… Still feeling up for the task?" You're now walking back to him and his eyes grow wider with fear. He's never done this before. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat as you sit down on his lap but to no avail. His mind is going completely blank, but his dick is acting on its own accord, becoming hard again pressed up against your ass.

“I want to do the extra credit, professor. Please?” The words are almost a whisper, the sound of his heart drowning out the sound. You chuckle and present the dildo to his lips in a silent command which he obeys, wrapping his lips around the tip of the dildo. 

"Ah, so you can obey orders, well that's a relief. Because I have a tall order coming for you." You shove the dildo all the way down his throat, tears immediately pooling in his eyes, the only noise coming from him being muffled moans and gagging. "So listen up, brat—you're going to take this dildo like a big boy and cockwarm it for me as you write your assignment right here, right now. Where I can see you." 

He can’t verbally give you an answer with the dildo shoved down his throat, so he nods, trying to hold off his gag-reflex, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 

You don’t even think about it as you lean closer, tongue darting out to collect the stray tear, the salty taste of it making you hum in delight. You remove the dildo from his mouth, a clear string of saliva connecting his lips and the pink tip of the dildo, which you simply hand to him. It’s his extra credit work after all, he should do all the work himself if he wants a good grade. 

This time you drag your chair from behind your desk and position it across Yuuji’s, giving you a perfect view of the show he’s about to put on for you. With shaky hands he positions the dildo on the chair, making sure the suction cup at the bottom is well attached. You could see him think through every move he makes, taking his laptop out, positioning everything so that he could attempt to write while he cockwarms the dildo. 

The strawberry-colour haired man takes a final unsure look at you as if seeking confirmation, but even he can’t deny the excitement he feels deep down. The primal need to please you, show you he can be a good boy too, for you and you only. Lifting one leg over his desk, he gives you a perfect view of his round ass, puckered hole already clenching in anticipation. Two of his long fingers push past his lips, tongue sloppily covering them in saliva that he plans on using as lube. Those same fingers, now covered in a layer of spit, rub soft circles over his puckered hole, lightly teasing and prodding while he gets used to the sensation. 

One finger finally pushes past his ring muscle, a wanton moan escaping his pretty lips. The sound is heavenly and you just want to hear more. To see more. Slightly parting your legs, you let your right hand travel up your thigh and toy with the hem of your lacy panties, enjoying Yuuji’s reaction. The little display you’re making for him is really fuelling him further. Not even a minute later, he’s sinking a second finger in his greedy hole, sounding more and more desperate, each moan and whimper a treasure for you. 

Spitting on the dildo again, this time nasty and unabashed, mind hazy from lust, Yuuji finally positions himself over the pink dildo, the tip resting right over his hole. One more glance in your direction and he sinks down an inch, the tip pushing past his muscle, the stretch immediately filling his eyes with more tears. But he ignores the weird feeling, ignores the pain, and simply focuses on the pleasure. The more he sinks down on the dildo, the more you toy with your pussy, panties now pushed aside to give him a better view. Fingers sliding up and down the slit, collecting your essence and smearing it all over, gentle circles with your middle finger over your clit. 

Halfway down the dildo, Yuuji opts to slide back up, and then down again, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth hanging open in pleasure. He was not expecting it to feel this good, the fullness making him slightly dizzy. One hand gently strokes over his sensitive cock, the feeling making him shiver. 

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” In response to his puzzled look you simply nod over to his laptop, reminding him that he is supposed to be writing an assignment. “Just write an essay on any topic that we’ve covered in class… or did you not retain anything from our classes because you were too busy being a pervert?” At these words, you slide two fingers inside you, knuckles deep, pumping them in and out slowly. 

After staring dumbfoundedly for a few seconds, his shaky fingers pull the laptop closer and he begins to type. It’s adorable to watch him struggle to remain concentrated on the task at hand, with the dildo filling him up perfectly and with the sounds you’re making as you fuck yourself on your fingers… poor Yuuji can barely keep it together. Even though he’s sunk all the way down on the dildo and knows he’s supposed to stay still, he can’t help the little thrusts of his hips against the silicone cock. 

Around 10 minutes has passed since Yuuji started his attempt at writing an essay, but it’s becoming more and more difficult for him to focus, not with the tip of the dildo pressing up against his prostate, making his thighs quiver and his breath hitch. He needs relief; he can’t write like this. And you know this all too well, your own desire taking over you completely, temporarily forgetting how you got in this situation in the first place. Screw it.

“P-please, professor.. I need..” 

Before he can finish his sentence you’re already on his lap, lips pressed to his in a heated, sloppy kiss. You can’t hold it in anymore; you want to feel him. His lips feel soft against yours, but his tongue feels sinister as it dances against yours. Moving his laptop to the side, you sit on top of the desk and spread your legs for Yuuji, pussy glistening with your slick and on full display for the boy. 

“An orgasm or two might put you in my good graces?” you suggest and spread your pussy lips with two fingers, watching as Yuuji practically drools over the sight. He doesn’t need to be asked twice, still impaled on the dildo he bends forward, tongue darting out to lick a stripe from your entrance to your clit. The taste of you drives him feral, lips latching onto your clit and sucking hard, mouth hard at work to coax more moans out of you. To taste more of you. To him, you’re truly intoxicating. As his tongue works feverishly against your folds, constant praise falls from your lips. That’s my good boy, fuck yes, right t-there. 

“Move your hips, ride that cock baby boy.” You’re so close to your own release, it’s suffocating you. A few more flicks of his tongue over your sensitive bud and you’re coming undone under him, legs shaking violently as your mind floods with overwhelming pleasure and your pussy flutters. Yuuji’s greedy mouth is ready to swallow all your slick, hungrily lapping at your cunt, the obscene squelch of his tongue against your wetness filling the room. 

Pushing him away just enough to sit back in his lap, your hands wrap around his length, pumping it languidly. His hips slow down but he doesn’t dare stop moving up and down the dildo, he doesn’t dare disobey you. Catching his lips in another kiss you guide his cock to your slit, rubbing it up and down, collecting all your arousal. Slowly you sink down on his cock, eyes rolling back at the feeling of his fat meaty cock stretching you out, your tight hole hugging him perfectly. 

And Yuuji could cum from this alone, from finally feeling your warmth and wetness around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth. You feel so much better than he could ever imagine. With you hovering over his lap enough to give him space to bounce up and down, impaling himself on the silicone cock, and simultaneously drilling upwards into your welcoming heat. The feeling is so overwhelming; his movements are sloppy, and he’s constantly babbling incoherent words, hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. And as you look down at him all you can think about is how gorgeous he looks all fucked out.

Your hand snakes down your body, middle finger expertly rubbing tight circles over your clit, pussy immediately clamping down even harder on his dick. A second orgasm was approaching and Yuuji can feel that, the way your walls flutter around him, how much louder you’re getting. All he has to do is hold off his orgasm for a while more. He angles his hips and pistons up into your cavern, the tip of his leaky cock ramming against your cervix in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Right there is all you can repeat, teetering on the edge of your second orgasm, a few good strokes being the last push you need before you stumble over and drown in the pleasure once more. Yuuji follows right after, sinking all the way down on the dildo and pushing you down his length to completely bottom out inside you as he empties his balls, thick cum spurting right against your cervix. You can feel how full of cum you are, the thick sticky substance dribbling down your thigh. 

After a few moments of silence, the two of you just staying close and trying to catch your breath, you finally speak. 

“You know, you will actually have to write at least one essay for me for that extra credit, consider this just your… motivation to actually get it done. At the end of the day, I’d rather you not fail, Yuuji.” 

You did it again, you used his first name. The softness to your voice makes his heart twist, and he knows he has to live up to the promise he made. 

“And this stays between us.” 

You didn’t really need to tell him that, he knows how badly things could turn out if anyone found out, but he gives you his word. He doesn’t dare say anything else out of fear that anything he says might ruin the magic. One wrong move could sully this moment forever, and this is a memory he’ll cherish for a long time. So he tucks his flaccid cock in his boxers and puts on his clothes, gathering his things and heading for the door. He pauses for a second and turns around for one last look. 

“Miss L/N.. uhm, thank you for giving me an opportunity for that extra credit. And uh, I don’t mean the sex. The actual extra credit. I know I can be difficult, so I appreciate this a lot.” 

You smile and wave him off, telling him there’s nothing to be thankful for. You remind him to hand in his essay before the following Friday and you say your goodbyes. 

There’s a slight empty feeling budding inside you, missing the attention of the younger boy, but ultimately you realize you had completely forgotten about the stress of the week; and there was an undeniable pep in Yuuji’s step as he made his way home that night... Today was truly a good day, for both of you. 

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑! I do not own any of the characters or people mentioned in my work. these are works of pure fiction that do not reflect the views, opinions, or actions of any person, real or fictional. Furthermore, all characters I write for [thirsts, drabbles, fics, etc.] are aged up to 21 or older – they are adults with adult characteristics presented and written in adult contexts.

all rights reserved © by maliciouslove. my work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. all fanfics belong to me, please do not copy, translate nor repost the fics or files seen above as this is strictly prohibited.

[yona049]

𝕄𝕚𝕘𝕦𝕖𝕝 𝕆'𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕩 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

Part 1

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪𓆩𓆪

On a earth across the vast multiverse Miguel O'hara leaves a wife behind to grieve for him, she takes on the roll of Spiderman 2099, little to her knowledge another Miguel O'hara is about to find himself on her earth.

𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩𓆩🕸️𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪𓆪

Disclaimer°˚

>mention of death/Funeral

>slight intrusive thoughts

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

"Miguel O'Hara. A son, A Friend... A husband." This was all Y/n heard before her ears started ringing. Her brain scattered as she looked down at the freshly dug grave and clean polished tomb stone.

This wasn't right at all. Her whole body burning with anger when she saw only one or two friends had shown up to her husbands funeral. They'll never know what he did for this city! The pain he drove himself through, mentally and physically. Nueva York wasn't and never will be thankful for all his efforts.

Once she returned home she dropped down on the couch wearing the black clothing soaked in the rain that continually poured outside.

A once Happy household filled with laughter or the occasional fight, felt quiet. Unlike the house, the city outside was busy, traffic ushers angry drivers to a psychotic honking fit. This wasn't unusual, tho it was more active since the once hero disappeared without a trace.

Feeling drained of all emotion, Y/n looks over to the still filled trashcan. Bandages and futuristic heath packs filling it to the brim. That one horrible night is what brought this nightmare to life.

Y/n stood up from the couch and walks right by the bin and down the hallway.

When she stops in the hallway and looks at a hologram picture of her and Miguel at some vacation resort, hanging on the wall. She clenched her fists and grits her teeth. "Lyla, open the door, please."

The holographic picture quickly switches off before suddenly swapping to Lyla, wearing her usual white fluffy coat and pink heart shaped glasses. As she floats in the air in front of Y/n, she slowly removes the glasses. "This room is for Miguel's eyes only-" Lyla is suddenly interrupted by Y/n's sudden loud exclamation. "Miguel isn't HERE anymore!" This makes Lyla flinch back before she finally sighs quietly. Her eyes fill with sadness and sympathy as the pixels she's made of slowly fades out. A small opening starts growing bigger and bigger from where there was once a wall and finally Y/n walks through the doorway.

Once in the room, Y/n looks around at the walls with an infinite illusion of blackness. Completely empty and void of any objects she quickly calls Lyla again.

"Lyla, show me everything. Every file, every piece of tech, everything in this room that's hidden." she folds her arms into a protective self hug.

Slowly the infinite void starts to fill up with furniture one pixel at a time. Bits of suites in the making, a Soldering Iron and a motherboard laying on a desk.

Digital monitors watching all corners of Neuve York. Among all the digital things was real paper pinned to a cork board.

Y/n walks up to it and gently runs her fingers across the red thread. Just like she'd seen in all those old detective movies. She followed the thread to each pin seeing alot of different news paper cutouts. Tyler Stone, Carnage and Proteus. All classic villans of the great hero Spiderman.

Y/n finally spoke after a long few minutes of stareing and thinking. "The fate of Nueva York rested on his shoulders. He broke bones, scarred muscle and almost lost his life numerous times! And these people barely bat an eye. His efforts for them, all of this for THEM!"

Y/n makes a sudden scratch across the cork board! Papers are sent flying and pins drop to the ground, red thread hooking onto Y/n's fingers. This was anger, deep and uncontrolled anger. She kept clawing at the board. Ripping everything off and to pieces not bothering to take a breath or stop. When the board was finally free of all it's pins and papers, Y/n stopped, out of breath and not bothering to flinch at the holes the pins left in her hands and fingers.

A few moments passed. Lyla took this opportunity to appear again. "Y/n, your hands will get infected. I suggest disinfectant, and ointment. Please."

Hearing Lyla's worried tone, she slowly looks up though the loose strands of hair. "Lyla, I'm sorry. I-I'm.." she trails off as the warmth of tears cover her red puffy face. She sinks to the ground, hands too heavy to lift. All she could do was cry. A messy bundle of black makeup, tangled hair and bleeding hands.

After her hands were bandaged up, she was sat in the secret lab in her home. Dressed in one of Miguel's shirts with a cup of strong coffee. She looked around once more, the suit on a mannequin. No blood on the holographic suit, Only a large gash of broken pixels on the chest.

She looks back at the monitors now streaming some camera footage of all dark ally's or known crime hot spots. Her ears perk when she hears two guys waking down a particularly dark street and talking.

"This Spiderman hasn't shown up in almost 3 days now! Absent punk is binging all hell back to the city!" says a man wearing an irish cap.

His friend with a cigarette between his lips snorts and agrees "Yeah! No kidding. Well, it's not like much changed, villains always came back after he supposedly 'saved the day'. What a waste."

Y/n look a deep breath and exhaled a growl, she tried staying calm, but the anger in her boiled up once again. Her eyes seemed to redden before she looked right at the holographic suit.

