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sashi-ya · 3 years

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Ch. 4 ~ NSFW ~ Trafalgar Law x F! Maid! Reader ~ A Dangerous Attraction.

AU : Mafia AU. Mafia boss Law. He IS a murderer.

TW: BLOOD. Mafia & murderers. Graphic depictions of violence. Smut. Explicit. Making love. Vaginal sex. Impregnation. Self harm. Marks, bites. Mental health issues. Trauma. Fluff. Angst.

WC: 4.2K

Chapters: one ; two; three; four; five; final

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33273136

Tag list: @rivvd-art ; @chocokaylarobin ; @fantasyfairysworld ♥

“Law!!”

“Name-ya…”

Inked fingers squeezing around your wrist, your body hanging into the void. You try to climb, but little rocks fall every time you try to use your feet to push yourself up. The desperation and Law is simply not moving, he is just holding you. If he wanted, he could let go of you and you would fall instantly. If he wanted, he could kill you and no one would know. If he wanted…

“Law! Pull me up!” you shout, with tears in your eyes. He is not listening; Law is completely frozen. His eyes opened wide; he doesn’t blink. He doesn’t breathe. His jaw muscles are clenched. Your arm hurts, the only thing that is keeping you alive is Law grabbing you.

“Law don’t let me fall. Save me…” you beg with tears sprouting from your eyes. “LAW!!!” you shout. The time passes so slowly, so painfully scary.

Suddenly he blinks quickly and pushes you up. Your body falls over his, you are safe now. Law hugs you; he starts crying. Your head rests over his chest, but quickly try to release yourself from his arms. “Let me go!” you shout, in distress.

Law stops hugging you and you stand up, trembling, still crying. You take your hand to your wrist, massaging the fingertips marks he has left over your skin. “I’m… you don’t understand. I didn’t…” he tries to tell you, but he fails as he stutters nervously.

“I wanna go home. My home” you tell him and start walking back through the path. You almost run; you can feel him walking behind you. Law is sobbing, he can’t stop crying. You hear some scratching noises, but you decide not to look back. If you dared to even look at him, you’ll pity him and forgive what just happened.

But something stops you, you hear a loud noise and a whining. A painful whining. You turn around, and there is Law, kneeling on the ground, right arm bleeding from the scratches he has made on himself, swollen eyes from all the crying. He keeps violently scratching his skin, and he can’t stop.

“What the hell?!” you shout and run to him. You crunch next to him and grab his arm, “Stop doing that. You are hurting yourself”. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it…” he says repeatedly. “Stop, please. You are bleeding” you tell him, holding his arm. He puts his forehead over your chest imploring forgiveness. Your shirt gets damp by his tears. A mafia boss crying like this, so weak…

“Why didn’t you pull me up instantly, Law?” you ask all of a sudden. You know that whatever he says won’t stop you from running away from him, but that question escapes your mouth unintentionally. “I… I’m… my dad. My uncle…” he stutters. “What happened?” you ask. “My uncle… killed my dad. Doflamingo pushed him by the same hill. I was in the car looking at everything. My uncle said my dad slipped away because he was clumsy, but he didn’t. He pushed him. And I saw everything. And didn’t say anything, I was afraid. My… dad…I was seven”. And suddenly everything makes sense… he was facing his trauma, but he never let you fall. He saved you… once again.

You hug him so close, poor thing. You caress his black hair, rocking him back and forth. “It’s ok, it’s ok…” you repeat. A few minutes after he stops crying, “I’m sorry” he says, nuzzled on your chest.

“It’s ok, Law…”

But you can’t take this anymore. You are going to end up dying if you stay next to him. You definitely are.

Both walk back to the cabin, you start packing your stuff leaving only the maid costume over the big, still undone, bed. Sitting on the mattress you take out the photo of your family and look at it. In the photo you see your sisters, your mom and you in your father’s arms. It’s your birthday. Behind, a tall man running with a little boy wearing a white hat. You don’t really remember their faces. You only remember that man was your father’s partner. Both policemen. They were fighting against organised crime. After your dad was shot, you never hear anything else from his partner, nor the little kid. But you keep focusing on your family, and those happy times. You were smiling so joyfully, so naive…

You hear the surgeon at the door, and quickly put the photo on your pocket. There is no way you let a mafia boss see the face of your family members. It’s just too risky...

“You sure you don’t want to stay?” asks Law, now with a white bandage around his scratched arm. “I am sure, please take me back to my apartment” you tell him. “(Name)-ya, please, stay at my house. I promise I won’t talk to you” he says, tears building up in his eyes. But you remain strong. “Please…I need time to be on my own” you tell him as if you were begging him to stop insisting. You don’t know how much you are gonna go without succumbing to the dangerous attraction he represents to you.

“At least let me keep you safe, I won’t visit you, I won’t call you. But please, stay in one of my apartments. I beg you” he finally says, approaching you. You back up instantly, somehow him touching you, scares you.

“Fine” you finally accept. He is right, if you dare to come back to that apartment you might be in danger. Law eyes sparkle, he breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you, thank you so much” he says, approaching you once again as he was trying to hug you.

“Stop. Don’t touch me” you command. He freezes right away, the smile in his face is gone once again. “I’m sorry, I’ll be in the car waiting for you” he says, crestfallen and walks away. Your heart aches at him leaving the door, but you know too well this is the best decision you could have taken.

Once everything is set, and you are ready, you go downstairs. You give a last peek to the cabin, the place where Law and you let your passions go wild for the first time… a place where he almost chokes you to death… Closing the door behind you, you were sure this was the last time you would ever be in this place.

Opening the door of that amazing black car, you throw your bag on the backseat and sit next to Law. He is wearing black shades, tears falling through his cheeks. He is not speaking; he swallows and hits the gas. You don’t dare to look at him, so your head is turned towards the window. The magnificent forest, nature, a place where you’ve been the happiest… and the sudden memories of you almost losing your life for the second time…

No more than an hour passes, and you are already on the highway. The radio makes the painful silence a little less uncomfortable. A slowed cover of “We Found Love” by Rihanna playing.

“As your shadow crosses mine, what it takes to come alive.

It's the way I'm feeling I just can't deny. But I've gotta let it go.

We found love in a hopeless place…

Shine a light through an open door. Love and life I will divide.

Turn away 'cause I need you more”

“Tsk…” you express. “Hum?” he asks. “Nothing…”. There was no interaction, nothing. Law’s cheeks damped. Nose red from all the crying.

“(Name)-ya… would you prefer the 6th or the 8th floor?” he asks, sniffling. “Whatever you want, it’s ok for me either way” you tell him, feeling ashamed. You are leaving him, but still living on his property… this shouldn’t happen. “Ok… Then the 8th floor. It has a big terrace” he tells you and touches the screen of the car.

“Bepo, Law here”

“Law, I’m Pen. Tell me”

“Oh, Penguin. Please take all the (Name)-ya’s stuff to Swallow inns, the eighth floor”.

“Yes, boss. Are you ok? You need us to take some of your stuff too?”

“Just hers… oh, don’t forget the Kia”

Law hangs up before his friend could say anything else. His voice clearly shows how much he’s been crying; he knows his friend would ask. You simply ignore everything he says, you don’t really want to hear even though he is speaking via Bluetooth.

After two hours, you arrive at a luxurious apartment complex over the beach. A big sign that says “Swallow Inn” announces that this is the place you are gonna be living from now on. “Damn” you think, how the fuck your life changed so much that you ended up living in such a place…

“(Name)-ya, this is the place where the apartment is located. Our… your parking spot is the number 18” he informs you. “Uhm, ok…” you say, because you don’t even have a bicycle to park in there, but hey, thanks for the information. But, when you arrive at the said parking spot, a little black car is parked there. “Nice, someone parked on your spot” you say, sarcastically.

“It’s yours…” he says. “What? No” you categorically express. “Please, accept it. This place is far from the city, and there are no bus stops nearby. Please” he insists. “Ok…” you accept, even though you are sure you are not gonna use that car.

Law takes your stuff from the backseat and tells you to follow him inside. The place is modern, everything is clean, luxurious, white, pure. “Eighth floor” he says and presses the little 8th button of the elevator and a code. “Remember, you should enter this number so you can enter home, ok?”. You don’t speak, and just nod.

The doors open inside the apartment, again everything is so white and pure. Your stuff is already in place. Big windows show the immense sea ahead. Everything is perfect, so for rich people. “Law, this place is amazing. You sure you want me to live here?” you ask.

Law turns around, takes his sunglasses off. Swollen red eyes, more dark circles than ever. He fixes his grey irises on yours. “I’d rather you live with me. But this is the best second option I have to keep you safe”. You keep looking at him, you can’t take your eyes off him. It hurts so much, even more than the bruises on your wrist, on your neck… your heart shouts “stay with me”; but your head says no… no, or you are gonna end up dying.

“By the way, this is your phone. I recommend you use this one, it’s safer. Not for me, but for you” he says, lending you a mobile phone that’s over the breakfast nook. “Thanks” you nod and your fingers graze when gabbing the phone. How hard is this…

“Well, I know you want me to go, but, if you ever need me… just, call me. Ok?” says Law, taking his hand to your cheek, but quickly stopping himself. “Wait” you say and grab his hand to your face. He gasps but grazes your skin. You close your eyes and let your head rest over his palm for a moment.

“Thank you, Law… Give me some time, please” you whisper. “I’ll be waiting for you…” he says, and a few moments later he is gone. The elevator doors close, and your legs finally turn weak. You fall on your knees. You haven’t cried until now, and now you do. Tears won’t stop falling from your eyes to the marbled floor.

“Law…”

----

After all your tears have dry, you start looking around the apartment. Your bedroom is bigger than your ex-house. The bed looks just as the one Law has in his room. Satin sheets and white fluffy covers.

A wardrobe full of your clothes, old and some new outfits they bought you from the finest brands. And next to your clothes, men's ones. “Are these Law’s?”.

You can’t help but take one of his t shirts. You choose a yellow one, with black sleeves. “It has his smell…” you say, while taking the cloth to your nose. “I don’t think he would mind if I use it…” you say and put the shirt on. It has some kind of a smiley face stamped on it, and you wonder what it means.

The night comes, and your stomach growls. The fridge is full of ingredients, Law’s subordinates are so efficient. You cook a vegetable wok that you devour right away. The place is way too big for you, but it is what it is.

You inspect the new phone he gave you, such modern and pretty. You decide to pass all your photos from your old one to it. Same as the numbers. “I should call mum…” you think, remembering about the money. Where are you going to find any money to send them? “I can’t go back to the old bar; I’ll search for work tomorrow”.

“Hi, mum?”

“Darling!! I’ve been calling you, but you don’t seem to pick up. Is everything alright? Why are you calling from a private number?”

“It’s my new phone, I don’t know how to take it off. I will ask a friend to help me, and I’ll send you my number mum. Don’t worry” you lie. “How are you? How are the girls?

“Fine baby, but are you alright? You sound so sad…”

“I’m fine mum!! I moved! I will send you the address via text, ok? You should come someday! I have a sea view now!!” You act all excited, just for her not to worry, but moms know better…

“If you need mum, come spend some days with us darling. Ok?”

“Yes mum, I’m ok. I’ll be visiting you soon!” You lie once again, choking back tears.

The conversation is soon over, and after hanging up, tears run free. “I hate lying to my mum. Damn it. Damn Law…” you grunt, while searching for the picture of your family on your pocket.

“Where the fuck…?” You say, while searching for it desperately in your jean’s pockets. No sign of the photo, and you start to panic. The last photo you have with your dad, your seventh birthday…

“Don’t tell me I lost it, please!!!” You shout and start to look for it everywhere. Every place, every square. You can’t stop crying. You just can’t… something so precious to you.

“That’s what happens when you hang with the mafia… karma” you tell yourself before falling asleep, crying.

You wake up several times during the night, as nightmares invade your dreams. Law’s scratched arms, his eyes, the feeling of falling into the void. The day the police came to your house to tell your family, someone killed your dad. The way Law choked you… the way his hands were around your neck, the way his hips moved in and out of you, the way his kisses make you feel…

“Stop right there, (Name)” you say to yourself looking at the ceiling. How can you feel horny, huh? Are you crazy? “What’s wrong with me…?”. You know what’s wrong, of course you do. You are in love with Law and can’t deny it anymore. Your body misses him, you miss his scent, you are using his damn shirt to bed. You miss him so much; you are hugging a pillow pretending it is him.

Standing up from bed, you look through the big window of your room. The sea seems calm, sun is peeking from the horizon, still lazily resting until dawn. You sigh and say, “I fucking miss you… why aren’t you here?”.

Ding, Dong…

The sophisticated sound of the doorbell resonates all over the loft. “Fuck” you think, they’ve found you… Am I in danger? Should I call Law? Bepo? You tremble and walk towards the intercom.

Ding, Dong…

“Fuck” … you slowly pick up the phone of the intercom, and the little screen next to it turns on. The image of Law, a distressed Law appears. “What the fuck? I told him to give me some space…” you think, but he signs desperately for you to open.

“Law, what are you doing here?” You ask via the phone.

“Open, please, I have something important to show and tell you, I didn’t want to enter with my code” he says and shows a little square paper. Your most precious treasure, your family photo. You widen your eyes, “enter the code, come on”.

A minute passes and the door of the inside elevator opens. Law is standing right there; he looks like a mess. This must be the third night he hasn’t slept.

“Can I?” He asks for permission to even step into your -his- apartment. “Come in. Do you have my pic?” You ask ignoring the fact of wearing his shirt and only that over your body.

“Yes, but… I need to show you something about it” Law says, while looking at you up and down with a sweet expression. “Let’s sit, this is important” he insists. So, both of you sit on the couch. Law takes your photo out of his jacket pocket and puts it over the coffee table. “This is your photo, right?” He asks. “Yes, thank you!! Where was it?” You tell, but before you could take it, he stops your arm. “Wait… it was over the car seat. But, please, look at this…” he says and puts another photo next to it.

“L-Law…”

“I didn’t know, I promise”

“It can’t be, was your dad…?

“Yes, it was” …

Both of you start crying, recognizing how linked both of you are…

Law takes his finger to your cheek, wiping a single tear. You do the same, wiping the tears from his cheeks. “I’m so sorry…” he whispers. “Don’t…” you tell him, and you two hug. Pressing your bodies, you find the comfort, the warmth of home. That feeling you only experience when you know you are safe…

Your faces so close, your eyes fixed. The sun slowly rising, invading the place with lilac and orangey tones. Law is fighting not to kiss you, and you frankly too.

“Fuck it” you whisper and plant a sweet kiss over his lips. And that’s the spark you two needed to become fire. You set all your zipper free, no more clothes. You sit over his lap, both kissing so passionately, tongues playing with each other’s. Law cries, you cry. But you two smile pressing your foreheads.

You see how the scratches on his arm became scars already. You grab his arm and kiss softly over each wound. “Don’t do this ever again, please. If you have the need, talk to me, tell me, I’ll be there to help you…” you tell him, looking straight into his soul. Poor thing…

“I missed you” he says. “I missed you, too” you tell him. Even if you haven’t seen each other for some hours, your souls missed each other so much. You kiss him so relieved… your head keeps telling you stop, until the arousal drowns every single sign of reason.

Law gabs your thighs and stands up, carrying you to the bed. He softly puts you over the mattress, and he settles over your body. Gently kissing your neck, Law takes his time. His hands grazing your breasts so softly. “I want to make sweet love to you, I want to be gentle, I want it slow” he says, because he doesn’t want to hurt you. You smile and take your hands to his face. “Do it slow and do it faster. Do it gentle, and do it rough…make love to me, Law” you tell him.

His “death” hands travel from your neck to your waist, and even lower. His fingers buried on your hips as his mouth reaches your sex. “Spread, babe” he asks with a soft tone. You do it right away. “Good girl, now put your legs over my shoulders”. And so, you do.

Law’s mouth attacks your core, licking, tasting, devouring your juices. He little by little kneels on the bed, pushing you up. Your legs are still over his shoulders, he has better access to your core as he keeps giving you the best oral sex you ever experienced. You grab the sheets, pull from them, as your climax begins to arrive. Law presses your lower belly, while he sucks your clit. “Come on, come for me” he says, muzzled by your anatomy.

You are about to burst, and Law penetrates you with his middle finger and ring finger. The licking, the pressure, the fingering… you come, squirting, bathing his whole torso with your juices, as they come out with such pressure Law is not able to receive it all with his mouth.

“Such a good girl” he says, letting your legs over the mattress. You are panting, that position somehow made everything better… “L-Law…?” you mumble, still trembling from the orgasm you just had.

“What, baby?” He asks while wiping the rest of your climax off his chin with the back of his hand. “Don’t you ever stop fucking me like this” you tell him, so naturally, so unplanned.

“I won't, I won't ever stop”.

Law lays in bed, next to him, enjoying how you come back to normal, and the blushed on your cheeks that screams how good your orgasm felt. But he wants more, and of course, you too.

“Come here” he says and helps you to turn around. He is spooning you; you feel his hard member over your glutes. Law passes his right arm under your neck, and the left one reaches your left nipple. He pinches it, twists it. Law takes his index to your mouth and makes you suck it. “Wet it real good” he commands. Your teeth graze the E tattooed on his finger while sucking it so sexily.

The same finger, shiny from your saliva, is now tracing circles again over your nipple. You moan, it feels so good. He gropes you with his dick, your back feels the warmth of his inked chest. You push your ass against his member, trapping it in between both cheeks. Law grunts, and moves up and down, frotting his hard shaft over your rear entrance.

Your hand reaches for the surgeon’s hip. You carve your nails on his skin, pulling you even closer to you.

“Fuck me, fuck me now”. “If that’s what you want…” he says, while he bites your neck. The hand that was playing with your nipple now grabs his dick. He aligns it with your entrance, lubricating the tip with your dripping arousal. He slaps the shaft against your labia, forming strings of precum mixed with your juices.

His gland playfully hits your clit, and you squirm with it. But you burn with the need of being penetrated, filled by him. “I want you inside, please” you beg. “You want me inside? How much do you want it?” Law says pressing his mouth against your cheek, his beard grazing your skin. “Fill me up, I want it so bad. Fuck me, now…” you whine.

