#Mistakes Were Made and they had Dire Consequences

[ja3yun]

Guilty as Sin Pt.2 | P.SH

ceo!sunghoon x assistant!reader warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, multiple orgasms, dom!hoon, oral (m.rec), deep throating, fingering, cum eating, power dynamics, spanking, window fucking, punishment vibes, he makes her lick his shoe, pet names (good girl, slut), slight degradation, slapping, no aftercare mentioned but implied (kinda), age gap (reader is 22 and hoon is 27), anything else lmk! w.c: 8.2k synopsis: after your boss heard you on the phone last night, it was time to face the consequences of your sins, however, he has something else in mind other than firing you. a/n: hi! it's the much requested second part and i need to tell you i got carried away with this. 6k of this is pure smut so it's kind of a pwp still. you can also read this as a stand alone if you really want to. i hope you guys love it and thank you so much for the love on the first part! as always, reblogs, likes, comments, and feedback are welcome

part 1

The door in front of you seems daunting, an imposing barrier that looms larger with every passing second. The air grows suddenly cold as a draught from the office behind it whooshes through the slits in the frame, sending a shiver over your body. You've been standing here for precisely 2 minutes and 12 seconds, the weight of your hesitation pressing down on you. The confrontation ahead feels monumental, the necessary action of knocking on the door an insurmountable hurdle.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. With your left hand, you awkwardly smooth down your charcoal pencil skirt. The fabric, meticulously ironed earlier this morning, clings slightly to your legs, stopping just above your knee. You adjust the waistband, ensuring your crisp white blouse is neatly tucked in. This is a constant ensemble you wear to your work and has been accepted and sometimes praised by others, yet today it doesn’t feel up to standard.

The coffee in your right hand was supposed to be a peace offering, a gesture to sweeten up your boss after last night’s…escapades. You had hoped the familiar aroma of his favourite brew would set a positive tone for the conversation. But the barista had made the wrong order, a careless mistake that left you with a cup of something less than ideal. With no time to wait for a replacement, you had rushed out of the shop, the seconds ticking away, and now here you are, standing at the threshold, the incorrect coffee staring at the door with you, a bubbling disappointment he will surely add to the list.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this. You were supposed to have a quiet night in with a glass of wine in one hand and a dildo in the other, not your boss possibly thinking that you’re a pervert. There is no way he didn’t hear you on the phone as you climaxed to his voice; it was so loud you think the old lady from three flats down could have heard you. 

As fucking amazing as the orgasm was - possibly one of your most star-bursting - it does leave you with dire consequences that you have to face right this instant. You’re already a minute past 6am and he isn’t going to be too happy about that.

Gathering every ounce of courage, you straighten your posture, shoulders back, head high. You take one final, steadying breath. With your heart pounding in your chest, you lift your hand, knuckles brushing lightly against the door, and tap firmly three times. The sound echoes in the silence, each knock a heartbeat, a countdown to whatever awaits on the other side.

The moments stretch interminably. You can almost feel the seconds dripping by, thick and viscous, each one a testament to your growing anxiety. Your grip tightens around the coffee cup, the warmth seeping through the thin cardboard sleeve, a small comfort against the chill that has settled into your bones.

“Come in.”

His booming voice filters through the oak door, startling you despite your knuckles alerting him of your presence. Although he has given you the go-ahead, you still don’t move for two beats, suddenly regretting the decision not to quit via email as soon as you cleaned the cum from your dildo and finished off the entire bottle of wine.

With a shaky breath, you force your legs to carry you forward. The door feels heavier than it should as you push it open, the creak of the hinges matching the tension coiling in your stomach. 

The office is modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows occupying one corner, offering a panoramic view of the cityscape. The rest of the room is a study in black and white - sleek, minimalist furniture and stark contrasts that give the space a sterile, yet sophisticated feel.

Behind a glossy wooden desk, your boss sits, his stern gaze fixed on you, making the room feel both expansive and claustrophobic at the same time.

“Good morning,” you manage to say, your voice sounding meek and uncertain. You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you with an ominous finality. Whatever happens, whatever reprimanding he is about to bestow upon you, there is no escaping.

Your boss doesn’t respond immediately. His eyes flicker to the coffee cup in your hand, a slight frown creasing his brow. “Is that for me?” he asks, his tone cool and unreadable. He knows you bring him coffee every morning but the hesitance in your step confuses him.

“Yes, Mr. Park, but I’m afraid it’s not your usual order,” you confess, stepping forward and placing the cup on his desk. The surface is immaculate, reflecting the cup and your trembling hands like a dark mirror. “The barista made a mistake and put oat milk instead of soya and a pump of vanilla rather than honey.”

He picks up the cup, his fingers brushing against yours briefly. The contact sends a jolt through you, a reminder of last night’s indiscretion, how you wished it was his hands all over you. He inspects the label, then takes a small, unsure sip.

Playing with the tips of your fingers and tapping your knees together briefly, you wait for a scolding, yet nothing comes from it. His face insinuates that he isn’t exactly thrilled by the taste, but he isn’t throwing it in your face or firing you, so, you relax a little.

He isn’t the type of boss who lashes out at you; rather, he keeps his calm in most situations. Even that one month when you scheduled all his June appointments for July and June was filled with May meetings. That day, he simply told you that you couldn’t leave the office until everything was finalized and settled; it was a long night.

Not looking at you, he goes back to typing something on his laptop, his face now back to that monotonous glare that gives zero indication of his feelings away. Was he mad? Confused? Disappointed? You could never know by his neutral expression.

You stand there awkwardly, shifting your weight from one foot to the other, awaiting further instruction. The silence stretches on, making the ticking of the wall clock seem unbearably loud. Usually, he has a list of things you should be doing, and to get you up and in the office early seems pointless if you’re just going to stand there in your gifted black, shiny heels - gifted by him nonetheless.

Finally, you clear your throat softly and speak up. “Your meeting is in three hours, sir. Did you want me to come in early to help or…?” You trail off, unsure how to proceed.

Mr. Park looks up expectantly, one eyebrow raised as he peers over his glasses. “Or?”

The single word hangs in the air, loaded with unspoken expectations. By the glint in his eye, it was clear he wanted you to continue, to confess to your sins, which means he did hear you come undone last night. If you could jump out of his office and onto the cold concrete 39 floors below, you would; it would be much less painful.

You feel a tint of warmth along your cheeks, head bowing in a sorry gesture. There is no way you can just turn around and say ‘Sorry about last night, it should be a compliment considering no other man or porn is able to get me off quite like your Instagram does’. That is a HR appointment waiting to happen.

So instead you stay silent, much to his impatience.

Once he realises you aren’t going to use your voice box anytime soon, he shuts his laptop over before sitting back in his chair, inhaling so deeply you see his chest rise under his white Prada shirt. 

As you take in his appearance, a pool forms between your legs. No matter how many times you see him in his work aesthetic; black fitted slacks, a white, tight fitted shirt, the black tie that he forms in a Windsor knot, and those silver framed glasses that you’re convinced are just for aesthetic and not functional, you still can’t control the lewd thoughts in you mind. His face with those perfect eyebrows and dark eyes only makes you draw closer to his face.

It’s worse when you’re both in a lift and you imagine it breaking down, clothes flying as you ravage one another-

“I think it’s time we had your supervision, don’t you?” Sunghoon’s question rips your attention away from your filthy thoughts and back to reality.

“But, Sir, I just had my supervision last month,” you recall. Every three months, Sunghoon calls you in to track your progress, give you direction on how to further progress as an employee, and list areas you can improve on. It is also a time to bring up any issues he might have with your performance.

Last month, like all the other supervisions you have dreadingly attended, had a positive outcome, with no complaints from your boss despite your mistakes. You’re beginning to think he might not be as harsh as he seems, the CEO stereotype of cold, mean, and detached sometimes clouding your perception of him. Sure, he can be scary, but isn't that true of every boss?

“I must have lost the file,” he says, sucking his teeth in a feigned apology. “Please, have a seat.”

Sunghoon gestures to the black leather chair across from him. His pupils expand, and his tongue swipes past his lips as you sit, crossing one leg over the other like you have many times before. Your skirt hikes up to mid-thigh, exposing more skin than is office-appropriate.

Sunghoon adjusts his glasses, peering down at some papers on his desk, scanning through them as if they contain all the questions he needs to grill you on. You know they don’t because he keeps all his files electronically; it's easier for him to find and navigate, plus he hates adding unnecessary pressure on the environment. You discovered his soft spot for the earth after he asked you to double-check his bank statement and you saw multiple transactions to various environmental charities.

“So,” he begins, reading the nonsense papers, “How do you think you’ve performed over the past few months?”

The questions are always the same, so you always answer them the same way; how Sunghoon wants them answered. “Good, Sir. I think I have made progress, but there is always room for improvement.”

“And what would you improve?”

“I believe my performance is steady, but it would be good to challenge myself. The opportunities you’ve given me to explore different departments have been invaluable. It could be beneficial to work closely with you and bring forth ideas in pre-meeting discussions between us.” You repeat what you said last month, just in a different order. Your boss loves it when you subtly praise him; it always causes his eyebrows to rise and a small, tight smile to grace his face.

Except this time, he smirks - a look he only adopts when he’s either about to obliterate someone in the boardroom or win an argument. Neither scenario fits your current conversation, leaving your mind swirling with uncertainty.

The atmosphere has turned thicker with heat. Maybe it's your own problem as you tighten the grip on your crossed legs, watching his large, veiny hands flick through a stapled booklet, sometimes licking his finger for grip.

Should you be looking at him like this after what happened last night? Probably not, but you’re just a woman with needs, and you crave Sunghoon to curb those needs as quickly as possible, no matter the working relationship.

But this is how you got into this mess - letting your thirst for him take over your state of mind. Now, you’re facing an unnecessary supervision that could lead to your termination or a department transfer. You work under Sunghoon as his assistant, but he has allowed you to grow and learn in ways a typical boss wouldn’t. Instead of fetching coffee and running errands, he’s included you in meetings, let you make some decisions, and introduced you to department heads, especially the graphic design team, the field you wish to progress into.

Perhaps that’s the source of the heated atmosphere - not your uncontrollable lust but your fear.

“And would you say you have a good working relationship with others at work?” he asks, his shoulders tenser than before.

This is a new question, one you haven’t rehearsed an answer for.

“Uh, yes?” 

He stops shuffling papers at your lacklustre response, clearly unimpressed, and gives you a moment to elaborate. “I mean, yes, I do get along with most people here. I try to maintain professionalism and have a healthy balance along with friendships.” It’s a generic answer, but mostly true.

“Do you think we have a good working relationship?” Sunghoon hasn’t looked at you this whole time, but you can see him fighting the urge.

“I believe so, Sir. I think we get along well and have a solid foundation built on respect,” you answer honestly, omitting the times you’ve thought about him in a less-than-professional light.

Sunghoon takes off his glasses, pushing his chair back slightly. “I see.” His words are sharp and contemplative, making your chest tighten. He’s absolutely firing you today, and he has every right to do so. He probably feels disrespected and disgusted by what he heard last night.

Circling his desk, he leans against the edge, his body now close to yours, radiating an air of dominance. You can feel the heat of his presence, the way his gaze pierces through you, making the room feel even smaller. 

This isn’t going to end well for you.

“So, what was it you used to get yourself off last night to the sound of my voice?” he asks, his tone low and menacingly curious.

The question hits you like a freight train. You choke on your own saliva, eyes bulging, mouth turning drier than a Ritz cracker without butter. Your heart pounds in your chest, echoing in your ears like a drum. You try to form words, but your mind is blank, overwhelmed by the sheer audacity of his question and the implications it carries.

Sunghoon's eyes narrow slightly as he watches your reaction, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. His demeanour is composed, but there's an underlying intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. He seems to relish your discomfort, his confidence only growing as he maintains eye contact, making it impossible for you to look away.

Your thoughts race, trying to find a way out of this situation. The room feels suffocating, the silence between you stretching endlessly as you struggle to regain your composure. The memory of last night flashes in your mind, the sound of his voice in the background as you gave in to your desires.

Sunghoon shifts slightly, his stance more relaxed, yet every movement is calculated, deliberately exuding power. He taps a finger on the desk, the sound sharp and precise, mirroring the tension in the room. His eyes glint with a mix of expectation and something darker, making it clear that he won’t let this go easily.

“Do you need a moment to answer, or should I repeat the question?” he asks, his voice dripping with mock politeness.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, and manage to find your voice, though it comes out as a hoarse whisper. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sir.”

He pokes his tongue to the side of his cheek, fighting the urge to smirk fully. “Don’t play coy with me. I heard everything. Now, answer my question.” 

Your mind scrambles for an escape, but there’s no way out. You’re trapped, cornered by his authority and your own actions. The room feels like it’s closing in on you, the tension thick with something unspoken. You know you have to say something, anything, to break the silence and diffuse the situation, but words fail you.

Sunghoon’s gaze remains fixed on you, unrelenting. “Well?” he prompts, his voice a dangerous whisper. He rolls up his sleeves devilishly slow, giving you a show of his veins and strong yet soft hands.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the inevitable. “It was a mistake, Sir. It won’t happen again,” you manage to say, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay calm.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with your response. “That doesn’t answer my question,” he says, leaning closer, his presence overwhelming as his eyes fixate on yours. “What did you use?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and oppressive. You can feel the weight of his expectations, the demand for honesty. There’s no escaping it. You have to confront this head-on, no matter how humiliating it is.

Taking another shaky breath, you finally confess, your voice barely audible. “I used a dildo, Sir.” You want the world to swallow you whole, to never see the light of day again because how could you possibly admit to that in front of the Park Sunghoon?

His smirk deepens, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “What size?” he asks, his tone almost casual but laced with a dangerous curiosity.

Your heart pounds even harder. Every beat is a reminder of the humiliation you’re enduring. “Six inches,” you whisper, your face burning with shame. Now your boss knows the size of your dildo. Great. 

Sunghoon's eyes gleam with a predatory satisfaction. “And was it me you were thinking about?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. The question pierces through the remaining shreds of your composure.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, feeling the weight of his stare. “Yes,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I was thinking about you, Sir.”

Sighing with feigned disapproval, Sunghoon crosses his arms and shakes his head. “Y/N, I am very disappointed in you.” That is the last thing you want to hear; the respect you have for him as a boss and a professional makes the words sting just a little bit more than if it was anyone else.

You bow your head in shame, rubbing your knee to comfort yourself against his harsh tone. “I’m so-”

“It should have been at least eight,” he interrupts, causing your eyes to snap to his, widening in shock.

His words hang in the air, and the implications send a shiver down your spine. He pushes off the desk and moves closer to you, his presence even more imposing. “You see,” he continues, his voice low and controlled, “if you’re going to fantasise about me, you should at least get the details right.”

Your heart races, the mixture of fear and anticipation almost too much to bear. Sunghoon leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “Now, let’s assess your performance. I expect complete cooperation from you moving forward. Understood?”

It’s a subtle way of asking your permission, knowing that once whatever is about to transpire in this office happens, there is no going back to your previous assistant and boss relationship, especially if his hungry eyes and your pulsing core have anything to say about the matter.

Nodding, you agree quickly, granting him your consent, but that isn’t good enough for him.

“Y/N, one thing that constantly comes up in these supervisions is your development of communication skills,” he says, tutting with a mocking glare. “Use your words.”

You take a deep breath, your pulse racing as you summon the courage to speak. “Yes, Sir. I understand.”

A satisfied smile crosses Sunghoon’s face as he takes in your words. “Good,” he murmurs. “Now, bend over the desk.”

You comply, standing up and leaning forward until your chest is pressed against the cool surface. Your skirt rides up, exposing your thighs, and the vulnerability of the position sends a shiver through you. 

The energy in the office is charged with anxiety and anticipation. The gentle hum of the air conditioner does little to alleviate the heat emanating between the two of you. The familiar surroundings suddenly feel exotic and infused with new vitality. The mixture of the light from the world waking up outside and the glow of his desk lamp creates an intimate, almost clandestine ambience.

Sunghoon’s imposing desk, usually a symbol of authority and professionalism, now serves as an altar for your transgression. The smooth, polished wood feels cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat coursing through your body. Papers and office supplies, once orderly and mundane, now seem like silent witnesses to the unfolding drama.

Sunghoon steps closer, his presence looming over you. The scent of his cologne, a mix of sandalwood and something distinctly him envelops you, mingling with the faint, clean scent of the office. His hand smooths over your exposed skin, gentle but possessive, sending goosebumps over your delicate skin. He hikes up your skirt so your ass is exposed and ready for the inevitable.

“You need to be taught a lesson, to help you improve your vocal skills, wouldn’t you say?” he asks, his voice a dark, seductive whisper that cuts through the silence.

Without warning, his hand comes down sharply on your ass, the sound of the slap echoing in the room. You gasp, the sting of the impact radiating through you. He doesn’t give you time to recover before delivering another smack, then another, each one firm and precise.

