#so I think he'd be a pretty good boss all things considered

[ihfmseatsoch]

He's sick, and he's taken, but honest 🚀🌠

Grant Curly x fem!intern!reader

Summary: Stuck in an unhappy marriage, Curly's new intern brings some much needed excitement into his stagnant life.

genre: smut

word count: 4.7k

warnings/content: cheating, (legal) age gap, a lot of pining, curly is #depressed, semi public sex

—

Marriage is a common life goal most people aim to achieve. Curly was one of them, believing it'd give his life purpose. He'd have someone special to come home to after a long haul, maybe even a couple children in the future. He'd have a family that'd mitigate his loneliness, and he'd feel more accomplished as a human being. Lord knows his career would ever give him that feeling.

That fantasy turned out to be nothing like he anticipated. Everyone always talks about married life like it's some cushy, idealistic dream, so it's only natural that he expected... more. Something fulfilling.

Maybe it's because he rushed into it. Slapped a ring on the first girl he thought could be "the one", because he didn't want to waste his twenties being alone and single, while his other friends were already hosting baby showers and inviting him to weddings. He didn't want to feel out of place, and honestly, he was a little too desperate for normalcy. Stability. Whatever settling down brings you.

No one tells you what you're supposed to do when "the one" isn't who you thought they were. When "the one" becomes bored of you in less than a year, and you're forced to spend the next decade attempting to relive your honeymoon phase, rekindle the initial spark you and your spouse once had.

In the end, it was all fruitless.

One sided arguments were frequent, Curly typically too worn down to shout back at his wife, who's nagging him about something he did, or didn't do. Most of the time, Curly finds himself dissociating throughout the bombardment of verbal assault, which causes her to accuse him of not caring about their relationship, due to his lack of a reaction.

And, perhaps there's some truth to her claim. He cares enough to stay, but... does he want to continue putting in the effort to make their failure of a marriage work? Was their partnership worth trying to salvage?

The answer was a resounding no. Not anymore. Curly came to realize that he stayed out of obligation, not out of genuine love.

At least when he was piloting the Tulpar for over a year, it was a reprieve from his home life. He never thought he'd consider his job to be equivalent to a vacation of sorts, but that's where he is in his pitiful existence.

It wasn't until Curly was informed that an intern would be assigned to work alongside him, that the painstaking boredom of his routine was replaced with a breath of fresh air. Initially, he fully expected the new responsibility of tutoring someone more inexperienced than him to be a hassle.

But as soon as he set his sights on you, a pretty young thing with the aura of an angel, the thought of spending every waking moment with you didn't seem so bad. Not bad at all. You captivated him completely, which caused a bit of guilt to stir deep inside his stomach. He shouldn't be thinking of another woman this way, especially not one that was just learning how to say their first word by the time he was in highschool.

But god, were you entrancing. The most beautiful girl he'd seen in a long time. Curly felt worse than terrible for finding you more physically appealing than his own wife back on Earth, but you were so much sweeter than her, listened to him so intently, hanging on his every word as he explained the how the controls in the cockpit functioned, your compliments on his knowledge and experience going straight to his ego—

Oh, he was doomed. Utterly fucked.

"I don't think I'll ever be as good of a Captain as you, Grant." You spoke humbly, referring to him by his first name, ever so polite and respectful. Even if the rest of the crew called him Curly, you insisted on formalities. He was your boss, after all. That's part of what he appreciated about you.

How mature you were for your age.

"Don't be so sure 'bout that," He shot you one of his signature smiles, charming, but not quite reaching his eyes. "You've got a lot of potential, more than most kids your age. And it's not about bein' as good as me, y'know. You've gotta pave your own path. Learn at your own pace."

You had that usual expression on your face whenever he gave you a bit of his wisdom, which was truthfully just him parroting back what his brain had absorbed from the Polle posters with bland motivational quotes scattered around the ship, simplistic and cliché. Your eyes were locked onto him, focused, and beautiful as ever. You took him so seriously, it was almost a little silly. Sure, he was an authority figure, but he wanted to be more of a friend to you, rather than your superior.

"Just 'cause I'm younger than you doesn't make me a kid." You tease him a bit, and he's glad you're finally comfortable enough with him to do so.

"Right, my mistake," he chuckled, "Forgot I'm dealin' with a grown woman here. Forgive me."

"Forgiven." You quip back with a short laugh of your own. Fuck, you were cute. Such a pretty little smile, lips soft and kissable, practically begging him to smash his own against them, to bite, taste, and lick, until they were swollen and red from the aftermath.

Blinking a couple times, he clears his throat. Not now, Curly, he chastises himself. Get a grip. This stupid crush was completely inappropriate. Unethical. So why couldn't he brush his lustful fantasies aside, if he was aware how wrong they were? Why was he treating his life partner as an afterthought, willingly allowing himself to be ensnared by you?

He thought pumping his aching cock in slow, deliberate strokes, late at night in the privacy of his quarters, thinking of that tempting mouth of yours full of him, taking every inch of his shaft down your throat, running your hot, wet tongue along the length from base to tip, would make all those feelings go away. He doesn't know how long it's been since him and his wife have been intimate, he just needed some relief. Right?

Even after he spilled a thick load of cum all over his muscular stomach, abs softened from months of inactivity, he still wanted you. In fact, it only made his desire for you worsen, blossoming by the second. You were an insatiable craving he couldn't ignore. Not until he got a taste.

Curly didn't want to creep on you, but how was he ever going to initiate anything? Were you even interested in him in that way? How could he even suggest anything so uncouth, so perverted, especially as your boss? He wasn't a man who took advantage of power dynamics. Confessing how he felt towards you could jeopardize his position if you took it the wrong way, or, at the very least, damage the relationship he's been steadily building with you.

Instead of being upfront, he maintained an air of casualness when asking about your personal life. It was all normal, at first, asking about your parents, your upbringing, social circle...

And, eventually, he felt as if it wouldn't feel awkward if he inquired about a possible romantic partner, since the question was on topic. "You got anyone waitin' on you back on Earth?" He broached the subject with feigned nonchalance, hoping you don't take the question as too invasive. He felt the need to backpedal, his confidence wavering. "You don't gotta tell me, if that's too personal. Just curious."

"No, nothing like that." You answer, looking down at the coffee in your mug, not particularly interested in drinking any more of it. The first, very disappointing sip was enough. "Huh." Curly made a mild sound of surprise at your response. He fully expected someone to have snatched you up before him.

The fact that you were available made him feel a sense of relief, but also... worse, in a way. There was nothing holding him back from shooting his shot with you, no one in the way. No one to stop him from possibly making a horrible decision. Besides his wife, but... in all honesty, he suspects she's not being all that faithful back on his home planet.

"What about you?" Your question catches him off guard for a moment. Had he really not mentioned that he was married? Not once? He has to think fast. He has the opportunity to lie, or be honest with you. On one hand, the less you know, the better. On the other, telling the truth would prevent anything from happening between you two.

Steeling himself, he quickly makes up his mind, deciding that he can't bring himself to be dishonest. You'd find out eventually. "I'm married." Curly admits plainly, unable to force any kind of joy into his tone. He doesn't even smile, or look proud, like most husbands would when speaking about their wives. When did he become such a shithead, he wonders.

"You don't seem too happy about it." You immediately notice how... depressed he looks at the very mention of his spouse. Catching yourself being a little too blunt, you follow up with, "Um– not that I'm implying anything! Sorry..."

He sighs, dejected, tiredly rubbing his face, as if he could wipe the evident dissatisfaction clean off. The crushing weight of pretending everything's fine and dandy is catching up to him. "Nah, don't apologize. You're not wrong." He confesses out loud for the first time, even to himself. "Goin' through a rough patch. Have been for a long time."

Curly can hardly look at the raw, genuine sympathy on your face. He doesn't want you to pity him. He doesn't want anyone to. That's why he's hidden his marital problems from everyone he knows. Besides Jimmy, that is, but he's not the best guy to vent to, and Curly's only told him bits and pieces, to which Jimmy responds with the oh so helpful advice to simply get a divorce, like it's that easy.

"Sorry to hear that." You place a tender hand on his broad shoulder in a comforting manner. "I know what it's like, being in a shitty relationship. You can always talk to me about it, if you need to."

He can't help but melt into the display of physical affection, no longer used to feeling a loving touch. It was refreshing to experience genuine compassion for once. With a forced, half-hearted smile, he speaks solemnly, "Nah, don't wanna bother ya' with my problems. I appreciate it though, really."

Curly doesn't mention anything else about his personal life for a while, too embarrassed by the smidgen of vulnerability he showed you. He's supposed to be the Captain. The strong one. The guy who has his shit together. He can't let anyone know he's the opposite of who he presents himself to be.

But having you around has made him feel emotions he hasn't experienced in god knows how long. Plus, you're good company. A good friend. You make him feel alive again.

You're exactly what he needs.

Maybe he idealized you a bit, but how could he not? You were perfect to him, delicately handcrafted by angels, everything about you so sugary sweet that his teeth hurt just thinking about you. It came to a point where he genuinely wanted you to stay in his life for good, because without you, he's sure the vitality you instilled in him would fade, and he'd immediately wilt like a neglected houseplant; visibly half-dead and parched in the corner of the room, but no one takes the time to tend to it, or even acknowledge it's suffering.

His yearning became palpable, affecting the very atmosphere whenever you two were left alone. Curly had asked you to demonstrate what you've learned so far, and as you listed off the proper names of each button, lever, dial, and switch, summarizing your basic aviation knowledge, he simply couldn't focus on your words. Didn't need to, actually. He already knew you were smart enough to fly the ship yourself, so he took the time to just... admire you.

You were the epitome of light, brightening his days, no matter how dreary.

What he would give to have you sat in his lap as he mentored you, his hands guiding your own as you learned how to take the controls, whispering instructions into your ear just to watch your cheeks flush with warm blood, and listen to the way your breathing hitches when he pulls your body closer–

"Grant?" Your voice brought him out of his own head. Must've spaced out again. He's gotta stop doing that... "You're looking at me weird. I don't sound dumb, do I?"

Curly realizes he's been staring at you with a dopey, lovesick expression for way too long, and he sheepishly rubs the back of his neck, feeling like an idiot for acting this way. "No, no. You're doin' great. Ain't you, just... haven't gotten a proper night's rest in a good while." That's a half-lie. Sure, he hasn't been sleeping well, but that's every night. Not much of a difference there. The only problem here is him and his lack of self restraint.

If only you knew how hard he's struggled to not shove his tongue down your throat.

"Something keeping you up?" You lean in closer, so willing to listen to his problems and carry his woes in your two shoulders. He can't tell you the truth. Can he? You're a good person, much better than he is. You wouldn't want to be with a married man.

Then again, he doesn't want to lie to you. It's been so difficult to hold back from declaring his feelings for you, it's eating away at his insides, tearing him apart little by little.

Guilt weighs heavily upon him like an anchor tied to his neck, pulling him to the bottom of the lake. "...Yeah," He swallows, "S'pose there is." He keeps his voice low, sounding immensely ashamed, like a child confessing to eating a dozen cookies before dinner.

"Talk to me." You urge, so oblivious to the cause of his inner turmoil. It's now or never. He either screws this up so irreparably bad, or you accept him and his shame.

Curly takes a deep breath, before forcing it all out in a quick, rushed jumble of words.

"I– fuck, don't think badly of me for this. I can't stop thinkin' about you. Can't get you outta my head, no matter how hard I try. I know it's wrong, god, do I know, but you're... you're just so..." He trails off, his own humiliation cutting his sentence short, and he mentally prepares for the worst rejection of his life.

An awkwardly long silence falls between you, as you take the time to process his confession. He looks like a broken man in front of you, unable to make eye contact, his hands clasped together, sweaty with fear.

"Grant..." You start, unsure how to go about this situation. "I'm glad you told me, and– and I like you too, I really do. But... your wife..." You bite your lip, bashful, never expecting yourself to develop feelings towards a married man of all people.

His heart sinks like a stone as you bring up the woman whom he had vowed eternal loyalty to. He exhales shakily, avoiding your eyes. "I know. Just... me and her... ain't been the same as it used to. Not for a long time."

"I'm sorry." Your heart swells with empathy, wondering why anyone would dare to mistreat a man like him. He's nothing but a sweetheart in your eyes. Flawed, yes, but so is everyone. "I... I don't think I'll make you happy, though. And... being the other woman, it'd feel... wrong. Even under these circumstances."

He nods, silently agreeing with you. It would be downright horrible of him to cheat on his wife, especially with a younger woman who he has a position of authority over. A position of trust and responsibility. A position in which he can easily take advantage of you if he really wanted to. Isn't that a sickening thought.

He's supposed to be better than this. Stronger than this. But he doesn't feel much like a good man right now. Feels like he's drowning.

You sigh at his silence, taking his clammy hands into your own. Your heart hammers against your chest wall. The forbidden aspect of the entire situation is adrenaline inducing. His sad puppy eyes make you feel awful for rejecting him, but if you two started anything, it'd end up a terrible mess.

Yet, you can't stop your body from inching even closer to him.

"I don't want you to be unhappy." You tell him, speaking quietly, as if to avoid eavesdroppers.

He knows he's supposed to pull away, to do the right thing for once. But when has he ever done the right thing when it comes to you? He dares to look into your eyes and his body tenses. You're so close, near enough to where he can see himself reflected in your dilated pupils.

This is wrong.

"You're too damn sweet for your own good," he murmurs, gaze flicking down to your lips, "Ain't makin' this easier for me."

It doesn't take long for the tension between the both of you to become unbearable, your hand finding his scruffy cheek to pull him towards you, practically smashing your lips to his. His beard tickles you as you kiss, but it doesn't deter you from allowing him to ravage your mouth.

A deep, almost guttural sound of desire rumbling out from his chest. The kiss is messy and desperate, bordering on hungry, starved of the affection you're giving him in this moment. He doesn't hesitate to hoist you up by your waist, sitting you down on the console, the sudden movement eliciting a surprised squeak from you, the sound muffled inside of his mouth.

Pulling away for air and a moment to compose yourself, your lips coated with a sheer layer of own another's saliva, you stare into each other's eyes as you breathe heavily, his large hands gripping your hips to keep you balanced and supported on the surface. "Grant..." You breathe his name, unable to come up with anything else to say in your dazed state of mind.

"You have no idea," he begins, huskily, "How fucking bad I want you." His firm tone makes your thighs press together, a jolt of arousal hitting you right in the gut. It's not the first time you've heard him speak in an authoritative voice, and it's not the first time it's made you fantasize about him using it... somewhere more private.

"The... The door isn't... locked." You point out, still apprehensive despite your growing need. Dipping his head into the slope of your neck, he mumbles against your skin, "Think you can be quiet, then?"

You don't think twice before you nod, even though you're truthfully unsure if you'll be able to hold back from crying out and alerting the others. Only one way to find out. He presses his groin to yours, the friction making your clit twitch as he makes direct contact with the clothed nerve. Curly's dick is already hard, straining through his uniform, and you can feel just how massive he is, even through the fabric.

"Tell me if you want me to stop," he rasps, zipping his uniform down hastily, "You want this, yeah?" It was sweet how he asked for your consent, as if you two weren't already in the foreplay stage. You nod to ease his worries, pulling your own coveralls down, revealing the pajama shirt underneath, embarrassingly old and tattered. But you didn't exactly imagine you'd be fucking your mentor today, so there was no reason you would've thought to change into something sexier. You didn't even bring anything sexy on board. It's this or nothing at all, not that he seems to mind the less than elegant garment.

A brief, shaky laugh escapes him at the sight of you, only adoring you even more. "Cute," he comments, "Hope you don't mind if I take it off, though." Hopking his fingers under the the hem, he diligently pulls the shirt over your head, exposing the plain bra underneath. Underwhelming, but witnessing your half naked body is still a heavenly sight.

You decide you should start touching him as well, just to make it fair. You slip one hand under his shirt, feeling up his torso, your fingers exploring every groove of his defined muscle, even the slight pudge of his stomach. Not to mention, his chest is huge. Bigger than yours. You're almost jealous.

Curly's a little self conscious about the excess fat around his belly, but the way you're touching him as if he's a perfectly chiseled statue, fingertips grazing his skin with an awestruck expression on your face, makes him feel a little less insecure.

His own fingers dip down, the large pad of his thumb lightly stroking your clit through your panties. You have to bite down on your lip to keep yourself from moaning. "Nnh– Grant–" You shudder, speaking as quietly as you possibly can with the way he's touching you, sending electric shocks of pleasure throughout your cunt.

"Call me Curly." He sounds like he's demanding you, rather than asking. "Don't gotta be so professional anymore. Not when you're gettin' this wet from just my fingers." There's a hint of pride laced in his voice at the end of his sentence. He's still got it.

"C– Curly..." You stammer, as if testing out the way his name rolls off your tongue. You reach up to grasp onto his shoulders as he pulls the fabric of your underwear aside. "Atta girl," he encourages, tracing the outline of your slick folds with a finger, "Always such a fast learner."

You intake a trembling breath of air, feeling him explore you, spread you open, tease your entrance, so tantalizingly close to sliding inside of you. "Need you, Curly..." You whimper, a little pathetically, "Need you so bad, please..."

He complies with your plea, reveling in how desperate you look for him. No one has desired him like this in years, his own wife has never looked at him the way you do, even before their issues. "Shh, I know, I know... don't worry. M' gonna make you feel real good, doll." He coos, slipping his index into your hole, your slick making the insertion smooth and easy. Even just one of his thick fingers make you feel full, not to mention it's long enough to immediately nudge against all the right places.

Your eyes roll back as he adds a second finger, stretching you open, the obscenely wet sound of him pumping in and out of your heat filling the cockpit. You let out a string of soft whines from your parted lips, fingernails digging into his shoulders.

"Oh my g– goddd– Curly, fuck–" You cry out, spreading your legs even wider for him so he can prod your insides at even more angles.

Your cries are like sweet hymns to his ears, the sight of you coming undone before him is glorious, and he wants nothing more than to worship you, all of you, for the rest of his life. "Yeah? This pretty cunt likes that, huh? I can tell, she keeps squeezin' down on me, suckin' me in..." Curly can hardly believe the filth coming from his own mouth. He's been so deprived of any sexual contact with a woman, that he feels slightly unhinged now that he finally has it. His dick aches, watching his digits disappear, sheathed inside you, before pulling back out again, coated in your arousal, over and over again.