Y/n Aggressively Brings the mug down onto the table.

"Lyla! That suit can be shaped to any body type right?"

Lyla looks at Y/n, not sure what she's suggesting. "Yes, but it's still a little damaged."

Maybe it was a chuckle of anger that escaped from Y/n's rapid exhales and inhales, but this ushered her on to stand up quickly and walk right up to the much bigger suit.

"Let's change a few things then."

°°

The men on the street are still chatting the night away. Taking about how they could easily be the Hero! How that would get them all the girls and money.

The cigarette smoke from the man, drifts up past the harsh gleaming street light. This is where Y/n hid. Ontop of a streetlight, effortlessly balanced thanks to the suit she wore.

Atone to her figure, the suit was no longer fitted to Miguel's large shoulders. The large opening of pixels still remained on her chest right below the collar bone. But something was different, the once blue and red suit now flipped in color. A blue symbol for Spiderman and a fully scarlet body.

Listening, seething with anger. They undermine her husband so easily. In the moment she was ready to charge, to use a powerful blow against these pests who dare to complain.

But something stopped her dead in her tracks. A melody she recognized instantly.

A small song being played on a very old radio by someone down the dark ally by a dumpster fire. A song that was playing the night she and Miguel met.

She had been invited to a bar to celebrate a colleges promotion, still being relatively new, she didn't know alot of people from Alchemax.

The rain was falling onto the glass windows. The bar stood out among the white plastic and blue lined technologies of the future, because of its original wooden texture and orange lights. The bar's "vintage night" a mixture of music and drinks they used to use in the far past.

The band played vintage instruments, and there it started, a guitar solo with a slow pace.

One by one everyone went to slow dance, long time friends and colleagues laughing their way onto the dance floor.

Y/n watched from the corner of the bar, no drink in particular, just whatever the others got.

She looked down at her phone for just a second when thunder suddenly struck. She lost her grip and her phone went flying across the bar.

"¡Oye, míralo!" a voice exclaimed.

Y/n Quickly collected herself and rushed to her victim.

"I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to, the thunder caught me off guard!"

Her eyes land on the hand holding her phone and as soon as she grabs it she looks up into his eyes.

A very tall man with incredible build and intense stare. Brown, near red eyes looked down at her curiously before letting go of the phone.

Y/n brings the phone to her chest looking a little worried.

"Did it hit you?" she scans his face for any obvious brushes.

"No, I have really good reflexes." he finally speaks with a dark chocolate voice.

Y/n nods and reaches to put her phone in her bag.

"Again I'm very sorry-" The sentence gets caught in her throat before she could finish when another bolt of lightning strikes.

Miguel seems to notice her distress before delicately offering his hand.

"The music is louder on the dance floor. C'mon!"

A little taken a back Y/n smiles and takes hold of Miguel's hand.

Finally on the dance floor Miguel places his hand on her side and takes her other hand. She clears her throat awkwardly before placing her hand on his shoulder.

"First I throw you with my phone, now you have to inconvenience yourself with me."

He smirks at Y/n's remark and shakes his head quickly.

"Its really the opposite." they gently swing side to side with a respectable distance between them.

"I was actually looking for a dance partner to celebrate my promotion with."

Y/n looks back intro his eyes before finally feeling more at ease and smiles.

"Y/n L/n" she introduced herself.

"Miguel O'hara"

°°°

Finally being brought back to her scenes, Y/n looks back down at the men she was fully prepared to charge at.

Her breathing was rapid, eyes ready to bring down a thousand rain storms. She lifts her hand and the electric webbing shoots from her wrists.

Swiftly she lands on a rooftop but as soon as her feet connect to the ground her knees give way.

Finally she gives in to the waterfall pushing her eyelids and yanks the mask off her head. Messy mask hair and puffy wet eyes.

With the sunrise rising over the city, her cheeks gleam in the orange light.

"Miguel... How can I bring you back to me?" She whispered with barely enough energy to go above a whisper.

After some distant staring, her eyes get a flicker of an idea.

"The spider serum!"

[thatone-brightstar]

Some The Bear & The Fox behind the scenes!

(cause I had to make some executive decision but many of these deserve to see the light of day)

Amy’s notes: This is mostly pure fluff but MDNI just in case lol. Also let me know if you want to see more cuz i got a shit ton of these :)

~~~~

*This is the alternative ending to chapter 3 if Fox would have said yes from the start, but i love to make us all suffer so i took it out:

You could have been there for an eternity, both afraid to break the bubble you had so cautiously created around you, but knowing you had to. You had been gone far longer than to be justified by getting drinks and your phone hadn’t vibrated because it had been left inside your purse… along with the money you would need if you were going to get drinks.

“You’re gonna have to pay for drinks.” You whisper to Carmy, your lips brushing over his with every word.

“I’ll pay everyone’s tab, I don’t fuckin’ care right now.” He whispered back, catching your lips into another sweet long kiss.

“No, seriously. We gotta go.” You managed to say in between kisses and laughs. He planted his lips by your ear and inhaled your perfume, and you had to stop a gasp threatening to escape. “The faster we go,” You turned to whisper near his ear. ”The sooner you can get me out these clothes.”

His body tensed around you before a ‘fuck’ shaped breath left his lips, and when he raised his head, you could see his pupils had only left a thin ring of blue around them. You pretended not to notice how your words had affected both of you as you pecked him quickly on the nose then swiped your thumb over it to erase the trace of your lipstick.

“C’mon.” You smiled, then intertwined your fingers with his and reopened the door to go back inside as two completely different people than the ones who had walked out.

~~~~~

Chapter 5 instead of Carmy’s panic attack:

You had been the one to finally decide to go visit the beef family after days of absence and Carmy gladly agreed to pick you up around noon when he was running some errands, ‘Anything to get them off my back’ he had said, but he was secretly happy to see you again. Besides, he had already tried to explain on the first day that due to… personal priorities, you had decided to take some time from the restaurant.

Marcus had thrown a piece of sourdough he was kneading at Richie’s head, asking if he had scared you away.

“You know what, that’s a great question Marcus,” Carmy played along, crossing his arms and turning to his cousin. “Richie, did you? Scare her away?”

“Fuck you, I didn’t do shit to her.” He defended, taking the dough from his head and throwing it back at Marcus. “Plus, fuckin’ Carmy had already called dibs so it wouldn’t be fair”

“Richie, you asshole, you can’t call dibs on a person-” Syd yelled at him from across the counter, at the same time Carmy had called “No I fuckin’ didn’t, what am I, twelve?!”

They had begun arguing it the middle of the kitchen about what Richie had or hadn’t done to scare you off, then Tina broke it off when she asked loudly if anyone had taken the Paprika off her spice rack because it wasn’t there; only to be found under the table by the remnants of other spices scattered underneath. Carmy excused himself into his office as his ears flared up, similar to the way your cheeks did when he told you the story over the phone that same night.

~~~~

Also chapter 5 but at the beginning:

He celebrated the big achievement by stopping for dinner and driving to your house after closing on Thursday. You had snuck him in while your grandfather was asleep in the living room, under the glow of the TV and through soft pulls and giggle-filled kisses, he was shoved into your room. It was strange, how the boyish actions felt foreign to his strained soul, but didn’t stop the whispered laugh of excitement.

He had never been inside a girl’s room before, not counting his sister’s, and it was exactly how he assumed it would be. Cream colored walls were barely visible under the many framed artworks, pictures and various sized mirrors. Potted plants invaded a small corner near one of the windows while your bed took up most of the other. A pile of clothes laid discarded by your closet door and a nice lamp on your nightstand bathed the space in a soft blue glow. It felt intimate and beautifully lived in, like he was seeing a small part of your soul.

You had dinner on the fire escape by the window, enjoying the gentle breeze and the hum of music playing from inside your bedroom. He was worried things would be weird, not really knowing where you stood or what this even was. Then you joked about how Richie wanted to bribe you to go back because ‘fuckin’ Carmy can’t stop mopin’ around’ and that was confirmation enough that you two were fine.

‘Wait ‘till they find out you’re the one who fired me.’ You had said between sips of your drink and when he answered ‘Let’s just hope they don’t find out we fucked on Tina’s station’, your eyes doubled in size and a dark tint appeared on your face still visible in the low lighting.

He left around two in the morning, when the conversation had died down into a comfortable silence and your head rested in the valley of his neck, with one of his arms wrapped around you to protect you from the cold. As much as he enjoyed the soft sound of your breathing and the heat radiating from your joined bodies, he knew he shouldn’t stay. It would be too soon and the last thing he wanted was to scare you away for real this time. So before you fell asleep completely, he kissed the crown of your head and removed his arm from around you, softly whispering his parting.

You guided him quietly to the entrance of the apartment, still lazily rubbing your eyes, and thanked him for dinner and for the visit.

‘Maybe next time I can-uh cook you somethin’... instead of buyin’ it’ He whispered in the silent hallway as he scratched his head nervously, laced into his words was a tender promise that made the skin on your face heat up.

You nodded enthusiastically and raised on your sock covered feet to leave a sugary kiss upon his lips, sticky sweet honey trickled down his throat and kept him warm as he arrived home and settled on his couch to rest his eyes.

~~~~~

Thanks for reading, key byeee 🩷

[nvrcmplt]

Claude was born in Kongsvinger, Norway. But was brought up within; Flekkefjord, Norway until the age of 13 He then moved back to Kongsvinger - until the age of 16 Then he moved to Oxford in England on a scholarship for his English at 17 He began to write his first book at 18-20 - however never finished it.

After finishing his English degree - he was introduced to a Japanese exchange student room-mate, where they began to teach each other the languages and cultures.

From the age of 22 he started to live on his own in London before returning to Norway; where he wrote his book series.

He became country-known from the ages of 23-25 - with 3 Novels and a 5 part Children's fantasy book series - that was adapted into a TV series and a movie formats which spread his name a bit worldly. This was his last piece of fiction literature as his biography became his last written piece as he lost his Father at 28 - and gave up writing before moving countries.

He was in Japan from 28 - 35 taking on a new role of teaching English in a local Japanese school. He got back in touch with his old roommate from University, Inoue Nori - which aided him a lot in navigating the new country a little easier.

Whilst teaching he met a lot of people in his time and in turn ended up falling in love with one of them. He made the decision to retire from his English Teaching job after meeting his lover after a while of living together. Adopted to two Corgi twin dogs for Claude’s birthday; they had five animals to look after.

However, in the end - Jonas and Claude didn't proceed with the engagement or marriage plans and soon separated.

Claude isn't short of money so it wasn't a complete loss without that life for him, but it took a toll on his mental health. Thankfully he had his friends, Elin and Lasse at his darkest moments and aided Claude in pushing through.

Claude ended up putting his house up for sale after a few months of living on his own with his pets.

After it was given a possible buyer, Claude thought through with what he wanted to do in life and in turn, he ended up hanging out more with Elin - talks of a change of place. So, in the end he hops onto the plane with her. Packing up his life and using Elin's courage to boost his own.

They stayed together for a few months in different places. gave his corgi's up to a family that wanted them as he wouldn't be taking them with him - then once everyone was settled nicely in their new homes, Claude broke away. With his aging and trusted dog at his side, Claude set off for an adventure.

Two years into his long travels, Bjorg grew sick as he knew would happen and in turn, he had her rest in his arms on the faithful night of her passing. His last memory of his best times. Her death hit him hard and yet, he didn't reach for a noose this time. Instead, he took to the trails and paths of the world with her ashes in his bag. Claude poured everything he was into his venture and scattered her ashes in every lake, river and sea foam he came across that blew him away.

He kept in touch with his friends as and when possible via video calls, postcards and more, the hurt of his best friends passing lessened over time and with his heart ready to face the world and it's business again. He stated he was returning to settle down again, properly this time.

By now, he is 46 and house hunting for one, which feels very - empty, so he might just have to seek out a new companion for the rest of his life.

[myreia]

BOUND BY FAITH

CHAPTER FOUR: EROS

Chapter Rating: Explicit (contains sexual content) Pairing: Aureia Malathar (WoL)/Thancred Waters Major Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Thancred Waters Chapter Words: 6,063 Notes: Set post-5.0., spoilers for Shadowbringers base. Summary: With their enemies defeated and the First saved, the Crystarium is alive with celebration. Despite the joy around her, Aureia is uncertain about the next steps to take. So is Thancred, for that matter. The puzzle of their lives has sat incomplete for years, but finally this last, precious piece may be able to slide into place. Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 Read on AO3

He can’t stop kissing her.

She called him a fool and broke the dam, and he is so damn grateful for it. Even now, he isn’t certain if they would be here if she hadn’t beaten him to it. But now he has kissed her, he can’t keep himself from her. She is light and life and joy and so many more things than he can put a voice to.

They fumble in the moonlight dark, their paired breath ragged and heavy in their ears as he carries her through the apartment. He lingers at the foot of the stairs, a hand on the balustrade, indulging in kissing her even as a distant part of his mind considers the challenge of carrying her up the spiral in the dark. The lamps she lit earlier have gone out and he is far too distracted to ask her to light them again.

Aureia caresses his cheek, trailing kisses across his jaw to his ear. “Thancred, I…”

Thancred chuckles. “Quiet now. We aren’t entirely alone, you know.”

She bites back a laugh. Sliding from his grasp, she lands carefully on the floor, her footsteps as light as a feather, and slips her hand into his. They help each other up the stairs, pausing now and then for a stolen kiss. As eager as they are to reach the upper level, there is something tantalizing about the way they are indulging in this. He feels fifteen years younger.

Aureia reaches the landing first and spins around, cupping his face between her hands as she presses her mouth to his. She walks backwards, pulling him with her, one hand reaching blindly behind her for the door. He snorts with laughter and kisses her cheek, catching her hand. He guides her scrabbling fingers to the doorknob, and together they push it open.