It’s electric and better than anything you could have conjured up using your imagination alone. His spanks are harsh but not unpleasant, each vibration of his hand to your cheeks rippling down to your core. It aches to be touched, wetness glistening over your folds to exhibit your desperation.

Pressing himself against you, you feel his bulge prominent against you. Fuck, you really did underestimate how big he was. Even concealed, you know he’s packing so much that your dildo pales in comparison. His hands now soothe your scarlet ass, giving you some relief.

However, the calm is short-lived. “You’re going to tell me everything you fantasise about, no detail left unturned. Got it?” His voice is dark, his breath warm against the back of your neck, and his lips so close to your skin that you almost whimper out in need.

You can’t believe this is happening. All those months of wishing he would touch you, spank you, punish you, praise you, and do literally anything to you are all coming to fruition right now. Maybe you should have slipped up earlier, maybe those chances to touch his thigh at meetings or drunkenly kiss him at work nights out would have gotten you in this position a lot quicker.

It does beg the question, how long has he wanted this? Has he thought about you at all in any way other than his assistant? Perhaps this is a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing or could he want you just as badly?

“Yes, Sir,” you answer his previous question, cheek pressed against the cool desk as your body heats up.

“Good,” he murmurs, his hands tracing over the redness of your ass, fingers brushing lightly against your skin. “Start from the beginning.”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “I fantasise about you, Sir,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly. “I think about you touching me, I want to please you in every way.”

His hand comes down again, a sharp reminder of his dominance as he leaves a lingering sting. “Be specific,” he demands. “I want details.”

Your mind races, trying to find the words because what haven’t you thought about? You have imagined him in every possible scenario; loving you, hating you, cuddling you, punishing you, and most importantly, fucking you into oblivion. Even last night, you thought about him punishing you exactly how he is right now. 

“Sometimes I-I think about you punishing me, spanking me until I cum,” you admit, your voice quivering with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. It feels incredibly dirty to vocalise your fantasies, yet Sunghoon seems more than thrilled by the idea you paint with your words.

He has always been the controlling type, commanding respect without arrogance, a quality that naturally makes people want to please him. Unfortunately, you've taken that want and twisted it into a filthy need.

Your boss delivers another firm smack to your ass, causing a gasp to escape your lips and a slick of your arousal to drip onto his polished shoe. He notices, but any reprimand is postponed; for now, he's focused on your communication skills to help you improve as an employee…of course.

Sunghoon’s touch is deliberate, each spank is a calculated act of dominance that leaves your skin tingling and your thoughts scattered. His hand moves with precision, alternating between stinging slaps and soothing caresses, creating a rhythm that both punishes and rewards.

He is nothing if not fair.

“Just spanking?” he teases, his fingers hooking into the band of your panties as he plays with it, feeling the lace on his skin. 

You quake at his touch, caught off guard by his question. His fingers toy with the delicate fabric, sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. The air around you crackles with tension, thick with unspoken desire and the heady scent of arousal. 

“No, Sir.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. This is the one time to make your fantasies come to life, whatever you tell him now will probably be what you receive. You need to make sure this is everything you truly want, it could be the first and last time. “I imagine your fingers inside of me, calling me a good girl as I cum.”

Sunghoon’s jaw tenses, eyes closing behind you as the dirty confession sends an electric current through him. His hand tightens on your panties, a possessive grip that both excites and reassures. His controlled demeanour cracks slightly, revealing a raw hunger beneath the surface.

“You want my fingers inside you, hmm?” he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. “You want me to make you cum, to be my good girl?”

His words send a thrill through you, your body responding instinctively to his commanding presence. Sunghoon’s touch becomes bolder, sliding the lace of your panties aside to tease your folds, his fingers brushing against your wetness.

“You’re so wet,” he observes, his tone both approving and teasing. “Did my spanking turn you on this much?”

You nod, unable to form words as pleasure coils tight in your belly. Sunghoon’s fingers explore your slick heat, his touch igniting a fire that threatens to consume you. The desk supports your trembling form as he leans closer, his breath hot against your ear.

“I’m going to make you cum,” he whispers his voice a promise that sends a shiver of anticipation through you. “But first, you have to beg for it. Prove to me that you can use your voice.”

You whimper, the command sending a jolt of need through you. “Please,” you gasp, your voice pleading and desperate. “Please, Sir, I need it. I need your fingers inside of me, making me ready to take your cock.” You should be humiliated by how easily the sentences tumble from your mouth but the cocktail of your lust and his teasing touch make you weak.

Sunghoon’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, his fingers finding your clit and circling it slowly. “That’s it, you always have been a fast learner,” he murmurs, his touch sending sparks of pleasure to your heart. “So good for me.”

His words fuel your desire, the intensity building with each stroke of his fingers. Your body responds eagerly, hips pushing against his hand in a silent plea for more. His touches are slow and precise, giving just enough attention to your nub to make you want more before he drags his fingers down your folds and plays with your aching hole. 

Sunghoon’s eyes darken with intent, his fingers delving deeper into your slick folds. The teasing pace shifts, his touch becoming merciless as he thrusts his fingers inside you with an intensity that makes you gasp. Sunghoon’s control is absolute, his touch expertly bringing you closer to the edge. 

"Is this what you wanted?" he asks in a deep, governing tone. "Is this what you begged for?"

You can only groan in return, your body arching towards him, yearning for more. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mixed with your frantic whimpers as his fingers curl within you, finding the point that causes your vision to blur.

"Look at you," he says with a satisfied tone in his voice. "So eager and desperate. My good girl."

His words add another surge of pleasure and your hips move in sync with his unrelenting fingers. Every time he calls you a good girl, you swear a piece of your pussy and heart is imprinted with his name. The sensation is overpowering, with each stroke of his long fingers drawing you closer to the brink. You can feel your release building, like a coil of fire tightening in your centre.

Sunghoon’s thumb finds your clit, adding to the exquisite torment. He rubs it in slow, deliberate circles, the dual sensation making you cry out. The pleasure is almost too much, your body trembling with the intensity of it.

“You’re going to cum for me,” he demands, his voice a rough whisper. “I want to feel you tighten around my fingers. I want to hear you scream my name. Be vocal, don’t hold back.”

His directive is all you need. With a final effort, the cord inside you snaps, and your release crashes over you in waves. You shout out, his name on your lips, and your body convulses with delight. Sunghoon keeps moving his fingers inside you, prolonging the climax until you're a shaking, gasping mess.

You are so happy no one else in this building can hear you.

As your breathing slows, Sunghoon withdraws his fingers, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. He brings his glistening fingers to his mouth, savouring your taste with a hum of approval. His gaze locks onto yours, filled with a mix of satisfaction and lingering hunger.

“Look at the mess you’ve made,” he murmurs, his eyes dropping to the floor where droplets of your release have landed on his shoe. “We can’t have that, can we?”

Before you can respond, he grabs your hair, yanking you up from the large desk. His body is still pressed behind you, his lips ghosting your lobe as he breathes heavily. “The next part of your assessment is following instructions. Clean it up,” he commands, his voice brooking no argument. “Use your tongue.”

Your cheeks flush with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, but you nod, obediently lowering yourself to your knees. The sight of you on the floor, eyes filled with submission, seems to please him. His fingers trace your jawline before guiding your head downwards.

The leather of his shoe glistens with your essence, and you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lap at the droplets. The taste of yourself mixed with the leather is intoxicating, the saltiness of your release mingling with the rich, earthy flavour of the leather. You can feel Sunghoon’s eyes burning into you, watching every movement with rapt attention.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice a low purr. “Make sure you get every drop. Lick it spotless.”

You work diligently, your tongue tracing over the shoe, cleaning every last bit of your release. The texture of the leather is smooth under your tongue, each lap bringing a mix of shame and excitement. You should not be this willing to humiliate yourself, especially in front of a man, but he makes it so easy to fall in line.

Sunghoon’s hand rests on the back of your head, a constant reminder of his control. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging and petting gently as you continue your task.

Once you’re finished, you sit back on your heels, looking up at him with pride and submission. Sunghoon’s eyes soften slightly, a hint of warmth breaking through his dominant facade. He crouches down, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips.

“You’ve done well,” he murmurs, his voice filled with approval. “But we’re not done yet.”

He stands, the glint of authority returning to his eyes as he begins to unbuckle his belt. The sound of the metal clinking sends a shiver down your spine, your gaze locked on his hands as they work with deliberate slowness. The belt slides free, and you can’t help but lick your lips in anticipation, the desire to touch him overwhelming.

As your hand moves forward, Sunghoon’s reflexes are swift. He catches your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. “Not until I tell you to,” he warns, his tone stern. “Don’t make me tie you up.”

Your eyes widen slightly, and you nod, drawing your hand back to your side. The threat of being restrained hangs in the air, adding another layer of excitement. Part of you wishes that he would take that sleek black tie from his collar and wrap it around your wrists but you know that if you can’t touch him, you’ll go insane. 

Sunghoon releases your wrist, his eyes never leaving yours as he pushes down his dress trousers and boxers, revealing his throbbing erection.

The sight of him, thick and pulsing with need, makes your mouth water. It’s fucking beautiful, so much more exquisite than in your sinful fantasies. You lean forward, eager to please, but he places a hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Patience,” he says, his voice a low growl. “You’ll get what you want, but on my terms. Don’t make me tell you again.”

He steps closer, the tip of his cock brushing against your lips. The warmth and hardness of him send a thrill through you, and you part your lips, ready to take him in. Sunghoon taps himself on your outstretched tongue a few times before he guides himself into your mouth, the taste of him filling your senses. You begin to suck gently, your tongue swirling around the head, savouring the salty tang of his pre-cum.

Sunghoon’s hand finds its way back into your hair, gripping tightly as he begins to move his hips. He pushes deeper, his cock sliding over your tongue and hitting the back of your throat. The sensation makes you gag slightly, but you relax your throat, allowing him to press further.

“Good girl,” he praises, his voice a husky whisper. “Take it all.”

He thrusts into your mouth with increasing intensity, each movement making your eyes water and your throat constrict around him. The feeling of being filled so completely is overwhelming, a mixture of discomfort and pleasure that sends a rush of heat through your body. You can feel him hitting the back of your throat, his cock sliding in and out with a rhythm that leaves you breathless.

Sunghoon’s grip tightens, and he begins to fuck your mouth with a relentless pace. Your hands clutch at his thighs for support, the muscles beneath your fingers tensing with each thrust. His breathing grows heavier, each exhale is a rough pant that tells you how close he is to coming undone.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs, his voice strained with lust. “Just a little more.”

With a final, deep thrust, he holds himself at the back of your throat, his cock pulsing as he reaches his climax. You feel the hot rush of his release, his cum spilling down your throat as he groans your name. You swallow eagerly, the taste of him lingering on your tongue as he slowly withdraws.

Sunghoon looks down at you, satisfaction evident in his eyes. He brushes a thumb over your swollen lips, smearing a bit of his cum across them before guiding you to stand. He kisses you deeply, the kiss a mix of dominance and raw need, a reward for your obedience. His tongue licks into your mouth, tasting himself, which only drives him deeper into arousal.

The intensity of the kiss deepens, his hands roaming your body with a sense of urgency. He grips your hips, pulling you flush against him, the heat between you igniting. His fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, and with a swift motion, he tears them away, the sound of the fabric ripping only adding to the raw desire between you.

You gasp into his mouth, the sudden exposure sending a thrill through your body. Sunghoon’s hands are everywhere, caressing, squeezing, exploring every inch of your skin. His touch is both possessive and reverent, each movement fuelled by a hunger that matches your own.

It’s wrong, he knows it, he should have stopped it at the spanking; he shouldn’t have started this at all. But when he heard you last night, moaning his name and cumming over the phone to his voice, it erupted a desire in him he hasn’t had for anyone in such a long time. 

Sunghoon has kept you as his assistant selfishly because he knows you are better suited in a lead role somewhere else in the company, your ideas and suggestions invaluable to the work that goes on here. Your potential is wasted by his side but he can’t let you go, not now, not ever.

He has never denied your beauty, a bonus to the intelligence you harbour inside of you. He just could never act on it, knowing that even a slight brush of his hand against yours could send him spiralling out of control.

And that is exactly what is happening now. He started with complete control and now he just wants to fuck you against every surface of his office, make you beg for more, and ruin your pathetic fantasies with the real deal.

Your hands find their way to his shirt, fingers fumbling with the buttons in your haste to undress him. Sunghoon’s mouth moves to your neck, his teeth grazing your skin as he helps you, shrugging off his shirt and letting it fall to the floor. Clothes fly and shoes scatter as you both lose yourselves in his office.

His hands grip your waist, lifting you with ease as his lips trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and over your breasts. Your legs wrap around his torso, seeking friction against the growing hardness pressing against you. You writhe in his hold, your body desperate for more, your arousal slicking his skin as you move to gain any sort of friction on your cunt.

Your mind, much like always, is going to places where he devours you and makes you his, only driving you to complete desperation. All those months of longing for your boss's cock and knowing that it’s simply inches away from your pussy makes you mewl out.

“Sir-”

“You want to beg some more?” he says cockily, smirking as his lips pepper kisses down to your collarbone and just above your top breast. Sunghoon’s mouth finds your nipple, sucking and biting gently, causing a moan to rip from your throat. His teeth are applying just enough pressure to hurt but not scar, tugging and rolling your nipple until you’re begging him.

“Please, Sir, I need you, I need your cock so badly.”

“Yeah? What perverted fantasies are twisted in your mind now?” His question is laced with curiosity and mockery, knowing exactly all the lewd thoughts that could cross your mind. 

His words send a shiver down your spine as he carries and pushes you up against the tall windows of his office. The cool glass contrasts sharply with the fevered heat of your bodies, making you gasp. The city skyline stretches out behind you, a silent witness to your passionate encounter.

He snarls at you, not in a demonic way - although his dark pupils could have fooled you - but no, he’s snarling like an animal looking at his prey, ready to pounce and ravage you in whatever way you want. 

Glancing behind you, you see the city and even though you know you are too high up for anyone to see you, a gleam of embarrassment shines from your face and your naked body cowering into itself as you hide from the outside world.

Noticing your sudden change in manner, Sunghoon scoffs, forcing you to look at him as he brings your face to meet his gaze, pressing you further against the window with his body to ensure you don’t escape. “What’s wrong, Y/N? You didn’t seem to mind an audience last night.”

You whimper, shaking your head. Of course, you didn’t mean to answer his call during your private session, letting lust take over your senses. But you somehow still have a fraction of your senses left, enough to know that drones fly by daily in this city, and what if birds actually do have cameras in their eyes? They could record you and post it on Twitter or something.

Your mind doesn’t just come up with elaborate scenarios for fucking your boss.

Sunghoon sees your focus drift to what-ifs and wraps his fingers around your throat, squeezing tightly to draw your attention back to him. His eyes are hooded, and the CEO that you know so well is gone, replaced with a primal man needing to devour you right in front of the city he so proudly claims as his home.

“You think anyone out there cares? Or can even see you?” he hisses, tightening his grip slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. “You wanted these fantasies and I am being more than kind in fulfilling them considering I could have fired you, called HR and made sure you could never work in this industry again. But I’m fair, aren’t I? Generous, almost.”

“Yes, Sir,” you manage to gasp, your voice trembling. He has every right to say all of this to you because it’s true; he could have easily fired you and blacklisted you from every marketing company in the country, never mind the city. Yet, here he is, granting you your deepest fantasies and not firing you.

“That’s better,” he growls, his lips crashing down on yours in a bruising kiss. His hand moves from your throat to hoist you up further, so your cunt is in perfect alignment to meet his thrusts.

The cold glass against your back is a sharp contrast to the feverish heat radiating from both of your bodies. The city sprawls out behind you, an array of lights and buildings that seem distant and irrelevant compared to the intense connection you’re sharing with him. Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as if he’s the only thing keeping you tethered to reality.

His cock slides into you with an intensity that leaves you breathless, each thrust a powerful reminder of his control over you, in both business and pleasure. The way he moves, precise and relentless, has your head spinning. The sensation of him filling you, stretching you, is overwhelming, but you crave more, arching your body to meet his every thrust. The slick sounds of your bodies coming together are loud in the quiet office, accompanied only by the occasional grunt or moan escaping his lips.

Sunghoon’s eyes are dark, almost predatory, as he watches you. There’s a hint of gratification in his gaze, knowing he has you completely at his mercy. His hands grip your hips tightly, guiding you to the perfect angle where every thrust hits that sweet spot deep inside you. The pleasure is blinding, white-hot, and it builds with every movement, a tight coil of desire that threatens to snap at any moment.

“Oh, fuck!” you cry out, nails clawing into your boss as his hips buck ferociously, the head of his cock dragging against the bumps of your walls so perfectly. It’s like his cock was made for you and you curse your dildo for never preparing you for how intense and good this feels.