“Ok, my darling. Just because my shirt suits you so well” he says and kissing the side of your mouth he penetrates you so slow, little by little stretching your walls. The feeling of the tip going in and out, without fully penetrating you deep, sends you to heaven as it grazes your g spot. You can only whine his name, feeling as he gradually goes deeper, in and out.

You can feel Law’s wicked smile over your cheek as he finally penetrates you to the deepest point he can reach. Your walls clench around his member as he speeds up the pace. “Babe, you feel so good, so tight” he moans in your ear. The sound of his voice could kill you if it was meant for it.

You moan soundly, sure the neighbours could hear you, but unable to hold back as Law is now fucking you mercilessly. Soon the climax road is taken, and you are sure getting to it.

“I want to see your face while you come” Law says, and quickly turns you around. Classic missionary position, the most perfect man over you, his whole anatomy, sweating, panting.

Law puts your arms up your head, grabbing your wrists together. His body lean over you while he pounds into you, violent, deliciously thrusts. The way the muscles of his torso tightens when his hips move in and out are art, the finest piece of art you have ever seen.

And inevitably, both of you reach orgasms. This time, Law focused on your face, he didn’t bite his lip, he didn’t choke you, he didn’t lose track of reality. Law this time was being driven by love, by the only need of loving you, of making you happy… of not losing you.

You come, and so does he. Law fills you with his creamy seed. He collapses over you, still with his dick inside you, pushing his milk deep in you. Returning his breathing back to normal, he whispers into your ear “I think I’m still in love with you”.

“Still? What do you mean?” You ask, confused...

CH.5

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monsterfucker-mcgee · 3 years

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I love to be the bearer of horny news

I uuhhh wrote a quick lil’ something for Karl Heisenberg and a female reader??

Warnings: Extremely dubious consent / borderline non-con due to drugs, oops :’)))

Can also be found on my AO3, TheWeirdDane, under the name, “Into the Maw of the Wolf”.

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

Being a full-time prisoner was not how you had expected to spend your twenties, less so being a prisoner to Lord Karl Heisenberg of the village. He wasn’t necessarily a bad captor, but you preferred your freedom, like so many others.

He seemed to rarely shower, his grey-black hair always appearing greasy and his barely-more-than-stubble beard always scratched your face when he leaned in to sniff you. Yet, even so close, he didn’t reek, didn’t smell foul. In fact, he barely had any scent whatsoever, save for that of the cigars he always smoked.

“How are you today, my little thing?” came his powerful voice, slithering through the darkness outside the small cell. A warning, some might say, but you were generally well-behaved and had never made an escape attempt.

That was, until now.

You had no idea about the layout of the place he kept you.

Making a break for it could prove successful - or it could prove fatal.

“I’m fine. Not really much to do here,” you replied and did your best to keep calm.

Karl laughed and entered the cell, having to bend forward slightly to fit through the door. In his hands he carried a tray with a plate and a glass. On the plate was some bread - was that mould on the crust? - and in the glass, a clear liquid that was hopefully just plain water.

Upon seeing the glass, you realized how thirsty you were, and Karl had barely sat the tray on the small ‘table’, which was really just a few slabs of rock piled on top of each other, before you reached for it and gulped down the liquid.

It stung all the way down your throat, but you only noticed this when you had emptied the glass, and your eyes widened. You looked up at Karl who grinned menacingly and squatted down in front of you.

“You really shouldn’t drink that quickly, or you’ll feel sick.”

“What... what did you give me?” you whispered and released the glass, letting it fall to the ground where it shattered into a million pieces.

He hummed and leaned in to sniff your cheek and temple, his stubble scratching your skin. He inhaled deeply deeply through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, a pleased sound leaving him.

“Sit down, my dear,” he murmured, but when you didn’t obey him, he shoved you back, and you stumbled over a couple of rocks that eventually made your ass connect with the ground. You hissed in pain.

“I said, sit, thank you.”

Scowling at the man, you noticed how your vision began spinning. Slow at first, but the longer you waited, the faster and harder the world spun. You reached out to put a hand on the wall for support, despite already sitting down, and you breathed faster.

Karl moved close and put a hand on your cheek. As if you were a puppy wanting to receive pets, you leaned your head into his hand, and he snorted.

“What did... what did you give me?” you asked quietly, words already somewhat slurred.

“Nothing long-lasting, I promise.”

“Fuck... fuck you,” you whispered and pushed at his chest. He didn’t budge, but merely laughed, and then he pushed you. Like a drunk, you fell on your back, and Karl was over you in a second.

His hair fell around his face like heavy, grey-black curtains as he straddled your waist, and his gloved hands wandered your chest. They squeezed your breasts, and he tilted his head at the quiet gasp that left you.

“So soft,” he hummed and squeezed tighter, tighter, tighter, until you whined in pain, and he stopped. “And so responsive, too. You’ll feel so good, I bet,” he continued, his voice a low, quiet rumble. “In fact, why don’t you undress for me, sweetheart?”

You weren’t stupid - despite being drugged, you knew what he was up to.

Slowly, you shook your head and tried to buck him off, but he was heavier and stronger than you and effortlessly kept you in place. He even chuckled at your pathetic attempt of getting free.

“No? Do I really have to do all the work around here?” he sighed dramatically and grabbed the hem of your dirty shirt that was long enough to act as a dress, and tore.

The shirt was torn in two so easily that even you could have done it. It was old, worn, and filthy, but it was the only clothes you had down here, and feeling it rip and fall away made you gasp and shudder. You wanted to cover yourself, but Karl squeezed your arms close against your body with his legs, so that would take power you didn’t have.

He looked down at you, his glasses hiding his eyes and the brim of his hat nearly hiding his face.

“A man... removes his hat when... a lady is present,” you mumbled and blinked rapidly in an attempt to get the world back into focus. It was futile.

“Indeed he does, but I see no lady,” he practically growled. “Just a pretty, little play-thing.”

His hands moved from your breasts up over your chest and collarbones and finished their journey upon finding your throat. They stroked gently, almost fondly, and you felt your skin begin to perspire.

Your skin started feeling too tight for your body, or perhaps like your bones grew too big for your skin, and you were desperate to scratch and whine, but your arms were still locked firmly against your sides.

At least you could still whine out your discomfort.

“Now now, I know it might be unpleasant, but shh, wait, my dear, give it time to work.”

His hands, gloved but warm, stayed on your throat and caressed the flesh until the discomfort began dissipating and your body filled with warmth. Gradually, you relaxed and became pliant, even to the point where you didn’t try to push him away when he tryingly moved one leg, freeing your arm.

“There’s a good girl,” he practically purred. “Now, sit up for me so we can get this dirty shirt off.”

Your body felt like you had been fed lead, and you struggled to sit up. Whether he was impatient or genuinely wanted to help, Karl reached under you and pulled until you sat upright, and he watched as you, almost frantically, shucked out of your shirt so you were completely naked before him.

You looked up at him, lips slightly parted, and he tilted his head.

“Tsk-tsk-tsk. Did you get too much?” he mumbled and reached for your face. His fingers tipped your head back so your eyes got caught in the pathetic excuse of a light. You whined at the brightness. “I know, I know, kitten, let me take a look at you, okay?”

Your cheeks burned, but everything was spinning and swimming, and you felt so heavy you were afraid of falling backwards, so your long and slender fingers curled tightly in his dark khaki-green coat.

Karl mumbled something so quietly that it must’ve been for him only, and carefully examined your eyes, pulling your eyelids so your eyeballs were more visible.

“Damn it,” he hissed and let go of your face. He was about to pull back, but, sensing this, you were overpowered by a sense of dread, and you tugged on his coat while another whine escaped you.

“Don’t... don’t leave,” you whispered, surprised to find your voice so swirly and soft, and looked down, embarrassed at suddenly being so needy. Especially for your captor - what the hell had he drugged you with?

Karl chuckled darkly and cupped your face. Before you really knew what was happening - everything was still messed up - you felt his stubble against your lips, and then his mouth on yours. You opened your eyes wider, then slowly closed them when heat surged through you, and you clutched at his coat.

A small, almost timid moan left you, and Karl snorted softly, and his hands shifted so that only his thumbs were on your cheeks, the other fingers on your neck. It pulled a sigh from you, and you opened your eyes a sliver, finding that he was looking at you. It was hard to see in the dim light and with your impaired vision, but his pupils appeared to be dilated.

“Good girl,” he rumbled and slowly pushed you to lie on your back. You obeyed without a fuss, but when it looked like he was about to pull away, you whimpered and tugged on his coat again.

“Don’t worry, kitten, I won’t leave you,” he promised and stroked a finger from your lips, down over your chin and chest, before he shuffled back enough to spread your legs. The air fanning over your cunt was like a bucket of cold water to the face, and you gasped loudly before trying to close your legs again.

He tut-tutted at you and gave your thigh a light slap, after which he ran a finger between your folds.

The touch was firm and strong, and it sent sparks through you, making you gasp again and clench your hands into fists.

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” he rumbled, and although you couldn’t see him - you had closed your eyes to the swimming and spinning of everything - you had a feeling he was watching you. He stroked you again, pulling a whimper from you; a whimper that stretched into a shaky moan when he slipped the finger inside you and, without warning, began thrusting.

Just like the initial touch, the thrusts were firm and came quickly, and it didn’t take long before your breathing was tattered and in rags. Your hands were fists, and when he moved his finger in a particularly good way, you weakly banged them against the floor as a cry escaped you.

“Don’t be shy, pet. Down here, you can be as loud as you want,” he practically purred, and then he inserted another finger, and the thrusts increased in power and pace.

Now gasping and panting and moaning for your life, you reached a clumsy hand out to grab hold of him, and you found his arm, and you squeezed it tightly as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. They were thick and gloved, and the seams of the gloves scratched against your insides, but... it was good. It didn’t hurt like it should, instead made it feel rougher, more brutal, and, as it turned out, you were all about that.

“Please,” you whispered and craned your neck, staring back into the wall behind you, when he had to use a bit of force to shove in a third finger. “Please, don’t--- don’t stop...”

“Oh, I don’t intend to. I’ll keep going until you beg me to stop.”

“Will--- will you stop then?”

“Not a chance.”

You don’t know what had come over you that had you whining for more - it was sure to be the drug, whatever it had been. Karl Heisenberg was greasy and nasty, and if he stooped low enough to drug you, then he was anything but a pleasant man.

Yet, when he removed the belt from his pants, you couldn’t help but wonder if he would perhaps smack you with it. If he would wind it around your neck and pull until you were gasping for air. If he would tie your hands together to restrict your movement.

You couldn’t tell if it was the drug talking, or if the drug had simply eliminated the barriers that had been there, meaning you had always dreamed of those things - and frankly, that scared you.

Karl wound the belt around his hand and pulled down his pants. At the rustling of fabric, you lifted your head, eyes wide, and stared at him. He wasn’t wearing any underwear, and his cock, even though only half-hard, was huge.

“Do you like what you see?” he asked with a smug smile and took it in hand, stroking it slowly and groaning with each stroke.

You couldn’t help but nod, and before you knew of it, you sat up, and your mouth watered so much that it spilled over your lips.

“Do you mind giving me a hand? Or, heh, a mouth?” he grinned.

He didn’t wait for an answer before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you forward, pushing his cock in your face. You moaned and tried to lick him, but then he pulled you back by the hair, and although it hurt, it didn’t hurt as much as being denied licking and sucking his smelly cock.

You whined and looked up at him. He had removed his sunglasses, and as you gazed into his eyes, he grinned.

“Trust me, kitten,” he murmured and slowly pulled you forward again, smushing his cock against your cheek. A moan escaped you, and you didn’t break eye-contact as he ground himself against your face.

When he first moaned, it sent a shiver down your spine and another whine rolled out of your mouth.

“That’s it, good girl,” he growled repeatedly as his cock twitched and grew hard, and the second he was completely erect, he pulled your mouth against his cock. You didn’t waste any time in opening wide and closing around the tip of his cock.

He was widest just below the head, and only marginally more narrow by the base. Just an inch or two shy of being as wide as a closed fist, it was a struggle to take him in your mouth, but the heat in your belly and chest forced you to do your best, not to mention the hand in your hair.

You gagged, struggled, and squirmed, but he was adamant that he remained in control, and moved his hands to your face to more efficiently control the speed at which you worked.

His cock stretched your lips as wide as they could, and a bit more, it felt like, and he growled loudly as he fucked your face. He tasted bitter and salty, and now that he was exposed as well, he reeked, enough that your eyes watered - although that could be from the gagging as well - but you found that it only fueled your lust.

You realized, after a minute or two of struggling to suck him off, that your thighs were sticky with your own juices, and you whined weakly.

“Does it feel that good, pet?” he asked, his voice rough, and stroked your cheek with a thumb before slapping you. It shocked you, and your eyes widened, yet it set your loins ablaze.

You moaned feebly around his thick girth, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Do you like that? Being slapped?”

Your cheeks answered the question by heating up, almost embarrassingly so, and you didn’t need to moan or whine or whimper to indicate that yes, you did indeed like that very much.

The next slap stung, and tears welled up into your eyes. His thrusts came harder and faster, the tip of his cock pushing down into your throat and making you gag each and every time, and the tears spilled and trailed down your cheeks. He moaned and hissed, and the sounds were deliciously gruff, making you squeeze your thighs together and close your eyes tightly.

“Look at me,” he snarled, and your eyes immediately snapped open to lock on his face. “Good girl,” he then praised and stroked your cheek, and you could feel his cock twitch in your mouth and throat.

A few seconds later, and he pulled out, making you cough and breathe deeply.

“There’s a good pet,” he murmured, and the stroke of your cheek was followed by a sharp slap that rattled the teeth in your skull. You let out a soft sob, but it was out of pleasure and far from pain.

You rubbed your thighs together and breathed hard and fast, and Karl picked up on it like a bloodhound picking up on a scent.

“Lay back for me, doll,” he ordered, and oh, how wonderfully gruff and deep his voice had become!

You obeyed, of course, without making a fuss, and looked up at him as he lowered yourself onto your back. He grinned and licked his lips. Your gaze, less spinning and more normal, fluttered to his cock, glistening with pre-cum and your spit, and you whimpered upon imagining what it would feel like in your cunt.

“Please, hurry,” you whined and spread your legs in invitation. He accepted the invitation and pulled on your legs until his cock pressed against your cunt.

“Are you ready, kitten?” he asked on a growl, but didn’t wait for an answer before he slammed inside you, making you cry out and lean your head back. He groaned and grabbed your thighs to keep you in place as he fucked you.

His pace was quick and merciless, and his cock forced itself deep in you, battering against your cervix with each thrust and making you scream with pain-laced pleasure.

His stench was much greater now as it mixed with sweat, and your eyes watered again, but you couldn’t help but moan and sob in delight as Karl pounded into you, filling you so good.

“What--- what can I call you?” you asked brokenly, and felt your stomach tighten up and fill with heat, and you knew you weren’t many minutes away from reaching euphoria.

“Anything your filthy little heart desires,” he groaned and slammed inside you, faster and faster, and you had a feeling he was close, too.

“Sir,” you gasped, and uttering the word made your heart skip a beat and your cunt clench.

Karl moaned loudly and let your legs fall to the ground to instead lean down on top of you and kiss you. It was messy and sloppy, and there was saliva everywhere, yet you couldn’t remember having been happier or felt better.

“Sir!” you cried out as the knot in your stomach suddenly came undone, and euphoria washed over you while your cunt pulsed and clenched rhythmically.

Karl let out a feral growl and mercilessly fucked you through your orgasm until he, too, reached his climax and spilled inside you with a thunderous roar. As he released himself, the sounds of him slapping against you became slick and wet, and it was equal parts disgusting and delicious. You could feel his cum and your juices drip out of you in a wonderfully filthy combination.

“Sir--- please, don’t stop,” you sobbed and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him like your life depended on it. His stubble scratched you, and it was the most amazing feeling that nearly sent you into your second orgasm.

He only stopped when his cock went flaccid, and then he pulled out with a shaky groan.

Cum and juices oozed out of you, and your fingers twitched in his semi-long, grey-black hair.

When he moved away, you whined pathetically, and in return, he chuckled and planted a kiss on your stomach.

Then he got up from the ground, looped the belt back into the hoops of his pants, zipped up, and picked his sunglasses out of a pocket of his coat.

“The pleasure was all mine, little pet,” he murmured and slapped your thigh gently before moving to the cell door.

You whined again and sat up, looking up at him and only vaguely registering that your vision no longer swam or spun.

“Don’t go, please,” you whispered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it. You need lunch, too, right?” he said with a grin, winked, and exited the cell, locking it behind him and leaving you all alone, with only the rats for company.

When his footsteps receded and eventually disappeared, you curled up on yourself and tried to get some rest.

It was useless - even without the drug, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, and you couldn’t wait for him to come back.

#text #not monsterfucking #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #dirty talk #dubious consent #non-con #age difference #light dom/sub tones #reader #reader insert #female reader

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fanmoose12 · 3 years

Note

modern AU levihan as kids: Kenny babysits Levi, and doesn't let him play with any kids after school bc he thinks all kids are brats, but he approves of Hange so he lets her come over to play with Levi. And Hange always brings dandelions that she picks from the ground for Kenny, Levi, and for Levi to give Kuchel whenever she comes home late from work

"I'm going out," Levi announced, coming downstairs already dressed and with his backpack on.

From his place on a sofa, Kenny put down his beer and raised an eyebrow.

"May I ask where are you going?"

"You may not," Levi retorted, his face dark. Kenny had to admit - for a little boy, his nephew had an impressively fierce glare. Even some adults found the kid to be unnerving. Not Kenny, though.

"Oi, brat, you better tell me where you're going. Or," he smirked. "I'm going to call your mother."

At that, Levi pouted and stomped his feet. He continued to glare at Kenny for a little longer, before surrendering with an irritated 'tsk'.

"I'm going out with Hange," he said with a sulky pout. Of course, it was Hange, Kenny had no doubt that Levi was meeting with the bespectacled kid from across the street. He asked him simply to see that awkward and constipated look on his nephew's face.