The loft hasn’t changed much since the Exarch gifted him this apartment. The angled ceiling hangs low, twists of wrought iron weaving through the dark beams. A trio of windows overlook the living space below, catching the moonlight seeping in from elsewhere. A simple bed, a chest of drawers—reserved, as far as the Crystarium goes. While the bedroom and living quarters below have been Ryne’s domain for a few years now, this small room has somehow become the closest thing he has to a space all his own.

Naturally he hasn’t done much with it.

He’s not one for worldly possessions save those that are useful to his work. Miscellaneous tools scattered across a bureau as if it were a workbench; his gunblade propped up in a corner where the angled ceiling descends closest to the floor. Perhaps a part of him wishes he had done something more with the place, now that someone other than Ryne or Urianger is standing here.

But Aureia knows him too well and he knows she would be the last person to judge him for it.

She kicks off her boots and pads across the creaking floorboards on bare feet. He follows suit and tugs the door closed. Shrugging out of his coat, he hangs it on a nearby hook then leans against the wall, watching her fondly as she slows to a halt in the pool of moonlight. Her eyes sweep the room with curiosity and a quiet smile brightens her face as she takes everything in.

“What a mess,” she says affectionately.

He makes a face and raises a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did mention I haven’t spent much time here, did I not? Not much opportunity to make permanent arrangements when sin eaters are your primary concern.”

She runs a hand over the bed’s footboard, trailing her fingers idly across the dark wood. “Pragmatic to a fault,” she murmurs.

He pauses, something he cannot voice lingering on the tip of his tongue. The hesitation is back and, inwardly, he is cursing it. If they had continued as they had been when they were on the stairs, he would have asked her to bed without any fear. But this pause…

Aureia glances at him. The moonlight envelopes her in a gentle silver glow. She is even more radiant than before.  

Gods, she is beautiful.  

She pulls her scarf free and drapes it over the footboard. “What are you thinking, Thancred?” she asks gently, taking a step towards him. “What is happening in that brilliant mind of yours?”

He holds her gaze. “Oh, so you think me brilliant now? That’s a first—”

“I’m being serious.” Another step. Shadow crosses her face as she passes out of the light. “Something is on your mind.”

“Other than the thought of kissing you?”

Another step. How quickly she has closed the distance between them and now she is standing but a hair’s breadth away, their bodies so close his heart is aching. She places a hand against his chest and leans in, giving him a long, but gentle kiss.

“There’s a few thoughts occupying mine.” She nuzzles his cheek, pressing a feather-light kiss beneath his ear. “Would you like to know?”

He closes his eyes, a groan escaping his lips. The feel of her hand against his chest is exhilarating, stoking a desire for more. He wants her to touch him. Gods, how he needs her to touch him. He can’t say that he has never dreamed of it, but involving her in such fantasies soured quickly in those years when he knew nothing would ever come of it.

She kisses him again, her tongue flicking against his earlobe. The smallest of movements, and yet she has already drawn another sound from him.

“I daresay you have piqued my curiosity,” he murmurs huskily.

Aureia smiles, shooting him a devious look from beneath her lashes. He has never seen this side of her. Never. And it is intoxicating.

She leans her head against his shoulder and slides her hand down his chest. “When you said that inviting me here tonight wasn’t entirely innocent, I took you at your word,” she says, slowly tugging his shirt free from his trousers. She slips her hand beneath the hem. The touch of her palm against his skin sends an exhilarated shiver spiralling down his spine.

He can’t look away from her. “I did say that, aye.”

Her fingertips linger on his belt, toying with the clasp. She strays lower, almost mischievously, and brushes against the half-hardened bulge that is the result of her exploration. He could very well lose his mind if she keeps touching him like this.

“Did you mean it?”

“Aureia, there is nothing more on this shard or thirteen others that I want more than you.”

She smiles. “Good.”

And then her mouth is on his and her kiss his like fire. She yanks his belt free and tugs his laces lose. Her hand slips into his trousers and he groans against her lips, already breathless. He hardens beneath her touch, trembling with desire as she runs her hand down his length. Unable to keep himself off her any longer, he cups her face in his hands and pulls her closer.

His kiss consumes her, his tongue slipping into her mouth as deftly as her hand strokes him. His mind is a haze, overwhelmed by her—her touch, her scent, how unexpectedly forward she is. He never imagined she would take the lead quite in this way, but after his own hesitation, it delights him as much as it arouses.

“Aur,” he grunts. “I—you—”

She grins and kisses him in return, swaying lightly on her feet. He is falling apart for her, his Aur. He always knew he would. He is willingly at her mercy, her fingers working some heady magic as she leaves him panting and gasping. Pleasure mounts within him with every stroke, eager for release.

He growls, his teeth scraping against her bottom lip as she increases her pace, teasing him with pressure and rhythm. Desperate to touch her as intimately as she is touching him, he tugs her shirt loose and slips a hand beneath it, sliding his palm upwards across her stomach. He feels her through her brassiere, surprised and mesmerized by the fullness of her breasts. His thumb flicks her nipple beneath the fabric, and her breath catches in excitement.

In return, she squeezes him, finding a pressure that all but brings him to his end. Laughing with delight, she presses her lips to his and strokes him through his climax, supporting him as he falls against her, shaking and trembling. He wraps his arms around her, his head buried in her shoulder, and together they lean against the wall, breathing as one.

Finally, he can speak. “You always do know how to surprise me,” he murmurs, nuzzling against her cheek.

She laughs throatily and cradles him, running her fingers through his hair. “Take me to bed?” she asks.

“Gladly.”

Thancred lifts her into his arms, his mouth on hers as he carries her across the room. A little moan escapes her as he places her on the bed and she rolls out of the way and onto her back, her hair splayed out in a halo across the bedspread. She digs her thumbs into her waistband, shifting back and forth as she peels her trousers and underthings off. He watches as he undresses, a grin spreading across his face at how utterly ridiculous—and utterly ordinary—she looks.

Aureia notes him looking. “What?” she challenges, raising an eyebrow.

He says nothing and finishes undressing. She blinks, suddenly taken aback by the sight of him naked in the moonlight. Though his adventures these past five years have not left a mark on him, whatever forces manifested a physical form for his soul on the First were keen to replicate every scar from every misfortune that had befallen his body on the Source.  

Somehow this is more intimate than the pleasure she had just coaxed out of him mere moments before.

Instead of answering her, he rests a knee on the bed and kisses her forehead. She makes a face and crushes her lips to his, pulling him onto the bed with her in a tangled heap. He tilts his head, a soft groan of urgency lost in their kiss, and rolls over, pulling her on top of him. She laughs, delight bubbling across her lips with no hesitation, and straddles him. Her thighs press tight around him and she rolls her hips, grinding against him as she winds her fingers through his hair.

Gods, it’s so easy for her to awaken his desire. A single touch and he is wild for her.  

He kisses her soundly and rests a hand against her hip. He slips the other beneath her shirt and traces gentle patterns across her skin. She trembles at his touch, an exhilarated smile on her face. His palm glides upwards, wandering across the curve of her back—

And brushes across the coarse, blister-like scars that flare between her shoulder blades in a distinctive pattern.

The brands. He knew they were there, of course he knew. But he never realized they would feel like…

Like hells I could ever forget. I did this to her.  

He stiffens and falls back on the bed, breaking the kiss. He lowers his hand, his fingers clenched into a fist, and a shameful flush spreads across his cheeks. The fires of the Praetorium were a lifetime ago. His memory from the time he was possessed is like cracked glass—broken shards that can never give a true picture of the whole. But he has had the moment recounted to him enough times that he knows what went on. How their enemy—in his possessed body—blasted her across the grounds like a ragdoll, his spells melting her clothing and engraving their mark upon her back.

He remembers all too well what she was like afterwards. Broken and fractured and unable to cast magic, the one thing that had sustained her through every trial in her life.

“Aur,” Thancred murmurs. “I…”

Aureia brushes hair from his forehead and gently presses a hand to his cheek. “It’s all right,” she says. “I’m fine.”

“I know.”

“Are you all right? Do you want to stop?”

He meets her eyes. “No.”

She smiles. Seizing the hem of her shirt, she pulls it up and over her head and tosses it onto the floor. Calloused fingers fiddle with her brassiere next, stripping it away in a rush. Her skin is luminescent in the moonlight. He is breathless at the sight of her naked on top of him.

Holding his gaze, Aureia takes his hands and guides them to the curve of her back. “You can touch them,” she murmurs.

He pauses. “Do they…?” he ventures tentatively. Perhaps its simply the heat of their proximity, but her scars are warm, as if they are still burning upon her.

“They don’t hurt. At least, not like this. Sometimes, with astral fire…” She closes her eyes and swallows hard. “He did something to me, Thancred. Whether it was his intention or not, he left a mark that is more than skin deep. Like a part of his aether was seared onto mine. It makes me powerful, yes, but… my magic is not always controlled. It’s never been the same since then.”

“…I never knew.”

“It’s not exactly a truth I like to share. Minfilia knew—”

Something deep inside him twists. Even now, he still clams up at any mention of her name. He may have finally accepted her passing, but those wounds are still raw.  

“—and Urianger. I suppose I never told you because at first I was worried you would blame yourself, and then later… there wasn’t much opportunity for slipping it into casual conversation.”

He chuckles wistfully. His palm traces idle patterns across her back, growing in confidence with every touch. The brands feel unlike any burn scar he is familiar with.

“I’ve had these scars for seven years now,” she continues. “I’ve long since made my peace with them.” She inhales a trembling breath and cups his face with her hand, running a thumb across his cheek. “The Ascian responsible for tormenting us both is dead ten times over. He has no bearing on this moment. He has no bearing on either of us. Not any more.”

His heart aches. Gods, he truly does love her.

Thancred pushes himself up and kisses her, hands caressing her back as he pulls her into an embrace. She falls into him, locking her legs tight around him. He draws her into him, running his hands through her hair, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.

In this moment, there is nothing but them.

In this moment, they have nothing but time.

She buries her face in his neck and wraps her arms around him, her breath ghosting across his skin. She is like a star’s fire—bright and everlasting, a light in the dark to guide him home. Nothing has ever felt so right. The comforting weight of her head on his shoulder. The intimacy of her body, thrumming with warmth and life as she presses against his. How the very scent of her intoxicates her.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, he kisses her cheek and glides his hands to her waist, mesmerized by the curves of her body. So many intimate places begging to be touched and loved, flawless imperfections and all. It leaves him with one overwhelming desire, an idea he knows he cannot shake until he sees it through. “Where, Aur?” he says, his voice low. No longer a murmur, but not yet a growl. “Show me.”

Her voice hitches, her breath coming faster now as she flushes with anticipation. She kisses his throat and wanders tantalizingly upward and across his jaw. Her lips are like flame, searing his skin with their warmth as she settles against his ear.

“Here.”

She twines her fingers with his and puts his hand on her breast. He caresses her gently, his fingers roaming. There’s a tiny mole beneath her right breast, dark against her pale skin. His thumb grazes it curiously, then plucks at her nipple. The little gasp she utters sends a pleasurable shiver rippling down his spine. Heady with the sound of her reaction, he takes the full weight of her breast in his hand and toys with her nipple.

Aureia sucks in her breath and bites her lower lip. “Kiss me there,” she murmurs.

He smiles, eager to oblige. Shifting her in his arms, he kisses her once—open and warm, his hand still on her breast, caressing her—and trails kisses from her mouth to the hollow of her throat. His nose grazes her sternum. A little moan escapes her, muffled behind her closed lips, and he slows his pace, kissing the top of one breast and then the other. He trails kiss after kiss, some so soft they are barely a touch, some so fierce he fears he will leave a mark.

She gasps and shifts her weight, grinding against him. He flicks his tongue across her nipple and the sound she makes courses right through him. He’s hard again simply hearing it. Or perhaps it is the feel of her against him.  

Clutching her to him, Thancred skims a hand across her leg, exploring the inner thigh. “Where else?” he murmurs against her breast.

She drags her fingers through his hair and rolls her hips. Pleasure flares in the pit of his stomach. “Higher,” she teases.

He glides his hand up her thigh, the feel of her muscles far too enticing for words. Though he had shoved any fantasies of her aside long ago, it is quite easy to imagine them now—both the old and the new, far too many to enact in one night. The excitement is difficult to keep at bay.

She laughs and strokes her fingers across his cheek. “Higher still,” she says, kissing his forehead. “Although you must know it’s taking every ilm of my willpower not to trade places.” Her hand drifts between them, brushing his hardening length. “I want to feel you so damn badly—”

She cuts off with a gasp as his hand slides between her legs. He chuckles and captures her mouth with his, drinking in the little sounds he coaxes out of her. Her hair is a mess, clinging to the sides of her face and neck, but he doesn’t care to brush it away. Not now. She’s wet with desire, the scent of her intoxicating in a way he could never put to words. He strokes her, thrilled by the intimacy of touching her like this. When he skims the pad of his finger across her clit, she all but falls apart in his hands.

He circles slowly—luxuriously, even—and kisses her through waves of pleasure, drinking up every moment of it.

“Thancred, you…”

He strokes faster now.

Breathless and panting, she presses her hands to his face and rests her forehead against his. “Gods, I… You…”

Sensing he is driving her close to the edge, he turns his hand and glides his finger through her slick heat. It’s an awkward angle with her straddling his lap like this, but he nudges the entrance to her cunt, eager to slip inside her.

She kisses him fervently, desperately, unwilling to let her lips leave his. Her hand finds him rock-hard and throbbing, desire blooming instantly at her touch. She grasps him and tugs, her fingers quick to work that expert magic upon him.

He groans, distracted, and grips her hips. “Aur, I need—”

“I want you inside me.”