His right hand crashes against your cheek, stinging across your skin. You moan out, relishing in the feeling. The CEO just slapped you and you fucking liked it.

“Don’t swear in my office,” he demands, slapping you once more but leaving his hand there to ease the pain. He adores punishment but also soothes you straight after.

Your breath comes in short, ragged gasps, the window fogging up behind you from the heat of your exertions. The cityscape outside is nothing more than a blur, your world narrowed down to the feel of his cock driving into you, the hard press of the glass against your back, and the delicious ache in your thighs as they wrap around his waist tighter.

“Such a fucking slut,” he murmurs against your ear, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. “Sucking me in so good. Is this what you pictured while you fucked yourself with that pathetic excuse of a dildo? It’s nothing compared to my cock, is it?”

The words send a thrill of humiliation and arousal through you, making your cunt clench tighter around him. Of course, your toy is nothing compared to his long, thick cock. The pink dildo never hits up into your cervix like he does, and it certainly doesn’t bulge out your stomach. You didn’t think dicks like this existed except in books or porn, so to have him filling up every inch of you, is enough to send you reeling into a sex-crazed insanity.

His pace increases, thrusts becoming more forceful, and you can feel the desk beneath you shuddering with the intensity. Each stroke is a blend of pain and pleasure, reminding you that this is a punishment, a lesson you need to be taught.

You can feel your orgasm building, a tidal wave of sensation that starts low in your belly and radiates outward, making your toes curl and your vision blur. Sunghoon’s hands move to your ass, lifting you higher, allowing him to drive even deeper. The new angle has you crying out, the pleasure almost too intense, and you bury your face in his shoulder, biting down to stifle your screams.

The rhythm of his thrusts becomes erratic, and you know he’s close too. The thought of him losing control, even just a little, is enough to push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes through you, a violent wave of pleasure that has you shaking and crying out, your walls spasming around his cock.

He wraps his hand around your neck once again, squeezing tight as he claims you, your euphoria heightening as the air struggles to filter to your lungs.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N. I want to be buried inside your tight cunt forever,” the admission throws you off balance, intensifying your high even more. His head rests on your shoulder as you grip his hair and tug at it, nodding in agreement. You never want him to leave, always attached to you in some way.

His words, raw and possessive, echo in your mind, amplifying the sensations coursing through your body. The heat between you is overwhelming, your bodies slick with sweat as the world outside the window fades away, leaving only the two of you in this feverish bubble of desire.

He follows you over the edge, a low growl rumbling in his chest as he empties himself inside you, the sensation of his hot release only prolonging your own pleasure. The feeling of his seed filling you, marking you, sends another wave of ecstasy through your body, your walls spasming around him, milking every last drop.

He stays buried deep within you, his body shuddering with the aftershocks. Even though his muscles ache from holding you up, he doesn’t let you fall, his hands gripping your throat and waist tightly. There’s an intimacy in the way he holds you, a possessiveness that speaks volumes about his intentions.

You’re both panting, the air between you thick with the scent of sex and sweat. Sunghoon’s gaze is still intense, but there’s satisfaction there now, a smug pride in knowing he’s thoroughly claimed you. He doesn’t want to say he owns you, but he definitely is never, ever letting you go.

His eyes scan your flushed face, taking in every detail, the way your lips are parted, the dazed look in your eyes, the way your chest rises and falls rapidly. He’s so glad he called you yesterday and so glad you answered. This, this moment, was worth every risk, every potential consequence. 

Sunghoon slowly pulls out of you, both of you wincing at the loss of connection. He carefully sets you down, your legs shaky as they touch the floor. You lean against the window for support, your body still tingling from the overwhelming pleasure.

“I’ll clean you up and then we need to go to the meeting. My notes?” He asks, the CEO persona in him slipping back into focus almost effortlessly.

“In the L drive of your computer,” you mumble, exhaustion taking over. He fucked you so good all you feel is relaxation in your spent body. You almost forget you have a whole day’s work to complete.

Sunghoon kneels to your limp body, caressing your face gently. “I’ll get you a coffee on the way there, I need you to be alert.” He leans close, his fingers dipping between your sore folds, gathering your mixed juices and plugging them back inside of you. “And you better be ready, I also think I lost the file for your appraisal.”

You shiver, knowing exactly what that means - your sins are far from over...

perm tag: @immortalvee , @snoopypupp, @sunpov @heeseungspookie @strawberrysavi @monstanctiny21 @diorsyun @heexzbae @yzzyhee @baekhyunstruly @zeeloveshee @haechonly @berryblog @no-mannerism @jaehoonii @notevenheretbh1 @iikeustar @shawnyle @addictedtohobi @jiminie-08 @emberuby @nctislifue @lilyuwon @skzenhalove @heeshlove @idkdykilr @chocminteu @y4wnjunz @rikibun @ivesti @parksunghoonsgf @branchrkive @brownsugarbaybee @xxbluestrifexx @bambangan @dollyyun @iluvikeu @deobitifull

[nethhiri]

Kid and killer with someone who is a literal mouse/rat ? ate the mouse zoan fruit unknowingly thinking I’d be a cooler ability

I hope you don't mind if I turned this into a little drabble bc it inspired me. It was such a cute idea.

(Okay this got out of hand... I am incapable of telling a succinct story)

The Only Free Cheese Is in the Mousetrap

You had to admit, when you first ate the Mouse-Mouse fruit, you thought it was going to be something a little bit cooler. Mice were small and lame. No one would blink twice at a silly little mouse. As it turned out, that was your advantage.

You had been trying to hitch a ride through the Grand Line and you had been successful for the most part, hiding in the storage of random ships, eating whatever you could find. You didn't need much as an innocent little mouse. This ship, however, had no food in storage. There were only weapons and prisoners. If you got caught on this ship, the consequences would surely be dire.

The mistake was made when you decided to venture around the ship in search of food. You happened to find yourself in the workshop of the notorious K.I.D., Eustass 'Captain' Kid that is. Unfortunately you were a very unique, bright white mouse. It didn't leave you much in the way of camouflage, unless there was a bowl of flour somewhere. Even more unfortunate was that Kid was a very observant man and spotted you instantly.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? A wee mouse?" Kid crouched in front of you.

You had been so sure he was going to crush you under his foot.

"Yer not even scared, eh?"

In truth, you were terrified, in the third, secret state of fight or flight: freeze.

"Wait here, mousey."

Kid returned to his bench, where there was a mostly empty plate, save for some crumbs. He collected them in his hands and returned to the interesting white mouse, sprinkling them on the floor.

"Here ya go."

He returned to his work, glancing up at you every so often to watch you nibble on the crumbs.

The next evening, you returned. He wasn't going to squish you and he even fed you. If he continued, you could just do this and survive until the next stop in port. You were pleasantly surprised to find that he had already set out some cubes of cheese.

"There ya go, mousey. I got the good stuff from Killer's stash."

That made your tiny mouse ears flick forward. So there's better food somewhere on the ship.

It turned out, you didn't have to search for it. Kid brought it to you. Over the next evenings, Kid left grapes, cheese, bread, bananas, and a bunch of other little tidbits. After about a week, there was a tiny metal table and chair set out with the food on top. You played along and sat in the chair for him, which mad him extremely happy. He moved it slightly closer to his bench every night until it was on the top of his desk. If someone had told you that you would be eating cubes of cheese, sitting on the desk of Eustass 'Captain' Kid, you would have laughed in their faces, but here you were doing just that.

This evolved even further until you were being carried around in a pocket on the inside of his coat. It was a little warm, but it offered protection. Every so often, he would sneak a crumb into the pocket for you.

"Boss, why are you feeding your coat?" Heat had been watching him put crumbs in his pocket over the course of dinner.

"No I'm not!" Kid said defensively, not answering the question correctly.

Killer reached out to pull open his coat, but Kid snatched it closer to him. Killer tugged on it harder.

"Stop it! Yer gonna hurt Mousey!"

"Mousey?" Killer let go of Kid's coat.

Kid hmphed.

"Kid."

Begrudgingly, Kid opened his coat.

"I don't see anything," Wire quipped.

Kid's face had a light dusting of pink. He whispered into his coat, "Come on out." Nothing happened. "It's okay."

You didn't expect to be revealed to anyone and you were reluctant to come out. Kid had kept you safe this far, though. You poked your snout out of the pocket and sniffed. There were quite a lot of people in the room. Your round, soft ears followed until your whole head was peering out of the pocket's edge. You were met with a chorus of adoring squeals from the girls and even some of the guys in the crew. Kid scratched between your ears, which you were ashamed to say, felt amazing and a squeak slipped out of your mouse mouth.

Heat covered his face. "So cute." Heat reached out to scratch your head.

"Don't ya touch my Mousey." Kid possessively closed his coat.

Heat's face got even sadder than it normally was.

"Just keep that thing out of my kitchen," Killer said. "They're full of germs."

Kid muttered down into the pocket. "Don't listen to him, Mousey. He's just jealous."

The next few days, since you weren't really a secret anymore, you spent sitting on Kid's shoulder. Killer had just as much disdain for you as he did initially, much to Kid's dismay. He really wanted his first mate to think you were as cool as Kid thought. Even the tiny leather jacket he made you didn't convince the blonde.

Kid fed you well, but you were still intrigued by this secret food stash that supposedly existed. There wasn't much entertainment as a mouse on a ship and you were getting bored. So at night, you had been searching the ship for this treasure. The kitchen was the most obvious, yet the scariest place to hunt. Certainly if there was hidden food, it would be there, however, Killer was extremely territorial and observant. It would be dangerous to search that particular area. Tonight was the night you would risk it.

It was easy enough to slip under the kitchen door. Finding the good treats was harder, but your well-equipped nose was able to sniff them out. The problem came when your tiny mouse hands were unable to figure out how to open the secret paneling that the food was hidden behind. You could turn into your human form, risky as it was. It would be nice to stretch it out. You had been a mouse for several weeks.

Taking your human form, you poked around the paneling until it revealed its contents. There was a variety of fancy or high quality specialty foods, including cheeses and preserved meats. You found a knife and cut small pieces from a few things you were interested in. Then you put everything back in its approximate original position. You climbed onto the counter and reverted back into a mouse, stuffing the tiny pieces of food you had curated into your cheeks.

The following day, as Killer went about his business, he noticed a set of bare footprints on the floor. There was a light dusting of flour from the day before when he made pasta from scratch. He hadn't noticed it before now. What was strange was that the footprints were only in one spot, like a person materialized and dematerialized there. It was also strange that someone who wasn't Kid was barefoot in the kitchen, and these footprints were about half the size of his. He somewhat brushed it off, that is, until he noticed the other footprints on the counter, the much tinier, much mousier footprints.

You had been spending most of your time in the walls of the ship, when you weren't being carried around in Kid's pocket. Today was no exception. You spent some of your time exploring listening in on others' conversations. Peering through the cracks of the wood, you decided to eavesdrop on Kid. Killer had come to talk to him and you were curious about what the captain and first-mate talked about. It was a good thing you did, since you were the subject matter.

"Kid, there's something up with your mouse."

His head snapped up from what he was doing. "What? Did something happen to them?"

"The 'mouse' is fine." Killer made air-quotes as he spoke.

"What do ya mean 'mouse'?" Kid copied his air-quotes.

"I mean I don't think it's just a mouse." Killer explained. "There are footprints in my kitchen that go from human to mouse." Killer wasn't stupid. He could put the pieces together.

"So ya think Mousey is a person?"

"I do."

"Prove it."

Shit. He was on to you. You didn't even notice the footprints you left behind. Should you even show up to eat? Or would it be more suspicious if you didn't? You ended up waiting until Kid left for the night before skittering out to grab your little crumbs and retreating into the wall.

You made yourself relatively scarce for the next few days, meaning you spent more time spying on the crew, for entertainment purposes only. One particular conversation caught your attention. You only caught portions of it, but it was clearly a mutinous theme. It ended shortly after you caught on to it, however, so you didn't get any details. Technically, it wasn't your problem. This wasn't your crew and you weren't planning on sticking around. It ate at you though. It felt wrong not to repay Kid for keeping you safe. Maybe you could return the favor.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary after that. Maybe they had given up on their plans. Until one evening in particular, someone new had delivered Kid's dinner to his workshop. He didn't always eat in there but he did more and more after he started feeding you. There was something off about the smell of the food. It wasn't right. Before Kid could eat any, you scrambled up to the table and bit his hand as he reached for the fork.

"Mousey! What the fuck?! That hurt." Kid bopped your head with a finger. "No biting."

As he reached for the fork again you knocked it onto the floor.

"Don't piss me off, Mouse."

He wasn't going to take the hint. He leaned over to pick up the fork, which is when you took the opportunity to push the plate onto the floor.

"FUCK!"

You knew he wasn't going to be happy, in spite of that, you couldn't watch him eat poisoned food. You tried to run away afterward, knowing this. However, you were slow compared to him and his powers quickly put a tiny metal cage around you.

"Ya act like this after all I've done for ya?! Bad mouse!" He picked up the miniature jail cell and gave it a shake, causing you to tumble around inside, with squeaks of discomfort.

Kid stomped off with you in tow and threw you to Killer once he found the first mate.

"Take this little shit to the brig."

Killer gave him a questioning look behind his mask. "You want me to put the mouse in a cell?"

"Well, I ain't gonna kill it. I'm not a monster."

Kid relayed all your crimes to the blonde. It was funny, how Killer felt a little bit bad for you, even though he had never shown you favor prior to that. You bounced with every step he took down to the brig.

"Oh, Mousey. You fucked up." Killer was to keep you here until they docked somewhere to let you go.

No, you fucked up. Neither of them were familiar with mouse physiology it seemed. The bars on your prison were way too far apart. As soon as Killer left, you squeezed out of the cage and made a beeline back to Kid's workshop.

It was vacant at the moment. You hurried to the desk and found a writing instrument. It was tough in your diminutive body, but you left a message for the captain:

YOU ARE IN DANGER.

You hoped he took it seriously. Then you scurried your furry body back to your cell before anyone noticed, not that they would.

Unfortunately, Kid thought it was a prank. You tried another note on his desk. You tried to leave him a note on his mirror in lipstick. At this point, Kid considered that there was a ghost on board. Clearly this method wasn't working. Once it became obvious, you started venturing out of the cage when you knew there wasn't anyone scheduled to come down there to feed or check on you. The next best thing to try was going back to spying and figuring out who exactly was involved.

Now, what you would do when you figured it out? That was decided for you. It wasn't what you intended. But what were you supposed to do? One of the men spotted you. And he backed you into a corner. And he was going to step on you. Your only choice was to transform. And when he pulled a knife? Well, of course you had to disarm him. And now that he had seen you and knew you heard his plot, you couldn't just leave a loose end like that. So you had no choice but to cut his throat. You left the knife in his hand. Not very believable but there were footsteps in the hall and you had to get out of there.

Not long after that, Killer came down to your cell and squatted down, lifting your prison until you were eye level.

"I know it was you."

You licked your paw and groomed your ear, very cutely, you might add.

"You can't fool me. You really need to learn to cover your tracks."

You scratched the back of your other ear with your hind leg.

Killer let out a frustrated growl and dropped your cage. He stomped out of the brig.

How is he so observant! You really should have remembered about the tracks, especially since that's how he noticed the first time. Now what? Either their plan would be foiled by losing a member or they would escalate, thinking they had been found out. You knew there were others, and you had to find out who they were, and quickly.

Your investigative antics became riskier. You went into cabins and dug through drawers. You followed people around using the walls. You were getting closer. Until one day, you found two more people chatting. They were definitely up to no good. The more you listened the more alarmed you were. They were going to make an attempt on Kid's life again tomorrow.

There was no way you could take them both on. The only reason you won against the other guy was because you took him by surprise. You couldn't send a message to Kid either. That hadn't worked. If you tried to tell him as a human, he wouldn't trust that. The only person that knew your secret, or at least was fairly confident in his assumptions, was Killer. Maybe you could risk telling him. Maybe he would believe you. It was doubtful.

When you scampered back to your cage, you came to an abrupt stop. Killer was there waiting for you. You gulped. You were frozen. You were caught.

"Where have you been, mouse?"

The jig was most certainly up. He snatched you in his fist faster than you thought possible. You squeaked, trying to gain a little sympathy as a cute creature. Maybe it would make him believe you were a regular mouse. Then you bit him. He didn't even flinch. He was smart. He was trying to force you to reveal yourself, squeezing you gradually tighter and tighter.

You were forced into your human form to avoid being crushed, even then, his grip on your throat was immovable. You could sense his smugness in being right. He wasn't even surprised. You were grateful that however this fruit worked, you got to keep your clothes on when you transformed.

"Stop! Please!" You scratched at his hands.

Killer slammed you against the wall. "You killed one of my crew! You're going to pay for it."

"M-mu-tiny," you rasped out. The edges of your vision were going black.