"Is your curiosity satisfied? May I go already?"

"You may not," seeing Levi's wide-eyed expression, Kenny felt a deep sense of satisfaction. Teasing the kid was so much fun. "Wait for a bit, until I get my shit. We'll go together."

"What? No!" Levi protested, clutching hands into fists. "I'm going with Hange! Not with you!"

"Your mother asked me to look after you," Kenny reminded, putting on his best ‘stern adult’ expression. "So I'm going to chaperone you and Hange. I'm sure she won't mind."

"I will mind," Levi grunted stubbornly.

Kenny rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Levi, stop with that tantrum. I'll drive you two to the park, get you some ice-cream, let you have some fun."

"While you keep watching us like a creep?"

"While I keep an eye on you two to make sure you won't get into trouble."

Crossing hands on his chest, Levi considered him. "You won't let me go without you, right?"

"Levi!" Kenny slapped him on a back with a loud chuckle. "And here I thought you aren't sharp!"

It earned him another glare from his dear nephew, but then Levi sighed, accepting his defeat.

"Hurry up, old man. Hange is probably waiting for me already."

"I'll be quick as lighting," Kenny winked and dashed to get his keys and wallet.

Once he was dressed and ready to go, Levi opened the front door. Hange was standing on their porch, her arm raised to the doorbell.

"Oh." She gingerly lowered her hand to the side. "Hi, Levi. I was just going to call you."

"Sorry, it took me so long. My uncle decided to go with us and I had to wait for him."

"Mr. Ackerman is going with us?" Hange's eyes widened. "Awesome!"

"See?" Kenny walked out, patting Hange's head with a smile. "I told you Hange wouldn't object."

"Of course, I wouldn't," she smiled. "You're so cool, Mr. Ackerman!"

"That I am," Kenny grinned, looking at Levi's disgruntled expression. "But please, Hange, we've talked about this. You can just call me uncle Kenny. Mr. Ackerman sounds like I'm an old man."

"You are an old man," Levi argued, scowling.

"No respect for his elders," Kenny shook his head, feigning disappointment. "C'mon, kids, let's get into the car."

Once Hange and Levi were seated at the back of his car and once Kenny made sure that they put on their seatbelts - Kuchel would have his head, if they didn't - there was only one thing left.

"So, Hange?" Kenny met her eyes in the rear mirror. "Where do you want to go?"

"Huh?" she bit her lip. "Why don't you ask Levi?"

"You know him,” Kenny said flippantly. “He'll go wherever you want. So. Have you decided?"

"Um," Hange glanced at Levi and leaned closer, whispering something in his ear. Levi gave her a small nod, and Hange smiled broadly, showing her still missing tooth. She turned to Kenny, giving him thumbs up. "We want to go to the park, uncle Kenny!"

"Your wish is my command," he winked, starting the car.

***

"Here you go," Kenny pushed two plates of ice-creams - mint chocolate chip for Hange and lemon for Levi - towards the kids.

Hange accepted hers with a loud and genuine 'thank you' while Levi just grunted something under his breath. Instantly, children dove into their desserts.

Sitting across from them, Kenny sipped on his coffee and watched them eat. It was quite fascinating - how different they were. Levi ate slowly and carefully, wiping his face with napkin whenever ice-cream got on his face. Meanwhile, Hange noshed enthusiastically and messily, her cheeks already stained.

As soon as he saw the state she was in, Levi paused and put the spoon down. With a barely audible sigh, he took the napkin and gripped Hange's chin between his fingers, making her look at him. Then he proceeded to thoroughly wipe her dirty face, cleaning the remnants of the ice-cream from her cheeks and nose.

"You're such a clean freak," Hange muttered when Levi was finished.

"It's not my fault you're such a pig, four-eyes," he shot back, making Hange throw her head and laugh.

Kenny watched their interaction with amused expression, regretting that his sister wasn't too busy with work to witness this.

He had a feeling, however, that she saw a fair share of this back at home.

***

Kenny put the hat lower, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. It was quite boring, just sitting there, but at least Levi had calmed down a bit. After they arrived at the park, Hange had dragged him out somewhere, claiming that she wanted Levi to see a pretty butterfly she found when she had visited the park with her parents.

Kenny wanted to follow, but one glare from his nephew, and he surrendered, taking refuge at one of the benches.

He let them go, because as much as he enjoyed giving Levi shit, Kenny knew that he was smart. Careful too. He was confident that Levi wouldn't get in any trouble. Besides, the kid deserved to have some fun with his best friend. It was the reason he brought them there in the first place.

He wished the kids would come back sooner, though. The heat and bright sun were making him quite drowsy.

Kenny looked around the park, and when he noticed that there was no sign of his nephew or his friend, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting them rest for a short moment.

***

"Uncle Kenny! Uncle Kenny! Look what I've made!"

"Oi, old man, wake up," Kenny felt a sharp poke into his side and groaned, waving his hand to get rid of the source of pain.

"Wake up." Levi repeated, poking him again. "Hange wants to show you something." That was followed by another pock.

"Stop it," Kenny hissed. "I woke up, woke up! Just stop pocking me!"

He opened his eyes and was greeted with the too familiar scene - his nephew, glaring at him with all the fierceness a six-year old boy could master. Once he took a good look at him, however, Kenny had to rub his eyes, because he could not believe it.

His gloomy and grumpy nephew was standing in front of him, holding a long wooden branch in his right hand. And on his head, he wore a flower crown, made of weeds and poppies. Kenny clasped a palm over his mouth, stifling his laughter. He cursed himself for not taking his phone with him. He should have taken a picture, Kuchel had to see this.

"Uncle Kenny!" Hange's loud voice attracted his attention. Kenny turned away from Levi, facing the other kid. She was wearing the same flower crown as Levi. In her hands she held another one - this one made of dandelions. Smiling from ear to ear, she handed it to Kenny.

"I made it for you!" she exclaimed, and something deep inside Kenny's chest warmed at the sight of her. "Would you like to wear it?"

"You better wear it." Levi threatened quietly, giving him another pock. "Four-eyes put a lot of effort into making it."

Kenny smiled, endeared by Levi's protectiveness.

"Of course, I'll wear it," he said. How could he say no these bright eyes? He took off his hat and lowered his head, letting Hange put a flower crown on top of it.

"Ah!" she clasped her hands. "You look so handsome, uncle Kenny! Just so you know," she leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "This flower crown is special."

"Oi!" Levi interfered, glaring at Hange. Despite his angry face, Kenny couldn't help but notice that Levi didn't pock her with his stick. Someone was clearly showing his favoritism. "You said that mine was special!"

"And yours is special!"

"A-ha," Levi shook his head. "There can't be two specials."

"Of course, there can be!" Hange flailed her arms around. "It's just different kinds of special! Your flower crown is a special best friend's crown, and your uncle has the coolest adult's crown!"

"He's not cool," Levi muttered, but he seemed to accept the explanation all the same.

"What's the stick for, kid?" Kenny asked, pointing at it with his chin.

"Levi was a knight!" Hange answered for him. "He was fighting a fierce dragon and to win this battle, he needed a magical weapon! It was forged by the forest gods!"

"A fight with a dragon?" Kenny whistled. "Were you s princess then, Hange?"

"Nope," she replied with a wide grin.

"She was a dragon," Levi muttered.

"Oh." Kenny should have anticipated something like that. "Did it mean that you lost, Levi?"

Instead of answering, Levi kicked him in the shin.

"We took a recess," Hange said, pushing the glasses up her nose. "The dragon was getting kinda tired."

"Right," Kenny looked up at the sky, the sun was already setting. "Let's go home then. Your mother is probably back from work by now."

"I have flowers for Mrs. Ackerman too!" Hange opened her backpack, showing a small bouquet of field flowers to Kenny. "You'll give them to her, right, uncle Kenny?"

"Why don't you give them yourself, Hange?" he offered. "You can join us for a dinner, I'm sure Kuchel won't mind."

"My mom's making pasta this evening," Levi added, looking a bit shy. "And if you want, we can watch cartoons after that. Have a sleepover."

"I would love that, Levi!" Hange pulled him into a hug. Levi made a face, but- didn't protest.

"Thanks for joining us today, uncle Kenny!" Hange told him after she let go of Levi. "It was the best day ever!"

"You're always welcome, my dear," Kenny's lips curled into a rare, sincere smile.

"Let's get back to the car," he said, standing up.

"The first one to they car chooses the cartoon!" Hange shouted and sprinted off. Levi rushed after her, but Kenny couldn't help but notice - his nephew was purposefully running slower than usual.

Soon Hange reached the car and started jump around in victory, while Levi made a show of looking defeated.

Kenny chuckled, watching them. It was good to know that his nephew had a friend like that, the one who made him so happy. It made Kenny happy too.

#felt kinda inspired by that ask so here you go :)#levihan

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smallblip · 3 years

Note

A quick prompt @luanabonn and I came up with seeing this TOTALLY CANON scene of Levi bathing Hange in this hilarious animatic video (the best part is obviously from 0:17-0:25)

Imagine the first time the vets walked in on Levi bathing Hange and Erwin would probably just facepalm or start rubbing his temples like "Geeez guys, really?". Mike would be like "Called it!" and high five Nana. Poor Moblit would probably just freez cause he's traumatized for life 😂

Years later when the 104th kids walk into the same scenario, Levihan would legit try to normalize it 😂 I see Levi saying something like "What are you looking at, brats? This is perfectly normal. I've been doing this for years now, okay?" and Hange would say "yeah... It's surely not like we're dating or something like that...ha ha ha... not at all"

And the kids be like "Yeah we know you're not dating... Because you're already married... Mom & Dad" ❤️

Yasssss my bbs💖 @hanjo-love @luanabonn thank you both💖 I love this!

Also thank you for the video it was GREAT.

Two sides, same goddamn coin

“Erwin... Why are you standing out on the corridor?” Mike asks on the way back to his room. It’s late. There’s no reason for Erwin to be standing back against his door, looking absolutely resigned.

Nanaba peeks from behind Mike, “hey boys, what’s the commotion about?”

Moblit is with Nanaba, both deciding to search the male dorms for Hanji who has seemingly disappeared into thin air.

“Hanji and Levi are in my bath...” Erwin exhales a sigh, eyes shut, fingers rubbing his temples.

“What do you mean?” Mike says carefully. At this point, Moblit just looks like he’s seen a ghost. Abort abort! It’s okay Nanaba I’ll look for Hanji buntaicho another time! It’s not that urgent! Nothing is that urgent! But Moblit knows it’s too late. He knows where this is all going. He’s part of their little game now.

“I mean...” Erwin gives them ‘that look’, the one they always give one another when Levi and Hanji are being insufferable, “they are in my bath... Bathing... Together...”

Mike and Nanaba freeze for a second.

It’s only a split second and soon they’re pushing past Erwin and dashing in his room.

“Wait-“ Erwin and Moblit in a hushed whisper. But soon the three of them are standing outside his bathroom door.

Laughter streams through from the other side of the door.

“Oh my god...” Nanaba gasps, “what’s going on?”

“Let’s weigh our options,” Mike suggests.

“On one hand, we get to see for ourselves, get to the bottom of this matter... You know... Investigate...” Erwin has his thinking face on.

“Investigate huh... That’s exactly what the tax payers pay us to do in the Survey Corps...” Mike says. Immediately it’s clear what his preference is.

“On the other hand...” Erwin continues, “Levi might murder us all...”

“A worthy death for a soldier...” Mike shrugs.

“Oh no... I really don’t think we should...” Moblit stutters. Nanaba notes that he is very sweaty.

Looks are exchanged and it has been decided. With a heavy hand, Erwin slams open the bathroom door.

There’s a scream that’s only stopped when Levi slaps his hand over Hanji’s mouth.

“What?” Levi snaps, as if they had been trespassing.

“You’re in my bath...” Erwin says, equally matter of fact.

“Your bath is the nicest...” Hanji offers.

“You’re in my bath... Together...” Erwin raises a brow.

“As Captain of the Survey Corps, you said it was my duty to supervise the cleanliness and hygiene of the soldiers,” Levi murmurs, sinking lower into the bubbles, hands coming to cover Hanji up. Absolute gentleman.

“This is a very unique means of supervision, Captain...” Erwin smirks.

“Whatever gets the job done, Commander...” Levi spits the last word.

Behind him, Mike and Nanaba high five. Finally. Some catharsis. They called it. They all called it. Levi and Hanji were a thing. This is absolute proof. No one can tell them otherwise now. Ha! Take that! Moblit has averted his eyes. Nothing in this world can compel him to look.

“Excuse me ladies...” Hanji clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably against Levi, “I am very naked, and to be honest with you, the water is starting to get cold... Soon I will be freezing my tits off... So could we please continue this at a more convenient time?”

“Whatever you say m’lady...” Erwin tips his imaginary hat.

“Fuck you...” Hanji narrows her eyes at him and mutters under her breath. Great. They can never use Erwin’s bath again. What alternatives are there? The cadet showers maybe? The piping is really new there, that means there’s a whole lot of hot water. Probably not. They don’t need a part two of this happening.

“Hanji san! We need to seek approval for-“

Everyone’s jaw is agape. Armin’s hands have flown to cover his face, “my virgin eyes...” he’s murmuring repeatedly.

“Why wouldn’t you close the bathroom door!” Sasha shouts accusatorily. Now the bunch of them are standing awkwardly in Hanji’s room, averting their gaze from the adjacent bath. Should they leave now? They really should. But there are forms that need filling.

“Why wouldn’t you guys knock!” Hanji retaliates.

“You always ask us not to!” Connie shoots back.

Oh, Hanji winces, she did in fact tell them to just enter because half the time she’s too engrossed in whatever it is she’s doing to hear.

“What the fuck do you want brats?” Levi has sunk all the way down the bath, the water now grazing his chin.

“We would like to seek permission from Hanji san to go to the town on Monday for supplies...” Armin pipes up, eyes still squeezed shut.

“Permission granted! Now go!” Levi shouts.

Sasha sees the opportunity and ceases it, “we would also like to request for the weekend off for recreational purposes! Sir!”

“Don’t push it Braus!” Levi snaps.

Darn it.

“Anything else? Or would you guys like to run through your entire schedules for the next two months with me while you’re at it? It’s not like I’m in the bath naked or anything ha-ha!” Hanji guffaws. It’s so painfully awkward her body literally cannot conjur anything rational to do. They have both slid so far down the tub that she’s practically lying atop Levi, his crotch against her butt making her blush up a storm.

“Why are you in the bath with Captain Levi?” Mikasa asks. Everyone stares at her.

“Mikasa!” Armin exclaims. They absolutely do not need more time in this tiny room with their two naked superiors.

“Hanji is filthy. I’m cleaning her. What’s abnormal about this situation?” Levi deadpans.

“I can’t reach my back! It’s a practical arrangement!” Hanji chuckles, “it’s not like we’re dating or anything!”

“My parents are married and they don’t even do this...” Sasha murmurs.

Jean has had enough. His face is so red he feels like he’ll die if he doesn’t stop this nonsense. This is a conversation that never needed to happen. “Permission to be dismissed from this conversation!”

“Fuck! Finally! Permission granted Jean!” Hanji says, throwing her hands up in despair.

Everyone shuffles out the door, and Armin bumps against the frame multiple times because his eyes are still shut. Levi and Hanji let out a collective sigh. Good lord Armin!

“Uh... Okay... Bye mom and dad...” Eren stutters, how does one leave this situation on a good note because this isn’t it, “I mean... Captain... Squad leader...” he gathers his jaw from where it has hit the ground and leaves with the others.

Hanji laughs awkwardly and turns to Levi, “remember when Erwin and the others saw-“

Levi’s face is red, and the blush has now spread to his neck. Thankfully the kids are gone. Another moment longer and most of the bubbles would have popped. He tsks and cuts Hanji off, “I would very much not like to remember that... Or this...”

#I love you two and this prompt #hope this is alrighty #t’was fun #levihan #levihan Drabble #vets hc #naughty children #inbox #hanjo-love #offerings #mine #Drabble #Levi x hange #luanabonn

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lmaoeraserhead · 3 years

Text

pairing : stripper!Ushijima x reader

wc: 2.5k

a/n : this is based off of a random thought i had a couple of days ago. It’s so past my bed time right now, this is completely unedited and its most likely awful, but please please please enjoy!

warnings: SMUT 18+, pet names, one (1) pussy slap, mean Ushi, sex work??? idk lemme know if i missed anything please

You hear the opening of Old Town Road from the booth you and some of your closest friends rented for the night. Never in a million years had you imagined you’d be spending your night in a sketchy ass club, and you definitely hadn’t expected the country (if you could even call it that) song from the booming speakers.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Please welcome our star performer, Ace, to the stage.” The clear voice rings loud enough to push through your hazy thoughts. Despite having tons of fun with your friends (and one too many drinks), you were tired and just about ready to call it a night.

The lights suddenly took a dive, and you were left in the dark with your vodka cranberry. Excited squeals can be heard from other people around you. The song started slowly, definitely edited, the bass making the ice cubes in your drink dance with the beat. You could feel the vibration deep in your bones, and it sent a pleasant shiver up your spine.

As slowly as the lights had plunged dark, they sure took their damn time brightening back up. Squinting from your seat, you could hardly see anything on stage through the red haze of the lights and fog machine. You didn’t know why, but the anticipation had your toes curling in your platforms. The achingly slow buildup pushed you forward in your seat and sent your legs moving to get closer to the main stage. You weaved your way through the packed crowd alone, ducking under and around stray limbs that got in your way.

The guitar of Old Town Road picks up, and it strikes you odd how sensual the usually goofy song sounds. Of course, you’re in a strip club and you should have at least expected some unconventional set lists. Your friends call out your name from the dark corner they’re sitting in, but you’re mesmerized by someone you can’t even see yet, so you don’t even turn to acknowledge their calls.

Taking a big gulp from your drink and stealing one of the few empty chairs left lining the stage, the hair on the back of your neck raises when the spotlight finally focuses on the figure that is in the center of your vision. His routine hasn’t even started, and he already has the whole club enthralled. Ace was his stage name, but you wonder what his real name could be. Although, Ace seemed to fit him well enough. He’s built like an executioner, ready to deliver the last blow.