"Think she can handle more than my fingers?" He asks, his body practically jittering with the need to fuck you stupid. The way he's talking about your pussy, like it's a separate being from you, is strangely hot. You nod, the very idea of having his cock inside you makes your walls involuntarily clamp around him. "Uh– Uh huh..." You nod, already dumb and drunk off the pleasure he's giving you.

Curly slips his fingers out, leaving you feeling momentarily empty. You watch him pull his cock from his boxers, throbbing and rigid, tip flushed red. His size is intimidating, and you can't fathom why his wife would reject this for anything. You're openly gawking at his dick, which fuels his ego nicely. "Not polite to stare." He teases, and your face grows warm from being caught. "Sorry..." You avery your eyes, sheepishly. "You're just... um..." You're unable to tell him how fucking huge he is, feeling too embarrassed, but his mind fills in the blanks.

"Don't worry," He soothes, "I'll be gentle, okay?" With a kiss to your temple, he lines himself up with your hole, aching more intensely than it ever has for anyone else, the extent of your arousal almost overwhelming.

"You ready?" He asks, looking at you for permission to proceed, scanning your face for any sign is discomfort. You nod timidly, admittedly nervous, but more than willing to take him. "Mhm," you shakily hum, "I'm ready..."

With your consent, he presses himself into you, swallowing your moans with a kiss as your hole stretches to accommodate his girth, your nails raking down his buff forearms. He groans lowly into your mouth as he sinks into you, nearly orgasming from your tightness alone. When he bottoms out, he pulls away from your mouth just enough to whisper against your lips, "M' gonna start movin', okay? Be good n' stay quiet for me. I know you can do it."

You nod obediently, and he begins to rock his hips, pulling out, pushing in, rhythmic and gentle, allowing your body to ease into the feeling. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, ensuring he stays as close to you as possible. "F– Feels so good, so good–" You babble, your voice raising to a higher pitch than usual.

He kisses your neck, your jaw, your collarbone, anything that's within his reach, murmuring praises against your skin, "I know, pretty girl. Takin' it so well, look at you... so good for me, always so fuckin' good..." You feel him all the way in your stomach, his fat tip almost punching your cervix as his thrusts accelerate, your thighs tensing around him at every harsh movement, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, making you fearful of the sound attracting the others towards the cockpit, but not scared enough to do anything about it.

You grow close humiliatingly fast, but you can't really blame yourself when the biggest cock you've ever had is slamming into you, rubbing against every sweet spot in your cunt. "Curly– M' gonna–" you can hardly choke the words out.

"Yeah? Gonna cum for me?" He pants, pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, "Go ahead n' cum, sweetheart. Rub that pretty lil' clit and make yourself cream all over my cock." His tone is so gentle in comparison it his vulgar sentence. You obey his instructions without hesitation, ardently using two fingers to rapidly stroke the hard, swollen bud, enhancing the euphoria washing over your body. Your body spasms as your orgasm hits you, more explosive and perfervid than you've ever felt before, your cunt pulsing around his cock, your sticky and lustrous arousal coating your thighs.

"That's it, there you go..." He grunts lowly, thrusts growing erratic, his movements losing their fluidity as he quickly approaches his own release. "So beautiful when you cum on my cock like that... mmph– fuck– m' almost there, hold on a little longer for me–"

Thankfully, he doesn't continue to fuck your overstimulated pussy for too much longer, completely overwhelming your senses. Curly pulls out and gives his dick a couple pumps, before spilling onto your stomach, some of his seed shooting onto the console, mixing with your own juices. This'll be disgusting to clean up.

You rest your head on his broad chest, catching your breath, both of you coming down from the intensity of your high as he strokes your hair soothingly. "Shhh, shhh.... you did so well... you feelin' alright? Anything hurt?" His aftercare is sickeningly sweet, and it's evident he genuinely cares about your answers to his questions, and how you're feeling.

In your mind, it's too soon to call the affection you have for him anything veritably close to true love. On the other hand, to him, he's head over heels for you, after knowing you for two months at most. Or, at least, that's what he believes.

A nagging thought is stuck in the back of his mind, one that he'd rather not contemplate for too long:

How the fuck is he going to look his wife in the eyes when he returns to Earth?

—

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

[kaitsawamura]

-> somebody come get her (she's dancing like a stripper)

-> SUMMARY

You have bills to pay. That's the only thing on your mind when you go in for your shift at the strip club. The only thing on your mind until you see Daichi.

Daichi doesn't expect to find you, the girl of his dreams, at the strip club. In fact, he's 99% certain he shouldn't be here. But now he can't stop thinking of all the things he'd let you do to him.

Will your mutual attraction pay off for the both of you?

-> STATS

Pairing: Daichi Sawamura x Stripper!Reader (get that bread!)

Rating: M for Mature, MDNI

Warnings: My take on a corruption kink except Daichi's the one getting corrupted

Tags: Corruption, strangers to lovers, smut I tell you, filthy filthy smut with my husband, strip club au, oral (m receiving), p in v, creampie, a bit of choking (like a tiny bit), hair pulling, nasty nasty f*cking with my husband, sex in public (sorta, it's in a public restroom), a little dominant confident Reader (if I missed anything y'all can let me know in the DM's)

Word Count: 6.3K

Author's Note: I knew the moment I saw Mint's post . : HERE : . that I had to write something about it. They obligingly gave me the go ahead to be inspired so off I went a-writing. Obviously, this might be considered mild corruption by some but to me? This was like I went into a blackout and woke up not knowing what year it was. So, here you go, enjoy some nasty filthy smut with my love!

-> LINKS

Main Masterlist

HQ Masterlist

Playlist

Moodboard

“Rent’s due on Monday,” your roommate reminds you, concern masked with sympathy clear on her face. She’s not trying to be mean or overbearing but damn it, the stress of the situation makes you want to snark back. But you don’t.

“Do you have your half?” She nods. You nod back decisively. “I’m working tonight. Fridays are good days to work. It’s my first one without shadowing anyone. I’ll have the rest of my half in tips, don’t worry.” Her face brightens as she pours herself a glass of orange juice, sunlight streaming in the kitchen window of the tiny two-bedroom apartment you share with her.

“Thank god. The landlord’s being an ass again. We’ve been late one time. I have half a mind to give him a list of all the things wrong in this shithole instead of the check.” You roll your eyes conspiratorially but in reality, you don’t know if you’ll make your half in tips or not. Maybe your boss will give you an advance. You’ll talk to him tonight. He was surprisingly reasonable so the odds were at least in your favor.

Either way, you’ll get the money. You just hope you’ll be able to put the nervous energy thrumming through your veins to good use.

Daichi Sawamura should not have come here tonight. The guys in the office had convinced him, said there was a new pretty girl who was exactly his type. But this place was not the sort he was used to coming to. It wasn’t that this establishment was a bad one or that he had any problem with it; people had to make money how they could. Empowerment and autonomy and all that. It was more that he felt a little inadequate if he was being completely honest with himself. He wouldn’t know what to do with someone from here. He was used to good girls, the ones who had a routine and didn’t like anything too kinky. Which was also fine. But there were things he wanted to try, had a suspicion he would like that he just couldn’t ask of anyone he’d been with. He scrubbed a hand over his face, realizing the conversation he was having completely in his head was stressing him out.

“Dai, bro, just relax. She’s pretty. You better tip her good but you don’t have to talk to anyone but me and the bartender if you don’t want to. Just enjoy the show.” Kuroo smirks at his friend; it has been a long week. It’s not like he doesn’t deserve to wind down. Part of him just wishes he was doing it in the comfort of his home, with his favorite ramen from around the corner and a good movie. But who knows, maybe he’s getting complacent.

So he sits in the seat Kuroo has pulled out for him, a front-row spot directly in the middle of the runway. Right in front of the center pole. The seats are comfortable and he’s got a whiskey neat in his hands. He can feel a little of the stress release from the muscles in his traps, can feel his jaw unclench just in the slightest as the first warm sip of whiskey flows down his throat.

This is fine, he reassures himself, pushing work from his brain. Kuroo takes a sip from his own drink, a fruity one that he insists is the most delicious ever but is just a little too sweet for Daichi. The place is in a lull right now, preparing for the next act. But soon there’s a growing murmur from the back. Someone whistles, and a few others catcall. Daichi bristles just a bit, but he can’t even see anything until you hit the steps and it’s then that Kuroo elbows him.

“That’s her,” he says, raising his voice so Daichi can hear over the now thrumming bass. He feels it in his toes, in his chest, in his head. But your steps, the bounce of your tits in a skimpy bright blue bikini top, he feels in his dick. It barely covers anything, just like the matching bottoms. Cute little bows keep them on your hips and your heels are a deep black. As you get closer, your walk slow and sensuous, he can see the peep toe and your fresh French manicure poking through. He tries to adjust his navy suit pants with little success. He’s in so much fucking trouble.

You strut up the steps, the blinking LED strips embedded into the floor blinking in rhythm with the bass and the rhythm of your hips. You put a little bit of extra attitude into the sway tonight, praying to any higher power that will listen that tonight will be a good one for tips, even though it’s your first show without any supporting performers. Part of you gets it; you’re new. The owner has to make sure you know how to use those doe eyes and amazing tits properly. The other part of you, the one that knows you’re hot and knows exactly what you’re doing, wanted to smirk a little when your boss had said you wouldn’t get a Friday on your own until you’d completed two weeks of bartending and shadowing.

Your hard work has paid off though, and when you take your place at the center of the runway, you know you have your audience hooked even before dancing. There’s one guy in particular, right below you. He got arguably the best seat in the house along with his friend. You’ve seen the friend before, all confidence, slicked-back black hair, and a steamy attractive smile. Your coworkers say he’s pretty regular and always tips well. Thank god. The one next to him though, you don’t know anything about him except for the fact that the five stages of something flow across his face as you make eye contact with him. The low lighting does nothing to hide the blush flushing from the open neck of his crisp white button up to his cheeks and over the bridge of his nose. He’s got a wad of cash already set casually on the bar top in front of him.

You smile, bright and unguarded, knowing. You’ll have the rest of Monday’s rent if he’s an indication of the rest of the customers that will be coming in tonight. He turns away, uncomfortable. Aw, how sweet. So unlike some of the slimy patrons you’re used to. Something you don’t like trips low in your belly. The biggest rule was no sex with any of the customers. It was in place for a reason and a majority of the time was a good one. You remind yourself of it as the song for your first dance starts playing over the speakers.

Buss it, buss it, buss it, buss it

Is you fuckin’? Two shots, fuck it

You take a deep breath, hands on the shiny silver pole, and wrap one leg around it. The metal is cold to the touch but something else has goosebumps crawling up your bare skin. When you spin, turning in the new guy’s direction, your suspicions are confirmed that the feeling is not the rest of the eyes on you but his. And his are suddenly, somehow, the only eyes you want to perform for. So you do.

Daichi can feel Kuroo snap to attention next to him; he can’t blame him. You’re stunning and you know it. You look like maybe you shouldn’t know how to do this so well, but none of that matters as all coherent thoughts leave Daichi’s head when you spin and drop, rolling your hips so your ass faces him. You turn and look at him as you rise slowly, a deliciously naughty smile still all over that pretty little mouth. He rushes to take a sip of his drink, drums his fingers on the bartop, runs them through his hair, anything to occupy his hands. Because he knows the only place they really should be is all over you. Oh, the things he would let you do to him. He’d do anything for you. He takes another gulp of whiskey, disappointed when he drains the heavy glass.

Oh, shit. Oh, shit. He knew you were making eye contact with him but when you get on all fours and crawl to him like some lethal jungle cat, the end of the song nearing, he knows he’s in for it. And he’s okay with that. Any doubts he had, about being here at least, have vanished completely. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into him but he leans forward to meet you where you are at the edge of the stage. The crowd is roaring around him, the cheers only growing louder at the chemistry shooting like electricity through the air between the two of you. They’re jealous cheers he thinks, although he’s sure as hell not looking away long enough to check anyone’s expressions to confirm.

“Got anything good for me, pretty boy?” Your voice is pitched low as you blink big eyes at him, a smirk playing on your lips. Because, goddammit, he is pretty. Prettier than any other patrons you’d ever catered to. You would not mind if he came to be one of your regulars, regardless of any funds that might be exchanged. You would not mind if he came regularly—in your cunt, on your ass, on your tongue… A girl could take her pick with a man like him. Thick dark hair, glittering brown eyes, full lips. A barrel chest and wide shoulders to boot. No sex with the customers, no sex with the customers, no sex with the customers…

You watch, heat pooling low in your belly, as he unbinds the cash you had noticed earlier. You can’t quite figure him out. Because he’s making eye contact with you as he spreads the folded bills, licks his thumb, and pulls out two crisp Benjamins but there is a nervous tremor in his large hands as he passes the bills to you. Your eyes widen, the act dropping momentarily before you catch yourself and push out your bottom lip in a pout.

“Hm, a girl should get a little more than that for such a good performance, don’t you think?” You are completely used to this, the schpeel. You’ve done it thousands of times at the last place you worked and hundreds more at this club. It’s part of the persona within these walls. Mystery man is apparently not used to acting this way. You can see the war within him as you take the bills and he leans back, trying to be casual but every line of him is taught like a rubber band about to break.

“You here all night?” Don’t give anyone your schedule. If they like you enough, they’ll figure it out on their own by being a regular paying customer. You nod, liking this new game. Toeing around something you would normally consider dangerous, if only for all the variables far out of your control. But that makes it all the more fun, especially when he clicks his tongue behind his teeth and replies “Good, then so am I. I have more where that came from. Do you?”

Kuroo is watching the interaction with a gaping mouth. Daichi doesn’t have a clue where this new side of him is coming from. Except. Except he does. And it feels damn good. Despite being sure it is glaringly obvious that he is leaping so far out of his comfort zone, you seem to be very receptive. He shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of staying all night. He could use some sleep. But he could also use that mouth around his cock. You probably have rules, rules that should be followed, for your safety. Daichi knows he’s safe, but you don’t. He most definitely should not ask for your number or give you his or ask what time you’re off. You shouldn’t answer him.

But you do, nodding earnestly when he asks if you’ll be here all night. He has no choice. There’s something about you that he can’t shake off. The extra cash is of no consequence to him, and maybe, just maybe… No, he won’t let that thought go further. He won’t imagine how you’d look on your knees, or bouncing on his cock. He won’t imagine you writhing beneath him or securing him to his headboard with those cuffs he’d bought but never gotten to use. He won’t imagine you breathily calling him pretty boy again even though, fuck, he wishes you would so, so bad.

“What’s your name,” you ask before you can stop yourself, before you rise to your feet. The rules here are good ones, meant to keep both the patrons and performers safe.  You’d worked at other establishments before that didn’t care so much about safety so much as they cared about money.  Your radar has never been off in the past and maybe that shouldn’t be enough for you but everything about Mystery Man makes you want to break every rule ever set before you.  There’s something about him that makes you want to risk it all.  You want to hear him whimper and you’d place bets that you could get him to do it in record time.  Even now, his breathing is shallow and he seems unable to answer you.  His friend leans over, elbowing him into action.

“His name’s Daichi.  And mine’s Kuroo.  Ya know, in case you wanted to know.”  His smile is genuine, not creepy at all.  You return the grin as you stand before turning back to Daichi.  He straightens a little, snapped back to reality by his friend.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you say to Kuroo.  He is attractive, just not who you have your eyes set on.  But it’s good information to pass along to your coworkers.  Judging by his tailored suit that fits just as good as Daichi’s, you’d wager his job pays like his friend’s.  The music swells again, the DJ cueing to your next song.  “Kuroo, make sure your friend doesn’t go anywhere.  Tonight’s for him.”  Kuroo scoffs in friendly disbelief at Daichi’s luck.

“I’m hauling you to the club more often,” he says to Daichi, who flashes a quick small smile.  Oh god, that smile could bring anyone you know to their knees.  It could certainly do it to you.  That smile alone could get you to do anything Daichi would ask.  You point at Kuroo as you take your place at the center pole again.

“I’m holding you to that, Kuroo.”  You brace your hands one over the other on the pole, and shake your ass for all it’s worth.

Body crazy, curvy, wavy, big titties, little waist.

Daichi’s going to have a stroke, he just knows it.  He can feel the veins in his forehead and neck bulging.  The blood has flowed elsewhere too.  His cock is so hard it feels painful.  There are several different ways he could get relief, most of which he should not be considering seeking in a public area.  But it’s unbearable and there’s no way he’s going to let himself come in front of all these other people.  He waits for the end of your current number and then he’s standing so fast his chair screeches out behind him; a couple of people look his way but for the most part, you’ve got everyone’s attention.  Kuroo glances sideways at his friend; he doesn’t say anything, just smirks as Daichi tosses another hundred on the bar top, telling Kuroo to give it to you before rushing to the bathroom.

He makes his way down the hall and notices there are several doors marked RESTROOM in bold capital letters.  Thank god there are single-person stalls.  He stumbles into one, shutting the door and locking it with shaking hands.  The music is still audible, even here; it seems to have dropped to a low steady hum.  Intermission.  Perfect.  Daichi turns to the sink and splashes cold water on his face, one last attempt to snap himself out of this fucking trance.  Because that’s what this has to be.  He’s getting all hot and bothered over someone who he doesn’t even know.  And god, he wants to think that you like him but he knows he’s tipping good and he’s not one of those creeps that can’t recognize it’s your fucking job.

The image in the mirror is one that almost shocks him; his eyes are glazed, and his hair’s a mess.  Just once, he just needs to come once and then he can stay here until the end of the night like he said he would.  He’ll tip you like a good customer would.  Then he’ll leave and he’ll never come back.  Because this?  This is Daichi out of control and he’s not sure that’s a good thing.  Maybe he should go back to making love to nice girls in his king-sized bed.  Yes, that’s what he’ll do.  He’ll leave here and he won’t come back and he’ll never think of you again.

