#I have a few more scenes in my head for this but that could only be inserted in a bigger story

[lowkeyerror]

Help With The Curriculum pt 5

Agathario x Reader

Word count: 4.8k

Notes: Requested, smut, car sex, fingering, strap-on sex, oral on strap, cunnilingus, blindfold, tied hands, 1 face slap, jealousy, lmk if there's more bc it's more than the rest haha

Summary: There’s a new professor in the English department who has taken a special interest in Agatha. You and Rio have to remind Agatha that she's already spoken for.

An: I thought it was over, but someone request another part so this is what I came up with, enjoy it.

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Things have fleshed out for your relationship with Rio and Agatha over the year. Originally there was uncertainty of what was to become of your encounters with the other professors, but now you had none. The three of you had made your relationship official, at least to each other.

The students and faculty of the university were none the wiser. Besides it wasn’t their business anyway. Unfortunately not being out publicly did have a few disadvantages. One of them being that some of the other faculty members would be flirty with the three of you.

Currently, both Rio and yourself had a problem with one of the English professors and how eager she seemed to interact with Agatha. There was no reason for her to ask for Agatha’s help or advice yet, that did not stop her.

Agatha brushed off your concerns stating that the professor was new, and just being friendly. Neither you or Rio bought that excuse.

Rio was a little more hotheaded than you when it came to the topic of Wanda. She’d roll her eyes, say something under breath, and even glare shamelessly at the auburn haired woman.

You on the other hand tried to keep your anger down. However, you couldn’t help how the new professor made you twitch with anger. Your hands, your jaw, and Rio had even caught your eye twitch once when Agatha mentioned the other woman.

“How did your kids do on the exam?”

“They did alright, the class average was like a high C. I’m thinking of curving it a little,” you respond to Rio as the two of make your way to Agatha’s classroom.

“Same, I think there were a few questions that were worded a little weird. I might just make them extra credit and remove them from the base test,” she agrees.

The two of you keep talking about your classes until you arrive at Agatha’s. You know she shouldn’t have a class at the moment, so you thought you’d go chat. Partially about the test grades and in part about dinner plans for the night.

When you enter the class, your conversation stops in its tracks. The pair of you are shocked to see Wanda already here, talking to Agatha.

The woman is leaning over Agatha’s desk, giving her the perfect view of her cleavage. You can see her biting her lip as she speaks lowly to your girlfriend. She’s clearly flirting with the woman as she chuckles when Agatha mutters something to her.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Rio says under her breath.

You simply glare at the scene in front of you. You try to stay calm, but you only feel your anger intensify as you see Wanda leaning over even further so her hand could rest on Agatha’s.

“Professor Harkness,” your voice calls out with authority.

It causes all three women in the room to startle. It’s not often that you use this tone of voice. There’s a subtle irritation in it, hidden under the lower than usual octave, and the professional air you present.

“Professor L/n, Professor Vidal, what can I do for you?”

“We need to go over the exam scores and possibly the exam itself. Professor Vidal thinks some of the questions are unfair, we need to think about restructuring the test for next semester,” you keep your focus solely on Agatha.

“Isn’t that something you should talk to the head of the department about?” Wanda jumps into the conversation.

“I am head of the department,” Rio answers with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Oh, well in that case I’ll be on my way. I just wanted to ask you, Professor Harkness, if you maybe had some time after your last class to help me with some of my curriculum?”

Rio couldn’t hold her tongue any longer, “Aren’t you an English professor? What could she possibly help with better than anyone in your department?”

Wanda begins to stutter, “There’s actually quite a bit o-of overlap and-”

“Maybe you should talk to your department head, if you’re lost,” you add on.

“I actually have plans tonight, Wanda sorry. Professor Vidal and L/n are right. I'm sure someone in your department, like Professor Romanoff, can help you craft your curriculum,” Agatha answers the woman kindly.

The English professor nods to herself dejectedly, “Thank you Professors.”

She makes her exit after that. When the door closes behind her the room stays silent.

“That little slut was all over you Agatha,” Rio begins her tangent. “Her tits were practically in your face, she was just waiting on you to lean forward some more.”

“Would you relax it’s not like that.”

Rio’s jaw drops slightly and her eyebrows raise, “Oh, it’s not like that? Then why is she, an English professor, repeatedly asking you, a history professor, for your help.”

“She’s just new to being a professor, it’s not like-”

“No, she didn’t ask you for tips on being a professor. She asked you to help her with the curriculum and we of all people know what that really means. We’re nearly halfway into the semester, the fuck does she need help for?” Rio does not let Agatha finish.

“Y/n would you tell her that she's overreacting?” Agatha looks to you for help.

Your expression hardens, “She was touching you.”

“It was a friendly-"

“Rio and myself are the only ones allowed to touch you like that,” you hold her gaze.

“You can’t be serious?”

You walk around the desk to stand next to her, “And you can't be this naïve. You know that whore likes you, and you're letting her take up your time, touch you, and flirt with you? Do you need a reminder of who you belong to?”

You see her squirm under your words, “Y/n.”

“Rio and I will show you tonight. You're going to take what we give you.”

You don't say anything else turning on your heel. Rio gives Agatha a small teasing smile before walking out behind you.

“So, what's the plan?”

You smirk at the older woman, “You’re in charge tonight.”

Rio stops walking, and her eyes widen, “I’m what?”

You chuckle at her, checking the hall for prying eyes before you kiss her on the cheek, “You’ve earned it. I’m following your lead.”

“I have some ideas.”

Your smile only grows, “I’m all ears baby.”

Rio shares them with you eagerly. It’s nothing too crazy, but you find yourself falling in love with the way she thinks. You can tell she’s wanted to do this for a long time. By the time she’s gone over the main things, you can’t ignore how wet you are.

“Rio,” you say her name tentatively.

She hums in response.

“When’s your next class?”

“Half hour, why?”

You don't elaborate, instead quickening your pace walking towards the parking garage. When you get to your car, you climb in the backseat. You tug Rio in after you.

She falls on top of you, your lips find hers eagerly. She surprised by your actions, but falls into them with no problem.

You take her hand and slip it into your pants, she gasps at your wetness.

“Your dirty little ideas got me so hot baby. I need you,” you breathe out against her lips.

“Fuck, you’re drenched,” she slips 2 fingers inside of you.

You help her slide your pants down around your ankles so she’s able to thrust inside of you. You could hear her breathing into your ear, her lips ever so lightly grazing your earlobe.

“I love the way your fingers curl into me. I love your weight on me. I love it when you’re in control baby, so giving,” you breathe out.

She begins to pump faster, sucking on your neck. Her thumb begins to play with your clit, knowing that you were on limited time.

“Cum for me. Please, show me how good I make you feel.”

You cum on her fingers and she helps you ride it out. You kiss her passionately not wanting to go back to the campus. Rio is the one to break the kiss.

She reaches over to the small towels that you'd taken to keeping in the car. She cleans you deliberately.

“Let’s just cancel class,” you play with hairs on the back of her neck.

“You know I can't do that,” Rio kisses your nose.

You find yourself whining a bit, “Family emergency, please. Let’s just go home, get a head start on the activities.”

Rio bites her lip, “You’re whining.”

“I’m begging,” you correct her. You can see her about to crack. Your hand cups her face gently, “Please, I need more of you. I want to make you feel good too.”

“Y/n,” she pleads.

“Fine, I guess we can go back to class,” you frown.

Rio puts her hand on your chest, keeping you down. You hardly beg, the submissive needy nature that you’re exhibiting does something to Rio. She’s usually the one who’s the neediest of the bunch, but today it doesn’t seem that way.

“You’re going to make it worth my while, pretty girl?”

You blush at the nickname, a singular word spoken softly from your lips, “Yes.”

“You better.”

The two of you maneuver so that you’re sitting up. Both sending out an email canceling the rest of your classes for the day.

Rio gives you a quick kiss, and exits your car, “I’ll see you at home.”

You all took separate cars to work, partially because you all had different schedules, but also in part to keep the school out of your business.

You hop in the driver’s seat, trying to calm yourself before you drive away. While you called it home, technically it was Agatha’s place. Rio and yourself kept your residences, but you spent most of time at Agatha’s.

Somehow Rio manages to beat you home. You’re eager to get inside. When you do, it’s eerily quiet. You head straight to the bedroom.

When you go in, Rio stands with her back facing the door. She’s already naked. You shut the door softly behind you. She still doesn’t look your way. You strip off your clothes before wrapping your arms around her middle.

You begin placing a trail of kisses on her shoulders, up the side of her neck. Her eyes are blown when they meet yours. You shudder under her gaze. You try to kiss her, but she pulls away slightly.

“I know we talked about what we were going to do to Agatha, but…”

Your eyebrows crease, “But what baby?”

“Can I fuck you?”

You feel your face heat up without your permission.

“With the strap?” You ask her for clarification.

“It’s ok, if you aren't comfortable, but-"

You kiss her eagerly. The sound of your lips smacking against each other, fills the room.

“Baby, I’ll ride you so nasty,” you giggle lowly against her lips.

Now it’s Rio who is blushing . She doesn’t say anything as you help her into the harness. Once the strap is attached to the base, she lays on the middle of the bed.

You’re still slick from her fingering you in the car. You see her reaching for the lube, but you grab her hand.

“I want to get it wet,” you tell her.

You spit in your hand before you begin to stroke the fake cock. It’s not too long after that your lips replace your hand and you begin to slowly bob your head up and down the cock.

“Oh my god,” Rio is intoxicated by the image.

She has truly never pictured seeing you in such a way. She’s hesitant, but her hand tangles itself in your hair. You can hear her breathing become shaky.

“L-look at me,” you hear her stutter.

You look through your lashes to find her staring at you lustfully. Not breaking contact, you go down to the base of the toy. She holds you there until you’re gagging on the rubber piece.

When you come off of it, you’re teary eyed, but you continue to lick her cock. You press kisses against the shaft.

“I need you inside of me.”

You straddle her waist. The way she looks so enamored has you feeling really hot. She can hardly speak as she watches you.

“Speechless baby?”

Rio swallows hard, “You’re just so pretty worshipping my cock. I just want to watch you.”

“Then watch me.”

You don’t remember the last time you had something fill you up this way. Slowly you lower yourself onto the saliva covered cock. You moan as you take it all. Rio’s hands place themselves on your hips.

It takes a moment for you to adjust. Your hands rest in the middle of her chest as you find a rhythm riding her.

“Holy shit,” your eyes roll back as you pick up the pace. “Rio, please baby, I need you t-to fuck me.”

Your words seem to pull her out of her trance. Her hips start snapping up to meet you as you bounce on her cock. Her hands travel from your waist to your breasts. She massages the mounds in her hand before playing with your nipples.

Rio sits up abruptly, pulling you closer against her. Her tongue glides over your nipple, sucking gently.

“Oh fuck,” you yelp in surprise as she lifts you just to lay you flat on the bed.

She begins to bury herself into your cunt at a rapid speed. The sound of her impaling your sloshing cunt paired with her guttural breathing sends you into a frenzy.

“You take me so good sweetheart. I could watch your hole swallow my cock forever. I can feel your hole sucking me in. You’re so soaked, I keep thinking it’s just going to slip out of you.”

You lock your legs around her, making sure she stays inside of you, “I’m going to cum.”

Rio fucks you even harder, nails digging into your hips, “Cum on my cock.”

You fall apart at her command. Her thrust slow before she gingerly pulls out of you, making you whimper at the loss fullness.

She cuddles up into your arms. It causes you to chuckle a bit as you run your fingers through her hair.

“You’re such a softie baby,” you kiss her forehead.

“Shut up, I didn't think you'd take it like that is all. You had me in awe,” Rio admits looking up at you.

Her fingers draw patterns on your skin.

“It made me feel really hot, so caught up in the way I looked with you inside of me, could barely even speak,” your hand falls from her head down her back.

“I’ll do better next time,” she mumbles.

You tilt her head up to look at you, a seriousness in your eyes, “I loved the way you fucked me baby, and if you can keep being my good girl, I’ll let you do it again.”

“Your good girl?”

You nod, “My good girl, since Agatha is so preoccupied with the English department.”

“I’m going to be rougher with her,” Rio says it as a statement.

“As rough as you want. We’re going to make sure everyone at that place knows she’s taken,” your fingers play with Rio’s harness. “In the meantime though, I think it’s time I gave you a reward for fucking me so sweetly.”

You undo the harness to expose Rio’s pussy.

“Yes, please.”

That's how the two of you spent your time waiting for Agatha. Some fucking, some talking, and then more fucking. When Agatha did come home, she was welcomed by the sound of Rio loudly moaning your name.

She takes her time going to the bedroom. When she gets there, she hears the sound of your soft laughter. Going through the door she sees your head resting on Rio’s thigh. You have a small smile on your lips as the other woman scratches your head with her free hand.

“So this is why you both decided to play hooky today?” Agatha makes her presence known.

The air in the room shifts when you both lay eyes on her. She freezes in place under the weight of the gaze.

“Tonight, you have a lesson to learn,” you say standing.

Rio follows suit, her eyes shamelessly dragging over Agatha’s body.

Agatha scoffs, “Wanda is just-”

“We don’t care. She has a thing for you, and you haven't deterred her enough. Tomorrow you're going to let her know you’re taken,” you rebut.

Rio shakes her head, “She won't have to tell her, she’ll figure it out on her own. She should pick up the… context clues, English professor and all.”

“Fine, do your worst, I suppose,” Agatha gives in.

Rio smiles holding up the silk bands for Agatha to see. The smug look drops from her lips. Rio passes you one of the ribbons while she takes the other.

Rio careful covers Agatha’s eyes, tying the ribbon behind her head. The woman then removes the top half of Agatha’s clothing. You pull her wrist out in front of her tying them together.

You and Rio lead her to the chair in her room, helping her sit down. Rio takes a seat on Agatha’s lap while you stand behind the chair.

