#but it is so ugly i simply have not been able to muster the nerve to actually look at it again to vacuum it

[ikyw-t]

well well well in tonight's incredibly boring life update, i saw a spider moving very quickly in the downstairs bathroom whilst watching tv and by the time I got back with an appropriate weapon it had run to the corner so obviously my only recourse was to go upstairs and take an early shower but now i want to get a snack and also watch a movie and i can watch upstairs if i need to but it is so upsetting to me that it is still there. like bro this is a major disadvantage of being home alone it is so extremely uncool. literally will not be able to use that bathroom until it is killed. i have never known peace a day in my life

[bimswritings]

This Is Our Way-Ch.2

Summary: What happens when you make the mistake of thinking you can steel from a  Mandalorian? You land yourself and job and a plethora of adventures and  emotion you could never even dream of.  The question is; where will  those emotions lead.

Warnings: Typical canon violence, NSFW implications and scenes later on

Ch.1

Read on Ao3

Normal Blog Request: Open

“What do you want.” The stranger's voice comes out muffled through the modulator of his helmet. It's deep and raspy, cutting through the air cleanly even though he speaks in little more than a mumble. The voice of a man who’s been hardened by the galaxy, ready to face anything in his way, and it sent shivers down your spine.

“You certainly don’t waste time now, do ya? Well, I can respect that , as I to, am a very busy man.” He smiles, lifting his hand to point directly at him.

“Your armor. Take it off.”

The air itself changes, shifting without anyone even moving. Even from your perch so far above you can feel it, becoming charged to the point it was almost suffocating, sending every nerve on edge.

You always knew Leon was a few brain cells shorter than average, but this? This was beyond stupid! Trying to take away a Mandalorian’s armor was as sure of a death sentence as stealing from the emperor himself.

“I’m going back to my ship. Move, or I’ll make you.”

You perked at his words. He wasn’t looking for you? It was really just by chance that he had wandered through here? If that were the case, then the universe really was against you. Not that you had any doubt about that in the first place.

Leon laughed. “Good one. But seriously. Hand it over.” The other three had been moving while he talked, slowly stalking towards the armor clad man until he was surrounded. If he noticed them he didn’t show any outwards signs of it, remaining still as he stared at the man in front of him.

A moment of silence. Then two.

“Alright then. Your funeral.” He nodded to the others.

All at once they were on him. It was a mess or limbs, arms and legs flying as each man fought for the advantage. It seemed that, by all means, the Mandalorian had it. Within seconds they were all relieved of their weapons, blades and blasters skittering across the alley as the fight continued.

It almost frightened you, the speed and efficiency with which he worked. Anything that happened to get past his defenses simply bounced off his armor.

‘I need to leave.’ You realized with a chill as he landed a particularly hard hit on Corin, a crack coming from his face as he fell to the ground, yet he still got back up, blood now streaming down his chin.

Slowly, you began to edge back. If you were lucky they would all kill each other and you’d have nothing to worry about. With Leon gone there would be no gangs after you, and apparently the Mandalorian had no interest in you. It was a win-win situation. For you at least.

Then, just as you were at the edge to freedom, a cry stopped you in your tracks. It wasn’t the sound of grunts and squeals of pain from fighting. No. This was higher, more surprised than anything. The voice of a child.

Despite your better judgment, you turned back, unable to walk away if there was a chance there was some kid hiding in the shadows who got mixed up in this. That would have been more normal then what you actually saw.

The pod the Mandalorian had been traveling with earlier was now open. Inside of which rested not supplies like you had thought, but a small creature of some sort. Unlike anything you had ever seen, green skin and drooping ears poking out from a small head. Leon stood above it, the fighting taking a momentary pause with his discovery.

Producing his blade, he brought it closer to the small bundle as your heart jumped to your throat.

“No! Don’t hurt him!” The Mandalorian grunted, fighting forward against the grip his current opponents had on him.

Leon only pressed the blade closer, making it cry out more. “Not so fast there. Unless you want to find out what color its blood is, I suggest you cooperate.” The armored man froze, body tense as he raised his hands in surrender. Leon nodded to the others, who produced a pair of magnet cuffs. Kicking him down, they forced arms hands behind his back and restrained him into submission. All the while Leon watched with a sick sense of glee.

It surprised you. Mandalorians were supposed to be ruthless killers who fought simply for the joy of fighting. Yet here he was giving himself over for a child. One that didn’t appear to have any relations to him unless he was hiding quite the set of ears under that helmet.

Once he was sure the Mandalorian was restrained, Leon turned his attention back to the pod.

“I didn’t know you guys liked to keep pets. Thought you liked to do the whole ‘lone wolf’ thing.” He leaned in, examining the creature before picking it up to look closer. The Mandalorian jerked, earning a warning glance.

“Though I have to say, I’ve never seen a creature quite like this one before.” Smirking, he turned back, knife raised. “He’ll make a fine addition to my collection.”

You were never one to get involved, put yourself in danger for someone else's sake, but if there was one thing that threw your carefully honed self preservation skills out the window it was kids. They were innocent. Something to be protected and nurtured. They didn’t deserve any kind of pain, no matter who they were traveling with. Besides, you owed the man one. He had bought you dinner after all.

Hopefully this wasn’t going to hurt as much as you thought it would.

One step forward and gravity took effect, hurtling you towards the ground with more speed than anyone was comfortable with. It did the job though. Everett’s body crumpled beneath you, taking the brunt of the impact as your weight crashed down on top of him. It was still a rough landing, and the air was almost completely knocked from your lungs, making it that much harder to struggle to your feet. The cushion of a man however, did not make a single movement, let alone sound. While he wouldn’t remember what happened, the others sure would, their heads whipping around to face you, a mix of surprise and anger.

Leon was the first to speak up.

“What the fuck was that! You think you can just attack my guys!”

Pushing yourself up, you tried to ignore the throbbing pain as you mustered the best smile you could, sauntering your way over to where he stood. As you passed, you could feel the gaze of the others following you, keenly aware of one specifically as you wondered if he recognized you.

“I was just out, seeing if there were any tipsy troopers I might be able to snag.”

“Never a day of rest for you.” He tilted his chin. “So what warranted this ‘drop in’.”

“Oh, you know. Just saw you from above and thought I might say hello. Though I am surprised.” Finally approaching him, you added a little extra sway to your hips, feeling utterly ridiculous as you did so. Balancing on a crate, you rest your chin on your palm and leaned in just a bit too much. “I never thought you would nab yourself a Mandalorian. I must say, I’m impressed. Maybe I misjudged you.”

It made you almost sick, speaking in such a lustfully sweet tone, but it worked wonders on Leon. His chest expanded like a puffer pig, cocky as he proceeded to brag. The entire time you had to resist rolling your eyes.

He went on talking about nothing but how strong and influential he was, all the things that came with leadership and so on, until you cut him off. Eyes moving towards the creature in his hands. Your true target.

“It would be a real shame to kill that thing. Girls love moving in with guys who have pets.” Batting your eyes, you added a bit of extra charm and stuck your lower lip out in a pout. You had seen some of the escorts in the cantina doing it, and hopefully you were doing it right or you would look like a real idiot.

“Mind if I look at it. It’s pretty cute.”

His eyes widened a fraction at your words, before narrowing back down into little more than slits as a hungry look took over his face. Wordlessly he tossed it over to you, eliciting yet another cry from the bundle while you fumbled to catch it. Seeing it closer now, it was even funnier to look at. Wide eyes stared back, big and watering. It was cute, in an almost ugly way.

‘Asshole.’ You seethed, watching Leon move around you, now fully focused on the man being beaten to the ground by the others. Trying not to winch with each hit, you hoped his armor was as strong as rumored.

“I knew you’d come to your senses soon enough. Just playing a bit hard to get. I can respect the chase though.” He spoke, unaware as you slowly lowered the child back into the pod it had previously resided in. The small creature made a sound of confusion, cocking its head to the side as you fiddled with the buttons on the side, finally finding the right one to close it. One less thing you would have to worry about.

Making sure it was closed, you began moving once again, balancing on the balls of your feet as you approached.

“But now you’ve finally picked the right team.” Leon leveled his blade at the now laying Mandalorians neck, pushing just enough to force his head back.

“Yeah. Unfortunately, I’m not much of a team player.”

Your leg comes up in a swift kick, nailing him between the legs and dropping him to the ground as his mouth opened in a soundless scream. Your other leg rose in quick succession, catching him in the side of the head and knocking him to the ground.

Panting, you turned back towards the remaining two just in time to dodge a jab from Sho. Jumping back you were forced onto the offensive as he followed, swinging his blade in wide arcs. Further and further you were driven, and you could feel yourself quickly losing stamina as your breathing came in short gasp. You were a pickpocket after all. Not being seen was the basis of your skills, and while you knew how to fight it was never your strong suit. Brute force was out of your range.

Regardless, you fought on. Step after step, swing after swing, you evaded. If Sho hadn’t been so young and unseasoned he would have had you already. Unfortunately, he had help. A familiar cry reached your ears, piercing through the adrenaline and drawing your attention.

The child.

Looking past Sho, you could see Corin trying to break into the pod. Its doors were already open slightly, and the metal rod he had wedged between the plates only continued to widen the space.

‘Shit.’

Taking a deep breath, on the next arc of his swipe you pushed forward. Managing to grab a stray pipe as you passed, you grabbed Sho’s arm by the wrist, twisting the knife from it and shoving away. Pivoting around as soon as you were past, you brought the improvised weapon in a wide arc to make contact with a painfully sounding thud.

Not pausing in your momentum you turn to Corin, still occupied with the pod, leaving his back wide open. Two small leaps and you’re there, giving him the same treatment you had Sho, his body falling in a heap.

Panting, you peeked inside to find the creature unharmed, if not a bit scared. Though to be honest you yourself were shaken, the pipe falling from your hands with a clatter. As soon as you got the Mandalorian from his binds you could consider yourself even and leave. You would never have to worry about this again, apart from being extra careful around Leon from now on. He wasn't the type to take too kindly when his pride was hurt.

“Don’t worry bud. Stay there. I’ll go check on-”

A hit from the left, catching you in the temple and blindsiding you. Clenching at the injury, a boot found itself onto your back, forcing you to the ground before toeing you over.

“You. Little. Bitch!” Leon seethed from above. Spinning his blade around, he buried it into your leg, ignoring your cry of pain as you struggled. He repeated the process, striking the flesh again and again until it was little more than a bloody mess. All the while you prayed to the Maker he didn't an artery.

If Leon didn’t kill you now, surely you would die soon. A wound like this on the streets was a death sentence, especially without any medical equipment. If infection didn’t get you then lack of work would.

“Thought you could get the drop on me? Now, instead of sleeping with me, you can sleep in the ground.” His bloodied boot met your torso, earning a small crack and wheeze for his efforts. Trying to crawl away was no use, his other foot pining your wrist to the ground as he leaned over your body. Hand moving lower, your confusion turns to anguish as fingers jab into your body, entering from a wound you must have received in your skirmish with Sho. The adrenaline had kept you from feeling it before, but now? Now you wished you had remained unaware.

“You know,” Leon grunted, his fingers twisting inside and making you gasp as you felt something pull. “I knew I’d be in your guts one day, but I figured it would be a little more enjoyable for both of us.”

You hardly hear him, pain consuming every crevice of your body and invading your mind. It's like everything was burning with an invisible flame and nothing could put it out. Now matter how hard you struggled, how much you cried out for the maker to just end it, to let you die, it continued. It felt as if it was coming from everywhere, replacing the blood in your veins if only to spread more.

Only once in your life had you experienced anything even close to this, and you had barely walked away with your life then. But now…

You were drained. The last of your fight leaving with the blood as you grew colder, movements stilling. It's like you were surrounded in a cloud of cotton, everything muffled and blurry as your senses faded in and out.

Leon must think you dead, as his weight is removed, allowing your struggling lungs to greedily gulp in air. It did nothing to help, only making the burning in your chest worse.

Through hazed vision, you observe the world as it moved in slow motion. Shadows shift and flicker along the edges of your vision, before detaching to loom over you. There’s words being spoken, sounding all the same as they’re repeated again and again. It’s only when a hand ghost your wounds do you react.

A small whimper leaves your lips, begging whoever it is to leave you alone and let you die in peace. To die alone in the middle of an alley, stabbed and left to rot. As is the fate of so many who live here.

Then, in the middle of your suffering, comes warmth.

It starts small, a pebble of comfort really, growing more every second. You briefly wonder if this is what death feels like. If so, then maybe it's not so bad. It reminds you of the warm drinks your mother would bring home after work, warming you from the inside out like liquid sunshine.

It dulled your senses bringing a blissful wave of numbness as hands continued to move across your body.

Then, nothing. ________________

It seemed as if you were bathed in darkness for eternity, endlessly floundering in its inky depth. Like someone's holding your head underwater, keeping you under the surface with ease as you claw back to the surface of consciousness, inch by inch until you can slowly start to feel your body once again.

You're confused and bleary as you wake, body feeling like lead as your greeted with the humming of engines and creaking of metal. As far as you could remember, you hadn’t fallen asleep near the landing base, and ships never landed this close to your crate.

Thinking hurt too much now to worry though, head pounding in protest. It’ll be a problem for you in the future you decide. Right now, you just wanted to sleep off the massive headache. Turning over, a jolt of pain rewards your efforts and your eyes shoot open.

The sight of metal greeted you, though not the type you were used to. This was less rusted, better welded than anything in the area you lived. The blanket currently clutched in your hands was softer than anything you owned as well, and you never had an actual pillow before.

Another shock of pain coursed through you, prompting you to lift your coverings. The sight of stark white bandages greeted you, peeking up from the holes in your shirt and around your bare leg. There was no fabric left on the injured appendage, looking to have been ripped off if the jagged edges were anything to go by. The sight was heartbreaking, being the only pair of pants you owned, now left in less than good condition.

The sight of the bandages does stir something in the back of your mind, fighting the fog in your mind and settling right on the tip of your tongue. Its hazy, a patchwork of events and words. If you could just-

Another jolt shoots through you, bringing back memories alongside the pain. The walk home, seeing the Mandalorian with Leon, trying to help and getting fucked in return. It all comes back in sharp flashes.

That’s right. You were injured. You should have died. Yet here you are, alive.

The question is; where is ‘here’?

You’re resting in a small enclosed space, the only exit being at your feet, which protrude almost comically from the edge. There’s a large number of blankets and a few stuffed animals lying around, working to soften the metal crypt.

There’s no sounds apart from what you heard earlier, though if you listen closely enough you can hear the occasional beeping of machinery and internal components. The silence is of little comfort only making you on edge. If there’s no sound, then someone is purposely trying not to be heard.

Getting out of the small space is more of a challenge than you would think. The wounds make it nearly impossible to move and you have to bite your tongue to keep from crying out as you shift, slowly pulling yourself to the edge and allowing your legs to hang over the side. You nearly collapse when you jump down the remaining three inches to the floor, forcing you to lean on the cold steel of the wall. Air comes in short gasps with your hand clenched over your mouth to muffle any sound. When the pain fades enough to move again you make your way further through the ship, inspecting everything with wide eyes as you go.

You’re definitely on a ship. If the rumbling of the engine earlier hadn’t been enough, the floor under your feet sways and dips every so often, forcing you to use the wall to keep from falling. There’s tools and other miscellaneous items scattered about. Crates with varying degrees of fullness and contents are pushed into corners away from an incredible large amount of storage spaces, and the air reeks of blaster residue, rust, and fuel. There’s something that looks suspiciously like a carbonite chamber on the far wall, making your nerves increase ten fold.

It all had an organized chaos to it, making it near impossible for anyone but the ship's owner to navigate the clusters of items.

As you inspect a panel on the wall more closely, hoping you might gather some information, a small clatter makes you jump. Spinning around, you come face to face with the little monster that got you into this situation.

The green creature coos, speaking a jumble of sounds like he expects you to understand. It steps forward, waddling over in small steps to your frozen form until he’s at your feet. He doesn’t even come up to your knee, though that doesn't make him any less hesitant to latch onto your leg, tugging at the fabric with a surprisingly strong grip.

For once you’re unsure what to do. While you liked children, your experience was limited to those on the streets, giving the occasional tip to avoid them from causing any trouble and attracting attention from the enforcers. They seemed to like you though, and sometimes you swore it was like you had a retractor beam calibrated specifically for them. You tried your best to get them in with one of the better groups around, but that was all you could do for them. You were far from the best example, and there was no way you could look after them yourself.

But wait, he had been traveling with the Mandalorian. So if he was on this ship with you now then that meant…

A thud, louder than all the others. It comes from above. Your eyes drift to the ladder, leading up to the only place on the ship you haven't searched yet.

The cockpit.

You push the kid aside gently before moving closer, ears straining for any more noises. At the bottom you struggle to lift your arm to the bottom rung. Any movement sends a fresh wave of pain from your side, and when you lift your leg to push yourself up it only worsens. You're forced to use the uninjured leg, going up with only one of each limb. It’s slow and painful, only made that much more difficult by the fact you had to remain silent.

It was a slow go, but eventually you made it to the top, head poking above the lip of the entrance to reveal a spacious cockpit. There were three seats arranged in an arrow, but only one was currently occupied with the man you were looking for. His shoulders jutting out from the sides, too wide for the seat to act as a proper back. Light from the passing stars bounced off his helmet almost blindingly in flashes. The rifle strapped to his back was gone, but that didn’t mean he was unarmed. There could be any number of blades and blasters hidden on his person. Though even without weapons he was dangerous.

Imminent death wasn’t what concerned you. After all, you assumed he was the ones who had patched you up and brought you aboard.

As you made your way closer to his turned back, your eyes roamed the area. Being around ships as much as you had, even if they were mainly imperial, there were a couple things you noticed.

Judging from the setup, it must be pre-empire, though it clearly had some modifications added to keep it on par with other ships. Reinforced walls in the upper parts, clearly welded by someone other than a professional, with a narrowed viewing port to give blaster less of a chance to blow out the glass. A sliding door with airlock components lies at the entrance. Not something you would find on a normal transport ship like this, which the large hull told you it was. Squares weren't the most dynamic shape for space travel after all.

Through the narrowed view you can see you’re in hyperspace and it takes you aback for a moment. You had never been beyond the atmosphere of Corellia, even when in the hold of transports. Countless nights you had spent gazing at the sky, trying to see past the clouds to the stars beyond, wishing you could be up there with them, exploring the galaxy and away from this hell hole. Now, it was like your dreams had come true in their own twisted way.

So distracted by the sight, you missed the stray plasma cutter lying on the ground. Your heel caught the edge, making you stumble as it skidded across the floor, the noise early defining after the previous silence. You paused, only a few feet from the Mandalorian now. There was a beat of silence, and you wondered if you had caught him sleeping. Somehow that was almost as terrifying as finding him awake. The fact that he found you so little of a threat that he could sleep without fear of you trying something.

Then, without turning, he spoke, voice sending every fiber of your being on high alert.

“I thought you would have slept longer.”