Daichi unbuckles his belt, the metal of the buckle clanking as he yanks his zipper down.  He lets out a pained breath, his cock straining against his underwear.  He slips his hand into the elastic band, taking it into his hand and bringing it out into the air.  He backs up to the wall, the cool air offering little comfort for the engorged head, and closes his fist around himself.  A breath comes fast and heavy out of his mouth as he starts jacking himself off slowly, trying to make the moment last.

You watch as Daichi stands abruptly, so quickly and sharply that he almost topples his chair over.  You watch as he tosses another bill on the bar top, leaning in to say something to Kuroo.  You watch as he throws one last glance your way before beelining to the bathrooms.  Idiot.  Absolute idiot is what you are because you’re making your way off the runway, ignoring the audience as a low boo goes through the crowd.  Your boss catches your eye from the end of the bar and waves you over.

“What the hell is going on?”  It’s not said unkindly but more with an air of annoyance.  This is your first Friday night on your own and you might be blowing it.  But you don’t care.  You put on a fake wince and point at your head, trying to look as contrite and imploring as possible.

“I’m so sorry, I know it’s my first Friday and I’m so grateful.  But I’ve really gotta pee and I’ve got this horrible headache starting.  Can I take ten?  Just ten minutes, enough time for an ibuprofen to set in while I go to the bathroom, and then I’ll be back out.  Please.”  You put those big eyes back to use, blinking slow and tilting your head slightly like you’re trying to relieve the pain of your fake headache.  Your boss squints his eyes but doesn’t protest as he pulls a bottle of Advil from behind the bar.  He hands you a couple with a glass of water.

“Ten minutes.  Go to the bathroom.  Take a breather.  Then get your ass back out there.  I’ve seen the business you’re encouraging after two sets.  You’ll be back up there as one of my main performers if you keep up the good work.”  You smile as you throw the pills back with the water and hurry in the direction of the restroom, pulling on one of the extra robes from the bar.  Now to find Daichi.

A couple is making out in the hallway; you brush past them and knock quietly on the first door.  A voice answers quickly that the stall is occupied but it’s not Daichi’s voice.  You knock on two more doors before getting to the last one.  You suppose he could have gone into the multi-stall restroom but you’d seen the look on his face when he’d stood and you’d bet all the cash he’d given you so far that he wasn’t coming back here to take a piss.  You rap your knuckles on the last single-person stall.  You’re rewarded with his voice coming from the other side.

“There’s someone-ha-there’s someone in here!”  He can barely get the words out; you know what’s going on in that stall and you want to help.  You rub your thighs together, realizing you’re already getting wet.

“Daichi, it’s me.”  This is stupid.  Maybe he doesn’t even like you that much.  Maybe you’re just some stripper at a strip club.  There’s a heavy silence now, almost solid enough that you could cut it with a knife.  Another pause and you’re getting ready to leave, cursing your confidence for all that it’s getting you, but then you hear the click of the door unlocking.  He opens it but only just so.  Still, it’s an invitation and one you are eager to accept.  You open the door just wide enough to slip through to shield yourself from any potential wandering eyes in the hall.  The scene inside the stall nearly wrecks you.

Daichi has backed up against the wall, as far away from you as humanly possible.  It’s so obvious that he’s been jacking himself off. His hair is messy, his eyes wild like he was already on the brink. He’s desperately trying to cover his cock with his hands and even though they’re large, they can’t cover it completely. You meet his gaze, which he tries to avoid, his eyes fluttering left then right with shame, before finally settling on you. Something trips across your skin.

“Babe, let me help you with that,” you whisper as you direct your line of sight to his cock. It twitches as you move closer, slowly, as if you’re approaching a cornered animal. Daichi groans a little when you reach him, one hand steadying on his shoulder and the other reaching up to touch his face.

“This is—this is not what it looks like, I swear. I promise I’m not some creep, I just—” You put a single finger softly to his lips, making sure he’s got his eyes on you. They widen just a bit. In the brighter light of the bathroom, you can see how rich the color of his irises are, golden brown like sunlight streaming through an autumn wood, or espresso, or something corny like that. Fuck the rules.

“Daichi, can I kiss you?” The question is out of your mouth before you can stop yourself. His mouth drops open but his eyes rove from yours down to your lips, then your covered chest, and back up. Finally, he nods so you guide his face down to yours and kiss him. His lips are soft and warm and pliable. He makes a little sound in the back of his throat, so unlike the image he’d put out walking in this place with his fine, tailored suit and stack of cash. Your hand slips from his shoulder and moves down the ridge of his pectoral, then lower still to the hard planes of his stomach. You trail your fingers over the now wrinkled fabric, close to his undone belt and open pants. His cock jumps against your abdomen past his hands and he gasps. “Is this okay?” You ask the question, certain that Daichi just needs the chance to give in. He nods again so you smooth your hand lower until it wraps around his cock.

Daichi’s head thunks against the wall of the bathroom as another sharp breath explodes from his open mouth. “Oh, fuck,” he growls quietly. You move your hand experimentally, softly, swiping your thumb across the head, gathering the bit of precome at the tip and smearing it about. You can’t decide what you want to look at more: the red bleeding over Daichi’s skin from the neck up, his heaving chest, or how his cock looks in your hands. He’s so… responsive. Each turn of your wrist has him shuddering beneath you. More. You need more. You want to see him beg. And part of you also realizes that he needs this too. You drop to your knees and his eyes snap back open as he watches you. “What’re you doing?”

“Only what you want me to do, Daichi. Unless you don’t want me to?” You don’t even finish your sentence before he’s shaking his head. He wraps his hand around yours, enveloping it, and moves it once, twice, over himself. A thought occurs to you, one you’re denying even as you ask him “Daichi, have you ever come down anyone’s throat?” The answer is obvious but you still feel incredulous as he tells you no. The veins in his hands are bulging and he’s still, like the calm before the storm. You lean in, maintaining eye contact, as you blow a breath over his cock. “Do you want to?”

It’s like you flipped a switch. Daichi, slowly now so you have time to pull away if you want to, curls his fingers in your hair, stroking them along your scalp. “Yes, please.” He whispers it, certain this is a dream. This has to be a fucking dream. He’s had a blow job before but never has he ever asked to come in someone’s mouth. He’s a clean guy but he’s not clueless; he just assumed most people thought it was gross and never had a problem with the fact that no one wanted to do that. At least not anyone he had been with. But, oh, he’d thought about it, lots of times. Most of those times in one night.

His pupils are blown wide as you lick your lips and take just the tip, swirling your tongue over the head. His skin is smooth, molten hot. The way your eyes never leave his is something else entirely and when you hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat to take all of him, he thinks he might die. He’s trying to maintain some semblance of control but it is already dwindling to nothing. There’s a coil building in his abdomen. Not yet he thinks viciously. Not yet. You take a few more pulls before releasing him with a pop. Frantic, he feels frantic. Maybe you decided you didn’t want to do this and he’d have to be okay with that, he couldn’t blame you but god damn—

“Daichi, eyes on me.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he locks in on you again. “Let go, babe. Show me how you want it. Pull my hair. Set the pace. And when you’re gonna come, you come down my throat. Nowhere else, you got it? I’ve got five more minutes. Think we can get you there, pretty boy?” He nearly blacks out when you say those words he needed to hear again. Oh, yes, yes he’s sure you can. His eyes search yours once more before fisting his hand in your hair, tightening experimentally. You smile around his cock, deep-throating him once more, but waiting expectantly. He’s not going to come back from this. You’ve ruined anyone else for him. And he’s accepted his fate.

The moment he lets go, the moment he breaks down whatever wall is holding him in place, you can sense it. You place your hands on his thighs as he pulls you nearly all the way off before shoving you back down. Your eyes water just a bit but you feel the slick gather between your thighs. Yes, the girl inside of you that wants to see him to the end hisses. He sets the pace, a strong and quick one, but somehow still gentle. If you said you needed to stop now, you somehow know he’d do so immediately. He twists a little more, angling your head just how he wants it. You set your teeth down ever so lightly just to see….

Daichi whimpers and gasps, the sound nearly a sob on his lips. You swirl your tongue again and suck. “Ha—shit. Just. Just like that,” he grits out as he grips tighter. It hurts a little, your hair and your knees, but the pain swirls with the pleasure in a delicious slide of skin against skin. Your nails dig into his thighs again before he takes one of your hands and closes it around the base of his cock. You grip, working your wrist along with your mouth. He bucks against you, a jerky movement. “I’m close, fuckfuckfuck I’m close. I’m gonna come.” His voice lies somewhere between a bark and a whine. He can’t decide if he wants you closer, or farther, to stop or keep going. His brain is short-circuiting. He tries to pull back just a little bit, but you won’t let him in the best way possible.

You quirk your wrist and tilt your head in just a certain way… Daichi cries out, long and broken, as he curls in over you, his orgasm washing over him in waves so intense his vision goes black. His entire body shudders with his release, his form towering over you as he spurts ropes of come all the way down your throat. You milk him for all he’s worth. Not a single drop is getting away from you, no way in hell. Next time, you want him to come in your pussy. Next time? God, you want there to be a next time. He’s still leaning over you when his breathing slows and steadies; his hands are bracing themselves on your back rubbing soothing circles there with his thumbs. He helps you to your legs and steadies you for a moment.

The silence stretches on as you look at each other, both a little shocked at what just conspired. Daichi slowly puts himself back into his pants and you help him buckle his belt. You’re both on the verge of saying something either extremely brave or extremely stupid with each moment that passes. You’re about to make the first move again when he reaches up and takes your jaw in his hand, running a thumb along the corner of your mouth to gently push the last of his spend into your mouth. You lean into the touch and welcome his finger, sucking it clean just like his dick. He thinks he might be in love with you.

A breathless giggle comes out of you as you back away just a fraction, trying to give yourself space from the startling sensation fluttering in your stomach like butterflies. Your boss is gonna kick your ass if you don’t get back out on the floor. “I would invite you to my place to continue this after I’m off but it’s a little crowded and the walls are thin,” you say, hoping against hope that he wants more just as much as you do. There’s no room for doubt when he leans in and kisses you, deep and slow, tasting himself in your mouth.

“That’s no problem, princess. If you’re still feeling this when you’re off, I’ve got a penthouse all to myself.” Oh, there it is—the swagger you expected him to have. Your eyes glitter as you smooth out your hair, knowing it still looks good enough to perform. If anything, the smell of sex and the appearance of your swollen lips will get you better money, as long as your boss doesn’t catch on. You don’t think he will. “I’ll find you at the end of the night.” You nod, suddenly the bashful one.

Somehow, everything that just transpired did so all in your ten-minute break. In fact, you have one minute to spare as you strut back to the runway, giving your boss a wink and blowing a kiss to the stupefied audience.

“Harder, Daichi, harder.” You can barely get the words out as he thrusts inside of your aching cunt. Your face is pushed into the pillows on Daichi’s king-sized bed, your ass in the air. The sound of skin slapping on skin in the quiet of his room is pornographic but you can’t waste any thoughts on being even remotely embarrassed. Tears stream down your face as he continually hits that spot inside of you that you’ve only been able to hit with a dildo and even then it never came close to this. Daichi’s a machine, the way he keeps going. After you sucked him off and he came so quickly earlier in the night, he was determined to make this one last longer. One of his hands is gripping tightly into the plush of where your hip meets your ass cheek, the other is splayed over your back, even now caressing the skin, alighting it with goosebumps. “Oh, fuuuuuck,” you whine as that same hand snakes around to your neck to pull you up.

His fingers and palm ghost over the skin as he thrusts up into you and it’s all you can do to hold to his thighs for dear life, your nails digging in so hard you’ll know they’ll leave a mark. “Are you close, princess?” He whispers it labored into your ear, his breath hot, his mouth even hotter as he leans in to nip at your pulse point from behind. You nod frantically, almost unable to answer. “Can I come inside, baby? Will you let me? Will you let me be a good boy for you?” His hand moves from your throat to your clit, stroking one slow circle over the oversensitive nub. Thank god for birth control.

“Yes, Daichi, yes, come in my pussy. Oh, god, yes be a good boy for me.” You squeal as he thrusts hard, once, twice, swiping his fingers over your clit again in a more concentrated pattern and you feel your first orgasm of the night sweep over you as Daichi finds his own release with a mangled, animalistic groan.  You think he’s done, especially when he pulls out leaving you feeling way too empty.  But you’re wrong, so, so wrong.  He proceeds to flip you over and push back in, a ring of white forming around where he’s begun thrusting inside of you again.  

“I thought about this all fucking night.”  He surges up over you, grabbing your wrists and pulling them above you.  “I thought about that pretty little cunt around my cock.  I thought about how pretty you’d look laying in my bed.”  One thrust, slow and teasing.  You roll your hips up to meet him, even though your thighs are weak and shaking.  “I’ve never–I’ve never fucked anyone like this before, it’s,” he leans in to suck on your pulse again, runs his tongue over the salty skin there, “magical.”  You whimper beneath him when you feel the familiar coil tightening once more in your belly.  

“Do you think I can make you come again, Daichi?  Can you come for me one more time?”  He groans, sealing his lips over yours as he releases your hands so that can pull him closer into you.  You scrape your nails from the nape of his neck into his hair, and grip, breathless, as his rhythm becomes choppy again.  God, you don’t know how he’s still going.  The two of you are so frenzied, the blood in your veins hotter than a blue flame.  “Look at me when you come, baby, look at me,” you whisper, bringing your hands to his cheeks.  His eyes are glazed, his face strained but still beautiful.  “I’m going to touch myself now, okay?”  His mouth pops open again as he nods, before watching as you wrap one arm around his shoulder and bring your other hand to your clit.  You swipe around his cock, collecting some of the mess you’ve both made there.  You know how to pleasure yourself and with Daichi’s expert stroke, it doesn’t take long before it snaps over you, the walls of your pussy squeezing around him forcing spend from him one more time.  It’s not as explosive as the first time but still enough that you can feel the wet leaking out onto his sheets.  “So good for me, Daichi, look how good you are for me,” you chant as you wring the last of the pleasure from each other.

When it’s over, he stills, pulling out of you and collapsing onto the bed beside you.  There’s a sheen of sweat covering you both.  The cool early morning air coming in Daichi’s open window creates the perfect juxtaposition of sensations.  He reaches over to trace patterns into your palm.  “Can I hold you?”  The question is so sweet, it makes you huff out a laugh.  The man just blew your back out and he asks if he can hold you.  But you are more than willing to oblige him so you roll into his open arm and lay your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart.  You wait a moment before looking up at him, relishing the feeling of his fingers now tracing patterns into your arm and shoulder.

“Didn’t you mention something about handcuffs earlier?”  He looks down at you jerkily, a sheepish grin on his face.  You smile mischievously.  You’re going to ruin him.  He’s going to let you.  And he’s going to love it.

“Let me make you breakfast first, yeah?”  You nod and breathe in the smell of him, all sex and musk and expensive cologne.  Neither one of you knows where this is going to go but right now, it doesn’t matter.  You yawn and snuggle closer.

“Just so you know,” you intone sleepily, “I like French toast.”  He laughs softly, his own body relaxing into a lazy slumber.

“Hm, French toast?  I pinned you as a pancake kinda girl.  Good thing I also like French toast and always keep the supplies in to make it.”  His breathing is slow and shallow, matching the rhythm of yours.  The sun peeks over the cityscape around you as the two of you go under, cradled in each other’s arms.

This work and its digital elements (photo credit to photographer) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2024. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

[withahappyrefrain]

For the ship ask game!

48. …out of habit + a bob of your choice!

This prompt screams secret relationship, and what better Bob to do that with than Cobalt Eyes & Sweet Smiles Bob?

Bob knew he shouldn't be jealous. You weren't paying Jake any attention as he bragged about the latest air maneuver he mastered. Your eyes were focused on putting together a burger.

Soon enough, one of your fathers' old Top Gun classmates would whisk you away, no doubt to marvel at how much you had grown up, reminiscing on how you used to toddle around at this yearly cookout.

The worst part was Bob couldn't even be mad at Jake. Because he told Jake that all that happened after you two met was that he walked you to your car.

Which was partly true. Bob did walk you to your car. And then exchanged numbers after making out in said car. Which led to going on a date, which led to Bob secretly dating you.

Turns out, dating the daughter of your bosses is complicated.

Once the current mission was over, it would be easier to come forward. And decidedly less weird to think about.

Though Bob was still worried that once the secret was out in the open, he'd wake up the next day to find he's been deployed to Australia.

So all Bob could do was sip on his diet Coke as he tried not watch Jake fail at hitting on his girlfriend.

"I'm going to go...." Your eyes lingered on Bob. God, he looked so good in that blue shirt, it was unfair. But wouldn't that be too obvious?

"Somewhere that isn't here," you finished, walking away before Jake could even speak. The temptation to tell the blonde pilot you were dating Bob grew stronger everyday.

But Jake also had a big mouth and seemed like the kind of dick to mention something to one of your dads, if not both.

Technically, you weren't breaking their rule. They said no pilots and Bob wasn't a pilot. He was a WSO.

But it certainly made things awkward as Bob was working with Dad. And Pa was his boss.

Well, wanting to get away from Jake Seresin wouldn't raise anyone's suspicions.

Bob tried to hide his excitement when you stood next to him. He tried to act casual, but nothing could hide that smile of his.

Not that you mind. In fact, his sweet expression sent warmth throughout your body.

"Got tired of hearing how much better he is than everyone else?" Bob joked, causing you to nearly choke on your burger.

"The best don't brag, they let their work speak for themselves," you explained, a sly smile on your face. It was so hard not to make eye contact with him. Truly unfair how he had eyes bluer than the ocean, deeper than the sky-

"Is it too much if I asked you to accompany me to the Hot Dog station? Figured it would be nice to have someone who understands all the toppings." With that lopsided smile, how could you say no?

"It is an intimidating amount of choices," you chuckled as you led him over to the station.

"Alright, so I know it sounds weird, but the Olivier-Russian potato salad- that Pa makes is actually pretty good. The chili Slider makes is good, but unless you have a stomach of steel only take a little. Oh, and Hollywood says the candied jalapeños are mostly sweet but that's a lie. It's mostly spicy."

Bob couldn't help but be memorized as you rattled off facts about the various condiments. Whether it was about work, a personal belief, or yes, even hot dog toppings, you always spoke with such passion.