“Agatha, you look so perfect tied up like this,” Rio’s thumb cascades across Agatha’s sharp jaw, before pulling at her bottom lip. “Suck,” the tone she uses is a complete 180 from the way she was speaking to you.

Agatha complies taking Rio’s thumb into her mouth.

“You’ve been behaving like an attention whore. Reveling in any ounce that that red headed skank has been giving you. Do we not give you enough attention?”

Your hands plant themselves on her shoulders, massaging them. Rio feels Agatha’s mouth vibrate around her thumb. She pulls it out of the woman’s mouth.

“She asked you a question?”

“You give me more than enough attention.”

Rio hums, then leans forward so her lips are touching Agatha’s ear. “Then why are you letting other bitches touch you?”

Rio gets out of Agatha’s lap and you remove your hands from her shoulders. The lack of contact makes the woman want to stand.

“Sit still,” you command, which causes her to stop all her squirming.

While Agatha sits, you and Rio prepare yourselves. The two of you stand in the middle of the room, stroking your fake cocks. You can see Agatha begin to lose her composure as she waits for something else to happen.

“Alright, come to the middle of the room and get on your knees,” Rio gives the directions.

It’s a bit of a challenge with her hands tied and the blindfold, but she manages it fine. You turn her so that she’s facing the two of you.

“Open wide, we’re going to shove our cocks down your throat,” you grab a fistful of her hair.

She listens, even making a show of sticking her tongue out. You guide her with a firm grip, making her take Rio first.

“That’s it, relax that throat for me,” Rio begins thrusting into the woman’s mouth.

Her grip replaces yours and you watch Agatha struggle with Rio’s building pace. Rio is rough with Agatha, holding her head down until the full length is in her mouth. She keeps her there until a few harsh coughs leave her, causing her to come completely off of the dick.

She takes a few deep breaths, but you don’t allow her to catch many more, before you shove your cock in her mouth.

“If you want attention, you got it baby.”

You don’t fuck her as hard as Rio, but you guide her more. You control the way her head bobs with an iron like grip. The saliva pooling down her chin and onto her chest drives you insane. It’s the power of it all, seeing her in this position turn you on tremendously. You push her head off of your dick, watching her chest heave up and down.

She’s not in the floor for much longer as Rio yanks her up and practically throws her on the bed. Rio doesn’t let up as her lips attach to the side of Agatha’s neck sucking harshly.

You join in, bombarding the other side of Agatha’s neck. The woman in between begins to pant at the sensation. Rio begins to play with Agatha’s nipples as she assaults the woman’s neck. This causes her back to arch slightly off of the bed.

You meet Rio in the middle of Agatha’s throat. The two of you remove yourselves from Agatha to see the full necklace of hickeys that you’ve created around the woman’s neck and collarbone.

“Now everyone will know that you’re taken,” your finger runs the path of the dark purple bruising.

You don’t say anything else as Rio pulls you into a sloppy kiss. The two of you are hovering over Agatha. The woman on her back mewl at the sounds she’s hearing. She can’t help, but fight against the restraints, wanting to touch the two of you so badly.

When the kissing stops, you decide to rid Agatha of the bottom portion of her clothing. You can't resist her leaky pussy. You look briefly to Rio, almost as if asking permission, and she nods.

Agatha withers as she feels your breath against her cunt. You see her hole clenching around nothing.

“Please,” she cries out.

You give her a teasing lick that makes a desperate wail escape her lips.

“Beg some more,” Rio instructs her.

Her voice is unsteady as she attempts to plead, “Y/n, Rio please. Someone, I’m sorry I- I let her touch me. I don't want anyone to touch me that's not you, please just. I need you, pl-”

Her sentence is cut off by a high pitch yelp as you begin sucking on her clit. While you get consumed with her drooling pussy, Rio begins to suckle off her. Her teeth playfully nip at Agatha’s tits before nursing from them like a baby.

The simultaneous stimulation has Agatha’s brain turning to mush. She doesn’t know what sounds to make or words to say, it all just becomes gibberish. She can feel herself getting close and you can tell by the way her cunt tries to take your tongue.

Instantly you’re removing your lips from he and Rio is doing the same. It causes Agatha to sit straight up in bed. She’s looking and moving frantically.

“No! Please, I need to cum. Let me cum, don’t leave me like this. I was being a stupid slut, I won’t do it again. You own me, you both own please. I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

You can tell by the wet spot on the blindfold and the tearstain on her cheeks that she’s crying.

“Stomach flat on the bed, ass in the air,” Rio’s words have Agatha scrambling to comply.

You take the time to remove your harness and sit in front of Agatha with your legs open. Rio straddles her legs rubbing the tip of the strap through Agatha’s messy folds. The woman responds by sticking her ass higher on the air.

Rio gives it a harsh smack, “I’ve been waiting so long for this.” She wraps Agatha’s hair around her fist yanking the woman partially up right. “Now eat her out while your pussy swallows my cock.”

She shoves Agatha’s face down right into your pussy, which the woman starts licking and sucking ravenously. You almost come off of the bed at her carnivorous speed.

“Oh fuck,” you lament.

That’s when Rio decides to slip herself fully into Agatha. Her body shakes and her mouth stops working on you as she tries to recompose herself.

“Keep eating or I’ll pull out,” Rio threatens.

Agatha’s face buries itself between your legs. She can't worry about her nose or the mess on her face all she knows is that she wants Rio to move. Your taste quenches a part of her greed, but she needs more.

Rio begins to pound Agatha’s pussy. Unable to stop herself from slapping the woman’s ass as she drives deep inside of the woman.

“I’m going to cum,” you murmur, reaching behind Agatha’s head to untie the blindfold. When it falls from over her eyes you lift her head just enough to meet your gaze. “Look at me while you make me cum.”

You slap her firmly across the face, like she had asked for last time, having looked a little more into the practice. The long grunt she let out into your cunt sent you over the edge.

“Now who do you belong to,” you move some hair out of her face .

Her words are unintelligible as she fails to answer you. The bliss she feels with Rio fucking into her nearly too much to handle. Rio’s arm locks Agatha in a semi choke hold, raising her body at a new angle. It’s just enough so she can speak into Agatha’s ear as she rams into her.

“Who owns you, Aggie?” Rio whisper, biting Agatha's ear lobe.

“You own me, you own me , you own me,” she keeps repeating it until she nearly screaming.

You swipe your fingers through your folds before pushing them into her mouth, “Ssshhhh. That whore will never fuck you like we can. She can’t have you like this. Don’t ever let her fucking touch you again.”

She nods her head as best she can in her position.

“R-rio please,” she whimpers, with your fingers still in her mouth.

The begging, mixed with the way Agatha was desperately pushing herself back to meet the thrusts, has Rio cumming.

“Make a mess for me, Agatha,” her hold on the woman’s throat tightens.

It sends her over the edge. You quickly take your fingers out of her mouth, to catch the woman as she slumps forward. Her head leans on your shoulder with her mouth open. You don’t care about the saliva that begins to pool on your skin.

Agatha winces slightly as Rio gently pulls out of her. She discards the harness, wrapping her arms around Agatha’s middle. Her head rest against Agatha’s back. You all silently attempt to catch your breaths.

You untie Agatha’s wrists and she sighs in content. The first thing she does is place one hand on your cheek and the other on Rio’s thigh.

“Jealousy is so hot on you two,” Agatha breaks the silence.

You both laugh, but you're the next one to speak, “Seriously though if she doesn't back off after this, I'm going to snap.”

“Me too, you’re ours Agatha, “ Rio adds on, placing a gentle kiss on Agatha’s back.

She nods lazily against your shoulder, “I’m yours.”

“Damn right,” you kiss her forehead.

“I’m exhausted,” Rio moves to fully lay on the bed.

You agree with her, “We’ve been fucking since we walked through the door, I could sleep for 3 days.” Your stomach growls causing you to speak again, “Some food wouldn't hurt either.”

Agatha is the one to get out of the bed and throw on a robe. You and Rio watch in amusement as she struggles to walk. Her legs tremble with every step.

“Where you going love?”

She doesn’t look back, “To the kitchen, I’ll cook us something. It’s the least I could do after using Wanda to make you jealous.”

“I fucking knew it,” Rio calls out.

“Don’t be too mad. You finally got to fuck me, my good girl,” Agatha responds.

Rio tries not to, but she melts at Agatha’s words.

“That sweet talk won’t work with me,” you call out to her.

“Are you sure about that daddy?” She annunciates the last word in a teasing tone.

You fluster at her words, “Not fair, Harkness.”

“All is fair in love and war Professor L/n.”

Rio takes your hand in hers, “She always wins banter pretty girl, you’ll get used to it.”

You don’t concede yet, taking one more shot at Agatha, “Well in that case, I guess it’s only fair to tell you that your good girl fucked me with the strap earlier.”

Rio can’t hide the tint in her cheeks as she smacks you lightly on the arm. You fail to hold back your laughter as you see Agatha hobble back into the doorway.

“She did not,” Agatha says incredulously.

You kiss the top of Rio’s head, “She did, and I loved every second of it.”

“So when do I get to?” Agatha complains.

You shrug, “Considering you purposefully made us jealous, I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

“Y/n,” she drags out your name when she whines.

Rio interjects, “I think you'll have to… earn it.”

“Precisely.”

Agatha pouts, “I’m going back to the kitchen.”

“Wait,” you stand up pulling Rio with you.

You peck Agatha’s lips, “ Thank you for cooking , love.”

Rio does the same, “We love you.”

She smiles shooing you both away, “Yeah, yeah, yeah, love you too. I’ll call you when it’s ready."

While Agatha cooks, the two of you straighten up the room, before getting cleaned up, with fresh clothes on. You can’t help but smile, thinking about this little life you cultivated with Rio and Agatha. It feels like a personal slice of heaven. If you knew this is what would come of Agatha asking for help with the curriculum, maybe you would’ve asked her first.

[linddzz]

Sat here and combed through all your jayvik analysis posts giggling and kicking my feet but PLEASE tell me more about the whole dom/sub thing, especially the whole “they have absolutely not discussed that this is the dynamic, it just happens and neither of them acknowledge it” because that is genuinely so interesting. Like I could already tell Viktor had hella ‘quiet calm collected dom’ vibes especially compared to jayce’s ‘excited protective puppy who would FOLD at being called a good boy’ energy…

But the whole bit on the bridge where Viktor smacks his hand away without even looking? And Jayce EARNS BACK TOUCHING PRIVELEGES? Fucking scrumptious please tell me more.

god i need to get to writing my fic bc I feel like "talk more about it" would be solved just by me dropping the link This ended up being TOO LONG so I split it between me going feral about that bridge scene and then me going feral at other moments of nonverbal communication that I use to feed my Dom/sub "oh you two are just LIKE THAT" interpretation. So. here's part one

That bridge scene tho...im so normal about it

hhhggg god that bridge scene is one that I rotate in my brain so much because it is such a small moment that makes so much of their dynamic click. For me, specifically, it clicks the "submissive like a guard dog is submissive" dynamic, where Jayce is, on a surface level, the stronger and more forceful of the two while Viktor is the one actually holding the leash (until he's too tired to because he's dying, and I only half joke when I say that their issues at the end of season 1 are because Jayce is suddenly the equivalent of a dog holding it's own leash and getting stressed out about it.

Jayce's touching before the bridge come across as pretty overbearing honestly. He's holding his hand out to keep Viktor from speaking out...

Heck, while the still screenshot doesn't show it too well, Jayce slings an arm around Viktor with enough force that it knocks Viktor off balance for a second and shoves him forward a little.

Viktor got dragged to the hexgate when Jayce is looking into shipping discrepancies happening there, even though it obviously doesn't involve him and he does NOT want to be there.

(In hindsight this is a hilarious bit of showing that it did not occur to either of them that there's no goddamn reason for Viktor to be here. This is council business, Jayce outright says "I'm a councilor now Viktor" which does not answer why tf Viktor needs to be there. these twits just handle all problems as a unit lmao. The tragic flip is that this is could then be a breaking moment when Viktor goes back to the lab, realizing that him and Jayce are not, in actuality, a single unit anymore. because Jayce got a second job that is not Lab With Viktor oh my god you codependent dweebs)

Up until that point it would be really easy to see Jayce as being presumptive and unintentionally overpowering Viktor in personality. Heck, it's what I thought the dynamic was as I was watching Season 1, though even as I thought that it seemed somehow...not quite correct.

And then the bridge scene.

Even before the hand-smack, there's a flip on the reading up to this point that Jayce has been accidentally bowling over Viktor by force of personality/physicality. Jayce comes in hot, upset, angrily standing over Viktor and chewing him out, and Viktor is just like "....and??"

Viktor is calm if baffled and annoyed at Jayce's frustration (also; Viktor just rolling his eyes and shaking his head at the actual riot happening a few yards away? hilarious. i love him.) His almost nonchalantly confused tone when he asks "what difference does that make?" always gets me. the entire back and forth says, to me anyway, that Jayce may be more brash and socially competent, but he's not overpowering Viktor at all, actually.

Viktor is going to do whatever the fuck Viktor wants.

This is immediately made clear by the much beloved hand smack. Viktor doesn't even look up, and his smack shows that he is perfectly capable of setting a hard boundary on Jayce's touching, and that Jayce will IMMEDIATELY fold and apologize when that boundary is set. That smack makes it suddenly clear that when Jayce goes for the shoulder touch right after apologizing, Viktor consciously allows it.

idk WHY but I also love this little tiniest moment when Jayce is going for the second touch. Viktor glances back as Jayce approaches him (looking like a cat with its ears pinned back lmao), then looks away as he accepts the second touch and they move on. It's such a tiny detail of showing Viktor, who is still pretty pissed at Jayce, seeing the touch as it comes in and then deciding to let it happen. im rotating them in my mind. please send help

In my framing of them being a guard dog/handler dynamic, the bridge scene is us seeing a moment of the leash getting a sudden sharp tug to bring the guard dog to heel. It resets all the earlier instances as being ones that Viktor allows to happen, because he doesn't see a need to correct it.

fuck man this doesn't even get into the bridge scene as a major crack between them as the moment Viktor loses his trust that Jayce will understand his decision. i am unwell

[ohdeersthings]

Okay, so you know that scene from Disney's Hercules? With Meg when she stands up while ringing out her hair and the water is beautiful behind her and Hercules is whipped? Yeah that but with Neteyam.