[novantinuum]

Fandom: Steven Universe

Pairing: Steven/Connie

Rating: Teen Audiences 

Words: 2.6K~

Summary: In which Connie’s subconscious, innocent touch helps Steven realize just how nice the sensation of gentle fingertips gliding across the surface of one’s gem can be. (Just a bunch of teen romance fluff, + first kiss)

This is set like... a few weeks before Steven leaves Beach City. I imagine he’s been recovering from what happened in I Am My Monster for at least 6 months by this point.

His days aren’t always great- there’s a lot of ups and downs- but thankfully, today is a markedly pleasant one.

_____

His house is still for once. Impossibly so. No Diamond business, no new arrivals to Earth, no disgruntled Gems kicking down his front door. No more battles, beyond his own internal ones. Admittedly, a part of him is happy for the peace and quiet. He’s appreciative of the way all his family and friends rallied around him in support months back after... erm- after his breakdown, but every guy needs some space eventually.

‘Some space’ never has to mean alone, of course.

Steven sneaks a doe-eyed glance at the girl flopped next to him on the living room couch, her mind lost in the pages of her own fantasy world. It’s a new series, something about a human accidentally falling into the world of the fae. (It’s only been like, half an hour, and she’s almost a hundred pages in already!) A pliable smile teases his lips as he watches her eyes flicker back and forth, digesting each passage with a voracious hunger. Sighing in content, he turns his attention back to his own book, externally making as if he’s busy exploring the world of fiction to hide the sappy fact that instead he’s been thinking about her all along. Honestly? He adores quiet days like these. Even if they’re not doing anything special, it’s just nice to get to spend time alone together. It’s a comfortable together.

Connie shifts, instinctively curling closer, her free arm slung against his side. With a soft hum of content he leans into her welcomed embrace, trying his best (and— caught in her innocently bewitching presence— failing abysmally) to focus on the wandering lines of text.

Everything is peaceful.

No hard knocks, no frenzied phone calls, no family disruptions. The domestic warp hasn’t even activated once this whole lazy afternoon. In recent days, he’s pretty sure that’s a record.

At long last, his house is still... and yet in a flash, his hormone riddled teenage mind— ever foolish— is everything but.

Because Connie’s touch is tickling him.

It’s subconscious, almost imperceptible at first. At some point her free hand has roved so that it’s no longer pressed against his side, but against his midriff— which is currently exposed, his shirt bunched up at the waist from all his slouching. Teasingly, her fingertips dance upon the facets of his gem with the pinpoint expertise of a prima ballerina, encoding an endless rhythm directly into the sum of his being, the feather-light contact sending vibrations almost too faint to notice coursing through his hard light veins. But not too faint for him. Not now, not while host to this kind of silence. Not when the girl draped on the couch next to him unknowingly commands every shard of his attention with the slightest twitch of her index finger.

It’s taking all his willpower not to squirm at this ticklish contact right now. It’s so... weird when other people touch his gem. It’s certainly not something he’s used to.

(Steven promptly buries the memory of the last time someone touched it, refusing to let old terrors tarnish an otherwise pleasurable encounter. He can feel the pink threatening to rise in his cheeks, that instinctual rush of panic he’s grown so numb to over the past months rearing its ugly head. It’s so, so hard to wrestle away from its thrall sometimes, but thankfully his therapist has been teaching him ways to mitigate these sorta reactions. His eyes clamp shut as he breathes deep through his nose and focuses on the tangible, on what he knows: the plump, lumpy cushions of the couch under him, the slight scent of garlic and cumin in the air from the lunch he cooked a few hours ago, the rhythmic crashing of waves outside the house. The warmth of his best friend by his side—)

Tap, taptaptap, tap, taptaptap...

His cheeks bloom a human red as her lulling rhythm continues.

Like he said, it’s obviously subconscious. It has to be, right? It would certainly make sense. From his observations, Connie’s always been a tactile thinker. It’s part of what made her such a quick study in sword fighting. Whenever her mind is alight, those beautiful neurons firing back and forth like a firework display, her body is in motion. Sometimes it’s her foot, tapping impatiently into the dirt as she parses through memory to find the precise words to say. Or it’s like how she memorizes facts for tests easier if she’s jogging, listening to audio recordings of the test materials she made herself. And then there’s times like now, when Connie is reading. When her fingers tap and glide with an almost impish touch across the diamond gemstone in his belly’s center as her eyes— by all appearances entirely disconnected from both her hand’s motion and his reaction— skim effortlessly across the unfolding tale on her page. Her hands... oh, those hands... calloused, warm, digits lithe and curious in their movement. They’re always shifting, always tapping, always twitching to some identifiable rhythm. Is this just another example of her sway towards more kinetic-based thinking? Or... is it something else? A silent yearning that extends its roots from the heart into object reality, innocently unaware of the power of its call?

Stars, Steven thinks, mustering with all his strength to ignore his burning face, so maybe I’ve been thinking a little too much about her lately...

Eventually, it all becomes a bit too overwhelming to handle. If this continues in silence any longer, well... well, heck. He doesn’t even want to imagine what embarrassing things could happen. Mustering up all his courage, he flips his book shut and drops it on the cushion beside him.

“Um, Connie? By the way? That’s kinda ticklish,” he squeaks out, voice high and reedy.

Upon his words, she notices where her fingers are subconsciously tapping and immediately pulls her hand away, her cheeks flushing dark. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she says, quickly tossing her book aside and shifting upright on the couch. “I didn’t mean to goose ya’! I wasn’t even thinking abo—“

“No, it’s okay!” he interjects with an open hand. “I’m fine, really, I am. I- it’s not like, uh- It isn’t like a bother, and- well, it just—“

Burning up with such a ferocity that he’s about one impulsive decision away from high tailing it out of this fraught social situation and dunking his glowing pink head right into the Atlantic, he forces himself to hush before he says something super stupid and humiliating in front of his best friend in the whole world that he’ll regret and replay in his dreams forever and ever for the rest of his days.

Okay, Steven, stop running your mouth like a lovesick fool for one second and think. How can you say this in a way that doesn’t sound entirely stupid and/or weird?

Watching him closely, curiosity written across every vibrant feature, Connie inclines her head ever so slight, a subtle, wordless gesture— one only a Jam Bud could understand— for him to keep going.

The phantom sensation of her fingers tapping against crystal rushes through his nerves like the physical analogue to a bad ear worm. He reaches up to itch at the side of his neck, unable to fully stifle his nervous laughter.

“Honestly, it uh- it actually felt pretty nice?”

“What, me touching your gem?”

“Yeah,” he manages to croak out, voice cracking like it hadn’t since he was freshly fifteen.

She isn’t able to fully stifle her giggle at this, pressing her hand tight to her mouth far too late.

His heart nearly plummets at the sound of her teasing laughter, the constant thrumming of his hard light veins steadily quickening as a flood of energy pulses just below the surface. He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, he knew it was far too much after every other recent misstep he’s made in their relationship! Why couldn’t he have just kept his trap shut?

“Aw, geeze,” he says, voice thick and his every muscle ready to bolt, “this is so embarrassing—“

“No, no! I shouldn’t have laughed, it’s okay!” she jumps in, pressing her hand to his shoulder to help ground him “It’s just bodies, Steven. It’s not weird. It’s just how skin-to-skin contact works. It’s supposed to feel good, because we’re meant to be social creatures, y’know?”

He hums softly in agreement, taking the offered moment to ease himself down from brink of panic. He focuses intently on the weight of her hand, resting feather-light against him. It’s a small gesture, but a powerful one. More than anything, more than words alone could say, it’s a promise. A reaffirmation, moment by moment. I’m here. We’re here. It’s a truth even the sobering reality of shared trauma can’t hope to erase: that even when the going’s tough, they have each other.

Connie brushes a stray stand of hair behind her ear then, shifting on the couch. Perhaps out of a sum of bashfulness, her eyes drift, not quite able to meet his.

“I- it’s silly, but I guess I never considered that you could even feel sensation through your gem,” she admits.

“Really? But you’ve had a gem before. Well, shared a gem,” he corrects himself, though in the end it’s all semantics.

“Well, sure, but when we’re Stevonnie, they don’t tend to think about stuff like that, because you’re used to it, and I’ve never thought about it. It’s simply... normal for them, I guess.”

“Hahah, yeah. It’s always been that way for me,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I never crawled like a normal kid, d’ya know? Dad says I always used to move around by scooting on my butt. When I tried crawling my gem would scrape against the floor, and apparently? I hated it.”

She laughs for real this time, (with him, not at him), her voice ringing true and beautiful and clear like a bell. His heart swells with joy.

And then...

Connie’s lithe fingers reach towards his midsection, hesitantly at first, before— in careful consideration of boundaries— pausing in their voyage entirely.

Her eyes lock with his, her shy expression wholly giving up the chase on what her request will be before she ever shifts her tongue to ask in words. “Is it okay if-?”

“Always,” he says, gently leading her hand under the hem of his shirt and towards the gemstone at his core.

He can’t help his sharp inhale when he feels her fingertips dance across his facets once more. Even when he knows what’s coming, knows to expect this contact, it’s funny. Not funny in a ‘haha’ way, funny in an ‘I’m not used to this’ way. After all, he’s never exactly made a habit of touching his own gem beyond periodic cleaning, and (almost) no one else has ever had a purpose to. It’s for this reason that a small traumatized segment of his mind still can’t help but spiral in panic about the mere concept of any external being brushing against this treasure, this tangible half of his very essence. Given the nightmares he’s been through, he’d have every right to deny her touch. But with Connie... beyond everything else, allowing her in this way is the greatest show of vulnerability he knows how to give.

It’s his proof to her that in this moment, he trusts her implicitly, without question.

Gracefully, she traces her finger around the edge of his gem, lines each individual facet in turn. It’s ticklish at first, much like before, but as she grows more confident in her gentle exploration he finds himself relaxing under her touch. He feels warm, a faint buzz of content flooding his system through his hard light veins. With her, he feels safe.

“It really is beautiful, you know that?” she says, a peaceful expression settling across her features. “Your gem.”

“Nah, you’re beautiful...” he murmurs bashfully, cheeks flushing.

“So are you,” she replies in swift measure, eyes soft with endless adoration.

His fluttering heart extends its gossamer wings and soars. If it weren’t for her nestled at his side, lithe fingers running across each facet in even measure, her tactile presence tethering him like an anchor to this present reality, he’s pretty sure he’d have floated halfway to the ceiling by now.

Daringly, his gaze locks with hers. He swears his heart’s beating its own drum solo within his chest, but this time it’s not because of fear, not at all.

It’s the feeling of freedom.

His fingers loop around a stray strand of hair that’s fallen in front of her eyes. That seems to happen a lot, he’s noticed. As delicate as he can manage, he hooks it back over her ear.

“Can I...?” he whispers, his warm breath brushing against her lips.

She replies in wordless affirmation, leaning forward to close the narrow gap between them. Hooded eyes drift shut. Her hand still rests on his gem as they finally move to cross that final barrier, that fuzzy, oft indistinguishable line drawn between childhood sweethearts and could-be couple, and kiss.

Well, attempt to, anyways.

To be fair, despite his schmaltzy roots, Steven only has movies and books to pull from as an example.

Their noses bump against each other’s at first. Both giggling, they tilt their heads to compensate and then mash their lips together, reveling in every ridiculous moment of their joint inexperience. It’s definitely sloppy, and he doesn’t have a clue where he’s supposed to put his hands or how long is too long, or how he’s supposed to move his mouth against hers, or— stars, did he even remember to brush his teeth this morning?? He sure hopes so— but because it’s with Connie all of that doesn’t matter. It’s perfect in every way.

“OoooOOOoo, looks like loverboy’s finally gettin’ some!”

He and Connie startle at the interruption, pulling apart from each other with equally flushed faces to match eyes with their surprise visitor.

It’s Amethyst, leaning against the kitchen table with a downright roguish smirk, probably thinking she’s the funniest Gem that’s ever emerged. Of course, who else would it be? (Though, which entrance did she come in from? When did she sneak past them? Were they really so involved with each other that they just... failed to notice??)

“Crude,” he says, brows creased with faint annoyance.

In return, she cups her cheeks and serves him the most ridiculous, schmaltzy expression she can muster. “Sap!”

Connie stifles a laugh at her exaggerated antics, but on his side he can’t help but be salty that her interruption yanked the two of them away from the blissful throes of blossoming teenage romance.

“Oh, get outta here, you,” he chimes back, and playfully tosses one of the couch’s pillow straight towards her face. “Shoo!”

The quartz Gem catches it out of midair and grins, no stranger to tests of reflex these days. Adopting a fake posh voice, she fires back her retort. “Your wish is my command, Sir Sappington...”

Tucking the pillow under her arm, she turns on her heels and skips up and over the warp pad’s platform, stalking towards her room with a victorious air. She doesn’t even try to mask her lovingly teasing snickers as the door splits in two at her command and she crosses the barrier into the temple’s dimension warping interior. The last they hear from her before the passageway shuts is an overly triumphant ‘whoop.’ Steven can’t help but raise a scandalized brow at this. What, were the Gems hosting a betting pool about him and Connie, or something?

But thankfully, in time, the beach house grows peaceful again. They’re alone together, and together they’re content.

“Geeze, sorry about that,” he says bashfully, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You know how Amethyst is, heh heh.”

Connie smirks with loving, mischievous intent, comfortably cuddling up against his shoulder. “She’s kinda right, though...”

“About?”

“You can be pretty sappy sometimes,” she says fondly, and tilts her head so she can smooch his cheek. “Just one of the many reasons I love you.”

____

Notes:

So, given that I’ve also written a fic wherein Steven wakes up feeling a hand against his gem and has a panic attack, a word of explanation with my headcanons-

Ultimately, I imagine there’s a very stark difference between a trusted individual like Connie touching his gem when he’s fully alert and it’s just them, alone, safe... and him waking up and being groggy enough to not immediately realize who it is next to him.

In the end though, I just hope Steven would be able to reclaim a once-terrifying experience (someone else touching his gem) as something that is also able to be loving and comforting when it’s done with consent.

[shintorikhazumi]

“Yet” (14): Homecoming

A/N: Sorry this one is kind of long, but I really wanted to end by the second week, so I tried to just... end it with a full-ish chapter.

Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

She looked... foreign. But at the same time terribly familiar. She knew her, and yet she didn’t as she’d never even met her.

Russet strands covered in dust, dried, and with some odd, greenish glow to them (she was sure an explanation would be given in due time); a sweet burgundy that matched her own- it was like looking at her own reflection in the mirror... just that... this reflection was a horrific mess of a copy of her own face- a few years older, and deformed with an ugliness that had its own story to tell- this was what she came face to face with, on a cold sixty-sixth day of her eighteenth year of life.

She almost couldn’t bear to look at that sorry countenance.

She would have asked her mum-voice clear and to be heard by all- who this frightening stranger was. She would have.

And yet... she didn’t have the heart to inflict that kind of piercing pain on the older woman staring right back at her; shock, awe, wonder, hesitation, fear, guilt, longing. She could see them all- the various splashes of emotional color on that otherwise paling face.

A face that angered her. A face her mind resented.

Yet...

//-//-//-//-//

It was awkward. Excruciating.

Akko stood in front of a girl- no. That wasn’t quite right; not anymore.

Dull reds scanned the figure fixed on a spot just below the front steps to the mansion, face contorted with feelings she must have wanted to mask behind nonchalance and trained grace; but failing miserably to hide contempt, or disgust, or whatever it was that Akko assumed the sight of her made her feel.

Still, she was on a mission. A brand new one, assigned to her by none other than the keeper of her heart- her wife. A mission that she just could not fail. Or at least, couldn’t keep failing.

The task? Well, she was currently meeting this young lady. For the first time. She looked elegant, raised with as much love and care that a parent could muster on their own. She looked like she had a good head on her shoulders; responsible and intellectual. She had a finely groomed appearance; hair flowing down to mid-waist level, kept neat by a single violet headband; her clothes were modest and elegant, befitting of a bearer of the Cavendish name. She seemed well-mannered enough with how she held back any violent reaction towards someone Akko believed did not deserve to step foot in these premises. Her.

Despite the guilt gnawing into her entire being, Akko found it impossible not to look upon the fair maiden instead of hiding her own nightmare of an appearance. She should be looking down in shame, desperately figuring out how to start this long-due apology. However, all that left her mind as she was spellbound by the one person before her, the only one her eyes could-would see, this very moment.

This girl, this lady, this young woman...

This...

This was her daughter.

//-//-//-//-//

“...ko... Ak... Akko!”

It was tingly. It was warm. It surged through her body like magic. Magic that was not her own. This feeling so familiar- when had she experienced it before? Ah-

Diana.

“Akko? Can you hear me, love? Please. Please, respond. Just say my name again one more time. Or anything. Please. I beg of you. Please. Anything to know you are okay.” The desperation was palpable in that voice. “Professor Croix, how do I know this is working? Are you sure this is all I should be doing? What about healing? What if I-”

“No, Diana. Do not do more than I tell you to. Right now, Akko... Akko isn’t in a state that can be fixed by a normal session of healing. This is...” A much older sounding voice paused, hesitant. Akko could only wonder why. “The magic of Wagandea’s system embedded in her will keep her alive for a while, but we do need to figure out a way to extract it in the near future; before that very system withers away.”

“But-!”

‘What are they... talking about... I don’t understand.’

“Diana, please. We don’t have much time to leave this place before the concentration of magic becomes more than we can bear. Having used the rod, we are at risk to inadvertently become the rerouted storage for all this excess energy that the Tree cannot handle to contain anymore. We cannot become like what Akko has started to turn into.”

‘What does that mean? Why- what am I turning into? Diana? Diana, why are you crying?’

“How will we know if she’s okay to be transported then?”

“We will just have to do so, blind.”

‘What...?’

“And if that hurts her?!”

“Diana, you’ll just have to trust me when I say she’ll be better once we leave. Let’s go.”

“But Professor!”

‘Don’t cry... Diana. Please, don’t cry. I can’t bear to see you cry. I love you.’

Akko tried to feel her arms, tried to close her hand, or at least twitch a finger. She needed to let Diana know. She needed to call for her. She needed to respond. Diana. Diana. Diana-

“P...lease...” Her voice croaked, she sounded like she was dying. Might as well be, right now with how shitty she felt. Still. That seemed to be enough to grab her attention, Diana’s gorgeous blue eyes sparkling with more tears.

“Akko!” She felt herself embraced tight. Warm. At home.

“Dia...na... ple...s... don’... c-cry...”

“Shhh, shhh. It’s alright. You can stop talking now. Please. Stop talking. It’s okay now. You’re okay now. You’re fine now. You’re... You’re perfect. We can go home. We can go home now, Akko.” Diana rambled through her tears, tender salt-kisses pressed everywhere on Akko’s numbed face. “We can go now, professors.”

Akko barely recognized the presence of her two closest mentors. Since when had they been here? No, nevermind that. She wasn’t done with what she was saying.

“Di...a... Dian... Diana... list...n...”