He’s huge, well over 6 feet tall. His rippling muscle that’s somehow already sweaty and glistening, bulges with every one of his subtle movements. You can’t see his face, which is tilted down underneath a wide-brimmed cowboy hat, but you can only imagine how attractive he is from his build alone. He’s shirtless, wearing jeans, a huge rodeo buckle, and boots with spurs.

His left hand comes up to lift the brim of his white wicker hat, slowly revealing his smoldering hooded eyes. He is the center of attention, and he’s enjoying it. The hundreds of chattering mouths fall quiet as the beat picks up, along with his very anticipated dancing. His hips move with practiced ease, back and forth, stretching the taut muscles of his stomach. Your eyes find the thatch of hair below his bellybutton, and follow it’s trail, huffing under your breath with dissapointment when you end up at the heavy-looking belt buckle he’s wearing.

Your mouth suddenly feels dry, you lick your lips and take a sip of your slightly watered-down drink. Your teeth catch your bottom lip when you look back up from your lukewarm vodka to find warm chocolate eyes level with yours, among other things. Sucking in a deep breath, you watch as his body, now perpendicular to the worn wooden stage, as it grinds to the beat.

His eyes never leave yours as he dances to what is now becoming one of your favorite songs. His fist meets the ground, simultaneously paired with a thrust of his hips. He turns his head to the side, giving you a glimpse of the strong column of his neck. One particularly smooth move of his has your thighs clenching together.

Not once in your whole life had you ever thought you’d be jealous of a floor, but the way Ace was practically fucking himself against it had you squirming in your seat. The clank of his belt buckle against the hardwood had you imagining his sweaty body above yours, you could practically feel the strong build of his shoulders underneath your fingernails. You could feel the way he’d thrust into you, leaving you a whimpering mess.

Ace makes his way uprights again, slowly, teasingly. He smirks at you, and only you. His gaze is heavy and his expression sends a swooping feeling through your stomach. The song finally comes to an end, with Ace kneeling down in front of you. His thick index finger is under your jaw, closing your mouth and tilting your head up. You’re both breathless, for two completely different reasons. He places his hat on your head, bends down, and whispers in your ear, “Find me backstage.”

Before he backs away, he pulls your earlobe in between his teeth and growls lowly. Your wide eyes and stunned expression make a chuckle rumble from his bare chest. You nod slowly, because what else were you supposed to do?

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

“You liked the show, huh?” Before you could respond, you were pulled against Ace’s sweaty chest. Backstage was a mess of show runners, other performers, and wires. But somehow Ace had managed to get his own private dressing room, fully equipped with a couch, closet, and functioning shower. And you had managed to find him with the help of his hat on top of your frizzy hair.

The alcohol you had consumed earlier helped you melt into his sturdy lap, and lean into him, “I enjoyed it very much, Ace.” You contemplated for a bit, tilting your head, “Interesting song choice, though.” You couldn’t help but squirm on his jean-clad thighs as his hands trailed up and down your sides, catching on the hem of your dress.

“My name isn’t Ace, little one,” he smiled and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, “It’s Ushijima.” He took his hat off of your head with little ceremony and pushed one of his thumbs past your lips. “And from the state of your sloppy pussy you’re trying so hard to grind on me, I’d say you didn’t mind the song too much,”

You suck on his thumb like a good little girl and nod frantically. Now that you think about it, you had been subconciously rubbing yourself against the hardening bulge in his pants. “M’can’t help it, i-it hurts so bad.” You slur around his thick digit, and drool drops onto your chin. His performance had turned your silk panties see-through, and you were staring to leave a dark spot on the crotch of Ushijima’s jeans.

“You’re such a messy little thing, aren’t you.” He pulls his thumb away and smears your spit into your cheek, “I bet you’d do anything to ride my cock, hmmm?” He presses your body even closer to him, his body heat deliciously warm. Being this close to him makes you realize just how enormous he actually is, another thought that leaves your thighs clenching.

Ushijima’s harsh breaths are mingling with yours, you don’t have space to think, but your body is answering every question he shoots your way, tenfold. He kisses you with the ferocity of a starved man. It’s messy, and when he pulls back, a string of saliva connects you both. His pupils are blown so wide that the hazel of his eyes can hardly be seen.

You nod your head, “Please.” Looking up through your lashes you see him hesitate for just a moment. “Please! Please Ushijima, fuck me.” You’re whining at this point, you know, but you’re so desperate.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath and swipes his sweaty hair from his forehead, “get up, little one. I want you to take off this fucking dress.” He lifts you from his lap with ease and turns you around in front of him. “You’ve been teasing me with this outfit all night. Squeezing those soft thighs together in front of everyone, like a whore.” You whimper, suddenly feeling very exposed, “What? You think I didn’t notice?” He taunts you mercilessly. You’re so wet at this point, you can feel it dripping down the inside of your thighs.

You lift the hem of your dress over your head and drop it next to you on the floor. You’ve never been extremely shy but the man in front of you makes it nearly impossible not to want to run away from his sharp gaze. The black underwear you had decided to wear for the night were nothing special, and your reluctance to wear a bra had come back to bite you in the ass. You were practically naked in front of Ushijima.

“Your panties too, little one. I can’t fuck you with those in the way, can I?” A small moan gets caught in the back of your throat as he slips his hands underneath the soft silk covering you. “And here I thought you were gonna be my good little slut.” He tsks and shakes his head disapprovingly. The muscles in his jaw work as he slips a finger through your slippery folds. “You’re… so wet.” He admonishes, still circling your cunt but never where you need him the most.

“No shit.” You roll your eyes and grip his forearm, trying and failing to get his fingers on your clit. He pulls his hand away and before you realize what’s happening, he slaps you through your underwear. The shock is enough to send you back into his lap, mewling. “F-fuck! What was that for?” You thread your fingers together behind his neck and press your bare chest against his, feeling very impatient.

Ushijima is finally at his limit, apparently, because he reaches in between your sweat-covered bodies and takes off his belt. You gulp and fumble to help him, but again, you’re stopped by his strong grasp on your wrists. “No,” he’s practically growling, “bad little sluts don’t get to touch as they please. Put your hands back where they were and don’t move.” You do as he says immediately, feeling like you’ve already tested your limits for the night. The button and zipper of his pants come undone with a quiet ‘pop’, and he licks his slightly chapped lips fighting the urge to teach you a lesson right then and there. “You better hold on, little one. I’m gonna have to fuck some manners into you.”

His cock slaps his stomach when he finally gets his pants down and Ushijima breathes a sigh of relief. You choke on the thick air of his dressing room when your eyes finally catch a glimpse of what you had been grinding on earlier. His dick is enormous, very befitting of its owner, but you were regretting your loud-ass mouth right about now. The tip is red and angry, leaking precum against his impressive abs. Ushijima’s hand can barely wrap itself around his impressive member when he strokes himself a few times before hissing out another sigh through his teeth.

“Don’t worry, baby it’ll fit.” His words did little to reassure you as he lined himself up with your slick entrance. Your position gave you some small amount of control, although you knew Ushijima had his large hands on your waist for a reason. “Take what you can, for now.” His soft eyes met yours for a moment as he rubbed circles into your back, his harsh words gone for a moment.

You lowered yourself onto his length slowly, using his shoulders as leverage. Ushijima filled you like no one had ever managed before, and when you thought you had seated yourself completely, there always seemed to be another inch. Mouth open and eyes wide, you were babbling incoherently, the delicious stretch of his cock left you drooling and dumb.

To help you, Ushijima finally gave your neglected bud the attention you had been seeking all night. The small amount of friction he allows sends you spasming around his length. Between moans and whines, Ushijima could hear curses and little cries of ‘thank you, Ushi’, he smiles, thinking it’s completely precious how quickly you managed to fuck yourself stupid.

“That’s it little one, just like that. That’s a good fucking girl. Take what you need from my cock,” He smirks and brings your face close to his own, gripping your cheeks tight, “Before I ruin every other man for you.” He kisses you on the forehead, almost condescendingly, before grappling your hips again and thrusting up into your messy cunt.

His thrusts are brutal, his sweet demeanor gone now that he’s chasing his own release, using you as nothing but his own personal fucktoy. His grunts get louder and the muscles in his defined stomach grow taught the closer he gets to his orgasm. Ushijima’s strength is impressive, it has to be with the way you’ve gone limp in his lap, shaking from the over stimulation.

“P-please cum Ushijima.” You hiccup around the syllables of his name and scratch at his upper-back. You’re jostled with every powerful thrust he gives you, too tired to meet them. All you can do is take the pleasure he gives you.

Moaning a long string of curses, Ushijima’s movements become more erratic and his cock swells impossibly further, “Where do you want my cum little one?” His teeth catch his bottom lip and he continues to hump into you frantically.

You whimper as you feel the heat in your belly starting to spread, “I-inside! Want you t-to fill me up Ushi.” The pleasure building up inside you finally snaps when you feel Ushijima’s warm cum coat your insides. He keeps thrusting into you shallowly, almost unconsciously, as you both ride out your orgasms.

After a few beats of heavy breathing and muffled club music, Ushijima clears his throat, “Hey, uh, are you alright?” His hands are rubbing soothing circles into your thighs, which are shaking horribly.

You lift your head up from his neck and blink dazedly a few times before smiling, “Never been better, big guy.” You truly are dick drunk, “But I could use some help getting to the bathroom.” You brush a few stray hairs from Ushijima’s forehead and laugh when he picks you up bridal style, carrying you like you asked.

“I can do that, little one.” He smiles back at you, “If you don’t mind can I, uh. Fuck this sounds awful.” He laughs awkwardly, ��Can I get your name, maybe?”

You blink back at the man holding you naked against his chest. “It’s Y/n.” You tell him with a small smile.

#case writes ;)#haikyuu #hq ushijima #ushijima smut #ushijima x reader #hq smut #haikyuu smut #ushijima wakatoshi #please this drained me physically emotionally and sexually #SHES FINALLY HERE

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS II Vol.1 Ayato VS Laito [Track 1+2]

Original title: 月蝕のよる～total Eclipse～ & 蝕を背負って

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 1 Ayato VS Laito [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here & here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru & Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: I’m only two tracks into this CD but I’m already loving the tension between Ayato and Laito. I like how this CD seems to touch upon their personal childhood traumas with Cordelia and how they harbor a completely different feeling towards her. This played somewhat of a part in their respective More, Blood routes as well, so I’m really glad to find out more about it! That being said, they do use a lot of vague expressions when roasing each other, so I hope I got all of the hidden implications right.

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 1: ~Total Eclipse~ of the Moon

Ayato: ...The moon is chipped. Tsk...!! No wonder I feel this restless inside...

You approach him.

Ayato: The lunar eclipse, huh...?

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...Ah? Chichinashi. Now this is new.

He turns around.

Ayato: What brings you here at this hour? Were you lured in by that moon as well? Hahaha...

You explain.

Ayato: Well yeah, makes sense. By this point, you’re basically one of us.

Ayato offers you a hand.

Ayato: Come here...I’m sure you know by now that resistin’ is absolutely futile?

*Rustle*

Ayato: Besides, I’m not in the mood for that right now...Come here!

You continue to protest, afraid he’ll suck your blood.

Ayato: Geez...Fuck...You really are a pain in the ass.

*Rustle*

Ayato: I’m not horny 24/7, you know? And here I thought I’d actually show you somethin’ nice.

You frown.

Ayato: What’s with that expression? Are you disappointed or somethin’? Haha...!

Ayato suddenly lifts you into his arms.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Heavy-hoh...! You don’t see this kind of nice view every day, so let’s take the opportunity to watch it from up close.

He launches himself into the air, eventually landing on the roof.

*WOOSH*

*Thud*

Ayato: ...There we go. We’ve reached our destination.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Chichinashi, follow me. Let’s go that way.

You seem scared.

Ayato: ...Ah? Are you shakin’ on your legs? What? You’re scared of bein’ up on the roof? Geez, what a drag...Come on, hold onto me.

You seem hesitant.

Ayato: What? I won’t try and pull anythin’ funny, promised. ...Honestly, I’m out here showin’ my good heart and that’s the reaction I get in return?

*Rustle*

Ayato: More importantly, look up at the moon! It’s chipped! Hahaha! Surprised?

You mention the lunar eclipse.

Ayato: I figured I’d show you since it’s a rare occurrence, but you know about it? Che...! Yeah, it’s a lunar eclipse. I don’t know ‘bout the details, but you barely get to witness one, right?

You thank him for trying to please you.

Ayato: Aah!? I wasn’t tryin’ to make you happy or anythin’! Don’t be so full of yourself! ...It’s just that the lunar eclipse makes us Vampires go crazy. How do I put it - it makes our feelings and actions unstable - to the point of madness. I guess you could say it shakes us up? I don’t quite know how to describe this feeling...

You seem somewhat worried.

Ayato: Well, that might be why I’m a lil’ kind to you, or why I brought you up here to the roof.

You ask if he needs to rest for a bit.

Ayato: Ah? I don’t feel sick or anything. I just feel oddly restless inside...It’s a weird kind of feeling.

*Rustle*

Ayato: So, how do you feel? Well, you’re not a Vampire...But, is that truly the case? Don’t you ask yourself that question at times as well? That perhaps, you’ve longーー

He leans in close.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: ーー Become a Vampire.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Ayato: ...Hahaha! Nice reaction! I mean, it makes sense when you think about it. You’ve been teased by these fangs countless of times, being toyed around with, becoming mine...It wouldn’t be strange if you had awakened by this point.

You tell him to stop messing with you.

Ayato: I’m not tryin’ to scare you. It’s the truth, isn’t it?

Ayato pins you down.

*Rustle*

*Thud*

Ayato: Honestly, even if you were to be a Vampire by this point, there’s nothin’ to be scared of, right?

You shake your head.

Ayato: Vampire or human, it’s pretty much the same thing. As you can tell, our appearance is barely any different.

*Rustle*

Ayato: The difference is that we suck blood. Also...Well, we just have a few powers here and there, you see?

You insist you’re not a Vampire either way.

Ayato: Yet it still scares you?

He moves closer to your face.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Say, Chichinashi...? ...Even if you were to become a Vampire, I’d still...

Track 2: Bearing the Burden of the Eclipse

Laito: Nfufufu~ Fufufufu...~!

Ayato: ...!!

Laito: Oh geez~ A love scene up on the rooftop? You’re more of a romantic than I thought, Ayato-kun~

Ayato: Laito...!!

Laito: Exactly, the one and only~ ...My bad for interrupting?

Ayato: Che...Why the fuck are you here!?

Laito: There’s no deep reasoning behind it. Well, like you mentioned earlier, the lunar eclipse might have lured me out here. Fufu~ It messes with our heads a little, you see? So it wouldn’t be that strange for me to be lost in my own thoughts up here on the roof, no? Nfu~ I’m glad it gave me a chance at seeing that romantic side of yours which you usually keep hidden. Fufu...Look, it’s even making the moon flush a bright red. Fufufufu~

Ayato: You bastard...Are you makin’ fun of me!?

Laito: Hmー Not quite...If I had to put it into words, I guess you could say...I’m jealous?

Ayato: Haah...!?

Laito: Because Bitch-chan’s cheeks have become this flushed as she watches you with eyes full of passion...I guess~

You become even more flustered.

Laito: ...Say, Bitch-chan? I’m pretty sure this uncertain feeling inside of me is what you’d call jealousy. What do you think?

You tell him to stop teasing.

Laito: Fufu~ ...I’m not teasing you or anything? You are such a cruel girl. I wonder why you’re doubting my feelings? ...Being honest would make you much cuter, you know? Or at least pretend to be fooled by me. ...Oh, whoopsie~ I blew my own cover. Nfu~ ...However, I really do feel restless inside. I wasn’t lying when I said this might be jealousy either.

Laito leans in, whispering in your ear.

Laito: ...The thought of Ayato-kun stealing you away from me pisses me off. Furthermore, I’d love to just turn you into a mess right here, right now.

Ayato: Oi! You’re fuckin’ annoyin’! Showin’ up out of nowhere...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Just scram already!

Laito: Eeeh~? What if I say ‘no’?

Ayato: Then I’ll push you off this roof!

Laito: Big talk for someone who can’t even do that. ...That technique has already been claimed by me after all.

Ayato: Che...You’re talkin’ ‘bout that shitty Old Hag? Honestly...Will you ever be able to forget her?

Laito: Ugh...!

Ayato: Hahaha! What? Did I hit bull’s eye?

Laito: You decide to bring that back up at this exact timing, huh? Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Haah? You’re the one who staーー

Laito suddenly attacks Ayato.

*Rustle*

Laito: ...Fuck off!

Ayato: ...! ...Kuh...

Laito: Do you think you’re in any position...To mock me like that?

Ayato: ...Aah!?

Ayato fights back.

*Rustle rustle*

*Thud*

Ayato: Whatcha mean...!?

You try to get in between them.

Laito: Oh...

Ayato: You’re in the way, Chichinashi! Stay out of this!

Laito: Fufufu~ You’re such a gentleman, Ayato-kun~ You’re scared she’ll get hurt from getting involved in our brotherly quarrel, aren’t you?

Ayato: Kuh...That’s not it! I just simply thought she was in the way, that’s all!

Laito: Hm...In that caseーー

*THUD*

Ayato: ...!!

Laito creeps up on you.

Laito: ...You wouldn’t mind if I were to hurt her, do you? Like this...

He bites you.

Laito: Mmh...

*Gulp gulp gulp*

Ayato: ...Ugh. You bastard...!!

Ayato grabs him by the collar.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Cut the crap!!

*THUD*

Laito: ...Ah!

Ayato: Keep your dirty hands off what belongs to me.

Laito: Look at you go...However, my blood is boiling right now as well...Ugh!

*THUD*

Laito: ...Owow. Geez, it’s been a while since I went all out like that. My hat’s crooked. Better fix it~ ...There we go.

*Rustle*

Ayato: ...That hurt. Whatcha gettin’ all worked up by yourself, huh?