~.~

After relocating to the Metkayina and learning their ways, Neteyam had finally grown into one of their own, in both spirit and body. Now an adult, he grew taller, broader, his physic left many girls and women watching him like predators from a distance.

Coming back from a successful hunting trip, he carried a large net of fish on his back, Ao'nung and other men walking along side him with their own. "I'd say today was an excellent hunt,"Ao'nung had a smug look on his face, dumping the net off fish into a large basket that the clans cooks used in their little pavilion to keep track of the food brought in.

"You only say that because you got the biggest catch of the day," Neteyam gave a playful glare to his friend, shoving the next clan leader out of his way before dumping his own net of fish as well.

"Ah, come on my friend," Ao'nung placed his arm around the dark blue Na'vi, giving him a teasing noogie to the head before the man pushed him with a growl, pointing his finger at Ao'nung.

"Keep on, we'll see who's the better hunter," Neteyam challenged, their friends of the group letting out hoots of encouragement at the sound of the banter. "So you say Forest Boy," Ao'nung was quick to push Neteyam down out of surprise, taking off into the village laughing.

"Ao'nung, you skxawng!" Neteyam quickly stood up and took off after his friend, a grin on his face as he quickly caught up. Ao'nung had never been that fast of a runner.

"Watch it!" A older clansmen yelled, pulling his mate out of the way of the two young men who were too busy acting like children than the adults they were. "Sorry!" Neteyam waved back in apology, not looking to where he was running when he collided with something, or rather someone.

Someone much shorter, much softer, much plumper than him, he noted before both were sent flying to the sea from the walk way, Neteyam briefly hearing his friends chortle of laughter from above the water.

He resurfaced and shook his braids out of his face, Ao'nung holding his stomach, pointing with a laugh as the other guys joined in. "Way to use your eyes Neteyam, I should take notes," One of the hunters mocked, Ao'nung reaching a hand out now to pull his friend up.

It was only when Neteyam turned to view who he'd run into that his breath caught in his throat, eyes wide as he saw the most beautiful woman.

She stood a few feet away onto a lower part of a marui she'd climbed onto. Half bent over to ring our her hair, her eyes trailing up his person as she stood up, her eyes shining in the sunlight like the sea behind her, painting the most gorgeous picture in his eyes. One he didn't wanna forget.

"You are probably the most lucky or unlucky bastard ever," Ao'nung mumbled, a grin on his face as he wrapped an arm around his star struck friend, the rest of the hunters now looking at the young woman.

Only she was not just any young woman, she was the daughter of the lead hunter in the clan, a true treasure to any young man who could gain her father's approval, which really meant her approval.

"Who, is that," Neteyam was starstruck as she girl looked him up and down, water trailing down her body to places he wanted to explore in a more, secluded, area with just the two of them.

"Why don't you go find out," Ao'nung pushed his friend in her direction, Neteyam tripping over his feet to walk properly at first but approached the young lady who watched him walk over, a small hint of amusement hidden in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," Neteyam bowed his head in apology, somewhat guilty for having run into her, but also relishing the fact he had.

"Mmm, for someone who is such a wonderful hunter, you're not that good with watching where you're going," Her voice was firm but soft, almost playfully condescending the poor man who felt ready to drop to his knees.

"If I'd been watching, I never would've run into you, and I would've hated to miss that opportunity," He flashed a grin in her direction, the girl crossing her arms as she gave one back, "A shame this will be your only opprotunity for the day," she huffed, turning around and letting her hair hit him in the face before beginning to walk off.

"Wait, you don't have to run off, I didn't even get your name?" Neteyam called out to her, watching as she stopped only a few feet away, turning to look over her shoulder, "I said you already used your opprotunity today, who knows what opprotunity you have tomorrow," she smirked, flashing her fangs before walking away, hips swaying just a little bit more than before.

"What a fine opprotunity indeed," Neteyam hummed, his eyes trailing after her body as she disappeared around the corner of Marui's.

[procyonloser]

(this was inspired by me watching got scenes)

Lucifer could feel the cold biting into his skin, until it hit his bones, but there was little reprieve from it - no comfort in between warm layers of silk and cloth. Just the vastness of the Great Hall, and roaring fires that did little but remind him of what he didn't have. When he was young, a boy playing between pillars and hiding behind statues to listen to his father speak and rule, he'd not felt it then.

It'd been hours of council meetings, of paperwork, and of hearing from his people, their problems and worries. The winter had been long, food was running slim, and their coffers were beginning to dry up. Lucifer had a beloved wine that had not touched his lips since the beginning of summer, and he missed it greatly, though at the very least his stomach was still full.

There was a sudden commotion as one of his commanders marched into the room, followed by lines of soldiers, all with flowing red capes that depicted his sigil on the back. Lucifer barely recognized most of them, he'd grown too old to know every single one of his soldiers.

"My Lord, raiders attempted to attack the most northern district of Pentagram. Unfortunately for them, one of our garrisons were making a routine patrol through the neighboring village. They were able to respond, and kill many of those that were part of the attack. We were able, however, to capture a man who seems to be their king." His commander spoke, after a deep bow before his king. Lucifer felt his eyebrows raise; it'd been a long few months of raiders stealing grain, weapons, lives, women.

"The raiders have no king, only distinct leaders of different factions." Carmilla spoke from her seat alongside Lucifer's council. "You can stop one, but another will arise. Don't mistake one success as a war now won."

Lucifer appreciated her words and experience in the matter, but it didn't change the success they had attained. He nodded his head at the woman, before turning to the commander.

"We will celebrate your success, but the Lady Carmine speaks truth - we shall not grow complacent, make certain to continue patrols in the area. It's possible that his men that fled or survived will want revenge."

At that, the commander made a queer expression, uneasy by something Lucifer said.

"Do you take issue with your king?" Lucifer asked after a moment, amusement on his tongue. He was used to being questioned, not the inspiring figure that his lady wife had once been. They saw him as weak.

"No, my Lord. It's... All but their king, their leader, whatever we may call him... They're all maidens."

Silence spread around the busy room.

"The raiders are... women?" Lucifer asked slowly, making certain he understood what was being said. The commander nodded briefly, and suddenly there was a flurry of whispers and gossip throughout the Lords and Ladies in the hall, and even amongst his council they seemed stunned. What monster would force young girls to fight their wars?

"Bring in their leader," Lucifer ordered.

The commanders dragged in a man in chains, and they needed more than one to do so. The man was tall, but not thin like those who struggled to find even corn on which to eat. There was no gauntness to his face, just a few bruises. He had brown hair, and wore a mix of furs and clothing that had most certainly been stolen from someone of higher standing. He'd woven fine royal purple fabric around his waist as what Lucifer could only interpret as an insult.

But, he was handsome, in his own way. Lucifer had taken many men to bed who were far less attractive, and they were all too eager to please their king. They were simple, easy things that filled a gap since his wife had passed. But, they weren't interesting, they weren't fun.

"I don't bow," the man said with a cocky grin as he reached the throne. The commander responded by kicking his knees out from under him, until the man fell. The look he sent the man promised a violent and bloody death, as though the raider wasn't the one in chains.

"That's enough," Lucifer said tiredly, gazing down at the man. "What is your name and title?"

"Adam, the First Man." He said instantly, to giggles in the crowd.

"Curious, I seem to be older than you - how exactly did you come by that title?" Lucifer asked with some humor, which got him a sharp grin in return.

"Cus none of you are real fuckin' men. You don't fight, you don't fuck, you just live in pretty castles. Look at you, a small man in all your fancy things. Pathetic. I bet you couldn't kill a hart, let alone a man." Adam jeered at him, and the crowds began to murmur.

"And yet you steal these pretty things, you rape, you kill." Lucifer shot back, getting to his feet, though it did little but demonstrate their height difference. "It seems to me as though you desire life of the gentleman, while you behave as a beast, first man."

Adam spit at his feet. "I don't rape, that's your soldiers."

Lucifer prickled at the implication. "You kidnap women and force them to fight for you."

"I do no such thing, they are offered the chance to live a more fulfilling life, and they come to me willing." Adam answered with a cocky smile. "You know, don't you? Little king? Since your dead wife was the one this nation truly feared, and you're just a placeholder."

Lucifer stared at him, before looking at his commander. "Remove his bindings. Don't question me. Remove them, and hand him your sword."

The room slowed to a stop, faces turning pale, confused. His council began to speak up, though those who knew him best kept quiet.

"If I best you, you will be my pet, you will no longer be a man. You will live out your days here, in the castle." Lucifer spoke easily, pulling his own sword from the hilt. Adam looked amused, eager, a bloodlust in his eyes. "If you kill me, well... You've killed the king. You'll be a legend, a hero, and everyone will know your name until the end of days."

"Deal." Adam breathed out, grabbing the sword eagerly. His stance was untrained, but strong. Proof he was a strong fighter.

But, Lucifer had been underestimated his entire life.

And he'd killed many men much larger.

He'd enjoy keeping Adam around.

[evangelifloss]

Hey, I just red your amazing fight analysis and I want to know what you think about the scene where the bartender at the continental bar in the first movie says to John that he looks „vulnerable“. Do you think it’s the look in his eyes or the way he acts or moves ? (Which in my opinion look pretty normal) and how do you think John was before he left the business? Was he more cruel with his kills ?

I'm guessing you mean this scene, right? I hope so because I made this gif JUST for this ask since I LOVE what you've sent in. Thank you @persephone411 💖💖

To answer why the bartender picks up on John's vulnerability without him seemingly displaying any signals, I'll first and foremost use what I know of the later instalments regarding John's behaviour. And that is how much he speaks. Between movies 1 and 2, there's only a 15 word difference in regards to how many lines of dialogue he has (1st movie has 484, 2nd has 499) and for a movie that has a run time of 1 hour and 40-ish minutes, that's not alot of dialogue to begin with.

Take for example, Jack Sparrow from the 1st Pirates of the Caribbean movie. Reading through the script, I counted roughly 490 lines of dialogue from him and that movie has a runtime of 20 minutes LESS than John Wick 1!

So we know that John isn't a talker. Yet, when he finds himself back at the Continental bar, and reunites with the bartender who knows him very well, and given how familiar they are (her excitement at seeing him, a brief hug/cheek kiss) it becomes apparent that John is more... open. He doesn't just order a drink and say nothing else. He engages with her, and expresses, "She (helen) was more than I deserved." Which by all accounts expresses a softer side to John, an admission that he is not impervious to grief. Assassins don't do that. Retired he may still technically be, he is still in a room full of people who are NOT retired, who could overhear and see the man behind Baba Yaga. That sentimentality can get you killed in the Assassin world.

Secondly, his face is sporting a few rough marks, and I very much doubt John the Baba Yaga would show himself at the Continental bar sporting proof he can be injured.

As my final thought, for me personally, it's his tone and his eyes that give away his grief. His inner turmoil that will eventually overflow into a bloody tsunami. The micro-movements of his face as he pauses, when he looks away, and even when he greets her, the man is Tired. The man is not at this point in time, the Baba Yaga.

The second part of your ask is very interesting because we have almost next to nothing to go off of! No prequels (thank god) and barely any direct Lore other than what others speak about John which ironically, is missing direct context which leaves us viewers to speculate.

The John we know is the old John. The grieving John. The Man. We get glimpses of what he used to be, and how characters react upon hearing his name but we never get the Baba Yaga. Not entirely.

Continuing off this, my personal speculation is that John wasn't a vicious killer. He was an incredibly efficient one. You can buy time with a sadist if you are able to withstand them long enough for help to arrive but you cannot do the same towards someone whose only goal is to kill you on sight. As quickly as possible. And that someone also happens to be the best of the best. Combine those two skills and I think that is what makes Baba Yaga so terrifying to those in the underworld. It was enough for Viggo, head of a massive Russian syndicate, to go silent upon hearing the name despite knowing John had been retired for 5 years!!

On another note, and this barely gets touched upon but throughout the movie you come to know that for such a silent and deadly killer, John has a weird amount of people willing to die for him.

The High Table actively discourages and creates a continually hostile environment amongst assassins so that bonds and genuine alliances/friendships can't begin nor be maintained and yet... look how many people are willing to so far for John.

This speaks to the level of respect and integrity John must have to simultaneously be a deadly killer AND to not be hated by everyone.

He does his job well but he is not cruel. He will not endanger unrelated persons if he can help it, he is sincere and loyal.

It's why the High Table fuckin hates him.

[tomhockstetter7-111]

Highest Form of Empathy - Chapter 7

2k+ Words

Logan x empath!reader

It's a blessing and a curse, feeling other's pain. More so when you can take it away, albeit at the expense of your own peace. One-night stands were a usual for you. That's all this was supposed to be. But, seeing someone in so much pain, you couldn't leave him like that. You just couldn't. Besides, it's not like you'd ever see him again.....

Chapter CW: Drinking, Mentions of Drug/Alcohol Abuse

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mid-January, 2006

Westchester, New York

~~

"Oh my GOD!"

Enough is enough. You storm out of your room and make way for Logan's down the hall. It's been a week of this nightmare bullshit, and you've only had two actual nights of sleep, not in a row mind you. Not to mention that even when you do sleep, his emotions are strong enough to flood your dreams and, worse, exacerbate any nightmare you might be having yourself. 

Waking hours haven’t been that great either. Just yesterday there was a disaster simulation the group had scheduled in the Danger Room. You, being new, not to mention mildly injured, spent it more or less shadowing Storm. But, your performance went about as well as your fight with Logan the day before. Of course, it didn't help that he was in the room with you during the simulation, always close by and shooting you venomous looks. It pissed you off. He had clearly hurt you badly and didn't seem to give two shits about it. The least he could do was apologize, even shallowly.