“Akko? Akko! What is it? What is it, Love? I’m here. I’m listening.”

It hurt, her throat. It felt weird. She cleared it. She needed Diana to understand her well, and exact.

“Diana...”

“Yes? Yes, Akko.”

“I love you.”

Oh no. No. This wasn’t what she had intended. She was trying to make Diana stop crying. Not sob all the more. Before she could voice any concern however, she was hoisted into strong arms, loaded on a broom. She saw Diana wipe those tears from her eyes, and as if reading Akko’s hazy mind, replied,

“Don’t worry. I’m simply overjoyed Akko. I love you as well. More than life itself. I love you.”

She must be looking like the picture of stupidity right now, but at least she still remembered how to smile. Diana appeared to have remembered too.

Speaking of remembering... wasn’t there something else? Something Akko needed to do? She wracked her muddled brain for- ah.

“...I ...w-want t’ see... her.” She slurred against Diana’s chest, eyes feeling heavier by the minute. “Diana... wan... see her... please.”

She only felt a nod on her head, and a wetness drop on her cheek. Diana knew what it was she was trying to convey. She felt their ride move faster. Faster and faster. Her wish was to be granted.

“I want to see Kotone.”

//-//-//-//-//

It was a weird thing to wake up three days into the travel home. The magical carriage they boarded steady rolling along the dirt road.

As soon as she’d opened her eyes, Diana was all over her, smacking her arm lightly, wailing into her shoulder.

Once she’d calmed down, Akko was able to take in many more things with a less-foggy mind. Her two teammates were seated at one end of the carriage, Lotte looking as though she’d replace Diana next with the breathtaking hugs. Sucy had never had as much emotion show on her face until this moment.

Then Croix stole her attention with a comment on how surprised she was at Akko’s state. She was asked questions. How did she feel? Was there still pain? Did she feel drained, or odd, or anything. And if Akko thought about it, she felt better than she had ever in so long. Why was that? Croix hadn’t answered her then, but she was promised an extensive conversation after more urgent matters were settled.

What could be more urgent than information about what exactly was going on right now?

When the carriage came to a stop, and Akko peeked out the glass window, she finally knew. Or she tried to know. Her mind was at a screeching halt once more at what she saw.

And so Diana laid it all out for her. Her mission.

//-//-//-//-//

“...”

“...”

“I-” “You-”

“Oh” “Go ahead-”

“Ah, no you go first.”

“Oh, no, I insist that you-”

“B-but I really think that you have something to-”

“I... maybe, but... I... who... um... introductions... my Mum told me introductions are important and... you go first.”

“I...” She could feel her hands trembling. Anticipation? Anxiety? She didn’t know. She was simply overwhelmed by this... this... this. How does one ‘break the ice’, again? Eyes darted back and forth, head whipping this way and that, looking for some kind of aide, a distraction, a bridge for communication. Something. Anything! ‘Please, Kami-sama. Send me something. Someone... anyone-’

The sound of a clanky bell, and a rolling cart.

There! That! That could work! Wait! Stop! She needed-

She spun quickly on her heel towards the main gate they’d just passed through, leaving everyone dumbfounded as she rounded the wall, disappearing from their view momentarily. It made quite a few of them nervous, fearing she’d never return after they just got her back.

Those worries were laid to rest, as barely a minute later and their long-lost brunette marched up to them, some containers in hand. Diana realized what just occurred. It was fairly early in the morning, time for the farmers to pass...

“I-!” Akko yelled accidentally, nerves catching up to her, messing up her motions as she nearly punched a white-filled glass bottle into her very own child’s face. “I... I heard growing children need milk?!”

“...”

“...”

Diana was concerned. “Ak-”

But then a bundle of teary, incoherent words suddenly lunged into Akko’s arms, staining her torso with held back sorrow and need. Sure, she could not comprehend a word yet, but she completely understood everything Kotone wanted to convey.

And Akko missed her too. With all of her believing heart.

"You're such an idiot." Kotone sobbed, fists hitting her back a few times. "...I'm all grown up."

 It hurt. It hurt so much. She knew it, but hearing that truth killed her. To know she's missed that much of her daughter's life.

She felt the girl’s head press against her chest, arms around her waist pulling her ever closer, tighter. She could cry at the realization of what the girl was doing... She was listening to Akko’s heartbeat.

“So this is the sound of Mama’s heart...”

...

And Akko cried.

“Kotone. You are the sound of my heart.”

//-//-//-//-//

“ARE YOU SURE THIS IS SAFE, MAMA?!”

“PERFECTLY!”

“AKKO! STOP LYING! I REMEMBER YOU BREAKING YOUR ARM THE LAST TIME WE-”

“And off we go!”

“NOOOOOOO!”

“M-mum! Mum, I can’t- I can’t breathe!”

“Don’t be such a spoil sport, Diana; flying surfboard are always so cool!” Akko cheered, directing their vessel through the air, towards the beach.

“NOT WHEN THE THREE OF US CROWD YOUR TINY-” A pair of lips silenced her own, Akko’s grinning face coming into focus.

“Relax. Don’t be so tense, dear. We’re finally having our long-awaited family bonding time!!! At the beach, no less! You work so hard, it was a struggle to organize this day off, y’know?” Akko pouted, but it immediately vanished at the sight of her daughter nodding enthusiastically in front of Diana. “See? Kotone agrees!” They shared a high-five that Diana could only sigh to.

“Yay!”

“Not ‘yay!’” Diana chided. Wait a second. “WHO’S DRIVING?!”

“Calm down, Diana! Akko laughed aloud, breeze running through her hair as she manned the wooden board with her body. “What could go wro-”

There was a tree.

“...”

“...”

“You were saying?” Akko only groaned in defeat, face up against the bark.

“Aw, man. Board broke, mama. How do we get to the beach now?” Kotone frowned. None of them seemed to have the common sense to just magic it back into perfection, at the moment. They’d probably realize sooner or later.

“Well, there’s no rush anyway. We can always walk!”

“But it’ll take so long! The time...”

Akko pet her daughter’s head affectionately, gathering their fallen things, as well as her fallen wife on the ground, muttering curses and possibly planning spells to teach Akko important lessons about safety later on. Well...

Turning to Kotone, instead, she smiled, addressing the girl’s concerns.

“Worry not, love. Time is nothing. We have so much day left, and it’s definitely not over yet!”

Just like their story, together now.

It wasn’t over yet.

It’s only just begun.

A/N: I’M SORRY, I JUST HAD TO DO THE MILK OKAY?! THE TAGS NEED TO BE PROPERLY USED.

Awkward ending. I have writer’s block. Sorry. This short fic ended with full-length chapters. I’m sorry. It was hard to just... end it. So... sorry.

Anyway, welp. That’s it for the main run of “Yet”. Thank you to everyone who stuck around with the daily updates. There will be a few chapters of afterstory to address the blank spaces between plot such as what exactly happened before they got Akko home; what happens to the world of magic now that wagandea, a system akin to bodily homeostasis is gone; what happens to Akko herself after turning into this half-human, half-tree spirit entity; the magic community and the way the Old Nine are seen. But for now, I’d like a break from this to return to my multichapters that I’ve left behind. This was just supposed to be my in-between writing whenever I got stuck with my diakko day piece, but look where it’s brought us all. Hahaha. Frustration and all that. I truly enjoyed this, and I hope you all did too!

I can also begin to reply to the amazing amount of comments you all left behind! I’m extremely honoured and happy to receive so many feedback!

Til next time!!

~Shintori Khazumi

[bettydice]

Cookies and Kisses [Drarry Christmas AU]

@codenamecynic and I were lamenting how all the Netflix Christmas Rom-Coms are terribly straight, so... this happened?

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

Fuck Potter and his devious refusal to use magic for those things, and only those things, that Draco would find sexually arousing. It was calculated, that much was certain. Who in their right mind would go and chop wood in the snow, muscles straining under their tight shirt, when they were able to take care of that with a wave of their wand? Why go through the trouble of baking cookies and get your hands so dirty that you had to lick dough off your fingers if not for the sole purpose of making it difficult for Draco to be in the same room without his pants becoming a little tight? Why not use bloody magic to put up fairy lights everywhere, so Draco didn’t have to suffer watching Potter’s ugly sweater rise up and reveal a patch of inviting skin?

Draco had put up with all of this and more for no good reason and he’d had enough. Enough of Potter inviting him over for breakfast, lunch and dinner every day just because the lonely cottage Draco had decided he wanted to escape to for a couple of weeks belonged to none other than fucking Harry Potter, who bloody lived next fucking door.  ‘Cozy, secluded country cottage, ideal to recharge yourself away from your busy life.’  False fucking advertising!

Enough of spending his evenings in Potter’s living room, on Potter’s couch, sharing wine and words and lingering looks.

Enough of having to return to his empty bed every night and furiously wank to thoughts of fucking Harry.

“You want to taste?”

The nerve of this man. The nerve! Standing there in his kitchen, in a reindeer apron, smiling and offering Draco a spoonful of his vanilla and cinnamon-scented cookie dough, flour on his cheek the cherry on top of this cursed image.

“No, I really don’t want to have a taste of what I am to understand is not the finished product.”

“But eating the dough is the best part of making cookies!”

“Then why not just make dough and leave the cookies.”

“The smell! It’ll smell so good, Draco, just wait!”

“There are spells for that. Potter, I’ve been watching you ‘bake’ for twenty minutes now and you’ve yet to convince me that this is a useful way to spend your time ampfhh -”

The rest of his justified rant was muffled by a  spoon full of cookie dough in his mouth! Harry had left him no choice but to eat this sticky stuff and it was… well, it wasn’t horrible. One might even say that it tasted like a gentle embrace in front of a fireplace, if one were inclined to do so. But one wasn’t. Draco simply swallowed while glaring at Harry, who was laughing so hard he had to hold on to the kitchen table for support. Absolute wanker that he was.

And of course,  of course , Harry put his hand on a batch of cookie dough shaped like various things that had no business sharing a baking tray - reindeers, candy canes and some kind of winged ghost ( angels,  whatever) - and again his fingers were covered with dough. Disgusting.

“Ah, bollocks,” was all Harry had to say, grinning sheepishly as he lifted his hand to his mouth and no, Draco was  not  going to sit and watch this, not again!

“I swear to bloody Merlin and Morgana, you’re the most insufferable-” Draco got up and grabbed Harry’s wrist before he could start fellating his fingers again. “You’re a bloody wizard, the most powerful of this generation according to every other article about you and yet all you do is  lick  and  chop  and  stretch  and my patience has run out, Potter, this has to stop and-”

Draco put Harry’s finger in his mouth and licked off the dough. And then froze.

“Oh.” Harry blinked, frozen as well.

His finger was still in Draco’s mouth and the dough tasted really good and he needed to come up with a reasonable explanation for his actions right this second. He pulled Harry’s finger from his mouth with all the grace he could muster and then glared, because it was the first facial expression that came to his mind.

“Uhm, I guess you really liked the dough after all?”

Harry’s laugh had a slight hysterical edge and he was staring at Draco in a way that was both terribly confused and weirdly hopeful.

“Yes, well, I suppose that’s the explanation we’re going with.”

“Is there, uh, is there another explanation?”

Harry tilted his head and then his eyes darted to his pointer finger, the fairy lights making it glitter, because it was  wet  , from Draco’s  spit,  because he had  sucked  on it.

“What other explanation for this could there possibly be, Potter?”

“You tell me!”

“I just told you!”

“No, that was  my  guess.”

“Well, that’s your explanation then!”

“What?”

“Must I repeat everything?”

Draco was beginning to sweat. Anxiety started bubbling up in him that Harry would know , would know that Draco spent a lot of their shared time having very impure thoughts and some that went even beyond the purely sexual, entering an emotional territory that was supposed to be off limits for Harry Potter. But Potter had never been held back by closed doors, private property or threats to his life, why should he start now?

The evidence was still there between them, glinting and wet and a part of him was telling him that the best way to distract Harry was to get on his knees and suck on another appendage. A compelling idea, and yet…

“Draco?”

Harry inched closer, which really didn’t help with the sweating situation. Or the anxiety.

And then Harry slowly moved his hand to the table, hovered over one of the cookie ghosts, made sure that Draco was watching - not like he could look away - slid his finger through the dough and then lifted his hand again until his finger was in front of Draco’s face. In front of his lips.

Draco stared at Harry, lips moving quietly, helpless. Harry returned the stare, a hint of insecurity in his eyes but the rest of his face full of determination. A question. A dare.

Draco had never been good at ignoring Harry’s dares.

He grabbed Harry’s wrist again and then, without breaking eye contact, opened his mouth and  sucked  on Harry’s finger.

For a moment, it was as if time had stopped.

And then there was no time for sentimental musings about what kind of time existed at this moment, because suddenly Harry was kissing him. Intense, gentle-embrace-in-front-of-fire flavoured kisses that made it hard to breathe but that didn’t matter, because who needed air when there were kisses to be had.

He felt his back hit the wall; apparently they had moved. It was hard to tell with his eyes closed and all his senses focused on tasting Harry, his hands busy with trying to take off that stupid apron.

Harry did stop kissing him for a moment then, laughed and waved his hand and then they were both naked. Draco couldn’t believe it.

“You can do  wandless  magic and yet you don’t use it to chop your fucking wood?”

Even being able to catch a glimpse of Harry’s half-hard cock was not enough to dampen his incredulity.

“I find it calming and it’s good exercise!”

“Good ex- are you shitting me?”

“You seemed to like it, too.”

Harry’s smile turned very, very smug and then he pressed himself against Draco, probably to remind him that maybe there were more urgent matters at hand and Draco was indeed very eager to get to the part where their cocks would come into play and oh, Harry was kissing his neck, that was very nice indeed, but first…

“I knew it was deliberate! I knew it! You just wanted to seduce me! From the first day, you were trying to entice me with your bending over and stretching and putting things in your mouth!”

Harry was laughing against his shoulder, his breath hot on his skin and his fingers tightening on Draco’s arse (when had they gotten there?). Just another one of his sly seduction manoeuvres.

“Yes, yes, you caught me. I’ve wanted you from the first moment you stepped into my house with that hilarious glare on your face.” Harry’s lips were moving up his neck and then he was mouthing along his jaw and  oh  , there was  grinding and a finger that darted between his arse cheeks. “Simply had to seduce you. Had to have you.” Harry’s other hand closed around both their cocks and there was a possibility that Draco let out a  whine .

“Well, it seems you, ah, succeeded.”

“I have you?”

Harry licked Draco’s lower lip and then looked intently at him, waiting for his answer. Despite the fact that Harry’s hand was still working their cocks and his other hand was  exploring , there was a tenderness in his eyes that… It was hard to ignore. Impossible.

“You have me.”

It was a confession, but so was Harry’s smile.

[vadaschiquita]

Chiquita | Ch. 10

Chapter 9

Her heart hammered against her chest, her mouth dry against the frivolous kisses he pressed upon her mouth, and her nails sought painful purchase against his skin.  His breath felt balmy against her cheek and his ragged pants resonated loud in her ear.  His lips on her shoulder felt like hot oil splattering once reaching maximum heat and his teeth held no mercy as they sunk into her perspiring flesh.

She moaned his name, throwing her head back against his shoulder unabashedly.  Nevada had been insatiable, ogling Mariana’s body as it took shape over the weeks of her pregnancy.  It’d been the fourth time that day that they’d ended up, in one way or another, in bed or tangled around each other.  

He’d woken up to her belly pressed against his back, her shirt having ridden up the protruding swell, nestling just at the pit of her stomach.  Her body was warm, her hormones had him suffering with the constant fight of the apartment’s temperature, and he had scooted, seeking her body in return.  He’d hummed, feeling her stretch behind him, and when he turned, the sight that greeted him was too much to bear, so much so that he’d wasted no time in devouring her.

She; overcome with so much desire for him that whatever he’d been doing at the moment had been deemed irresistible, had initiated the second and third time.  

Nevada had been in a meeting with his men and others that Mariana didn’t bother to recognize, yet she saddled up on his lap, mumbled some suggestive words in his ear, and he’d wasted but a second in kicking every body out of his apartment for him to have his way with her.  He’d never been one to deny a woman’s advances, but when it came to Mariana, to resist her would be sinful, unforgivable, and downright without morality.  He hadn’t been able to turn her away that night at the club, and now that she was pregnant with his child, he couldn’t think of resisting her.

And, now, they’d been getting ready for bed.  

Nevada had… enforced for her to spend the weekends in his home, just until he could figure out a way to lure her into spending the rest of her pregnancy in his home, a place where he could care for her, monitor her, and be aware of her whereabouts every hour of the day.  Mariana had not fought him on it, on the contrary, she’d acquiesced rather quickly simply because she was still feeling guilty for keeping the pregnancy from him.

He’d seen her come out of his shower, rivulets of water coursing down her skin as she sought them out with her towel, making sure not one went unnoticed.  He’d sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, and an impish smirk on his lips.  He admired her figure, from the spillage of her breasts, to the curve of her ass, until she’d caught him staring, fixedly admiring the allure of her figure.  He’d only hummed and bitten his lip, waiting for her to approach him, and when she did, his arm had been quick to wrap around her stomach, being as careful as possible of her protruding belly.

There they were, her back against his front, the warmth and perspiration clinging to each of their bodies as they fought each other for their pleasure.  He sunk his teeth on her shoulder, nuzzling her hair away to settle on her neck, where her scent was most prominent.  Her fingers clutched his sturdy thigh muscles as her hips rocked back and forth in a continuous motion.  One of his hands massaged her sensitive nipple and he mimicked his movements against her clitoris with his other.

“Jesus, Vada,” she whispered, her head landing on his shoulder.

She turned her head, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his jaw, taking advantage of the moment to furiously bite at his jaw.  Nevada hissed.  “Coño, Chiquita,” he growled, lightly pinching her protruding bundle of nerves.

Mariana moaned, low and throaty, releasing a breathy chuckle that fanned across his cheek.  She whimpered, “Papi, please!”

She gasped, her hips and Nevada’s fingers working together to achieve that beloved goal: to come apart in his arms.

Mariana lifted her pelvis, tightening her inner walls just to give Nevada some extra relief.  He hissed, smirking at the sensation of her engorged walls wrapping around his dick, and when she sat back and rapidly lifted, he felt his resolve crumble just as his hips sought her warmth in order to keep the feeling going.  

She came with a low whisper, shuddering in his arms, and digging her nails into his flesh.  She continued the wave and dip she’d set, exhausting everything Nevada had to give until she felt the hand he had between her legs travel the expanse of her torso until it rested on her neck.  The pressure on her throat felt amazing paired with the pleasure of his lips.

He bit her lip, releasing it slowly just as he eased the power of his hand on her throat.  His dick twitched when she moaned his name, apparently not having gotten enough of her.

“Me matas, mami,” Nevada whispered against her face, leaning his forehead on hers.

“Que se enteren hasta en Santo Domingo,” she replied with a smile, nudging her nose against his.