He loved it. He loved you, but that conversation is still a few steps away.

For now, Bob was happy to settle for counting down the days until he could hold your hand in a gathering like today's. Even if it terrified him.

Yes, technically, he wasn't a pilot. But considering who your dads were, a technicality didn't bring Bob much hope.

According to Bradley, the idea of you dating someone in the military, much less a naval pilot, had been vocally met with disdain.

But today Bob wouldn't focus on that. Instead, he focused on your bright smile and how cute you looked in that sundress.

"What's your go-to?" He asked, ready to take the valuable information to heart.

"Chili with some of the candied jalapenos and a dash of ketchup."

"No mustard?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You had to stifle a laugh, "No mustard."

"Alright, I trust ya." His words, laced with a slight twang sent warmth throughout your body.

Without saying a word, you took the ladle from the chili bowl, serving it onto his hot dog. You gave him a sweet smile as an explanation, one that Bob took happily.

"Thanks darlin'," He leaned in to peck your lips, neither of you thinking about it.

It wasn't until he broke away to grab the ketchup that you both froze, realization washing over you.

Fuck.

"I'm gonna, um, go." You said quickly, grabbing your plate.

"Uh yeah, good idea," Bob quickly put down the ketchup, turning around to walk away from you. His face was bright red as he practically ran back to Mickey and Natasha who were currently chatting up with some of Pete and Tom's old classmates.

You looked around, everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. No one standing in shock.

Alright, good. That was a good sign.

"Hey, did you see that?" You asked Bradley, who had been roped into grill duty.

"See what?" Your pseudo-brother shrugged, his eyes remaining on the grill, unaware that you were on the verge of having a panic attack.

"Bob and I kissed. It was an accident, like neither of us thought about it! It just felt natural and we forgot where we were!" You hissed.

Bradley was the only one who knew. The first time Bob spent the night at your place, the universe decided that Bradley should be the one to pick you up for family brunch. In hindsight, better he than one of your dads. Thankfully, you had enough dirt on Bradley to buy his silence.

"Oh," Bradley shrugged, as if it was nothing. Truthfully, he didn't know why you two insisted on keeping it a secret. It wasn't like you were dating Hangman (thank fucking God for that).

"I didn't notice anything," He said, which accurately reassured you.

"Although...." His words made the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Although?" You gritted through your teeth.

"I mean, that would explain why Slider was running into the house. I thought he just had to piss."

God. Dammit.

"You good Bob?" Mickey asked upon seeing his fellow WSO, beet-faced and nervous.

"Huh? Oh! Me? Yeah, I'm great. Swell actually!" Bob said, unconvincingly.

Natasha knew Bob was dating you. It was obvious when you showed up to one of the beach football games. How anyone else failed to notice was beyond Nat.

But she knew not to say anything. Instead, she gave Bob a raised eyebrow. Whatever it was (concerning you), she knew it was better to ask in private.

"Lieutenant Floyd? May I speak with you in private?"

Bob's blood ran cold as he turned to face Captain Mitchell, who had his arms crossed.

"Um, I..." He could pretend to pass out. There was no current or former medic here. So he would just need to play dead as if his life depended on it, because it did. Claim it was from the heat. Yeah. Blame the sun, he was pale enough to do so.

But his knees were locked. Bob couldn't run, couldn't pretend to pass out. Fuck, it was too early to fake food poisoning.

So instead, all he could muster up was a weak nod as his legs carried him inside the Mitchell-Kazansky house.

He was fucked. Utterly fucked. He should just leave now so he can go pack up for Australia. Would he even get that far? He had been sneaking around with their daughter, death was probably the only option.

Even if your dads didn't kill him, your honorary uncles will. Fuck, was his will updated? Would you even get anything? Well, Bob did tell Bradley to give you the ring in his drawer should anything happen to him. It was his grandma's, given to him so he had a ring to propose and-

Why was the Admiral whose callsign was literally "Iceman" hugging him?

"Thank God it's you. We thought she was seeing Seresin."

Oh.

That explains a lot.

"Um, no offense sir, but you raised your daughter to have better standards than Seresin," Bob barely got out, now receiving a hug from the much shorter Captain.

"We knew she was seeing someone. We're all glad it's you."

When you ran into your childhood home, you were expecting many things. Mainly Bob's head on the floor.

Receiving hugs from your dads was not on the list, but man was it a welcoming sight.

Bradley shrugged, "I don't know why you were so worried about them knowing."

You rolled your eyes, "The same reason why you haven't told them you have a fiancé."

Wait shit, that was not supposed to be said out loud.

"You have a what?"

[restinslices]

If it's alright with you, can you write the lin kuei trio with a s/o, who is a detective tracking down a serial killer who is going to target s/o and the lin kuei trio's reaction to it.

I can confidently say I have never gotten a request like this

Handle it or he's handling it 

It's as simple as that 

Did Bi-Han let his own father die? Yes. But for whatever reason he didn't fuck with him 

I'm assuming he fucks with you though, so the thought of someone hunting you down is not something he's very fond of 

I don't think he'd have any strong feelings about you being a detective. Not everyone can be out and about fighting people from other realms. Some people gotta do some protective work for the smaller people 

So you being a detective is whatever to him

When you say you're hunting down a serial killer, I don't think he'd have any strong emotions either. He just assumes you'll catch them soon. His faith is pretty high 

When it's revealed the serial killer is hunting you, that obviously becomes a big problem 

A problem he has to solve 

If you're like “No Bi-Han! I got it! Let me find them and end this!” he'll consider giving you a set amount of time before he handles it 

Doesn't know how he's gonna track this unknown person down but his faith in himself is stupidly high 

If you find them and lock whoever up then great for you 

If the agreed time passes and they're still on the loose, he becomes Batman. Get out the way. He got it 

No point in protesting either. Just sit at home and let him figure it out 

He becomes the annoying boss in police movies. Y'all know what I mean 

Definitely finds the person eventually and finishes the job for you 

Hooray?

Honestly I think all the brothers are a “handle it or I'll handle it” case 

Thoughts on you being a detective are positive. I think he can see how difficult that certain job would be 

He's fighting with his fists. You're using your brain. You're both helping people. 

He admires it lowkey 

You're hunting down a serial killer now? Ok. Be safe-

What do you mean you're a target now?

He kinda saw it coming but it's still unfortunate 

He'd understand still wanting to lead this case and he applauds standing your ground, but he's also worried because ya know, you could be killed 

He'd try to assist but at some point he would really want you to let someone else handle it 

By someone else, he means him 

He's a trained assassin. He can probably hunt this guy faster than you can 

Has more patience than Bi-Han but if a lot of time passes and they're not handled, then he'll step in 

He probably would've warned you beforehand that this was something that would happen but as we can see, you either didn't listen or still slipped up 

It's not that he thinks you can't handle it… kinda. 

You're just not moving quick enough 

I think he’d be nice enough to remind you he has faith in you but would vocalize his concerns when it comes to you still working on this case 

Whether or not you decide to drop it is up to you, but he’s definitely not 

Thoughts on you being a detective I think are also positive

He thinks you're doing a good thing

The Lin Kuei can't help everyone. They do more bigger things 

So you helping civilians is great to him. It's a good cause 

I think he'd also enjoy hearing about your cases and chiming in whenever 

Hunting down a serial killer? Well, he guesses someone has to do it 

He'd be confident enough in your abilities to catch this person 

But then you're the next target

I think honestly all the brothers would have a similar reaction. So much so, I don't think there'd be much of a change. I probably could've written this in one paragraph 

He could possibility be the most cooperative when it comes to letting you handle it

Gives you the most time to figure it out and tries to help out as a partner 

Doesn’t wanna step on your toes but if you’re taking too long, he’s gonna do his own investigating 

Probably asks Kuai Liang for assistance 

I’m not saying any of them would find this person in days time, but they certainly believe they will 

Worried about your safety as you could imagine, so he wants you to sit this one out 

He’s probably conflicted, like what I said with Kuai Liang. One part is like “yeah, you gotta find this person!” And the other is like “you need to sit down so you’ll be safe”

Probably prefers for you to do all your investigating at home. Any leads you have you’ll either follow together, he’ll follow it, or someone else will 

I think all the brothers will want to help as much as they could and would wanna handle this serial killer. And by handle, I don’t mean letting them go to prison. You can get out of that if you play your cards right 

The only real difference is how much they let you help after they find out you’re a target 

Bi-Han is like “I gave you time. You’re done. I got it”. Kuai Liang is “I knew this would happen and I know you wanna stand your ground, but maybe take a step down” and Tomas is “I get it so let me help”

This is kinda boo boo. Also I hate their little moodboards I made. It’s sickening

[feroluce]

Belobog was my fave main quest but a lot of it is so. Contradictory. It's like they had multiple groups doing different shit and none of them checked in with each other for consistency. And you see this so much in Gepard's profile.

So in the main quest, they made him unfailingly, unquestionably loyal to Cocolia. Gepard's character arc is him learning to question authority etc etc. And this isn't even a bad thing; that's a story worth telling! It makes good conflict between him and Serval! And I love that we got Gepard as a boss battle and I get to see him all the time in SU!

But then you look at his character stories and it's like. The complete opposite.

According to his profile, Gepard has already HAD this awakening, long before the Astral Express, and he'd already decided Cocolia sucks. Even outside of his stories, there's a pretty damning readable between him and Pela.

He even disobeyed direct orders right in front of her- he has been disobeying orders for a while now!

So I've decided I'm marrying the two different sides of this into a 1.5k fic-ish thingy, because I think there's some fun potential there with Gepard not trusting Cocolia, but still having to pretend to be a good obedient little soldier.

Anyway. I love to think of it as like. Gepard knows Cocolia has sunk into her apathy. He can see it in her eyes every time he looks at her. She doesn't care. Not about him, not about Pela, not about all his soldiers on the frontlines giving their lives to protect the citizens. And that's... It makes him bristle a bit, but ok. Gepard can deal with this. Even if Cocolia no longer cares, as long as she does her job then it's fine. Having compassion behind an action doesn't matter as much as the action itself. If Cocolia's heart is no longer swayed, then he'll just have to care twice as hard to pick up the slack. He considers it part of his duty as a captain of the guard anyway. It's fine. Gepard can deal with it.

And then, Cocolia starts coming down to the restricted zone. Issuing direct orders.

And Gepard realizes he is in way over his head.

Because Cocolia orders him to stay back and issue commands from the ramparts, away from all his comrades, away from where he can protect them.

Gepard had thought nothing could be as bad as watching a fellow guard die right next to him. But the first time he watches someone struck by a killing blow, so far away, it hurts. Every defensive scar across his arms itches, his fingers curl in want of a weapon, the cold cannot numb his hands enough as they desperately ache for his shield. It hurts.

Gepard tries to find any reason to stay. Because surely... He knows Cocolia has lost her love for her people, but surely... She wouldn't...

One day, Cocolia orders for their gunners to advance 20 yards. There are no survivors. She almost looks like she smiles.

Gepard doesn't sleep that night.

Pela brings him the report at the end of the first month; and then the month after that, and the month after that. A significant uptick in losses, and all of it started on that first day Cocolia started overriding his authority and issuing her own orders. The ends of Gepard's pens have all been nearly chewed off. Pela outright calls Cocolia an idiot, and Gepard corrects her. Cocolia isn't an idiot. Gepard had known her through Serval, knew her through all her college years and then some, and he knows how intelligent she is. It's not that she's stupid, and it's not that she's inexperienced, it's nothing of the sort.

Cocolia knows exactly what she's doing.

She must, there's no way she could make such a horrible mess of things so badly by accident. And Pela, quick as a whip, sharp as a tack, always too smart for her own good, catches onto the meaning behind Gepard's correction without any further prompting. The tent goes deathly quiet, nothing but the wind howling outside.

"...She's trying to kill us," Pela whispers, her voice swiftly suffocated by the silence.

Gepard swallows. He can't bring himself to correct her this time. There is nothing he could say that he would actually mean.

His gaze drops, back down to his desk and the reports on it. The names aren't listed, just the numbers, but Gepard knows them, knew them, and there must be something wrong, something he's missing, because why, why would she-? What could this possibly accomplish-?

“Gepard! Focus!” Something snaps right under his nose, and Gepard startles, eyes instantly honing in on Pela's irritated face as she leans over his desk. She holds his gaze for a moment before she huffs and begins to pace, wedges a knuckle between her teeth and bites like Gepard hasn't seen her do since cadet school.

Pela angrily strides from one end of his tent to the other, words hissed between her grit teeth. “What are we going to do?” In the dim lighting, Gepard can just barely see the damp spot of blood weeping under her gloves. “We need a plan.”

“A plan?”

“Wh- Yes, a plan! Unless you want more people to die!” Pela rounds on him then, all the wrath of a blizzard, winds roaring and snow sharp enough to cut.

“We don't even know-”

“What does it matter?! She killed-!!” Pela cuts off with a garbled noise when Gepard leaps up from his desk, hastily shoves his hand over her mouth. The prosthetic, not the flesh one, because he knows better than to assume Pela won't seize the opportunity to leave teeth marks in his skin.

“You're right. I'm sorry, I'm sorry; you're right. But you need to keep quiet.” Pela quirks an eyebrow at him and Gepard can read the question in her face. “Because we both saw what she did to Serval,” he hisses.

It's amazing the snow plains haven't thawed out yet, the amount of heat Pela can put behind a glare. The mere mention of Serval, and the smoking ruins Cocolia had made of her life and career, have her bristling up like a riled cat. The sudden hot breath she takes fans fog across his metal skin, and Gepard wisely keeps it in place until Pela finally sighs and reaches up, taps her fingertips against the back of his hand.

The second she's free, Pela bats him away and then her knuckle is right back between her teeth again, Gepard leaning back against his desk with his arms crossed to watch her resume her pacing. “If we spread the word, she'll have us discharged and make sure we can't even touch the frontlines,” Pela's voice seethes like an open sore. Gepard nods but keeps his silence. He knows better than to get in her way.

“And if you and I are both out of the picture, Belobog is fucked.” A little harsher than how he would have put it, but there's no denying that they're both important to the city's survival. Pela has the restricted zone running as efficiently as ever, and Gepard had become the youngest captain on record for a reason. “We need to keep this tight under wraps, at least for now… It can't leak to anyone higher up the chain.” Another nod. “Serval might know other discontents…” Another n-

Gepard's head snaps up. “No.”

“No what?”

“No. We're not involving Serval in this.”

Somehow, even the same tone that leaves entire squadrons shaking in their boots has never worked on her. “You're not deciding that for her, Gepard.”

Pela hadn't seen the worst of it, though, back when his sister had just been banned from the Architects. Serval's pride hadn't allowed it. Pela wasn't the one to find her passed out bottle still in hand, hadn't been the one to wash the sick out of her hair or carry her to bed. 

Serval still has trouble thinking clearly when it comes to Cocolia, still can't quite bring herself to be objective. And Gepard maybe doesn't want her to be purely objective- but he would worry a lot less if she thought twice before she acted more often.

“At least let me be the one to bring it up to her.”

“Whatever, fine,” Pela gestures affirmatively at him as she paces past, and Gepard sighs. Good, at least that's one thing he can help.

From there, it's a lot of hemming and hawing and frustration. Cocolia has them under her boot, and Gepard and Pela both know it. Even with the way she's been cracking down on freedoms lately, Cocolia is still, overall, liked by the people. It's unlikely anyone would believe them. They don't even have solid proof, because most people don't know Cocolia as well as they do and won't see the clues in the same light. 

The Fragmentum has been ramping up in recent years, too. Everyone is struggling just to survive as is, they can't afford a fight on two fronts. Gepard is a damn good captain, one of the best for that matter. But they're at a massive disadvantage, his experience is narrowed to fighting a defensive battle against monsters, that's all he's ever done. That's all anyone there has ever done. He has no way of finding first-hand knowledge for taking the offensive against a human opponent, and if he goes at this blind, there's no way he'll get everyone out unscathed. He's going to lose people. He's going to lose a lot of people.

He'd never thought before that Cocolia would have it in her to have someone killed. And with this new knowledge, he has no guarantee she won't go after Serval or Lynx if she decides to retaliate.

Gepard has to remind himself to breathe when he realizes this.

Pela writes down every name the two of them can come up with. Lists and lists of names and groups and anyone they can think of who might be an ally in all of this. They memorize every bit of it, make their plans of who to talk to and when. Gepard watches the sparks reflect off Pela's glasses as they burn the evidence together.

Pela finally leaves, far too late to make it home, but says she wants to stay in the restricted zone anyway to investigate. Gepard watches her make her way in the direction of Dunn's tent, watches her back until she's out of his sight and squashes down the urge to follow and keep an eye on her. His tent feels empty.

In the morning, Gepard is up before the wake up bells. He drags himself out of bed, leads his soldiers through their morning training. The same people gravitate to each other everyday. Friend groups and training partners. There's an ongoing rivalry between a few squadrons that everyone bets on. Some of them have lockets around their necks, keepsakes, mementos. Some of them wear wedding rings.

Gepard is suddenly, painfully aware of something acidic clawing at the inside of his throat, of a heavy weight low in his chest that blooms, takes up room until it threatens to spread his ribs. His mouth tastes of bile and blood.

He rearranges the schedules. Puts himself down for every open patrol into the Fragmentum, makes sure he'll be on the frontlines every single time Cocolia visits.

He only hopes that it's enough.

[avionvadion]

Ortho: "Those pieces of wood are not just sitting on their skin; they're rooted deep into their heads. If we tried to force them off, it would not end well! Furthermore... Eleanora Quince's health is deteriorating rapidly. The wood seems to be interfering with another magic already engraved deep in her body. She... may not survive the night if we can't discover the cause of these roots and how to remove them."

Listen, ya'll. I have October mapped out.

Halloween preparations start on September 30th (Divus says they have a "month" to prepare.) The Magift Tournament is in mid-October, so I'm going to have it take place on the 17th. Playful Land will be taking place a couple days after the tournament but a couple days before Halloween Week. (18-24th, as Ortho gives us a decent timeline at the very beginning of the event to work with, so it'll be one of those days) Halloween Week is the last week of October. (25th-31st, exactly seven days.) 