But, it doesn’t matter now.

As you make your way down the hall, you're not quite sure what your plan is. But, you figure you'll decide once you get there. Work begins again tomorrow, and whatever happens tonight can't possibly be worse than not sleeping at all. And, by God, you're getting sleep tonight no matter the cost.

When you hear Scott calling your name from behind you, you don't stop until you reach Logan's door. 

"Stop!” He whisper yells. “You're gonna get hurt.” Damn him. He must've heard you get up. Or, maybe he was never asleep to begin with.

"Look!" you said pointing a finger in his face. "You all may be content to let him scream out his woes every goddamn night. But, I have arguably the hardest power to deal with here, and I can't do my fucking job if I don't sleep well. I can feel every little thing he does from down the hall behind my fucking door!" You point to your room. "So, I suggest you march your ass back to bed and let me handle this the way I know how."

Scott just stands there taken aback, and you wager a guess that you're the first person to be this forward with him in a while. "Just be careful, alright?" He warns with a level of worry you didn't expect from him. Perhaps he was there when that other person got hurt.

You sigh, exhausted. "If I get hurt, it's my fault. Just...let me deal with this." 

Begrudgingly, Scott stands back. But, you can tell he isn't walking away, though.

You roll your eyes. You turn around and slowly open the door before taking in the scene before you. Clothes and empty glass bottles, mostly whiskey, lie everywhere, and it smells heavily of alcohol, sweat, and cigars. An unconscious Logan lies in bed, occasionally thrashing his head about. You can't help but notice there's a pill bottle on his nightstand and you press your mouth into a thin line at the sight. 

You only make it a few steps inside before freezing. The shift in atmosphere is heavy, palpable. Logan's emotions, the terror and anxiety, are a tsunami of dense air. Suddenly, it's no wonder he's such a hard head, and you feel your frustration towards him dissipate, replaced with a faint worry.

You shut the door as quiet as you can, an easy feat given Logan's loud groaning, before creeping towards him, painfully aware of every little creak the floor makes under you. You freeze completely when a bottle you kick rolls under the bed. The echo of the glass rings in your ears, but, when your eyes flicker back to Logan, he remains undisturbed. The closer you get the worse the pain is, and you grit your teeth upon realizing your chest flaring up. You quietly gasp for air and bring your hands to your chest in an attempt to calm yourself. It's not yours. The dread, the devastation, it's not yours. You’re safe.

You’re inches away from his bed when an arm thrashes out to the side, causing you to stumble back before catching yourself on the bedside table. The orange bottle staggers, and you scramble to catch it before it hits the ground. You can barely read the label in the dim moonlight, but your eyes adjust just enough to see "Nembutal" typed in large letters. Holy shit...

Logan lets out another grumble. He seems to be saying a name. Layla? Ella? You hear him loud and clear when he cries out, "Wait. Victor, no!"

Hardening your resolve, you return the bottle to its spot on the table and take a deep breath as you crouch down by his head. Gently, you place a hand on his upper arm. He groans a little but barely stirs. You steady yourself in preparation for what's to come, vaguely remembering how utterly incapacitated you were last time. But, you still slept fine that night. You still worked fine. You'll be fine this time, too. You have to be.

Focusing your energy, you make sure to conjure up visions of your father, some of the only pleasant images in life that you have left. They flood your memory. You see his face brighten after you shoot your first deer, feel his arms around you after breaking your leg from a tree fall, him laughing at your mother when she took a wrong turn to Vancouver...the week before the crash. You smile at the memories, still so vivid in your mind. The one from the boat with the orcas stands out the most, warming your chest as a faint smile manifests on your face.

You let out one more deep breath as you begin. Logan's yells slowly turn into groans. Groans turn to heavy breathing. Heavy breathing turns to silence, and a sense of quiet finally falls over him. It’s empty.

You collapse, falling back on your knees and hands dropping to your sides. You feel lightheaded, almost like little bees prick your brain, and your throat begins to close.

Meanwhile, Logan's face stares back at you. Beads of sweat still linger on his forehead, but a sense of ease rests over his features, now, a stark contrast from before. Nothing emits off him now. He must not be dreaming.

Lacking the strength to stand, you opt to push your back up against Logan's nightstand and bring your legs to your chest. You cover your ears with your hands and shove your face into your knees as the tears fall.

It feels like hours before Scott creaks the door open. You can faintly make out a voice whispering over your quiet heaving as you try to steady yourself, but it's hard to ignore the unplaced dread hanging over you like a lead weight on your body. A hand on your arm makes you flinch as you look up to find Scott’s face, your reflection dark in the red glow of his sunglasses.

He motions towards the door with his head, and you nod weakly. He grabs your arms and pulls you to your feet with little effort. You can't help but cling to his shirt, desperate for some sense of security, even if it is from Lord of Dicks himself. He helps you out of Logan's room and into the hall, making sure to close the door behind him.

The trek back to your room is long. The hallway stretches forever, and you struggle not to drag your feet as you go. You try to breathe slowly, to stop the tears from coming again, but your body does everything to disobey you.

Scott opens your door and guides you to your bed, releasing his arm from your waist. Quietly, you sit down on the edge and stare at the floor.

"You think you'll be ok?" He kneels by you and seems to be checking your face. It's still wet, of course. You're sure the thousand-yard stare isn't lost on him either.

"How does he get up in the morning?"

Your question gives him a moment of pause. You don't look up to meet his face. Finally he lets out a tired sigh. "Logan's seen a lot."

You scoffed. "I've been in therapy work for almost five years, Scott. I've never seen anything like that. What could a thirty-something year old man have experienced to cause...." Cause what, exactly? Shit, where do you start? Do you start with the horrendous amount of fear? Or, the way he acts as if everyone’s out to get him? Or, maybe the fact that the world seems to be ending and everything is meaningless every time you looked into his mind?

Scott sits, looking around your room before responding again. "He's been alive a long time." 

You don't like the answer.

Upon realizing he won't be getting a reply from you, he stands. "Get some rest, ok?"

“Yeah.”

Scott slowly backs away before walking out of your room, leaving the door open a crack. You don't bother trying to close it, opting instead to fall back into bed with a thud.

You stare at the ceiling, waiting for the emotions to cease. They never do. You should've known better. Your brain usually returns to baseline within a few hours, a day at most. But, it didn't last time when you absorbed what was maybe half this much. What possessed you to think you could sleep after all this? Still, you find it strange. Whatever he's going through, it's heavier than anything you've encountered before. 

You pray to whoever is listening that the cool down will start soon. Until then, you stare at the ceiling and just lay there, eyes closed, in your newfound, untethered sorrow.

You don't notice the sun climbing into the sky. You don't notice until your alarm goes off at 7:00.

~~

The set of footsteps stomping snaps you from your daze. You turn your head to see Logan walking through the kitchen threshold. Sighing, you turn your attention back to the cereal in front of you. The sound of the fridge door opening is a distant echo in your brain. You're on the verge of zoning out again when you see an unlabeled bottle and a bottle opener being pushed towards your periphery.

You knit your brows in confusion. "Bit early to be drinking, isn't it?"

"You want it or not?" His voice portrays irritation, but you can tell he's not that annoyed.

Giving him a once over before looking to the bottle again, you puff a sigh through your nose before taking it. If this was his way of extending an olive branch, even a small one, you might as well try, too. You sit in silence and watch him grab another bottle from the fridge door, puncturing the cap with one of his claws, the sight of which makes you flinch. 

Your blink away the sight when your eyes are drawn to the layers of masking tape on the shelf reading DONT TOUCH in crudely drawn black letters; something that hadn’t escaped your notice in the past week. How Charles let him keep beer in the fridge despite the fact the students used it, too, is beyond you. Maybe they knew better than to touch it? Hell, Logan probably counted them every day.

"I've been wondering who's these were," you say as you spin the bottle in your hand, casually inspecting the engravings of the glass.

"Guilty," he shrugs before taking a sip.

"And, you gave me one?"

"Takes the edge off."

Your face goes red as he echoes back your words from that night. Pressing your mouth into a thin line, you busy yourself with popping off the cap. It's just one drink. Maybe it's not a coffee morning, anyway. You can't help but revel in the short, satisfying hiss the bottle makes as it opens.

"Have you considered just relying on medication? Instead of mixing it with drinks, I mean. Could be dangerous." The words pop out of your mouth before you fully process them. In your groggy state, you clearly didn't consider that he had no idea you had been in his room, and, therefore, seen the bottle on the nightstand. Not until he stops mid-sip, and your body stiffens at the slip up.

"What makes you think I'm on meds?"

"Charles and I talk." You say too quickly, and you thank God he can't read your mind. "It's not an attempt to pry. He's just worried about you."

He smirks at your frantic body language. "He doesn't need to be." He goes to sit in the barstool across from yours. 

Another painful, awkward silence passes, and the clink of the bottle as you set it on the counter is uncomfortably loud.

"Were you..." He starts.

You look up at him through your lashes, avoiding his eyes.

"Were you ok after Friday?" The question catches you by surprise. "Meant to ask before but..." He trails off. There's a hint of embarrassment in his head and your gaze flickers to his face. You see he's avoiding your eyes, too.

"Yeah," you reassure him. "I healed fast."

He raises an eyebrow at you.

"Maybe not as fast as you, but I'm doing better."

"I see." He nods in understanding. "Maybe I gave you more than you deserved."

You snicker. "What? You don't try to give all your opponents head trauma?" 

"Not usually." He snorts, but the shame becomes all the more potent at your teasing. Serves him right, really. "But...I wasn't going to hurt you. The claws, I mean. Just wanted to scare ya a little."

"Mission fucking accomplished. But, I'm fine. Really," you reassure him again when he begins shifting in his seat. Maybe you could hold off on the critiques, too. 

Something in his gaze softens when you finally look him in the eye. A beam of sunlight peers from behind a cloud outside the window and hits his face. It's then you notice those deep brown eyes you saw in the bar have a light brown, almost green, tint to them. They remind you almost of spring with the mix in shades, and you feel a burst of a magnetic pull towards him when you notice.

"Uh..." you scramble to empty your mind. "Do you style your hair like that on purpose?"

He gives a confused look, raising his eyebrow. "Like what?"

"Like a cat. The spikes on your head. They look like cat ears." You laugh when his mouth drops open in mock horror. You know you probably shouldn't poke at him for that, but they’re too cute not to.

"They do not!"

"Yes they do! I mean, I guess they complement your claws just fine."

"Give me that beer back." He swipes at the bottle before you, but you grab it just in time and hide it under the counter.

"Uh-uh! This was a gift." You give him a cheeky, prideful smile and he rolls his eyes at you.

"Yeah, whatever."

You watch in amusement as he takes another sip of his bottle.

[kykyonthemoon]

7 Days the mini-series

About this series: ✈️

Day 07: A Lifetime

The warm sunlight painted the attic a pale yellow, covering the shelves adorned with old framed photographs and trinkets that held endless memories. I stepped inside. I walked in. My legs were no longer nimble, but I could still climb up to the attic by myself like every day.

That place was still his favorite corner.

The attic, the garden, the whole house were the presents he gave me when we got married. It was built on the foundation of our former house, which had exploded years ago. Although the rooms and arrangement had changed slightly, only this attic remained unchanged.

I dropped myself onto the sofa where he was sitting, flipping through memories in every timeless thing; paper planes, letters, the apple hair clip he gave me, and so on. I leaned down to pick up his old dress cap as it rolled to the ground, brushed it off a few times, and placed it on my head.

As if it was just yesterday when I was standing with him at the graduation ceremony of the aerospace academy.

"You know the tradition," he grinned, and I softly kissed the wrinkles on his face. At that moment, I felt like we traveled back in the midst of applause, in the rain of dress caps and confetti. The young me and him appeared, as if time had frozen at the exact moment I brought him closer to kiss him on the cheek. 

There were countless moments like that in this attic, in this place. They became less vivid with time, and I had forgotten some of the details. But the images of me and him still existed here. Sometimes, when I thought of the past, they would flash before my eyes like slow-motion movies that I always cherished.

It was the little version of me holding his hand for the first time. It was how we took care of each other when we were sick. It was the naps and meals with him. It was the laughter and the tears. It was when I thought I had lost him forever just to reunite with him once more. The first time we went on a date. Our first kiss. The fights and then the reconciliation. The trips we took. The day he got down on one knee. The first cries of each child that was formed from our love. Every moment in our children's lives, when they took off to build their own new nests... All the memories were kept somewhere in the corner of this place, intact, even when I could not remember them clearly anymore.

He and I started our journey together here, and in the end, we came back to the very place.

“Have the kids gone home?” He asked. He wasn’t feeling well these days, but he still kept the habit of going up to the attic every day.

“Yes, they've left.”

Occasionally, our children, grandchildren, and even great-grandchildren would come to see us in our modest abode. After a long day, it was only him and me, sitting peacefully next to each other.

“Now it’s just the two of us.” He smiled, then held my hand.

It was the same in the past. I enjoyed sitting with him here and watching the sunset through the window. The golden tint colored my entire universe, dyed his youthful figure, his purple eyes too… The scenes were weaved into every nook of this area. When I called, they would come back to me.

I lost track of time for how long we sat there reminiscing. Our lifetime was wrapped up within this tiny attic. He and I had been together for a lifetime. I felt his weight when Caleb leaned his head on my shoulder. When I was little, I would rest my head on his shoulder and fall asleep without realizing it, in every caress he  gave. Now it was my turn to kiss his forehead.

“Rest now, the love of my life.”

The sun was setting on the other side of the window. The day was ending, as our journey in this life had come to an end.

My hand was securely locked with his. Even our wrinkles matched perfectly, as if we were meant to spend this lifetime together.

He never awoke again. The person I loved the most in this world had passed away on such a serene afternoon, much like the day he stepped into my life. Yet, far away on the horizon, I caught a glimpse of two little figures walking side by side.

“Caleb! Wait for me!”