He snickered, rolling his eyes just as he slowly leaned back from the edge of the bed.  Mariana mewled, feeling the loss of Nevada’s dick from between her folds.  Nevada sighed, pulling his body up the bed until he reached the pillows.  He settled against them, opening the covers for Mariana to nestle against his side.

Mariana rested her head on his shoulder, running her fingers through the unruly hairs on Nevada’s chest, humming as she felt his heavy hand on her stomach.  The rambunctious movement coming from within her had plastered on her lips the most satisfactory smile of them all.  A shiver ran down her spine when she felt the baby press their little feet against her just where Nevada had placed his hand.

Nevada had soothed the kicks by rubbing her stomach rhythmically, pressing his lips against her perspiring forehead.  “Gordita, you have to let Mami sleep.  You don’t know how cranky and… impossible she gets when you don’t let her sleep,” he finished with a chuckle.

Mariana hummed, “What makes you so sure it’s a girl?”

“Los Ramirez are all destined to have girls, Mari.  Esa es la manera que Dios nos castiga.”

“He may be punishing you, but what do I have to do with this punishment?” she smiled ruefully, placing her hand on his.  “So, what you’re basically saying is that si es un nene, ¿el castigo es para mí entonces?”

Nevada laughed, low and throaty, making Mariana’s insides melt.  

It was seldom the time where she had the opportunity of listening to his laugh.  These days, it seemed as if he had a permanent scowl etched on his face, one that had been placed on his face because of the job he’d chosen to do.  It would only change when he would muster a smirk when he’d be amused by something or was up to something sinister, but otherwise, Nevada had two moods and those were the ones he was known for.

Hearing him laugh, so brazenly and carefree had her thinking that maybe this baby, whatever its gender, would bring happiness to the Ramirez home.  He already had Sofía to bring upon him endless joy, but that was only when she was around.  This was to be his kid, someone who’d be around every day for the rest of his life.  Maybe this kid would be exactly what Nevada needed to finally and truly be happy.

“If it’s a boy, it’s punishment for the world… for being so cruel,” he sighed, closing his eyes.

“Papi,” she sighed, pushing herself up to sit against his headboard.  “If it’s a boy… let all the girls beware,” she finished, running a hand alongside his jaw.

He looked up at her, green eyes shining in the creeping moonlight.  “He should be the one to beware,” he smiled, tilting his chin for a better look at Mariana’s glowing face.  “One day, this Chiquita will come, causing him grief, giving him headaches, and no matter what, she’ll always find a way to aggravate him.”

She snickered, “Speaking from experience?”

“Unfortunately.”

She shook her head, biting her lip furtively.  “Have you thought about names?” she pressed her chin to her chest, cradling her active stomach.  “Two more weeks until we find out whether you’re right or wrong.”

Nevada closed his eyes, raising his brows as he spoke, “When have I ever been wrong?”

“There was that time—”

“Nadie te preguntó,” he immediately interrupted, opening his eyes.  “And, which ones do you want to discuss first, girls or boys?”

Mariana smirked, tilting her head to look into his eyes.  “Girls, since you’re so set on them being a her,” she giggled, feeling the kick of her baby’s foot above her belly button.

“See?  She agrees,” Nevada mocked, pressing his hand on Mariana’s stomach.  “How about, Mariana?”

“No, she will be her own person and though highly influenced by me, she won’t make the same mistakes I’ve made.”

He chuckled, “Fine, how about Marina?”

Nevada rubbed her swell as her hands fell to her sides.  There was something about Nevada’s hands on her that would instantly bring calm to both her and her child.  She hummed before answering: “I like Marina, but that’s still too close to Mariana.”

“¡Qué mucho jodes, Chiquita!” he grumbled with a shake of his head.

They were silent; the only audible things around them were the whir of the air conditioning, Mariana’s hums and comfortable sighs, and the sound of Nevada’s lips pressing against Mariana’s exposed skin.  He’d shifted, placing his head against her chest for her to run her fingers through his hair just as he cuddled her enlarged belly.

His overprotectiveness of her had automatically extended to his child and she’d loved nothing more than the sight of it unfolding in front of her.  It was moments like these that she wished Nevada wasn’t Nevada Ramirez, King of the Heights, but Nevada Ramirez, humble owner of a bodega down the street.  She loved Nevada, and that meant loving every single part of him.  The good, the bad, and most definitely, the ugly, but that did not mean that she longed for  a different outcome for him.

She knew that declaring her love for him would only bring strife in the fucked up relationship they led.  They were both kidding each other; her by postponing her feelings towards him and him by ignoring them altogether.  No matter how hard they each fought, those were feelings that neither could ignore and when Nevada lain in her arms like this, lowly mumbling nothings to their child, and continuously pressing his lips to her skin, it was when she wanted the most to let him know just how much she truly loved him.

Nevada, a creature of habit had it set on his sights that no matter what, this baby would be by his side from the day they were born until the day that he died.  He would let it known that this would be the heir to the Ramirez fortune.  He knew that sooner, rather than later, he’d be gone… for good, and leaving dirty money for his sister and Sofía wouldn’t do.  He needed clean, unsoiled money and revenue, something not tied to his sordid name.

The laundromat on Bennett Avenue, the multiple residential buildings, the club, the restaurant on W 177th St, the one on W 189th St, and the one on Broadway that was his proud and joy were all a cover-up, all a plot to be used as a façade for his dirty money.  He wouldn’t dare leave that to Nina and Sofía, so he’d been working with one of the investors from the party to transition the restaurant on Broadway and open up a bar as clean forms of income.  And, the change couldn’t have come in a better moment than this one.

Nevada hummed, “Mía, what about Mía?”

“Mía,” she parroted, smiling as she raked her fingernails on his scalp.  “I like that, Vada.  Mía… what about a middle name?”

“What’s yours?”

“Isabel.”

“Then, Isabel it is.  Mía Isabel Ramirez,” he sighed loudly, “I’m in trouble.”

Mariana couldn’t stop her laughter from bubbling up and out of her.  “You wanted this,” she breathed out once she was able to gather her breath.  “And, what about for boys?  And, don’t you dare say Nevada.”

“Nevada,” he huffed his laughter.  Mariana rolled her eyes, closing her fingers on his hair and giving it a hearty tug.  He hissed, his head following Mariana’s hand.  “¡Chica, ya!” he said between teeth when Mariana released his hair at the feel of his fingers pinching the skin over her ribs.

“Vada!” she moaned, arching her back into the air.  “Fuck, that’s going to bruise, you ass!”

Nevada hummed, settling once more on her belly.  He kissed the stretched skin, “Tu Mami me va a sacar canas verdes, gordita.”

She sighed, “I thought we were on boy’s names.  Shouldn’t you be calling them ‘him’?”  Nevada shook his head and Mariana sighed in exasperation, scratching at his scalp before continuing her motions through his hair.  “I was thinking Fallon…”

Nevada rolled his eyes and carefully turned to face her.  She had the most saccharine smile on her face and he could see the unending mirth hiding behind her brown eyes.  “Who are you, Lou Jacobs?” she shrugged, winking at him. “No.  Just like you don’t want my name for our papito, then I don’t want anything alluding to mines for him either.”

“Ay, you’re no fun.”

“You weren’t singing that tune twenty minutes ago,” he smirked and she smacked her teeth, shaking her head at his sudden overweening attitude.  “I’d like something traditional, but still strong for him.”

Mariana smiled, “Traditional—what about, Gabriel?”

“Traditional, Mariana, not boring,” he narrowed his eyes at her.

She turned up her chin, “Silas?”

He hummed.  “I like Silas, but no,” he shook his head, searching for her hand on the mattress.  They twined their fingers together, hers filling the open spots of his until he spoke once more, a gentle smile coating his lips, “Ian—Ian Alexander.”

Mariana tightened the hold on his hand, running her thumb over the back of his.  “Ian Alexander,” she sighed, “I love it, Vada.”

“So, where were you this weekend?” Jess asked as they both worked through grading some tests absentmindedly.  “I went by the apartment to see if you wanted to go for a walk, but you weren’t there.”

Mariana yawned, sighing once it ceased.  “I was at Nevada’s,” Jess made a sound, raising her brows in amusement.  “I know—after the doctor’s appointment—I’ve been feeling like shit, so if he wants to have me every weekend over then so be it.”

“That’s a slippery slope, Mari.”

Mariana pondered Jessica’s comment.  She tucked the red pen in her hand, crossing her arms atop her desk.  “What do you mean?” she said with a shake of her head.

Jess looked up, feeling Mariana’s eyes on her.  She sighed, mimicking Mariana’s posture, “I mean that now you’re spending weekends with him, next it’ll be middle of the week stays, and before you know it, you’re moved in.”

Mariana furrowed her brow, leaning back on her chair as Jess continued marking in bright red ink the paper in front of her.  Would that actually be so bad, to move in with Nevada? she thought.  It’s not as if they didn’t spend most of their time together anyways.  There were days where Nevada would show up unannounced and uninvited to her small apartment, wanting to spend time with his Gordita, as he’d deemed the baby for now.

They didn’t see each other every day, but the moments they did get to spend together, the moments behind closed doors that only they got to witness, were the ones that solidified Mariana’s feelings for Nevada.

“And, I’m not saying there’s something wrong with it,” she renewed.  “If you like it, I love it, I’m just saying,” she sighed, looking up at her friend, “make sure it’s what you want.”

Mariana nodded, leaning forward to continue grading her class’ tests.  

Jess, after the altercation, had been more than accommodating.  She’d been the one to constantly poke and prod her—and police—with her decision of keeping the entire thing from Nevada.  Of course, at first, she’d not been the biggest fan of Mariana’s decision, but even she had fallen victim of Nevada’s witty charm.  Jessica just wanted Mariana to remember that just because she was feeling guilty behind the entire situation did not exactly mean that she had to lose her autonomy behind it all.

Mariana bit her lip, her mind drifting off into thought.  Did she want to share a space with Nevada every day of every month or was she just thinking she wanted so because of her hormonal state?  

Being… imprisoned in her home during her relationship with Ricky had not exactly proven to be great for her mental health and subsequently, their relationship. Though, whatever she had with Nevada was currently working perfectly for them, was she just jumping to conclusions that Nevada was just a step closer to asking her to move in or was he doing this to just keep an extra eye on her.

Nevada, though overbearing and overprotective, had never been controlling.  He’d tried, and failed… miserably.  She’d always stood her ground and he understood that whatever he tried to impose on her would need to be done in a matter where she still had some sovereignty over the decision he was trying to impart on her.

A strong hand on Mariana did not work.  She only did his bidding if and when she wanted to, and always because in the end, there was something beneficial within the situation.  She’d agreed on staying the weekends with Nevada because she could haul Miguel and the boys to the grocery store and have them carry it up to her apartment.  She’d agreed to Nevada’s late night visits during the week because the insomnia was kicking in and the only way she could calm herself down was by having Nevada cradle her stomach as she fell asleep.  And, she would never admit to it, but she missed him, and having him there with her, meant togetherness, and a chance for intimacy.

“We decided on names,” she said with a smile, looking up to catch Jess’ expression.

“Well, don’t hold out on me!”

Mariana giggled, “Mía Isabel for an obvious girl and Ian Alexander for a boy.”

“Oh, Mari,” Jess exclaimed breathily, bringing her hands to her chest.

“Nevada picked them… both.”

“Both?” she sounded surprised as Mariana nodded.  “But, she’ll have your middle name.”

Mariana shrugged.  “He wanted Marina for a girl, but that’s too close to my name.  She’ll be her own person…” she smiled, rubbing her swell contently.

Jessica smiled, giving a subtle shake to her head.  Their small moment was broken by the sound of Jessica’s phone ringing in the distance.  Mariana glanced at her wristwatch, noting the time at hand.  She would always spend at least an hour after school to ensure she was caught up in her work.

Jess bid her farewell as plans with a special someone were bound to come to fruition.  She finished promptly, only stopping to gather the remainder of the papers and stuffing them into her work attaché.  She detoured to the restroom to empty her filled bladder before returning to her classroom to gather her belongings.

With a pep in her step, most likely looking forward to going home, cooking herself a nice, hearty meal to then shower and prop her feet up, she exited the building, but not before running into other teachers preparing work for the remainder of the week.  She always made a point to walk past the Principal’s office to wave goodbye to the secretary.

She took the steps carefully, reaching the sidewalk in a matter of seconds.  She bit her lip, rubbing on her small swell as she took the first step towards her apartment, when she lost her footing, dropping her bag as a result.  She shook her head, blaming her new center of gravity for what had happened.  She bent on one knee, quickly picking up the scattered belongings, and when she glanced down the sidewalk to make sure she wasn’t in anyone’s way, what she saw made her heart skip a beat.

She gasped, shuddering in the process.  The sudden rush of blood through her ears deafened the loud sounds of an afternoon in Washington Heights.  Her vision had tunneled, solely focusing on the silhouette at the end of the block.  She stood on shaky knees, shouldering her bag once more, unhurriedly thinking of something to do.  She couldn’t act on impulse; nothing ever good came with that.  She needed to be calculated, meticulous, and be sure that no mistake could be made when executing the plan she’d made.

She took a shuddering breath, closing her eyes, and attempting to ease the erratic and abnormal beat her heart had sprung.  She released a gust of air through pursed lips, licking them to ease the tingle on them, and repeating the motion two more times before she opened her eyes.

The figure hadn’t noticed her, or at least she thought they hadn’t.  It remained coolly propped against a car against the curb, a leg folded and pressed against the door of said car, holding their weight and from where she stood, she could see that unmistakable cloud of smoke looming over their head: Windsor Blues.

She made a fearsome sound as she lowered her head, clutching her thumb in her fist.  “Breathe,” she whispered to herself, digging her teeth into her bottom lip to distract her brain from the tears it so haphazardly had decided to descend upon her.

She tilted her head slightly, glancing back towards the school steps.  She shuffled her feet in nervousness, just like she used to do when she was a young girl in trouble with her mother for having said some offhanded comment, it made her smile to remember such a memory that up until seconds ago would’ve been replaced by the horrific memories of her standing like a frightened animal in the presence of its predator.  She ran her free hand through her hair, turning quickly towards the only safe haven she had at the moment.

Mariana hadn’t noticed, but her sudden movement had caught the eyes of the person waiting at the end of the block, and so searching for her they went.  

Her heart had picked up a steady trot and against her better judgment, she decided not to be seen or heard.  If she wanted to ensure her safety and avoid invasive questions, this was to be the best course of action.

“I’ll take the long way,” she mumbled, securing the bag straps on her shoulder with her opposite hand.

Taking the stairs immediately to her right and onto the second floor of the Academy, she walked then jogged, then trotted towards the upstairs southeast wing where another set of stairs were for the third floor mezzanine and interior ground floor patio.  Tucking her hair behind her ear as she practically ran down the steps, she took a sharp right turn into the quadrant surrounding the massive interior patio.  Down the steps, a jog across the patio, and up another set of steps placed her in front of Jess’ room.  She tried the door: locked.

Her mewl bubbled out, startling her out of her mind.  She gasped, turning around just to ensure that it in fact had been her and not somebody else.  She huffed, feeling the scratch of her dry throat and the perspiration breaking from her brow.  She gave her head a shake, making sure she was tethered to what was happening and the task at hand.  She pushed herself from the door to continue down the hall to her classroom.  She fumbled with the keys, searching blindly for them inside her purse, and with trembling hands, she was able to push the correct key in the knob and was safely tucked inside, resting against the double doors.

Her purse dropped from her shoulder, knocking her attaché out of her fingers, and with the clunking noise of her belongings dropping next to her came a scare and a small shriek, too.  She clasped her hands over her mouth in haste, her eyes wide with fear, and then she realized: she was safe.

The shaky breaths, the soft sniffles, and the constant coating of her lips with saliva to ease her dry mouth didn’t cease, but then she realized, she needed to leave.  She was safe inside her classroom, but she wasn’t safe in the school.

She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands in a frustrated matter, bending carefully to reach for her purse.  Inside she found her cellphone and quickly typed a text to the only person able to get her out of this mess.  She wouldn’t try Jess, there was nothing she could do, and if who she saw was who she knew it was, two women—no matter how strong—couldn’t take them.  She needed Nevada and his men.

Nevada’s response came in a sarcastic tone and in her frustration, she gave herself away.  Instead of waiting the three or four minutes it usually took Nevada to answer—if he answered at all—his reply came almost momentarily, and through his words Mariana could sense the budding precaution of what he’d said.

She sent two messages back, one after the other, and she waited for the vibration to coat her hand again, but Nevada was taking more than his usual four minutes.  She took her breaths in bullets, deep, audible sighs as her anxiety built around her.  She didn’t want to think that Nevada would choose now to not answer her.  No, no; she shook her head, closing her eyes.  He most likely could sense the anguish from her texts, he would answer.  He needed to answer…

His replies came almost eleven minutes after.

Text Message: [Vada] 16:26            One of the boys will be there in ten minutes

Text Message: [Vada] 16:26            And we will talk when I get home

She breathed a sigh of relief, nodding and licking her lips in tandem.  Her whole body was tingling, her ears were ringing, and she hadn’t stopped to assess that all of this most likely was affecting her baby.  She leaned back against the doors carefully, mindful of any noise, as she typed out her reply.

Text Message: [Mariana Santos] 16:28           Tell them to come find me in my classroom.

No reply came from Nevada next, but she knew that he wouldn’t let this go.  She couldn’t let this go.  All of her peace, rational thinking, and happiness evaporated quickly.  The laws of physics spared not a chance with her on that day and her hand was to be forced into laying it all bare.  

She’d bare her body and soul to Nevada Ramirez, but now, she was about to uncover her past, and she prayed that even after all that, Nevada would still want her… would still want his Chiquita.

tags: @imjustreallynosy​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @bananas-pajamas​ @katierpblogg​

[the-mad-starker]

Diamonds and Roses- 4 - Heaven on His Lips

AO3 Link

Tumblr Link: Chapter 1 & 2 | Chapter 3

Summary:  Prime Alpha Tony Stark is sent to prison. He can get out in a second, but instead, he decides to play nice and bide his time. Do things the legal way, for now anyway. While incarcerated, a sweet faced omega wants his help but at what cost?

Notes: ABO dynamics, Prime alpha Tony, Omega Peter, intersex omegas, prison AU, future smut including anal sex, vaginal sex, blow jobs, etcetcetc…

Chapter Notes: scent marking, intercrural sex, creampie

Another chapter from my roleplay with @still-lovelygarnet ☺️ also! Here we start with the yummy smut!

The chapter on AO3 includes art commissioned from @iammagicfishhook so it's up there if you wanna peek at it. Even without the story to back it up, the art is delicious 💗

💗 💗 💗 

Tony's smile was feral, tinged with an almost daunting kind of confidence.

Of course, with Peter Parker being so unpredictable (exciting, his mind whispered), Tony hadn't known if the omega would accept his proposition or leave him intrigued with rejection.

The prime had certainly played dirty, using the omega's body against him. At the same time… he had no doubt that Parker would have walked away if Tony's actions were truly repugnant to him. It just seemed to be the boy's nature.