He squeezes his eyes shut and laughs, resting his head in the crook of her neck. “Dear gods, you took the words from my mouth.”

She laughs, too, and at the risk of thinking himself far too sentimental, it is one of the happiest sounds in recent memory.

Thancred grins and kisses her, resting a hand against the small of her back. In one smooth motion, he quickly flips her onto the bed, his weight pressing into her. She smiles and shifts, wrapping her legs around him once more. Locking eyes with him, she seizes his face in her hands and drags him down, giving him a long and fervent kiss. Lost in the feel of her mouth on his, he grasps himself and guides his hardened length to the entrance of her cunt.

He groans as he enters her. She’s wound so tight the sensation she draws from him is almost too much to bear. But the tip of his cock has barely slipped within her when she inhales a sharp breath and breaks the kiss. She falls back against the pillows, biting her lip as if in pain.

He stiffens. The sound of her uneasy breath makes his gut twist. “Aureia—”

Her legs tighten around him. “I’m fine,” she breathes. “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop—”

He presses further, feeling her stretch around him. The sound she makes is not one of pleasure.

Mouth dry, he pulls out and carefully lays down on his side next to her. She stares at the ceiling, her lower lip tucked into her teeth, tears in the corners of her eyes. Her breathing is laboured, her chest moving up and down at a rapid rate, almost as if she is hiding a desire to cry.

He brushes hair from her forehead. “Are you all right?” he murmurs.

“Yes. No. I…” She closes her eyes, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I thought I was over this, but… It’s always like this. I’m sorry.”

He slips his hand into hers and squeezes tight. “We don’t need this. Not if you don’t want it.”

“That’s the problem. I do. Badly.”

“Not at the cost of hurting you.”

“You wouldn’t be hurting me—”

“Say it that way if you wish, it doesn’t mean it will be true. But this is: I do not want to hurt you.”  

She swallows a shaky breath and curls up into him. His heart aches. She is so vulnerable, so raw, he can’t help but think of how this moment must mean for her. To have the fantasy of their relationship culminating so easily and so effortlessly dispelled like this…

All he can do now is hold her.

“You said it’s always been like this?” he asks after a moment.

She pauses. “Yes,” she replies quietly. “I don’t know why, there’s no reason for it. Someone once told me it was all in my head. That the pain I felt was because I was afraid. I’m not.”

“Certainly not. Of that I have no doubt.”

“I had years where it was fine. When I felt some semblance of being like everyone else. When I was with Aymeric.”

He swallows hard and nods, knowing it best to keep his mouth shut. The Lord Commander is a sore spot for them both—her, for her history with him and how it ended, him for his behaviour during the early years of that relationship. The jealousy and envy feasted away at him and he was too much of a coward to admit it, dumping the blame on her.

They were different people, then. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“I had hoped that that time fixed me for good. I suppose it didn’t.”

He strokes her hair. “You do not need to be changed or fixed or whatever other substitute you can think of. It will not stop me from loving you.”

“I know.” She curls tighter, burying her face in his shoulder. “I suppose I just… I had hoped that after everything… This one thing, this one night, could be normal.”

She clutches him to her and he can feel her heartbeat thundering against his. They lie there for some time, entangled together, listening to each other’s breaths. His mind is restless, turning over the events of the evening again and again, uncertain of what he wants. Or what she wants. His own arousal left him some time ago. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that it was the sound of her pain that did it.

They should sleep. It would be the wise thing to do; sleep and enjoy each other’s company. Free from whatever ideals they have in their heads, free from the pressure to make this night mean something more than it already does. They are here. Alive. Together. There is nothing more important than that.

But he can’t leave it like this. Not when she is upset and frustrated at something that is no fault of her own.

“Do you want to stop?” Thancred asks tentatively.

Aureia is quiet for a moment. Then it is her turn to say it.

“No.”

Her answer is clear and firm. Her lips find his and she kisses him so lightly it’s almost chaste. He groans and leans into it, his tongue brushing against her lips as if to ask for permission. Her mouth parts and she deepens the kiss, her body rolling against his, inviting him to touch her further. He cradles her, her skin warm beneath his palms, and an idea forms in his mind. Laying her gently back on the bed, he disentangles himself from her and trails kisses down her neck and chest. He roams, his hands and lips exploring her body, delighting in the small gasps he elicits when he brushes spots that are unexpectedly sensitive.

He works his way down her body, lavishing it in kisses. When he reaches her hips, he gently runs a hand along her inner thigh. She melts beneath his touch and her legs fall apart, urging him to touch her. One hand already twisting the bedcover as she shivers with anticipation.

He nestles between her legs and glides a finger through her folds, parting them. She gasps, breathless, and closes her eyes. Chuckling with delight, he brushes her clit and circles gently. He watches her, entranced by the way her back arches as she indulges in the pleasure.

He brushes the tip of his finger against the warmth of her entrance. “Tell me if this is too much,” he says.

She nods, eyes still closed. “One is fine,” she murmurs through trembling breath.

He slips a finger inside her and she shakes, clamping her mouth shut to suppress her moan. Her body gives way to him as he moves within her, gently coaxing pleasure from her with every thrust. Captivated by the sight of her and spurred on by her reaction, he lowers his head and presses his mouth ravenously to her cunt.

The first flick of his tongue has her mewling. He laughs, his voice muffled, and runs his tongue across her clit. She writhes, restless, her legs already shaking as he savours her, working in deliberate, slow circles. She is divine, and if he were a braver man perhaps he would wax poetic about it. But for tonight it is more than enough to worship her with his tongue.

He has a talent for it, after all.

He takes a breath and draws the sensitive bundles of nerves into his mouth. A keening mewl escapes her—not lewd, but so intensely sensual it is the most electrifying sound he has heard tonight. She raises an arm and her hand slams against the headboard, gripping it tight. She is wet and hot and more stunning than he could ever express, her heady scent heavy on his tongue.

“Add another,” she asks through laboured breath. “Please, I want to feel you so badly—”

He releases her clit and pulls back. “Aye,” he says. “But tell me if it is too much.”

“I will.”

He nods and brushes his fingers her cunt. His hand is quite coated now, shining with her slick. He dips the tips of his fingers in cautiously, but she does not protest. When he slides them in, she murmurs his name, the syllables lost in a trembling gasp.

Spurred on, he lowers his head and presses his mouth, hot and open, to her swollen clit. He strokes, fingers within, tongue lavishing her again and again, the sound of her moans buzzing in his ears. He thrusts gently, moving deeper each time, searching for that sensitive spot deep within her. She bucks, her hips moving with him, riding the waves of coiled heat.

“I—Thancred—”

He thrusts with his fingers, once, twice, indulging in the rhythm that has her wild for him. His lips press against her clit, nipping and sucking, marveling in her taste. He can feel his own pleasure mounting. The sound of her aroused by his touch stokes a fire in his gut.

Aureia moans, the sound strangled in the back of her throat. Releasing the headboard, she pushes herself up and runs her fingers through his hair, gently raising his head. “Not yet,” she breathes, sweat shining on her brow, hair plastered to her neck and forehead. “Not yet. I want to try again.”

He looks at her. “Are you sure?”

She nods. “Come here.”

He sits up carefully, wiping her slick from his mouth with the back of his hand. She smiles at the gesture and presses a hand to his face, running her thumb across his lips. Pressing her hands into his shoulders, she pulls herself into his lap.

“That felt amazing, you know,” she says, kissing him.

“You certainly sounded like you were enjoying it.”

“I did.” She wraps her legs around him, situating herself comfortably. Nuzzling his cheek, she trails kisses down his jaw and throat. Her fingers brush his archon’s marks. “More than tempting to see how long we could last.”

“Oh? Is that mayhap a challenge I hear in your dulcet tones?”

“Perhaps. I remember you boasted once about your ability to hold your breath for ten minutes.”

“Ah.”

“What did Alphinaud call it? Your ‘preternatural lung capacity?’”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“You weren’t only talking about water, were you.”

He coughs, flushing. “Well… in that instance I was, but now that you mention it—”

She cuts him off with a kiss. He groans, melting into it, heat coiling deep within him as he feels her hands on his cock. He hardens, the rush of blood leaving him hazy, and kisses her fervently, his hands supporting her back as she shifts in his lap. Her breath hitches as she guides him into her, the exquisite heat all but electrifying.

He’s terrified of her hurting. Terrified of her pain. But she persists, stubborn to fault, begging her body to work the way she wants it to. He relinquishes control, trusting her to set her own pace, take her own time as she adjusts to the feel of his girth. But whatever they’ve done—his attention to her beforehand, the change in positions, perhaps a combination of both—is visibly easier on her now. And finally, after an excruciating moment of slow, aching bliss, she takes all of him within her.

Thancred clutches her to him, brushing damp hair off her forehead and away from her shoulders. “Are you all right?” he asks.

In response, she moves. Slowly at first, but the roll of her hips is mesmerizing. “I think so,” she says.

He kisses her. The sensation of being within her—not knowing where she ends and he begins—is almost too much to bear. It’s been a long time. Too fucking long, so long he can scarcely remember the last time. The fact that she is here, the fact that it is her…

Gods, he loves her.

He can’t look away from her, nor she from him. He kisses her, again and again and again—her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her throat. Messy, open kisses that fill him with everything of her. He kisses her until his lips may very well be on fire. His hands rake across her back without hesitance. He presses a hand to her breast, caressing her, stroking her, merely adding more fuel to the fervent passion that has taken a hold of her. She shifts, inviting him deeper within her, and he is nearly overcome.

The moonlight cuts through his darkened room, illuminating them in a pool of silver. Her ruby eyes are bright, her hair a tangled mess about her shoulders. They pull apart, crash back together, then apart again, consumed by need and want. Sweat shines on her face, her collarbone, her breasts—and she’s not alone, they’re both sweat-slicked by now. She leans in and captures his mouth with hers, raking her fingers through his hair as she rides him. Her pace is exquisite, mesmerizing, making him feel things he had forgotten. Or perhaps ones he had never known.

He groans, nearly spent, the pleasure coiling within him making his mind a haze. He feels every ilm of her, here in his arms, pressed against him. Desperate to give her as much as she is giving him, he slips a hand between them and circles her swollen clit. She moans, throwing her head back at the touch, the bud still far too sensitive from his earlier ministrations. Her pace quickens, seeking a rhythm between her rolling hips and his stroking fingers.

Breathless, Auriea loops her hands around his neck and locks eyes with him as they lead each other to the brink. She shudders and gasps as the pleasure takes her, clenching around him. He murmurs her name, tears blurring his vision, and clutches her to him as he reaches his own release. She holds him tight, refusing to let him go as she sees him through to the end.

Shaking and trembling, with no energy left for words, Thancred tucks her hair behind her ears and rests his forehead against hers. Aureia smiles, faint laughter on her lips, and presses her hands to his face. She inhales a trembling breath and nuzzles against him. They’re both spent, damp with sweat, delirious with happiness.

Together, they fall onto the bed, mindless of how it creaks beneath their weight. She squirms, rolling over, and curls up against him with her head resting on his chest. He holds her and runs his fingers through her hair, exhaling a long breath as he stares idly at the windows and the moonlight filtering through them.  

“Thank you,” she murmurs.

He glances at her. “There’s nothing to thank me for.”

“There is. Some day I will list all of it.”

A pause.

“You’re fine, Aur? Truly?”

She smiles. Even in her drowsiness, she is radiant. “More than fine. Trust me on that.”   

Another pause. He has almost reached the point where he is too tired to form words.

“I don’t suppose,” he begins after a moment. “That you…”

He trails off, uncertain what to say—if he even knew what it was to begin with. Somehow, lying with her here is not enough. He feels compelled to say something, even if he doesn’t know what it is. It’s there, on the tip of his tongue. If only he could find it.

“…I’m sorry,” he finishes. “I’m afraid you’ve left me speechless and I have lost that thought.”

Aureia hums and snuggles closer. “It will come back to you, I’m sure. And when it does, I’ll be here to hear it.”

He chuckles and kisses the top of her head.

She falls silent, lost her thought. Her hand rests on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Or, at least, what counts for a heartbeat in this conjured body of his. But he breathes the same, bleeds the same, loves the same. Urianger and Y’shtola can argue the technicalities, but to him there isn’t much of a difference. Perhaps there never was.

“I love you, you know,” she says quietly. “So much.”

He has no words. He can only hold her tight.

They settle into content silence, too exhausted for conversation, and drift towards sleep. He gently strokes her hair, captivated by all the small joys her presence brings him. The weight of her head on his chest, the feel of her hand against his skin. The sound of her steady breath. The way her legs are tangled with his in an infinite loop.

It is only when she is fast asleep that he remembers what it was he wished to say to her.

[silverstonesainz-archive]

❝ of all people, why should it be you who hurt me ? ❞ + nyck de vries,, because i need a sprinkle of angst in my life 💔

here's a sprinkle <3

trust (ndv21) ─── like fine china, beautiful and delicate

trust is not an easy thing to come by. because with trust comes respect, it accompanies love and friendship. it is the basis of any relationship. it’s what you have in nyck. it’s a piece of you he holds, that he’s supposed to protect, because he loves you. 

nyck is the guy who holds your hand in the dark and when the sun is at its highest. he kisses your forehead in comfort, lips in excitement, and your cheek to say hello. he shows you love with every part of him, with his actions and words. and he looks at you like a kid looking at the moon following their car— always in awe. 

he’s proven worthy to receive every piece of you, so you give it to him. you give every single part of yourself over to him, because you trust him. and he’s never given you a reason not to. and in giving your all to him, you’ve turned yourself blind to the shift in your relationship. you don’t feel the way he slips away in the middle of night, because while you were buried in dreams of him, he buried himself in another. 

trust is like fine china, beautiful and delicate. but when it’s broken, it will never be the same. glue it together, do what you will, the cracks will always be there. there will always be bits missing, irrecoverable, nothing but a speck of dust to be swept and thrown away. gone forever.

nyck shattered your trust, slammed it against the hardwood floor. watched as it broke and scattered everywhere, watched as you bleed trying to walk across it to get to him. 

his eyes don’t look at you like you’re the moon. they’re pitch black, void of any stars and twinkle. guilt is weaved into his features, but he doesn’t look at you while you cry, begging him to tell you why he did what he did. he doesn’t give you an answer, he just stands on the other end of the room with his arms crossed over his chest, with the pieces of you and your relationship laying broken in the space that separates the two of you.