My tiny feet failed to catch up with him on the long road. Yet he would stop and extend his hand to me, saying:

“Pip-squeak, come to me!”

I always ran towards him, with a bright smile on my lips. Our hands would constantly be safely embracing each other, as we moved towards the warm sunlight. Towards home.

“Wait for me. I will find you in our next life.”

-The End-

Only for Caleb - Xia Yizhou.

Thank you for coming home.

[hungermakesmonsters]

✨✨Congrats on 500 followers!!! ✨✨

I know you only just finished red ribbon but my request is that I would love to know if bunny goes back to working for Billy and if she does is he be able to keep his hands to himself or would he cause problems?? 😂

😅😅😅OF COURSE BILLY WOULD CAUSE PROBLEMS AND NOT KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF!! no but seriously, I actually really wanted to put a scene like this in The Red Ribbon because (as far as I've planned for a second series) she does go back to work for Billy. So, I really enjoyed writing this silly little thing, I hope you enjoy reading it!!

Better At You

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Fic Universe : The Red Ribbon

Story Rating : R 

Warnings : [This is 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour.  

He sat hunched over his desk, elbows braced on the wooden surface, thumb and forefinger pinching the bridge of his nose. You’d heard more than enough through the door to know that his meeting with his business partner Frank had not gone well. So, once Frank had made his exit, you had decided to go check on Billy.

“Are you okay?” You asked as you rounded his desk and perched on the edge of it beside him.

“Fine,” he grumbled, not even bothering to look up at you.

For a few seconds you hesitated, carefully considering your next move. You’d both agreed that work needed to be separate, that you needed to remain professional but, after two weeks, you were already starting to struggle.

“No you’re not,” you said, finally reaching a decision. “You barely slept last night, you skipped breakfast, and all you’ve had since getting to the office is a coffee.”

As you spoke, you dared to place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the uncomfortable tension that filled his body.

“You’re supposed to be my PA, not my mother,” he snapped, pulling away from your hand.

It was the first time he’d snapped at you in weeks, the first time since you’d started your relationship. And, for a moment you were frozen, shocked by his little outburst. Then you shook your head and stood - he’d agreed that he wouldn’t snap anymore, that he’d never take his shitty mood out on you at work.

A second later, he realised what he’d done and, before you could walk away, his hand was on your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

“Bunny, I’m - I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “You’re right, I didn’t sleep and I feel like shit, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“You promised me that -”

“I know. I know I did,” he sighed. “I’m trying, it’s just... Frank says we’re gonna have to get the Feds and maybe Homeland involved to find out just how deep this thing with Rawlin’s goes, and -”

“That’s no reason to snap at me.”

“I know. Fuck - I know. I’m sorry, Bunny.”

You knew that he meant it, that he really was sorry, and that was enough. At least, for now. 

Stepping closer, you reached for him, your hand cupping his cheek tenderly. Despite your agreements to keep things professional, you couldn’t help but want to comfort him. He finally relaxed a little at your touch, and that made you feel a little better.

“I don’t suppose I could talk you into cancelling the rest of your meetings, leaving early and going home to get some sleep?” You asked, your voice turning low, worried that someone might overhear you even though you knew there was no one else on the floor.

“Depends, are you offering to come home with me?” He asked just as softly.

“I have all that paperwork to finish filing, remember? Besides, if I go home with you, the last thing you’re gonna do is sleep.”

His hand on your wrist gave a gentle tug, pulling you closer, until you were standing between his legs. Then both of his hands found their way to your hips.

“We agreed we weren’t going to do this at the office,” you said, reminding him of your agreement while simultaneously completely ignoring it by letting your fingers slip into his hair.

Billy’s eyes closed and he let out a sigh, leaning into your touch.

As much as you believed it was a bad idea to let your personal lives and feelings bleed into work, seeing him like that, finally able to relax a little, left you with no doubt in your mind; he needed you.

He pulled you closer and, before you could stop to think about it, you were kissing him. A switch flipped inside you when he let out that first little groan against your lips, and it stopped being about what you shouldn’t do and became more about what he obviously needed

When the kiss broke, you slowly dropped to your knees in front of him, all the while holding his gaze.

“Bunny...” there was a warning in his tone, but something else too. Pleading.

“We’ll be quick,” you told him as you tugged open his belt and started on the fastenings of his pants. “Besides, your next meeting isn’t for twenty minutes.”

Whatever Billy wanted to say died on his lips the moment you reached into his boxers and pulled out his cock. You watched as he licked his lips and sank back in his chair, putting himself completely in your hands, both literally and figuratively. 

You started slowly, stroking his cock and watching as it got harder, revelling in the way that Billy’s breath caught. You’d never known a man so needy, a man who craved your every touch as if he’d never been touched before. Honestly, you weren’t sure if it was you or if Billy had always been that way, but you liked to think it was all for you.

His cock throbbed in time with his heartbeat, the tip quickly starting to leak. And the sounds - god, the sounds spilling from him made you feel like the most powerful person in the world.

“Fuck,” he groaned at the feeling of your lips wrapping around him.

You almost smiled as you sank lower, taking more of him into your mouth, keeping your fist wrapped around the base of his cock, stroking what you couldn’t take.

You started slowly, toying with him, dragging your lips up and down his shaft, tracing patterns on his skin with your tongue until you felt his fingers tangling in your hair.

“Bunny,” he muttered, voice little more than a low growl.

Despite his grip on you, Billy knew better than to apply pressure. As desperate as he might have felt, he knew that you were in complete control, and he knew just how much that control meant to you.

Glancing up, you met his gaze and still for a moment, the tip of his cock in your mouth while your hand continued to stroke him.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned. “So fucking beautiful, Bunny,”

More little affirmations started to fall from him as your lips started to move again, this time bobbing your head faster and with more purpose, knowing that you’d finally gotten him to relax. 

And that felt good. No, it felt amazing.

You’d realised pretty quicking that it was what Billy needed in his life, it was what you wanted to give him. He saw you as a person, cared about you and cherished your time together, and you - you wanted to give him the happiness and stability that he craved. Maybe eventually there would be more, maybe in time the feeling in the pit of your stomach would even  become love. But, for now, this was enough.

“Bunny,” he gasped, his fingers tightening in your hair - not a lot, but enough to let you know he was getting close.

You didn’t stop. Instead you doubled down, working your lips faster on his cock, gripping him a little tighter with your hand. 

Again you looked up at him, catching the look of sheer pleasure and desperation on his face.

“Bun -” 

He grunted as he started to come undone in your mouth, and you held him there, still stroking him until he was completely spent.

When you finally pulled back and looked up at him, you couldn’t help but grin; his eyes were closed and tension and worry had left his face. If you didn’t know him better, you might have said it looked like he’d just been through a life-changing experience. 

His fingers slipped from your hair and back to your cheek again as he finally opened his eyes and looked at you.

“So much for not doing that at the office,” he said playfully, tucking himself back into his pants.

“It was an emergency,” you shrugged. “I couldn’t have you turning into a cranky asshole and taking it out on everyone.”

“Oh, so that was a public service blowjob?” Billy asked, grinning like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Exactly. In fact, you could even say I’m a superhero.”

“That’s quite a superpower you’ve got - though, I don’t think they’ll be asking you to join the Avengers anytime soon.”

“Their loss, I’m actually also really good at -”

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Billy glancing towards his office door, his eyes going wide. You couldn’t see who it was until you scrambled off your knees and stood again, quickly brushing your skirt down.

Frank Castle, Billy’s business partner, had come back.

Your cheeks warmed quickly, leaving you feeling like you were about to spontaneously combust.

“I, uh -” you tried to think, tried to come up with something to say, “- I’ll see if I can find something to stop your chair from squeaking, Mr Russo.”

And, with that, you quickly rushed out of the office, trying very hard not to make eye contact with either man on your way out.

[jimmy-johns-was-taken]

Hihi!! Do you think you could maybe do father figure tim wright reacting to his kid (reader) sneaking out? :> Thank u! ^^

MORE ANGST??? MORE DAD ANGST???

cooking up something devious rn >:)

Idk what to Title this :)

Walking alongside the beat up pavement, you slowly dragged yourself toward the inevitable. Tim had texted you a few hours ago, asking where you had been. After you saw the notification on your Lock Screen, you knew that you were done for.

It had been a quiet evening in the small cabin. Toby and Brian were out and about, some random last minute mission. Kate was currently away at another mission, while Cody had locked himself away to work on a science project. You, bored out of your skull, had only been mindlessly scrolling through social media when you decided to leave.

Thinking a little, you knew that Tim wouldn’t want you leaving this late (unless it would have been work related). So, you took to being a normal and reckless teen, opening your window and jumping down, running off into the woods.

That was three hours ago.

You had been laying on a rock, looking up at the star, mapping out the galaxy in your mind. The constellations captivated your mind, allowing their stories to play out in dramatic scenes. You smiled, taking notice of the brightly lit North Star, remembering how it had saved you on many occasions.

A loud ‘buzz’ had knocked you out of your daze, glancing down at the phone to see a message from Tim. Without even reading it, you knew you were screwed. Something just screamed at you, telling you that he knew you had snuck out and would be in loads of trouble.

Picking up the device, you unlocked it and looked at the message. ‘Get home. Now.’ It was simple and too the point. Letting out a sigh, you took one look back up at the stars before making your way back to the cabin.

That brings us to the present, standing in front of the dimly lit run down cabin. From the outside, it didn’t even look inhabitable. Walking up the stairs, each one creaking under your weight, you grabbing your key. Unlocking the door and turning the knob, you took a few breathes, trying to mentally prepare yourself for the lecture.

Pushing open the heavy door, you could see Tim sitting out the kitchen island, his face hidden in shadows. You swiftly entered and shut the door behind, locking it and straightening your posture.

“Uhh…hey,” you murmured. Was he angry? Upset? Worried? The shadows cast down on Tim made it impossible to even see his face.

“Where’d you go?” The southern drawl to his voice ever apparent as you shuddered. He was so serious!

“Just for a walk,” I responded, slinking up to the island and grabbing a glass out of the cupboard. “Wanted to get out, clear my head,” you stated as you filled the cup with water.

“Listen, I’m not going to lecture you,” your eyes widened slightly at his response, “but please, you have got to tell someone when you leave.”

“Huh?” You tilted your head to the side, earning a sigh from him. He rubbed his hands over his face, massaging the area around his eyes.

“Just…tell someone where you’re going, ok? I understand that you…you aren’t a little kid anyone,” the words were quiet and soft, uncharacteristic from the normal gruff tone.

“Yeah, I’m basically an adult,” you giggled, walking over and resting on the counter.

“Not to me, to me…you’re a kid,” Tim looked up at you, a tired look in his eyes. “I can’t control you, what you do, say, think. You’re getting older, and I have to accept that,” he sounded almost heartbroken. A soft smile made its way to your face as you looked at Tim, seeing his glaze casted downward.

“You’re a kid to me, always will be,” he said, referring to how young you were when you first met. You really weren’t that young, only 14. But that had been so long ago, it felt like a lifetime.

“I might not always be your little girl who you get to show how to use a gun,” you smiled, looking at the water in your glass, “but, I’ll always be your kid. Blood or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Tim laughed, rolling his eyes at you. He didn’t want to get rid of you, and he’d kill anyone who tried to take you from the little family in the woods.

[my-cat-ate-your-appendix]

A few theories floating around in my head that aren't based on anything, just me wildly speculating possibilities (and when I saw wild, I really mean it):

1) That book and that key

As was pointed out by user goodbye432, we can see that Violet's key comes out of the book, but this key still remains.

I feel like this could be a gateway key that helps all the keys find each other? Or it could be the book that acts as a gateway. Or maybe both of them as a combination act as a gateway?

Point is, that key definitely isn't a key that gathers narratonin

It doesn't have the narratonin compartment that all the other keys have

The whole structure is different, actually.

So it's probably not a key that was in the original story-key roster. Maybe it was created after the other keys to help them find each other better? Maybe Nox himself created this key while he was still a human? Maybe Nox created this key after he became a key? Maybe Nox didn't have anything to do with it at all? Maybe it was accidentally made by a cat named Prunella?

Personally, I don't think that key is sentient (like, I don't think it has a tiny goober form like the other keys), either, but that really has no basis at all. It very well could.

2) Are the stories themselves sentient?

The story just wants to be enjoyed, the story just wants to be finished, the story doesn't want to be destroyed. The story's sounding an awful lot like a sentient creature right now.

We know that the keys don't decide anything about the story, and nor do the holders of the keys. So who decides when the story ends? Who decides the amount of enjoyment (and therefore the amount of narratonin) received from the story? My bet's on the story itself.

I don't think this is going to have much relevance in the actual plot, but it was just interesting to think about.

3) Silver is in on it

Silver knows something. This has such major foreshadowing with this particular panel:

and then the scene immediately cuts to Silver

Suspicious. Also, so far, Silver's key is the only key that was left around with a note. Bronze and Goldie were literally on sale in a flea market. Silver's key, on the other hand, was left in the library, very clearly intentionally. It was meant to be found, just not by Chase.

And why was Silver broken? What happened? Did she just like, fall? I don't think so.

This is not necessarily a bad thing, since we all know that Silver adores Chase as well as her family and would never agree to endanger them again. Maybe she escaped and was supposed to help the other keys escape too? Maybe she was supposed to help Nox escape? Maybe she did help some of the keys escape, but not the others? Maybe she's part of the FBI? Who knows? Not me, that's who.

4) What's up with Ex Libris anyway?

So far, we've been hearing of Ex Libris as this kind of Big Bad Organisation, but we've never actually seen them make a move? I think it's clear now that Nox wasn't working for the Ex Libris, but rather for his own motives, so it isn't as if the Ex Libris sent him either.

So does the Ex Libris just like, not know that half of it's keys are missing and another key is trying to turn human? Or does it know and is deciding to not do anything about it?