For now, his enticing words and sweet touches paid off.

What to do…

Tony was given blanket permission to do as he pleased with the omega. As he considered, he took in his prize, noting the thick dark lashes that curled from the boy's eyes. Subtle hints of gold in his hair, stray wisps that trailed over soft skin.

The omega had asked him to be gentle.

Was he even capable of it?

They would both find out soon.

He had asked him to be gentle… And so, Tony tipped Peter's face towards his and ah– it shouldn't take much effort but the prime had to restrain himself from bruising the boy's mouth straight away. To take and consume.

Peter had asked him for a kiss. Tony had given him a dozen or more, the prime's lips teasing along his sensitive neck. But a true kiss… No, Tony hadn't yet had that pleasure.

Their lips touched, brushed softly, gently, as Tony took tiny, incremental steps to give Peter what he asked for.

He tasted heaven on his lips.

A heartbeat later and the alpha pulled away but he couldn't remain apart. Even a few seconds was too much.

More gentle kisses, more things that Tony hadn't cared to do in so long. Sex was easy and convenient. This thing with Parker… It was restraint and care, coaxing the boy's soft lips to part beneath his.

A hint of tongue, a soft sigh…

More sweetness as the boy melted in his arms. Their bodies pressed closer as though being chest to chest wasn't enough.

It was all sweetness, like a dream. It was foreign to the prime but it worked to entice omega. Tony couldn't deny his urges for long but by then, the boy was already clinging onto him, rising up on his tiptoes to do so.

The kisses grew harsh as Tony sought more.

The omega tried to follow his lead, to answer the kisses with the same fierceness but compared to Tony, he was messy and unrefined. He gripped the man’s shirt tightly and pressed himself up on his toes, his lips parted in muffled gasps and moans. 

It was perfect… Tony’s taste and smell… They played with Peter’s mind. His hot lips and tongue chased Peter’s breath away. 

The boy’s tongue brushed over Tony’s, their saliva mingling together, forming thin strings that connected their mouths. With a gasp, Peter fell back on his heels. 

His mind, or what was left of it, was set. 

His gaze got captured by Tony’s, those dark expressive eyes… Full of promises and secrets, too enticing, too desirable. There was never a chance to escape them… But the omega would gladly get lost in the man’s gaze. Peter’s lips glistened, his heaving chest pushing out shallow breaths. 

What he was about to do… he had never done before. He had never imagined he would do it… 

No words could come out but there was no need. His actions would speak for themselves. 

To the alpha's curiosity, the boy slipped out of his arms. All the warmth went with him but Peter didn't try to run. His scent was still honey sweet and the furtive glance he gave the prime was both shy and arousing.

Without even trying, Peter gracefully turned so that he could face the wall. Anxiety formed a lump in the omega's throat. He swallowed around it… He was going to give the alpha what he had asked for.

He was going to present.

Without wasting time, he gripped the band of his underwear and ever so slowly, pushed it down. 

The fabric slid down his perfectly round buttocks, exposing pale and smooth skin. Finally, the tight band rested around his thighs, making any movement of his legs there on out impeded. 

A drop of sweat trickled down his neck. 

This wasn't the proper way to present, no. Peter knew that. 

To present for one’s mate, one had to kneel on all fours, to be scented and tasted and bred… Chest low to the surface, face against a pillow… All his holes exposed and inspected… Offered up to the alpha who would then make use of them.

But Peter did not have the luxury of a bed around, and even if he had... Would he be able to muster the courage to bend himself over on all fours? He didn’t possess such nerve.

And yet, he still wanted to do it right for the alpha… So, he arched his back to create that deep curve that was considered part of the posture. Then the last part… He stuck his ass out, his forehead and hands pressing against the wall. With one hand reaching back, he spread himself open to the alpha's gaze. He showed Tony his little tight hole, that coveted place that was supposed to be for his mate alone. 

"I know it's not… not what you asked for. But… Is this okay…?” Peter let out softly. 

The embarrassment alone was enough to give the boy a heart attack, but he had gone so far already. If Tony wanted him on all fours then… yes, he was willing to go even further. 

“I can…” he rushed to say, but his voice trailed off, leaving his eagerness to obey unspoken.

The gesture was unexpected. Tony had a suspicion about what the omega would do, but the actual presentation…

And well, it was as the boy said. It wasn't what he asked for.

It was even better because his cruel words had been taken and returned as a gift. The demand to present had been crude and obscene but this omega… He had transmuted it from straw to gold. Turned something so ugly into… a work of art.

"No, sweetheart," Tony murmured, "that's perfect."

And it really was.

The alpha let his eyes trail down those slight shoulders, over the slender arch of the omega's back and down to the mouthwatering offering of his holes.

Tony wanted to touch and claim every part of the omega in front of him. For someone so innocent, it was indecent for Peter to have such assets. It had to be a gift from God or a trick from the devil. His ass was like a peach, so perfectly round and just pure temptation.

The alpha wanted to sink his teeth into the flesh there and mark it as his.

And then between those round cheeks, a tiny puckered hole that begged to be fucked open. Even further down, and Tony could see his soft, plump pussy. There was already slick wetting the folds and seeing this, he could no longer resist.

Almost reverently, the alpha put his hands on the boy's waist. His skin was so soft under his calloused fingers and rough hands that the alpha felt like he was defiling him simply with his touch.

He palmed the boy's ass, fulfilling his earlier urge to squeeze and gently grip it. His thumb brushed over the tiny hole of the omega's ass as he explored but he didn't linger.

Next, a lone finger teased the boy's pussy. He was right. Slick and wetness had started to drop out and Tony let it wet his fingers, using it to tease the omega, slipping his finger up and down the plump little lips.

Peter’s trembling thighs threatened to close but the omega made himself keep the pose until Tony either commanded him to or moved him out of it. The hot tingling sensation the man spread along his closed pussylips made him moan behind pressed teeth. 

The alpha was walking a thin line, his focus on exploring the omega. His cock was rock hard in his prison pants and it throbbed with the need to bury itself in the offered holes.

Tony had more restraint than that. He didn't forget that Peter was pure… He'd never be able to forget and yet, his instincts couldn't be ignored.

Peter's eyelids drooped half way, heavy, his back giving further into the inviting arch, answering to the touches. Answering to Tony. He needed the alpha's thick fingers to slip inside, to really feel him… 

The boy didn’t dare say it but his body language and scent gave it all away anyway. Arousal and heated breath made his chest race and with it, his shoulders and back. Sweat trickled down his untouched, porcelain neck. 

He was still holding himself open and exposed, showing the alpha both of Peter’s virgin treasures. Even as Tony explored and his fingers spasmed but he held on.

Tony did little more than tease the soft flesh there, running his finger up and down the sensitive flesh… Teasing… teasing… Fingers rubbing but never dipping in. With every second, it became too tempting to do more than tease here...

The alpha took a deep, heavy breath to center himself but it was futile. Just as his primal scent affected the omega, so too, was he affected in turn.

There was no way to restrain it. Those dark, hungry urges that wanted him to ravish and ruin. He couldn't fight it so… he gave in.

It was better to lose himself in the feral desires than to fight tooth and nail – and lose to that dark thing inside him.

The prime.

His fingers circled the boy's tiny wrist, fingers closing around it like a manacle. Gently, he led the boy's hand to the wall, pressed it there firmly. He didn't even need to ask for Peter to obey, the boy did it so instinctively.

He purred at the pliant way the omega presented to him and pressed himself against that trembling back.

His cock had filled out, a nice thick column that settled so nicely between the boy's round cheeks. Even that sensation, warm flesh cushioning his erection was phenomenal.

"Good boy," Tony murmured in Peter's ear. He ran his tongue over the edge, just briefly, before moving on.

He nosed along the shell and headed south towards where the boy's scent gland laid, vulnerable and waiting for him. Every exhale had hot breaths stirring the wisps of curls there.

Peter’s skin danced with goosebumps as he slipped his eyes shut. The wall was holding his quivering form in place, while Tony touched and tasted him. He would be good, so good for him… 

He could feel the alpha’s clothed cock pressing against him and it gave him a rough idea of Tony’s length. It was intimidating and… not only that, but the girth was thick enough to press Peter’s ass cheeks widely apart. The boy didn’t move, he would be good, but his eyebrows arched up, flustered by disbelief.

Tony’s hips rocked forward, pressing his cock against the boy's enticing ass.

His arms were like a living, breathing cage, holding the omega so close against his body.

His cock ached and pulsed, pressed hard against Peter's hips. The desire had built up inside him just from this omega's presence. It made his muscles tight with tension and urged his hips to rut forward and bury his erection into something hot and wet. Something that would grip him tight, something he could knot and fuck and breed–

The prime's instincts surged, a hungry thing with razor sharp teeth that cut apart even Tony's resolve.

His instincts demanded that he hold the boy down, keep him pinned in place. 

Mount him. 

Breed him. 

Knock him up and have him forever. 

But those things were to be enjoyed at a later time. Gentle… the omega had asked of him. Tony would give him the best he could. 

For now, restraining the boy wasn't necessary. The omega had already agreed to be his, but Tony liked it all the same. His prison pants were stained by the omega's slick, wetness making the fabric darken beneath his fingers.

Everyone would be able to smell the omega's scent on him, too. Good. It would only deepen the claim he had on the boy.

Even so, such thoughts didn't matter.

Tony wanted Peter to feel him.

Tony was a prime alpha and he would show the omega what that meant… Alphas like Tony were built for strength and to lead… The superior alphas that all others would bow their heads to.

They were built to breed and omegas were the only capable of taking them. Betas, with some training, could take any alpha's cock, but primes… No, it would tear them apart. The sheer girth and length that a prime would possess could only be taken by omegas.

From what Tony had seen of Peter, even as an omega, the boy would struggle to take it. He was so small and slight… A tiny thing that could easily hang off of Tony's cock and knot…

He would struggle, yes, but there would be pleasure for both of them in the end.

With a grunt, his hips jerked against the boy's ass, rubbing the entire clothed length between the boy's exposed flesh.

Feel me…

The friction was like electricity, the simple pleasure lighting up the alpha's nerves.

Rough fabric irritated Peter’s creamy skin, his tiny back hole twitching and tightening further to shield itself from alpha’s massive cock. It was so long… Involuntarily the omega gulped, surrendered in Tony’s hands as he was. 

What would the alpha do to him…? Anticipation made his little gasps turn into quiet moans. The purposeful stroke between his ass cheek excited him, slick trailing down his parted thighs, making it glisten in the dim light.   

Another thrust, another slow, hard drag of the alpha's clothed cock rubbing right there…

"This is what you wanted," Tony growled, "what you crave for."

The boy couldn’t resist a nod, “Y-yes…” he quietly stuttered. “I want… I want you…” 

I dreamt about you, about us… About this. His inner voice continued, but he would never say it. 

No more waiting for either of them.

Tony shoved his pants down, his flushed, hard cock springing up once it was freed. The omega's pussy was right in front of him, untouched and waiting for his cock.

With a growl, the alpha slotted his erection in place, making sure that the angle wouldn't allow him to penetrate the omega. Tony tugged the boy back towards him, sighing in pleasure when he felt those soft lips drag across his heated cock.

It wasn't as good as fucking him. Nothing would ever compare to the tight wet squeeze of an omega's pussy, but this was what Tony would take for now. 

The omega's soft inner thighs hugged his cock, giving Tony that delicious friction he craved. Still not as good but it was… enough.

Soft, satiny skin… The boy's most intimate place giving him pleasure just by rubbing his cock right against it. The omega was dripping wet for him and all that slick drenched his aching cock, making it easier for the alpha to move.

“Like this…” Tony purred into the boy's ear. He moaned as pleasure surged through him. The omega's scent and slick made the alpha feel hot and intoxicated.

He touched the omega's hard little cocklet, palming it gently to give Peter as much pleasure as he could.

“Like this…” He repeated as he started thrusting. “You'll keep this safe for me. This… This is mine. I'm not fucking you in this stuffy shit of a room, but you're mine.”

The man's tip emerged from between Peter’s shivering thighs. With the alpha's erection stroking against his body, Peter spurted out more drops of precum just from sheer excitement. 

They trickled down the alpha’s fingers that kept Peter's cocklet warm and snug. He was sure that he could come, untouched even. He already felt so close, a hair trigger ready to shoot off… feeling the alpha come, hearing him roar with completion would certainly do it. 

Up until now, Peter didn't know what Tony was planning to do with him. Even now, he couldn't guess the alpha’s next move, but he was certain that no harm would come his way. The boy had never felt this wanted and desired… It was enough to make him forget, for one night, for now.

He felt it in his bones. His purpose was to induce so much want and pleasure to this man that his own satisfaction hardly mattered anymore. It was enough to be wanted, to be seen as desirable by this alpha. His alpha.

All thoughts of being claimed by Tony were quickly chased away…  

New and unexpected sensations made even more slick drip out as the alpha’s throbbing cock and the perfectly round tip popped from between Peter's thighs… It made his mouth water just looking down at it. 

But he couldn't stare for long, for the scent of alpha arousal made his eyes roll to the back of his head. The strength of it was so overwhelming that his fingers curled into small fists against the wall. That was what a real man smelled like, the scent of Tony Stark, the arousal and sweat mixed with natural aggressiveness and dominance. 

The length slipped back and forth and with every single rub along Peter's slit, the boy let out his pretty voice. 

Moans and whimpers left his pink lips as he arched his back, his chest now flat against the wall. Tony could handle him better like this, with his fingers gripping him tightly. 

The slight change in Peter’s posture had the man's cock putting more pressure over his opening. It made Peter gasp and cry out soft, hot high pitched whimpers as he grew accustomed to the attention. What was worse was that he actually found he liked it, this alpha's unbearable teasing.

His slick little hole pulsed needily for just the barest of penetration… for just the curve of the swollen tip to push against it. 

Just enough so that not all of the alpha's cum would go to waste. Hesitantly, Peter moved his hips slightly to offer more friction. He didn't really believe that the alpha needed his contribution to find pleasure. Nevertheless, he tried, shyly and slowly, moving sensually in an effort to pleasure his alpha.

It was as if the boy was dancing, his hips rolled back and forth against Tony's movements. And it became quicker, hotter but still somehow gentle. The nape of his neck was hidden away now since Peter had let his head fall back onto Tony's shoulder, soft moans pushed out of him with every thrust. 

“Alphaa… ahh…” he called out, voice pitched high with need as his hand climbed up to reach behind him. 

The boy’s fingers blended with Tony’s thick hair. His control had long slipped away, but even then, Peter was still aware of the encouraging, shameless way with which he moved. Like that of a seducer, hips swaying with his ass rubbing against the alpha's cock just to entice him… It was so dirty and lewd… So very unlike the omega Peter was brought up to be.

He turned his face to glance at Tony, the boy's soft and youthful features barely visible in the dark room. His cheeks were aflame and his lips, so pink and kissable.

Tony was too handsome… Peter peeked at him from under his lashes, the mere sight of the man stole his breath.

Tony was intimidating… he was a prime, a man of so much power and yet… It only made Peter want more of him… 

All of him. 

“Yours…” he quietly breathed out. The word was nothing more than a whisper but the alpha heard it clearly.

“Yours–” This time the word was interrupted. His own moan cut him off, the tail end of the word pitched in a high note. Peter shied away in embarrassment. 

Inexperienced and untried, the boy's body still moved so beautifully against his alpha's. Inexperience had the omega mentally floundering but his instincts led him gracefully.

No, Tony didn't need help getting off. Everything about this omega was driving him crazy, driving him close to a frenzy, a rut unlike any other.

Ruts were uncontrolled, base desires overwhelming the mind and reasoning that separated alphas from animals. Tony could feel it rising inside him, the hunger and want, almost burning him from the inside out.

Tony barely held back. The boy's body gave him something to focus on, the wet, slick slide of the alpha's cock slipping through Peter's pussylips. He could focus on that… It'd stop him from angling his cock right in, popping the boy's cherry right then and there.

It was easy to fall into a haze, Tony's hand on the boy's hip was bruising. The hard little cock in his palm was leaking and so hot and dripping wetness… But Peter's voice kept him from falling completely into the haze.

Tony’s cock was sliding back and forth his clenching little hole, so close to it… The tantalizing feeling messed with the boy's head. He only had to roll his hips an inch more while the alpha pulled back and then… when he slid back between his quivering thighs… 

The prime grunted, his tip catching on Peter's needy, virgin hole. It wasn't his intention, he knew he hadn't planned it so he knew right away that his needy omega was the one that changed the angle. 

With a silent snarl, Tony held the boy tight against his body, stopping their movements. His cockhead rested righted there, barely surrounded by soft wet flesh of the boy's virgin hole.

He let go of the omega's cocklet, his slick wet hand cupping the boy's throat before he tipped Peter's face towards his.

He devoured the boy's soft lips, restrained desire unleashed in that one single moment. His hips nudged forward, groaning as he threatened to take the one thing he promised was safe for now.

“I'm going to come inside you,” Tony promised with a soft growl. “How does that make you feel, hmm? Haven't even been properly fucked yet and already gonna get my hot, thick load inside your pussy?”

His cock was so hard… Just rubbing up against the boy was enough to make Tony pop a knot if he kept it up.

“Touch me,” he ordered harshly, bringing the omega's small, petite hand between their legs. “Get me off… Make me come inside that virgin pussy of yours. Show me you want it.”

Lean fingers wrapped around Tony's tip and slid down slowly. There was so much slick dribbling along the length that the movement was unrestrained, smooth, even if Peter was shaking. 

The man's cock felt so hot, the skin sizzling under his small digits. And Peter felt it all… 

The glossy end of the man's tip that wasn't fully sunk between his folds. He felt the throbbing veins that went down the shaft and he felt the thick girth… His thighs tensed a bit defensively. Could it ever fit inside him?

But Peter had been kissed like there was no tomorrow and the only thing that remained in his mind was that he wanted more. So much more of Tony Stark… his strong, demanding hands, his scent that numbed the senses… leaving nothing behind other than burning desire.

“I feel…” he breathed out, trying to answer to Tony's question but failing to find the right words. 

He looked the alpha in the eyes as if the words he was searching for were hidden there. With his lips kissed red and parted, he watched the alpha's lustful expression before surrendering his neck again to him.

His fingers slid back up and down, much lower than before to reach the column's base and the heated flesh where the knot was starting to swell. His pussy clenched with the anticipation of the load, and Tony felt the wet lips around him– begging to receive all that the man was willing to give. 

“Alpha… I want to… keep it. To... ah, to… have all of your seed… stored inside me…” the boy moaned and touched his belly with his free hand. The alpha’s come was so desirable that Peter lost his mind.

But, no matter how desperately his body urged him to press down and take Tony deeper, he stayed still so obediently. Only his hand continued working up and down, quicker and harder than before to get what he desired. 

His own cocklet stood at attention while leaking. The man's palm had let go of it and so it bounced softly with every heartbeat, so close to release. He was so so close that he had to bite down on his lip, his movements stuttered to delay it. He would come before Tony, there was no doubt about it… 

Quickly, he took his small base in his hand to constrict his little cocklet and prevent the orgasm that was rising so forcefully. 