Laito: Hmm~? I guess we can blame the lunar eclipse for that? Seems like I just couldn’t let your words from earlier slide. It’s rather upsetting how you keep on insisting that I still haven’t parted with that dead woman.

You grab hold of Laito’s arm.

Ayato: ...Ah!

Laito: Hm? What’s wrong, Bitch-chan? Are you telling us to stop fighting? ...But you know, I believe there’s times where you have to keep on going until the score is settled.

Ayato: Hehe...I agree with that.

Laito: Nfu...~ What a coincidence.

Ayato: We can just decide who is the strongest by pure force and whoever wins get to keep that woman for themselves!

Laito: Makes you wonder which one of us is unable to move on...Fufu~

Ayato: ...Haah? What did you say just now?

Laito: Nfu~ I was just talking to myself. ...Well then, the moon has been chipped nicely. Shall we get started?

Ayato: Yeah! Bring it on!

You stand in between them, begging the two to stop.

Laito: Oh dear, oh dear~ How heroic of you, Bitch-chan! However, only fools get in the way of a fight between two men, you know?

Ayato: Exactly. Step back, Chichinashi.

Laito: Who knows what we’ll do because of this moon after all.

You shake your head.

Ayato: Aahn? What was that, Chichinashi? We’re not fightin’ ‘cause the moon is messin’ with our heads.

Laito: Exactly, Bitch-chan. The lunar eclipse simply provides a perfect opportunity. We’ve been unable to bridge the gap between us since forever. Up till now, we’ve simply chosen to constantly turn a blind eye to it, running away. Right, Ayato-kun?

Ayato: Kuh...!

Laito: I just figured it might be time for us brothers to stop running and face each other head on. Nfu~

Ayato: Che...You’re too damn persistent. Go stand over there!

*Rustle*

You lose your balance and slide down the roof.

Laito: ...Woah!

Ayato: ...Chichinashi!? What are you doin’...!?

Laito: What do you mean? You’re the one who pushed her away too harshy, so she slipped and nearly tumbled down the roof!

Ayato: Che...Fuck off!

*Rustle*

Ayato: Oi, Chichinashi! Don’t you dare let go! I’ll save you!

Ayato reaches out for you.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Come on, grab my hand!

Laito: Now who is the one responsible for this in the first place, huh? ...Are you okay, Bitch-chan? Instead of going for that brute over here...

Laito holds out his hand as well.

*Rustle*

Laito: You should take my hand instead.

Ayato: Shut up! Come on, Chichinashi! This way!

Laito: I’m stronger than you’d expect, so you can rest assured and entrust your body to me, Bitch-chan~

Ayato: Hurry up...!!

The wind picks up.

Ayato: ...This is bad!

You lose your grip and nearly fall to your death.

Ayato: Che...It’s ‘cause you kept on takin’ yer damn sweet time!

*Rustle rustle*

*Thud*

Ayato jumps down, catching you just in time.

Ayato: ...That was close. Don’t scare me like that!

Laito: Ayato-kuuun~ Is Bitch-chan alright~?

He puts you down.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Che...Oi, Chichinashi. Come with me.

Ayato grabs hold of your hand.

Ayato: I’m sick and tired of havin’ to deal with that guy.

He runs away with you.

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers VERSUS II #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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aloraundomiel · 3 years

Text

I’ve decided to combine @rubinecorvus Wartober 2021 and @raincoffeeandfandoms Kisstober 2021 prompt challenges for double the fun and double the headache. :3

Day 3 - Vessel + Morning Kisses

Dick can tell what kind of day it’s going to be by the mug Nix chooses upon waking.

He shuffles into the kitchen, already running late and nearly nude, if not as naked as the day he was born. Occasionally there will be socks. His hair will be unkempt and sticking up in every direction, inexplicable if Dick has tugged on it through their sex the night before. Eyes closed as he’s drawn to the coffee pot like a moth to the flame, skirting the kitchen table and counter edges from memory.

Dick shakes back his sleeve, mouth tightening in a minute down turn as his watch ticks on insistently.

Nix scrubs a hand through his heavy stubble, peers over to where Dick’s standing in his mild irritation.

“You’ve missed the first train,” he slurs.

Dick tugs his sleeve back down, crosses the three strides it takes to get from the cramped apartment kitchen to the door and plucks his coat from the hook.

“I can make the second if I leave in the next couple of minutes. The benefits of cheap housing, being so close to the station. Are you coming?”

Nix barks a laugh and it’s no indicator whether he’s scoffing at the suggestion he could possibly be ready in minutes or at the notion of showing up for work at all. The possibility of either happening is slim to none and mentally Dick already starts to run down the list of tasks he’ll have to add to his own agenda today to ensure Nixon Nitration’s administrative offices continue to run smoothly without their employer. Not that any of the staff will be shocked by the boss not showing up at the office. The times they actually see Stanhope Nixon’s son per month can be counted on both hands. But Dick’s job is enough work on it’s own. Not particularly challenging, but he would like to stamp it with his own brand of efficiency and work ethic without constantly having to cover for Nix going AWOL.

Dick watches from beneath his lashes, stalking Nix’s movement to the cabinet where the coffee mugs are kept.

“Coffee first,” grumbles Nix, fumbling through the collection of ceramic vessels with a series of soft clanks and clings.

Dick waits, holding his breath. Though there’s a dozen different cups within reach, there will be three that dictate Nix’s current mood and mental state. If he chooses the white, unassuming diner mug, lacking any kind of decoration or detail, a full night’s sleep was had and the day will consist of the usual amount of humorous cynicism. If he goes for the slightly larger jadeite mug with the chip in the handle, the day will only be peppered lightly with bouts of irritability and spells of hopelessness and ennui, and some level of productivity and socialization will be maintained. If he reaches for the hand-thrown extra large stoneware mug with Adirondack pines circumventing it’s convex sides...Dick hopes he doesn’t reach for that mug.

“You sleep all right?” Dick prompts, hoping to get some insight into foretelling the selection before it happens.

Nix cuts a sleepy side-eyed glance at him across the counter, flashes that smirk that even in his bedraggled, rugged state makes Dick’s heart do a tiny wet flip-flop.

“Well not for the present company’s lack of trying.” He lifts a brow and drops his gaze lewdly down Dick’s front, rests it suggestively at the crotch of his khakis.

To hide the flush he feels spreading from the apple of his cheeks, Dick clears his throat and leans over to snatch his hat off the coat rack.

“Wasn’t my intention to keep you up all night-”

“Some parts of me, it was,” Nix drawls.

Dick continues with a grimace. “I just thought,” he insists, “it might be nice to spend some time together. Things have gotten busy at the office lately, and well.”

He trails off, chewing at the inside of his lip. It does seem silly now. Inviting Nix over to spend the night because he’d missed the feel of his skin against his own, missed the timbre of his unguarded laugh. Reckless even. Although the apartment building is the right amount of cordial and distant, he’s still got neighbors. And even the most loyal neighbors can talk. It’s ridiculous. Risking what he has with Nix on a single night’s basest pleasure. He’d told himself once they were back home, he’d figure something out. A way to love him without the secrecy and sneaking around, a way to care for Nix as he deserved to be cared for - without regret. Dick swore to be the first. The first to adore Lewis Nixon and not treat him as a burden to be endured. As a mistake to be suffered.

“Nevermind,” he says, rather glumly. “I’m glad you got some rest.”

Nix leans back to peer around the cabinet door, picking up on the change in his tone. His face softens, eyes opening fully for the first time since entering the kitchen and he abandons his quest for coffee to step around the counter’s edge. He reaches for Dick, runs a cautious hand down his arm.

“Hey, Dick, hey.” His eyes are the perfect compliment to a fine cup of coffee. Dick’s always been drawn to the color of Nix’s eyes.

“It was great,” Nix tells him, sliding his hand up to cup the back of Dick’s neck, gives it a squeeze. “Extraordinary. Transcendent. It always is. But I don’t always need you to fuck me through the mattress to enjoy spending time with you. You could let me take you to dinner.”

Dick can feel the crude words push his flush out to the roots of his hair. “Dinner?”

Nix leans in, eyes flicking between Dick’s and his mouth and back. “Yeah. You know. Dinner. And a movie. And maybe a little necking in the car in the back of the parking lot.”

His grin is annoyingly contagious and Dick stops fighting the magnetic pull, let’s himself be drawn into Nix’s gravity. “Like a date?” he murmurs.

“Yeah. A real date. I’ll pick you up, bring you flowers, spring for dessert, the whole shebang.”

Dick tilts his head, inviting Nix closer, draws his other arm up to cage Dick fully against the door.

“Careful,” he whispers, a hair’s breath away from Nix’s lips. “A man might think you’re sweet on him with all that.”

Nix’s coffee colored eyes twinkle, wide awake. “Good.”

He surges up to capture Dick’s mouth, kissing whatever smart reply he had building on his tongue away. Dick moans, buries his hands in Nix’s wild hair and kisses him back, licks at the seam of his mouth until he opens and allows Dick entrance. He tastes sleep-sour and there’s an echo of last night’s whiskey and that bitter, smoky afterburn that is all Nix and Dick laps it up greedily. All night he’s chased this taste, desperate for it, accenting it with the salt of Nix’s sweat and the sound of Dick’s name from his throat. And he still wants more.

Is this what Nix feels every time he reaches for his flask? Is this what addiction is?

He kisses Nix until his cheeks burn from the rasp of his stubble. He kisses Nix until his lips feel swollen and his heart full to the brim. Kisses him until he’s satisfied he can wait until it’s time to punch out from work and find Nix again to refill his need of Nix’s lips against his.

When Nix draws back, his breathing is just a tad uneven, his pupils a tad too large. Dick smirks, pleased he’s not the only addict between them.

“So,” Nix says, trying and failing to cover his breathlessness. “You name the day. And I’ll come steal you away for a whirlwind courtship. What do you say?”

Dick runs a thumb over Nix’s bottom lip, watches the way it catches in the tacky saliva still clinging to the swell. “I accept.”

Nix grins, catching the pad of his thumb and giving it a swirl with his clever, devious tongue. He releases it with an audible pop and pushes off the door, leaving Dick choking on a rather indignant whimper in his wake.

“You better run,” he advises. “You’ve got sixty seconds if you’re making your train.”

Snapping out of his spell, Dick tsks and glances at his watch again. He bends at the waist to retrieve his poor hat that got abandoned to the floor with all the smooching.

“Are you coming in today or not? I need to tell Janet or she won’t stop hounding me about it.”

Nix, already back at the coffee pot, lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “Who can say?” he says airily, reaching into the cabinet. “I’ve got a big date to plan for, might need to take the day off and prepare.”

He lowers his hand and in it is clutched the plain white diner mug.

Dick beams.

“Fine,” he chuckles, already half out the door before Nix can finish filling his coffee. “See you later. Or not.”

There’s the sound of a sloppy, particularly wet coffee kiss being blown at his back as the door shuts and Dick finds himself grinning all the way to the train station.

It’s going to be a great day.

#winnix #dick winters #lewis nixon #band of brothers #fanfic #fanfic prompt #kisstober 2021 #wartober 2021

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babbushka · 3 years

Text

Somethin’ Brewin’

Pale x Reader (Blue Moon ‘Verse)

2.5k; NSFW (uniform kink, PIV, fingering, spanking, derogatory names, rough sex, begging, finger-sucking)

Kinktober 2020 Masterlist || Available on AO3

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It’s late, real late. The kind of late where there ain’t even any taxis speedin’ past. An empty diner late at night sure was somethin’, wasn’t it? Sunday nights weren’t too busy, not when everyone had to get up early and head out to their 9-to-5s the next morning. So there you were, all by your lonesome, a couple dimes in the jukebox to keep you company.

Rain slicks up the pavement of the driveway outside, and through the windows you can see the reflection of all the neon out there in the cold and wet. In many ways, you love the diner like this; some soft jazz playing on that jukebox that’s gotta be older than you are, no one to disturb your thoughts as you rinse the last of the dishes and put them in the sinks for the third shift bus-boys.

The bus-boys have all gone, and so has the cook. The diner only serves coffee and whatever you’re willin’ to whip up, when it gets this late. It don’t matter, not one bit, ain’t nobody around to want you to whip anything up anyway.

Oh well, you think as you wipe down the milkshake bar, soon that little hand will hit one and then you’ll get to go home.

“Shit.” You tsk the roof of your mouth, you forgot your damn umbrella.

Fish ain’t here to let you take his this time, he went home an hour ago when it was dry. Maybe you’ll call for a ride, you mull the thought over. You’ve got the pocket cash for it, could just pull a bill or two from the tip jar and call it an evening, but the thought annoys you. That tip jar money’s been goin’ right into a special box that you’ve been working on, hopin’ to surprise your man for somethin’ nice for the holidays.

A bell at the front door dings, and any thoughts about loneliness in an empty diner are cast right outta your head, because as if he was summoned by your very thought, standin’ in front of you is your very own Pale.

Poor guy looks angry, but then again he always does. First thing in the morning after a long night of dead-to-the-world sleep and he looks angry, that was your Pale. He’s got a good reason to be annoyed tonight, just on account of the rain and all, his big leather jacket protected him from most of it, the rest he shakes off right at the door. He hangs up the jacket and reveals one of those silk shirts he loves to wear, gold chain glinting in the soft neon light.

“Wasn’t thinkin’ I’d be seein’ you tonight.” You greet him warmly, setting down the last of the thick glass cups that you’ve been rinsing out.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” He frowns, makes his way over to you where you’re waiting for him with your eyes closed and lips pursed.

You sigh against his mouth when his lips meet yours in a deep kiss, Pale leaning and reaching over the counter to grab at you. His hands don’t ever keep to themselves, and you grin against the corner of his mouth when he gives your ass a firm squeeze.

“Past couple of Sundays you’ve been real busy, that’s all.” You give him a casual shrug. You’re thrilled that he’s here, thrilled that your shift is almost over and that he’s come to pick you up, come to spend a little time with you before you go back to his place and spend the whole night together.

You don’t often spend nights together, just with how hard he works.

“I’m never too busy for you sweetheart you know that – why don’t you go pour me a cup of somethin’ hot, hm?” Pale scrubs the hair out of his face, shakes it back a little so it falls nice and even. It’s wet, but that’s no issue, you like how he looks like this, and the diner is warm enough so he won’t go catching any colds.

“You’re in luck, I’ve got just enough coffee left in this pot for one VSOP.” You give a glance to the coffee pot on the warmer that has been pitifully neglected, save for a swirl every now and again.

Pale nods, and you don’t think you’ll ever stop being smug about that, about converting him to being a coffee drinker. He used to say it sours his stomach, but that’s just because he’s never had a good cup, he never had any of yours. Now he can’t get enough of the shit, and you take that as a win.

Bending over to reach for his favorite mug – you keep it someplace special so that none of the other waitresses send it out to customers during the day – you don’t even think about the fact that your skirt must be ridin’ up until you hear Pale’s very measured and even voice ask, “Hey sweetheart?”

You stand upright and look over your shoulder, that mug of his in hand and a sly smile creeping across your face.

“Yeah Pale?” You bat your lashes at him, acting oh so innocent – even though you’re anything but.

“Do that again.” His eyes have darkened, that cigarette of his clenched between his teeth, the red tip glowing as he takes a forceful drag.

Instead of bending over, you simply hike your skirt up, giving him exactly what he wants. You’re wearing underwear, but it’s the kind he likes, the soft cotton kind that rips easily, that hugs your hips and ass nicely. It’s white, and you just know Pale is already thinking about how soaked that fabric is gonna get, because he’s pouncin’ out of his seat in an instant.

“Like what you see?” You laugh brightly, playfully, dropping your skirt and turning to face him as he pushes his way through the little swinging door of the milkshake bar, is crowdin’ you up against the counter.

“Damn right I do – hold on.” Pale grunts, flicks his ash and yanks open his belt buckle.

You lick your lips while you watch him, casting a cursory glance to the rest of the diner. Anyone could come in, anyone could walk right in and you’d have nowhere to go or hide. The thought thrills you, especially as Pale manhandles you and turns you around, bends you over the counter. He keeps a hold of your wrists, bound behind your back, as he kicks your feet open.

“I love this fuckin’ uniform.” Pale licks his teeth, the hand that ain’t holdin’ your wrists shoves between your legs, rubs at the folds of your pussy and coaxes all kinds of wetness out of you, making you breathe hard from the pleasure that friction brings, “Don’t go workin’ nowhere else – or if you do, steal one of these and bring it back home to me whydontcha.”

“It’s the uniform that does it for you, hm?” You tease him, wriggling your ass against his hand as he slips a couple fingers under your panties and into your pussy, scissoring roughly just to get you stretched enough to take the tip of him. You moan out loud, “Ohhhhh, is that it? You like me in this short skirt?”

“The little hat,” Pale corrects you, and something about that catches you off guard and makes you push back against his hand, his hips, and he groans, “Fuck you’re sexy.”

“How do you want me, sir?” You gasp, “Well done…or over easy?”

That seems to be enough for him, because he pulls his hand out of your underwear and spanks you hard, making you yelp. It stings in the best way, and you can’t help but clench around nothing, wanting to be filled.

Drool pools out of your mouth and drips onto the counter when you get your wish, when Pale shoves down your underwear and you feel the head of his cock push its way roughly into your cunt, using your own slick and some of his spit to lube the way. Your legs spread even wider for him, as wide as the panties around your thighs will let you.

“Atta girl, there it is, right there. All this, this wet for me?” Pale grunts, one hand holding your wrists steady and the other now moving to pin your hip in place as he wastes no time thrusting.

“Shit, yes, Pale – your cock’s so big!” You moan, loud and high because there ain’t nobody around to hear you, no one’s coming, you can be loud loud loud as he thrusts his big dick into your wet cunt.

Stuff on the counter clamors and rattles as he speeds his pace up, not in the mood for anything gentle tonight. You loved it, loved what he gave you and took it eagerly. Pale hadn’t fucked you since last night, and you were starting to miss the feeling of his thick cock rammed up inside you.

“Been dreamin’ about this pussy all day, you know that? Couldn’t fuckin’ wait to get home only to find the place empty, figured you’d be here and damn I’m glad I was right, damn this pussy’s good.” Pale smokes while he fucks you, cigarette clenched between his teeth as you clench around his cock.