“do you even feel the tiniest bit guilty?” you whimper. 

“of course i do.” 

you’re not convinced. you shake your head as you shake with sobs. your breathing is labored, lungs struggling to welcome the air your body so desperately needs. tears stain nyck’s cheek, but the don’t fall like yours. they don’t fall for the broken trust, they fall in guilt. hatred wears you down, love tortures you. you were so tired, so broken, so defeated.

“of all people, why should it be you who hurt me?! i gave you all of me, loved you with all of me, and you do this?!” 

nyck turns away, he doesn’t see the way your face contorts into anger, doesn’t see the way your fist clenches by your side. you stomp over to him, pushing his shoulder. you slam the sides of your fist against him, the anger and hurt fueling you. and he lets you. 

“i trusted you!” you cry, your movements slowing to a stop. “i trusted you.”

he wraps his hand around your wrists, holding your hands close to his chest. you can feel his heart beating rapidly beneath his chest. “i’m sorry.” his voice shakes, filled with hurt, filled with regret.

“for what?” 

“everything.”

“the cheating?” you push, “for lying? or are you just sorry you got caught?” 

he meets your gaze, eyes studying every detail of your face. the sadness, the desperation, for an answer is written all over you. the words come up, stuck in his throat, stopping the air from coming in. you watch his lips open then close, then open again. you wait, hoping that he'd say something to make this all better, something to glue the pieces of you and your trust back together.

but the words never come. 

[thoraeth]

words: 3600

Summary: Welcome aboard the Challenger, a ship from Egghead with a crazy logpose! While Ava and Buggy find a way to coexist peacefully, Romi and her crew are pressured by Labophase.

Chapter 3 - Ceasefire

<CH2 CH4> | Read on Ao3

Ava is compressed against spiky metal bits, stinging like a million needles on her skin.

She’s been enveloped in the clown’s coat the whole time, but now that the debris doesn't move anymore, she can get that ripped fabric out of her face.

They’re in a big empty room, whose likeness she’s never seen before: the floor is completely hidden by metal scraps while the walls, light colored, are covered in weird panels and glowing buttons. That horrible claw crane is still dangling from the ceiling as an orange light flashes through the room.

“Jester?”

Something’s still weighing on Ava's body. Looking down at her lap, she notices a shadow entangled in the coat. It's an arm, a single arm with a gloved hand.

The woman screams. Crawling back on her elbows, she scans the room again: many other pieces of the pirate are peeking out among the debris, scattered around. Her stomach is in knots.

“It…it shredded him…”

Ava manages to get up when two panels in the wall behind her slide open. The flashing light stops and three people enter the room chatting loudly. They're all wearing a gray coverall and heavy combat boots.

“Allen, Torres, check the crane report. We should have got everything back.”

“Who died and made you queen, Meg?”

A muscular woman jumps in the debris while a brown skinned guy makes faces at her. A fellow big man, bald and middle aged, is tapping with both hands on a glitching panel.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” the woman's voice echoes in the distance.

“Meg? Is everything okay?”

“Guys, we’ve got a stowaway!”

Running through the scraps, the trio is upon Ava, surrounding her.

“How did you sneak in, uh?”

“This can't be for real…” Ava’s staring at the arm on the ground, shocked.

“Ugh, gross! If I see blood, I'm out of here.” the brown skinned man backs off with a disgusted expression.

“Torres!” The other growls “Sorry for your loss, sweetheart.” He brings his face closer to the frightened clandestine, speaking with a gentle voice. “I'm doctor Allen Stein. How about we clean your cuts and talk about what happened?”

With the corner of her eye, Ava is watching Meg: a big burn crosses her face, half hidden behind white curls. The woman picks up Buggy's arm and observes it from different angles.

“Doc.” she calls out “Isn't it a little too clean in here?”

As Meg speaks, the lifeless arm begins to levitate. Suddenly legs, hands, arms, ears fly across the room and swirl rapidly around her body. The pieces fit together in a blue haired man who grabs her from the back, pointing a sharp rod at her throat.

“ ‘Evening ladies and gentlemen. Get me the fuck outta here and no one gets hurt.”

Torres can't believe his eyes. “Where’d that dirty clown come from?!”

“It must be Devil Fruit powers, watch out!”

The two men block Ava and take a step back, pulling out their guns.

“Put all weapons down, please!” the woman yells. “It’s just a misunderstanding!”

“Relax, lads. You can keep her all you want.” the pirate smirks bitterly.

“Buggy, no!”

“Shut up! It's all your fault, shark girl!”

“What? You broke the cannon!”

As the quarrel goes on, one word ignites a sudden exchange of glances among the crew members. Meg looks up, resisting the rod sinking in her neck.

“Oh” she says stiffly “you're the Emperor.”

“Flash and bones, baby: the star clown, the genius jester, Warlord, president of Cross Gild! You’d better drop me off before my men hunt you down!”

“I hope you're a good swimmer, then.” Allen frowns. “We entered the calm belt half an hour ago.”

Buggy rolls his eyes, chuckling “Pathetic bluff, doc. How could you losers navigate the belts?”

“Deck 4, open airlock.”

Torres’ voice echoes through the room and the orange light on the ceiling flashes again.

The wall next to them splits and opens up with a loud hiss, revealing the open sea. Even if a light rain is rippling the sea surface, no wind comes in, the air outside is dense and stifling.

Buggy pushes Meg away, his heart plunging in his chest while observing the gigantic silhouettes of Sea Kings roaming underwater.

“I think you should meet our Captain, jester.” the woman suggests, massaging her neck.

The crew proceeds to escort Buggy and Ava out of the warehouse, through narrow corridors and steep stairs. The clown is quietly observing the place as they go: “That’s crazy! You can talk to the ship and it does things on its own. These shitheads do have something on their hands… I wonder if there's any gizmo I could steal.” He swallows nervously “At least I wouldn't return to Perona empty handed.”

The group stops in front of a wall with a glowing disk where Meg places her hand. Again, two panels activate, splitting and sliding open.

“Romi, we have guests.”

The woman leads the way through an extremely messy workroom, where the stowaways are fascinated by unknown machinery lying on a large counter. All around, glowing texts and shapes are glitching on the walls.

“What is that!” Ava gasps under her breath. A sleek device is cabled to a platform; it has a beat-up hollow wheel in the front and its lucid shell is heavily scratched. With a raspy voice, a dark skinned woman stands up behind the vehicle.

“If it's another hologram from Labophase, I swear…” She adjusts a pair of round eyeglasses in her wavy hair, still focused on her reparations.

Meg clears her throat: “He’s Buggy the clown, one of the Four Emperors. Him and the girl got caught in the crane.” The scarred woman walks up to the platform and whispers “Remember that talk we had before leaving Egghead? All those pictures and bounties?”

“What would you suggest?” the captain asks in a low voice.

“Diplomacy.”

Romi grabs a greasy towel, eying the intruders: Buggy the Emperor doesn't look that threatening in his messed up face paint and striped shirt; same goes for his blonde companion who wouldn't even sustain eye contact. The captain gets closer with a dim smile on her face. “What a privilege for us, Yonko. Welcome aboard the Challenger.”

“How kind.” Buggy replies, his voice flat “As much as I’d love to play tea party, Ma’am, I need you to take me back where you dug me up.”

“On 0348? No prob, it'll take a couple weeks.”

“Come again?”

“It’s our best outcome, so far: fifteen days to complete a lap of the Grand Line.”

The pirate laughs, confused. “You know you can literally turn the ship around, right?”

“No you can't, if the ship's the Challenger. Once we enter the belts, the Algopose decides where and when we stop next. It has to work its magic or we get lost for good.”

Buggy strokes his forehead, inhaling deeply. “A ship from the future that doesn't steer…” He can't decide whether to scream or cry his eyes out. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” he says in a low voice.

“It has its flaws, I give you that.”

“How about Karai Bari, then? How many decades to get there?”

“Let me check with JoyJoey. In the meanwhile, I think you should get some rest.”

Romi heads for the workroom’s exit, signaling everyone to follow her.

As she leads her crew and guests down a metal staircase, the clanging of their steps resounds all around, along with her voice. “You’ll like it in here. Some details aren't top-tier yet, but my ship has nothing to envy to that pretentious junk from Labophase.”

They turn into a wide corridor, evenly lit by tall lighted arches. Left and right, numbered panels tower over them.

“What’s Labophase?” Ava timidly asks.

Romi’s voice gets snarly. “Vegapunk’s lab, the cradle of the future…actually a bunch of old farts with gov money.”

“And weapons.” Buggy adds. “You guys do weapons too?”

The Captain picks up the pace.

“I refuse. Everybody wants to be the next professor V. and what’s come of it? Wooden ships still sink at Reverse Mountain but, oi, we’ve got the Pacifistas!”

Romi stops in front of a door and slaps the digital circle to reveal a bedroom.

“Stay as long as you need. It’s JoyJoey’s room but he never lefts the cockpit.”

Buggy stomps in first, taking a good look at the space. “Wow…gray, grates and weird stuff. Again.” he thinks, raising his eyebrows “What's with this dullness?”

He stops in front of a hexagonal niche and throws himself on the mattress placed inside.

Buggy is quite surprised: a cheerful crowd of shapes fills the hidden space around the bed. Small paper drawings are glued on the walls, in a chaotic whirlwind of colors. A smile lights up the clown's face.

“Ugh, he still hasn't cleaned this mess.” Romi leans inside the bed niche, reaching for a squared button.

A portion of the wall rolls up and natural light fills the room.

“JoyJoey’s our navigator” the woman says “The only one who gets to have a window here. You’re two lucky bastards!” she bursts out laughing.

Buggy sits up “Two? Oh no, Ma’am, I don’t share.”

“This is a small ship. It's either here or top deck, if you fancy the Belts at night.”

“Am I going to sleep on the floor?” Ava presses Romi.

“Hey, chill out! We've got bed modules.”

“Well then, take that module and shove it in one of your rooms.” Buggy growls "Ladies should go with ladies.”

“And strangers with strangers! You're not going anywhere until I trust you two.” Romi quickly reaches her crew, half hidden outside the room. She stretches a fake smile and presses her hand on the wall. The panels close, followed by a steamy noise.

Ava runs to the door, randomly hitting its surface with her palms.

“This is all your fault.” the pirate hisses behind her. “You’re always in my way and it's complete chaos, one bullshit after the other! You got me into this mess and I don’t know how to get out of it!”

As the words come out of Buggy's mouth, his voice gets shrill.

“Do you even understand how fucked I am? If those two find out I’m not at the camp they’ll think I’ve run off!”

“So what?” Ava snaps “You’ve run off! Call your pirate army and…I don't know, kill them. What can they do to you?”

“They own me.”

The two remain still, frowning at each other.

“I owe Sir Fucking Crocodile millions of Berry and the only reason I’m alive is that I’ll have to take a bullet for him if things go south!” the pirate’s face is altered by a desperate grin “I just wanted to forget about my shitty life for a day or two. Now I'm a dead man walking.”

“I’m truly sorry, Buggy. But again, this is not my fault.” Ava’s voice is shaky. “You made things worse by damaging that cannon.”

“Why am I even talking to you?! Get out of my sight!”

“Sure, you only want to talk when I'm useful… Like an hour ago, on that beach.”

Buggy raises his blue eyes towards Ava. “It was a polite chat to kill time.”

“And it was nice, can we stick to that?”

“No. They made us marry, but I can choose not to like you.”

“Ok, so what did I do to you? I was forced into that ring like you, I’m miserable as you are miserable and yet I’ve been nothing but kind.”

“Oh, the hypocrisy! You didn't want to be killed, that's all.”

“That too, yes!” Ava yells, her green eyes open wide. “For the first time I was my own person and I thought it would be great, however I'm still sleeping on the floor and constantly being yelled at…No matter how far I go, I'm still stuck.”

The atmosphere within the room turns sad. Ava tries to hold back tears, her eyes reddened.

“Still stuck.” Buggy echoes, sitting on the bed again. He rests his head on his palms and lets go of a long puff: “Even if I wiped you all out, it would be me and the Sea Kings anyway. I guess I'd better not waste my energy and find a way to handle this mess.”

One of his hands flies towards Ava. The woman’s eyes light up as his dirty fingers take her hand and firmly shake it.

“Now. The only way I can survive Croc and Mihawk is with information; a lot of information. A slave with information is worth more than a Yonko, I'll tell you that much.”

“So you're a slave now?” Ava sighs, sitting on the floor next to the pirate.

“Do you think slaves only come with a skin mark? Buckle up for the real world, babe.” Buggy smirks. “Anyway. During these two weeks I have to squeeze out the science gang and I expect your full collaboration, Ava.”

The woman looks up to the clown’s crazed glance, worried.

“…within my heart

Daisy, Daisy

planted one day by a glancing dart…”

The bright sky of the Belts reflects on a large hexagonal mirror, a translucent surface hiding a tidy bed. Ava is zipping up her gray coverall and leans forward to check a pimple on her forehead. “Enough with the singing, jester, it's time to go!” she chuckles.

Her roommate’s image appears in the mirror: Buggy is untangling his wet hair, shaking the dripping brush towards Ava with a childish grin. She pushes him away and jumps on the messy bed next to the window.

“I’ll miss this a little.” she thinks, tying up her boot's laces.