“I want…” Peter slurred, “To make alpha… feel good…” he said while his soft hand stroked Tony in earnest. “I want to be good… ah, uhh… I… I want to feel you…” his whispers blended with moans. 

Instinct had fully taken Peter over, no matter how they both had fought against it.

The omega wanted to be owned by him. More than anything… All else was just meaningless if he didn't belong to Tony. The boy's willing body had no greater desire than to please him… The alpha had already won Peter's tender heart and had received his submission and all that was just the beginning. 

Everything in Tony screamed at him to just take the omega. It was a dangerous game, teasing a prime alpha's instincts like this, but Tony stuck to his resolve.

He let the pleasure wash over him.

The omega's touch, inexperienced as he was, was more than enough to do it for Tony. Perhaps it was his scent or the way Peter was so soft and malleable, literally putty in Tony's hands. It made the alpha want to whisk him away, keep this bit of heaven for himself and damn everyone else.

“Gonna come…” Tony grunted into Peter's ear, hot breath tickling sensitive flesh. “Don't… move…”

A last warning.

The orgasm that had been building up was like a tight, hot coil in his belly. He could feel it growing tighter and tighter, ready to explode like a tidal wave.

His grip on the boy turned harsh, fingers digging into Peter's hip as Tony rutted against the omega's hand and pussy. With sloppy jerks of his hips, his sensitive cockhead slipped through wetness and wet fingers, the tip glancing against that tiny, tiny hole begging for him.

In a moment of vulnerability, Tony's eyes squeezed shut, muscles tensed when he finally gave in to that inevitable force.

His mouth opened wide, teeth and fangs pressing against the boy's mating gland. He only pressed down hard enough to bruise, leaving a perfect imprint of his teeth in deep red marks, but the skin remained unbroken.

Peter downright lost his mind. There was nothing left, only feverish, all-consuming pleasure. The teeth on his neck were radiating mind numbing sensations to every inch of his delicate figure and from the boy’s gasping mouth, silent moans escaped.

His chest felt so very tight, he couldn’t pull or let out a single breath.

“Hhh… Uhh…” he finally managed, his voice wet and almost inaudible as it escaped his parted lips that were coated with drool. 

From his fingertips down to his toes, to his cocklet that squirted out thin white ropes, every part of him was taken apart by the alpha’s orgasm and the restrained bite on his neck. 

Peter was claimed but unclaimed. Pure but debauched. Tony groaned through his mouthful as the heavy load of cum he was saving was pumped into the boy's virgin hole. His cum was pumped inside but without a knot and with gravity working against him, much of it spilled out. It dripped all over his twitching cock and stained the alpha's groin as well as Peter's thighs.

The alpha in him growled at the waste, but in terms of scent marking, it was effective indeed. The boy would reek of him for days.

Everyone would know who Peter belonged to and that… that was enough to satisfy the alpha's frustrations.

The boy had tears collecting in his eyes that slipped down his red cheeks due to such intensity. It was too good, as his small fingers that were still wrapped around Tony’s cock felt it pulse - the contractions so strong as spurts of hot cum were shot inside his willing hole. 

And the pulses didn’t stop, Tony kept on giving him more and more even as the seed came dripping down. 

The boy mewled as he watched his hand that was so very sticky with the man’s cum. He needed to taste it… Slowly, he brought his fingers up to scent and lick them. The thick texture and flavor made him shiver in delight.

With his other hand, he reached up to his neck and traced the fresh, burning bite mark. It didn’t hurt… not as he thought it would… But its presence affected him more than he could grasp.

It flooded his system with heat, with emotions that tangled his existence with Tony’s. Something was amiss, though, the omega had no previous experience to compare it and yet… somehow he knew that the bite had not been deep enough. 

He made a wobbly turn and stretched his arms out to loosely wrap them around Tony’s neck. Their bodies were drenched in all kinds of liquids and clung together in the sticky mess but Peter didn’t care at all. He just needed to feel the alpha close. To know that this was not over… 

He felt faint and swayed, holding onto the man, with his smaller shivering form leaning against him.

 Tony grunted at the sudden weight pressed against him, but he easily adapted. A strong forearm wrapped around the boy's trim waist, hauling him close against the alpha's chest.

He hissed at the feeling of his oversensitive half hard cock brushing against the boy’s stomach but ultimately ignored it. Still riding the high of an almost claim and his orgasm, Tony sought out the omega's tainted scent.

His omega. His and only his.

His alpha side was fiercely protective over all those he considered under his thumb, but this small, petite boy was something else. He could feel the burgeoning rage just waiting to rise at the thought of someone taking this one from him.

His lips brushed against the omega's ear, voice a low rasp but still just as commanding.

“You're mine now,” the prime growled into Peter's ear. “You let anyone touch you, I'll break their fingers. Anyone look at you, I'll gouge out their eyes. You don't want to know what'll happen if anyone else's cock comes anywhere near this pussy.”

It was the hormones. It had to be. The aggression wasn’t new, far from it, but Tony normally had better control over it.

And yet, he couldn’t help making those declarations. He knew somewhere deep in his dark, tainted soul that whatever hell this prison was, it was nothing compared to what he could turn it into if he was enraged.

And this boy… this boy had a big role to play. He was a weakness, an exposed nerve, a danger to the prime who normally kept cool. Tony knew it, but he wasn't going to let go.

“You're mine,” Tony hissed as though just that one last repetition would seal the bargain.

Tony’s assertive nature didn’t scare Peter, on the contrary… 

The statements made the boy purr, goosebumps spreading across his sweaty skin. The boy’s soft purring turned silent under the commanding growling and even if his breathing slowly returned to normal, his heart kept on gunning in his chest.

His pink lips parted for another lungful of the man’s scent. The need to stay close to the alpha was so strong that his body was glued to him. 

“Alpha…” he mewled, uncertain if his input was of any value for the man. 

“I’m yours, your omega…” he breathed out, feeling the fresh bite radiating with heat.

The boy’s tender nipples were still perked up with excitement, visible under the thin t-shirt. His cheeks were bright red and his smell… his smell was something else now that his neck was decorated with Tony’s - almost - claim.

Peter’s nose was buried in the man’s chest, sniffing and barely refraining from taking his tongue out to taste any exposed, sweaty part of his skin.

Reality had not caught up with him yet. What Tony and he had just done in this secluded small room... He wanted it to be his new reality, something permanent and just for him…

It helped that the alpha had yet to let him go. Those strong arms were wrapped around him, so strong and warm.

"I'll keep you safe," Tony swore, "you don't have to be afraid."

A faint purr reached Peter’s lips. He didn’t dare say it, but he… felt the same.

He returned the embrace and maybe to the prime, he was just a clingy, weak omega but even then… Peter felt the surge of emotion rise within him.

He made a promise and kept it buried within. 

Even if you don't need it... you don't want it... If I could protect you too, I would do... anything...

[kokobussy]

The New Guy Pt. 2 - Chen x Reader

summary: Even before Minseok came along, Jongdae’s always had a thing for you.

warnings: sub!chen, dom!reader, humiliation, pain kink, bdsm, some cock torture but not too hard so don’t let that scare you lol

word count: 6.9k

a/n: sorry it took a million years but here’s the sequel you guys wanted! I hope you like it! Link to Pt. 1 is here

Jongdae’s worked here for five years now. Unlike a lot of his peers, he didn’t have to intern in order to work for Tokki Corporation. Surprisingly enough his internet reputation got him the job more so than his official GPA. Back in his college days, Jongdae coded anything from website layouts to viruses, ranging in severity and design, just to keep his belly fed. Over time his popularity surpassed him within the coding community for doing just about anything for money. Sure it wasn’t always good, but he was struggling just like everyone else and had to find a way to make end’s meat. As graduation reared its ugly head, Jongdae realized that in the real world he wouldn’t be able to get by with popularity and occasional payments alone. Before he could even upload his application, he received an email from the Tokki Corporation asking for an interview. Their company had been under cyber attacks lately due to...a bunch of nonsense that he hadn’t really paid attention to honestly. From what he did gather it sounded like easy stuff, child’s play, and would probably only take a couple of hours to correct.

When Jongdae arrived at the corporation’s massive building, he had shakily reported that he was there for an interview. Being fresh out of college Jongdae only had ill-fitting slacks and a baggy button down from a local Good Will to wear. The secretary had eyed him incredulously, probably chalking him up to be another throw-away-hire, and made a quick phone call. His interview took place at the highest office in the building, overlooking what seemed like the entirety of Seoul judging by how high it was. A man sat behind a large glass desk, back facing the city as if it meant nothing, and looked over Jongdae’s printed out resume. Jongdae stood there like an idiot, looking around the office in awe and wondering if everyone’s office looked like this here. Despite the regality of said office, he couldn’t help but notice the small rabbits littered around. Rabbit plushies and figurines, ranging in size, littered around the book case and desk and even the guy’s writing utensils.The man, probably the interview, looked at him pointedly until Jongdae sat down in a smaller chair just in front of his desk, slightly looking up at the man. 

The interview process was incredibly quick. Some general questions were asked, questions that Jongdae “uhh”-ed and “uhm”-ed through as he shook like a leaf in his seat, but the interviewer seemed to disregard them entirely.  Finally the interviewer placed the resume down and truly looked at Jongdae for the first time since he came in and said,”I’m Junmyeon by the way and I’ve seen what you can do. We’ve been following you for a while now.” Now at that point Jongdae nearly shit himself. He’s not afraid to admit it. Why the fuck would this major company be watching him? Every conspiracy theory known to man flowed into his mind from the men in black to the Illuminati, but Junmyeon immediately debunked those. “I’m a fan of your work,” he said with a smile,”I’ve already made my decision. I’d like you to lead our IT team.” After that one interview, Jongdae had the job in the bag. So he came to this company straight out of college with an open mind and an eager heart, ready to take adulthood on by the horns. He made plenty of friends inside the company and outside, rented out a one bedroom, and even started his adult life.

Everything came a little too easily though. Jongdae did his job well and he was proud of that, but over time everything seemed to become dull. As he grew more experienced in his role, made friends at the company, and even seemingly conquered adult life and all its misfortunes, Jongdae grew bored. He got tired of the routine, tired of coming to the same sad basement every day, tired of the leaky coffee machine that - depending on its mood- would shock him, and especially tired of Oh Sehun calling the IT line to taunt him and immediately hang up before Jongdae could come up with a well thought out response. Sehun and Jongdae began officially working for the company around the same time, spending the first two weeks together during orientation in order to “bond” as a team despite them being in completely different departments. The two of them had been friends, genuinely, for a little while, but eventually they grew apart once they were sorted into their own departments. Jongdae remembers you very clearly from orientation, way too nice to be Sehun’s friend and laughing at all of Jongdae’s stupid jokes. He remembers you trying your hardest to keep the peace when things got too heated between him and Sehun. He remembers you, every bit of sweet and charming, looking at him like he was something special.

After orientation though, Jongdae hadn’t seen much of you. There was really no reason to. The two of you weren’t that close and he didn’t really have any reason to go to the upper levels of the building since he could just send any of his employees in his stead. You eventually slipped into the very corner of Jongdae’s mind, a hazy lustful memory that sometimes came up when he couldn’t sleep at night and needed to rub one out.

But, of course, one day it all changed.

One particular day after Jongdae got to work late, received a horrible sting from the terribly mean coffee machine, and spilled said coffee on his khakis, he got another stupid call from Sehun. It wasn’t so much as what Sehun said exactly, but more the fact that he almost never wants to deal with Sehun’s antics. These phone calls usually ranged from a dig at Jongdae’s fashion sense, even though Sehun hasn’t seen him in a while, to random silly names in a childish voice that grates his nerves and before Jongdae can think of a good response, Sehun hangs up accordingly. But Jongdae was already having a terrible day. So with all the anger and frustration he could muster, he headed upstairs to give the asshole a piece of his mind. When he finally got there 10 minutes later, after walking up and heaving over numerous flights of stairs due to maintenance on the main elevator (somehow the only elevator that went down to the basement), Jongdae rushed through the halls of Human Resources to figure out how exactly to handle this situation.

In his anger he didn’t think to simply call one of the managers or even shoot an email. Like an idiot, he rushed up here only to slowly realize that maybe this isn’t exactly the most professional approach. His furious stomps turn into timid steps as he grows more aware of his surroundings. Employees hustle their way back and forth from their desks, simply moving to the side to avoid Jongdae and his confusion to do their jobs. Jongdae begins feeling out of place as more and more people shoot glances his way, at his coffee stained khakis and flustered face. He’s completely out of his comfort zone, upstairs with the other departments that made this company, and it’s kind of getting to him.

The IT department is located in the very bowels of the building, far away from all the regular workers here, and the distinction is very noticeable. None of the other workers really even knew what the IT department did besides the basics like fixing computers or getting malware off of Wu Kris’ porn ridden desktop a little too often. The department itself was filled with nice enough people who didn’t really know how to socialize, much less fix their weird reputation of being “troll people”. Jongdae likes to think he’s different and loves proving these people wrong by showing how handsome, talented, and outgoing he is. While Jongdae had reasonable social skills, he did tend to get flustered easily in social situations. His social anxiety is something he constantly denies and struggles with, refusing to admit that he’s as awkward as his employees. Suddenly a familiar voice  pulls him out of his reverie, nearly making him jump out of his slightly damp skin.

“Hey! Do you need help with something?”

There are offices all around him, the amount of people flowing in and out and about them confusing him all the more, but a soft “Over here!” guides him to a large office with an open wooden door. He sees a small streetview of the city in a small window before his eyes land on you. Your suit, buttons undone a little too low to be professional, your golden name plate, bold and starking on your desk, and your smile, just as sweet as he remembered.

“Jongdae?”

Before his mind can catch up with him, Jongdae manages a smile and a friendly, “Jesus, Y/N, is that you? I haven’t seen you in forever!”

As Jongdae steps into the room, doing his best to come off as casual and not at all as nervous as he feels, he’s met with the very last person he wants to see. Sehun turns around in his chair, widening his eyes in surprise, as he says,“Kim? What are you doing up here?”

God. Jongdae can’t tell if he’s actually asking or just being an asshole, but whatever Sehun’s doing, Jongdae has entirely thought out an eloquent ‘fuck you’ that’ll send Sehun reeling. Somehow despite the eloquent and well thought out ‘fuck you’ he planned, Jongdae can feel his face flushing more and more the longer the two of you stare at him. There’s an awkward pause which Jongdae can feel in the very pit of his stomach. He doesn’t know what to say. He genuinely wasn’t expecting you to be one of the main managers now and he certainly wasn’t expecting Sehun, of all people, to be a part of the HR department.

With this sudden change, Jongdae feels his heart race, his skin prickle with nerves he didn’t realize were there. Your eyes, darker than he remembers, roll over his form and take him in for what he is. A nervous idiot who apparently doesn’t know how to talk to people. When your gaze moves to Sehun, you lightly smack his arm and nod at the door before saying,”I’ll see you later for lunch.”

Sehun’s eyes widen slightly, looking between you and Jongdae before landing on you once again, and he pouts,”Nooo! don’t make me leave. Look at his chinos. Let me have this.”

For some reason, despite his nerves, Jongdae feels the need to interject,“They’re khakis.”

“You would think that.”

You lightly smack Sehun again and nod at the door,”Goodbye, Sehunnie.” He leaves without further prodding, but not before snorting at Jongdae’s general direction and closing the door behind him. The two of you are left there, alone in your office, with the hum of afternoon traffic filtering in from outside.

“You can sit down, Jongdae.”

Your voice is more comforting than he remembers, something about it almost immediately calming the pressure building up in his body, the need to climb out of his own skin. Jongdae sinks into the very seat that Sehun previously occupied, resting against the arm chair and spreading his legs slightly. The attempt to look bigger than he really is isn’t lost on you, but you let him get comfortable without protest.

You’ve been working in HR for a few years now and have finally become one of the managers in your department. You worked very hard to get to where you are and you’re incredibly proud of yourself. A major part of your job is ensuring that everyone is comfortable in their workspace. The reason why you’re so good at your job is because of how observant you are as well as your ability to calm people down. There’s a heady lavender scent filling the walls of your office, a thick smell that lulls Jongdae’s senses. You have little knick knacks and pictures littered around the space to make your office appear more like a casual place than what it actually was. Here in the middle of everything is Jongdae, an old friend from orientation.

Jongdae sparks up small talk, trying desperately to get the attention off of him and onto something else, as he looks around the room. You entertain him, of course, and occasionally glance at the way he picks at an escaped thread on your arm chair. He’s more handsome than you remember, blonde tresses contrasting nicely with his skin.

When the two of you were new hires, you’d been attracted to Jongdae. You laughed at his jokes, went out of your way to hang out with him, and even met up with him a few times outside of work, but either he was incredibly oblivious or simply wasn’t interested. Eventually you gave up your pursuit and instead focused on work, burying yourself in your workload and sure enough coming out on top. The two of you move from small talk to actual topics of conversation to internet communities. Jongdae had entirely forgotten why he was so attracted to you aside from your figure. Your sense of humor is infectious and probably the weirdest he’s ever seen. The two of you are involved in a lot of the same online communities, Jongdae’s being a little more extreme and exclusive than yours.

So when the topic of memes came up, all of the awkwardness and tension completely dissolved. You both laughed, showing each other memes uglier and more obscure than the last, and soon time began to pass without the two of you really noticing. Soon there’s a knock on your door, signaling the actual work that needed to be done and the reason why the two of you were in the first place. As Jongdae stands up, apologizing profusely for distracting you and exchanging usernames so he could add you later on Reddit, you notice the stain on his khakis. “Oh right. what happened anyway?” you ask, eyes not really leaving his crotch.

He follows your gaze to his khakis - chinos - and huffs,”Fuck, I almost forgot. Long story short, the coffee pot downstairs fucking sucks and we need to buy another one.” As you nod along to his explanation, you stand from your desk and make your way towards another chair in the corner of your office. Now that Jongdae can see you, really see you, he almost pops a chub right there in his fucking khakis. Chinos. Whatever.  Your buttoned shirt neatly tucks into slacks that hug your frame nicely, shaping your figure into something thicker and sexier than Jongdae previously remembers. Your legs, God your legs, go on for miles and miles before they’re met with those tall black heels that bring the entire look together. Weak at the knees, Jongdae can’t help but stare at your curvaceous figure, a familiar feeling stirring in the very pit of his stomach.

You blatantly and unabashedly bend down to grab something out of your purse, pretending to dig around as the Tide To Go pen remains in your hand. After a tension fills the room, varying from the one earlier, you stand up fully and make your way over to Jongdae. You smirk as you catch the very last second of Jongdae’s gaze moving from your ass to your face before holding out the small pen. “Here,” you say as you stare down at the stain,”it’ll get just about anything off.” The two of you stare at each other for a time, not really saying a word as a mutual understanding begins to form. Jongdae takes the pen out of your hand, his own confidence beginning to fade once your professional front fades and turns into something he’s never seen before. Your eyes seem darker as they take him in now, consuming every inch of him as they roam. He loves it though, loves the attention he’s getting from you, loves that your eyes are on him and him only. There’s another insistent knock before the door opens altogether, a frustrated and huffy Sehun appearing in the doorway. “I swear to God, Y/N, if I don’t get noodles immediately I will die.”