“Where – oh! – where the hell else am I gonna go this late?” You gasp and bite your lip, eyes struggling to stay open, the world shaking around you. If you weren’t bent over and pressed against the counter, your tits would probably be sore from how much they’d bounce.

“Off to one of your other boyfriends maybe, I don’t know I ain’t your keeper or nothin’.” Pale pretends he doesn’t give a fuck but you manage to smack his hand even pinned down like you are.

“Shut up with that shit, I’m your girl Pale, always your girl.” You huff out, before shifting your weight so you can meet every one of Pale’s thrusts, your pussy tight and hot around that aching pleasure, “Does this feel like anybody’s fucked me but you?”

“Say it again.” Pale’s quick to say, ignoring your question, and if your body weren’t on fire you’d roll your eyes, because he only riled you up enough so that he’d hear you say his favorite thing in the world,

“I-I’m yours. Your whore, your needy whore, oh fuck, harder Pale please, please!” You beg, beg because it’s all you can manage, his balls slapping your ass fast fast fast, your pussy drooling and dripping onto your panties, soaking into the fabric as his cock spears in and out of you, rough and dirty as he smokes his cigarette.

“I was just teasin’ you know, you’re good to me, my good girl. I like when you make that face you make at me, gorgeous.” Pale sounds like he’s smiling, even as he’s breathing hard, as he’s grunting and groaning and squeezing your hip, your wrists. You shoot a dirty look over his face and Pale thrusts sharply into you from it, “Yeah that’s it, be mad at me baby.”

“You’re – ah, right there right there – you’re awful to me, so mean, god you feel so good!” Your voice climbs higher and higher until you’re gasping loud, body jerking as Pale brushes against your gspot, the head of his cock knocking up against your cervix on every thrust.

“Keep your hat on sweetheart.” Pale grunts and groans, pulls his hand off your hip to smack at your ass again, another hit right on the flesh of your thigh, before that hand of his comes forward to stick his fingers into your mouth. You immediately suck on them, kissing and licking and biting them, hollowing your cheeks around them as he fucks you, “Big boss could come walkin’ in any minute and then you’d be in some real trouble, wouldn’t you? Real big trouble, gettin’ dicked down like this right out in the open.”

“Don’t care,” You moan around his fingers, they’re so thick, so wide, he can barely fit three of them against your tongue.

“’Course you don’t, slut.” Pale scoffs, and you chuckle warm in your chest, because you really are – but only for him. “You close?”

“Yes – yesyesyes, please, just a little more, touch me please.” Your voice is muffled against his hand, his fingers, but he can hear you just fine. Pale’s jeans chafe against your ass, your knees shake and body tenses, the pit of fire in your stomach rolling through your body. Your nipples are stiff, so stiff against your bra and the friction there makes your cunt clench, tears starting to well up in your eyes, if you don’t come soon you’ll be in pain from how good it all is.

“Only because you ask so pretty.” He groans, coating his fingers with your spit for a moment or two longer, before lowering them to quickly rub harsh circles on your clit while he fucks you to completion.

“Oh!” Your knees turn in and your body goes limp with pleasure as your nerves tingle and sing up and down your spine, soaking his cock with your come.

He relishes the feeling and soon after you feel the hot splash of his come filling you up, pumping into you. Pale always did have such a big load, you’re almost disappointed that you won’t get to keep it safe for him all day – that dirty secret leaking out of your pussy while you served coffee was one of your favorite thrills.

This was good though, just this, just Pale, the two of you in the empty and quiet diner. Neon spots dance in front of your eyes, as Pale slows to a lazy languid pace, milking your orgasms for all they’re worth.

“Mmmm, thank you.” You sigh dreamily, pleasure like pepsi-cola bubbling and fizzing your brain, your nerve endings when his hips finally come to a stop.

“Don’t go thankin’ me for nothin’, we’re only getting started.” Pale stubs his cigarette out in one of the little ashtrays on the counter, and eases his cock out of you. You stretch and pop your joints, pulling your panties up and feeling thoroughly used in the best way, especially when he pinches your chin and kisses you with, “Now howsabout that coffee?”

“’Fraid we’re all out.” You lie, seeing that the clock struck one, your shift officially over.

Pale grins, kisses you once more and takes your hand, guiding you from out of the milkshake bar on wobbly legs.

“You’ll just have to come home with me then pretty girl,” Pale grabs that leather jacket of his and slings it around your shoulders when you make it to the front door, “We’ll get somethin’ brewin’ real quick.”

And if the third shift girls notice anything funny about you when you pass them in the parking lot, well, you’ve got the whole day off tomorrow to avoid their questions, spendin’ it with your man, your VSOP, instead.

#pale x reader #pale/reader #pale x you #pale/you #burn this #burn this broadway #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver burn this #adam driver pale #adam driver fanfiction #adcu #pale imagine #pale smut #pale fanfiction #my writing #kinktober 2020

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caravaggiosbrushes · 3 years

Note

"what would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?" + Fitzier (this prompt screamed to me about them, especially considering your earlier hate sex/dub-con fics😏)

Thank you for the prompt!! Fitzier with a final twist... ;)

James is pinned to the wall by Francis’ fingers, buried into him.

He’s having trouble keeping quiet, but he doesn’t want to give Francis the satisfaction of seeing him even more helpless than this. He’s trying his best to look unmoved by Francis’ assault, but it’s quite hard to maintain a straight face when the Captain keeps curling his fingers in such a perfect way, rubbing at that spot inside of him, making him see stars behind his eyelids.

He bites down on his bottom lip to keep the moans in his throat.

"Francis–"

"Don't call me Francis," he growls, "You'll call me what I'm due, especially when I'm having you."

James presses his forehead against the wall, hoping the pain will bring some of the pleasure away so he will be able to think again, but Francis licks a strip of skin behind his ear and he almost sobs out loud.

"What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?" Francis whispers in his ear.

James trembles at the word, but forces himself to tsks. "No one would believe you."

"And yet here you are." Francis remarks, "Dripping on my fingers like a dirty little girl."

He’s not dripping– it's the oil Francis used to ease the way. It’s not him. He wishes it were him, but that’s impossible, he knows it all too well. Still, being so drenched makes the illusion easy to believe, because he knows he’d be more than wet for Francis right now, if he’d have the anatomy of a lady.

"You're so bloody tight," Francis grunts, his lips against the side of his face, "One could almost think you're a virgin."

James bites at his own hand, to shut himself or choke.

"But you're far from being a virgin, that's for sure," Francis goes on, viciously working him open, "With all the pricks you've taken to climb your way up here."

James can force himself to accept many things: Francis making fun of him in front of Sir John and their officers, Francis being drunk beyond measure every single time they meet, and he can stay silent when Francis glares at him from across the table, silently telling him he doesn’t belong here; but he won’t stay quiet when Francis talks like this about his career, because Francis doesn’t know.

"Do you want to know how many men I’ve had before you?" James asks back, feeling his vision turn red with rage, "so many. I couldn't recall the number if I'd try.” He turns his face toward Francis as best he can, to catch his eyes, “I let all of them fuck me sensless, and they were so good, all of them, giving it to me exactly like I wanted it–"

"Stop it."

"–giving it to me like you never can, since you can barely get it up–"

"Shut up." Francis snarls, pressing him against the wall, "Don't you have an ounce of shame?"

"No,” James grins, feeling out of his own mind. "They've fucked it all out of me."

He hits Francis in the ribs with his elbow, which has him take his fingers out of him too harshly, but it doesn’t matter, he can endure this pain too, because the angry euphoria of seeing Francis bent in half at his feet is enough.

James pushes his hair away from his face, towering over him.

"You're only jealous you weren’t the one having me first."

“How dare you,” Francis has a hand pressed to his side and glares at him with burning fury in his eyes. The hard line in his uniform pants makes him look even more dangerous, his prick like something made to split and tear apart.

He tries to get back to his feet, but James stops him with a hand on his chin, grabbing it harshly. Francis’ eyes widen in surprise.

“You insolent kid.” He says.

“Your age doesn’t make me a kid.” James feels aflame with power. Is this what Francis feels, every time? He almost excuses the way he treats him. Almost.

His pants are half pushed down, but still hiding his aching prick: he palms himself generously through them, noticing how Francis can’t seem to stop looking at him. He lets go of a heavy breath that ends in a moan, filling the room. Francis’ lips part on their own.

James pushes his thumb against them.

“Open up.”

Francis looks shocked for a moment, then outraged, as if he’s about to get to his feet and punch him, just like that. Then, he lets James push his finger into his mouth.

“Isn’t this better?” He asks, “A little bit of quiet.”

He presses down on Francis’ tongue and brings his free hand in his pants, wrapping it around his cock.

Francis bites lightly at his thumb and sucks hard at it, eyes huge, trained to the shape of James’ hand moving underneath the fabric.

“Like this,” James says, “Suck me off.”

Francis grasps at the fabric of James’ pants, a look of confusion, fury and lust in his eyes. He lifts his gaze on James and all but spits his finger out of his mouth, “Then bloody let me.”

“Hush.” James silences him with his thumb again, “You always make it look like a terrible hardship when you do it– if you do it at all–ah,” he makes sure to moan loudly, “so I’m sparing you the torment. You should thank me.”

Francis looks utterly betrayed. He moves away from James’ hand, “Fucking Hell, just let me–”

“No.”

He’s proud of how hard and steady his voice comes out, as if seeing Francis like this, on his knees, desperate to have him, is nothing.

James pushes his index and middle fingers into his mouth this time, making sure to spread saliva on his chin with his thumb.

Francis grasps at his pants and sucks at his fingers, breathing loudly through his nose. He almost whines when James start fucking his own fist, his hips so close to Francis’ face.

“Don’t touch yourself,” James orders, when he notices one of Franics’ hands going to his groin, “You never let me touch myself when I do this.”

Francis squeezes his eyes shut and gives him a murderous look when he opens them again. But he does as told.

James makes sure to move his fingers in his mouth in time with his hips and it’s not long before Francis helplessly grasps at his wrists, moaning something around his mouthful.

“You have something to say?” James asks, trying to hide how breathless he is.

Francis nods urgently.

James slips his fingers free. “Speak up.”

“At least,” Francis’ voice is hoarse, “Finish on my face.”

James slams his fist against the wall. “Christ, Francis–”

“Please.” Francis says, breaking character, “Give it to me, James.”

Hearing and seeing Francis like this makes him lose his words, so James just pushes his pants and boxer down, the cold air of the room a shock on his burning skin.

“Christ, yes.” Francis pants, reverently, staring at his straining erection, “like that, love, let me see you when you come.”

He picks up the pace of his movements. “Francis–”

“Finish on your Captain’s face.”

There’s no way James can keep his eyes open through his orgasm, not with how good this feels, but he makes sure to open them as soon as the first wave of pleasure is dissipating.

He made a mess of Franics’ face: there are ropes of white all over, most of it ended up on his right cheek, but there’s a bit of it in the streak of hair that has fallen on his forehead too. He’s panting and cleaning himself with his hand, licking it clean like a cat would do.

James still has no words, so he all but drops to his knees and kisses him hard, swallowing Francis’ moan and his own come down.

“You’re so hot like this,” James pants on his mouth, feeling both ready to pass out and do it all over again, “I’m gonna suck you off.”

“James,” Francis groans on his lips and lays down, bringing James with him. “I’ll not last– watching you is always too much.”

James sucks at his tongue wishing he could kiss and touch him everywhere at the same time.

He hastily moves down, opens his pants, doesn’t even waste time by undressing him, just takes him out and God yes, yes, the way Francis tastes, the way he pulses into his mouth when he’s so close, it’s everything. James forces his throat to accept him and hungrily swallows around him.

“James– Oh–”

He doesn’t stop sucking at him even once he’s finished, keeps lapping at his gorgeous cock until Francis makes a noise in the back of his throat and tries to push him away.

“Told you you would have looked so good in my Captain’s uniform.” James smiles on his lips, playing with the hair at the back of his neck. “God, you’re so hot when you play angry.”

Francis pushes his nose against his, with his eyes closed, still blissed out by his orgasm.

"How the hell did you make them hate each other in the beginning?” He asks, breathless, "if this is when they couldn’t stand each other I can't imagine what the rest of your book is like."

“You know,” James moves a hand around, "Victorians."

He stretches back to get the Captain’s hat from where it has fallen while they were pushing and pulling at each other, and puts it on himself, smiling dazedly.

“How do I look?”

“I’m the Captain, don’t forget it.” Francis steals it from him with a smile. “Don’t be insubordinate now, or I’ll have to punish you.”

James pushes his face in Francis’ hair, breathing heavily. “God, please.”

“James, my back is already killing me–”

“Will you spank me? Will you put me over your knees, in your lap?”

“I’m not sure that was the way–”

“I can wear that white skirt you like so much–”

Francis pushes himself up to stand in the blink of an eye.

“Bedroom, let’s go.”

James bursts out laughing, his heart full with everything he feels for Francis.

...it’s set in my tinder AU!!! look at these two roleplaying!! DORKS!!!!

( send me a prompt and I’ll write you a short fic! )

#writing #my writing #fitzier #james fitzjames #the terror #francis crozier #ask #jurian is a cinnamon roll

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monabela · 3 years

Text

who wants some corny slice of life lietpol? the answer is me! because I had not written anything yet this year and it felt Bad. I might do more of these little..... moments, for other pairings. it’s a fun exercise in characterization.

sunshine (once again)

characters/pairings: Lithuania (Tolys)/Poland (Feliks) word count: 1800 summary: On a sunny spring day, Feliks can only be glad of where he is right now.

Feliks draws idle shapes on his sketchpad, tracing shadows as they pass through the sunlight. The shadow of the brim of his hat is the base—he imagines it’s the surface of a new planet that he can populate as he wishes.

Irrevocably, though, his eye is drawn away from what is supposed to be work and across the small tiled terrace in the backyard, to where Tolys is humming under his breath and kneeling amid the flowers, carefully digging holes for new ones and removing weeds. There is sunlight in the man’s hair, bringing out both the deep gold and emerging silver among the brown strands. His dirt-caked hands are careful with bulbs and flowers, and quick with weeds.

Looking back down, Feliks draws a vaguely humanoid shape on his sketchpad, which he really shouldn’t be doing because it’s expensive, professional paper, but, well, this sheet is already wasted either way, so he can’t do further harm. It’s relaxing.

Tolys interrupts his humming.

“Oh no, you don’t,” he says, gently. “Get out of here. Go home.”

He’s shooing the neighbor’s cat away when Feliks looks, waving his little spade at it.

“Come on, go on. No, I don’t have anything to eat for you.” Helplessly, he looks over at Feliks when the cat drops itself to its back without preamble as if it’s asking for pets. Feliks sketches an amused little wave and gestures at his nose. Tolys shakes his head, unimpressed but amused.

Well, it is true that Feliks doesn’t usually let his allergies deter him from petting any cat. Or dog. He’s not picky. He just doesn’t feel like getting up right now.

“Get,” Tolys tries again, to the cat. And then, “Well, fine.”

After he pets the cat for four seconds, the animal jumps up and races away, leaving his hand hovering in mid-air. Feliks snorts.

Then innocently looks at his ridiculous drawing so he only hears Tolys’s answering huff.

Before long, the large sheet of paper is just about full of nonsense—although Feliks made an effort at the last moment to at least do some experimental sketches of buildings one might find on this planet of his. Just as a thought exercise. He’s pretty sure the geometry doesn’t make sense on at least two of them.

Tolys, who has by now upgraded to whistling the same tune—or downgraded, maybe, Feliks couldn’t say—is patting the ground around the last sprout into place when he checks, reaching across the other flowers carefully. His sleeveless shirt shows off his shoulders, strong and tanned by the late spring sun. Feliks knows he has freckles there, which fascinates him because there are none anywhere else on his body as far as he’s aware.

A shadow falls over his paper.

“I thought you said you were working,” Tolys says, amused and standing in front of Feliks. He shields his eyes from the sun and tilts his head to look at the drawing.

“I did say that, didn’t I?” Feliks shrugs up at him, smiling faintly, and Tolys laughs brightly. When he swipes his hair away from his face, some dirt crumbles off his fingers to slide down his shirt, and he looks at his hands. Feliks shivers at the dirt under his nails. He can practically feel it.

“Remind me that we need gardening gloves.” Tolys picks at his fingernails.

“Got it.”

“I’ll go and wash this off, at least.”

Feliks nods, then puts his sketchpad on the bench next to himself and stands, pushing his hat back a little so he doesn’t hit Tolys in the face with it.

“Do you want some coffee after you’re done?”

“Yes, thanks!”

Waiting for him to take his old sneakers off outside and enter the house through the conservatory, Feliks follows him to start up the coffee maker in the kitchen. He stares absently at the gentle drip of fragrant coffee while the water runs in the bathroom, combing his fingers through his own hair where his hat has flattened it, until Tolys come back downstairs, wearing different clothes and with clean hands.

“Almost done,” Feliks mumbles. Tolys pulls their usual cups down from the cupboards.

When they both have their coffee, they go outside again. Tolys takes a banana as well, which he breaks in half to share with Feliks. Feliks, meanwhile, kicks his slippers off and sits cross-legged on the bench, turning his face to the sun for a moment before shielding it with the hat again.

“Are you done with the garden?” he asks Tolys.

“For now, yes.” He smiles at it over the rim of his coffee cup. “It’ll be beautiful come summer.” Resting his cup on his thigh, he flexes the fingers of his free hand, which, while clean, now look quite red and very dry. Feliks frowns, shoving the last piece of his banana into his mouth.

“Give,” he says, beckoning. Tolys startles and raises his eyebrows.

“What?”

“Your hands.”

“I’m holding—”

“One hand at a time.” Turning sideways on the bench, shifting the cushions on the wood a bit, Feliks grasps Tolys’s left hand, which is the one closest to him. The man doesn’t say anything, just smiles and cradles his coffee cup with his other hand.