Considering everyone will be turning into living puppets, I'm treating that magic as a curse. Furthermore, Eleanora can not have another curse overlapping the one she already has. Thus, she gonna start dying.

There's already gonna be lasting drama from Book Two featuring Ace, but oooooooh boy this is gonna get DARK.

Especially since Eleanora would absolutely be considered a "defective" puppet. Once she starts visibly deteriorating and losing life, Fellow will most likely tell his "boss" that one of the puppets seem to be dying from the spell. If he does that, then the boss will probably tell Fellow to "toss the defective one overboard" and into the sea.

They can't restore her to normal and let her tell everyone what happened, but they can't sell her as a living puppet either. Easiest way to get rid of her is to toss her overboard while she's still being transformed.

Fellow probably won't dump her into the water right away, though.

Human trafficking is one thing, but murder is another. (Really? That's where the line is drawn?) So he'd probably be keeping an eye on her condition to see if she actually dies or not, checking her pulse every now and then, etc. Contemplating his life choices and why he's still working for such a rich asshole who treats him like utter shit.

As time passes, Fellow probably comments that Eleanora will end up becoming a "pretty corpse" after all, unlike her friends who will be living puppets, and Lilia will be pissed at that but can't really do much since he's also paralyzed from the wooden curse.

ALSO, since Fellow IS a card-

I'm trying to rationalize why and when he might end up joining NRC.

The only reasons I can think of after watching his SSR story and reading his voice lines, is that he realized he needs to actually learn the stuff he wants to be able to teach for when he eventually gets the funds he needs to build a school for the poor and the people with little to no magic. Because, even in his SSR story, he laments that he can't teach Gidel a whole lot of stuff since he himself never went to school.

(Him teaching Gidel how to read was the cutest damn thing oh my goodness)

But how did he get into NRC, when he doesn't have the magic for it or the cash? How was he able to establish himself as a student with Gidel as his "other half" similar to Idia+Ortho and Yuu+Grim, so he can build up his knowledge and make a proper game plan?

My idea is, he managed to catch Kalim in town and sweet-talked him into speaking to his parents, mentioning the offer Kalim spoke of before back in Playful Land, and at his behest Kalim's parents bribed the school into letting Fellow and Gidel attend, sponsoring the boys as Kalim spoke very highly of them. (Similar to when Kalim was supposed to be in RSA, but was transferred to NRC so he wouldn't be separated from Jamil.)

That said, I do think it would also take a couple months for Fellow to come to terms with his situation and make the decision to attend NRC after all.

As such... I leave you with this to consider:

Fellow showing up after winter break is over, at the start of January, just before GloMasq and Book Five. Thus being left with all of the boys who were nearly turned into puppets who still have grudges, and those who have grown fond of El after she saved them realizing this was the man who almost KILLED her, while Eleanora and Grim are off at Noble Bell College.

He will be in for a talking to, and poor El is gonna have to fight for her life trying to calm Malleus' rampage when they get back so Gidel doesn't lose his older brother. XD

[buryhny]

One Night Stand ; 29

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to overs | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

→ Jungkook x y/n

→ contains smut, fluff and angst

→ Chapter twenty nine ; wc | 5.5 k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Jungkook deeply exhales when he sees you flinch at his loud tone, he didn't mean to yell at you. he practiced breathing to calm him down before he knocked on your door so he wouldn't let any of his anger get on you. he was concerned for you, you're not supposed to lift any heavy weight but you didn't pay heed to his words.

he sighs, his fingers rub the wrinkles off his forehead so he wouldn't look any scarier than he already sounded. he could see your view from the corner of his eyes, how you frowned at him with a growing pout on your lips. you pushed the suitcase away slowly then proceeded to speak lowly, "You did not have to yell at me.."

your voice trailed when you murmured under your breath, Jungkook felt guilty, he'd never yelled at you in a long time and not lately, considering how close you two have gotten. "I know..." he reaches you and looks at your face, while your eyes look down at the ground. "I know, I know, I know. I- I didn't mean to raise my voice at you, it was an accident."

he tries to look for any signs in your expressions if things have gotten worse or he messed up but then your eyes flicker to his and then your fingers, which play with his. "well then apologize to us." he frowns and tilts his head at the word 'us' and looks around the room. "is... there someone else here?" his eyes desperately look for a person, who he wasn't aware of. 'who could be here with you?' "of course. it's not just the two of us here."

you watch how he looks super confused, his curious eyes search in yours only for you to point at your bump. "apologies to us." you mutter and he breaks into a small smile before his bunny teeth flash out. 'oh, he looks adorable!' you think.

"right... I'm sorry you two. I didn't mean to raise my voice or use those words. it was a mistake." he tightened his lips together, bringing out his little dimples that you're completely in love with. "we forgive you although the apology was too basic and could be upgraded with a Nutella souffle that I saw on TikTok, I still accept it."

your hands reach his neck, as they wrap around him while he reaches your waist. "since when do you talk on behalf of two?" "Since...now?" your fingers push the hair that's on his forehead away, they're pretty long and you love it. there's a lot in him that you love and you're waiting for a good day to let him know about it, in detail with not just your words but your actions too.

"yeah?" his fingers draw circles on your waist, he likes this outfit. The pretty little pink dress that stops above your knees. "you look cute today."

he takes this as an opportunity to compliment you, you're close to him, both of you watching each other's eyes, it's too good to be true. "today? don't I look cute every day?" there, he thinks. you're confident and have always been, it's a part of your personality that makes you who you are and it's the best about you too.

you rarely feel insecure and even if you do, you always make sure to not show it. you find ways to cope with it and then overcome it. being pregnant makes you question yourself sometimes, with all the changes in your body but you're looking gorgeous, you carry that bump like a queen. being confident is a lifestyle and you've adapted it years ago.

"you don't." he says, that lets you raise an eyebrow, almost like a threat. like, 'Say that again.' he giggles. he admires your arrogance when it comes to your looks. he'd been with many girls and he knew that if he said these exact words to them, they would pout and show how sad they were, be a pick-me and question him with that annoying child voice. but the girl boss in you, you don't show a little bit of that to him.

"you're hot, darling." you smirk and nod like you knew it before. "I'd like to stay that way." "Nah, I prefer you-" he bops your nose and pinches your cheek before he continues. "cute" his hands leave your waist as yours leave his neck, and Jungkook gets back to collect your suitcases and takes them out at the door.

"got everything you need?" you look around again and nod in eager. "wait here, I'll check around." "don't trust me?" "just to be sure." he walks inside and checks each room, and he returns with an unsealed back of trail mix. "and she said she got everything."

"Hey, I forgot about this." you grab it from his hand and pop a few dried cranberries into your mouth as you walk beside him to the elevator. you're excited to see Bam, to go back to that house. it was empty, you agree but it's still his home and it's got bits and pieces of him that make you feel closer to Jungkook.

back a month ago when you stayed at his place it was just a sort of security to you, it wasn't anything like now. now it's different, there's a feeling to it, emotions are involving now. Being in his personal space and seeing him in his natural environment is both exciting and calming.

you're finally gonna see him in his casuals and it just gives you a feeling of.. something you can't describe yet. he loads the bags into the car and then takes the driver's while you sit beside him. "wanna take control of the music?"

he asks you with sparkling eyes. you nod and connect your Spotify. the drive is quiet, you look out the window while he focuses on the road, and the both of you take secret glances at each other and hide the smile.

however, Jungkook still can't get his mind off from how his day passed. it was a mess, with Yoongi and the almost hassle at your place. but what irritates him more is the whole matter with the older he had at his office. he doesn't want to refer to him as Hyung anymore, he'd stopped doing that years ago and refers to the man as Mr Min.

but everything that he said is taking a huge part of Jungkook's head and it's reluctantly showing on his face, which you grasped when you glanced over at him. "is something troubling your mind?" his eyes flick to yours and then the busy road, he puts on a smile with a shake of his head.

"nothing at all. maybe what happened at your place." you know that it can't be that silly, he never yelled at you before too so it has to be something else that's bothering him. you wanted him to be open to you, you would love to be part of his thoughts, so he can share and not devour them.

but you're also afraid of coming across as pressuring or too nosy about his business. so you let it slide away, Maybe once you two have reached a more solid stage, you could ask him to share his thoughts with you.

-

Hoseok has had enough of keeping things in his mind, he's been feeling down the past few months and if that wasn't enough, overhearing the gossip of the ladies had successfully managed to leave an imprint in his mind.

he'd been feeling worse than he did before. he paces back and forth in the middle of his living room trying to find ways to contact you, you don't respond to his texts, you barely open them but calling you would be too intrusive. he'd got his phone in hand, staring at the screen as the clock ticks by each second.

it's troubling his mind and he just wants to know if any of them were speaking the truth. He doesn't know what to believe anymore. His eyes or his ears? He finds both of them unrealistic, or maybe he just doesn't want to think it's possible. The conflicting information swirls in his mind, making him question his reality.

his doubtful mind needs some relief but why does he feel this way? he doesn't think it's right to feel this- he shouldn't be feeling anything at all in fact. You're just his colleague, that's it. the line was drawn long ago.

poor Hoseok manages to take a seat on the couch as he looks out the window, the darkness of the streets and the dimness of the moonlight, allow him to deeply sigh. he knows this isn't a good sign. this isn't like him, he knows himself and he knows that he's making a big mistake but just feeling...

-

"the house is too quiet.. is Bam asleep?" you whisper asking Jungkook as he pushes the entrance door and turns to face you. "he just didn't hear your voice yet." "Can I call his name out?" you ask, curiously.

your eyes wait for a reaction of approval which Jungkook gives with a smile. "I never stopped you." he says as he waits for you to take out his puppy's name. "Bam-i?" you say his name out louder and immediately a bark follows, the pup runs towards you and begins dancing around, showing his moves that speak his happiness and welcome for you.

"aww, hi Bam-i, it's been long." you bend down to carry the little one in your arms, he's getting bigger and heavier since the first time you met him. the little boy's eyes were large, perfectly round and wide. he had innocence in them, love in depth and it would melt your heart whenever you meet his gaze.

now the pup is bigger, his eyes hold courage, confidence and bravery in them. Jungkook takes his time as he watches his favorite two have their little welcoming session that is too endearing to him. "if you two are done, y/n shall we get you to your room? it's quite late." you nod at his words and put Bam down after peppering him with kisses and lovely compliments.

Jungkook helps with the luggage and guides you to the room like it's your first time being here. It's the first time being here since things have become more intimate and comfortable. You walked out during a heated argument when you were both in a phase of strong dislike, but things have improved significantly since then.

which was something neither of you had ever imagined. "there there, back to your room huh." Jungkook says as he places the suitcases near your bed and dusts his pants before turning to face you. you look at him confusedly with a tilt in your head.

"back to my room?" "yeah, this became your room the first day you entered here. in fact, I didn't make any changes to it. I left it the way you did." he says, since you rearranged the furniture to make the place more comfortable when you moved in a few months ago. a soft smile decorates your place as you grow closer to him.

"thanks Jungkook." you whisper and he frowns, he feels slightly surprised at your thanks and doesn't want you to feel like he's doing this as a part of his duties. "for not changing the furniture back to its original place, I didn't like the couch being too close to the bed."

you say and he chuckles nervously, he'd assumed you were gonna go into a different direction but it was about the couch. He didn't think you had good humor. "you're a good actress huh." he mutters when your fake pout changes into a devil smile after you catch him looking worried about your thank you. he takes two steps forward, leaving just a few inches between the two of you. "I'm good at everything."

you whisper, your eyes looking everywhere except his, just to tease him. "yeah?" he grabs your hand and pulls you to cut the inches, your eyes gaze at him so does he, a smirk pasted on his face. his face leans towards yours just to place a kiss on your forehead. your eyes close at the warmth of his pretty lips on your skin as you breathe in his scent.

he looks down at you with a gentle smile and asks, "What would you like for dinner?" you press your lips together, biting your inner cheek as you think. "mmmm." "mmm." he repeats as he waits for your answer. "your pasta."

"pasta again?" his eyebrows raise, and he thinks how you could eat the same food over and over again. "yeah... it's all I can think of!" "you know that I can make anything, don't hesitate." you look down and twirl side to side slowly with a pout. "I know but... I really wanna eat your handmade one." he smiles and nods.

"alright, I'll get started on it. meanwhile, change into your PJs. I'll bring the food up to your room-" "But you said no eating inside the bedroom." you remember what the man said the very first few days when he'd prepared dinner for you.

he chuckles and cups your face. 'oh he's so warm!' you think. "that was way before, things have changed okay. I just want you to be comfortable." he murmurs and you giggle like a child. he can't take it anymore, the sound of it is just everything he wants to hear every day.

he can feel your cheeks in his palms, he's so happy that you're all healthy now unlike the time you found out about your pregnancy. now he can feel the puffiness of your cheeks yet your features remain slim like your nose. he'd heard about the pregnancy nose before but he doesn't see it in you.

all you've got is some beautiful apple cheeks that grow when you smile and bring this glow to your face that makes him go crazy. you look the same as the first night he met you, just with a bump and some cheeks decorating you, it's only made you look cuter.

"okay!" your voice gets high pitched and childish, he bites back another cheeky smile so he could leave and make your dinner, you've got this effect on him. he just wants to stay around you and be beside you as much as he can.

-

"you never pick up my calls y/n, what's keeping you this busy? this isn't like you." your mother has been whining for the past 10 minutes and all you've been doing is keeping quiet. you're at fault, you won't deny that. it's been weeks since you last answered your mother's phone calls and you're fully aware that she worries a lot;

you've just been adding to her already anxious state. "Mom... but I'm okay-" you speak softly, feeling guilty for keeping her in the dark about all the new additions in your life, which your parents have to know, they have all the right to know what's going on with your life especially since you're not alone now, you carry their grandchild.

"okay? you can be okay but I'm not. I won't tolerate this behavior from you anymore! I've always given you personal space but when you don't care about your parents, I might have to interfere." you can hear the urgency and panic in her voice, your sweet mother is furious at you and she has to be, you never responded to her in weeks, she's bound to feel mad.

"all you have to do is answer my calls, I only call you once a week y/n. if you don't have the time for your mother... I don't know-" her voice trails, it carries disappointment. your poor mother is always filled with emotions, she's your sun and moon, and her voice carries happiness, joy, pride and care for you but today, she's null.

"hey Mom... I'm sorry. I really am." your tone gets low with your speech slow. she doesn't deserve this treatment, you're her only child. Jungkook raises his palm to knock on your door but then sees you seated on the bed changed into a pretty pink pajama, but with a change in expression. this wasn't how he'd left your room, you were cheery and excited in each feature of your face.

but now, your fingers draw invisible patterns on the bedsheets, and a tiny sulk decorates your features as you look blankly at your unseen drawings. he notices the phone near your ear and doesn't want to intrude so he walks towards your nightstand so he can place your bowl of pasta. it distracts you as your eyes meet his,

he shows you a palm as a sign to go on with your conversation and he attempts to leave your room but your palm catches his wrists stopping his further tracks. he turns to you and sees you mouthing 'stay.' he nods and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, a distance between the two of you since he wanted to give you space until you've done speaking to the unknown.

"how's dad?" you question and receive no response from the other line, which makes you sadder. your fingers now move to cradle your bump, and you sit cross-legged so your bump fits perfectly under the sheets. Jungkook is now aware that you're speaking to your parents so he grabs his phone from his sweatpants and scrolls through his emails until you're done.

he's glad that he fed Bam and cleaned the kitchen before coming to your room, he had his share of pasta while he was cooking so he's sufficiently full. "Mom...just tell me." you whine and she huffs before you hear your father's voice. "I'm fine Honey, was worried about you."

the sound of your father's disheartened tone makes your day worse, you hum instead and then hear your mom say. "if you're sorry, will you call me at least once a week?" "yes Mom, I will! - I will call you tomorrow. I'm sorry." You mutter quickly, feeling relieved that you've been allowed to apologize. "I'll talk to you tomorrow Mom."

you linger for sometime until you hear her say a soft "okay..." you decline the call and keep the phone away, cradling your bump as you watch it. "everything okay?" Jungkook asks as he places his phone back inside the pocket of his grey sweatpants. you meet his curious gaze and nod, giving him a half smile. he gets closer and bends his head to see your face that's been looking down for quite some time now.

"hey? you can talk to me yeah." he says and takes your hand to caress it with his thumb. "what's wrong?" you see him looking at you with those eyes that make you want to give in. "it's just mom, I don't wanna talk about it." you murmur and he picks up the quiver in your voice, so he doesn't force it from you. "okay." he huffs and tugs your palm gently.

"wanna have some pasta?" your quick nod makes him chuckle so he grabs the bowl and brings it closer to you. "there you go! Pesto alla Genovese." you grab the fork and place a few penne into your mouth. they burst from flavors of meat and onions, just the way you like them. you moan at the taste of it, which brings out a little smile from him.

"you like that?" "Mm-hmm." you mumble and poke more penne from the fork to fill your mouth with it. Jungkook passes the bowl to you and gestures for you to wait, with his index finger. he gets on his feet and walks out of your room only to come back with another serving bowl. your forehead creases and your chewing slows down as he grows closer to you with the bowl hidden behind him.

"I may have experimented and I hope you like it." he begins as he sits beside you and hands you a bowl of Nutella souffle. your eyes light up and you gulp down the pasta in two bites. "hey hey, this won't fly away. calm down bear."

"you don't understand, it's a souffle!" you try to swallow the rest of the food that's filled up inside your mouth. he tries hard to not laugh at your antics but eventually gives in when you open your palms for the mini casserole dish that he'd made it in. "I didn't have a Ramekin so I had to find a substitute and this dish was the closest to it."

he says as he passes you the gold spoon to crack the top of the dessert. "you've got to have a souffle when it's warm, it doesn't taste the best after a few minutes." you educate him and his lips form an 'o' shape, his thoughts tell him that he surely messed this up since he prepared it a while ago. "i- don't think you should have this then. I'll make you a fresh one, I've got some batter left-"

he tries to stop you from trying it, attempting to get back the dish before you poke in and let you taste it. "hey, don't worry about it. I'm sure it tastes fine. let me try it!" he lets you poke inside but he's got a slightly worried look on his face, he didn't know that you had to eat it as soon as it's taken out of the oven.

your lips close around the spoon which scooped the airy bake. your eyes meet his curious ones as he raises an eyebrow in question. "mmm, it's delicious Jungkook!" he lets out a relieved sigh but still feels disappointed. you notice it and feel guilty for telling him about it.