Killer loosened his grip. "What did you say?"

"There's gonna be a mutiny."

Killer pushed you against the wall harder. "So you're a murderer and you've turned our own crew against us?"

"N-no. Please. L-et me go." You gasped for air. "I'll ex-plain."

Killer was decent enough to hear you out, and was shocked by the accusations. You couldn't help him further though. You hadn't heard their names and the way you described them was vague. It left Killer in a tough place. He didn't trust you, yet if you were telling the truth and his captain was in danger, he had to.

"I-I have an idea."

Killer didn't like your idea. Yet, it was better than anything he could think of, so he went along with it. And that was how you found yourself sitting on the inside of the Massacre Soldier's helmet, hanging onto his hair the next day. You could see out of the eyeholes better than you expected. Killer was strategically staring at each individual member and you were to whisper in his ear when you saw the people who were plotting.

As you spotted them, you hurriedly signaled to Killer that they were the culprits. As they had no proof, Killer was simply going to talk to them. But, as one does when being approached by a brick house of a man like Massacre Soldier, they got scared. This was not their plan, but they were so nervous, especially after one of them was killed, that they thought they had been found out. They both jumped Killer, and in the process of him defending himself, you slipped out of his mask and fell onto the deck.

You shook it off and your eyes searched for Kid, who was so distracted by the seemingly random scuffle, that he wasn't watching his own back, where a third, unexpected assailant was waiting. You ran as fast as your short legs would carry you. He spotted you instantly.

"Mousey? How'd you-"

Kid was taken aback by watching you run straight through his legs, and as he turned, seeing you transmute your form into that of a human. A human who was wrestling a gun out of someone's hand. Someone who was obviously trying to point said gun at him.

Regrettably, Kid was just a touch too shocked to react in time. His devil fruit activated to take the gun, but only after a shot was fired. He felt nothing. You, on the other hand, dropped to your knees and doubled over, clutching your midsection.

Was this how you imagined yourself being celestially discharged from this life? No. Did you have regrets? Probably. But saving Eustass Kid wasn't one of them. After all, what other mouse could say they saved a notorious pirate captain? Maybe your devil fruit wasn't that lame in the end.

______________________________________________________________

Kid thought about you a lot. They didn't have a trained doctor on board. They had to leave you at an island that had, thankfully, been in close range for you to be treated. He shouldn't be sad; his plan was to drop you off at the next island. Still, it felt wrong not to say goodbye or at least thank you.

Killer was grateful to you for saving his captain, even after being 'imprisoned' and roughed up by them. Even though you owed them no loyalty, you were more loyal than crewmates they had on board for months.

Several weeks passed. Kid happened to look up to see the NewsCoo delivery bird. The bird landed with a newspaper, some new wanted posters, and a small package. Curious, Kid picked it up and shook it next to his ear. Weird, what kind of gift made squeaks. Kid tore it open to find a dazed, white mouse.

"Oh fuck! Mousey! Sorry!"

You stumbled around in his hand, dizzy.

He hugged his hand to his chest and gave you a giant kiss on the head, staining your white fur red. In his excitement, he forgot you were a person. Upon remembering, he had a pink dusting to his cheeks and set you down.

You transformed into a human in front of him.

"Why did ya come in the mail?!"

"Cheaper fare than a boat," you grinned.

Kid all but threw you over his shoulder. "Killer! Look what we got in the mail!"

Killer stifled a laugh as he noticed a big red imprint of lips on your forehead. Kid went just as red as the mark when he noticed that it transferred to your human appearance. And neither one of those assholes told you it was there either.

Kid dropped the "y" from the end of your name from then on, but slipped up on occasion, still referring to you as Mousey. He still asked you to join him for dinner sometimes, too, as a person though, not a mouse; he didn't give you crumbs either. He liked your company.

Killer was impressed by your knowledge of cheeses and asked you to come shopping with him on islands for provisions. You also had a knack for picking the ripest fruits. He usually asked you to personally deliver Kid's meals, you know, to avoid another poisoning.

And some would even go as far as to say they saw a white critter scurrying under Kid or Killer's doors in the late hours of the night or scurrying out early in the morning.

[home-for-wayward-fawns]

𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝒞𝒶𝓃'𝓉 𝒪𝓊𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓃 𝑀𝑒

A commission I wrote for my friend @selenezq in which her OC Emma tried to run away from Alastor, and it didn't quite go as planned!

TW: Dub-con, possessive!Alastor, dark themes.

Alastor sat on his armchair in his bedroom, one leg crossed over the other while he held the newspaper open across his lap. He didn’t look up as he heard his door slam open, turning the page in a languid manner. He heard a gentle grunt as his favourite Morningstar was forced to her knees by his shadow—he only wished he could understand why she insisted on misbehaving when she already had all his attention. What else could she possibly need?

“I do believe we made an agreement of sorts, dearest.” He sighed. “If I recall correctly, you begged me for eternity. Were you under the impression I am a liar—perhaps you thought I was a man who does not keep his word?” 

“I didn’t expect—”

He slammed the newspaper down on the side table beside him, leaning forward as his eyes glowed a bright red—an ominous glow compared to her brilliant shine. “I am well aware of your station and the privileges you possess. Do you think me a stupid man, princess?” 

He spat the title at her, as if it were an insult rather than her birthright as the devil’s daughter. Her eyes narrowed, a bitter barb ready on her tongue, even as her bottom lip wobbled but he wasn’t going to give her the time to let the words form. “I am more than aware that your parents have done a poor job of teaching you what commitment means, so I’m going to show you. I will teach you this lesson as many times as I need to until you understand what it means to be mine. I am not one of your witless little boyfriends lapping at your feet for just a scrap of your attention, Emma Morningstar, and I am not your spineless father willing to let you walk all over me. There are rules and you will abide by them.” 

His shadow released her hair, disappearing into the shadows as tentacles rose from the ground beneath her, wrapping tightly around her ankles and wrists to drag her onto the ground. “It seems there are people in your life who have led you to believe that you do not matter, that you’re not worth chasing after, and that is the only reason I will go easy on you, my pretty diamond. This is the only time I will do so; if you make this mistake again, the consequences will be far more dire.” 

Alastor stood up, taking the dainty crown off her head and placing it on the ground in front of her. She looked up, confusion in her eyes and he kicked it, watching as it rolled away from her with a cruel smile on his face. She was such a pretty little thing, dressed in a short red dress with lace trimmings up the side. Her pretty tits were almost hanging out from her position on her knees, and her skirt was riding up her ass, not enough material to keep her covered and he tutted. “Lesson one, my little pet. I am inescapable, unavoidable and inevitable. There is no living without me, my love, I will not allow it.” 

The tentacles wrapped around her ankles pulled harshly, pulling her legs open to reveal the scarlet red thong that was doing a terrible job of covering anything. 

“Alastor, stop it.” She commanded, finally finding her words and he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow. 

“No, I don’t think I will.” He told her tersely, another tentacle rising from the ground beneath her. It was far thick than the rest, and it pressed against her clothed cunt. He watched with smug amusement as she began to rock her hips against it, riding the length of the thick appendage. “You have your safe word pet, and I will respect it, but know you will be punished regardless. You’ll enjoy this a lot more than what I originally had planned for you.” 

“What were you going to do to me?” She asked, tilting her head as a blush began to spread across her face but she was smiling as she pleasured herself using his tentacles—his beautiful little attention whore.

He crouched in front of her, gripping her jaw as he forced her to look deep into his eyes. “I considered breaking every single one of your dainty little bones, my love. I would chain you to my bed, and I’d be terribly slow, make sure you thanked me for every delightful crack until you were a broken mess, my perfect toy, and do you know what I love most about you, dearest? I’ve put the idea in your mind now and before long you’ll beg for exactly that.” 

He dropped her jaw, enjoying the way she poked out her little tongue to lick her plump lips that were just designed for his cock. “But I promised to go easy on you—just this once—so instead we’re going to play a game! You like games, don’t you, dearest? Here’s how to play: you’re going to let me use your perfect little body, stuff it so full of me that you don’t even remember what it felt like to be empty and be grateful.” 

“How do I win?” She asked, raising an eyebrow and he laughed. 

He unzipped his trousers, pulling out his thick, heavy cock. He gripped her hair tightly, tugging her head back as he pressed the head of his cock against her lip. She opened easily—so fucking eager for him—and he thrust forward, forcing her to take him all the way to the base. 

“You don’t.��� He growled. 

She looked up with wide panicked eyes, her hands pressed flat into the floor as the tentacles kept them in place, drool beginning to pool at the corner of her lips as she gagged around him. He peered over her arched back where he saw that thick tentacle pressing against the entrance to her dripping cunt. “That looks like it’s going to hurt, pet.” He chuckled darkly. 

He pulled his cock all the way out, slapping her face with it as she panted for air. He wanted to hear her scream, hear her cry as she forced open. She let out a confused whine before suddenly she was screaming, lowering her back as she pushed her hips in the air. She tried to crawl forward, to escape the thick intrusion, but the tentacles held her in place. “Alastor, please, it hurts.” 

“I’m going to release your wrists, dearest, and you’re going to use them to spread yourself wide for me. Do not disobey me; you will not like the consequences.” He growled at her. 

The tentacles released her and he gripped her hair tighter, holding her up while she reached behind her,  spreading her fat ass so the tentacles could push deeper. She looked up as tears began to flow and he could feel himself getting impossibly harder in her mouth. “How many do you think I can fit inside you, pet? How many do you think I can force your tiny body to take?” He growled low, as another thick tentacle rose from the ground, pushing at her sopping wet hole. 

He groaned loudly as she cried out around him, sharp nails digging into her own beautiful flesh as she tried to stretch herself wide, tried to accommodate for the girth inside her. “You’re beautiful, look at you—have I been neglecting you, pet? Do you need more attention?” 

She whined, trying to shake her head but he held her still. He thrust into her slow, dragging his cock along her tongue while the tentacles pounded deep inside her, stretching her wide. He let out a low growl as he pushed his cock down to the back of her throat, feeling her throat convulse around him as he pushed further still. “As if I’d ever let you escape me, my pretty little jewel.” 

The two tentacles inside of her pushed against the sides of her walls, stretching her wide so a third one could wiggle in between them. She let out a scream around his cock, and he groaned—she had no business feeling so good around his cock. 

“That’s it, take it all for me.” He growled low, and she looked up at him; her beautiful ruby-red eyes rolling back as she struggled to keep her gaze secured on his form. 

He pulled out, resting his cock on top of her nose. Drool and pre-cum dribbled down her face as she gasped desperately for air. “Alastor—Alastor—I need—can't—” 

“Poor little princess, do you need to cum? Do you need to cum while I use your tiny cunt for my own amusement?” He teased and she nodded her head. 

“Alastor, please.” She begged, her tongue lolling out of her mouth as she looked up with those pretty eyes and there was a part of him that was angry about that. 

Perfect little fucking pretty slut who had her claws piercing deep into his very soul. She could never know how desperate he was for her, how far he'd go to keep her. 

He walked around her, crouching by her side and he whistled when he saw her stretched-out cunt. “Perfect, my perfect pet.” 

He reached underneath her, pressing a finger against her soaked cunt and trailing it up slowly to her clit. She bucked her hips against him as he did so, crying out as cum dribbled out of her pretty pussy. 

“Who do you belong to, princess? Who owns you?” He growled as he rubbed aggressively—angrily—against her bundle of nerves. 

“Yours! I'm yours. I belong to you. Fuck, please.” She cried, and then she screamed as she fell onto her face. 

She dropped her hands, claws scratching along his wooden floorboards as she screamed. Her entire body shook, beautiful squelching sounds filling the room as her body tightened around the tentacles stretching her so wide. 

As her body stopped and she slumped against floor, her hips high in the air; he found himself smiling. The tentacles slowly pulled out of her and she whimpered at the loss before he pressed the head of his cock at her abused entrance. 

“I will say this once.” He growled, and she made a sound of confusion, rocking her hips back, trying to get him to fuck her again but he refused to fill her again—not yet. “You—Are—MINE.” 

He punctuated each word with a thrust deep inside her and she wailed, pushing her hips up as high as she could as the tentacles pulled her ankles apart, splitting her in two in more ways than one. “Yes—yes—yours—yours!” She agreed, panting loudly as she cried out. 

He wrapped both his hands around her waist, sharp claws digging into delicate skin and piercing through her until she bled. She cried out in pain, whimpering as he thrust deeper and deeper. He needed to be so deep that she would spend days feeling his absence, that she would never again consider leaving him—he would never allow her to leave him again. 

He grabbed her perfect blonde hair, yanking it back and forcing her to allow him to hold all of the weight. She moaned as he pushed himself deeper inside of her, her weight forcing him deeper inside and he growled against the skin of her neck. “If you ever fucking think about leaving me again Emma, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me? I’ll fucking kill you, and I’ll still keep your body, because you’re mine.” 

He bit down into her neck while she screamed, pretty tears falling down her face and he grunted as he filled her with thick ropes of cum. He felt his knot expand and chuckled as he watched her try to crawl away, try to escape him, but he would never allow such a thing. 

“Too much—too big—Alastor—no—” She whined, but he held her tight against him, gently rocking his hips into her own as he filled her perfectly—they fit together like a filthy puzzle. 

“Whoops.” He chuckled, as the tentacles rescinded back into the shadows and he held her against his lap. He’d keep her for hours just like this, his fucked out filthy little whore trapped on his knot and then when it went down he’d do it all over again. He’d fuck her like this until she learnt her lesson, until she understood they were inevitable.

[talonabraxas]

The Goddess Sophia Talon Abraxas

“Allegory of Divine Wisdom”

In Gnosticism, the “Fall” didn’t occur through Adam and Eve – it happened before the world’s creation, through a mistake made by a heavenly being called Sophia (whose name is Greek for “Wisdom.”

The story of Sophia’s fall (which was part of the Gnostic creation myth) is told slightly differently in the many Gnostic texts that discuss it, but the various versions of the tale all share the basics in common.

Sophia was one of the “aeons” – divine entities who were descended from God the Father and who were roughly equivalent to angels. Of the many aeons, Sophia was the last to arise from God.

Like the other aeons, Sophia was the child of a male-female pair of aeons that had come before her, who had given birth with the Father’s blessing. Sophia and the rest of the aeons formed the “Pleroma” (Greek for “Fullness”), the Gnostic name for Heaven.

Sophia wanted to have a child, too. But she went about it in the wrong way: she conceived without the involvement of her male partner or the approval of the Father. Her child was the “demiurge,” a misshapen, belligerent creature that was utterly unlike the other heavenly beings.

Sophia immediately realized her horrible mistake and cast her child out of the Pleroma. The demiurge, now alone, believed that he was the only being who had ever existed, and created the material world out of his ignorance, foolishness, and malevolence, trapping sparks of divinity within Adam and Eve along the way.

Because of her fall and its dire consequences, Sophia became a flawed being. Her deficiency rendered her unable to remain in the perfect “Fullness” of the Pleroma, so she was placed just outside of the Pleroma, in a realm above that of her malevolent son. In anguish, Sophia repented, and the Father agreed to bring her back to the Pleroma once what had become lacking in her was restored to its natural fullness.

Precedents for Sophia in Jewish Literature

In the genre of Jewish (“Old Testament”) writing known as “wisdom literature,” Wisdom (Hokma in Hebrew was personified, and she gave monologues describing her great deeds and articulating her perspective on the world. Since Hokma, like the Greek Sophia, is a feminine noun, Wisdom was cast as a female figure. In the words of Nicola Denzey Lewis, Wisdom is “God’s active feminine principle, at once a part of God but also separate from God,” as in Proverbs 8, Job 28, and Sirach 24. In this regard, she’s much like the Gnostic aeons, who are also semi-independent extensions of God. They act, whereas God himself simply is.

Here’s an example of one of Wisdom’s monologues, Proverbs 8:22-31:

The Lord created me at the beginning of his work, the first of his acts of long ago. Ages ago I was set up, at the first, before the beginning of the earth. When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no springs abounding with water. Before the mountains had been shaped, before the hills, I was brought forth— when he had not yet made earth and fields, or the world’s first bits of soil. When he established the heavens, I was there, when he drew a circle on the face of the deep, when he made firm the skies above, when he established the fountains of the deep, when he assigned to the sea its limit, so that the waters might not transgress his command, when he marked out the foundations of the earth, then I was beside him, like a master worker; and I was daily his delight, rejoicing before him always, rejoicing in his inhabited world and delighting in the human race.

The Gnostic depiction of Sophia was surely heavily influenced by this earlier Jewish depiction of Wisdom, both directly and indirectly through the works of thinkers such as Philo of Alexandria, a first-century Jewish intellectual who worked personified Wisdom into a rationalized cosmological system that sought to synthesize and harmonize the Jewish scriptures with the works of Plato, another importance influence on the Gnostics and early Christians more generally.