Feliks tsks as he runs a thumb across the new calluses on Tolys’s index finger and palm, holding his hand between both of his own. Feliks’s fingers are small and pale compared to Tolys’s, graphite staining his left hand but the nails smooth and clean. He pushes his thumbs down gently at the base of the palm, sweeping one down over Tolys’s wrist, where his skin is soft and warm.

“I should really have some, ah, like, some hand cream,” he says absently, and Tolys smiles.

“This is good enough.” With the back resting on Feliks’s knee, his hand is limp while it is gently kneaded, only the fingertips curling inwards. Grinning, Feliks taps them with his own as if pressing piano keys, before moving on to Tolys’s fingers.

They’re always thoughtful, those fingers, gentle with flowers and sure with those old-fashioned fountain pens Tolys likes to use for work. They may not know how to play the piano or how to braid very well, but Feliks trusts them to touch him in a way he doesn’t trust many things to. Because Tolys knows when to stop, and Feliks has learned to tell him to do so in return. And to listen.

He warms Tolys’s fingers between his own in the sunshine until he’s satisfied that he’s comfortable and swipes his thumb over his wrist again.

“Let me guess, you want my other hand now,” Tolys says without looking at him, face turned to the sun and eyes closed.

“Well, you do use both of them.”

At that, he opens one mossy green eye to look at Feliks, inclining his head slightly.

“I use the right hand more.”

“All the more reason, then.” Feliks reaches across his body with both hands and grasps his right one, pulling it towards himself. Although Tolys laughs, it’s gentle, and he shifts just enough to be comfortable. He closes his eyes again.

Opens them.

“Don’t forget to drink your coffee.”

Oh, of course. Reluctantly, Feliks drops the hand to grab his coffee and drink it all quickly. He grimaces.

Tolys snickers, then closes his eyes again and looks perfectly innocent.

“Can’t believe you,” Feliks mutters, but he watches the smile curl around Tolys’s lips with warm affection anyway as he picks his hand up again. Despite the gentleness of the smile, it pulls at his cheek and the corner of his eyes, marking the skin with little lines that speak of something true.

“You keep drinking coffee,” Tolys says mildly.

“You keep buying this brand.” He ghosts his fingertips over the sensitive inside of his elbow, which makes him jump just a little, and laughs.

“Feliks.”

He just keeps smiling. It may be cheating a bit to tickle someone when being tickled himself makes Feliks extremely uncomfortable, but Tolys has assured him that he doesn’t mind, every now and then.

When Feliks is done with his right hand as well, Tolys opens his eyes again, looking a little bleary. He blinks, looking up at him from his slight slouch.

“Where did you learn that?” he asks, as if just now realizing what he was actually doing.

Feliks just shrugs. He honestly doesn’t know where he picked up half the things he knows—it just took him a long time to find his way in life, and he took a lot of detours to get there.

“Well, it’s nice.” Tolys turns his hand over to clasp his knee for a moment.

“I could do your head, too,” Feliks puts in, pretty sure he did a course where he learned about scalp massages once.

“Hm. You just want to get in my hair.”

“You like it when I do.”

In response to that, Tolys just smiles innocently. They’ve spent many evenings with Feliks silently braiding and re-braiding Tolys’s thick hair while he listens to music, the man’s head in his lap. Tolys will doze or read a book propped on his chest. It’s a kind of intimacy that suits them both perfectly, and gives Feliks’s restless fingers something to do.

“My head got quite sweaty, actually,” Tolys is saying now. “I meant to take a shower after dinner.”

“Then can I?”

He grins, nodding so that his hair sways against his jaw. Feliks doesn’t think it looks sweaty, but then, it’s harder to tell with Tolys’s dark hair than his own pale blond, which gets stringy very fast. He sometimes suspects that he is the main reason that Tolys keeps it at the length he does, which is fine by him.

Now, Tolys leaves his left hand resting on his knee and reaches over with the other to pick up his sketchpad. He holds it up as if inspecting the drawing.

“I’m quite curious about this, Feliks,” he says, raising his eyebrows.

“Yeah, so am I, really.” Looking at it again, it’s really just a mess, although those windows he drew in the corner are quite nice. Tolys laughs.

“I’m working, he says.”

“I made an attempt.”

“Hm.” With a lingering smile, Tolys hands the sketchpad over, drumming his fingers on Feliks’s leg once. Feliks plays an imaginary little tune on his knuckles in return.

The neighbor’s cat sits down right at the edge of the patch of new flowers, looking quite curious as well, but Tolys has closed his eyes again and doesn’t see it. Feliks puts his finger over his lips before pulling his pencil from behind his ear and adjusting his hat until it shadows the sketchpad again.

Maybe, he can get some actual work done before dinner.

#Hetalia #lietpol #aph poland #aph lithuania #pol's one of those characters I've started to appreciate more over time #I say that like there's lots of those #maybe den too #but yeah #these two have planted themselves p firmly on the ace spectrum in my mind #especially pol #he also got quite touch-averse compared to how I used to write him #but I feel like that fits him better #in other words he's me but instead of languages he knows maths #shrug emoji #w: 2500 #fin #u: human

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imemeyoumemeweallmeme · 3 years

Text

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

#long post #ask meme #quotes #twisted: the untold story of a royal vizier #jafar #aladdin #the princess #jasmine #sheherazade #sultan #roleplay #roleplay asks #roleplay meme #roleplay prompts #starters #roleplay starters

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thesculptedflower · 4 years

Text

A Firecracker

May I request a Riddler x reader, where they meet during a heist, and after taking hostages and what not, the Riddler nabs the reader as a prize too.

@craftyjellyfishcat

Note: I have to push the S1 Ed fic to tomorrow, I’m so sorry! Things came up at home, but it’ll be posted asap! Love you guys!

A Firecracker

’’Number 357!’’ The banker shouted, the queue moving painstakingly slowly. You glanced down at the number on your paper. 401. You sighed, prepping yourself for the next few hours you’d have to spend at the Gotham City Bank. You had fought your way up the cruel path of being a small business owner in Gotham, where basically anyone was a rival to you. People only look after their own gain, rarely wanting to see the neighboring business succeeding. You had faced many threats from businesses that were run by big and important families, but you didn’t lower your head. You fought back, even when they tried to burn down your place. It was a sloppy job, and they were quickly caught and brought to justice. Which was exactly why you were now queueing at the bank, the court had granted you a small fund to help you re-build. It felt good to be aided, but it also painted a huge target to your back.

It didn’t make you scared or paranoid, but it sure made you even more courageous to push back those who tried to bring you down. You knew you had it in you.

You had lost the track of time, when a small explosion pulled you from your thoughts. People were screaming and running all over the place, but nobody saw anything or anyone. The heavy safety doors sealed all the exits and people were starting to panic more and more. Suddenly all the lights went out, except for one. The light shined above the staircase to the second floor, and under it was a tall man in a green suit. The Riddler.

You tried to find a way out of the room, but the darkness around you made it impossible.

’’Fear not, dear citizens of Gotham!’’ Riddler announced extravagantly. ’’I’d like to play a game.’’

Some of the people screamed, causing even more fear in the others. ’’SILENCE!’’ Riddler shouted, clearly agitated that his speech was disturbed. His deep voice quickly filled the whole space. ’’If any of you try to run, I’ll press this trigger, that will let out a toxic smoke. If you get all three questions right, I’ll let you live.’’He explained, showcasing the trigger inside his jacket. You stayed as low as you could, trying to slowly make your way closer to him. You weren’t the strongest, but you thought you could distract him long enough for the police to arrive.

’’None of you shall be harmed, but only if you answer correctly to these three simple questions.’’ He was smiling like a maniac, walking down the stairs step by step, holding a gun in his hand. If you only could get that gun. ’’Let’s begin!’’ He shouted, the people below him shaking from the pressure. ’’I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?’’

There was a short silence, before people started whispering to each other, trying to come up with the correct answer. You were quick with your thinking, but you didn’t want him to notice you were getting closer to him. ’’An echo.’’ You whispered to a person next to you and kept walking.

’’An echo!’’ The person shouted, lowering his head afterwards to avoid being seen properly.

’’Excellent!’’ Riddler exclaimed joyously. ’’You see a boat filled with people. It has not sunk, but when you look again, you don’t see a single person on the boat. Why?’’

Whispering began once again, accompanied with a few desperate cries. This one was harder, but you came up with the answer in time, once again whispering it to the person nearest to you. ’’They’re all married!’’ They answered.

’’Correct once again. Maybe I chose the wrong bank.’’ His smile wasn’t faltering, he was so sure of himself, so confident.

You were almost at the base of the stairs, ready to jump for his gun any point now. You knew he had the higher ground, but you had to take the chance.

’’I have keys, but no locks and space, and no rooms. You can enter, but you-.’’ He started, but was interrupted by your sudden attack. You jumped out of the crowd aiming for his gun, but unfortunately for you, he had seen it coming miles away. He was surprisingly quick with his moves, ceasing you by the arm before you could even lay your hands on him. Now that you were forced to face him, you noticed how dark and dangerous his features were. The black bowler hat casted a sinister shadow on his face, making the already dark brown eyes seem even darker. The strong glasses framed his face perfectly, highlighting the strong jaw and high cheekbones. You didn’t want to admit it, but you were taken aback by how good he looked. And he was so intelligent, he saw right through you.

’’Like what you see?’’ He teased, a cocky grin playing on his lips. You could feel a blush rising to your cheeks, but thanks to the poor lightning, it wasn’t too obvious.

’’A little firecracker I see, daring to interrupt me in the middle of the last riddle, tsk tsk.’’

He was menacing, but you weren’t scared yet. You knew he loved his riddles, and he wanted to know if this poor audience could get away from him.

’’Now if you please, let’s rise our bets a little, shall we.’’

He made you stand perfectly still on one of the steps and aimed the gun at your head. It made few people shriek, but you tried to motion them to be calm with your hands. The Riddler watched you silently communicating with them and let out a quick laughter. ’’Now would you look at that, what a heroine we have in our midst.’’ He said moving to stand behind you, and you swore you could feel his eyes on you.

’’I’ll ask this one final riddle, and if you get it right, you’ll all get to go home.’’ He continued. ’’But, if you get it wrong.. Bang.’’ He pretended to shoot you in the back of the head. ’’She goes first.’’

People were crying and getting more panicked, but you remained calm.

’’Only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain, doing no harm and feeling no pain. What am I?’’ He almost whispered, him being so close to your ear send goosebumps down your arms. You concentrated, forcing yourself to think of an answer.

’’Is this too hard for our savior?’’ The Riddler teased, moving to speak to the other side of your head. ’’Time’s running out, and I’m right here, shadowing you.’’

That’s it.

’’A shadow.’’ You said almost too quickly.

You could feel the grin he had on his lips. ’’Well done, but unfortunately I can’t leave with empty hands.’’

You didn’t have time to comprehend his words before you were muffled with a cloth that smelled like, chloroform.

* * * * * * *

When you woke up, you felt like you were hit by a truck. The room was small and dimly lit, and you sure as hell didn’t recognize it. You panicked a little and tried to sprung up from the bed, only to realize that you were tied down, only one hand free.

’’Easy there, we don’t want you breaking anything.’’ A familiar, though more soft, voice said from somewhere in the room. Your eyes darted around, trying to find the source. A tall figure stood next to a kitchen counter, pouring two cups of coffee. He was wearing an ordinary flannel, and didn’t seem threatening at all. You had your guesses, which were proven right as he turned around. For some reason, you didn’t feel scared anymore.

’’Coffee?’’ He asked, setting the cup on the night stand next to the bed. You followed his every move with your eyes as he sat down to the end of the bed, carefully sipping his own coffee. Neither of you said a word for a while.

’’You told me the answer.’’ You said first. Riddler lifted his brown eyes to yours, smiling genuinely this time. ’’That I did.’’

’’Why?’’

He let out a soft laugh, shaking his head a little.

’’You were telling the right answers to the others, trying to distract me from following you in the crowd. I wanted you to survive. You’re, different.’’ He explained, stirring his coffee with a spoon. The smell was delicious, and it was harder to protest the growing need for the coffee.

’’It’s my own blend, a little chocolatey and not too dark.’’ He said suddenly, reading you like an open book. You could feel yourself blushing again as you carefully reached for the cup. The aroma was heavenly, and so was the taste. In a different situation, you would have loved to spend time with a guy like him. ’’It tastes amazing.’’ You whispered, hesitant to compliment him. He smiled in return before standing up slowly, careful not to frighten you. He pulled out a key from his pocket and freed your other hand. Your eyes were looking for an answer, even if your mouth didn’t ask.

’’You trusted me enough to drink the coffee, I’ll trust you enough to let you go.’’

Almost immediately you jumped out of the bed, but the effects of the chloroform were still pretty heavy on you, causing you to almost fall to the floor. You weren’t sure if you were lucky or not, but you were caught by the arms of your capturer. He held you so gently, it really felt like he didn’t want to harm you at all. You stared up at his brown eyes, trying to find a reason why you felt this way. Why were you so okay with being in his arms, this close to him. You could smell his cologne, and you liked it. You knew it was wrong, so why did it feel so right.

He helped you back to the bed, where you took the coffee cup to your hands again. It was still warm. ’’Why are you being like this?’’ You asked carefully. He sat down next to you, now closer than before, but you didn’t move away.

’’I don’t really know, having you here brings out parts in me that I thought I had lost.’’ He answered quietly, showing a more vulnerable side of him. You turned to look at him and for a moment you could see a totally different person looking back at you.

’’But I do understand if you want to leave.’’ He continued, turning to look down at his cup.

’’I think I’ll stay, for a while at least.’’

You were totally out of your comfort zone, but you weren’t afraid of it. Maybe all those fights and struggles were preparing you for this moment. This moment you shared with one of the most dangerous man in Gotham. And you were okay with it. He wasn’t dangerous, not to you anymore.

#edward nygma #edward nygma x reader #edward nygma x you #edward nygma x y/n #The Riddler #the riddler x reader #the riddler x y/n #the riddler x you #Cory Michael Smith #gotham series #Gotham #gotham fanfic #gotham imagine

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the-demelza-robins · 3 years

Text

american high school!jily part five: of explanations and apologies

hello!! SO sorry this has taken so long, thanks for sticking with me! here’s chapter five :) you can also read it on a03 if you want!

Petunia comes back for Thanksgiving with a declared major and a boyfriend. The major — nursing — is to be expected; the boyfriend, however, is not. His name is Vernon. He’s stocky and short and smells like cigarettes. They sit in the living room — Petunia and Vernon, Mom and Dad, Lily — in near silence.

Finally, Lily speaks. “How’s school?”

Petunia flicks an invisible piece of lint off her pencil skirt. “Fine.”

“What are you majoring in, Vernon?” Lily’s mom asks.

His lips spread across his face and it takes Lily a moment to realize that this is what his smile looks like, reptilian as it may appear. “Finance.”

“Vernon’s very good at it. He’s a senior, you know.”

“A senior?” Lily blurts out before she can stop herself. “In college?”

Vernon shoots Petunia a look, like who the hell is this girl, and Petunia responds with a grimace before turning back to her sister. “In college, Lily.” She spits Lily’s name like it’s poison.

“It’s just —”

Lily’s mom glares at her.

A knock sounds at the front door, and Lily springs up to get it, surprised to find James standing on the doorstep. It’s been drizzling out, and he doesn’t have a coat, and for a second Lily feels like she must get him warm, give him a blanket at least, but then he smiles and wipes droplets off his glasses and offers the bouquet of flowers he’d been holding.

“From my mother to yours.”

“Huh?”

“I think they’re on the PTA together, hit it off. She wanted me to bring flowers to the Evans household.” He looks over her shoulder, into the house. “Is this a bad time?”

From the living room, Lily’s mom calls, “Who’s there, Lily?”

Lily sends a panicked look in James’s direction. “Um. James — James Potter?”

“Don’t leave him out in the rain,” her mother calls, scolding, almost, and Lily can imagine, with frightening clarity, the look Petunia’s giving Vernon right now — the Lily’s always been different, socially awkward, just my silly sister, glad you found me and not her…

“You okay?” James asks, brow furrowing as his eyes search her face. “I can come back.”

“No, sorry, just spaced out for a second. Come in,” Lily responds, shaking herself slightly and taking the bouquet. “They’re pretty.”

“My mom wanted to send, um, lilies and petunias, but I talked her out of it,” he admits, hands in pockets as he follows her through the foyer and into the kitchen, where she starts looking for a vase.

“Thank god.”

“Thank James,” he teases, hopping up on the kitchen counter, and this is something he’s always been infuriatingly good at, James: acting like he’s at home wherever he is. Tricking her into feeling comfortable, even when she’s not.

For a second — brief second — Lily imagines what it would be like to stand between his knees and kiss him. She dismisses the thought. Finds the vase. Fills it with water from the kitchen sink and cuts the flowers’ too-long stems and arranges them in a pleasing way. James watches and doesn’t speak.

She’s run out of tasks, now, so she turns to face him. “That calc test is going to give me a migraine.”

He smiles, something weak in it. It occurs to Lily, horrified, that he may not want to be here, with her; that he may have come in because her mother insisted that he do so, that he’s been waiting to leave this entire time. After all, why would he want to spend time with her? They’d been friendly at school, sure, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see her outside of it. She opens her mouth, closes it: how does one say “you can leave, if you want” without sounding like a complete jerk? Besides, she wants him to stay. She’s not sure of many things, but that she’s sure of. She would exchange James’s palpable silence with Petunia’s any day.

“Is your sister here?” he asks, tracing a finger along the faux-marble lines of the countertop. She tries her best not to keep staring at his hands. Why is she staring at his hands?

“Yeah, she’s home for Thanksgiving. With her boyfriend.” Lily can’t hide the displeasure that coats those last few words.

James raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather she stayed single?”

She shrugs, leans against the opposite counter. The Evans’ kitchen isn’t huge — more like an afterthought, removed from the rest of the first floor — and only a few feet separate them. “He’s just… three years older than her. And so boring.”

He laughs at that. “Maybe he’s not boring to her.”

Lily leans forward conspiratorially. “Want to know a secret?”

“What?” he whispers, head tipping towards hers.

“I think she likes that he’s boring.”

James makes a face. “What’s the fun in that?”