"Hey." your palm grabs him and he glances at you with a tight smile before he looks around the room. "you said this was an experiment. and it's amazing for a first try in fact.....you said there's more batter right?" he nods and frowns when you get out of bed. your hand still wrapped around his. "come on." "Where to?"

"let's bake a fresh one." you take the bowl with the pasta but he stops you and tells you that he's taking both of them downstairs. you both walk to the kitchen, he looks at you confusedly when you take the batter out of the refrigerator. "What are you up to?" "I'm in the middle of making a soufflé, obviously." he whines and takes it from you.

"Hold on, you can't make it. It was for you as my way to say sorry about earlier." he mutters with a hint of irritation lingering in his tone. "Hey, I've already forgiven you, and I was the one who mentioned the soufflé just for fun." "no, I'll do it."

he's hesitant in allowing you to make it. "hey Jungkook.." you place the bowl on the cabinet and meet his eyes. "it tasted great okay, it was an experiment and it was successful. don't feel upset about it. now... you and I can make another one and I'll show you when you should take it out of the oven so we both can enjoy one together okay?"

you murmur, your voice soft and understanding, it makes him agree within a few seconds. "but I'll handle everything, I want you to sit right there and give me instructions, yeah?" "sure Mr. Jeon, that will do!" you giggle and sit on one of the bar chairs as you begin to pass instructions over to him. you tell him to grease it well and dust it with a fair amount of sugar because you love it when it's sweeter.

you also let him know that he could use flour as a substitute, he gathers all this knowledge and keeps it in his mind. he now knows he needs to grease it with sugar or flour but his ears pass the flour because all he has to store is what you like and it's sugar so he doesn't need anymore information. you instruct him to fill the cups, leave some space so it can rise well and gently tap the mini casseroles on the counter so the surface will be smoothened.

"you missed out about the air bubbles being released." he says which makes you roll your eyes at him. "yeah yeah whatever Chef Jeon." he sniggers at the way you speak and the chef Jeon, he likes the sound of that. he brings over the cups to you and you see how it looks show him a thumbs up and tell him to now put it in the oven.

he gestures to you with his index finger grabs a paper towel and wipes the rim of the dishes like a professional chef, making you laugh at his actions. he puts them to bake like he did before and cleans up the little mess. you tried to help him but he forbade you so you didn't complain. "thought you didn't know how to cook."

he mutters as he wipes his hands with a towel while growing closer to you. you've almost done eating your pasta and when he places his hands on the counter and leans towards you, you attempt to feed him but he says he's had his share. you feel a tinge of embarrassment as if you'd become a little too intimate by feeding him, you're hoping he doesn't catch up on it and luckily he doesn't.

"I have no idea about cooking but this... I saw a TikTok today and it was just easy to remember." he hums and watches the bowl as you stir the balance of the penne. "you didn't have to do all this, you know. I was just teasing you bout it. I wasn't serious."

he gives you a side smile and looks at his fingers. "I know but I just wanted to try it for you. and you need a dessert after a good meal." he smirks and you nod at his words as you eat up the last of the pasta, clearing the bowl. "I agree!" he's quick to grab the bowl from you before you step down the chair to wash it up.

you sit back and cradle your bump as he offers a glass of water, you're overfed but you still manage to keep some space for the dessert because there's no way you're not gonna have Nutella souffle that looks bomb and is also made by Jungkook so it's just one more reason to have it. He takes his phone for some time and gets notified by an unknown number for the fourth time of the day.

the messages says;

'Jungkook you can't ignore me. we need to talk just once. I need to clear things up. - Taehyung.'

'kookie I'm sorry about today, can we please make up for it? at your office? a cafe? your place? anything. - yoongi. '

it frustrates him that everyone is on a mission to talk to him and he doesn't want to keep any connections with them but they still attempt and it only gets on his nerves. it's too late and he does not want to get irritated by these texts so he chooses to leave his phone on silent. "what do you think about a visit to your parents?"

he asks out of the blue and that makes you choke on the liquid. "hey, careful." he pats on your back a few times and looks at your face for any sign. "my parents?" "yeah?" your eyes search his face and then around the kitchen because you feel slightly uncomfortable.

"what makes you want to visit my parents?" you feel your heart at your mouth and it makes you think of various scenarios of why he would want to meet your parents. "no, I didn't mean it like that." "then what?" he chuckles and grabs a bottle of wine from the fridge. "I meant to ask if you would want to visit your parents, not me."

you hum and bite the inner corners of your lips to think for a bit. it would be out of the thought to meet your parents, you hadn't even informed them about your pregnancy yet. "no, it's fine..." Jungkook catches on the uneasiness of your tone and fiddling of your fingers.

"they know about the pregnancy, right?" he asks you, your eyes flicker to his sideways glance and then back to the ground, which makes him deeply sigh. he didn't expect this from you. "y/n, I think it's best if they know now. it's already too late." "I need time, I'm not ready." you say and shift in your seat uncomfortably.

he walks to you and leans on the counter to stop your fingers from twiddling. he sighs again and looks at you, he sees the disappointment and sadness in your eyes and knows that this is a difficult topic. "hey, look at me." he whispers and you gulp as you continue to look at his hands that wrap around yours. "darling, eyes at me."

he tilts your chin to meet his eyes and sees yours as your hesitant but you still chose to look at him. "I know this is difficult and requires courage but your parents have the right to know. how long will you keep them in the dark? don't they deserve to know?"

he asks you as your eyes linger on his, you give him a slow nod and he smiles, his fingers caressing the back of your hand to comfort you and tell you that it's okay. "not now but soon, you need to inform them okay. they are your family and they need to know." he murmurs and you whisper an 'okay' with a tight smile on your lips.

"good! now the souffle is ready and is waiting to be taken out." he speaks in a cheery tone as he wears the black gloves and pulls out the two cups. a smile decorates your face as you push away the thoughts about how you're gonna inform your parents about the pregnancy. Jungkook dusts some icing sugar on top of the surface and lets you poke into it.

the spoon now smoothly pushes inside the airy bake and as you take it out, the Nutella drips from the edges and drops fall onto your finger. "ouch-" you flinch when you feel the burning drop slipping inside your sick, burning your thumb.

Jungkook was quick to put your finger inside his mouth, licking the hot Nutella off your thumb and providing a cooling sensation from his salvia. his tongue wraps itself around your finger as he looks focused on managing to give you quick relief so the burning won't feel worse on your skin.

your movements halt when you feel him sucking your finger and how soft his lips are around your fingers and how cold his tongue feels. he removes your thumb and looks at you worriedly, "does it still burn? You okay? do we need to use some ointment?"

he questions faster and puts your thumb inside his mouth again giving you tingles and making goosebumps rise your little hairs as shivers run down your spine. "I'm fine. you look good wrapped around my finger."

you whisper as his eyes flicker to yours and realize what he's been doing. your thumb still inside his mouth, his eyes looking up at yours while you look down at him with a smirk on your face as you bite your lip so teasingly.

you drop the spoon back into the cup and place your hand under your chin to watch him look like this. he looks like such a tease as he intentionally now sucks on your finger slowly. so...slowly. you bite your lip and look at him with siren eyes, a stupid yet tempting smile sits on your face. he pulls his lips off your fingers with a pop! sound, seductively.

"you know what looks better?" he questions, his eyes now droopy as he licks his bottom lips. he knows what you're doing to him, he'd seen this 6 months ago. "what?" you ask in a whisper getting closer to his face. his eyes move from yours left to right before he glances at your lips.

"your lips wrapped around me........."

next chapter ⇢

[funnyscienceman]

Ok but like WHYY did ubisoft have to insist with the one game a year thing. Why couldnt they let syndicate cook in the oven more. Why do they have THREE queer men in the same game and not do ANYTHING with them!!!

Like yes, yes, i get it, i get wanting to for once make a story in a fun setting where you dont have to think about real life prejudice and hardships and bigotry and just have characters be silly, i love that too. I do! And id be all for that if doing it just didnt waste a potentially banger study of the characters and the setting ;-;

Like god i go back and forth on this constantly. I already love syndicate as it is, i think it's fun and neat and the happy gaming vibes about it is core to its identity, it's just that simultaneous to that, three queer men in the same game!!!

like GOD im still miffed that there are only, like, two or three fics about this, and so far i havent found any discussion or anything of it, but oh my god how different all three of them are from each other. You could do so much just with having any of them in the same room — and they are often enough in the same room (jacob and either ned or roth at a time), but nothing's really done there!

we have roth who sees fcking nothing wrong with getting kids hurt, because he doesnt actually care about anyone or anything, he's just some fucking joker wannabe that yeah, sure, probably has some anger and resentment at society because he's a gay man in his 40s or 50s by now, but jesus fucking christ retaliation against homophobia does not equal rampant needless unproductive violence roth!!!

then we have ned, who — i mean he doesnt ever give his opinion on whether kids deserve any respect or anything but considering in every other department he's pretty much just Some Guy, it'd be fair to assume he also has the extremely average stance of 'dont fcking kill kids and dont blow up buildings for no good reason??' in the grand scheme of the templar-assassin stuff he has just about as much relevance as roth: roth was just the boss of the blighters, ned just finances the fryes by virtue of them working for him. He probably doesnt even know about it, and tbh i dont even know if he'd care??? But like i imagine roth doesnt care in the way of 'as long as you dont get in my way, it's all set dressing,' ned i imagine would be smth like 'are yall fckin serious? are you kidding me rn? i have to skirt around transphobes on a daily basis, now youre telling me there's a secret society on top of that with even worse ideas?? What the fuck???'

like uh, not caring about it as in 'I cant deal with this rn i need a nap'

HE'S JUST AN EXTREMELY REGULAR PERSON (besides the crime lord stuff) IS WHAT IM GETTING AT.

then there's jacob, who's the youngest out of these guys btw, fckin 21 good god he should be at the club not trying to disassemble systemic oppression— ANYWAY

(ned is 27-28 over the course of the game, btw; we dont actually have a solid timeline for anything, just the year, so tbh jacob could've also been 20 and not 21 yet during the game. both he and ned have late birthdays, just a month apart)

so, yknow, being extremely early 20-somethings, both frye twins just take a train to london completely on impulse and dive headfirst into undoing the templars that've had an iron grip over the city for basically as long as they've been alive, yknow, as you do; and throughout the game jacob has to deal with goddamn daddy issues and fighting with his sister and insecurity and trying to be an assassin — and that's a lot for a guy to handle!! Especially one who's still just a couple years out of being a teenager! That's a fucking lot and if the devs are right, then he hasnt even realized that he's bi yet! Not until roth fucking kisses him while jacob's got a knife in his throat for the aforementioned indiscriminate, unproductive violence!

i mean, granted, yeah there were gay undertones during sequence 8, but i have to admit my bias here because i honest to god cannot take those missions seriously. Roth fucking preaches this and that about freedom and whatnot and then im plopped into the mission and it's the most rule-heavy shit ive ever seen in my short life as an assassin's creed player. Like what the hell, those missions were atrocious. Apprently i need to detonate the bombs a specific way, i cant just shoot them from a distance, i have to hold a button crouching down right next to the bombs, and then run the hell away! I have to avoid THIS and THAT while kidnapping xyz! Like there's freddy's apprehend missions and then there's THIS.

at least with ned's missions all you have to do is get the shit and go… i'm still salty that ubisoft cut his questline because they fucking insist on releasing a game a year >:((

my battery's dying. All these guys are different flavors of queer on top of just being pretty different and pretty similar in various ways, and there's just… barely anything about it. Ned especially, since he's just a quest giver whose screentime totals to, like, 2-5 minutes. I just wish they really did more with the setting; not just the queerness and these three specifically, but like, evie, henry, the class conflict — like there are shreds of it, seeds, but there's not much before you kill starrick and credits roll :((

idk. im just gonna refresh ao3 again cjemddjekjx

[crazyringo]

Okay. Since I've started playing HSR, I hardly surfed Tumblr for any theories. Mostly started doing so 2.0 onwards, and most of them are pretty interesting reads. However, one theory for 2.3 has me lukewarm since it first started... And that's Sunday potentially becoming a Stellaron Hunter.

While interesting in theory, I honestly don't really see it happening. Yes, Elio is indeed striving towards the Script that displays a better future for everyone. And yeah, okay, Sunday wanted to ensure everyone's happiness within the dreamscape and with this line of thinking we can assume he'd want to ensure the best possible future for everyone being a Stellaron Hunter. And while we can all agree that he's a misguided good boy with good intentions, I still don't see him joining the group.

Here's why (my opinion): He'd be leaving Robin behind.

His beloved sister who, despite his betrayal (and by that I mean being the cause for Robin's singing voice), still hugged and forgive him for his mistakes. Despite the fact that he had failed to achieve his goal, he was still loved by the one person he cared for most. I honestly don't see him leaving her behind...

And if he did join the Stellaron Hunters, who by the way are considered to be dangerous criminals/terrorists among other things by the IPC and the rest of the cosmos, it'd be damning for Robin's career as a renowned songstress since she's related to Sunday, who's a family head and most likely a well-known authoritative figure outside of Penacony. I wouldn't be surprised if Robin had mentioned his name every so often whenever she did her thank you speeches in interviews on radio and/or TV

Moreover, before his boss fight, he did say that he wanted a fair fight with the Trailblazer. He wanted to see whose ideal was stronger. Clearly, it was the Trailblazer's. Personally, I see Sunday being a man of his word. He's confident, righteous, and very clever for his age. I don't see him being a sore loser. And since Robin forgave him, I'd like to think that he would no longer push himself as hard as he did before. For me, Robin's hug tells Sunday he's no longer alone. That no matter what happens next with the Family they will still have each other to rely on. I really adore/admire their bond as siblings and the theory of Sunday potentially becoming a Stellaron Hunter kind of saddens me if they're going to be apart

Now, if Hoyoverse DOES go through with this theory... Fine. I will accept it for what it is, but they better do a damn good job of it narrative wise. And if he doesn't, that will be great for me because the Halovian siblings will be together.

Not to mention, story wise, Firefly has mentioned more than once that the reason why she's in Penacony is to guide the Astral Express to the truth of what's going on. There was no mention of potential recruitment concerning her Script. Who knows? That might possibly change in 2.3, but with everything else going on story wise with Sparkle, the IPC, and the Family I highly doubt it's going to happen.

Don't get me wrong. I love Sunday's character, and I'm sure that he'd be a great asset to the Stellaron Hunters if he becomes one. I just don't see it. If anything, I'd rather have him be a new member in the Astral Express. Robin could be calm and pretty much be free of worries if her brother is surrounded by people she can trust. And they could communicate on the phone and write letters to each other when they have the time/arrive at a new planet. She'd be worried sick if Sunday was with the Stellaron Hunters, and of course if that were to happen there's hardly going to be any communication between them. I'd like our chicken wing siblings to be in a safe environment, thank you! 😤

Overall, the Penacony storyline has been awesome. Though, admittedly, I was kind of disappointed on the lack of Silver Wolf. Was hoping to see more screen time with her since she's paired up with Firefly for this assignment but~ nope! Our Wolfie, yet again, works from the sidelines. Other than that minor complaint, it's definitely been an emotional rollercoaster for me as I played through the story. And while I am excited for 2.3, I am also apprehensive about it...

Something deep down in my gut tells me that we're going to lose someone in the finale. And if not our precious Firefly, then it's going to be our good boy Sunday.

I really don't have much thoughts for Firefly aside from I obviously don't want her to die, so I can't speak much there. For Sunday, on the other hand, I can. I am scared for this boy. Fear has gripped my heart the moment I heard his voice line on that clue we find on the Grand Theater.

Sunday. Is. Scared.

Since the moment he's been introduced, he's been nothing but cool, calm, and collected. Now, this poor boy is scared. Considering he had failed miserably on what the Family had been planning for years, I would not be surprised if they throw the poor boy to the wolves. The wolves being the IPC. Since Jade is now in Penacony... I predict that this will not end well.

Aside from attempting to reclaim Penacony for the IPC, I wouldn't be surprised if Jade mentions about Aventurine's mistreatment during his stay with one of the Family heads to get a word in edge wise. To which, they would simply say, "We know. He's no longer one of us. Do as you see fit." Giving Sunday over to the IPC in exchange for Penacony's independence in the name of "Harmony" so that said "Harmony" would be restored on both sides. If that line of thought more or less happens on 2.3, I sincerely hope that the Astral Express will be able to save him before it's too late. That, or maybe the Family will use Sunday as collateral and force Robin to cooperate with their plan B to ensure Sunday's safety (I really hope not)

Something also tells me that we as the Trailblazer are going to be forced to make a very, very difficult choice for 2.3... As in, one or the other kind of scenario. And, of course, there's only ONE right answer in said choice and I really hate those...! *Glares at Black Swan, who forces you to hear out Aventurine's truth, despite me not trusting him (still don't tbh. I'd rather trust Sampo, and that's also bad lol)*

But yeah, those are my current thoughts as of now. Might be wrong on some things, but I at the very least wanted to put my thoughts out there before 2.3 arrives. I'm looking forward to the next update, and I definitely can't wait to bring my darling Firefly home! I'll finally have a full Stellaron Hunter team~! Jade, too. Me love evil gorgeous lady! 💕

Good luck on your pulls everyone~!

[snorkling-in-sodasea]

Theories of the Mastermind

Yeah, I didn't think I would be able to transition into it well in the last post so I wanted to talk about the part where Stolas asked what would happen to his daughter when he lost his crown. Despite how he never even thought about her at any point of time when he thought he was going to die.

Really, when I realized that, I thought, 'did Stolas only bring up Octavia as an excuse to keep his crown?'