Sophia and Non-Gnostic Christians

Some texts from the Valentinian school of Gnosticism connect the story of Sophia’s fall to the fate of non-Gnostic Christians – that is, Christians who have the baseline Christian virtue of faith but not the higher mystical insight of gnosis, the root of the word Gnostic.

For these Valentinians, those with gnosis will ascend to the Pleroma after their deaths to partake of its perfect “Fullness.” Christians without gnosis will still be saved, but will have to spend some time in the place where Sophia was put after her fall, so that they, like her, can continue to advance in perfection until they’re worthy of being admitted to the Pleroma. You could say that Sophia’s realm is much like Purgatory in this view.

The existence of Sophia’s celestial waiting room of sorts enabled these Valentinians to have their cake and eat it, too: to preserve the special privilege that they believed gnosis imparted to them, while nevertheless being able to reassure other Christians that they, too, would ultimately be saved. This was surely a socially advantageous view, since it placed the Valentinians within the wider Christian fold rather than apart from it.

[kiss-me-cill-me]

Cup of Coffee and a VHS | Pt. 3

Start with Pt. 1 HERE! ~ Jump back to previous Pt. 2 HERE!

Pairing: Neil Lewis x Reader Coffee Shop!AU

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Lucien continues to be a slight jerk, lots of awkward fluff, some sexually suggestive scenes/dialogue, fade-to-black style end of chapter

A/N: I apologize to anyone who's lactose intolerant, both for the choice of drink in this chapter and for the sheer levels of cheesiness.

It did snow that weekend, and heavily. Neil’s movie pick turned out to be perfect for the frosty atmosphere. You curled up on your couch and popped the VHS in, holding a hot drink with your fingers wrapped tightly around the mug to warm yourself. 

It was an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon. Though, you found yourself wishing that Neil could be curled up on the couch next to you. He seemed like the type who would have all sorts of fun trivia, and be able to spout off every movie that each actor had been in previously. That night, your mind sifted through fantasies of the two of you, cooped up together, sheltering out a storm. Preferably with less dire consequences than had been in The Shining.

The next morning, the world was awash with sparkly white. Although it took a few hours from the time you woke up to actually be able to see anything; of course, it was still dark by the time you were unlocking the door to your cafe. But slowly, the early morning’s pink light crept over the snow dunes, until finally everything outside your window looked almost blindingly bright. The reflection of the ice crystals somehow made winter feel just a little less harsh.

At around nine, Lucien came into your shop, ordered his usual, and reached across the counter to accept the paper cup and marker you offered him. You were already getting used to his idiosyncrasies. 

“So, I know Neil wouldn’t want me to tell you this,” Lucien began, marking an elegant cursive “L” on the cup as he began to write his name. “But I feel like it’s my responsibility as the foil-slash-trickster character in his life to do it anyway.”

You smiled, but furrowed your brows. You had no idea what Lucien was talking about. Was he always this… cinematic when getting involved in other people’s business?

“Okayyy…” you replied.

Lucien passed the cup and marker back to you, and you started getting his order ready. 

“You know Neil has a huge crush on you, right?” Lucien deadpanned.

“Umm…”

Your words failed you, and you froze with your hand in the jar of espresso beans, halfway through digging out a scoop. Lucien continued, undeterred.

“Before you mistake me for some kind of hopeless romantic,” he said, “I’m really just doing this to advance the plot past the ‘Neil fawns over his clueless love interest’ point. I’m sick of listening to him lament over whether or not he should ask you out.”

“W-why tell me instead of just pushing Neil to do it, then?” you asked.

“Oh, don’t worry - I’m playing this from both angles,” replied Lucien. “But if you’re not interested, I can tell Neil-”

“No!” you blurted, a little too quickly. “I mean, uh, you really don’t have to get involved…”

“Mm-hmm,” hummed Lucien, slowly. “Well, if you’ve got the balls to make a move, could you do it sooner than later? I can really only watch Neil make puppy-dog eyes out the window for so long.”

Your heart swelled at the thought of Neil, elbow resting on the counter and hand holding up his chin while he sighed, longingly. It was a dramatic image, but it seemed to fit him. You stifled a smile.

You handed Lucien his coffee and told him to have a good day, not making any promises about Neil. But of course, you were secretly brimming with excitement over the knowledge that he liked you back. You had spent plenty of time fawning after him the past few days. But you hadn’t allowed yourself to seriously consider the notion that he might feel the same way you did. Your heart sang as you swept the floor of your little coffee shop, and you hummed while you worked, lungs filling with anticipation.

That afternoon, you had a few errands to run after closing up your shop, but you made it a point to stop by Gumshoe so that you could return Neil’s video. More as an excuse to see him than anything, but the back of your mind wondered if maybe you should take Lucien’s advice and make a move. What kind of move, you had no idea - and you still didn’t have a plan as you pushed open the door of Neil’s store, making the little bell ring with your arrival.

“Hey, you’re back!” exclaimed Neil, hunched over behind the counter. 

He came out to greet you, standing at an awkward distance that was a bit too close for regular friendliness but too far to offer you a hug.

“Oh boy, coffee girl,” Lucien called from the couch, keeping up appearances on his antagonistic role.

“Ignore Lucien,” Neil told you, smiling in a way that made your heart do somersaults.

“I usually try to, unless I’m selling him coffee,” you joked, suddenly self-conscious about coming across as too mean.

Neil laughed, though, and your anxieties melted away. At least for a second, until he fixed you with a conspiratorial look that had your stomach in knots to match your pounding heart.

“I won’t say anything if you want to start triple charging him,” Neil said lowly.

“I can hear you!” Lucien shouted.

Lucien’s outburst broke the tension, and you and Neil were laughing easily with each other again. You wondered if it was just your imagination that something felt different between you now, as if there were many things left unsaid. Had Lucien told Neil that you liked him back? Probably. But maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, if it really did help get you past the awkward pining phase.

“So, what brings you in today?” asked Neil. Was it your imagination, or did he seem more nervous than usual?

“I’m here to return your VHS,” you replied, pulling the tape out of your bag. “Don’t want any late fees, right?”

“Wow, you watched it already?”

“Yep, and it was just as atmospheric as you said.” You smiled as you added, “But very creepy; I wish I hadn’t watched it alone.”

You were hoping that Neil would pick up on the hint, but instead he frowned a little as he took the tape from you.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said sincerely.

“Oh no,” you hurried to assure him. “I just mean I wish I’d had someone to watch it with.”

From the couch, Lucien coughed loudly. Neil, oblivious, still didn’t get the hint.

“Well, next time I’ll pick something less scary,” he promised. Your heart sank a little, but brightened when he said, “So, when can I stop by for my next drink so I’ll owe you another movie?”

There was something strangely endearing about hearing him so eager to be indebted to you. You remembered how Lucien had described Neil as having puppy-dog eyes, and now you could definitely picture it. The way he was looking at you, so much excitement over the idea of recommending a movie for you to watch.

“How about right now?” you offered. You were also eager to snatch up the opportunity. “The cafe’s closed, but I could whip you up something. I have an idea I think you’ll really like.”

You looked up at Neil through your eyelashes, trying to act a little demure. Knowing that he had a crush on you made you bolder.

“Sure,” Neil agreed, a smile lighting up his face. “Just let me grab my coat.”

You followed him to the door, and watched as he shrugged into his jacket and put on a wool hat. Before leaving, Neil called over his shoulder. 

“Lucien! You’re in charge while I’m gone.”

Lucien gave a thumbs-up, and threw you a knowing look. You were grateful that Neil had already turned around, pushing through the door before holding it open for you. It was already dark outside, and the streetlights illuminated the fresh snow as you walked down the street to your shop.

Neil kicked at a snowdrift as he walked, hands stuffed into his pockets. You mirrored him, shoving your hands deep into the folds of your coat, even though you wanted nothing more than to reach out and wrap his fingers around yours.

“I’m excited to see what you have planned,” Neil said.

It took you a moment to realize he was talking about the drink. Your breath puffed out in front of you as you spoke.

“I think you’ll really like this one,” you replied. “Very sweet; just like you.”

You glanced over to see Neil’s cheeks turn bright red. Maybe it was just the chilly air…

“I remember you said that the first time we met, too,” Neil laughed. “That I was sweet. You still think so, huh?”

“I do,” you replied, letting your shoulder bump against his as you walked. “But only because it’s true.”

You reached the front of your shop, and you bent down to twist your key in the lock. A burst of warm air rushed out when you opened the door.

“Come on in and warm up,” you told Neil. “Your face is red.”

Neil’s cheeks blushed an even deeper shade. That time was definitely not from the cold. He stepped in, and you followed, shutting the door behind you.

“Hey, I have an idea.” Neil smiled as you hung up your scarf. “Can we make this one a double and share a drink while I take you on a walk? I know a really nice park around here.”

You liked the sound of that. Being new to the area, you hadn’t had a lot of time to explore, and spending more time with Neil was something you wouldn’t say no to.

“That’s a great idea,” you beamed. “Two caramel hot chocolates, coming up.”

Neil seemed to perk up at your mention of hot chocolate. He followed you over to the counter as you stepped behind it to whip up your latest attempt at finding a drink that Neil would enjoy. You figured that everyone liked hot chocolate; unlike coffee, it was almost guaranteed to be universally loved. You poured the drinks into two to-go cups, and added whipped cream and a drizzle of caramel sauce to each.

“That looks amazing.”

Neil was practically drooling, and you knew you had hit on something good.

“See, this is why you should have just told me in the first place what you like,” you teased. 

“But if I had, would we ever have seen each other again after that first night?” Neil countered.

He had a point.

“Probably, but… maybe you wouldn’t have ended up lending me that movie,” you relented. 

“Exactly.” Neil took an eager sip, and licked at the whipped cream stuck to his lip. “And then, things might have turned out differently. A little chaos always leads to better adventures.”

It was an interesting thought, and you smiled as you recalled all the little swirls of chaos that Neil had added to your life. Even in the short time since you’d met him, life seemed a little more exciting and fun. He was different from you, but that was a good thing.

“Is that something Lucien says?” you guessed.

“Jonathan, actually,” Neil admitted. “Although Lucien is an agent of chaos.”

You laughed, and carried your own drink to the front door. Neil trailed behind you, shrugging his jacket back on.

“Come on, let’s get going before things get too chaotic around here,” you joked. “I was promised a nice walk through the park. And unlike some people, I’m not against saying that that’s exactly what I want.”

You wrapped your scarf around your neck, and you and Neil once again braved the chilly air, with hot drinks now in hand. The warmth seeped through your gloves, keeping your fingers comfortably guarded against the frigid temperature. As you took a sip, the hot chocolate warmed you from the inside as well, and you felt content as Neil guided you down the street toward the little park. As you got close, you caught glimpses of bright lights sparkling in the dark.

“Oh, wow,” you gasped as they fully came into view. “So pretty.”

The trees, bare of their leaves, had been wrapped in twinkling yellow lights. The whole park was full of them, and the beautiful display seemed to shine over the fresh snow. The effect was dazzling. Neil gave you a little nudge.

“Pretty like you.”

As he prodded you with his elbow, it was suddenly your turn to get flustered. You felt your face heat up, and looked down at your cup of hot chocolate so that Neil wouldn’t see you smiling.

You walked together in silence for a few minutes, taking in the spectacle. 

“So,” Neil’s voice cut through the chilly air, breath still puffing in front of him. “I’m sure you’ve probably already figured this out, but… I really like you.”

Your heart flipped with joy. Hearing the words come out of Neil’s own mouth was enough to send you soaring.

“Lucien… might have told me,” you admitted.

Neil laughed, an adorable little chuckle of embarrassment that made you fall a bit harder for him. He stopped walking and turned to face you, setting his paper cup down on the freshly-shoveled pathway. You did the same, wanting your hands free for whatever was going to happen next.

“Well,” Neil continued, “I hope he at least didn’t tell you about this. I got you a little gift.”

Neil reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, offering it to you.

“Since I technically still owe you for that first coffee,” he said. 

You opened the box, and a smile spread across your face. Inside was a pair of tiny charms on a gold chain. One was a little coffee cup, and the other was a VHS tape. The gesture was so adorable you were scared that your heart might burst.

“Neil, this is so cute!” you cried. “It’s us!”

A look of relief washed over Neil’s face.

“I’m glad you like it,” he said. 

“Of course I do. Neil, you really are the sweetest.”

A gust of sudden, frigid air blew through the park, causing you both to shrink into yourselves. Neil pulled the collar of his jacket up, trying to keep out the chill. You laughed.

“But you still don’t bundle up as much as you should,” you teased.

You took a step closer to Neil, untucking your scarf and wrapping it around the both of you. Your forehead pressed against his as you stood, bundled together against the cold. The frosty tip of Neil’s nose touched yours when you looked up at him.

“Maybe I just like having an excuse to share scarves with you,” Neil teased back.

His hands were shoved back in his pockets, and you moved a little closer, wishing he would put his arms around you.

“You know, you don’t actually owe me for that coffee,” you said softly. “I told you, the first one was free so you’d get addicted.”

Finally, Neil reached out and held you by the waist, pulling you even closer to him.

“Well, I did get addicted to something, but it wasn’t the coffee…”

Your eyes closed, and Neil pressed his lips against yours. You could taste the sweetness of caramel as he kissed you, his warm arms wrapping around you a little tighter.

Neil’s eyes were still half-lidded when you pulled away. You felt your cheeks burn again.

“So does this mean you like me, too?” Neil asked. 

You giggled, the cold puff of your breath evaporating between you.

“Neil, you can be so dense,” you teased.

You leaned in for a second kiss, just as sweet as the first.

“Okay, I’m going to assume that’s a ‘yes,’” Neil breathed.

You nodded happily.

“This might be a bit forward, but… what do you say we get out of the cold?” you asked, reaching up to take hold of Neil’s collar as you pressed your body against him.

“You mean like… head back to my place?”

You nodded again, smiling as you bit your lip.

“Oh. Yeah. Yes - definitely,” Neil answered. 

He was so cute when he was flustered. You kissed him again, a little more passionately, and felt something start to press against you. You broke the kiss to tease Neil a little more, unable to help yourself.

“Is that a VHS in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?”

“Possibly… both?” Neil replied.

Your laughter echoed through the night air as you wrapped your arms tightly around Neil’s neck, throwing your head back. Being with him felt so freeing. Like you could laugh and joke and be yourself, so easily, while Neil did the same. 

“Let’s get going, then,” you whispered. “A little chaos makes the best adventures, right?”

Read Pt. 4 HERE!

[kcwriter-blog]

Choice. Consequence. Blame.

Choice. Consequence. Blame. When I think about these concepts, I think about Solas and the blame he incurs for the choices he made. How do you apportion blame? How far back in time do we go? Those are interesting questions to me. My somewhat disorganized answers are under the cut. 

The concept of blame is universal. Someone makes a choice. That choice has consequences. If the outcome is good, the person is lauded. If the outcome is bad, the person is vilified. Context — the reasons why the person had to make that choice in the first place — is thrown out the window. 

How does this relate to Solas? Just about everyone agrees that his choice to create the Veil was responsible for what happened to the elves — even Solas. He is to blame. It’s a simplistic view. Choices are not made in a vacuum. 

What motivated Solas? He tells us. The Evanuris became corrupt. They lusted after power. They killed Mythal. We don’t know much beyond that, but we can theorize that Mythal was keeping the others in check. With her gone, they could pursue their own agenda. That would have destroyed the world.

Solas had to make a choice. He could do nothing, or he could do something. He chose to do something. 

Many people feel that Solas should have found an alternative to forming the Veil. That he didn’t look hard enough. Basically, he threw a temper tantrum over Mythal’s death and thoughtlessly did something he now regrets. Except that isn’t what happened.

Solas has a temper. We see that when he flambés the mages who killed Wisdom. He can be impulsive. We see that in his romance.

What people forget is that he is always able to master himself. It takes one word to keep him from roasting the mages. He doesn’t like it, but he does it.

In his romance he always stops himself before things can go too far. He didn’t create the Veil in a day. There was plenty of time for him to cool off. 

Solas tells us he considered alternatives. We don’t know what they were. We just know the consequences of those solutions were so dire, he chose to lock away his favorite place in the world — the Fade — instead. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap. 

Sometimes there are no good choices. Solas chose the best solution he could, given the information he had. The consequences? Bad.

Does that mean Solas should be the scapegoat? Is he 100 percent to blame for what happened to the elves?

I would argue no. What he did caused the elves to fight amongst themselves. It meant they could not protect themselves when Tevinter came calling. How the elves were treated once conquered, however, had nothing to do with Solas. 

Humans behaved toward elves the same way Europeans did when they encountered indigenous people on other continents. They could have done it differently. Solas didn’t make that choice for them. Humans decided that for themselves. 

Solas wasn’t responsible for the obliteration of Halamshiral. The Chantry was. Humans chose to force elves into slums, to take away their rights, to kill them if they felt like it.