“I know, right?”

“Lily?” A new voice.

Lily turns so fast that she can feel her neck crack, just a little bit. Her mother now stands in the doorway, apron over her nice dress, eyeing the flowers and the boy who brought them. “Hello, James.”

“Hello, Ms. Evans,” James says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. That confidence, that sense of self, falters under Laurel Evans’ gaze — she’s been known to have that effect.

That is, at least until she tilts her head, smiles. “How’s your mother?”

He grins back. “Great, yeah. Having a bit of a gardening moment.”

“Looks like it. The flowers are wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like them.”

“Stay for dinner?”

Lily looks at her mother in shock, but the woman doesn’t even cast a glance in her direction. James does, though, and for a second Lily swears she can read his mind. It goes like this: he raises an eyebrow, and she responds with a shrug, and he thinks for a moment (fingers still tracing those marble-countertop lines, Lily can’t stop watching them move) and then nods, and says, “If you’d have me, that would be great.”

“You’d better get out of the kitchen, then. You can visit with Petunia and Vernon?” Here, Laurel’s eyes shift to her daughter. “Or Lily can show you the house?”

Lily’s never been like her mother, not really. Appearance-wise, Lily’s hair is too red and her eyes are too green and her hips are too wide. Personality-wise, her voice is too soft, her confidence too fallible, her way of being too unobtrusive. Laurel and Petunia: two peas of the same pod, but here, now, when Laurel glances at Lily, gives her an out, another option, anything better than spending more time with her sister — now, Lily realizes that her mother may understand her better than she thought.

“I’d love to see the house, Lily,” James says, mischief in his eye, knowing what he knows, now, about her annoyance with Petunia.

“Wonderful,” Laurel says. Wind blows against the windows as she and Lily swap places, as James hops off the counter, as he follows Lily out.

***

The Evans residence is not a mansion, not in any sense of the word. Lily avoids the living room, where Petunia, Vernon, and Mark Evans still sit, making stilted conversation, but she shows James the home office, the first-floor powder room, the dining room where they’ll eat later. “Upstairs are just bedrooms,” she says, standing by the staircase, unsure what to do with herself.

“I bet you have a color-coordinated bookshelf,” James says, like he can tell by the freckles on her face or the way she walks or anything about her, really.

“Oh?” she replies, cocking an eyebrow. Standing on the first step of the staircase, they’re the same height.

“Yeah.”

“One way to find out.” And then they’re walking up the staircase, and into Lily’s room, and she has to blink. Has to reset. Because this — James Potter in her room — was never supposed to happen.

“No color coordination,” he tsks at her bookshelf, then sits on her desk chair. She takes the bed — it’s a twin, not big enough for the both of them. All is quiet as she watches him examine her desktop. She feels laid bare, vulnerable, as he looks at the pictures she’s chosen to frame.

“Halloween, freshman year,” he says, pointing at a photo of Lily and Marlene, dressed as emoji salsa dancers.

A dim memory surfaces. James, in a broad-rimmed hat and heeled boots. “You were a cowboy, right?”

“Yeah. Peter was my horse.”

She sees it, now: James, shorter and rail-thin, all sharp angles, drinking in Sirius’s kitchen. Seeing her. Shot, Evans? Her, wrinkling her nose, turning away. Her first real party, completely sober. “I bet he loved that.”

His expression darkens for a second, then he nods. Gives her an easy smile. Her skin’s prickling because the last time they were together for this long, they ended up kissing. And she’s not sure that’s an experience she wants to repeat. Well, part of her’s not sure that’s an experience she wants to repeat.

He turns back towards her desk, focuses on an old photo of her and Sev; one she’s debated cutting up and throwing away a million times. “I forgot you were friends with Snivellus,” he says, aiming for a light tone and missing the mark completely.

“It’s Sev.”

He turns back towards her. “Oh?”

“It’s Severus. Sev. Not Snivellus.” She needs to regain control of this situation, needs to put some barrier up; needs to remind herself that the boy in her bedroom, the one looking through her stuff, is still James Potter. Still too sharp to touch.

“He speaks quite nasally, though,” James says, smirking slightly.

“I think it’s quite a mean nickname to give someone,” Lily says, tone stiff. She sits up straighter, meets his eyes.

He looks away first, something like red coloring his cheeks. “I guess it is. Old habits die hard.”

It’s a concession — yes, a small one, but a concession nonetheless. She decides to match it with one of her own. “I keep thinking about Halloween.”

His gaze snaps back to hers, and it’s her turn to blush. “Not the — not that part. Before. When you asked me why I’m so, well, confusing.”

She can’t do this. Can’t unspool her thoughts, untangle them, arrange them neatly; can’t do it while looking at him, can’t do it while in her childhood bedroom, can’t unpack the mania and leave it for him to interpret, like some lost artifact.

But then she marvels at the fact that he’s here, that he’s listening, waiting patiently. And she decides that she can at least try.

“For the most of my life, I haven’t been on your side, James,” she finally starts, staring at her lap. “Sev was my only friend. I felt like he was the only one who got me, who truly saw me. Petunia didn’t; Mom and Dad tried but they were too busy. He was my only ally.”

At this, she dares to look up. He’s frozen, devoid of all color: a painting. An anomaly against these pink-painted walls.

“And — not to go into specifics — but he had a rough childhood. Rough home life. And you — you’ve always been so perfect, James. Smart. Charismatic. Um, handsome. You coasted through life, and you made his a living hell.”

“I didn’t coast through life, Lily,” James mutters, but it’s a moot point. She knows it, he knows it.

“It’s not your fault — the coasting, that is. Everyone knows you’re destined for — well, whatever you want, really,” she says, making some vague gesture towards the window, towards the world. “But it was a harsh contrast to Sev. You were perfect, and you were still bullying him.” A whisper, but he can hear it: “The perfection hurt the most, I think.”

He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “And then that night. Halloween. You asked why I was mad at you, and you didn’t remember. You didn’t remember all those days on the playground. You could just forget. It made me, well, mad.”

He clears his throat, but she’s not finished. “I know you’re not like that anymore. I overheard you in the stairwell, back in September, and it was nice of you to take the blame for the camera. And I know that Sev — well, he’s — he’s not really someone worth defending. But that’s where it gets hard. We were friends for a long time, and I’m trying — I’m trying so much to forget, to forget about our childhood and our moments together and the fact that, for so long, we were each other’s person. But it’s difficult, and your reaction was just salt in the wound.”'

The thought strikes Lily, belatedly, that she’s never told someone this much about her relationship with Sev. She wonders if confiding in James was a mistake, but dismisses the thought. She trusts him now, she realizes. She has no real reason to, not really; a shared math class, one Halloween night — these connections don’t inspire automatic faith. Yet still, his casual friendship over the past month, the way he blends into her home life: these small interactions make her confident that he'll guard her secrets.

“Lily, I’m so —” he sounds stiff. Like he’s exercising a muscle long neglected. She hears his inhale, hears him start again. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I forgot on Halloween. I separate — I didn’t make the connection between you and Severus, Lily, because I’ve tried so hard to forget it. Reminding myself that Severus Snape knows you better than I ever will — it’s just too painful.” Another breath. “You’ve always been the one I wanted to impress. I was so jealous of Severus, Lily. When we were younger, I couldn’t believe that you chose hang out with him over me, but of course you did. You’re so good, Lily. We were assholes, we hurt people. I regret it all, now.”

The air stills. He looks up, then out the window. His glasses have fallen down his nose, and Lily feels the oddest urge to slide them back into place. “It’s okay,” she finds herself saying, because it really is. A textbook apology. She accepts it wholeheartedly. “I just wanted to explain.”

He nods, gaze slotting back to hers, something wonderfully familiar about it. “Your explanations are more emotionally taxing than the average girl’s, Lily Evans.”

She feels her mouth giving way to a smile. “Can’t ever do anything halfway.”

He chuckles quietly, face falling into unreadable territory yet again. “Right.”

Shit. “I would — I would like to be friends, though,” she offers tentatively. “For real this time.”

For a second she gets deja vu — that same proposal of friendship, his same smile, reappearing now, a month ago on Halloween. “That’s a relief.”

“And James?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t — I need you to know — I don’t see you as that elementary school kid anymore, okay?”

His grin stretches even wider, but before he can respond, Laurel Evans knocks on the door, telling them that dinner’s ready.

Lily can’t help noticing that, as they leave her bedroom, James is standing up straighter than he did before. Can’t help noticing that she is, too.

#jily #jily fanfiction #james potter #lily evans #jily fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #petunia evans #mauraders #high school!jily #james x lily #James Potter x Lily Evans #mine #My writing

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whump-town · 4 years

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Please...

“Get it out” • No More • “Stop, please”

Sitting in this hospital, she can’t help but gravitate closer to him. It’s a need born out of the chill in the room and the white walls that feel nearly claustrophobic. As if the whole world is in this waiting room with them. His side is warm and he doesn’t so much as blink in response as the sides of their bodies lean into one another.

Her left leg bounces to a beat of its own drum while he flips through a magazine.

The doctor comes out and tells them their witness can be questioned but to keep it short. She can’t tear her eyes off of his face as his voice comes out a little wrong but he nods and motions for Emily to follow him back. It’s not until later, two days later, when she watches him take two steps back when JJ passes by him a little too close, shoulder’s threatening to brush, that her throat gets a little tight.

Because Hotch doesn’t like people close and she’s found herself the exception to the rule.

She tries it again on the jet and blinks stupidly when he just glances at her and resumes reading his file. As if it’s nothing at all. Like it’s not crazy he’s letting her corner him in the seats. Because he likes the window seats, always has, but doesn’t like being cornered between the window and the aisle seat. The aisle seat she’s just taken.

Pulling her legs up into her chair, tucking her head atop her knees, she stares at the table and wonders what exactly this means.

He’s doing the same.

Then New York happens and brushed shoulders and aisle seats on the jet equate to nothing when he looks at her with those hollow eyes. He’s shaking and she can’t tell if it’s pain or exhaustion wearing his eyelids down but he won’t sleep here, not tonight. So they just sit here, on his hotel bed, facing one another on opposite sides of the bed, with their legs drawn up, and their heads resting on the wall.

“You okay,” she asks under her breath. It’s raining hard. Her father had always said the rain was the Earth’s way of cleaning itself up. The same way crying in the shower helps wash the blood away. “You’re starting to look pale, again.” She’d all but broken into his room so he wouldn’t be alone tonight, out of her own fear of his injuries being worse than they thought and knowing that he shouldn’t be alone.

He just looks at her.

And she’s thinking about the street and the SUV. The way the rain is probably washing Kate Joyner’s blood down into the sewer. The way the shower Hotch had taken had washed the blood from his coarse hair. He shivers, cold, but doesn’t say anything.

They never really say anything.

She’s not there to see him shout himself hoarse or to see the tears stinging his eyes as Benjamin Cyrus beats her. In the back of her mind, as his hits rain down, she finds comfort in knowing he’s out there. And it’s into his arms that she stumbles when that fucking building comes falling in around them.

“Don’t do that again,” he says into her hairline. His eyes are squeezed shut, he never sees the looks they receive from the others. Doesn’t care to wonder what they might even think as she shakes in his arms and he breathes-- he fucking breathes-- for the first time all day.

She looks up at him, those dark pensive eyes looking up at him like she’s looking for something. He swallows thickly and she smiles like she’s found it. “You couldn’t pay me enough,” she promises.

In October she gives him a book.

It’s stupid, really, but she sees him staring off into space on the jet. The kind of stare that just screams boredom. She goes to get another cup of coffee and just places the book in front of him. “It’s not a murder mystery,” she says, with a small shrug. “I like it, though.”

As he collects this book into his hands. Each word bleeds into his lap. The pages smell old and so unmistakably Emily. The Heart Is a Lonely Hunter, glancing at her back he wonders if those words are meant to mean something to him.

He supposes the book is gift enough and tries not to overthink her motives as he sets into the first chapter.

“He smiles more,” Reid deduces, as Emily takes her seat back beside the genius.

She regards him with a frown. He’s always been like her kid brother. She’s never had a brother before but she imagines his knowing smirk and the mirth in his eyes come with brothers. With a smile of her own, she wraps her hands around her mug and shrugs. “Who?” as if she look up to find Hotch already looking at her.

Reid shakes his head and looks back to his own book. Idiots.

Matthew dies.

Morgan pulls her into the hall, his grip tight on her elbow. She frowns at his touch, remembering the way Hotch had touched her like that. Not tight. Not frustrated. Morgan is both of these things as he lowers his voice and reminds her they have a job and she’s pushing her luck. His own anger seeps into his words and she knows she’s also taking some heat from him for the way Hotch acts around her. For the fact that Morgan would be chewed up and spit up for half the things she’s done today and Hotch can’t even meet her eyes.

She knows. She just doesn’t know what it means.

He finds her at the church.

She jumps. Flinching as she sees the dark silhouette of a man, it takes her only a second to realize it’s him. It’s the way he walks and the fact that he’s not wearing a hat even though the strong breeze whipping past them is sure to agitate his ears.

“You’re bleeding,” he states as he gets closer.

She stops the movement she sees coming, his hand rustling from where he’s tucked his arms to his chest. Running her hand under her nose she wipes the blood away. “Just a nosebleed,” she says, ducking her head from his intense gaze. He walks the rest of the way to her, turning on his heel to face the church. “He’ll never…” the words get stuck in his throat. A part of him feels broken, deep in the pit of his stomach. He’s reminded of his father, standing at the foot of his death bed and looking at his mother with those same words on the edge of his tongue-- “He’ll never come back.”

She leans into him, her hand creeping around his waist. She finds herself properly tucked into his side, her arm under his jacket and close and warm with his cologne filtering between them. “It doesn't matter,” she whispers.

He looks up at that church and knows that’s not true.

He blinks and the world is cold and bloody. His eyes are unfocused and his sweat is drenching his clothes to his body. Emily’s nowhere in sight and still, all he can do is think about her.

“Where’d you go,” Foyet asks, a sickeningly curious smirk on his lips. “Just now,” he explains, “I could see it in your eyes. You were thinking of something.” He draws the knife down Hotch’s chest, smiling when Hotch doesn’t even flinch. His chest hardly rising with his shallow breaths. “I think it was a someone. Oh please tell me it was a someone, Aaron.”

Hotch chokes, turning his head as Foyet presses the knife back in. Feeling the other man's breath down his neck. That breathless chuckle Foyet expels, chopped with his pants. It takes a lot to stab someone nine times.

Foyet sits back on his thighs as all of his attention goes into watching the knife pull from Hotch’s abdominal cavity. The blade’s thick and sharp and even on it’s way out Foyet can see it breaking Hotch’s pale skin. Parted in a sea of red that gets deeper and darker and he can’t help but to reach out and drag his finger along the stab wound's smooth edge.

“Aw,” Foyet grunts, standing up and shifting around so that he can better see Aaron’s face. He ‘tsks’ his own carelessness. “I’ve nicked something,” he grumbles, as if the blood trickle down Hotch’s chin is just mere inconvenience. It means his fun is over, his play-thing is dying. “And I practiced so hard--”

A key hits the lock.

The thick copper taste of his blood on his tongue is heavy. Breathing is becoming harder. His breath catches on that blood and he chokes, gagging uselessly around the intrusion. He’s too weak to call out to her. He sobs, tears trickling down his cheeks, as his vision goes black.

He just hopes she is better than him.

Stronger.

Faster.

Emily stands in the doorway of his apartment, the keys in her hand clutched tightly. “Aaron…” she can feel the chill in the air. The whole apartment doesn’t feel right. She’s been in there enough to know-- she knows Aaron well enough to know-- this isn’t right. “Aaron, where are you--”

She finds him.

“Aaron!”

He struggles hopelessly against bonds that aren’t there. His chest hitches, lungs making a terrible wheezing sound around the knife firmly embedded in his chest. Opening his mouth to call out to her, to warn her ends in a choked, gagged sound. His warm, hot blood clots at the back of his throat. All he can do is writhe, kicking out uselessly as the blood blocks his air.

His heart stammers in his chest…

Emily comes closer.

“No, don’t--” she catches his trembling hand. His fingers failed to grasp the knife's handle, no doubt trying to pull it out.

He shakes his head and manages to turn onto his side, coughing, and, this time, the blood comes up. It spills over the side of his face. A choked cough sending the flecks of blood up and over his lips. “Foyet,” he grunts, his eyes ghosting behind her. Unfocused, uncoordinated-- he lets out a broken sob.

“Shh, shh,” she can’t understand him. His panic and the blood loss… she can’t understand his terrified whisper. “It's okay,” she soothes. Her eyes glancing to the knife, the handle just barely visible, from where it sits flush in his chest. “It’s-- You’re--” she gasps softly at the way his blood flows just over her hands. Her interlaced fingers do nothing. The blood just…

She places more pressure against the wound.

He whimpers. A guttural sound, trapped against the back of his throat. “Take it--” he turns his head, tears spilling out of his eyes and over his cheeks. “Get it out,” he grunts, weakly pulling against her grup. “Please, get it out.” He can feel it pulling each time he inhales. Shifting on exhales.

“I can’t,” she whispers, her own tears falling. “I can’t take it out.”

There’s no time to consider why she’s here. Normally, she’d call ahead. A text. Even just a comment passed between them as a warning. Something she slips in or he mumbles. But those fucking pigs and that girl… he can’t say he blames her for stopping buy.

Pouring himself the drink that started it all had been his way of holding her close. The only way she could think to do the same was to come and really hold him. She just hadn’t expected to open the door to find nothing.

“You have--” his breaths become too labored. Too forced. “You have…” there’s the shallowest sound that comes from his chest. An exhale that’s barely there at all before his half-lidded eyes slide shut. A shaky, half exhale falling from his lips. Then nothing.

“Aaron,” she runs her hand up his chest. Her cold fingers tap against his cheek, attempting and failing to rouse him. “Oh God,” she pulls at him, panic rising in her chest. “Oh God, Aaron! Aaron, please!”

But he’s too far gone to hear her cries.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #spencer reid #david rossi #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #penelope garcia #whumptowninwhumptober #hotchniss #HotchxEmily

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