After being reunited once again, there are a series of convenient run-ins that you knew for a fact were planned. How did you know? Because you’re the only planning said run-ins, having Sehun make a phone call to Jongdae every single time a computer so much as froze. On the days that Jongdae needed to be called, you made sure to wear your best outfits, to smile especially bright when he looked absolutely exasperated as Sehun pestered him as he worked on Baekhun’s computer, and to make sure that he had the perfect view of you walking away. When Jongdae made trips upstairs to fix computers that 9 times out of 10 weren’t actually broken, he’d see glimpses of your form walking amongst the halls or overhear your voice not too far away. No matter where he is, you’re somehow always close by.

Soon Sehun’s daily annoying calls turn into sort of productive ones. He somehow keeps having computer trouble and specifically asks for Jongdae himself each and every time. At the possibility of seeing you and the threat of a single and possibly fatal phone call to Junmyeon, who would do anything for that annoying twink, Jongdae has to come each and every time. Each and every time Jongdae goes, the “issues” that Sehun has are almost always an easy fix: turning the computer off and on again when it froze, stop downloading malware from weird websites so the computer won’t freeze, stop going on weird websites, stop playing dress up Barbie games on said weird websites, reducing the zoom from 150% to 75%, or simply plugging the desktop into the outlet. With each trip you and Jongdae got closer and closer. From saying a polite hello in the hallways as the two of you passed each other to awkward yet eager small talk to inside jokes and texting. Jongdae, ever determined, returned every hello, talked about the weather for as long as he could, and replied to each and every text in a timely manner. He’d do anything to make you smile, anything to see your ass in slacks and A-lines as you walk away with that sashay in your hips he loves so fucking much.

During this last trip where Sehun literally jammed a Wham! CD into the disk tray of his desktop, the fucker isn’t even there. When Jongdae arrives at his desk, exasperated and tired, he sees you, conveniently leaning against Sehun’s desk and scrolling through your phone. Or at least pretending to. Jongdae walks to the desk, trying and failing to come up with some sort of tsundere vibe that would impress you. All he manages is a squeaky and pathetic,”H-hey.” You already know he’s there, could already feel the tension in his shoulders from a mile away, but smile up at him in surprise anyway.

“Hey! So Sehun had to run out for a second-”

But at the mention of Sehun and his general headassery, the nervousness fades into annoyance.

“He went out for his ‘second’ lunch didn’t he?”

“-....okay, yeah. He should be back by now.”

“He won’t be back for the rest of the day.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s Sehun.”

After ripping the CD out of the desktop’s tray, Jongdae takes the time to look at you, really look at you, while you’re rambling about something that happened in the office today. He thinks about how months ago he had absolutely no idea who you really were. You were just an acquaintance, a faded memory for his occasional spank bank, but in the time he’s come to know you, he sees you’re much more than that. The two of you are friends, genuinely friends, and it’s something that Jongdae is incredibly grateful for. Of course he still finds you attractive, but as the two of you got closer, Jongdae realizes that he isn’t just interested in your cup size or the shape of your ass in those yoga pants you wear every single time he comes over for a Futurama marathon. While you go on and on about how Kris made a pass at you, the HR manager, Jongdae makes a reference to the sloth meme that’s been your joke for the past few days just to make you laugh. Of course you laugh, letting out the cutest and ugliest snort he’s ever heard, and that’s when he realizes it. He cares about you. Like, actually cares about you. Some time between hanging back at the office until either of you were done to get drinks after work and him teaching you how to play Magic the Gathering with old friends, he’d developed real actual feelings.

It’s a weird feeling, a weird thing to realize while you’re ugly laughing so loud that most of your office is looking at the two of you, but he kinda likes it. Kinda likes that he likes you. Maybe things weren’t so boring after all. That day Jongdae knew he had to ask you out, but just couldn’t figure out when. He had plenty of opportunities to, but he just couldn’t manage. Any time the two of you texted each other late at night or when you find solace in his coat while the two of you brave the harsh winter weather during your lunch break, or even during sorta cuddling but not really sessions while the two of you watched Firefly, Jongdae had the chance to ask you out but he was never brave enough to. He simply couldn’t gather the courage to do it.

It happens around Christmas Eve. The two of you were the only ones left in the building, save for some Janitorial staff who would also be gone soon, finishing up work that needed to be done before the New Year. With nowhere to go, the two of you decided to spend Christmas together with large cups of egg nog and a back and forth of tragic backstories that revealed the reason why you weren’t spending time with your families. When he walks into your office, Jongdae sees a mostly empty space that’s lost all remnants of you. All that’s left is the desk, a bookshelf, and one of your old chairs. All of the knick knacks and books are gone now, the fading scent of lavender being the only remaining remnant of your time there. You’re sitting in the middle of everything, working hard at your desk, as if none of your things are gone. Jongdae’s mind races to a variety of situations, most pertaining to you leaving and never coming back, so he asks,“Are you leaving?” Even though he doesn’t know the answer to this question, his heart aches something fierce. The idea of you leaving, even if he can just see you outside of work, is upsetting and so devastating that he might truly be upset by it.

You shake your head, finishing up what’s left of the possible report you’re typing, and say,”No. Just moving to the other side of the office. I’m gonna have a temporary cubicle with Sehun. Can you shut that door?” While he’s happy that you’re not leaving, his initial reaction to the possibility reveals feelings that are truly undeniable. Somewhere, in all of this, Jongdae suddenly finds a courage that hasn’t been there for most of the day. The two of you are alone in this god forsaken building at night with no Sehun or other colleagues to intervene. It’s here that Jongdae decides maybe, just maybe, this is the time to confess how he feels. To lay everything out on the table bare for you to see. As the soft click of the closing door echoes throughout the office and you get up briefly to grab your things, everything seems to finalize in that moment. He works up the courage to ask you out, thinking of all the ways you could easily reject him with a pitiful look in your eyes, but he wants to at least try. Just so he’s not left with a heartbreaking “what if” for the rest of his life. Jongdae’s eyes look away as he resigns himself to his fate and says,

”Honestly, Y/N, I’ve liked you for a while. Of course I appreciate our friendship and I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I was wondering if we could go out some time? We could get dinner or something - I mean I know we do that a lot, but I’ll take you somewhere nice and we can just-”

“Jongdae.”

“-dress up or something. But no pressure seriously! It’s fine I get if you’re not into me. Okay you’re not answering me or giving me any sort of tell so maybe I got the wrong idea. We can just forget all of this and move on. I just-”

“Jongdae.”

“-really hope we can still be friends. We can just go back to normal it’s no big deal. Fuck fuck I shouldn’t have said anything now it’s all awkward.”

“Jongdae!”

Jongdae looks up just in time to see your familiar black dress pool on the floor, your black heels kicking the offending fabric away. His eyes wander from your heels to the expanse of your legs, covered in black stockings, to the straps of your garter belt, barely holding onto the thickness of your thighs, to your lacy thong, up the expanse of your stomach, to your matching bra, and finally to your smirk. Your red lipstick, contrasting deliciously against the rest of your ensemble, makes Jongdae almost fucking lose it. Almost. He can’t pretend anymore or brush off your advances and claim it’s all in his head.

He’s here now with you, staring at the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and popping the biggest chub he’s ever had. You reach out for him, grabbing his limp hand and pulling him towards you, and place his hands on your hips. They tighten instantly, the lace bunching up slightly under his hands. Your smirk widens as you take in Jongdae’s shock, the absolute disbelief in his eyes, and you use that to push him down to the floor until he’s kneeling. Jongdae goes willingly, kneeling down immediately, and looks up at you with all the admiration in the world. You run your fingers through his hair and say,“Merry Christmas, Jongdae.”

Jongdae maintains eye contact with you as he lifts up your leg, leaning briefly to kiss your ankle and places the long limb over his shoulder. He stares at your lace covered center, nearly tasting the heat there, and whispers a soft and unbelievable,”Merry Christmas.”

Now, Jongdae hasn’t eaten pussy in a long time. Not since one of his ex girlfriends told him he was absolute shit at it. No matter how much he tried, she’d never fail to put him down and refused to tell him how to improve in any way. She was a bitch anyway, but it always left an impression on him. There’s something about your gaze though, as you look down at him, that makes him squirm with a feeling of complete and total helplessness. As your eyes watch him kiss at your thighs and generally put off what he could only assume is the main event, Jongdae feels a sense of guidance. A sort of safety net that ensures him that you’ll be there to put him back in line if he messes up. That you’ll tell him exactly what he needs to do and how he needs to do it. For some reason there’s a lot of comfort in that fact, comfort that he hasn’t felt in a long time.

There’s a sharp pain in his back that makes him wince. He arches away from it, only for the sharp to grow harsher as it twists. The firmness of it helps him realize that it’s the very edge of your heel digging into his back. “Don’t tease me,” you warn. It’s not a statement or a suggestion. It’s a command, a rule that leaves no space for breaking. So he leans in tentatively and gives little kitten licks, eyes closing as he focuses all his attention on you. You don’t moan or arch your back right away, but you do run your fingers through his blonde tresses again. He can feel your eyes on him, watching him as his licks get bolder and longer against your core. But Jongdae starts getting insecure, starts shrinking away and thinking that maybe he should just end this before it all goes to hell, but you pull him back by his hair to cup his cheek. “It’s okay, baby boy,” you smile, a complete 180 from before.

With renewed confidence, the IT manager gives it one more try. He gives you short kitten licks, nibbling and mouthing at your folds when he gets a little more comfortable. Jongdae’s licks make their way to your clit, honing in when you moan for the first time since you two started this whole thing. From what he can tell, your moans are precious and only delved out when he’s doing a good enough job to pleasure you. So he eagerly continues, trying all types of tricks with his tongue to pull more moans out of you. A handful of them work pretty well so Jongdae performs them again and again in different ways with the same level of incredible excitement. You end up riding his face anyway, grinding against his tongue with a fervor that he can barely keep up with. Your body begins shuddering from the sensations as you cum once and then twice on his tongue. Jongdae, always willing to prove himself, licks up your orgasm and lets out a moan of his own. He sucks at your clit now, letting it go to roll his tongue over the swollen nub, and starts palming himself in his slacks. He never thought he’d be doing this. Never thought he could be eating you out on your desk and getting off to it, getting off on all of it. Just when a hot pressure builds in his tummy, tight and sweet, the very tip of your heel digs into his back again. “Don’t you fucking cum, you pervert.”

The pain alone is enough to push Jongdae over the edge, but he somehow manages to get himself together. He lets go of the tent in his slacks and looks at you, waiting for your next move. You remove your leg from his shoulder with a little bit of help and lean against your desk again with your legs spread and Jongdae helplessly in between them. You cup his cheek briefly, letting a manicured finger brush his lower lip and ask, “Are you being a good boy, Jongdae?”

Now Jongdae’s never really been into bdsm or kink or anything weird like that. He’s never considered anything passed the occasional visit of pink fluffy handcuffs on especially exciting days or spanking. He hasn’t been that kind of guy or at least he never thought he would be. Until now. You towering over him and making him feel small and weak, pathetic even, is the most sexual excitement he’s had in a long time. So now as you hover a heel over the tent in his slacks and frown down at him, Jongdae can’t help but shudder at your appearance as you demand an answer. “Y-yes,” is all he says,”I’m being a good boy.” But that isn’t the right answer. Your heel makes contact with his cock, firm enough to give pleasure but light enough where Jongdae can say it’s too much and push away. He wants to do anything but that. When he doesn’t relent or get up to leave, you press your heel down harder with a lot less room than before. Jongdae cries out, shuddering and closing his eyes tight as he goes. The wet patch forming on his grey slacks where your heel used to be is the only tell of what happened without your permission. His cheeks redden with guilt as a flush slowly makes its way from his face to his neck. The guilt and shame is overwhelming. After dreaming about this moment for months, about seeing you like this and doing anything sexually, how could he fuck up this bad? How could he cum in his pants from that?

You grab him by his hair and pull tight tight tight and Jongdae can only brace himself on your thighs as he gathers his bearings. He feels so sloppy, mussed up hair and tie in a disarray, and dirty, face still covered in your orgasm and softening cock encased in cum stained boxers. Although you’re furious with him, clearly more disappointed than Jongdae is, in the tightness of your hold his cock twitches and bobs for more. He needs more, absolutely needs to see how far the two of you can go with whatever this is, but it won’t happen unless you’re on board too. “You’re a naughty boy, Jongdae. Maybe I should just head home alone if you’re not gonna take this seriously.” Fuck. Jongdae desperately wants to fix this, desperately wants to make you proud of him again, but he just doesn’t know how. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry. I want it,” he tries as he looks into your slowly approving eyes,”I wanna be a good boy.” You like that answer enough to let him go, but you’re still very disappointed. You release your grip from his hair and take the time to look over your manicured nails and ignore Jongdae entirely. He takes your threat very seriously, your disinterest making it clear that he still has a chance of changing your mind.

“Please, Y/N, please-”

“Mistress.”

“What?”

You don’t repeat yourself and Jongdae’s left trying to figure out what it means in his post orgasmic haze. Then it clicks. “Mistress, please. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

“Top shelf, towards the back.” Jongdae scrambles, genuinely scrambles, over to your bookshelf towards the door to grab a small foil from the very back of the top shelf. Just how long were you planning this? He tears the small package with his teeth and rolls the lubricated condom onto his cock. When he turns around to face you once again, you’re bent over your desk and looking over your shoulder. Jongdae stares at you for a time, wondering how on earth he got so damn lucky. He’s not quick enough, not taking advantage of this beautiful opportunity, because you say,“If you don’t make me cum, I’ll find someone who will.” Before he realizes it, his legs are moving on their own. Jongdae pulls down your thong, groaning when he has to use a little more force to get it passed your thighs, and pumps at his cock. You wiggle your ass just enough to get him going, but stop when he begins to line up his cock.

The mushroom head presses against your entrance, slowly but surely pushing until Jongdae is entirely sheathed. He’s not huge, but you can still feel him pulsing away. You’re full enough and that’s what matters. Jongdae slowly thrusts, getting used to the tight hot heat, and trying desperately not to cum so soon. He’s only had his hand for the passed few months and no matter how good his hand is, nothing compares to the real thing. You’re impatient though and don’t really care what’s going on with Jongdae. It’s not that you want him to fuck up again, but that’s exactly what you want. The opportunity to punish him, to further humiliate him, is something that you look forward to. There’s no way you’re letting him go after tonight, absolutely no way.

You reach behind you and pinch his thigh, giggling at the unabashed resulting moan he lets out. “Pain slut,” you coo as his hips stutter. The pinch works. Jongdae’s hips move faster and deeper, a concentration going as he focuses on making you feel good. You hold onto your desk and rock your hips to meet his, moaning aloud as Jongdae focuses all of his attention on you. His cock rubs against your walls, slipping out briefly due to his excitement before finding its way back inside of you with a helpful hand. This pace continues, growing more and more brutal as your moans grow louder and uncontrolled. Jongdae moans along with you, at the very feeling of you clamping down on his cock as you cum for the first time. He chases that feeling, angling his hips to hit your g-spot on every single thrust. Your moans ring throughout the office now, along with the sound of skin slapping skin. While you love that Jongdae’s absolutely rocking your world, you want to have even more fun. You bring your hand back once more to pinch and twist Jongdae’s thigh. His hips stutter again as he hisses and cries out, but continues regardless of the newfound pleasurable pain.

“Mistress,” he pants,”I can’t...I can’t do it. Please let me cum.” You’ve got him right where you want him. You smirk as you rock your hips against him and say,”I don’t know, baby. I haven’t cum yet.” Jongdae whines because he knows you’re lying. He’s felt you cum a few times already, your heat gripping his cock viciously while your body jerked and cried out, but now you’re lying.

In the heat of it all, you manage to push Jongdae away from you slightly so that you can sit up without being connected to him. You turn around to face him before sitting on the edge of the desk once again and spreading your legs. You take the time to look at him, really look at him, and smile with something like adoration as you take in his flushed form. Jongdae stands there, unsure but willing, as he looks at you in return. His hand finds his cock, swollen with need, but refuses to stroke as if he’s afraid of disobeying you. Even though he’s only just got into kink and bdsm and the like, he’s surprisingly obedient. “Do you wanna make Mistress feel good?”

Jongdae nods feverently, refusing to move neither his hand nor himself, and waits calmly for you to call him over. You stare at him for a time as his resolve cracks and breaks, whining and pleading tumbling from his swollen lips, “Please, Mistress, please. I’ll do anything. I’ll do anything you want.” In that moment, with his eyes tearing and voice watering, Jongdae is capable of doing just about anything to get what he wants. But it’s Christmas and this weird holiday confession turned into something Jongdae wasn’t at all expecting. So you motion him over, call him a good boy as he slides back into you, and run a hand through his hair as his hips start again. Giving him what he wants does nothing to calm the whines down, Jongdae’s whines get louder if anything as he nears his release. The noises he makes is enough to make you cum again as the need to take care of Jongdae fills you. “You’re doing so well, baby,” you promise, moaning yourself when he brushes against that special spot inside you again,”You’re such a good boy right? Always a good boy.” “A-always a good boy,” he whimpers back at you,”I wanna be your good boy.”

While the feeling of Jongdae grinding against you is enough to make you cum a thousand times over, it’s time to end all of this. You don’t want him dropping in your old office without even really knowing what dropping is. “Cum, baby.” The hand in his hair, the nurturing voice, the wet friction of your pussy sucking him in, it’s too much. With another “good boy” kissed into his mouth, Jongdae cums in the condom. Cums for the second time that night and the hardest time in his entire life.

Aftercare is had on Christmas at your loft downtown after a 15 minute taxi drive. Jongdae is held and cherished and asked questions about what he liked and didn’t like about the night. He liked everything, loved everything, and insisted that the two of you do it again as soon as possible. You promise him a nice date on the day after Christmas with steamed buns. For now, Jongdae is fine with Futurama marathons on Christmas with stew and beer.  Jongdae relishes this promise and all of the warm things to come while spooning you especially close that night.

But little does he know that none of these things would come to pass. You wouldn’t get to go on that date you promised. The two of you wouldn’t talk for a time. Sehun’s phone calls would stop coming in abruptly and soon you would be barely around for Jongdae to talk to. The next time Jongdae would see you, truly see you, was when you were with an old friend of his who just started working at the office.

[quicksilversquared]

Plagg and the Butterfly Costume Outtakes: Chapter 9

Plagg is willing to do a lot in order to get more cheese. When he’s spotted one too many times en route to the kitchen, he decides that a disguise is in order. One purple costume later, and Plagg is free to flit down to the kitchen without people thinking that he’s a rat.