Humans may not have taken immortality from the elves, but they did take away their language, history and cultural identity. Solas was not responsible for that. Humans bear part of the blame for what happened to the elves.

Which leads to my final point. How far back in time should we look when it comes to assigning blame? For most people, unless they are historians, probably not very far. Solas created the Veil. He is to blame. Simple. Except that it isn’t.

Would Solas have created the Veil if the Evanuris had not become corrupt? No, he wouldn't have.

The Evanuris are ultimately responsible for what happened to the elves. Solas did what he had to do, to prevent something worse from happening. He may view it as a mistake but it’s only a mistake if another, better solution was available to him, and he chose not to take it. 

The key to redeeming him might be helping him see that. 

[wileycap]

WIBTA if I start an impromptu hostile takeover of my company, removing my boss from power to protect my son?

I apologize for the brevity of my post as this is a time-sensitive issue. Apologies for any spelling mistakes as well, I am typing this on my mobile device.

Last time I (M46) was on here, I posted about a separate matter concerning my son (M23) and an argument we had. I was unable to appreciate my verdict of YTA at the time, but I can now see that you were right. (Yes, I am the father who cut his son's hand off.)

Some backstory. I brought my son, "Lucas", to meet with my boss (M93). My boss is rather high up in the hierarchy of my organization and I had hoped for Lucas to be hired. If you remember my last post, Lucas has quite a checkered past.

At first, things seemed to be progressing well. My boss expressed immediate interest in hiring Lucas. Lucas was not so thrilled by this, which I understand, but at the time I truly thought it would be best for him.

There was an altercation occurring outside the office, where some of Lucas' friends were protesting against my organization. Sadly, the protest was violent. At this, my boss made a comment about the protestors facing consequences for their actions. This comment enraged Lucas and he attempted to strike my boss. I felt as if I had to intervene.

We fought. His skills have grown considerably, and after the minor revelation that I have a daughter (F23) who is Lucas' twin, he eventually managed to tap into his rage and defeat me, cutting off one of my prosthetic hands. (I am not angry about this. This to all the people who said I was a "monster" for cutting off his hand. Cutting off limbs is a regular occurrence in our line of work, and I actually find it a little strange that Lucas still has three organic limbs at his age. Not to mention my daughter, who still has all four as far as I know.)

I digress. Immediately after, my boss offered Lucas my job. I was initially dismayed, but ultimately happy that my son was getting this opportunity. However, Lucas turned it down, stating that he was happy to remain with his current employer, and stated this reason in doing so was the fact that I originally worked for them, and he wished to follow in my footsteps. Which is something I'm quite touched by.

My boss was shocked that Lucas would refuse the job, and chose to shock Lucas in turn. By which I mean he is currently electrocuting my son.

Technically our organization has a clause that allows me to perform what is essentially a hostile takeover at any moment, provided that I am strong enough to do so, but I'm having doubts. On one hand, there is an exposed reactor shaft nearby into which I could throw my boss, but then on the other hand, this would have dire ramifications for our organization as well as our religion, in which my boss is a central figure. This makes me think that I might be TA.

So, WIBTA?

Edit: Every passing moment adds to my son's agony. Please keep your comments on topic.

Edit: I don't know why it matters, but "mobile device" means my helmet HUD. I am not sitting here on my phone watching my son suffer. I am standing.

Edit: Yes, an exposed reactor shaft is not OSHA compliant. Again, not relevant.

Edit: Whether our system is a theocracy or not is irrelevant. I don't come on here to criticize your governments. Do me the same courtesy.

Edit: You people are useless. I'm just going to throw him.

[shitty-fallout-art]

my laziness knows no bounds

-Operating both within and outside of Diamond City, Don Valentine is founder and boss of the Valentine crime family that terrorizes the Commonwealth.

-Initially a private detective long before the bombs ever dropped, Valentine carried his practicality and strong sense of justice all the way from his hometown of Chicago to the streets of Boston, with the purpose of assisting the BPD with investigating and disbanding a local crime syndicate that had grown too powerful and elusive for them to handle.

-The result was, ultimately, beyond anything he could have prepared for, having finally met a criminal with the brains and the pull to consistently slip past between his fingers at every critical moment. Victories were small and irregular, and the consequences he faced for every inch he pulled as met with dire consequences that not even the BPD could protect him from. Of course, this was a factor that he had long since accepted, though he would later think himself foolish for ever believing that those closest too him would be spared from his involvement.

-It was not long after the murder of his fiance that Valentine was pulled from the case, as the agency could no longer justify his presence due to personal involvement with the case. He was ordered to return home and relinquish any files or evidence pertaining to Eddie Winter.

-Rather than obey directive, Valentine illegally pursued the case on his own, often clashing with the BPD in their own continued efforts to investigate. Accusations of hostility towards officers, illegal possession of evidence, breaking-and-entering, and kidnapping lead to his inevitable arrest and incarceration. Though he told officials that he would continue the case regardless of legal status, the news that the case had been dropped completely by the BPD broke some of his spirit in the end.

-On court orders, Valentine was taken away for psychological evaluation following his arrest, though the procedures were hardly in his benefit. As part of an under-the-covers collaboration between BADTFL and the Commonwealth Institute of Technology, Valentine was subjected to strange physiological treatments and tests that left him severely weakened and partially brain-dead. Afterwords, he would spend the rest of his short life cared for under prison medical staff.

-His story should have ended there, with his life taken by the bombs and everything of the old world buried away beneath a sea of nuclear hell-fire, and yet, almost a hundred years later, Valentine woke up again.

-One day, against all odds, Valentine found himself waking up in a garbage pile, in a place that was not Boston and a with a body that was not his own. Metal and plastic had replaced skin and flesh, the streets were decrepit and ruined, and everyone seemed so strange and hostile towards him.

-He...had adapted to life as best he could. He played fair and worked hard, he never pushed what generosity people would show him, and he kept mostly to himself. He used his talents and abilities when he could, for little gratitude or reward, and for a while, it seemed like people were at least becoming used to seeing this strange metallic man with memories of past in their lives.

-Until he had happened upon that dreaded caravan.

-He had no way of knowing at the time that they were slavers, he had only wanted to do what was right and help them find their "friend" that had run off. He had lead them straight to her, being rewarded with a thick sack of a caps and a promise for future work in the slaving industry should he want it.

-Without much further to go on, Nick did the only responsible thing he could think of to do, and make his way to Diamond City to tell the mayor, and the girl's father, what had happened. He had thought that he could find the opportunity to right the mistake he had made, though he was only dismantled and thrown out into the garbage like the scum he was.

-Nick was at least handy enough to put some of himself back together, and what he needed help with he got from making threats and empty promises to whoever he came across. Years living with head down and his ears to the ground made him a curious and unknown threat, dangerously intelligent and with the means to utilize his knowledge in a way that produced results.

-For months he tracked that caravan, pulling springs within settlements, using force and persuasion to gather information and assistance when needed, doing little favors for big rewards in order to further his goals.

-When he finally found that caravan, he brought the mayors daughter home with a box full of the slavers severed heads, and found himself suddenly feared and respected within the city.

-Though he had no intentions of becoming a detective, he couldn't refuse the luxuries that his work was suddenly providing. People were fearfully and generous, offering him many things in return for his services, and often his services required a heavy hand and an ugly attitude to reach the results they often desired. It was not a life he intended to lead, but one that he had suddenly found himself living, and he became content with juggling the complex morale of his character and his actions so long as it kept the Commonwealth functional and relatively peaceful.

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

-His character is a strange one, hardly something outright evil or carrying malicious intent, but far from good-nature in how he conducts his business. Results matter, and the means in which you get them can be forgiven so long as it helps somebody down the line. For people, there is often never a price too step for the sake of a loved one, and Valentine understands that all too well. A good person should be willing to get their hands dirty if need be, it just so happens that his hands are dirtier than he'd like to think.

-He is often referred too as the White Dove of the Commonwealth, a figure of wealth, refinery, and peace, able to go anywhere and to hear anything anyone says. What he knows and what he is capable of finding out is a source of great anxiety to his rivals and his allies.

-His gang is curious case as well, operating in favor of local communities with deep pockets and deeper consequences, but toeing that fine line of beneficial to most that ask of their services. They take and savor what they can, they procure funds though under-the-table jobs and extortion of businesses, but many are grateful for their protection.

-He is more uptight and refined compared to his original counterpart, just as snarky and playful, though keeping a short leash on his image and the respect it is supposed to carry with it. Much like General Garvey, his visage carries a purpose, and without it, he could not accomplish his goals as effectively.

-He has a family office within Diamond City, having close ties to the mayors office and the local newspaper, but his reach carries far outside of the city walls.

-Once he learned that Eddie Winter was still alive, his obsession and past feelings resurfaced brutally, causing him to be compulsive, short-fused, and Machiavellian in his hostility towards others. Though he want's to do more than simply kill Winter for what he did to his fiance. The past is dead and buried but those forced to live in the present have to carry on, and the resentment for what Nick had been forced to become had given him some ideas.fa

[simpforchuchu]

Platonic!Oya Boys x Oya!FemReader!reader 3

Summary: Amagai takes y/n hostage along with Tsukasa.

a/n: Hello! For a long time, i wanted to write a new part for this serie. Thanks for helping me @your-hannahbanana 💕 So hope you like it ❤️🌸

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: mention of torture, violence, fights, blood and usual hnl warnings

Other parts

* Tsukasa knew from the very beginning that there was something wrong with those ones with red uniforms. He had felt that it would end badly that day when their path was cut off in the tunnel. And he was blaming himself for not taking precautions about it before.

* Fujio was unaware of the danger. He didn't know that it was all Oya who were fighting.And at the end of the day, he would regret not listening to Tsukasa.

* Tsukasa sent y/n and Jamuo and told them to run away, when he sensed that this was not gonna be a simple fight.

* And y/n knew that her senpai was strong, but she had a bad feeling. That's why she didn't want to run away.

* Jamuo knew that y/n didn't want to run away. But he didn’t expect her to run back to the parking lot. And he had not the faintest idea that it would cost them dire consequences.

* When Y/n excitedly entered the parking lot, she didn't expect to see Amagi kicking her beloved senpai on the ground. Everyone turned to her as she cried out in fear. And that's when she realized what a horrible mistake she did.

* When Amagai looked at her and her horrified face, he knew immediately who it was. And he smiled when he saw that his second gift to catch Fujio came to his feet…

* Suzaki wanted no one to reach the young girl. And he was afraid too how far his friend might go.

* The last thing Tsukasa saw before he closed his eyes completely was Amagai and the others catching y/n.

* All Oya students were attacked. Most of them had serious injuries. Except Todoroki. He was just trying to reach out to his friends after he was done.

* Tsuji and Shibaman were badly injured, and they thought they were lucky that y/n wasn't by their side. But they didn't know that Senomon was more evil than Ebara.

* Yasushi and Nakaoka had returned to school after their friends were injured. And when they saw the state of everyone, the first thing that came to their mind was y/n.

* When Tsukasa opened his eyes, he looked around in fear. He would do anything to avoid seeing y/n right next to him, but it was too late. The young girl was covered in wounds and blood and tied like him.

* That's why he wanted her to run away. Y/n was still pretty naive and impulsive. She was acting without thinking like Fujio. But she wasn't as strong as Fujio, she can’t defend herself against so many people.

* Fujio never expected that the situation would be this bad when he returned to school. Just like the others…

* Nakaoka and Yasushi bore the weight of the sacrifice that their best friend had made for them. Most of their friends were out of reach and Fujio didn't know what to do.

* When Todoroki learned from Ebara that Amagai had taken Tsukasa and Y/n, he was truly scared for the first time in his life. And he was pulling back anyone he could from this war for them.

* Y/n was angry, reckless and acting without thinking. When Amagai hit Tsukasa, she was so enraged that she couldn't help but provoke him.

* Tsukasa, on the other hand, begged her to shut up, he could very well see the end of it.

* Amagai was easily provoked. It didn't matter if it was a boy or a girl. The only thing that mattered to him was his power and reputation.

* Y/n would do anything to keep Amagi away from her senpai. That's why she didn't care about the hard kick to her side and the blood she coughed up. Even though it hurt so much, she looked into the eyes of the boy he hated with the same determination.

* Tsukasa wanted this to end as soon as possible. He knew that y/n couldn't take it any longer.

* When Fujio returned to school in the evening, he was more determined and hopeful. While this hope increased with the return of Todoroki, their fear started again with Amagai's call.

* And none of them could erase from their minds the scream y/n made when he broke her finger.

* They were all vowing revenge, just like Tsukasa. He didn't care about his own torture, but he shouldn't have touched his loved ones...

* On the day of the fight, they also heard the noises outside and smiled at each other. Y/n could smile despite everything, and Tsukasa was grateful for that.

* Even when Amagai took the two of them to separate places, y/n did not lose hope. Because he knew very well that her friends would come for her.

* Yasushi could easily reach y/n after passing Gandhi. And he hugged her tighter than he had ever hugged anyone in his life.

* Y/n was so precious to all of them.

* When they went to the gym, they saw Fujio and the others fighting Suzaki. When Y/n saw Tsukasa and her tormentor fighting, she looked at him in horror.

* But Tsukasa was fighting, when he mercilessly broke Amagai's finger, he said to him "This is for Y/n!" and y/n could hear him.

* The fight between Tsukasa and Amagai did not last long, but Amagai would not admit defeat.

* Yasushi was holding y/n, Todoroki was holding Tsukasa. And they were all sure that this fight would end with Fujio's victory.

* When Fujio fell to the ground, y/n didn't hesitate for a second. Y/n admired his leader and was aware of his strength.

* Fujio Hanaoka was the best.

* When Fujio won, everyone was smiling. Fujio thought it was all over when he looked at y/n and Tsukasa and smiled. As Amagai approached from behind to stab him, Tsukasa shouted and everyone looked at them in fear.

* As Suzaki stopped Amagai, y/n moved on to Fujio. She hugged her leader tightly, Fujio smiled and patted her head, then walked towards Suzaki and spoke to him.

* When it was all over, the students of all three schools were smiling.

* The injured ones were taken to the hospital. Tsukasa was in a worse condition. But after y/n's finger was put in a cast and rest for a while she was able to stand up again.

* She enjoyed to go to Kiyoshi's and Tsuji & Shiba's rooms often and mess with them.

* Or pissing off Nakagoshi with Nakaoka…

* Todoroki also frequently visited the hospital. He knew that Tsuji and Shiba were fine. But y/n was seriously injured. Although he looked cold, he loved them, and this time he wasn't afraid to show it.

* Of course, Tsukasa had a long talk with y/n.He hadn't wanted her to come back for him no matter what, but he knew y/n loved everyone so much.

* Fujio was still angry, even though he tried to smile when he got to the hospital, he was too scared to lose them. All his friends were hurt.

* But y/n knew what would happen when he left. Seeing his friends in bandages made Fujio really upset and he was almost gonna cry. When he got to the terrace of the hospital, y/n followed him.

* “Fujio-san, you are a great leader no matter what. I know you will always protect us and stand behind us.”

* Y/n was so cute. Fujio always thought of that. But more importantly, y/n was very emotional and sincere.

* When everyone got out of the hospital, Motoaki said he was going to make fried noodles and Fujio wanted to throw a welcome party for them.

* Of course, Nakaoka accidentally said the surprise…

* Oya was a big family. A family that stabs each other, breaks their fingers, but doesn't let anyone else touch them...

HnL taglist : @straysugzhpe @tiddly-winx @ninamarie1994 @thatpoindexterpixy

[fleet-admiral-hiba]

OUR LITTLE FOX

A/n: when you get grounded by mistake, how will the Harbingers react to the one who put the blame on you?

"WHY?" You shouted frustrated. It was ridiculous. Why were you getting grounded (again) for something you didn't do? You could understand the last two times, but this wasn't it. Pierro, as usual, wasn't having none of your tantrum.

"You took something you shouldn't have. That's why" he said calmly, but he was close to snapping. Something you would avoid at any cost, but not this time.

"But I didn't. I found it in my room. I swear" his eyes twitched, he didn't want to shout at you, but he was so close. You tried again to tell your side but his booming voice shut you up. His eyes became immediately cold and steely.

"Go to your room. You are hereby grounded for two months. Any privilege is revoked. If this is the only way to make you learn, then so be it" he turned his back and walked away.

You were escorted to your room and you started crying. Bitter and hurt tears. Why didn't he believe you, when all you said was the truth?

He was fuming on his way to his office, when he met Pulcinella. "Do you really believe he did it?" he said, more inquisitive than anything else. He believed your story, you were genuine when you said you didn't know where it came from.

"It was in his room, and no one else could have taken it without us knowing. The guards confirmed this" he finished. Pulcinella wasn't buying it, but let him go to cool off. It was no use talking to him like this.

Days passed and your sobbing didn't stop. Their heart broke,but until you learned your lesson there was nothing they could do.