Because yeah, one consistent flaw of Stolas throughout the show is that he dislikes confrontation so much that he'll always, always, always take the easy way out, even if it ends up making things worse or making the ones he says he loves suffer. So I'm like, 'did Stolas consider death to be the easy way out?' Because if he's left alive, then that would mean he'd have to be actually conscious of it when losing everything. Sure, Stolas lost his crown, powers, position, and all that when his life was spared, but it's not like he was gonna keep everything if he were to die so yeah. I'm inclined to believe that Octavia being asked about later when Stolas realizes he's not going to die is just an excuse to not get kicked out of the fancy mansion

As for why Stolas even bothered, maybe it's another of his romantic fantasies again. He saves Blitzo's life even if it means throwing away his own, he completely changed Blitzo's feelings and even hear the change of heart as the last words heard... basically, Stolas gets to die with the image of a love martyr or something, along with the knowledge that he got some extent of what he always wanted, at least since season 2

Even without that, even though Stolas loves his daughter, it's still incompetent on Stolas's part, never thinking about his child even once when he was going to die but then actually asking when he would be left alive but without his position. Not to mention, it's such a spectacular train of derailed thought that I simply cannot follow. I mean, seriously, how could Stolas ever think that Octavia will be all hunky-dory when he dies but be worse off if he lives but gets stripped of his crown? Where is the fucking logic in that?

Besides, if Stolas was going to care so much that he'd lose his daughter, then you'd think he'd bother thinking of that before giving the grimoire to Blitzo. And yeah, that action has so obviously obvious consequences that it makes one wonder how does another not realize it soon after getting the idea, let alone at any point of time in the amount of time Stolas has spent lending out the book

Really, I remember acrobatic silky from Dandadan. When she was still human, she loved and cared for her daughter very much. I actually see the dependably good characteristics in the mother's treatment towards the daughter in the flashbacks so I can say that. Really, the only part where the mother messed up was getting the 'brilliant' idea to steal from a fucking gang to get enough money to pay off a pretty dress for her daughter to wear

Yeah, to me, Stolas did something that vastly stupid. Like, I don't mean to insult Acrobatic Silky, but there are some things that you just don't do without expecting it to ever bite you in the fucking ass. (And sure enough, the gang that the mother stole money from invaded her house, beat the shit out of her, and took the girl away. And Acrobatic Silky thought that the takeaway is that her daughter shouldn't have been her daughter because then the girl would be happy; apparently the stupid-ass idea to steal from a gang had nothing to do with it in Silky's mind) Though it's probably funny that Dandadan can make me feel more sympathy for the idiot parent that is Silky Acrobat than Helluva Boss can make me for its own idiot parent that is Stolas Geotia

[ivy-loves-chocolate]

Can we see more of Krauser please? You write him so well! 😫 Maybe some hc's about him and his s/o? Can be fluff and or smut.

Hope you have a great day! 🥺

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ N o t e ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ Sure anon! I'm glad you like how I write him 🥺 I made both SFW and NSFW ones. And my day is great, thank you! I hope you have a great day too. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated because your feedback is important to me. Enjoy!

His s/o is probably one of the few beautiful things in his life. Literally, he puts them on a pedestal, and he makes sure you won't forget how special you are to him.

Jack will spoil you with compliments and all sorts of riches, just to make you feel appreciated and happy.

Sometimes he will murmur in his sleep or flinch because of the nightmares he has. All he needs is your gentle touch to wake up and see that he isn't in real danger. He falls back asleep immediately because he feels safe with you.

He likes to be the big spoon, but he won't say no if you want to switch.

Krauser smokes a lot, about one pack a day if not more when he comes from a mission. You two argue sometimes about his unhealthy habit, but he is stubborn and won't listen. He will try to smoke less in your presence, though.

He loves his sister so much that he considers retiring just to spend more time with her.

He will teach you some knife tricks and some combat moves for your safety. He has a lot of patience with you, and training with him will be another bonding time.

His training routine is hard, and you almost fainted when you tried doing it too. Krauser got a little worried, and after that, he will adjust his training routine so you can join safely too.

He doesn't mind that you get a little clingy and follow him around. As I said, he loves your company, and you are like a breath of fresh air. His job gets ugly sometimes, and he is happy when he gets a warm welcome from you. It can be either a hug, a cuddling session, or just a warm meal; he'd appreciate everything you do for him.

During hugs, he likes when you hold him tight and he gets to bury his head in the crook of your neck. It makes him feel safe and valued.

When he doesn't return your calls or texts during his missions, you start to get worried. You're not delusional; you know that he is busy, but your mind can't stop thinking about the worst possible outcomes. What if he got shot? What if she is lying dead somewhere? There are a lot of "what ifs" that harm you, but you can't ignore them.

He does call you back when he is back to safety, and you are so happy to hear his voice that you almost cry.

No matter where he goes, he makes sure to get some cute souvenirs for you. From keychains to expensive jewelry, Krauser won't come empty-handed.

He prefers sex positions that include full-body contact, such as the missionary, the flat iron, or the lotus. He isn't very picky in bed, and if you want to try something new, he won't say no.

He likes sex toys but doesn't use them often. He likes to make you cum with his cock and fingers, not some plastic toy.

His cock is fairly above average and slightly thick, so he needs to warm you up really well before entering you.

He always compliments you during sex about how good your pussy/ass is, how cute you are when you sob, etc.

Has a size kink and a dacryphilia one, but it's more of a secret. You'll figure it out when he'll constantly hits your cervix so hard that you start tearing up, and at that moment, his cock will throb hard and his moans will get louder.

Your pleasure is his top priority.

He loves when you look into his eyes while blowing him. He loves how those big eyes of yours stare at him while your pretty mouth is full of his cock.

He loves cybersex. It can be sexting, or if he is alone, you can do it on video call too. 

He secretly likes to be dominated. He sometimes gets a boner when you boss him around. He won't admit it tho.

Tag list: @alewesker @rokurodokuro (if you wanna be added DM me) 💖

[moodymisty]

In His Shadow

Author's Note: A fun, personal project for one of my favorite clones. Finally a fic that I actually feel somewhat pleased with; It just seemed to work out well. I hope other people think the same, or at least enjoy it.

Summary: Sev has always been very purposeful in his gentleness towards you, but you don't want that this time.

Relationships: Sev/Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Rough sex, Clothed sex, Alleyway sex, Quickies, Getting boned by a clone in full armor, Unprotected sex, Mentions of alcohol, Big meanie Sev has two modes

Word Count: 4368

Ao3 Link

Sev has two sides.

He’s a romantic. You remember how surprised you'd been at that; How you'd read his messages to you that would be so heartfelt and dreamlike, telling you of pretty skylines on faraway planets and how he can still feel your touch on his skin. What he says could be at times be considered poetry in it's own unique way, sending them to you in the middle of the night when he’s just off the battlefield and the adrenaline was just starting to wear off, or when he's stuck on Kamino in the same routine since he was first popped from his pod.

Sev is also gruff. Cut off, quiet, to the point; Rough.

He rarely speaks a word at times, eyes always watching and thinking. Clone Commando training has sharpened him to a point, and leaves him stern, tight-lipped, and at times overprotective of the few things he loves.

You love both sides of him. You couldn’t get one without the other, and you wouldn’t want to in the first place.

But it would be wrong to say that you always want him to be a romantic. You love him, but you also wouldn’t mind if for a night, he didn’t handle you like you were a fragile figurine.

You know he can do it. You’ve seen glimpses of it, when he’s moments away from losing control, the edges fraying like a shoddy old rope about to snap. But he always manages to hold it together, to kiss your lips like it’s the first time, to gently cradle your neck instead of grabbing a fistful of your hair.

Maybe it just needs to be teased out of him. You know some of the things that make him hot under the collar, so you think you have the gathered up confidence to do so.

It helps that Sev is a little looser than he usually is tonight; Not by much, you don't think he'd ever let himself get plastered, but a good drink and some post deployment rest have made him just the tiniest bit more malleable. The same goes for the rest of his brothers, who sit at the same booth all relaxing over some drinks. Scorch and Boss have ordered the most by far, but no one is truly drunk yet.

You take a quick glance outward and note that the bar isn’t too busy; But the Deltas aren’t the only clones having been given a rare break from the war effort, so there’s still plenty of colored armor organized in batches throughout the bar.

The shinies will intermingle, but clones painted with the colors of a particular squad or battalion will usually stay within groups of their own. It's more so just familiarity than anything else, but it's something that's hard not to notice. The behavior is even more so common with the rare squads of Commandos who come in here or presumably other clone friendly bars, as they always stay with just their pod-brothers; And everyone else eager to stay away and let them do so.

It’s less so a suggestion and more a general rule of thumb; You don’t fuck with Commandos.

They are stronger, larger, and more antisocial. And when you pick a fight, you get the whole squad. Rarely do you deal with only one. As such, it’s not out of the ordinary for Clone Commandos to have bubbles around them, as many are too nervous to risk offsetting one of them. Rightfully so. And you aren't dealing with the usual training; Commandos are a whole 'nother level, at least according to troopers you've spoken to. Hell, one of them still thinks you have a screw loose for asking Sev out all those cycles ago.

Maybe you just have a thing for the odd ones.

“Come on, who wouldn't be confident in our flawless record?” Looking back across the table instead of staring off, you join back into the conversation. Scorch downs the last of his drink, and you’ve lost count of how many down he is now.

"I just think you all should keep being careful,” You look towards Fixer. “At least for Fixer’s sake. He has to deal with you lot the most.” He rolls his eyes, but hopefully for his sake they'll listen even a little bit. You'd like Sev to remain in one piece.

"Don't bother. They'll never listen. Not like I haven't tried a million times." Fixer shrugs his shoulders in less so defeat, and more so acceptance. He knows his brothers well. It makes you laugh, but you can't help but worry about Sev's recklessness at times; He always promises to come back home, but you can't help thinking about something happening.

But now isn't the time to worry about that sort of stuff anyways. Not when he's right beside you.

As if he felt you looking at him Sev turns his head slightly and looks down at you right against his shoulder, his eyes softening just a tad. He gives your knee a little squeeze, before taking back his hand. He throws his arm back around the top of the booth, so it lays just behind your head.

He's said before he loves the soft feeling of your skin, and once admitted in a moment where his lips were looser than normal that it distracted him. It's a weakness of his, and one that as you'd planned earlier, intend to exploit quite heavily.

It's been weeks since you've touched him, and now that he's finally back safe from deployment, you want him riled up.

Hidden underneath the table gently take Sev’s hand, holding it with both of yours. You keep it like that for just a bit, before finally making your move.

Slowly you pull his hand until it lands on your thigh, his fingers brushing just what would be the middle. Not high, but close. He glances over at you curiously for a moment, before looking back to his brothers. You've done nothing crazy, so he doesn't take too much mind to it; It's not as if he wasn't doing something like it moments ago.

You don’t even know what the rest of them are talking about anymore; Scorch is a blabbermouth when he drinks and conversations are changing so fast. You're more distracted by Sev now anyways, and you can feel your face start to heat up just a bit at the thoughts running through your head. You fan feel his large hand gently squeezing the meat of your thigh, feeling it mold underneath as he moves his fingers in an almost mindless gesture. Or maybe it isn't so mindless? He's sitting upright a little more now, and seems a bit more on edge.

With one hand you place it over his again, and slowly you begin pulling it upwards towards the tops of your thighs. His fingertips fall between, and he can feel how warm you are through the fabric of his gloves.

Sev this time gets keen on your plan, however. He only has to turn his body a tad, before he leans down into your space. His breath is hot against the shell of your ear, and you swear you can smell him even through the liquor and greasy food. But no one can hear him but you.

“Thin ice.”

Is all he has to whisper in your ear.

If his goal was to stop you, whispering in your ear with a voice so deep like chocolate over gravel isn’t going to calm you. If anything, he only makes your thighs tighten together, a jolt of sensation traveling down your spine directly to your cunt. You can feel his now warmer than usual skin as he presses his forehead to the side of your face, still looking like he's whispering something in your ear for a moment.

You have no plans to heed his warning however; And in another feat of daring, you slowly take a few of your fingers and slip them into his glove, your skin brushing against his as you try to take it off. You can hear his disapproving hum- even though he makes no effort to actually stop you- and once you manage to get his glove off your thighs spread just enough that you push his hand deeper between them.

He can feel the softness of your skin just below the hem of your dress, and given how sitting has risen it up slightly, he wouldn’t have to move much more to reach their apex. In fact, he swears he can feel your clothed pussy brush over the outer side of his hand. You only need to move his hand once to rub against the fabric of your underwear, before he pulls his hand away.

Sev leans back to look fully at you, and with one glance at his expression you know it’s over.

That ice he mentioned? It’s cracked under your feet, and you’ve fallen into the dark water. He is going to kill you.

Sitting up more rigid you clear your throat in an attempt to get the rest's attention, while also trying to ignore Sev glaring holes into the side of your head. Maybe you should've done this a little later, or maybe a little more slowly.

“Sorry guys, I’ve had a great night tonight, but I think I should head out.” Scorch is loud, louder than usual with so much spotcha in him, groaning at you.

“Oh come on! Don’t leave me with the two hardasses! You’re the only other fun one!”

You ignore his plea, and with hands pressing on the edge of the table you get up, moving to slide out. Sev follows, almost like a shadow. When you’re both standing he has a hand gripping the fabric on the small of your back tight.

‘Hurry it up.’, is what the silent gesture clearly says. You back up into him just a tad and your body presses against him, and you hear him make a quiet noise.

“Sorry Scorch. I’ll make it up to you all later." You take one step back, giving a small smile. "See you guys next time.”

With hasty farewells given, Sev's hand on your back pushes you in the direction towards the back of the bar, where there’s a hallway; At the end a door leading into the alley. It’s mostly storage back here and whatnot, but it avoids having to push through the crowds at the front of the bar, which is what Sev wants right now. He wants the soonest possible spot where he can surely cuss you out for this, feeling himself strain against his armor. No matter now many times he attempts to make room for his heated neck or adjust his codpiece, nothing gives him relief.

You glance up at him while you both walk, before looking down and seeing the way his hand is gripping the edge of his own helmet; You fear any stronger, and he might snap it.

Pushing the back exit door open you both quickly shuffle through it, the warm summer air feeling much cooler than the stuffy heat from inside the bar. Neither of you comment on it, despite there clearly being some unsaid words being between the two of you.

They definitely aren't about the weather, however.

The moment the door closes and the two of you are finally alone, he grasps your shoulder, pushing your back against the wall. He stands in front of you, trapping you against it as an unmovable force. Though not that you'd want to leave.

The alleyway is dim; The lights are burning out and the shell around them is old and worn. As such Sev’s face is shadowed, his body pressing you hard against the wall.

“What were you thinking?”

His voice is strained, glaring at you while you sink into his shadow. You purse your lips and roll your eyes.

“Can I not hold your hand?” Sev’s tone of voice is borderline venomous, strained as the rough fabric of his glove slides along the exposed skin of your shoulder.

“You were not just holding my hand. You know it.”

You do, but half the fun was pretending otherwise. Especially since that was another part of teasing him.

Your can feel the rough texture of the brick and ferrocrete through your clothes, all the while Sev’s chestplate is nearly pressing against your own chest. His helmet, which he’d been holding in his hand drops to the ground, settling upright so now both hands can grip at your form.

Leaning down his lips are ghosting against yours, and you can just barely feel them brush over your own as he whispers.

"You did that all on purpose, didn't you?"

He hears you let out a breathy laugh.

"Maybe." It didn't seem like Sev had the chance to shave since coming back, so the stubble on his face is rough when it brushes against your skin.

"Would you have kept going if I didn't stop you?" You more than likely would've hauled him off far before things got crazy, but it's not to say you wouldn't have dragged out the torture just a little bit more.

"...Maybe."

You feel his hands tense against your waist, and in one smooth motion you go from facing him to the wall, to your chest pressing against it. His hands slide downward to grip your hips and pull them towards his groin, forcing your hands to press into the rough texture of brick to keep steady. He takes a step closer, trapping you harder against the wall. One of his hands leaves your hip, pulling the front of your skirt up before sliding forward to slip between the front of your underwear and stomach.

It lingers for a moment, as if he's internally debating something; Before suddenly the tips of his fingers slip below the hem of your underwear, and you can quickly feel them roughly pressing against the soft mound of flesh just above your cunt.

“That little head of yours is going to get yourself in trouble,” He says, his lips pressing against the side of your neck just below your ear and feeling your blood thump with your heartbeat. It's a good thing you were in the market for trouble.

“Fuck Sev,” His gloved fingers finally slip between your folds, the rough texture teasing before he quickly removes them.

“Bite,”

He says, raising two of his fingertips to your lips. Gently you bit the fabric, helping him pull the glove off so he can shove it into one of his belt pockets with one hand. Once finished his hand quickly returns to it’s spot snug inside of your underwear, brushing across your clit as his fingers become slick before slipping inside of you.

"I missed you too..." He doesn't seem to respond to your silly little joke about his roughness, his fingers deep in your cunt as you pant.

The weather has been warming, so the evening is less a freezing nightmare and more so a cool evening, with just enough of a breeze to make your shiver. At least in normal circumstances, with Sev’s stuffy breath against your skin and his body right against yours, you feel more than warm enough- even with plastoid armor impeding.

You attempt to swallow your moans and keep quiet, even though the likelihood of anyone actually hearing you is quite slim. The music from the bar, and even more so the crowds of people, are producing an almost deafening amount of noise, not even considering the other ambient noise of the district; As well as the alleyway being tucked back between a maze of buildings.

“You’re so warm,” He growls in your ear, the deep gravel of his voice you can almost feel in your gut. It’s even deeper now, almost more so than it’s even been. At least that you remember hearing.

He hears your soft mewl as his fingers curl inside of you, the soft sounds audible even with the amount of noises from outside. Your thighs quiver just slightly before you manage to steady yourself, pushing back against him.

His hand slipping away from your cunt you can hear him fumbling with his armor, forehead leaning against the side of your head as he does so. You can feel how he has you nearly trapped against the wall, body looming over yours.

You know the moment he’s managed it, as suddenly you can feel his groin- and subsequently the outline of his cock through his bodyglove- against your ass. He groans, in both relief and ache as he feels your soft body against him. He's slow however, taking his time pressing his hips against you, lips against the corner of your mouth.