Over those days, she has grown fond of the clown’s weird songs. She'd often slow down in the morning, listening to him humming with his hair slit back and his face still clean.

“Room, Mirror off.” Buggy exclaims. The reflections fade away and the hexagon goes back to a bed module. Throwing a piece of charcoal on the floor, the pirate exits the room, his face covered in intricate black shapes.

“So, how are we feeling?” Ava asks, walking with him under the light arches.

“I don’t know. I hope our little present will please my colleagues enough to keep my head close to the rest.”

“It’s more than enough; that nose of yours will still be attached to your face tomorrow.” the woman winks at him.

“No shit.” Buggy fakes a grunt “Luckily, you're good at science ‘cause you'd make a horrible comedian.”

“You mean I can't apply for your circus?”

“Of course you can. CEO of Den Dens’ maintenance, right away!”

They enter the lunchroom smirking as the challenger’s crew is eating breakfast around a long metal table, arms chaotically mingling over full plates.

“You two!” Romi shouts “Thank god the jester’s getting off this ship today, I’m fed up with your nightly chats! What’s with sharing your whole life’s stories at 4am? People need to sleep!”

“Sorry Romi.” Ava says quietly, pouring herself the last drop of tea.

“Oh, c’mon Buggy.” the Captain continues. “Stop it.”

The pirate mutters through his full cheeks “I told you a million times, mind your business.” He’s eating with his hands, seated on the table with his legs spread. As usual, Ava sits behind him, hidden from the rest of the crew. After some time, though, Buggy feels a light touch on his arm: Ava's whispering to him to let go. The blue haired man sits properly and drags his chair. “I did what I could, she's on her own now.” he thinks, cracking a smile.

“So…what do I do with Labophase? They called again.” Meg is urging Romi who’s aggressively munching on her breakfast.

“Those Assholes!” the Captain shouts “Five years of research: no questions, no money. We sink half a cannon and it's three calls a day!”

“It might get into the wrong hands; they do have a point.” Allen objects.

“Tsk. They’re just scared they’ll no longer be the ones running the game.”

Torres waves his spoon, spitting cornflakes as he speaks: “I think we kinda leveled the field. If pirates and marines have the same tech, they’re…even?”

“Commoners will appreciate the fair play, no doubt.” Meg snaps, scathing.

“Guys, really, I can’t do this.” Romi’s voice gets weak, her face pale and drawn.

“Tell Labophase we won’t go search for it. Our funds are running out and the drifter is still unusable. I…I can’t sacrifice all of this on a fucking weapon.”

The Captain stands up abruptly. “Yonko, ready to disembark in four hours.” She cuts the conversation short and storms out of the lunchroom.

The atmosphere among the crew has gotten heavy, so Ava leads Buggy out. The two are walking through Deck 2, chatting and joking, when orange flashing lights go off throughout the ship.

A low rumble rises, growing and growing below the hull and the Challenger begins to roll: slowly tilting left and right, the floors become unsteady and random objects come tumbling down from the rooms.

“Shit!” Buggy holds Ava up. “Out of the Belts already?!” he mouths in the middle of the deafening noise. Clinging to his floating hand, the woman cries out: “It's the Algopose! We're early!”

Amidst that chaos, a familiar voice croaks from above: “Initiate safety protocol, remote commands are not responding.” All of Romi’s distress is coming out of the speakers. “Lab 2 is top priority. Ava, take Buggy to Lab 3 immediately.”

Ava visibly gaps. She moves quickly, sliding and falling. The jester presses his hand against her back, guiding her away from slamming into the walls when a new wave hits.

They run past Romi’s lab, where Meg and Torres are securing all the gimmicks, then Ava stops in front of a second door. As its panels slide open, Buggy cannot believe his eyes.

It’s a chemistry lab. Powders, burners, beakers, flasks everywhere. “It’s… beautiful.” the pirate thinks, gawping.

Ava’s cries for help harshly bring him back to reality: all those shiny objects are rolling and flying off their shelves, shattering on the floor in thousands of pieces.

“Lab 3, lock in place!” Ava orders, tinkering with a touch panel and hitting it with the palm of her hand. A number of boxes go back to their position, retained by an invisible force, while others are grasped by Buggy, his limbs moving frantically around the room.

As hours go by, the ominous rumble of the sea seems to quiet and the floor tilting gets gentler. Exhausted, Ava and Buggy slide down a wall, surrounded by glass splinters.

“These people are out of their fucking mind!” the pirate shouts “We could explode!”

“On normal days…it’s all locked up…” Ava wheezes

“Why did they send you? You need someone who knows how to handle this stuff!”

“No one here knows.” Ava replies. “I mean, from what I saw, Romi knows a little, but not nearly enough to help with the Drifter.”

“Is that why Captain Four Eyes was crying into her breakfast?”

“Yup. Last tests didn't go well…It keeps shutting down. Didn't make it past the lab’s doors.”

“I could have helped! There must be something useful here.”

“You could? It’s a pity you did nothing but sleep and eat the whole time, then.”

“Like this and this, or that” Buggy’s finger is pointing at colored liquids and powders around the lab. “Mix together and…boom! Whatever that thing is, they're gonna fish it out of the East Blue!” he sneers.

“That's not the point, Doctor Vegaclown!

Where did you learn all this, though?”

“I loved to do experiments as a kid, back on the Oro Jackson… A lifetime ago.” Buggy smiles while twirling some glass tubes around his fingers. “How do you think I make my Muggy bombs, uh? You don’t need books to make those beauties!”

Ava laughs heartily, as the pirate turns into a rambling child, jabbering on and on about his favorite topic. As Buggy lets himself go, a warm feeling makes its way through Ava's chest. What a shame he had to go back to his Yonko life.

“Hey, Bug, since you're good with chemistry.” Ava looks down “You should find a way to read someone's blood, to check where they’re from.”

“What does it even mean?”

“If you’d test Meara…you'd be a slave with a hell of a leverage. Crocodile won't touch you again.”

“I see.” The pirate frowns.

During their nightly chats, Ava told him about her relatives and Meara’s cruelty to all of them. “But this? What's with Read’s blood now?” he thinks.

“Also, if you keep your head…make something again.” the woman flushes. “It must be nice to be around you when you’re that happy.”

Buggy stares at Ava, looking for a funny, witty remark, but nothing comes to mind. He definitely is unhappy, through and through. Still, he has to admit her words have given him some sort of hopeful, nostalgic feelings; as if there were a small shard of himself, buried deep inside, that isn't completely dead.

Romi’s voice echoes from the speakers: “Attention, crew. We entered the Grand Line in the middle of a storm. Again. But no losses this round, so…good job. Buggy, come to the cockpit, we're one hour away from Karai Bari.”

“It's time.” The pirate gets up, his hands in his pockets. “All in all, it was fun. I'm sorry you got such a shitty husband but I'm sure you'll do great with the science gang.”

As he walks out, a deep uneasiness jolts through Ava's chest. Words escape her lips, louder that she'd like them to be: “I’ll miss our chats at night. Take care, Buggy.”

[littlebirdygirly]

Day 3: “That Was Not My Intention.”

Original Fiction

Summary: A first person look into waiting for someone to walk through the door.

Comments: I really liked this one, so I’ll definitely go back and edit it more later, but for now, here it is!

Warnings: Mild depictions of blood/injury, worry and anxiety.

Story:

Thoughts. Thoughts everywhere. Some good, some bad. Some so hideously grotesque that I couldn’t bear to focus on them, instead making sure they slipped by in the whirling slideshow of my mind. The continuous tick, tick, tick of the seconds passing by matched the steady beating of my heart. Tick, tick, tick. For what felt like the thousandth time that evening, I checked my watch, hoping, praying, that mere minutes had passed in the lifetimes I’d felt myself waiting. Twenty past one. I resumed my vigil, staring unmovingly at the door. With every breath, I wished the knob to turn. With every second ticking by, I wished for footsteps stomping up the steps.

Instead, nothing but silence reached my ears.

Tick, tick, tick.

Unable to take it anymore, I rose to my feet, the old couch I’d resided on groaning in protest, and walked into the kitchen, my bare feet pattering across the linoleum as I prepared myself for one thing. Ice cream. It was the only thing strong enough to take the edge off the waiting.

Dishing myself up an outrageously large bowl of vanilla – the good stuff, the only kind I could stomach when I was like this – I propped myself up on the counter and tried to ignore the door practically screaming to be stared at. Even turning my back on it didn’t have the desired effect. Waves of nothing screamed so loudly behind me that it was deafening. And, in turn, I wanted to scream with it. Worries turned into discord as my emotions warred with my logic, slowly terrorizing my thinking until all reason was taken over. What if… What if… What if he…

“NO!”

Reflexively, I slammed the bowl down so hard it shattered into pieces, scattering chaotically across the counter, the linoleum, even the hardwood in the other room. A sharp sting blossomed on my forearm, and I looked down to see a bright red cut slowly bleeding down my wrist. I sighed, leaning across the now-hazardous countertop for a damp dishcloth and clasping it tightly onto the wound before carefully climbing off my seat onto the bedlam of the floor below. Haphazardly rinsing the wound in the sink, I replaced the dishcloth onto my arm and tied it tightly around the injury, wincing slightly as the security all but pinched off my circulation. Oh well. With light, careful steps, I traversed the sharp, glistening kitchen until I was close enough to the cleaning closet to clumsily pull out a broom.

The tiny, crystalline shards of glass tinkled pleasantly as I swept them into a pan, promptly discarding them in the kitchen’s stainless steel trash bin before leaning cautiously onto the floor and arresting the smaller nooks and crannies with a hand duster.

I was so focused on the task that I didn’t even hear the soft creak of the door opening, the muffled thud of heavy boots being removed, the quiet footsteps of a person moving about the house. Until eyes on the back of my head sent a vague shudder of unease up my spine, and I turned around to see–

“What are you doing?”

A loud cry left my lips, and without thinking, I jumped onto my feet and barrelled into the chest of the man standing in my doorway, wrapping my arms securely around him and causing him to stumble unsteadily for a moment before returning the favour, wrapping his strong arms tightly around me, squeezing me into his safety, his warmth.

The dam broke.

Gasping, shuddering sobs broke free of the tension in my body, my fingers shaking, clinging to the fabric of his shirt, as tears soaked a puddle in front of my face.

“Hey, hey, hey. Shhhhh.” The man rubbed a comforting arm down my back, running his fingers up and down the trail of my spine, pulling me closer in his embrace. “Shhhhh, baby. What’s wrong?”

I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, tears glistening in my eyes and blurring the image before me. “You-you were supposed to be home hours ago!”

Regret tinged his expression. “I know. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. The boss called for a late-night meeting, and then traffic was cut off because of a horrific accident. My radio was going through the roof with requests to help clean up the mess, and between that and my partner screaming steady chatter at me through the comms, I just— I completely forgot I’d told you I’d be home by ten tonight. I’m sorry.” He pulled me in close again, laying a feathery kiss to the top of my head and whispering into my hair. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. That wasn’t my intention.”

A shaky sigh expelled itself from my lungs, and I buried my head deeper into the solid warmth of his chest. “It’s okay. Just… don’t do it again, okay?”

“I promise.”

His baritone voice rumbled through his chest, and I hummed contentedly, soaking in the position for what felt like hours before his hold shifted, slowly pulling back, his gaze finally traversing the room and taking in the makeshift bandage on my arm, the occasional piece of glittery glass still lining the kitchen floor.

“What, uh… what happened?”

An awkward chuckle left my lips, my lashes fluttering briefly against my cheeks before rising up to give a shy half-smirk. “Well, I had to pass the time somehow.”

His sharp gaze took in the look on my face, then the state of the kitchen, before focusing his full attention on the rag tied to my arm. A sharp gasp escaped my lips when he tried to peel the material away, causing a deep frown of concern to mar his features as he revealed the wound beneath. His lips set into a firm line.

“What exactly did you do to clean this, baby?”

Pink flooded my cheeks, and I looked away, taking in the glass sparkling in the overhead light. “Rinsed it under the kitchen sink.”

He sighed and shot me a pointed look, one that I could feel without even looking up, before throwing his hand out to me and waiting for me to take it.

“C’mon. Let’s go get you cleaned up.”

A soft smile graced my lips, and I took his hand, letting myself fully relax into his touch. He was home. I didn’t need to worry anymore.

[wildestdreamcatcher]

if you’re still looking for oc fic requests, maybe one focused on Summer and Lennon?

The Betrayal of Trust

Summary: Lennon goes through Summer's personal things and breaks the little trust she had in him

TW: Mentions of trauma, angst, being in distress

A/N: TYSM for the request and I hope you love this fic!!

I knew it was risky but Summer wasn’t supposed to be home until 7 because of cheer. I sat on her bedroom floor with all of her sketchbooks, the journals she had written for therapy, and a keepsake box of her pictures of her friends and Jude, I was looking through everything. Her journals were very descriptive of the things that Jake had done, and the bullying she went through at school but in some of the pages she wrote about Jude and how “in love” they were. Some of her art was very pretty; she had an affinity for drawing landscapes with pastel colors, but some were significantly gory, gross, and disgusting. She had dated a few of the more dark pieces and I guess the themes she was painting about coincided with her emotions at the time.  I remember during the 2 years when she rarely left the house she’d stay in her room all day and draw so maybe but I never knew her pieces were like this. I had this routine of going through her stuff while she was gone at practice for almost 3 years, and I timed everything perfectly. I knew my parents would kill me if they found out I was going through all her shit, especially since Summer and I were seemingly making progress with therapy. 

I started looking through Summer’s keepsake box. There were different polaroids and photobooth strips of them, a mixtape he made her, a dried bouquet (she’d kill me if she knew I just accidentally broke off one of the petals), I noticed a few of his rings and bracelets she had in the box. She’s always been very sentimental so I guess she collected everything he ever gave her in this box. I thought I had enough time when I looked at the clock. She wasn’t supposed to come until another 1 hour which would give me enough time to clean up. I started to read through more pages of one of her journals when my heart dropped. 

“WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!?!” 

I could hear the drop of Summer’s cheer bag as she started to yell. She sounded panicked and distraught. I knew I was utterly, and completely fucked.

I wasn’t supposed to be home from cheer practice for another hour but my cheer coach had a family emergency so practice ended early. My parents wouldn’t be back from work for another hour so Lennon and I would have the house to ourselves until then. I walked into my room and that’s when I saw him: Lennon had everything from my keepsake box dumped out and he hadn’t even noticed a few of the petals from the first bouquet Jude had ever given me had fallen, he had all of my therapy journals scattered across the floor like they were fucking trash, and my paintings were on the other side of the room since I guess they weren’t as interesting enough for him. I was mortified and humiliated as he stood up and tried to make up some idiotic excuse. 

“Summer I-I” He stuttered out. I ripped the journal out of his hand, tears clouding my vision. 

“Who gave you the fucking right, Lennon?! What made you think you could go through all of my things and toss them to the fucking side like trash?! Those are my belongings! No one was supposed to see the journals or the art, not a damn soul!!” 

Lennon didn’t even look like he cared, he only looked slightly phased. I yelled for what felt like forever until he finally left the room. I scrambled to collect everything and cried as more petals fell off the bouquet, put all the art and journals into the box they were. I hide everything in a different hiding spot, knowing I need to get a lockbox so this doesn’t happen again.  I thought Lennon and I were starting to get close again. Therapy was beginning to help more, we were talking things through more, and things just seemed nicer now I don’t know what to think anymore.

@blowflygrls @sadlonelyyogurt @vommitgirl

[sbeep]

The Kiss at the End

Fiction ft my dragonborn, Talos Stormshield, in which he builds a house. These parts begin before the events of TES: V and will weave throughout it.

Act 1,  How to build a home in Skyrim.  

Parts 1 & 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Part 4, Hearth

Without either of them noticing, three days became three weeks. Weather turned and the mornings grew colder. What few birch trees were scattered amongst the pines turned gold, then brown, then lost their  colour entirely. Three weeks unfolded into three months. Autumn balanced on the cusp of true winter and Tal could scarcely imagine a day he didn't wake and greet the dunmer as they met on the way to the lake. 

"I think the hearth will be set today," Tal said, breaking the easy silence as they trudged towards the larger house. The mortar had been defeated for a full week by the hard frosts, come early this year, but last night there had been no ice on the grass. 

"Ever the optimist," Kato answered with a huff that Tal had come to learn meant the dunmer agreed. "You can light your first fire." 

They kept pace easily with one another, an unspoken haste growing in their strides at the thought of a warm start to the morning. Work hadn't been slow, but neither had they hurried to beat the season's turn. Stepping the familiar track to his soon-to-be home, Tal had begun to wonder why. He always knew he would enjoy building a place to live with his own hands. He hadn't counted on sharing the work to be such a thing to savour. 

And by now, Kato had plenty of arrows hand-made by the young nord to last him the year. 

"I surely hope so," Tal mused with a gentle smile. "I want breakfast." 

The two men reached the house with hours of the morning still ahead. Tal produced his key, a heavy iron thing with an elegant fishtail bow at its end- Kato's idea after they caught a fat salmon for supper the day before he fashioned it. It turned smoothly in the matching lock engraved with ripples like the lake beyond. He pushed open the door. Though the place was dark and cool, it smelled clean and dry. They had done good work. 

Perhaps he shouldn't have thought their progress was leisurely when Tal could step forward into the hall and glance off to three other rooms, and stairs up to two more. Thatched roofing, wattle and daub walls, stained oak beams and a generous hearth made that first drawn plan on a borrowed piece of parchment feel like a very long time ago. Two years of earning gold, hauling timber and working alone had worn his hands and emptied his pockets, but now Tal stood in his own house where soon he'd put his own bed, and there was another small abode just across the stream to boot. 

"Not too shabby," Kato said over his shoulder, leaning down a little so his voice could stay low and not jolt Tal from his thoughts. He seemed to read them easily. They both took stock, Kato's fingerprints as much on the place now as the blacksmith's. "Has the masonry set?" 

Tal looked to the hearth and bent down to it, swallowing his held breath. He gripped the grey stonework that formed the rectangular hearth and gave it an experimental wiggle. It didn't budge. 

"Any good, sera?" Kato almost whispered.

He tried another brick. Another spot. His knuckles turned white as he did his best to move the immovable and Tal's smile broke into a grin. 

"It's good. It's very good." 

"Then strike up a fire already." Kato clapped the blacksmith on the shoulder. "I'm starving."

It took no time at all to build a healthy flame in the bare hearth. Oak logs had been stored for months and venison, caught by Kato a moon ago, was hung and ready to eat. It all seemed to be falling into place, Tal thought, as he watched the lean meat sizzle in the skillet. Already the fire had chased the chill out of the hall. Soon they could bring furniture to the houses, odds and ends, and stock the larder full before winter made the markets sparse. And last of all, he could bring Kjarten out of the city to his new home. Tal smiled to think of the old man back in the wilderness where he longed to be. 

He blinked as the toe of a boot knocked lightly against his knee. Tal looked up at the dunmer beside him, a little smirk curled around his tusks, too. Only Kato was looking down at him, not staring off into the distance.

"What?" Tal asked, taking the skillet off the hot coals before the meat could catch. 

Kato was quiet. He often was, choosing his words and moments with care, but there was some weight to the silence Tal couldn't place. Some emotion in the dunmer's crimson eyes he didn't recognise. He'd never truly seen it before.

"I was thinking I might stay in Skyrim over winter," Kato said at last. He reached to idly scratch his cheek and chewed around a tusk. "I don't feel like travelling."

Tal quickly looked back to the skillet he held. His cheeks grew warm and not from the coals of the fire. Like he'd missed a step on a flight of stairs, his stomach swooped and his chest grew tight. Busying his hands, he fished the meat out of the pan and onto a smooth oak board to slice it. Kato cut slices of soft sourdough bread and between them they assembled unwieldy venison steak sandwiches. Just before Kato could take a bite, Tal bade him to wait. He'd almost forgotten the herb seasoning. 

"You could stay here, if you want. Now the place is done. There's room." Tal made the offer halfway through their breakfast. He chose a moment when Kato's mouth was full and the dunmer couldn't answer right away, but thick brows rose. 

He swiftly turned his own eyes down to his meal. He couldn't bear to look back up at the dunmer. If he said no, he didn't want to see that word pass Kato's lips. 

"That's true. There's room." The dunmer was guarded. 

Suddenly Tal's belly was too full of butterflies to take another bite. 

"I'll take that one," Kato gestured and the motion drew Tal's gaze up to see where he was pointing. The room beneath the stairs, the smallest. "Shortest distance the larder. And that way, you can pass me by every time you insist on waking before dawn." 

Kato said it so firmly, he could only have already gone through the words. He'd been thinking about it before now, surely. No wonder he'd spent so much time cramming up every possible gap in the daub walls of that room. The dunmer didn't want to sleep with a drought. 

"Don't look too pleased about it," Kato chuckled dryly. 

Tal had been smiling, brightly and without noticing at all. He wiped a few crumbs from his lip with the back of his hand and looked back to his sandwich. He didn't feel much like eating now; eager energy insisted he fold it up in cloth, save it for later and get to work right away. Tal did so, and Kato arched a brow. 

"Where are you going?" 

"To get the horses," Tal said hurriedly, though there was no need to hurry at all. "Maybe Skulvar will lend me a wagon from the stable to get everything down here today." 

The warm look in Kato's eye returned. When Tal saw it, he didn't know whether to drink it in or shy away. He shuffled back and forth as he stowed his things. When he was packed, he stole an unabashed glance at Kato and found the man smiling. 

"Are you coming?" 

Kato sighed. He gave the sandwich a longing, heartsick look. "I suppose I am," he conceded, and packed his things away too. 

"Men," he sighed as they left all but the necessaries behind. They'd be travelling light and hauling a lot. Kato clapped Tal on the shoulder and let his hand linger as Tal laughed. "Always in a rush."

"Mer," Tal countered, like he had a dozen times before, and broke into a jog out of the front door. "Just can't keep up!"

[kpoptwitches]

omg can I have a mafia Jungkook reaction of you having to fight someone off and being really scared :( pls make him sweet <3

|| Of course! Here you go, I’m so sorry for the long ass wait🌻 ||

Everything Will Be Okay

Warnings: strong language, violence, mentions of blood, reader almost being assaulted

“I’m sorry, Rose, but your time is up in this competition. Please pack up your stuff and head back home.”

“What the in the actual fuck,” you bellowed, tossing some buttered popcorn kernels at the T.V. screen, “She didn’t deserve to leave!”

Grabbing the remote off the glass coffee table in front of you, you flicked the television off, to frustrated to continue mindlessly watching what was on the screen.

“Stupid reality T.V. The judges seriously don’t know what they are on about.”

Your eyes shifted down to the popcorn bowl on your lap then back up to the screen. A sharp gasped escaped from your chest at the sight. Clear as day stood a black figure a few feet behind the couch you were seated on. Whirling your head around, you scanned the area behind you, expecting to see the same figure from the screen, but no one was there.

“Okay, my imagination can fuck off..”

Cautiously standing up from the comfort of the couch cushions, you hesitantly crept over to the doorway of the living room.

“Hello? Kook,” you called out, “Look, if you’re trying to freak me out then you should be glad to know that it’s working!”

A creak in the floorboards behind you made your whole body freeze in place. Menacing shivers crawled their way up your spine, erupting a series of goosebumps across your skin.

“We’ll I’m glad to hear that.”

A gruff voice broke the every silence. Reluctantly, you turned around to face the figure standing behind you. Your eyes squinted, trying to make out any sort of features of the man standing only a couple feet away. The perpetrator wore all black, effortlessly blending in with the darkened surroundings. All you could make out was the man’s eyes. Which were unfortunately full of sinister intentions.

“It looks like Jungkook’s little lamb has been left all alone. What a pity. I was hoping to run into your boyfriend, but I guess you’ll have to do.”

“Who .. Who are you,” you cautiously asked, instinctively taking a few steps back.

The man’s eyes began twinkling with dark amusement, moving his gaze to roam your body.

“I don’t think you need to know that,” he mumbled, taking a simultaneous step forward, “You know, I’m starting to feel almost a sense of remorse for you. Such a beautiful girl about to come to a horribly gruesome end.”

Bile started building up in your throat as his words rolled off his tongue. Nausea was creeping in - fast.

Gruesome end?

“How about we make things a tad bit more fair, baby? I’ll give you a five second head start. Starting .. now.”

Not wanting to hesitate and waste even a millisecond of the time you’ve somehow been spared, your body dashed out of the living room, heading straight for the front door. It seemed as if the five seconds flew by faster than expected as the booming sound of harsh footsteps started up behind you.

Your hand clasped down onto the cool metal of the doorknob, twisting it as fast as you can. But before you could yank the piece of wood open, a hand entangled itself through the already messy locks of your hair, throwing you down to the ground. A sharp shriek of pain left your lips when your head collided with the tile floor. A small cluster of black dots scattered across your vision only to slowly dissipate seconds later.

“Oh, how I wish Jungkook could see you right now.” the man snarled, his boot connecting with your ribs, “You look so perfectly pathetic like this.”

The impact knocked all air out of lungs causing a burning sensation to flow throughout your body like wildfire.

“I could just imagine the pure rage that would take over him.”

If it wasn’t for the mask covering his mouth, you’d imagine him trailing his tongue across his bottom lip. The way he spoke - the way he peered down at you - screamed the disgusting satisfaction this whole situation was giving him.

“Please,” you coughed out, “Please, stop it!”

The man snickered at at your pleads causing a pang of humiliation to hit your chest. You watched in horror as he closed the gap between you two. He slowly crouched down to the floor before crawling overtop of your pained figure. 

“I wonder what will hurt him more.. Killing you or scarring you?” 

After those dreadful words left his lips, his hand flung out, gripping the thin fabric of your shirt, and yanking as hard as he could. A sickening sound of the shirt’s fibers being ripped rang throughout the room. 

“No, no stop,” you screamed, your own hands shooting out to hold the fabric together.

The man just chuckled at your efforts before moving down to your jeans. You cried out and felt your vocal cords stinging at the sharp vibrations. Your eyes frantically searched around the two of you while you kicked out your legs, successfully hitting him in the jaw. 

“Feisty,” he sang out, “Just how I like ‘em.”

He cracked his neck before holding your legs still, his fingernails harshly digging in. Your eyes frantically looked around the both of you in desperation, hoping to find something - anything - to defend yourself. Then your teary gaze fell upon a pair of sparkly heels sitting only a few feet away.

You forgot to put them away after stumbling home from a night out.

The man’s eyes followed your stare and paused. He could tell exactly what you were planning. In a split second, he shot forward at the same time as you, trying to stop you from reaching the only weapon around. Before he had the chance to get close, your fingers grabbed the strap and you swung the point of the heel towards him, making contact with the man's forehead. 

He let out a cry before it was quickly replaced with a growl. You reacted before he had the opportunity to regain his senses and kicked out your foot once again, smashing his head into the wall. His entire body fell limp directly after the impact. Upon a closer look, there was a brand new dent in the drywall, right where his skull made contact. 

As the adrenaline pumping through your veins slowly died down, you noticed a thick pool of blood beginning to form around the man’s head, soaking into his mask. You barely had time to register any of the details of what had transpired before the front door opened to reveal the only person you wanted to see. 

“K-Kook,” you called out before shooting up and throwing your arms around him. 