And then he gets caught.

(1)  (2)  (3)  (OT:1)  (4)  (5)   (6)  (OT: 2)  (7)  (OT: 3)  (OT: 4) (OT: 5)  (8) (OT: 6)  (OT: 7)  ( 9 )  (OT:8) (10)

(AO3) (FF.net)

Final Battle

(Set mid-chapter 10)

Tom had started the day nervous. Today was the day they would take Mr. Agreste- Hawkmoth- down. Tom had never been in a combat situation before, and he wasn't looking forward to it. Wayzz had told him just to rely on instinct, but he was pretty sure that his instinct in squaring up against just another man versus a superpowered villain wasn't exactly the same thing.

The akuma attack mid-morning, right before they would have headed out to confront Mr. Agreste, had thrown him off. He and Sabine spent a lot of time pacing, watching the television in the corner of the room and occasionally dashing downstairs to check on their workers. Tension mounted as the akuma fight dragged on, and there were several close calls that had them chewing on their fingernails and itching to dash out and help.

"At least Chat Noir still has his head in the game," Fu said from where he had settled on the couch. He had a scroll open in his lap, and a notebook next to him for the translation. Tom had tried to peek at it, but Fu wasn't writing in a language that he recognized. "I was worried that he wouldn't be able to get down to work today, but he's still focused. I've only seen a couple mistakes."

Tom just nodded and glanced at the TV again.

"Ladybug was overly concerned about Chat Noir at the start of the fight and that was distracting her, but now she's settled down to business," Fu continued. "They're getting close, I think. The fight will be over soon- oh, and there she goes with Lucky Charm."

It didn't take long for the fight to wrap up after that, and then Ladybug and Chat Noir were bounding back across the city towards the bakery. Tom and Sabine hurried to get lunch on the table for the two of them, and food for the two tired kwamis. Adrien seemed more out of it now that there wasn't an immediate threat present.

Hopefully he would be able to focus again once they got to the mansion. Out of the four of them, Adrien as Chat Noir was the best fighter. They were planning on there not being a whole lot of fighting, of course, but they had to be prepared in case something went wrong.

  Tom steadied his breath as he stared down at the Agreste mansion. He had transformed alongside Ladybug and Chat Noir, and then together they had headed over. The two teens had left him standing across the street so they could circle around and get in the mansion through Adrien's bedroom windows without being detected.

Up on the rooftop, Tom shifted anxiously. He didn't particularly like being up so high, even when he was transformed and largely invulnerable. From here, he could see Sabine, transformed and crouched on the mansion's roof. She was largely hidden from the ground, and that was just the way they wanted it. He could also see the people in the street below, finally emerging from the buildings they had taken shelter in during the akuma attack. Some of them were pointing to the two police cars slowly pulling into position in front of the mansion, but for the time being most weren't paying that much attention. In the park, he could see Fu settling down on the fountain so he could keep an eye on the whole thing.

Tom's shell let out a beep- his signal from Ladybug and Chat Noir that they were in position- and he gave a huge leap, crossing the street and dropping down into the Agreste courtyard. He expanded his shield just a bit, then squared his shoulders and strode up to the giant doors.

He knocked, then waited. A glance up told him that Sabine was peering over the edge of the roof, ready to activate her Mirage as soon as he saw the doors open and gave the signal. She was also ready to be backup as needed.

Truthfully, Tom wasn't sure how much help either he or his wife would be as backup if things went sour and the experienced superheroes- his daughter and Adrien, he still wasn't fully used to that- needed help. They had had months and months of fighting experience, and he... well, he and Sabine had none. Still, seeing her calmed his nerves, and Tom turned back to the door with the steeliest glare he could muster.

The door opened to reveal Nathalie, Mr. Agreste's assistant. Her eyes went wide as she took Tom in, and then her shoulders slumped and she let out a breath of relief.

"Oh, I was wondering when you would come," Nathalie said, composing herself quickly and speaking quietly and quickly. "I've been hoping- anyway. Are the police-?"

"Just outside the gate," Tom assured her. "Do you think you could get Mr. Agreste to come out without tipping him off that we're here?"

"Of course." Nathalie glanced around, then turned back to him. "Are the young superheroes here as well?"

"They'll be joining me shortly," Tom assured her. Nathalie nodded, then vanished back inside. The door remained slightly open, and Tom could hear her talking to Mr. Agreste. He didn't sound happy about being interrupted, and he was definitely not happy that someone had gotten past the gate. Still, he eventually relented.

As soon as Tom heard the distinct clack-clack of Mr. Agreste's shoes coming towards the door, he signaled Sabine. There was a quiet whistling from above, and then an orange ball sailed over to the side of the house. Seconds later, the Mirages of Ladybug and Chat Noir jumped over the wall and landed on either side of him, far enough back and out that Tom wouldn't accidentally hit either of them. They settled into place just before Mr. Agreste flung the doors wide open, a scowl on his face.

Tom took great pleasure in watching the color drain from Mr. Agreste's face as soon as he spotted the superheroes standing at the door. His mouth worked wordlessly for a few moments as he spluttered.

"But- but you aren't a hundred eighty years old!"

"No, I am not," Tom agreed, wondering where on Earth Mr. Agreste had gotten that idea. A hundred eighty years old? Perhaps the question was some sort of strange diversion technique or something. "But never mind that. You have some things that aren't yours. Kindly turn them over now."

Mr. Agreste gathered himself and glared up at Tom. "I'm not simply going to turn anything over. And I have no idea what you're talking about. I'm rich. I don't need to steal anything."

Behind Mr. Agreste, the real Ladybug and Chat Noir moved into position at the top of the staircase, but Tom didn't let his gaze flicker towards them. He briefly noted that Nathalie had come out of the office again and had clearly noticed the dual set of superheroes, but she wasn't saying anything. Tom then noticed that Mr. Agreste had gone for something in his pocket, which wasn't a good sign.

"So if we're done with this ridiculousness, I'll thank you to leave the grounds," Mr. Agreste continued, the tone of his voice turning icy. Still, Tom could hear the nerves under the bluster. "Now."

Above them, something creaked. Tom glanced up briefly to see panels opening in the domed roof, and missile rigs emerging and turning to aim at Tom and the two illusions behind him. He fought down the natural panic that immediately welled up. Plagg had disarmed the missiles. He had nothing to worry about. Besides, he was wearing a magic super-suit.

That would also never stop being weird. Thankfully that was only temporary.

"I think you know full well what I'm talking about," Tom said, matching Mr. Agreste's icy tone. He kept his gaze on the other man, refusing to be distracted. "You've been caught, Hawkmoth. Turn your Miraculous over."

Mr. Agreste's expression immediately turned nasty, and he mashed the Launch button on the remote he had been carrying with a dark smile. "I think not."

Nothing happened. Mr. Agreste's expression wavered. He mashed it again, glancing a little frantically up at the roof, where the missiles were smoking rather morosely. One slid forward and clattered to the ground uselessly, breaking apart as it did. Mr. Agreste's eyes went wide and horrified for a moment, and then he recovered, scowling and drawing himself up, fingering something under his necktie. "Nooroo! Transform me!"

A purple light started to surround him, starting from his feet, and Tom resisted the urge to stumble backwards, his eyes widening in horror. They had hoped to avoid this- why weren't the other superheroes acting-

The familiar whizz of a yo-yo zipping across the entry room was music to Tom's ears. In a second, Mr. Agreste- Hawkmoth- was restrained. He stumbled and swore as the cord tightened, struggling to loosen the cords binding his arms to his sides. His transformation was still going, slower by far than the instantaneous transformations that Tom had seen before.

Was it possible that the butterfly kwami was causing the slower transformation? Could it resist, just enough to try to give them the upper hand?

Chat Noir vaulted across the room, eyes laser-focused as he slid up behind the still-transforming Mr. Agreste. There was a dark haze around his hand as he brought it up to shred the (rather ugly) peppermint-striped tie around Mr. Agreste's neck that was clearly hiding the Miraculous. Scraps of the fabric fell to the floor in shreds as Mr. Agreste tried to wriggle and twist away from Chat Noir, managing to duck away and keep his Miraculous the first time. Chat Noir swiped again and this time, his aim was true. The pin ripped away from the disintegrating remains of Mr. Agreste's collar.

Tom had only had a moment to feel victorious when a wave of purple magic, destabilized by the slow transformation and the Miraculous being torn away, flashed outward and hit him with the force of a speeding car, making him stumble even with the protection of his turtle shell shield. The illusions behind him vanished in a flash of orange smoke as the magic hit them, and the whole house shook with the force of the magical whiplash. Several more missiles were dislodged, clattering to the courtyard below, but Tom could barely spare them a thought.

Because he hadn't been the only one affected by the whiplash. Ladybug and Chat Noir had been hit even harder, both knocked off of their feet and thrown back several meters. Ladybug's yo-yo string had gone slack with her surprise and Mr. Agreste was shaking the loosened strings off, kicking them away and scrambling away.

And then he was lunging straight for Chat Noir, who was still clutching the butterfly pin in his fist.

Several things happened all at once. Tom lunged after Mr. Agreste, even though there was no way he would be able to intercept the other man before he reached Chat Noir. Chat Noir realized what was going on and scrambled backwards, eyes wide as he moved away as fast as he physically could. And Ladybug flipped herself upright in one fast move, her yo-yo flying out before her feet even hit the ground. Just before Mr. Agreste reached Chat Noir, the yo-yo caught him again.

(Tom took a moment to be proud of how fast she had recovered from her fall. That was his little girl, refusing to let a supervillain keep her down!)

Mr. Agreste didn't fully stop moving even with his arms bound to his sides, lunging forward and making Ladybug stumble as she tried to slow him down. Chat Noir took the opening, as small as it was, and rolled to his feet, beating a strategic retreat so he could keep the Miraculous away from Mr. Agreste. He dashed to Ladybug's side to try to help her out, but there was no need. She had pulled out the second yo-yo to anchor herself, meaning that Mr. Agreste couldn't pull her around anymore.

"No!" Mr. Agreste protested, half-stumbling and half-shuffling towards Chat Noir, who immediately darted away. "No!"

"Chat Noir, can you go open the gates?" Ladybug asked. She shifted her stance, tightening her grasp on the yo-yo that was holding Mr. Agreste fast. "The police are waiting outside."

Chat Noir nodded. He darted towards the door, handing the Butterfly Miraculous to Tom as he passed since Ladybug had her hands full, and then headed towards the gate, where Officer Raincomprix and several other officers waited. Tom could tell that Chat Noir was struggling to keep a detached, professional expression on his face.

The poor kid. They would have to hope that wrapping everything up here didn't take long.

Mr. Agreste was still twisting, scowling at Ladybug as he did. He seemed to be mouthing something, twisting his hand so that the palm faced Ladybug. When nothing happened, another round of swearing filled the room.

"Don't you dare try using some magic spell on me," Ladybug spat, yanking on her line and sending Mr. Agreste stumbling. "You've lost. Accept your defeat now."

Instead of giving in, Mr. Agreste's wriggling and fighting increased when he saw the police approaching through the courtyard. Tom couldn't help but wince when he spotted the blood on Mr. Agreste's neck from where Chat Noir's claws had nicked the skin earlier. It was fairly obvious that it wasn't a serious injury- the man was still twisting and trying to fight, after all, and the wounds were hardly gushing- but he knew full well that Adrien would probably feel bad about it later on.

"No! You can't take me! What will happen to Adrien?"

Tom barely restrained the urge to growl at the man. Now he was worried about his son? It was a little too late for that. Hawkmoth had been attacking the city for the better part of a year, and he had been planning the attacks for several months prior to that. He had had plenty of chances to reconsider what he was doing, and instead he continued down the path to becoming a supervillain. He had even created akumas that had gone after his own son. Tom had to wonder how much of the concern was legit and how much of it was just a show in order to try to get a lighter sentence later on.

At least Chat Noir was out of earshot. He was talking with the police officers as they came up the steps, and had clearly missed his father mentioning him. He would have a hard enough time as it was without his father acting all fatherly at the very last minute.

"I just wanted to get my wife back- to get my son's mother back!" Gabriel continued. His white shirt was getting progressively more stained with blood now from the scratches on his neck as he fought, though Tom could tell that it looked worse than it actually was. "She was trapped when we were trying to recover the Miraculous. If you take me away, Adrien won't have any parents left!"

Tom took hold of Mr. Agreste's shoulder, effectively stopping him from fighting further. Mr. Agreste swore again- Tom had to fight down the urge to scold him about his language, there were kids around- but finally stilled, scowling as the police stepped inside. As Officer Raincomprix clicked the handcuffs closed around Mr. Agreste's wrists and Ladybug retracted her yo-yo, he deliberated for a second. Should he say something about the efforts going on to free Mrs. Agreste from the temple trap?

Mr. Agreste's face crumpled as the police took firm hold of him, and Tom's decision was made. This was a man in pain, even if he had been a supervillain and even if he had completely failed to take his son into account when attacking the city. It would be cruel to not tell him.

Besides, knowing that there had been other options that didn't include becoming a supervillain and losing everything would be a punishment of its own.

"I was just trying to get my wife back," Mr. Agreste repeated hollowly. He still looked desperate. "I wasn't intending to hurt anyone."

"We are looking at old scrolls and legends to try to figure out how to free your wife from the trap in the temple," Tom told Mr. Agreste quietly, so the police behind him wouldn't hear. "We started researching possible solutions as soon as we figured out that it had happened. All of this could have been avoided if you only reached out to the Tur- er, to me in the first place instead of setting supervillains on the city. You could have had your wife back without losing everything."

At that, Mr. Agreste's eyes went wide, and then he looked like he had had all of his energy and all of the fight sucked out of him at once as his shoulders slumped and his head dropped. Tom couldn't be positive about what the other man was thinking, of course, but he suspected that Mr. Agreste probably had a whole lot of regrets right about now. Had he simply used the Miraculous to find the Turtle and tell him about Mrs. Agreste and turn over the Miraculous and the scrolls, he could have gotten his wife back without breaking his son's trust and without destroying his own life.

Tom stepped back then, allowing the police to pull Mr. Agreste forward towards the police car waiting outside of the gate before following them to join his daughter and her partner. As the police passed Ladybug and Chat Noir, Tom could hear Chat Noir suck in a sharp breath, his eyes going wide. One glance told Tom that Chat Noir had finally caught sight of the blood on his father's neck.

Oh, that wasn't good. They would have to leave soon, before Adrien could start breaking down.

As Tom passed the Butterfly miraculous off to Ladybug, he could hear Mr. Agreste ask the police if they could maybe just say that he was arrested for tax evasion or something instead of for being a supervillain, so that Adrien wouldn't be as affected by public backlash. There was a somewhat derisive snort from one of the officers at that.

Clearly they weren't feeling particularly sympathetic towards the man who had made them work overtime to try to minimize the panic and damage during akuma attacks.

"If you guys- well, if Ladybug and Chat Noir at least- could drop by the police station to give statements sometime this week, that would be great," Officer Raincomprix told the superheroes, pulling their attention away from Mr. Agreste. Chat Noir was visibly working to compose himself as he faced the officer. Behind Officer Raincomprix, another officer was talking to Nathalie and Adrien's bodyguard. "I understand if you aren't ready to talk today. You must be exhausted from the fight earlier."

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked grateful.

"Besides, we have a lot to deal with right now," Officer Raincomprix continued. "We need to find Mr. Agreste's son and talk to him, and figure out all of the legal stuff about who his guardian is going to be now, and- well. The testimony can wait, unless you think that there's something immediate you think we need to know?"

Ladybug held up the Butterfly Miraculous. "We recovered this from Mr. Agreste. It's the Butterfly Miraculous. If you want evidence photos of it now, maybe...?"

Officer Raincomprix reached partway towards the brooch and then paused, frowning when she pulled it back towards herself. "Normally, the procedure is to confiscate items relevant to a crime. But since we're talking about magical artifacts, I'm guessing you don't want this out of your hands? We would keep very good care of it, you know."

Ladybug frowned right back at him. "The Miraculous aren't normal items. I don't want to risk it falling into the wrong hands at all. All it takes is one person being a bit too curious, and then we could have another problem on our hands."

"Then a picture will have to suffice, I suppose." Officer Raincomprix pulled out a small camera and snapped several photos of the Miraculous. "Anything else you want me to look at before we meet again?"

Chat Noir nudged Ladybug, ducking his head to murmur something in her ear. Ladybug nodded and slid an arm around his waist before turning back to the officer.

"Can you check on Mr. Agreste's neck?" Ladybug asked. "It got accidentally injured when we were going for the pin, and it really didn't look great."

"Of course, of course!" Officer Raincomprix assured her. "From what I saw it was largely superficial, but we'll have it cleaned up and looked at by a medical expert as soon as we get back."

Chat Noir looked relieved. Officer Raincomprix looked a little puzzled by that, but thankfully didn't comment.

The other officer trotted up to Raincomprix, whispering something in his ear, and Raincomprix frowned. "He's not here?"

"No, sir."

"If you're talking about Mr. Agreste's son, we made sure that he would be over at a friend's house," Tom told Officer Raincomprix. He chanced a glance towards Chat Noir. He and Ladybug had turned away, and Tom suspected that Adrien's composure was maybe starting to shatter. They should really be leaving soon. "So that he wouldn't be here when his father got arrested, and in case the battle went sideways and there was damage to the house. I would think that Nathalie would know which friend he went to visit. But right now..." Tom glanced at the teens again. "I think we should leave. It's been a long day."

"Of course, of course. Thank you for your help." Officer Raincomprix waved a hand at them and Tom took that as their dismissal. He didn't waste any time in heading over to Ladybug and Chat Noir and guiding them towards the door. Once they were outside, Ladybug wrapped one arm around Chat Noir, Butterfly Miraculous still clutched tight in her hand, and threw one yo-yo. Moments later, they were sailing through the sky.

Tom took his time, leaping up onto the wall and then to the building across the street. He glanced briefly back at the mansion, eyes scanning the scene. The Agreste's roof had gone back to normal, missiles retracted back inside with the exception of the few that had tumbled to the ground. Sabine had clearly already retreated- Tom was pretty certain that he had spotted her flash of orange leaving right after Ladybug restrained Mr. Agreste- and down below, Tom could spot Mr. Agreste sitting in the back seat of one of the police cars. The officers that had escorted him out were standing next to the car, waiting for Officer Raincomprix and the other officer that had stayed back. They were saying good-bye to Nathalie now. Across the street, more people were paying attention to the police cars now. There was a lot of pointing at the police cars and, more concerningly, phones out taking pictures. Some people were pointing after the quickly retreating Ladybug and Chat Noir, and others were peering up at Tom himself.

He wondered how long it would take until someone put the pieces together. Something told him that it wouldn't take long. After all, the superheroes would hardly get involved in the arrest of someone who was being charged for tax fraud.

Sighing, Tom turned and headed after Ladybug and Chat Noir as fast as he could. Dealing with the fallout from Mr. Agreste's arrest would have to wait for another day.

For now, he had to focus on taking care of Adrien.