“You act all needy, and now you’re going to make me wait forever?” Sev’s grip noticeably tightens around your hips, slipping along the sides of your underwear and wrenching them down around the middle of your thighs.

“You’re really trying to test my patience, aren’t you?” Sev is a patient man, he has to be at times given his trigger discipline, but somehow you always manage to make it run thin. You turn your head over your shoulder in an attempt to look up at him.

“I thought I already did; It’s why you dragged me out here to-” Sev’s cock pressed harder against your ass, while his lips press against the corner of your mouth.

“You need to be quiet,”

He says, before pulling back and tugging at the seam of his body glove, pulling out his cock to slide against your cunt. Instantly it becomes slick against your outer lips, Sev letting out a shaky groan as he grinds between your thighs. It makes you press your body almost backwards towards him, even though you don’t have much room to move.

You can hear the strain in his voice, clearly already pent up from weeks apart. He might not say it, at least not often, but you know that's the case.

You gain a bit of room when he pulls back just far enough, though only to press his cock against your entrance and slowly sheath himself inside of you. While he isn't overly rough, he certainly isn't gentle; You're absolutely going to feel it in the morning. The feeling makes you gasp; The angle making him feel even larger, if that’s even possible.

The hem of your dress lays on the small of your back, pushed up by Sev while the front remains somewhat in place. He makes you suddenly gasp as his hips hit your ass, fully sheathed inside of you as the rough fabric of his bodyglove and sharp edges of his armor press against your exposed skin.

Even though he had just hissed at you to be quiet, he’s not exactly setting a good example.

You can hear the lewd sounds as he fucks you, as well as the grunts and groans from deep within his throat. Sometimes he swears, sometimes he has a moment where he mumbles your name against your skin, though it holds less sweetness than usual. Not to say he isn’t loving, but he’s more, animalistic.

He isn't saying those usual little mutters of incomprehensible praise, or giving soft touches, instead gripping your hips and driving into you hard enough to almost press you into the wall, borderline desperately fucking you. Your knees keep wobbling, unstable though Sev's grip is helping keep you upright. Your underwear slides farther down to your knees, upper thighs slick from how wet your are.

“I love it when you act like this,” His hips slam into yours harder, making you moan loud enough that you quickly clap a hand over your mouth for a moment.

“Rough? Fuck you with all my armor on like this? That why you kept acting like a tease?”

His teeth gently nip at your skin, hands gripping your hips hard enough to leave dents. It’s not too hard, he’s teetering right on the line. Like he knows exactly where it is, as he’s had to steer clear of it. Now that he knows you aren’t made of glass, he can step just a bit closer to it.

“Want me to put the helmet back on?”

He teases, the deep gravel of his voice you can feel directly in your cunt. Next time you’ll consider the bucket, but your little escapade is already running on borrowed time.

He’s close, you can feel the way his face is so hot against yours, and how he can barely keep an even pace; Now so less fast and hard, and more uneven but slower, and deep. He's still nowhere near gentle, fucking you for all he's worth enough to feel like your feet are going to leave the ground.

His hips stutter, slowly almost to a crawl as he grits is teeth, hearing it in your ear as he groans as he finishes inside of you. Your body feels so warm, almost overwhelmingly hot; The building the only source of cold feeling.

Slowing down you feel his one hand slip from your hip back to your front, sliding over your already battered pussy. You just need that little bit more, heart thumping against your chest and lower stomach tight and twisting in knots.

His hand presses against your clit harder, almost rough- too rough- making you gasp and bite your lip. He wants you to cum on his cock and is on a mission to do so, his teeth scraping against the heartbeat he can feel against his lips.

“Fuck, fuck Sev-”

So so close, right on the edge...

He can feel your cunt tighten around him as he finally coaxes it out of you, your knees barely able to hold yourself up even with with being pressed and held so tight by Sev. Your breath leaves a moist patch on the wall, hands scratched and sore. All of you is sore, and will be even more so tomorrow.

But you did coax it out of him, with this being the goal. So while it this was the cost, you consider it more than worth it.

“Fuck,” Sev pants, his body heavy against yours- even more so with the added weight of his armor. “We should get out of here. Before someone sees.”

The likelihood of someone coming back here, other than maybe a clone with a similar idea as you, is incredibly slim. But needless to say you still agree. You're now a disheveled mess; Your dress is wrinkled and underwear stretched, a few stitches snapped and what amount of makeup you'd been wearing is now far less clean than it had been. It still looks in place, but you can see where your eyes had almost been watering, or your lipstick smudged across your face.

And Sev's; He's sporting a little kiss mark on the corner of his mouth but you elect not to tell him about it because of how good it looks against his tan skin and stubble.

Leaning away from the wall, the way Sev had you for so long it made your feet almost numb, stinging like little pinpricks. It makes them harder to walk on, your knees wobbly and body still hot.

“Just, give me a minute.” Sev’s hand weighs gently on your hip even after you gather you bearings, looking up at him. He gently brushes a chunk of hair from your face as you fix your clothes, before he follows you. He stays close the whole time, a hand on the small of your back.

“Don’t give me that look,” He says, even as you make sure for the fifth time your clothing is totally fixed before emerging from the back alley. Once you do his hand leaves your back, but he's still staying quite close.

“What look?”

He doesn’t answer, just looking down at you with a firm set brow, while hailing a taxi with his hand.

You both squeeze inside, and you give the address back to your place. While Sev doesn’t mind the barracks as much as the average clone, he’d still much rather go back to your place than them. Especially after everything.

You could more than do for a bit of a lie down after all of that, and surely Sev will join you. You only have him till sunrise, so you'll also like to get in some nice, quiet time.

He seems all for that as well, as he wraps an arm around your shoulders.

----------------------------

It’s in the mess hall after he's returned to the base, that Scorch finally decides to pry into Sev’s absence, doing so over a tray of lukewarm soup. The subpar food isn't of any interest to Scorch, especially since gossip is on the menu, and Sev was caught by them sneaking back into the barracks far later than he should've been.

They won't tell, but it's not as if they aren't going to pester him about it.

“So…” Sev looks up, just knowing that was a warm up sound to the question he knows is going to be thrown at him.

“How’d it go with the princess?” Sev takes a bit of his own food, not even bothering to look up at his brother. He knows Scorch is referring to their abrupt absence at the bar, and that's where his intel ends.

“None of your business.”

Fixer isn’t even going to step into this minefield of a conversation, and even makes effort to avoid eye contact and thus being roped in. He continues eating his food as normal, and hoping it eventually sizzles out.

“Oh what, did you finally scare her off with your shitty attitude?” Boss gives Scorch a stern look;

‘Play nice’, as he’s starting to tread into territory that is beyond his sort of teasing jokes.

Sev seems to have the matter settled on his own, however. He gives Scorch one look that would boil anyone else’s blood, along with the cover of unwavering confidence.

“She doesn't seem to mind it.”

Scorch rolls his eyes and resists the urge to audibly gag.

“Ugh, you two were made for each other. It’s disgusting.”

[total-drama-brainrot]

Saw this somewhere and wanted to throw it your way, sorry if you’ve been asked this before but what do you think of the concept of Noah always having been an assistant (even before the first season)/never playing as a contestant would look like?

The thing about Noah as a contestant is that he's, for all intents and purposes, kind of useless. And by that I mean Noah as a character isn't important to the plot at all in the grand scheme of things. He's barely important from an episodic point of view either; Noah does very little throughout Total Drama in terms of story relevance, and just in general. (Lazy king 👑.)

So taking him out of the equation wouldn't really affect too much in the grand scheme of things, save for probably preventing his friendship with Owen and, from a fanon standpoint, the rest of team E-scope. He'd be pretty much the same person, just behind the camera instead of on it.

But that's kind of a boring answer, and not at all what you were looking for, right?

So, let's say that Noah lands himself a job working as the personal assistant for some hot-shot A-list celebrity through one of his many siblings' various contacts; is it nepotism? Probably. But who's Noah to look a gift horse in the mouth? A fairly easy job following some pretentious asshole around all day and grabbing him the occasional coffee sounds like a pretty sweet gig, especially with the salary and various benefits that come with the job description. So Noah takes the job without question.

And that's how he finds himself stuck in the middle of nowhere, Muskoka, on an undisclosed island owned by said A-lister whilst he films the first season of his new Reality TV show, Total Drama Island.

Being Chris' personal assistant was supposed to be an easy pay check. "Supposed to be" being the point of interest there; Noah didn't anticipate Chris being as sadistic or as childishly needy as he was. If he wasn't running around like a headless chicken trying to accommodate for Chris' oftentimes outlandish whims and fancies, he was stuck answering to the producers in the host's stead- and the producers were pissed with Chris more often than not for his frivolous use of the show's budget. Something about having a genius level IQ and enough snark to make grown men cry apparently made him qualified enough to deal with the industry big-wigs. Noah was far too overworked to question it.

So much for an easy pay check.

Noah's not bad at his job by any means. In his professional opinion, the whole show and Chris' career would be in the dumps without his personal input keeping everything afloat. That doesn't mean he doesn't loathe his job with every sleep-deprived inch of his being.

And, inevitably, Noah ends up spending a lot of time around the campers themselves. Mostly as a consequence of always having to remain "on set" so to speak, since Noah's pretty much contractually obligated to linger around Chris' vicinity and wait for his boss to assign him some menial task to do. Most of the campers are just as egocentric and insufferable as he'd first assumed- and honestly, what else would he expect from people who singed up for a Reality TV show?- but a select few turn out to be decent company; namely Owen and Eva (and Izzy, but Noah refuses to admit that the "Psycho Hose Beast" is actually bearable to be around).

He'd even go so far as to claim they were friends good acquaintances.

Of course, his job takes precedent over frivolous things like relationships, platonic or otherwise, so Noah doesn't exactly have the free time to hang out with them. Which is probably for the best considering if he did spend a lot of time around his friends acquaintances, the other contestants would have a solid enough foundation for accusations of foul play in the competition, and that's a headache Noah really doesn't want to deal with.

Consequently, Noah floats through the filming of Island, and later on Action, maintaining cordiality with his little group and cold indifference towards pretty much the rest of the cast. Not that he doesn't keep close tabs on the campers; of course he does, not only is Noah incredibly observant by nature, but he's also the one in charge of accommodating for these weirdos... plus, Chris is oddly invested in his "prize cast of ratings jewels", whatever that means. So Noah knows these people, probably more than some of them know themselves, thanks to a combined sixteen-ish weeks of observation and forced proximity.

In turn, the competitors know of Noah, though for the most part he's regarded as little more than a spectre on set- Chris' elusive personal assistant who the cast will occasionally see the barest glimpse of, usually hidden behind an impassive pair of mirrored sunglasses and, more often than not, rushing off to do whatever it is a PA does. Chris does get a little lazy in Action and on a few occasions does get Noah to make a "guest appearances" on screen- mostly just to deliver him a coffee and a gluten free muffin during the downtime of that day's challenge- but he's still practically non-existent to he majority of the cast.

Which is fine by him.

What isn't fine by him is the surprise addition of two people he knows nothing about, come the third season.

One of those contestants happens to know a lot about the cast, and a concerning amount of information about him. It's uncanny, just how much Sierra seems to know about everyone around her, even more so because of the way she practically worships the ground they walk on. Sure, Noah's encountered the odd super fan here and there- not fans of himself, of course, but in this time as Chris' assistant he's had to chase off more than enough rabid fans from trying to sneak their way onto the set of whatever show Chris was working on (or more accurately sic the on-scene security on them)- but Sierra's brand of crazy takes it to a whole new level. Noah doesn't like her on principle and is both incredibly vindicated and incredibly concerned when her stalkerish behaviour rears its ugly head. Not that he's allowed to do anything about it; the producers are adamant that Sierra's outlandish behaviour is entertaining enough for the audience to ignore the immorality, and given how much Chris has been allowed to get away with in the past Noah's inclined to begrudgingly agree.

And the other new contestant? The one who qualified for the apparently non-existent Total Drama Dirtbags (and Noah totally isn't salty about that show being an elaborate ruse that he spent countless sleepless nights working on)? Noah's just as concerned about his friends acquaintances ignorance to Alejandro's inherent sliminess as he is about Sierra's blatant disregard for others' privacy, but again it's not like he can do anything about it. He's not even supposed to be on the show, so any sort of interference would be a big no-no.

Oh, what's that? They want him on the show?

Fuck.

Turns out, Noah's brief appearances during Action (characterised by his usual level of sass and snide comments) really resonated with their audience; they like him for some inexplicable reason, and want to see more of "Noah, Chris McLean's mysterious personal assistant".

So he's pretty much forced into acting as a co-host of sorts, much like Chef had done for the first two seasons, all whilst carrying out his usual tasks. Is he happy about this? Not a chance in hell, and he lets the producers know exactly how he feels about the sudden change in his contract. Not that it changes anything.

And the best part? World Tour is a musical themed season. If they expect him to sing, they've got another thing coming.

But, as a small part of him chimes in, spending more time on camera would give Noah plenty of opportunities to spend time with his friends acquaintances. There's a non-zero chance that he could have fun, even if it's at the expense of his valued privacy.

His new status as part of the show does allow Noah some opportunities to skew the competition in the favour of his friends acquaint- no, screw it, his friends. That's one silver lining of the whole situation.

Better yet, he can tilt things out of Alejandro's favour, since the former Dirtbag seems to have a knack for manipulating the competition anyway- Noah might as well make things more challenging for him, as it seems this game is too easy for him thus far.

[sarnai4]

Teamwork

This is going to sound a little odd given how some of my previous posts mentioned Viggo being very dismissive of Dagur...BUT I'm going to throw this idea out there. Imagine Viggo and Dagur as actual business partners/crime buddies. (Spoilers ahead)

Now, just hear me out. They are extremely different, yes, but I think their strengths balance the other's weaknesses. Let's consider Viggo. His biggest flaw is what I like to somewhat affectionately call his Viggo ego. The man is cocky to a new level. He couldn't even imagine someone betraying him, not him because he's the genius Viggo Grimborn. He can tell Dagur to follow orders and that he's dumb and he'll do nothing. Oops, okay, he did something. Viggo can ridicule his brother time and time again and Ryker will obviously do nothing to him because who can, right? Well, Ryker apparently can turn on him. Hmm, weird. Okay, for real this time, no one else can try to touch him. Dang it, Krogan and Johann! Just had to try to kill the guy. Don't you know that no one can go against Viggo? He's amazing. Well, that's the thing, he is, but he's so aware of that fact that he sets himself up for failure by not even considering real dangers as threats. It's really Viggo's only weak area. Besides that, he's incredibly strategic, level-headed, cool, charismatic, etc. He just needs to balance out that arrogance of his. I think Dagur could help him with this.

Despite Dagur definitely being a cocky guy too, he's nowhere near Viggo's level. To put it in perspective, the guy didn't even fight back after getting choked out because he didn't want to mess up his plan. He never said anything when the Grimborns mocked him and he also let Alvin think he was in charge back in DoB. This is the type of influence Viggo needs in his life. If he's willing to listen, Dagur could help open his eyes to the people around him and how they aren't all on his side. Honestly, once Viggo doesn't have to worry about his "allies" trying to kill or betray him, he's pretty much good. That removes about 70% of his problems. Even just in the two interacting, Dagur could probably help Viggo gain some humility and learn to not underestimate people. It would be difficult for the crime boss to accept that someone like Dagur is actually smart, so it would be an important first step for him to take. Afterwards, he could probably start opening his mind more to different forms of intelligence and not just assuming, "I'm better than you and you'll never stand a chance against me," when meeting someone.

Considering Dagur, I think his biggest weakness is his temper. No, not his mind. That's not fair and honestly not true. Him being deranged has led to him being unpredictable, a valuable trait when going up against people. He's also still very capable, so it's never held him back. His temper on the other hand. Woo. Yeah, that causes some issues. He gets angry over tiny things and just cannot function anymore. Dagur, if you stayed calm, you probably would've expected the tail to the face when Heather and the Riders left. Probably would've also not retreated in fury when the A Team showed up. This is how he had his first real loss against Hiccup back when they were kids because he was so angry at the provocation that he didn't pay attention and took him on with the Skrill, electrocuting himself. He had the advantage before that because of the numbers, but he reacted too hastily. Just have to get that temper under control.

Viggo is so calm and reasonable that I could see him helping with this. Even in times when he's lost, he can respect a game well played. There are times when he's lost his temper, but it's very rare and he generally keeps a cool head. Now, he'd need to not be condescending towards Dagur since that would make it worse, but I think he could be beneficial. Viggo getting through to Dagur, finding out why he actually gets so furious about things and helping him calm down/think things through when he's in one of those states would really help him out.

So, this friendship would definitely take time to work. It also might take some situations where they're forced to rely on each other first, but I think there's potential. Unfortunately, this would ultimately be to the detriment of the world because a Viggo who doesn't underestimate his foes and a Dagur who doesn't let his anger get the better of him are a deadly duo.

[yanderefarm]

I have a question, whatre your thoughts in stolas goetia from helluva boss? And are you willing to write him? it's alright if not considering I only saw hazbin but I wanted to ask as a just in case. Especially since so many people tend to baby the demon prince, i thought it would be interesting to see him with yandere/darker tendencies befitting his status

tbh when i wrote my list of characters I didn't add him because I couldn't really imagine him with anyone but blitz so i felt it would be weird to write for him. but my opinion has definitely changed since then i think id be pretty open to writing for him.

i think he'd make such a good yandere. in my opinion one of stolas's biggest flaws that holds him back from having a healthy relationship is his idealistic view of love. all he's ever had was romance novels and soap operas to teach him what love is so he comes at relationships with the expectation that it'll be a fairytale where someone will sweep him off his feet with big gestures. that kind of delusion could so easily be stretched out into yandere.

all stolas needs is you showing him some basic kindness, he's been trapped in a draining loveless marriage for so long. once he has his eyes on you his delusions start to work overtime. he spends all day fantasizing about you as the male heroes in his novels, you're the only thing that can give him peace. whenever he sees you around it convinces him more and more that you're just as in love with him. but this time stolas won't just settle for an affair. in canon he's against using love potion but if you reject him too much he's likely to snap. you have to be his fairytale prince, you have to save him. he'd be obsessively buying potions to make sure you were always exactly like he wanted.