Jungkook didn’t hesitate to respond to your embrace by wrapping his arms securely around you. Although, he kept his eyes fixated on the unconscious individual in the corner. All the tears you were desperately trying to hold back escaped as you began sobbing into his shoulder.

“It’s okay, baby. I’m here,” he tried to soothingly whisper while tracing his fingertips up and down your spine, “He can't hurt you anymore.” 

Comforting someone - especially someone so vulnerable - wasn’t Jungkook’s specialty, but he tried his hardest when he saw how clearly distraught you were.

“Tell me I didn’t just k-kill someone,” you sobbed, feeling your whole body beginning to involuntarily shake, “I-I didn’t want to hurt him, but h-he ..”

Jungkook pulled away just enough to cup your cheeks. His thumbs rubbed across the stained flesh, clearing away the tears that trailed their way down. Then he leaned forward, planting a delicate kiss onto your forehead.

“I know. Go wait in the car, okay? I’ll deal with it from here.”

You weakly nodded your head, not wanting to spend another minute in the house where you were nearly assaulted - and potentially murdered someone. 

“Everything is going to be okay, baby,” he whispered before leading you out the door, “I promise you’re not going to be the one who killed him.”

[crab-instruments]

Lost and Found Part 2

Master <Part 1 Part 3>

Pairing: Silco x Reader

Warnings: shenanigans (aka a continuation of the ficlet I wrote while half asleep), reader does not get sandwich (yet)

a/n: two people wanted a part 2, so now there will be a part 3. I hope this is... acceptable

“Well, I’m convinced.”

You looked up from the assortment of locks and puzzles scattered across the floor to the blue haired girl standing above you. Jinx, if you remembered correctly.

Silco had given you locks he had in his office to prove your skill, then requested others be brought to him. You explained to him that ‘It wasn’t just locks, really. Locks were just puzzles, so it could be applied to puzzles,’ and so he brought in puzzles of all sorts to test the theory. You solved everything he gave you, except one, but you pointed out it specifically was impossible to solve because it had been sabotaged. You then offered other solutions outside the realm of what might be considered the ‘rules’ of the puzzle to solve it, anyway.

Jinx walked in and Silco asked her to bring her hardest pieces, confusing contraptions that certainly presented a challenge (mainly because you worried they would blow up), but you solved them nevertheless. They had moving parts and liquids and wires but still, a puzzle was a puzzle.

At this point, it was in the afternoon. Silco’s office was a mess, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“This is really just… parlor tricks, Sir. Ma’am. Miss? A-Anyone can solve these, really. Nothing special on my part.” You did your best to keep eye contact with Jinx, but you were scared of saying the wrong thing that you couldn’t not stare at the floor.

Eyes looked at you incredulously, disbelief radiating off of them.

“And you can solve them while drunk?” This came from the golden armed lady, Sevika.

“Arguably better, while drunk. I think, at least. I don’t remember. I can somehow get passed security drunk but not sober. Haven’t cracked that puzzle out yet.” You chuckled lightly before clearing your throat, trying not to get too comfortable and overstep.

Another awkward silence fell between the four of you. All of this attention on you was starting to creep you out, tension building like a pressed spring.

“As fun as this has been, um... I have to—I have to go to work soon. I don’t think my boss will allow the ‘I was discussing locking mechanisms with Silco’ excuse, especially since I’ve used simi—I MEAN. I don’t really know the protocol here, I didn’t mean to break in—do I need to pay for the lock? I don’t think I broke it but—”

“What is your job?” Silco folded his hands together as he sat at his desk. If you were a gambling man, you would bet he was forming plans.

“I wa-wash dishes, so it would take me a while to pay you back. My boss treats me like an idiot and I’m indebted to him and he hates me so I don’t know if I could get an advan—”

“I don’t want your meager wages. I want you to work for me.”

“You want me… to work for you? You need a dishwasher, Sir? Mister Silco… Sir?” A collective groan filled the room. You looked around at their faces, wondering what you weren’t getting. “I don’t think my boss will give me a great recommendation for reasons already listed but I could—I’ll ask. But like I said, I’m more of an… indentured servant than an employee so I—”

“Come back here tomorrow morning. We will discuss the terms of your employment then.”

You stood up, a little too fast so you wobbled a bit, before giving an uncomfortable bow. You never bow but it felt like you should bow to Silco? You’re not sure of protocols. “Okay Silco. Sir. Mister Silco Sir—”

“Go.”

You did your best to leave quickly and quietly, however, the sounds of you kicking the metal pieces on the ground and almost tripping made for an extremely abrupt exit.

Those who requested Part 2: @jinxs-monkey-bomb @grapegirly

Tagging @imalovernotahater since you enjoy Silco

[zeeroweenies]

omfg but purposely pissing off bully megumi by letting someone else give you a hickey once you tired of being his toy but he won't let you go that easy, even if his girlfriend walks in... :)

your brain is sexy <3

cw: cheating, jealousy, manhandling, slapping, light degradation, megumi is a piece of shit

You had really gone and done it now. One of Megumi’s rules for you was always that you weren’t allowed to fool around with other guys, he didn’t even want to see you breathe in the same direction as another guy. But you broke that rule when you decided to hook up with someone else.

Megumi was used to you acting out, but you really pissed him off this time. This was apparent when he could be heard storming down the hallways of the school, his loud voice bouncing off the walls in search for you.

It was after school hours and the building was usually empty by this time, except for students who participated in extracurricular activities, excluding you who stayed holed up in the computer lab to catch up on homework.

“Where the fuck is she?” you recognized that voice anywhere, it belonged to Megumi, and you could almost hear the threat in his words.

“Over there,” the only other person in the room pointed to you who was sitting at a desk space and immediately your head ducked down, slumping in your seat as if to make yourself less noticeable.

It was to no avail though, Megumi was already making his way over to you. You could feel your very being trembling as he approached you, steps heavy as he snatched you out of your seat, not allowing you to pick up your bag or materials as he dragged you out of the lab.

“What are you doing? Someone will see—”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Megumi never talked to you in front of others, and you weren’t allowed to talk to him. It was just another one of his rules. He was always so mean to you in front of others; pulling your hair, breaking your glasses, tripping you and making all of your books scatter across the floor.

“Wait— Can you at least tell me where you’re taking me? Ow—!” his grip on your wrist tightened, pulling you harder as if you were a ragdoll. You could barely keep up with the pace he was setting, tumbling over your feet like a klutz until you reached his car.

You feel yourself being pressed up against his car, the metal cold on your back as Megumi traps you between it.

“So it’s true, huh? You fucked him?”

Shit. He found out. You got tired of Megumi treating you like a toy, so you hooked up with his friend. He said he wouldn’t tell anyone, but somehow it got back to Megumi and now he’s furious. Its not like it was a big deal. He has a girlfriend, why can’t you have fun too?

You just wanted to piss him off a little, you didn’t expect him to be this mad. You didn’t know what to say, in your mind you were panicking. Maybe you could lie your way out of this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. I see the mark on your neck” he yanks the collar of your turtleneck down, revealing the dark bruises that decorated your neck and collarbone. He caught you red handed. There wasn’t anything you could say to absolve yourself of this.

Megumi releases your collar, beginning to make his way around to the other side of the vehicle. “Get in the car.”

“No.”

His head flies back at your statement, shocked at the shift in your tone. “What did you just say to me?” he approaches you again, invading your space.

You gulp, a wave of confidence urging you. “I said no.” you snap back, instantly regretting it as Megumi grabs you up by the throat, shoving you against the car before opening the door.

“You think I’m fucking around with you? Get in the fucking car.” he lets go of your throat, forcing you into the passenger’s seat before loudly slamming the door.

He walks around to the other side, nostrils flaring as he settles into the driver’s seat, twisting the key in the ignition before pulling out of the school’s parking lot.

The entire ride is dead silent, no words being spoken except for you asking where Megumi is taking you, none of your questions receiving an answer.

You feel your hands trembling as the car comes to a halt, the gravel crunching underneath the vehicle and you see that you’ve stopped in front of a building.

You stare at Megumi with wide eyes as he shuts the car off and sits as if he’s a statue, staring at the road in front of him.

Fear is evident in your voice as your words come out shaky, “Megumi where are we?”

He pulls the key from the ignition, fingers curling around the latch to open the door as he slams it closed, making you wince.

Your heartbeat picks up, staring at your hands as he comes around to the other side, the door flying open. “Get out.”

“Megumi, my parents are gonna be worried where I am—”

“Get out, or I’m gonna drag you out.” his eyes are ahead of him, averting your eyes as he holds the door open.

Whimpering, you slowly swung your legs over the seat as you stood up, jumping as the door slammed shut behind you.

“Walk.” You learned it was best to do as he said, you’d be in big trouble if he didn’t. One time he caught you staring at some guy and spanked you for hours on end until your ass was bruised and numb.

You walked up the stairs of the porch to Megumi’s house, trembling with each step you took as he trailed behind you. He shoved his key into the top lock, twisting it to the right and then the bottom.

The door swung open, you barely made two steps inside before Megumi was throwing you over his shoulder, heavy steps trailing down the hallway to what seemed to be his bedroom. It was surprisingly clean, except for the pile of clothes that was scattered across the floor.

He throws you onto his bed, your body bouncing from the impact and your glasses nearly fall off your face.

“Do you you know how much trouble you’re in? Huh?” Megumi’s dark blue eyes are staring down at you and you can’t even return his glance, you just look down hoping to avoid his stare.

His hand comes down to grab your jaw, forcing your head upright to look at him. There’s pure anger in his eyes, and a hint of... lust?

“Do you?” he shakes your head in his grip, forcing you out of your thoughts.

“‘M sorry,” your voice comes out small, tears forming at the bottoms of your eyes. You just hoped this punishment wouldn’t be as bad as the other ones.

“Oh yeah? show me how sorry you are,” his hands move to his belt buckle, skilfully undoing the metal and strap as you drop to your knees, eager to earn his forgiveness.

You sit at your knees, doe eyed as he rubs his tip between your soft lips, letting you take his cock into your hands. Looking up at him through apologetic eyes, you plant little kisses along the head before you swirl your tongue around it.

Megumi stares down at you nonchalantly when you take his cock into your mouth, bobbing your head up and down pathetically. He scoffs, you can’t even take his whole cock into your mouth.

“You don’t seem like you’re sorry” he looks at the display beneath him, your eyes float up to his in panic as your mouth slips from his cock.

“I am sorry!” the words come out franfic, and your mouth gapes open from him yanking your hair down, your neck exposed.

He grits through his teeth, face close to yours. “Then suck my dick like you mean it.”

You whimper as you take his length into your mouth once again, using your tongue to slide against the underside of his cock, bobbing up and down as much as you can.

Your glasses begin to fog up, the thin layer obscuring your vision while you struggle to breathe. Each movement of your mouth sends his cock to the back of your throat, choking as you struggle to take it.

Megumi sighs, obviously annoyed of your ministrations as he forcefully tugs at both sides of your head, moving your head back up and down as your nose hits his pubic bone repeatedly.

“You’re still not fucking doing it right,” he fucks your mouth angrily while spit leaks from your mouth like a fountain as you gag, your vision completely blocked from the fog covering your lenses.

“Use that worthless mouth of yours, I bet you sucked his dick a hell of a lot better didn’t you?” you can’t even breathe at this point, with the way Megumi’s fucking your throat you don’t have a chance to catch your breath, and you tap his leg signaling you need air.

Megumi lets out a series of ragged breaths, feeling his release approaching “And with one of my teammates? You’re a fucking slut”

The degrading words that spew from his mouth shouldn’t turn you on but they do, your cunt clenches and your clit is throbbing through your underwear, soaked with arousal and dribbling down the sides of your thighs.

“Fuck, fuck— you’re my toy, mine” he gives your mouth a few more thrusts before he’s pulling out, pumping himself to completion as white strings of cum coat your face and tongue.

Megumi pulls you up by your throat, tossing you onto the bed with your legs splayed open, your clothed wet cunt on display for him as he removes his pants fully and shirt before he approaches you, ripping your panties off.

“Megumi, ‘m sorry” you sniffle, tears cascading down your face

“Aww, I know baby,” he says with faux sympathy in his voice as he removes your glasses, laying a sweet kiss on your lips as his cock rubs up and down your slit.

“But you should’ve thought about that before you opened your legs for someone else like a slut, you know what happens when my toy doesn’t know how to behave.” he sheathes himself inside you at once, causing you to throw your head back from the painful stretch.

His hips snap against you hard and fast, each stroke bumping against your cervix not giving you time to recover. The squelching sounds of your cunt fill the room, Megumi’s hand pressed down on your stomach while he rams into you with fervor.

A pleasured moan escapes your lips, earning a slap to the side of your face from Megumi, the action only makes you tighten around his cock.

“You’re not supposed to be enjoying your punishment. Why are you enjoying your punishment?” his hand lands against your cheek hard, only making you clench around him more, eliciting a groan from him.

You feel so fucking good around him, your pussy sucking him in, clenching like it doesn’t want to let him go. You’re the perfect toy, always so good for him and—

“Megumi what are you doing?” a different voice comes from the other side of the room, the figure appearing to be his girlfriend.

The look in her face is twisted in a variety of emotions: anger, hurt, jealousy. She looks like she wants to hurt someone.

Megumi scoffs, continuing to fuck you like his girlfriend didn’t just catch him in the act. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“I’ve been worried sick about you and I find out you’re fucking her of all people?”

“Why not? She feels so much better than you. Look at how good I make her feel, she’s moaning like a bitch in heat” your orgasm is forming in your core at his praise, beginning to soak the sheets underneath you.

“See how wet she is, how good she’s taking my dick?” his hand snakes up from your stomach to your neck, lightly squeezing the sides eliciting moans from you that sound throughout the entire room.

“You better get over here now, or I just might let her steal me away from you.”