Or does it know and can't do anything about it? What if the Ex Libris has been disbanded, and the keys just don't know about it? That's not quite feasible, I know, considering that Violet and Buddy are probably in the Ex Libris facility right now but that's just our assumption, y'know? They might be in hiding. I'm pretty sure Ex Libris wouldn't want Buddy turning back into a human, so they're definitely going behind Ex Libris' back to do what they're doing, so why can't they be in hiding? Why can't they be totally unaware of what's going on in Ex Libris?

Or maybe the Ex Libris isn't evil at all? They seem more like a bunch of sleep-deprived scientists making one mad discovery after another. If I'm right about the artificial key Buddy theory (see this post) then I admit that would make them more evil, but maybe they're aware of that. Maybe they know that what they did was wrong, and regret it. Maybe all the unethical experimentation was done by a far, far older batch of the Ex Libris, and the new generation of the Ex Libris is strictly vegan and on the keys' side. Maybe they're choosing to help by ignoring. Maybe there's a helper on the inside. Maybe it's Chase's dance partner who never shows up to practices.

Maybe he never shows up to practices because he's too busy trying to save the keys from the Ex Libris. Poor guy.

5) Chase's friends

Yeah, they're definitely not just there to show us that hey! Chase actually has friends his own age! It just doesn't line up.

Maybe one of them's going to coincidentally show up in the same book as Chase and Nox some other time, and Nox is just going to stare at Chase and Chase will be like "Dude I swear I had absolutely no idea this time."

I just think that would be funny.

That's all I can think of right now. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk, I'll be disappearing off of the face of Earth now.

(On a totally unrelated note, a few months ago, my school counsellor told me I should test for ADHD)

[peachidin]

We could be together, if you wanted to

A Jedi. A Mandalorian. A choice.

din djarin x f!reader

Rated M - 6.2k

Tags: Jedi!Reader, alluded past attempted SA , eventual smut, inappropriate use of the force, unprotected PIV, fingering, yearning Din, like really pining, very noncanon timeline, no beta read we go down with this ship

Divider by @/saradika

My first time writing a longer story, sorry if the POV switches are confusing, but I hope you enjoy it!

It wasn't supposed to have been like this. You groan as the cantina music pounds ruthlessly against your skull, the hot air sticking to your skin like a second layer. Your arm moves across the table, fumbling for who knows what against the scattered bottles of alcohol you threw back only hours ago. 

Hours? 

It was a pitying scene, your Jedi robes removed and scattered on the ground, leaving you in only a thin long sleeve and pants. Your lightsaber, the thing you worked so hard for, forgotten somewhere on a betting table. This was your reality now.

A fallen Jedi they called you.

Another groaned turned sob escapes your lips, your hands shakily rising to cover your face as if you could simply hide away from this life. Lost in your wallowing, you almost didn't hear the cantina bands music dull down to a few notes. The subtle stall of conversation in the cantina. The icy feeling of being watched from somewhere, or, everywhere at once. The force, plucking gently at your instincts through the layers of grief and drinks.

Run.

Your body moves on instinct, throwing up the large wooden table as a gloved hand reaches for you. Your feet sludge through your clothes and you let out a curse, your gaze swaying as you try to steady yourself. A flash of metal, and you move once more, the other cantina patrons shoving past you to escape out the few available exits. Your head whips around, trying to catch a glance of your assailant, but somehow they melt into the darkened corners surrounding you. Your eyes flutter shut, reaching out to that warm feeling surrounding you, that gentle pull that's been with you all your life. The Force thrums to life, spiking with intensity behind you within seconds. You gasp, flipping around just in time to face him.

He was huge, his frame surrounding all points of your vision as he stalks towards you. The beskar armor reflects the few light sources above, making him practically invisible. You move towards your belt but your hand is only met with open air. Your curse as your eyes see your lightsaber only a few tables away, gleaming in the dark. 

“I don't want any trouble,” you manage to say, your voice rough and scratchy from the hours of wailing your heart out before. He stands only a few inches in front of you, causing you to tilt your head fully back to look at the small visor on his helmet. He tilts his head as if he were actually regarding your plea. You should have known better.

His hand quickly grabs for your arm and waist, practically holding you to the spot with minimal struggle. You hear the clink of bracers from his belt as his other hand smoothly brings them towards you. You struggle in his grip trying to push away from him. Even the Force seemed to slip away from you causing a bitter laugh to rise in your throat.

“I don't regret it, making him hurt.” You whisper, the thought leaving your lips before you could catch it. It was an admission of what you did and yet the Mandalorian paused.. Your heart continued to pound in your chest as you waited for him to continue with his mission, to feel those cold pieces of armor clamp around your wrists. Your eyes glance to his hand still frozen at his side and your ears could pick up the soft squeak of leather from his grip as he tightens his hold on you and the metal cuffs. Your gasp draws his attention back to you as he lowers his hand on your waist, letting it fall to his side. 

“Was told a Jedi went rogue, attacked a Senator in his home.” His modulated voice was softer than you would have imagined, and you blink up at him as you register his words. You nod, your throat drying as the events flood back to your mind. 

“The Senator has been known to disregard the protection of male Jedis. I was sent instead, exactly as he requested.” You state, the practiced cool of your voice barely wavering as you take in another breath. 

“I merely protected the other Jedi they would have sent after me. He needed to understand that that would never happen to anyone again.” His screams still lingered in your ears; his petrified face locked onto yours as you unsheathed your lightsaber. It wasn't a killing blow, but it left a big enough scar so that he would never forget who gave it to him. The Mandalorian seemed to nod, and you glanced around nervously as the last remnant of alcohol burned from your system. 

“So, are you taking me back?” You whisper softly, trying to peer into the darkened T of the helmet and imagine just who was underneath. His hands move quickly and your body jerks back in surprise. His movement halts to a complete stop, before continuing slowly, placing the cuffs back onto his belt. 

“I am meant to complete my mission.”

Your stomach drops at his words, yet you nod firmly, accepting what was to wait for you back with the senate. They already claimed you betrayed the Jedi order, they already set a bounty on you. A once honorable Jedi knight now turned enemy.

“But the bounty escaped.”

Your eyes jerk back up to his, your breath hitching in your throat as you take in his words. The Mandalorian turns silently, moving to one of the nearby exits. He turns back to look at you, tilting his head as a sign to follow. You scrabble to gather your discarded clothes in the wreckage of the bar as you shuffle to follow him out. Your eyes land on that piece of metal that seemed to call out to you, pleading for you to bring it along. What was a Jedi without their lightsaber? You sniffle as you trace a loving finger over the hilt you had grown up with. The cantina wasn't a complete mess, but enough debris remained that you could spot a broken slat of wooden floor near the table you had thrown. Deep enough to hide something and inconspicuous enough to not be examined in detail. Carefully, you place the saber into the hole, sliding it until it was out of view and lost somewhere under the wooden flooring. The roar of a ship interrupted your thoughts, reminding you that he was waiting, and you were to join him.

That was months ago. Now, you sit lazily in the copilot chair on the razor crest, watching the coordinates Mando punched in with ease. 

“Ti’yar again? Really?” You ask excitedly, turning to face the bounty hunter. He just nods, placing the ship into autopilot for the foreseeable future.

“A lead recommended Ti’yar for information on a bounty.” Is all he says, standing up to make his way back to the shared living space outside of the cockpit. You watch him leave with a fond smile. It took some time before you grew accustomed to his curt words but now you found yourself understanding the Mandalorian better. He was kind, in his own way. Most people projected their kindness with loud actions, but Mando preferred his to go unnoticed if he couldn't help it. It started back when you first boarded the ship. How he scavenged up some clothes for you to change into. Or how he made a small storage room into your own personal space. When you tried to thank him he simply waved you off.

“It's nothing. Besides, you have your own work cut out for you.”

He wasn't wrong. You began helping him locate his bounties as a way to “pay” him back. The Force didn't leave you as you once thought it would, instead, it moved differently than you were used to. Your relationship worked and you wouldn't trade it for anything. 

But that's all it was. Business.

Sometimes you wondered if it could be more. 

You follow him deeper into the ship as excitement pours out of you. Ti’yar was a coastal city nestled in thick green forests. The first time you visited you wondered if the place was even real. With delicious food and festivals, you made it known this was your favorite stop on your journey so far. A part of you wondered about his reason for the sudden voyage. 

‘The bounty doesn't have any known ties to Ti’yar, so why stop..’ 

Your feet continued to propel you forward as you tried to understand, causing you to smack into the solid back of the bounty hunter. Mando quickly turns around as his hands gently land on your shoulders to steady you. 

“You ‘kay?” He grumbles, his hands quickly retreating to his sides so quick you almost missed that subtle flex of his leather clad hands after they touched you. 

“Mhhm.” You couldn't help the smile spreading across your face at his gentle actions. 

“Be ready in three hours.” Is all he says before turning back around and heading to his room farther down the hall. The feeling of his hands still warmed your shoulders, and you couldn't help gently running your hand along the spots he had touched, as if you could feel some sort of remnant of him there. 

The Jedi code didn't care when it came to physical relationships.

The Jedi code warned against attachments. 

Attachments led to fear and jealousy.

You were no longer Jedi.

The thought still churned your stomach, but the concept of freedom melted across your tongue like honey. You had choices now. This was something that could be yours, by your decision. Your mind began to form an idea. One that made your heart race with desire. Did you even know what desire was? Passion? You wondered how it would feel to choose someone for more than just the reason of being there. Would he even want that?

Three hours didn't seem long enough to quell your hurricane of a mind before the ship began its descent, your future only a few hundred feet below you.

The Mandalorian emerged from his room, moving back to the cockpit to steady the Razor Crests landing. He found himself looking for you. His gaze automatically sweeping the ship before they landed on you, your body tucked carefully into the copilot chair. You were wearing a flowing tunic, the material so thin and light he imagined he could tear it with a touch. You turned, wearing that maker damned smile you always wore when you looked at him. The smile that made his chest clench with some unknown feeling. 

“Ready to catch a bounty?” You grinned as he sat himself into his seat, fighting the urge to adjust his body under your stare. 

“Just information.” He reminded you, his voice stuck in his throat for whatever reason. He could tell from the heat of your gaze you wanted to say more to him and he thanked the maker the ship began its landing protocol before you could. Something felt different. The air felt heated more than it ever had. He always made sure you were comfortable. He kept his touches gentle and when he was capable, always with warning. That day still haunted him. Receiving the bounty for some Jedi the Senate proclaimed as dangerous, only to find you alone in some dingy bar crying by yourself. He had moved without thought as he approached you. His hand reaching out for what? He barely had time to react as you flipped that table. In any other case he would have been proud and when you told him what you did to that Senator, he knew he wasn't turning you in. 

You were the most fierce and beautiful thing he had ever seen. 

You didn't need him to protect you but he would be damned if he didnt keep you as safe as he could. 

“Mando? Mando-”

He was torn from his thoughts as he glanced back at you. Your eyes, so wide and trusting. His hand tightened into a fist as he stood up and moved towards the docking bay of the ship. Your footsteps chased after him quickly as he exited the ship and stepped onto the soft ground of Ti’yar. 

“You are ignoring me!” You huff as you finally make it back to his side and he only felt a small twinge of displeasure at making you feel ignored. 

“We have things to do.” Is all he says when really, that's all he can manage. He can feel your shock and frustration as he begins to walk the trail leading down into the town.

“Mando!” You call after him and he swears just one order from you would bring him to his knees.

Then you speak.

His body stops. His heart pounds in his chest. He turns towards you slowly to keep his instincts at bay.

“What did you say?” The gravelly tone of his voice seems to surprise you. You let out a groan as you cross your arms over your chest.

“If you tried to catch me like a bounty, how long would it take you?” The words leave your voice with a false air of confidence despite the slight shake in your body. You move down the trail carefully while keeping your eyes locked onto where you imagined his were staring right back at you. 

“I've always wondered since that day, if you had seriously tried to catch me, and I tried to run, how long would it take you to get me?” You say again. Despite his face being hidden you could feel the air begin to change with sharp spikes of electricity. The Force, tugging at your heels.

Run.

Run.

Run.

“If I wanted to catch you, it wouldn't take long at all.” The Mandalorians' voice rasped out and hearing it sent a thrill down your spine.

“I’m a little hurt you think so little of me-”

“I could never think little of you.”

His interruption caused your eyes to widen as you stared at one another. That unknown heat began to rise in your body, demanding to be felt for once in your life. This was it. Your decision. Your desire.

“I want to try then.”

He waited for you to explain.

“I want to run from you, and I want you to chase me. Or at least, I want you to want to chase me." You couldn't stop the words from pouring out of your mouth. "I want to make this choice, and I want you to have one as well." Those inner dreams and desires finally see the light of day in your new life. The silence rings loudly in your ears as you wait for him to do anything. You begin to feel the panic rise in your chest. “You can choose to follow me or not, Mando, but I am going, and if I have to prove to you I am serious about this I will-" Your words cause him to step towards you once more.

‘Oh maker, I’ve messed this all up,this is too much for him, I’m too much-’

“I’ll give you thirty minutes to get to town.” His modulated voice cuts through the air, sending chills down your spine. Mando huffs and adjusts his stance before you, "And I know you're serious about this, it's just-" You can hear him sigh as he shakes his head, opening his bracer to set a time limit before snapping it back shut. “We will use these comms to communicate when needed.” He moves forward once more, placing a small comms link into your hand.

“Once I am hunting you, I won't stop, and once I catch you, you will have another choice to make." He says simply, his hand lingering over yours. You stare up at him, the beating of your heart filling the air. "Once I catch you, I'll let you go, if that's what you want. You can keep running." 

Your face is so flushed and beautiful he has to fight the urge to groan at the sight.

 "And if I decide to not run?" You ask softly, looking up to his masked face.

The Mandalorian takes another breath, finally pulling his hand back. "If you decide to stay, you're mine." 

There it was, his choice, the desire for you palpable in his words. You wanted to know what he wanted and there it was.

It would always be you.

Excitement ran through your body as you two stood closely together.  “I guess you'll have to catch me to know my answer.” You whisper up to him, laced with that teasing tone he had grown so used to.