Pulcinella though suspected foul play, especially when other artifacts went missing. It couldn't have been you, you were locked inside your room.

On a weekly meeting he told the others as much, and they realised that something deeper must have been going on. To say they were ashamed was saying nothing: if you truly didn't do it, they had just punished you harshly for no reason.

"Pierro, something isn't adding up. There have been reports of missing artifacts later found in y/n's room, while they were inside. I think they're trying to pin this on him" said Childe. Capitano backed up this report with his intel, and it was more than suspicious. "We need to find them. We may have broken that trust our baby had for us" warned Pulcinella. It probably was low anyway, but they had to try.

A month almost went by, and you still didn't leave your room. You were heartbroken,.you felt betrayed.

Meanwhile...

A group of cicin mages was running away. They had been found and the consequences were going to be rather dire.

But when you were being chased by Capitano and Childe, nothing was going to save you.

Catching them one by one, the duo brought them to the cathedral, where the others waited. Not a word was said. They were watching them intently. Pulcinella stepped forth, a disappointed look on his face. "I thought you were all trained better than this. Blaming your misconduct on a kid is shameless, even by our standards. You will be punished, by being sent to Dottore and Sandrone" he said while the group pleaded for mercy.

There was nothing worse than being a test subject for either one of them. Death was not an option, instead their prolonged suffering only a certainty.

He wasn't finished. He turned back to the others, facing specifically Pierro, " You on the other end, need to go and apologize to y/n first. You delivered the punishment and you need to set the record straight. We are not free of judgement either, because we fell into this conspiracy too. We WILL make amends. Am I clear?" suddenly, not even the first harbinger felt safe. Pulcinella, when he wanted to be, could be scarier than the Tsaritsa.

They nodded and immediately scattered.

Pierro bracing himself made his way to your room. He was nervous. He had just made one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Knocking softly, he waited for any kind of reply. None came. Instead he heard a soft pitpat coming towards the door. "Love..." he started but quickly you backed away. You weren't going to fall for tha trick again. "Y/n, can I please come in? I know I made the biggest mistake of my life and I'm ashamed of it. I want to apologize..." he didn't finish the sentence before the door opened a fraction.

He could see your eyes puffy and red, oh love, he didn't mean to do that to you. "I'm incredibly sorry love. I was mistaken and I hurt you. I understand if you don't want me to come in or talk to you, but I want to make amend" he continued softly, while kneeling down. You were unsure but you opened the door for him to enter.

He opened his arms, and you dived straight in. Sobbing hard and uncontrollably, you spewed apologies after apologies. He shushed you gently. It wasn't your fault, it was all on him.

"I'm so sorry love, I'm so so sorry" he said, hugging you tight. Tears started to flow down his face. So much pain, he could feel your pain like it was his own.

Time flowed by but neither of you broke the hug. He let you vent out your frustrations, your pain and hurt. When you felt ready to step back, he let you go, but stood there facing you. "I won't...forgive you immediately. But I love you all" you mumbled lowly. He simply chuckled, glad to see you talking to him.

"It's okay love. That's on me. If you want, you could come with me, take a stroll through the palace?" He proposed, hopeful. You pondered the decision, but ultimately shook your head. You were exhausted. "All right, sleep well love" he tucked you in, kissed your cheeks and left.

.

.

.

Even the others apologized the next day. They let them fool them enough to hurt you, and they should have seen this. You repeated what you told Pierro the day before, and they had the same reaction.

There was a long way to go, but they'd wait gladly if that meant seeing you smile and joke freely around them.

It had been a close call...those mages won't be missed.

And if the agents were even more scared of the Harbingers, nobody batted an eye for that. They had it coming the moment they messed with you.

Their baby shouldn't have to suffer.

[insertpoetryhere]

Dadbastian Week: Friendly Advice

Fun fact, I had a whole different thing planned until I witnessed a teenage boy at work (I'm a teacher at a k-12 private school) attempt to cram himself in a locker and get uniform stuck on one of the hooks. My very southern coworker made some comment about natural consequences and this was born.

I helped him get out, don't worry. I'm not that mean.

Anyways, woo @dadbastianweek2023

Here's the thingy (ft. Teenage Stupidity)

Teenagers Scare the Living Shit Out Of Me

Sebastian’s greatest enemy was teenage impulsiveness.

At the beginning of their contract, Ciel was a quiet little thing. He rarely strayed from Sebastian’s side and generally seemed to find no interest in mischief. Back then, Sebastian used to shake his head affectionately and silently call him boring.

He really wished his child had stayed boring.

He wasn’t sure if the change had happened gradually but internally, or if a switch had suddenly been flipped in Ciel’s brain and told him he needed to find the stupidest and fastest way to kill himself immediately. Sebastian did know that his own exposure to the change was very abrupt.

They had been standing in the kitchen. Why Ciel was there and what he wanted was a mystery. It was a possibility that he had just come to stare wistfully at the oil bubbling on the stove.

Sebastian had not asked for the boy’s thoughts. He was fina assuming that the child had simply craved company and came down to watch him cook dinner. But Ciel, unprompted, uttered possibly the most horrifying sentence of Sebastian’s career.

“I want to put my hand in that.” 

Ciel was forcibly removed from the kitchen.

After that, Ciel’s impulses only grew. Chewing on spoons was a lower stake one, though it was very confusing and ended with Sebastian (all-powerful demon, over a millenia old, man with self respect) having to personally remove a spoon from a child’s mouth. 

More problematic was Ciel’s recent observation that the broken china saucer on the floor of his study looked “crunchy”. Or his fascination with the tools that hung next to the fire (the poker was his favorite). Or his brief infatuation with the way whiskey smells, leading to a dire need to know how it tastes immediately. In the form of an entire pint glass that Sebastain had to tear out of his hands with a loud, long lecture about the dangers of adolescent alcoholism.

Unsure and inexperienced on the goings on of the teenage mind, Sebastian had attempted to ask Bard for advice on what to do.

A mistake.

His reactions to each incident were as follows.

The spoon chewing; “Stick one in some tabasco for a bit. Bet he won’t wanna chew on that.”

The issues: That was a waste of Tabasco sauce. And cruel, even by Sebastian’s standards. The poor boy was born and bred in the English countryside, something like that might make his little heart give out.

The “crunchy” ceramics; “Tell him a teapot will grow in his belly or somethin’. Kids are malleable like that. Easy t’ trick.”

The issues: It’s a lie. A very stupid one at that. Also this exercise was starting to reveal some disturbing sentiments on Bard’s side.

The fire poker; “Boys will be boys.”

The issues: What did that mean? What did it have to do with a fire poker? Also it wasn’t even advice, it was just a statement.

The whiskey incident; “Ha! That oughta put some hair on his chest!”

The issues: That also wasn’t advice. He just laughed in Sebastian’s face for 13 minutes as he begged him to help him stop a teenage boy from drinking away his liver.

So no, Sebastian was no longer taking notes from Bard.

This meant he had to face his new rival on his own.

Stair banisters.

His relief for Ciel’s recovery from drunkenness (he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol) was replaced with a fascination with trying to slide down stair banisters. It made Sebastian wonder if he actually hated his job.

He could tell when he was going to try it too. Ciel would look around to see if anyone was watching and then attempt to launch himself down the stairs via banister. On top of being the most stressful test of Sebastian’s reflexes, it also proved that these were not impulses. The little shit was planning this.

He tried other outlets to solve his problems, really he did. Which meant he asked Agni, who placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll pray that everything works out.” 

That’s not really advice either!

So now he was sitting on a stool, late at night, brainstorming ways to make a child stop trying to throw himself down a flight of stairs for entertainment.

And since Bard was also there, he figured it would do no harm to bounce ideas off of him.

“Just let him do it.” Bard said, lighting his cigar with a blowtorch like he was trying to give Sebastian every reason to disregard his opinion.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “Why on earth would I do that?”

Bard took a long drag, and for a moment Sebastian thought that was the answer to his question until Bard finally spoke. ‘Just let him do it. Trust me.”

“If I let him do it,” Sebastian spoke slowly, as if he was talking to a small child. “He could get hurt.”

Bard shrugged the comment off (who was the demon here?), taking another drag. “Bet he won’t do it again.”

Sebastian went to rebuttal Bard’s comment, but had… nothing. Honestly, Bard’s idea had… dare he say, merit.

Sebastian shook his head, banishing the thought from his head.

He was clearly just getting desperate.

---

He was doing it again.

 Ciel looked over his shoulder casually. Then repeated the action on the other side. Clearly that eyepatch was much more of a hindrance than Sebastian thought since he was standing in the middle of the hallway, clearly watching this entire event unfold, very visible.

Regardless, Ciel had decided the coast was clear. The boy threw one leg over the banister and preparing to swing the other one up when-

“Young Master?” He shot up like a bullet, leaning against the railing and pretending to inspect the dust on his finger.

“The stairs are filthy.” He said, though his lips were pressed in too thin of a line for him to look anything but guilty. 

Sebastian said nothing, continuing to look between Ciel and the banister disapprovingly. Ciel shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, like he was waiting for the lecture he no doubt should be getting for attempting something so stupid.

“... Fine, go ahead.”

The words took Ciel so off guard that Sebastian worried the shock alone would send the boy rolling down the stairs head-first. “You’re… giving me permission?”

“Absolutely not.” Sebastian sneered. “But I cannot stop you. If you wish to crack your skull open and die then what can I do to stop you?”

A lot, but it isn’t a lie so long as he doesn’t answer his own question.

“So I can do it? I can slide down?” Ciel looked amazed, as if Sebastian had gifted him all the riches in the world (he didn’t need them) when really all he had done was passive-aggressively imply that he could slide himself down a stair banister.

Sebastian frowned. “I suppose, if you wish to ignore my advice and disappoint me further.”

Ceil maintained eye contact as he pulled himself up and sat directly on the flat porting of the railing, like he was waiting for Sebastian to change his mind at any moment and snatch him right off.

Sebastian bit his lip, maintaining the disapproving scowl on his face. “If you do this, I reserve the right to look down on you for it.”

Ciel narrowed his eye like he was weighing his options, and for a second Sebastian thought that maybe he was coming to his senses.

“... Deal.” Then he was off with one strong push.

---

“What’d the doc say?” Bard asked as Sebastian closed the kitchen door behind him.

He hung his tailcoat up on a small wooden coat rack, trading it in for his “dinner apron” (it differed from his lunch and breakfast apron, obviously. One shouldn’t mix their mealtime aprons) and let out a sigh. “Well, he isn’t concussed. But that bump on his forehead will be there for a while.”

“I see, well glad it wasn’t anything serious.” Now that Bard knew the young master was going to be fine, he seemed to have another question on his mind. “So… did he say anythin’ to you? Y’know, about future plans?”

Sebastian couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk that crossed his face. “As a matter of fact, he did. The young master expressed a disinterest in using the banisters as a slide any time soon.”

Maybe the two grown adult men should have felt a little guilty over their shared joy at a child’s misfortune. But the relief that their charge was now safe to let loose in the hallways unsupervised again was such a delight that it called for at least a little celebration.

Bard gave Sebastian’s arm a “light” punch. “What’d I tell ya? Natural consequences!”

Sebastian let out a huge sigh of relief, looking up towards the ceiling and stretching his back until something popped, something he was sure had been slowly forming since the hot oil incident. “Peaceful days are on the horizon. There isn’t anything left in this house that he could possibly try to maim himself with.”

Bard laughed, a sound that Sebastian was starting to think sounded cruel. Maybe just because it had been at his expense for too long now. “At least until he realizes he can fit in the dumbwaiter.”

Sebastian hummed in amusement. “Considering the blow he took to the head, I think we will have plenty of time before he’s functional enough to figure that one out.”

---

They, in fact, did not have plenty of time.

Ciel figured it out only a week later. And getting him out of the dumbwaiter was quite the ordeal in itself.

[countlessrealities]

@imprvdente sent:

While summoning demons was a highly unusual affair for most teenagers, Fish was quite used to it. When done responsibly, her father believed it was a very useful way to practice banishing demons, which was the core of his profession. Fish’s father was an exorcist. So, she was practicing, as she had done before.

Unfortunately, summonings were very finicky things. The tiniest little mistake could have dire consequences. Fish knew that, of course, but she still didn’t realize that she had skipped a whole sentence while reciting the ritual. And so, as she sat back, expecting a minor demon to appear in the binding circle she had drawn on the floor, she was very surprised -and quite worried- when the thing that appeared looked nothing like what she was trying to summon.

“You’re not Asb’el,” was all she managed to croak, staring at the figure that now stood in her living room. And, like any other teenager, her first thought was ‘my dad’s going to kill me.’

When he felt a tug inside his chest, pulling at the very core of his rotten soul, Alastor found himself at loss to know how to interpret it. It didn't help that everything happened too fast for him to process it, but the truth was that, even given enough time, he would have never guessed what was happening.

Summonings were anything but common. Sure, from time to time someone got sucked back on Earth, but it was always Hellborns. A sinner, being summoned? That was unheard of, for as much as the Radio Demon knew. And he happened to know a lot about how Hell worked.

However, if there was something his life and afterlife had taught him, was that no rule was absolute.

His current situation was nothing if not evidence of it. The room he landed in was nothing too odd, all considered, but the sky outside the window was blue, and the girl who was staring at him from outside the rune circle didn't look dead. Nor did she feel and smell like she was.

Earth. He was back on Earth, in the living world. What a wondrous, exciting, interesting turn of events. This little trip hadn't had the best timing, since he was dealing with the aftermath of the battle against Heaven, but he couldn't help being intrigued.

Bright red eyes bounced around the room, taking in the decor. His surroundings looked oddly outdated, which was something he could appreciate but that was curious nonetheless. Coupled with the fact that a child had a more or less in-depth knowledge of black magic, it definitely made that inconvenience almost worth the trouble.

"I'm afraid not, my dear. You obviously wrote the wrong address," he commented, grin tight and head tilted on one side. He tapped one of the symbols with the bottom end of his microphone. "This is misspelled. And, if I can hazard a guess, that's not the only thing you got mixed up."

With that, he casually walked out of the supposedly binding circle, as if it was nothing but a chalk line. Which, technically, was what it literally was.

"Alastor! A pleasure to meet you!" he introduced himself, with a little theatrical bow. "And what can I call you, my darling girl?"

[a-for-alternative]

Were you an only child? What was it like?

I was.

It's a double edge sword, though you don't realize it until the time with your parents is tapering down to a point, then only you will be there to bear the brunt of it, especially if you don't walk the straight and narrow... you'll be the only scape goat or return on investment or sunk cost in their little venture.

You're never quite a person unto yourself.

They can't separate you from what you personify.

When you get out of turn, they reveal all the wounds left behind on them by those you're descended from. They will say you are demonstrating all the worst traits of someone that's been dead for decades, especially if you've never met, then they'll say you got that dreadful disposition from the other parent-- they'll tell you all the things they despise about each other, try to excoriate whatever traces of them they see blooming in you and leave you wondering,

'Is this what familial love amounts to?'

'Surviving each other long enough for one to drop dead?'

I was the product of a mistake made by two adults that knew better, but they warmed to the idea of mistaking me into existence anyway-- choosing not to terminate things before I could be burdened with the consequences of their actions.

... Even still... being the singular progeny, you are prized and venerated for the sake of saving face, if only because not doing so would communicate more that they were failed parents than you were a failed child-- ils pourraient vous dire que vous êtes un petit garnement, un bâtard ingrat, ... but they will refuse any such accusations from others,

. . . meme si elles sont vraies...

You're trapped under the subjugation of two people who do not sympathize with you and cannot empathize with you, see no value beyond your utility, see no intent beyond what they assign to your actions.

Solitude, through it's familiarity, becomes a comfort, you adapt but like trying to mature in a tight box, you will grow malformed and... that kind of isolation tends to engender some... eccentricities that are not compatible with social mores.

Fate relieved me of them, but I found adjusting very difficult. Misery and purposelessness replaced the familiarity of loneliness as I became another invisible blight of society, a faceless ward of the system that tucks away all these unsightly human tragedies like me.

I would be lying if I said being brought to this-- to our- institution wasn't a relief-- for a short time, I had returned to a position I felt most suited to; high pressure, high expectations, leniency for the sake of no one responsible for me wanting to admit they may have made a mistake...

Then, .... He came.

You see, they had decided I wasn't enough.

[hqmillioncorn]

FFXIVWrite Day twenty-three: Suit

with @windupnamazu 's Butter

“Stupid!” Babycorn kicked at the bed. “I’m so stupid!!”  Where had her powers been when she needed them?! Floating in the air? changing someone’s fate? Casting powerful spells? They had all turned out to be useless in protecting Cherrypit. And now that he was gone she couldn’t even use her powers safely! It was either him or her, and to make that decision would probably literally end up killing her.  “How could I be so stupid…”  Babycorn dropped to her knees around the shards of glass that was once a mirror. 