All he does is nod. It's all he can do.

The game was afoot. 

Ti’yar was just as breathtaking as you remembered. The streets were full of merchants and shops with smiling faces calling out to you. It only took you a few minutes to get into the center of town, and you felt confident about your good timing. You glance around the tall buildings before spotting a small lodging near the water's edge.

“A beautiful establishment, very romantic.” A small voice speaks from beside you, your eyes looking down to the small framed grandmother sweeping the ground next to your feet.

“Do they have any openings?” You ask politely while you will the Force to gently push the pile of dust together for her with ease. The elder laughs with glee but says nothing about the act.

“Tell them Inana sentcha’, they’ll give you the best suite for you and your partner up there.” 

Inana gestures towards the Razor Crest only a few miles away, just a small glint of metal on the skyline. You grow flustered quickly opening your mouth to oppose her words before she moves away from you, humming happily. The lodge catches your eye once more, glowing against the ocean in a hypnotizing way. You bite your lip, weighing the options. You had enough to pay for a great room, but would Mando realize that you weren't hiding in the actual town too quickly? Inana passes in front of you once more and you smile as an idea enters your head. You quickly take out a handful of credits and approach Inana, taking her hand and placing them into her frail hand. Inana lets out a gasp as she sees the amount now in her possession.

“Whatever is this for?” She asks, her eyes wide and curious. 

“If a Mandalorian comes this way, please let him know you saw me enter that building over there.” You explain, pointing to a building a few streets up from the plaza. Inana shakes her head, her face contorted in confusion. 

“I guess I can, that Mandalorian was always trouble, but, whatever for dear?” She asks, and from the care and kindness in her voice you have half a mind to just stay here with her. 

“I care about that person a lot. I want to prove to him I am not as delicate as he thinks I am.”

Inana clucks her tongue at you, causing a bashful flush to rise to your cheeks. 

“I’m sure he knows that young lady, but your secret is safe with me.” She smiles, patting your hand gently. 

The sun was already beginning to set, warm rays of reds and yellows painting the scenery around you. You take a deep breath as you stretch and take in the salty air. Your thirty minutes was almost up. Careful to walk along the busiest parts of the roads you slip in between groups of people, hoping they would hide your footprints as much as possible. The lodge wasn't too far from town, but the sun was already sunk behind the sea by the time you approached the front doors. The Twi’lek at the front desk happily accepted your credit and recommendation from Inana and tugged you along to a room facing the water. It wasn't too high of a floor nor too low, so if Mando was to even come this far out it would give you ample time to form a plan before he found you. 

The room was beautiful. Calm colors painted the room and you could spot a large bathtub with copious amounts of soaps. The bed centered against the wall took your breath away by the amount of blankets and pillows alone. Your fingers roamed over the fine silk of a robe the staff left out for you on the mattress and you knew you would be dreaming of this place forever. A grin practically splits your face as you slip into it only to be interrupted by the sharp hiss of the device in your ear.

“It was smart to send me in the wrong direction.” His voice was low and husky, even more modulated by the crackle of the device. 

“Don't tell me you badgered an old woman into giving you directions, Mando?” You smiled despite the surprise of his realizing your game already. You carefully moved up onto the soft sheets, noticing how easily two people could fit on the bed.  

“She gave me an earful about, what did she say, how much you liked me?” 

You gasped and flew up on the bed, heat rising to your face with ferocity. 

“I said care! How much I cared-” You slapped a hand over your mouth, inwardly groaning as a chuckle crackled from his end of the connection. 

“Good to know, sweet girl.”

Any comeback you had for him sizzled out on your tongue. 

“Now, where are you?” 

You roll your eyes, stretching out on the silken comforter while a groan escapes your lips. You could swear you heard a small hitch in his breath at your noise and you couldn't help the boost to your ego.

“Miss me that much already?”

“If I say yes will you just come home already?”

Home.

You weren't sure if he even realized what he said by the constant grumbling coming from his end of the call. “I’m a strong fallen Jedi, it would take more than some flirting to bring me back.” You tease, waiting to hear some sly remark back. You are met with static.

“Did I make you feel like you weren't?” He asks. His voice was soft and almost, you realized with curiosity, vulnerable. 

“No, you didn't, just-”

“Just what?”

“I like that you take care of me.” You state, almost impressed by the confidence in your voice. You take in a small breath before continuing, “I like it, but I needed to know it was what you wanted. The Jedi live devoted lives, it's how I was raised but now, I can choose too.” You can hear him exhale on the other end, and you could practically see his head nodding along to your words. “I want you to have that choice too, I mean you're already coming for me, unless you changed your mind, which I would still support-”

He chuckles once more at your ramblings, and the sound goes straight to your heart to tuck away for later. 

“Noted, but I’m not leaving you.” Is all he says, the warmth in his voice seeping into your mind with ease.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy despite the racing of your heart. This was nice. It was rare you and him got a chance to speak so freely. You yawn as you stretch out and nestle into the mountain of pillows arranged on the bed, a content and happy smile on your lips. 

“You tired, sweet girl?” He asks softly, and you could almost swear there's a crackling sound of ocean waves from his end. 

“Not at all…” You whisper as your voice trails off, confirming his suspicions. 

“Do you want to know why we stopped on Ti’yar?” He asks suddenly. You nod, not even thinking that he couldn't see your response. “I remembered how much you loved it when we came last time. Your eyes just, glowed, seeing the ocean and town. I wanted to make that happen again.You deserve this, you deserve more than what I can give you cyar’ika.” 

You want to protest, to tell him he is everything you deserve and more, but sleep overtakes you, only allowing a small whisper of acknowledgement to Din. He doesn't mind, rather, hearing your small huffs of sleep makes him feel better. Knowing you were in this lodge safe, proving you could run from him. It took him longer to find you than he anticipated. That old woman certainly tricked him, but he couldn't help the pride in him when he realized how smart you had been. His gaze travels up to take in the waterfront lodge. It was beautiful. Exactly the kind of place he hoped you'd find. He enters the front door, briefly talking with that same Twi'lek as before. He mutters some lies along the lines of wife and husband before they tell him what room you were in. He carefully stalks towards your room, his bounty hunter instincts urging him to move faster and faster. He finds your door, pushing it open gently. There you were, nestled so peacefully on the bed it almost made him want to leave you.

Almost.

He approaches you gently, taking in your form swathed in some silken robe that made his jaw clench. The lights flickered on to a dull glow, just enough light to see your form before him. His hand reaches out, gently brushing the soft skin of your cheek against the cool leather of his glove. You groan softly, and he has to stifle a similar noise leaving his lips. 

“Cyar’ika.” He says softly, watching with bated breath as your eyes flutter open. You roll over, unsurprised to see him before you. 

“How did I do, bounty hunter?” You ask with a sleepy smile despite the hot sensation of his hand on your cheek. 

“You did wonderful.” He says quickly, his tone so sure and confident. You sigh as you sit up and Din isn't sure if he should remove his hand or not. He decides on the latter, and gently lowers his hand before you snatch it up in your grip tightly. You pull him closer and you can feel the tautness of his body. He found his bounty and was ready to strike.

“You caught me.” You whisper softly, sitting up on the sheets to look up at him. The bed was high enough that as you sat on your knees you easily were at eye level with him. 

You already knew your choice.

You both knew.

You carefully pulled his hand to your waist, like he had all those months ago. Instead of that gruff hold he once used now he barely grips you. His hand shakes as if he is fighting himself to stay there. 

“I trust you.” Is all you say, giving him a soft smile as your hands move forward towards his armored chest. You hiss at the cold sensation of the beskar on your palms but continue roaming over his body. Your movements seem to calm him enough that you feel his hand finally rest fully on your waist, his thumb rubbing a rhythmic pattern on the silk robe.

You hum as you examine his body even further, your hands trailing up to his pauldrons and resting easily along the fabric of his cloak secured around his neck. His breath hitched only slightly and you wished you could see it for yourself. 

“You touch me as if I’ll vanish.” You muse gently. Your head tilts back to gaze up to his visored face. His head tilts to the side, exposing the smallest sliver of tanned skin underneath. 

“Sometimes I’m afraid you will.” Was his response. Mando’s tone is surprisingly soft despite the edge of his modulator. His hand tightens only slightly, barely inching up towards your ribcage. “I’m afraid you will realize you could do so much better than be stuck with me.”

His words strike you. Your eyes glance up to him with concern, “The only place I want to be is with you.” Your whispered confession floats up to him.

You are not sure who moves first.

Your body is crushed against his, those gloved hands roaming across your body as his cold metal helmet pushes itself into your neck. He’s mumbling, low and intelligible and it makes you giggle as your hands scrape against the rough fabric of his flight suit. You gasp as you're suddenly pushed down onto the plush bed. Mando’s hand still splayed on your lower back, pulling you up and against him. You gasp at the sudden friction as he moves himself between your thighs.

“Tell me what you want, cyar’ika.” He says in a low tone while trailing his hand from your back down to your thigh. Your thoughts were frazzled. A deep heat rising to your cheeks as you try to stammer out your desires. 

“I want-I want to feel you.” Your plea is met with quick movements from him, his hands quickly tearing off the leather gloves to reveal tan skin underneath. You reach for him slowly, shocked to feel just how warm he was. His hands were rough and calloused but they felt so right. You pull his hand to your face, pressing a soft kiss to his palm. The Mandalorian groans, his body jerking against yours. You grin at his reaction. 

“All that for a kiss, Mando?” You tease, pulling his hand down your neck and leaving him to the skin revealed under your robe. There's a modulated gasp and maker you think you just discovered your favorite sound. 

“Can I?” Mando asks through gritted teeth, fisting the silken robe on your body. All it takes is a whispered yes from you before your body is revealed to the cool night air. He lets out a hiss as he takes in your naked form, glowing under the soft lights within the room. You begin to worry, maybe it was too forward, but any thoughts were squashed as his hands began to roam over your skin, leaving no spot untouched. 

His thumb brushes against one of your hardened nipples and you have to bite down on a moan from how sensitive you felt below him. You had dalliances with other Jedi, all quick and to the point. But none held you like this. None touched your body with so much reverence.

“So fucking beautiful, cyar’ika.” He moans out, his hips grinding down against yours. Your legs part, making room for him as his hands struggle to decide where to go and another groan of frustration leaves his lips.

“Mando-please-” 

“It’s Din.”

In your fevered state, you still manage to glance at him with confusion.

“My name is Din.” He emphasizes before his hand trails down your stomach and to the slick pool growing between your legs, gently coaxing small moans from your lips. His fingers move deftly across your folds, rubbing that spot so perfectly before stopping completely. You let out a frustrated groan, trying to grind against him for any kind of friction to relieve yourself. Din chuckles as he shakes his head. 

“Say it, sweet girl. Say my name.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as your body aches from the lack of contact. “Please, Din, I need you-” You barely could finish your begging before his fingers plunged into you, arching your body off the bed. Din moved with expert precision, finding that sweet spot with a simple curl of his fingers that made you see stars. Then you felt it, that warm pull at the edge of your senses. You tried to focus, but every thrust of his fingers made you gasp, and you were losing control quickly.

“Din, I want to, if you'd like-”

“You can do whatever you want with me.” He interrupts, the words ringing so true between you two. You spent so much time wanting to be his so badly, it almost surprised you to hear just how badly he wanted to belong to you. 

You moved the Force like syrup, rolling lazily towards Din until it reached lower, and lower-

Din made a startled gasp as his hips stuttered, grinding into the space between you..

“Cyar’ika-” He chokes out, but continues his rhythmic movement with his fingers. You moan encouragingly, willing the sensation surrounding his clothes bulge to grow stronger, rubbing teasingly along his length. 

It almost made you blush at realizing just how much of him was hidden away.

“Fuck, sweet girl, youre so perfect-” He gasps, his fingers speeding up within you. You gasp and writhe underneath him, that tension rising within you and so ready to snap. He was close, you could tell, and you gently drew the Force back from him, his body shaking with pleasure. “Din, I need you inside me-” You plead, grinding your hips up to his. Din nods, pulling his fingers out of you with a wet sound as he fumbles with his armor and belts. 

You smile, sitting up carefully to assist him. Your hands bump against each other as you both laugh softly, trying to remove the beskar quickly. Eventually, he is in his flightsuit, and you can spy the small zipper over his lower half. You scoot forward, gently bringing your hand to the zipper and pulling until his thick length bobbed out for you to see. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, your body leaning down to him before Din chuckled, gently grasping your chin as he shakes his head. 

“Next time, cyar'ika, I don't think I will last.” He growls, pushing you back onto the bed gently, “And I want this to last.” His chest plate brushes against your breasts, causing you to gasp as his weight consumes you. He breathes heavily above you, lacing your hands with his beside your head.

“You want this?” He asks, his tone now soft and gentle. His body stays above yours, so close to bringing you that pleasure you desired. “Even though I can’t remove my helmet, you want this?”

You could practically hear the other question he wanted to ask.

Do you want me?

A shaky breath escapes your lips, your eyes peering up to his face. You nod, squeezing his hand. “I want you Din. I always will.” You tell him softly, leaning up to place a kiss on his helmet. Din chuckles before carefully guiding himself into you, hissing at the tightness surrounding him.

“Maker, you feel more perfect than I imagined,” He gasps, sinking all the way into you. You let out a shaky breath, nodding at how perfectly full you were. 

“You were made for me, cyar’ika, now I’ll never let you go.” He growls, slapping his hips against yours, a sharp moan leaving your lips as he drives into you. 

“Shit, Din, please-” You weren't sure what you were begging for, but with each thrust you were losing more and more logic. You turn your head, biting down onto the fabric on his forearm as he hits that sweet spot repeatedly. The bed was creaking across the floor, but neither of you cared, pleasure blinding you both from any consequences or care.

“I’m close, sweet girl, where do you want me to-”

“Inside me Din, please, I want to feel you inside me.”