“Are you ready to go Bebe?” 

Tilika’s voice echoed from the outside. Inside of her room Babycorn quickly shut the small passageway she had been using to look at the world Chelinka and Yuri had remade together. “Almost ready!” Babycorn yelled back. It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was all dressed up with shoes on and only missing one thing until she was ready to go out. 

Now that she had fully accepted her identity as just another Chelinka out in the numerous worlds out there Babycorn knew what ‘she’ and her brother had done. Completely remaking the universe sounds like something that she would get super grounded for doing. 

“They all looked so happy…” She was a little jealous. Chelinka had her brother and both her parents. Babycorn only had her brother, and thanks to her stupid mistakes there was a chance she would never see him again. She would never get to tell him how much she loved him, or how sorry she was. 

Babycorn knew Cherrypit was going to be fine. Eventually he would wake up again. Everyone told her so but there was always that nagging thought that maybe she could do something about it.

She wasn’t supposed to use her Starsinger powers too much or else there would be dire consequences to it. The exact consequences were unknown to her and pretty much everyone else. Though one of those had been getting herself into a trance-like state where she looked awake but really wasn’t. 

Tilika had also said her eyes had glowed an eerie golden color the whole time. 

That sounded horrible. It only made her hate her eyes that much more. 

Babycorn sighed and picked out a hat from a pile. It was a large white sun hat, she often wore it during fishing trips all so she could pull the brim over her eyes and cover them so she wouldn't be able to see any fish. “If it works for that…” Then the hat would work to cover her eyes too. 

At least, from anyone taller than her it would. 

Which was fine because almost everyone in Old Sharlayan that Tilika talked to was taller than Babycorn anyway. It always made her really small. Doubly so because whatever it was they talked about mostly flew over her head anyway, aside from a word or two. 

“Okay I’m all ready!” Babycorn adjusted the sun hat on her head and just before she left to join Tilika outside, she happened to catch a glimpse of herself in her mirror. She hadn’t turned it around today. Her ugly yellow eyes stared right back at her, they were dripping with disappointment. 

Babycorn walked closer to the mirror and turned it away. 

That was enough of that. 

Yesterday Tilika had asked Babycorn if she had wanted to accompany her to the Studium tomorrow. Which was today. Tilika had to run some of her studies on Starsingers with one of the professors there and had thought that Babycorn might have wanted to do something else besides running cooking experiments in the kitchen with Cherrypit’s dolls. 

She was delighted when Babycorn said yes but now she was wondering if it had been too soon in taking her outside.

Tilika looked up, today was a very cloudy day. There wasn’t really a reason for anyone to wear a sun hat in this kind of weather. Which Tilika would never say outright but when she considered Babycorn’s earlier behavior it did bring some cause for concern.

“Babycorn?” Tilika waited for Babycorn to look up at her until she continued but she never did. “Are you feeling okay? Do you want to go back home and wait for me there?” 

Tilika knew that some days were worse than others for Babycorn. Sometimes there would be days where she wouldn’t care less about them, going outside and talking to all the gleamers that passed by their house everyday. Then other days Tilika would struggle to even get Babycorn to look at her. 

Today was looking to be more of the latter. 

“I’m okay.” Babycorn kept looking down at the ground. Her free hand tugged on her sling, something Tilika noticed that she did when she was nervous nowadays. “I think I’m just a little hungry.” 

“Ooooh. I see!” 

Tilika had already told Babycorn that she shouldn’t be ashamed of her eyes but it was much easier said than done. 

She knew that to Babycorn the color of her eyes represented much more than just being ‘alive’ again. It meant that in her eyes she had failed in protecting Cherrypit, she had let him get hurt and in turn had broken the promise she made to him and her parents so many years ago.

No amount of tasty snacks that Tilika gave Babycorn could ever fully solve her younger cousin's dilemmas.

“Hey I have an idea.” Tilika stopped walking and though they were just a few more minutes from reaching the Studium, she turned and began to lead Babycorn down another path. “Why don’t we go get something to eat first? I hear the Last Stand has some new food on the menu we can try!” 

“Like what?”

‘Wow she’s really in a funk…’ Normally Babycorn wouldn’t care less about the specifics of food. Tilika always got a ‘leap before you look’ sorta vibe from her. “Well…Um…?” Truth was that she had no idea if the Last Stand did have any new food, that little lie was supposed to get Babycorn excited to try new food. “I’m not too sure! But we can go eat one of those tasty burgers you liked so much!” 

“Oh. Okay.” 

Tilika mouthed a silent ‘Yes!’ to herself. While whatever problems Babycorn had with herself couldn’t be solved with a tasty snack or a burger, it certainly could help her feel a little better. Even if it was just for today. 

The Last Stand was as busy as ever, maybe even more so given that it was currently the morning rush. Though the line was just a little longer than usual, neither Tilika or Babycorn had any problem with waiting and it wasn’t like they were in a rush or anything. 

Having made their orders, both cousins took their seats and waited until their burgers were delivered to them.

Tilika watched as person by person kept walking up to them to thank them for helping to save the world. Babycorn would mumble a quiet “You’re welcome.” and then try to cover her face with her sun hat. Then Tilika would take control of the conversation, asking whoever had walked up to them how they were doing and to have a nice day. 

Just as Tilika thought another person was walking up to them to try and talk to Babycorn, someone caught her eye. It wasn’t just another stranger walking up to them, it was also someone coming to bring them their burgers.

“Good morning Tilika! Babycorn! I got your burgers! I hope you like them!”

Babycorn knew that voice from anywhere. Her head jerked up and she found herself staring at her good friend Butter. Who she had forgotten entirely was visiting Old Sharlayan for the time being. “Butts?!” What was he doing here???? Specifically?!

Butter smiled as he dropped the bag he was holding into Tilika’s hands. “I’m just helping out here a little!” He could have sworn that he told Babycorn about this already but maybe he had told her while she had been asleep in bed. “I kinda just needed something to do and..Well-this is just where I landed!” 

“Oh…” 

That’s when Babycorn realized something. 

Butter was shorter than her. 

Without so much as a warning, Babycorn jumped out of her seat and took off running, pulling her hat down as she ran. “Bebe?!” Tilika jumped up to run after her but was surprised at just how quickly Babycorn had run off, there was no sign of her anywhere. “Damn it…” Tilika whispered to herself.

Tilika decided to do what she did best and ask people around if they had seen where Babycorn had run off to, trying to gather enough clues to deduce in which direction she had run off in and where she could have gone. 

She failed to notice that Butter had also run off, just as fast as Babycorn.

“Excuse me!!” 

Butter maneuvered his way around another person that had been walking the opposite way he had been running. Being small was something that really got on his nerves sometimes but it did have its advantages. Like making it easier to run past a large group of people. 

Eventually he had followed Babycorn all the way to the edge of the water. 

Babycorn was sitting behind a large crate just out of view. She was resting her head on her knees, quietly crying to herself. 

Butter walked closer to her and stopped just short of reaching her. There was no plan for what to do next, but he couldn’t stand by and watch Babycorn be sad. If anything, Butter didn’t want to leave her to cry all by herself.

Butter carefully took a seat a little bit next to her, not too close and not too far. “Is everything okay?” Well duh! No it’s not! Why are you asking thaT?! “I-I’m sorry if I did anything it’s-!!”

“It’s my eyes…” Babycorn pulled down the brim of her hat even further, stretching it further than she ever had. The thought of ripping her hat never even crossed her mind. “They’re ugly. I hate them.” What else was she supposed to say? That was the basic gist of it, and yet despite that Babycorn kept talking.

“They just-remind me of how I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t save Cherry…”

At some point Butter must have seen her eyes at their worst, when she had been bedridden for who knows how long. Tilika told her all about how her little boy friend would come and bring gifts to her and leave in a hurry. That couldn’t have been anyone but Butter. “I’m sorry you had to see my stupid eyes Butts.” Her hideous eyes that were good for nothing but telling people that she was a failure. 

Butter gently placed his hand on her’s, once he did Babycorn’s grip on her hat slightly loosened as she turned her head just a little to look at him. 

“Um, I think they’re pretty.” 

“HeEh?!” 

That comment had caught Babycorn so off-guard that her heart started beating just a little too fast. 

Babycorn had wanted to say something like, ‘What are you talking about?!’ or ‘You’re crazy!!’ but for some reason she found herself so flustered that she found herself incapable of saying anything besides, “P-Pretty?!” 

Honestly Butter was crazy, but crazy in another sense. And for a certain person sitting right next to him.

“U-Um…! Yeah!” 

Babycorn didn’t know what to think. “Eve-Even if I let everyone down? I…I couldn’t do anything to help Cherry. Everything I could do…! I couldn’t do it! I couldn’t do anything…!” There must have been something different she could have done. Anything.

“I think…You didn’t let anyone down. Especially not Cherry.” 

Babycorn didn’t know what to think. “I…didn’t?” That couldn’t possibly be right. 

“I don’t think anyone could have done what you did any better than how you did it.” Butter leaned back and looked up at the cloudy sky above them. Having grown up the way he did, Butter understood what Babycorn was going through more than the usual person did, maybe even more. “If I had to do what you did with Pancake…I probably would have done the same things as you.”

Babycorn sniffled, “...What do you mean?”

“There’s not really a guide for kids like us to learn how to protect our younger siblings all by ourselves. I know you did your best, we both did the best we could!”

“You protected Pancake…” 

“With a bunch of help!” Cinnamon had been a big help and even then Butter wouldn’t have traded raising Pancake for anything in the world. “Then I met all of you and things just got even better!”

Babycorn couldn’t help but think back to just how mean she used to be to everyone back then. It made her feel a little bad that Butter was calling meeting her a good thing, when she was nothing but trouble. 

“Um…” Butter looked around nervously, “What I’m trying to say is um, I think you did the best you could and what happened wasn’t your fault. I’m sure of it!” 

Babycorn let her hat go, her eyes were wide and she turned to look right at Butter. 

“I-It wasn’t…?” She had already been told this countless times. There was something to be said however, to hear this from someone who knew just how hard it was to go through the same thing as you. Almost as if it was an almost perfect reflection of their experiences. Though Babycorn would never wish for Butter to understand her experiences completely. 

“It wasn’t!” Butter repeated. He still wasn’t quite sure what had happened to Cherrypit but he was still sure of his stance. No matter what. It wouldn’t be until after he left Old Sharlayan that Lunya would tell him what exactly happened. Then he would find himself weirdly disappointed when he learned that Zenos had already been killed. 

“Huh.” Babycorn slumped down, “That’s weird…” She touched one of her eyes with her hands and looked down at it.

“Hmm?” 

“I kinda feel a little better?” Not completely but a start was a start, for today.

“Oh! I’m glad!” Butter was happy he could help. Even just a little. 

The two decided to sit there and watch the ocean waves for a little while. Until Babycorn spoke up again. “So, um…?” Babycorn tapped her fingers together, “You said my eyes looked pretty…?” 

At that moment Butter realized exactly what he was doing. His face blushed a deep red. “D-Did I say that?! When did I say that?! I-I mean they are pretty but-but I mean I-?! Um…!!!!” What had gotten into him?! 

“Do my eyes look like something?!” Whenever Babycorn was able to hear Airy reading one of those cheesy B’ig romance novels to herself she would often hear lines about how someone’s eyes reminded them of the ocean or of a grassy hill or whatever. She couldn’t quite remember. 

“T-They…Look like eeeeyes…?” 

HE WAS BLOWING IT. 

“Wow! Thanks Butts!” Babycorn accepted the compliment nonetheless. Very much like a normal person would. 

Butter, an equally very normal person, found that he couldn’t quite keep his mouth shut. “I guess…They sort of remind me of the sun.” He could still remember the first time he had seen Babycorn’s eyes. It was almost like he had been blinded like the sun itself, but not in a bad way.

“...You’re not supposed to look into the sun!” Babycorn reminded him. She had learned that lesson the hard way many years ago and kept re-remembering it until it finally stuck just last year. 

“I-I mean like-sunlight?” Butter didn’t quite know how to explain it. “The way it sorta…shines down on everything in a really warm light. The little sun rays that peek through the window sometimes and if you put your hand in them they feel nice. And like the way the sun sometimes breaks through the clouds on a really cold day and you can feel it almost hugging you. Helping you to be warm. Sorta like that.”

Babycorn was feeling really dizzy.

“They suit you!”

Tilika, who had eventually tracked Babycorn down, had watched the whole exchange from a distance. 

She munched down on her burger, tears on her face. “They’re so cute… What the heck?” Tilika was resisting every urge in her body that was telling her to run up to Babycorn and hug her and tease her about how she just needed a cute boy to make her feel better. 

“Ugh! Tell me about it.” Lunya agreed.

“WHATTAHECK?!”

[darklordazalin]

Azalin Reviews Darklord Thakok’An

Domain: Kalidnay Domain Formation: 570 BC Power Level: 💀💀 ⚫ ⚫ ⚫ Sources: Domains of Dread (2e), Forbidden Lore Boxed Set (2e) Thakok-An’s story is rather short and uninspired. Her Domain, Kalidnay, was taken by the Mists from the desert world of Athas. Athas is a burnt planet of scarce resources where everyone struggles to survive beneath the “Dark Sun” of this world. Kalidnay is surrounded by the Silt Sea, a basin of loose sand that is near impassable. The Mists or Ravenloft are only present in this insubstantial island domain at night and only within the Silt Sea. Though, much to Anhktepot’s dismay, this Domain, though small, is still more populated than Har’Akir. Though, to be fair, that’s not a hard thing to accomplish. Kalidnay was ruled by the sorcerer King Kalid-Ma. Sorcerer Kings, in my very humble opinion, are the absolute best type of ruler. Cities and realms prosper under the rule of one gifted in the arcane when they devote themselves to their land. The goal of this particular sorcerer King was not to rule, but to transform himself permanently into a Dragon of Athas. We all have our peculiarities, I suppose. Thakok-An was utterly devoted to her King as one’s servants should always be to their sovereign. Upon learning of a plot against her King to stop his transformation, Thakok-An put an end to the treachery and then sacrificed her entire family to him in order to complete his “I want to be a dragon for some reason” ritual. She made a common novice mistake and did not thoroughly review the requirements of the complex ritual, which had dire consequences. Because of her failure to follow directions, the lifeforce of the people of Kalidnay were drained from them completely and her precious sorcerer King fell into an eternal nap. Upon the completion of the faulty ritual, the Mists claimed Thakok-An and Kaldinay. Now Thakok-An rules her realm as she, ever dutiful, continues to watch over her sleeping King. Even though all he does is sleep more than a house cat, Kalid-Ma requires a steady supply of energy to ensure his continual existence. In order to satisfy his sleeping hunger, Thakok-An hosts grand arenas where combatants fight to the death. This is apparently enough to keep this non-dragon sleeping king from draining all the life of Kalinday away. Thakok-An fears wizards above all else as they have the power to destroy or awakened her king. Sometimes I think it’d be amusing to send one of my apprentices to Kildinay and see how they fare… As a Darklord, Thakok-An is considered to be a powerful priestess and psionicist, though has no special powers associated with her “Darklord” status. Hence her 1 skull ranking. I would have made it less, but I do appreciate her fashion choices and wielding a spear made of bone only increases my admiration.

[fallingdarknesswarrior]

💬 AND 🗯!!

SEND 💬 FOR MY MUSE TO BLURT OUT THE FIRST THREE ADJECTIVES THAT COME TO THEIR MIND WHEN THEY THINK ABOUT YOURS!

"Loud." Not only in her speech, but in her actions - in the sincerity of her words and the conviction of her opinions... loud in the way she loved. Miyako was so noticeable, in a way that Kouichi wasn't - couldn't -- in a way Kouichi slightly envied.

"Energetic."

Miyako's work ethic - the boundless spirit she had for the people around her - like a whirlwind of force, buoying those she cared for as a rigorous wind tautens sails. Kouichi felt as if he could run for miles if Miyako was motivating him.

"Active."

Miyako always seemed to be working on something. For others and for herself, none of Miyako's actions were without some intent. Kouichi severely admired that even Miyako's mistakes and failures seemed purposeful - or at least to have meaning and substance enough for Miyako to push herself ever forward.

bonus: send 🗯️ for three insulting ones instead!

"Brash." Tactless. Thoughtless. Butting in on people's privacy, stomping across their boundaries. Trying to get to know him. His past. His twin. Miyako was too much, sometimes...

"Obnoxious."

Sometimes too loud, too energetic; always in-your-face and ostentatious when subtlety would be more suitable. Never quiet - exposing the truth of things and not noticing - not realizing - how defenseless that made him feel.

"Naive."

A pure heart who wore her emotions on her sleeve, easily swayed by the emotions of others. Easily coerced. Easily hurt. Too sweet to consider the weight of the darkness effecting other people. Too optimistic to understand more dire consequences.