Din wasn't sure what he had done to deserve you. He thrust into you, faster and faster, your moans turning into a scream of pleasure as his hand touches you once more, bringing you to deafening pleasure. Din was not far behind you, thrusting only a few more times until you could feel his warmth coating your insides, filling you up even more than you thought possible. He groans, sinking down on top of you, his weight adding an extra sense of security as he stays inside of you. You both stay silent, aside from the short gasps between the both of you as you try to regain control over your hearts.

“Was that good?” You finally ask, trailing a hand along his back. 

He chuckles, shaking his head at your tone. “I think you've destroyed me cyar’ika.” He mumbles, causing you to laugh softly. The lights in the room began to dull as the sun rose over the ocean, filling the walls with those same streaks of red and gold like you saw last night. You can feel Dins breathing slow as your hand strokes his back, sleep consuming him quickly. 

Maker, when was the last time you felt like this? So safe and happy? Your eyes began to flutter closed as well, even as Dins arms tightened around your body and secured you to him. 

“You’re mine, cyar’ika.” He grumbles, and you nod in agreement at his words.

“I'm yours, always yours.”

The Jedi and Mandalorian lay with one another under the soft rays of sunrise, their breathing matching one another's even as the town awakens, a new day beginning.

[officeofcommanderfox]

Hi lovelies! 💕

This is such a great idea and the story is already so good 👌🏻

So let's keep it going maybe with

18. How long has it been since i've slept?

Hope it fits 🫶🏻

Hello! We're back!!! Sorry for the delay in continuing this story. Sadly @firstofficerwiggles had a hellish semester last fall, but now it's on to a new semester and a new year and we're eager to bring you more of this tale...

The Commander & The Civvie, Chapter 7

Main Fic List | Chpt 6

Pairing: Commander Fox x female reader

Rating: T

Warnings: injuries, hospitalization, canon-style violence, Fox having emotions

Prompts: 18. How long has it been since I’ve slept?

42. Are you asking me out on a date?

How could we be here again?

Was this what it was like for her? Watching my face for any flinch, or holding my hand praying for any possible movement?

Fox rubbed his forehead, the anger within himself and the guilt overwhelmed him. 

“You two are more alike than you realize.” Thorn stated as he passed him a caf.

“What the kriff are you talking about? She’s an idiot.”

Thorn glared at his Commander, “Don’t do that. Don’t be a jackass just because you feel guilty.”

Fox didn’t answer, taking a sip of his caf and putting it off to the side. His eyes drifting back to Starlight’s face. 

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Thorn, if you have nothing to do, I can find something for you.” He turned and glared at Thorn. 

Thorn didn’t think twice, he held his hand up in the air and left the hospital room. 

In the quiet of the hospital room, he focused back on your face. He shifted sitting on the bed beside you as his hand gently caressed your cheek. He held your hand tight against his chest, “Starlight …” his finger trailed over your forehead. “Why did you do that? You’re not supposed to be here. You’re not supposed to be hurt…” He fought back tears. “Please, Starlight. Cyar’ika, please wake up. Wake up, and yell at me. Give me your irritated look. Tell me that I’m being too much, that I need to calm down.” He pressed his forehead against hers, “Please wake up.”

How did everything go so wrong? 

You stood there blinking, as Fox’s voice echoed again in your head. ‘Starlight. Have dinner with me.’

“Starlight?” Fox looked into your eyes, waiting for you to respond, “Starlight, the Senate doesn’t take this long to pass a bill.”

You blinked a few more times, as confusion crossed your face, “Wait… are you asking me out on a date?”

Fox chuckled, “Do you need me to say it? I mean do we have to put a label on it?” As much as he did want to make it a date, the look on your face made him think again.

A small smile began to emerge on your lips, those lips that always seemed to be snippy and captured his attention. Just like they drew his attention now, “Something funny, Starlight?”

“Not at all,” a coquettish smile formed on your lips, “Yes, I would like to have dinner with you.”

Fox stood outside the restaurant fidgeting with the civilian clothing he borrowed from Hound. 

Who knew Hound was active in the club scene? He had mentioned something about the ladies loving Grizz, but frankly Fox couldn’t care about what Hound had to say about the clubs or about the attention he received from the ‘ladies’ because of his akk dog. 

“Excuse me, sir? I’m supposed to meet someone here. He looks almost exactly like you, only less like a male fashion model,” your cheerful voice greeted Fox.

The Commander could feel his cheeks growing warm, “Well now, Starlight, I had to do my best to come up to your level.” His eyes raked over the beautiful outfit you were wearing, “You’re stunning.”

You beamed a smile at him in response, “Thank you, although seriously, you look fantastic. I wasn’t joking about the modelesque looks. Maybe it could be your second career when the war ends?”  

Fox chuckles at that, “You’re much too kind, Starlight, I’m pretty certain models don’t have bags under their eyes and prematurely greying hair.” 

“I dunno, you could start a new trend, exhaustingly handsome,” you teased him.

“I’m going to focus on the handsome part of that quip,” Fox told you, opening the door to the restaurant.

You winked at him as you passed by and into the warm and inviting space. The restaurant was elegant but in an understated way. A server guided the way to a quiet table with a nice view of the twinkling city lights stretching out as far as you could see. 

“This is such a lovely place,” you remarked.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi recommended it,” Fox shared, feeling pleased that you liked his choice of restaurant. 

As the two of you laughed and chatted over delightful dishes and a bottle of outstanding wine, you found yourself on the best date of your life. Relaxed and out of armor, Fox was downright charming. He told you amusing stories of his training days on Kamino and some very entertaining bits about life with the Guard before you joined the team. Granted, several of the tales included Fox telling someone off for being an idiot or admonishing one of his brothers for not following the rules, but you were discovering that your grumpy Commander could be quite entertaining.   

“It sounds like your brothers can be quite the playful ones, how good that they have you to keep them in line,” you murmured as you sipped your wine with a smile.

“I suppose so,” he agreed softly.

Fox was having the most incredible time. Who knew dates could be so… fun? Maybe Hound had been on to something. Looking over at you, he admired the way the candlelight illuminated your face and made your eyes glow at him. It had to be you, only you could make an evening this special. 

He noticed your hand resting on the table and he couldn't control his urge to reach out and brush your skin with his fingertips to see if it felt as soft as it looked. He heard you gasp softly at the initial contact, but then subtly you slid your hand closer and he took full advantage, resting his hand on top of yours. 

Yes, everything had been going perfectly.

After dinner, Fox had led you out to the street, and since he hadn’t wanted the date to end, he suggested a walk through the Illumi Gardens, a beautiful park filled with flowers, greenery, and soft twinkling lights. He’d had it planned perfectly, he’d walk you through the flowers to a little spot with a gazebo and then he’d hold you close for the perfect first date kiss. 

Fox just forgot to plan for his terrible luck.

“Oh Starlight, why did you have to do that? Why jump in front of me and sacrifice yourself?” Fox’s strained voice asked again, as he looked at you so fragile-looking in your hospital bed.

The ambush had come out of nowhere. Several well-armed thugs had surprised you both in the gardens. Grateful he had thought to keep his service weapon on him, Fox had gotten off several rounds quickly, taking out a fair share of the attackers. But there was one he hadn’t seen. 

“Tell me again, how it happened,” Thorn asked softly; he had returned with some food for Fox and yet another cup of caf for his brother.

“I was turned away, dealing with one shooter to my left, when another popped up to the right. I felt the first shot graze my shoulder, and then as I turned, she was diving in front of me, protecting me and taking a blaster bolt straight to the chest,” Fox explained, his voice sounding hollow.

He had shot the attacker four times in retaliation, when only one blast had truly been necessary. 

It had really only been an incredible stroke of luck that Jedi Master Fisto had been in the gardens too and heard the commotion. The Jedi Master had helped him subdue the rest of the thugs and then had done some of that miraculous Force healing to keep you from slipping away. Fox didn’t know how he could ever thank the general, but he would certainly try.

Fox looked over to Thorn, his eyes fresh with new tears, “How- How can I begin to live with myself if she dies?”

A soft whisper came from the bed, “Not dead yet, handsome.”

“Starlight?!?” 

Fox almost fainted with relief at your open eyes and little smirk.

“You can’t be rid of me that easily, Commander,” you rasped, your throat felt strained and you felt like you’d been leveled by a pod racer, but you were awake and alive.

Fox shook his head, “I don’t want to get rid of you, Starlight, not ever.” He stood holding your hand, internally thanking the Maker and all the galaxy that you were awake. But then his expression changed and he gave you a very stern look,

“How could you do such a stupid thing? You have no regard for your own safety!” he’s too emotional to remember to not raise his voice at you right now.

You shrugged at him, unbothered, “I wasn’t worried about me in that moment.”

Fox frowned, your response taking away some of his bite, and he grumpily muttered, “You’re too damn caring for your own good.”

He raked his hand through his unruly hair, feeling frustrated but at the same time so relieved that you were here alive for him to argue with again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look rather awful, Fox,” you giggled a bit at his disheveled appearance. It was so unlike him.

“How long has it been since I’ve slept?” Fox turned to ask Thorn.

Thorn snorted, “Days, possibly weeks,” the other man looked at you with a smile, “I’m glad you’re awake, sweetheart, now maybe I’ll get my brother back to quarters for a few hours, he hasn’t left your side.”

“I couldn’t leave, I needed to be with you, to make sure you were ok,” Fox’s voice was filled with emotion.

Noticing his brother’s state, Thorn discreetly slipped out of the room, giving you and Fox some privacy.

The man in question moved to sit on your bed, wrapping both of his large hands around yours. He opened his mouth a few times, but it took him a moment to be able to say what he wanted,

“You saved me from being shot. I’m still mad that you did it, but I’ll forever be grateful that you stepped in front of me. I don’t know how you could do something like that, but I am… thankful, Starlight.”

“I couldn’t bear it if you got hurt again,” you told him, your own feelings coming to the surface, “You mean too much to me.” 

“Well now we’re even, and to be clear, under no circumstances are you to take a blaster bolt for me,” Fox ordered sternly, sounding like his typical commander self again, “I’ll shoot you myself if you ever try a stunt like that again.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” you replied, just a touch cheeky.

“I mean it, you aren’t to put yourself in danger like that any more,” Fox sounded rather demanding, but then he softened, “I don’t think my heart can take it.”

“Perhaps we can both try to stay out of harm’s way?” You suggested, smiling at him and noticing how he was still grasping your hand like he was afraid you would disappear.

“I’ll do my best, Starlight,” Fox nodded.

“Me too,” you agreed and then you tipped your head and gave him another smile,

“I really don’t want our second date to end in the hospital too.”

We hope you enjoyed this latest part! We have more coming from asks still in the inbox, but as always feel free to send in a prompt or a general ask about the fic!

Inbox of Commander Fox

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[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"THAT'S MY GIRL"

Another fic with Sergei cause I'm in love with him and I need him to fuck me so hard I can even walk for a week take care of me in the most pleasant way possible. You know what I mean *wink wink*

I hope you like it!

Sergei was not used to being in such modest surroundings.

Dima had invited him to eat at one of the restaurants he ran and had bought him a suit for it.

The hunter reluctantly put it on him, before following his brother to the place where they would eat.

The place was exquisitely decorated, in dark brown and yellow tones. Sergei turned his glass of vodka between his fingers as he listened to Dimitri talk about the new project he was working on.

Sergei loved seeing him so excited, so he focused all his attention on him.

Until the sound of the front door bell, accompanied by a strong scent of roses, reached his nostrils. With a movement similar to that of a cat, he tilted his head to look in that direction.

Dima followed the direction in which his eyes had fallen, and smiled.

-That's Gaia -he announced, causing the hunter to look at him again- she works for me

-I see- observed Sergei with a knowing smile- and I'm sure you hired her for her qualities and social skills, am I wrong?

-Yes, brother- he complained- she's our pianist- he announced while the eldest Kravinoff watched as she sat on the bench in front of the instrument, placed in the center of the room- every Tuesday she plays several pieces to entertain the clients- he explained- we've experienced 20% more attendance than the last month, and reservations have multiplied exponentially

-I wonder why that is- Kraven murmured, focusing his gaze on her-

She turned her head to the right and to the left with her eyes closed. Sergei knew she was trying to relax. From where he was he could see how the pulse in her neck was beating wildly, a sign of the anxiety she felt.

She took a few breaths in and out, and lifted the piano lid, revealing the keys. The lights in the room slowly dimmed, until only a single orange spotlight remained, focusing on her.

She adjusted the microphone beside her so that it was at the height she needed.

Then she began to sing.

A soft melody filled the room, causing everyone to fall into a deathly silence. Her soft, melodic voice made Sergei feel relaxed like never before.

He watched the expression on her face, her eyes slightly half-closed as she savored the lyrics of the song as if it were made for her, while her fingers moved nimbly across the keys.

She never looked at them, proof that she had been practicing that piece of music for a long time.

Both he and the rest of the customers were totally amazed and absorbed by her presence, her angelic voice and the precision with which she played the piano.

When she finished, people began to applaud and Dima was no less. As the boss he was, he had to be noticed among the others, so he went up to her to congratulate her in person.

She bowed to the audience, the blush on her cheeks becoming more and more present as several people approached to congratulate her.

From his place, Sergei watched the scene attentively, but above all he watched her. She was so fucking adorable, with her wine-colored dress and her fur coat and the blush that still adorned her face.

The hunter felt a deep longing to meet her. From the moment he entered he had not been able to take his eyes off her. He wanted… no, he NEEDED to talk to her.

As if she had heard him, at that moment she turned her head in his direction.

Dimitri who was next to her made a gesture with his hand as a greeting, and he raised the glass returning it to her. Her brother spoke with her for a few moments, until they both began to approach where she was.

Their eyes met hard when they reached the table, she tilted her head breaking the connection.

-Brother, let me introduce you to Gaia –Dimitri said looking at them both respectively- our pianist

-It's a pleasure to meet you –Sergei smiled- Dima and I were just talking about the talent you possess –he murmured as she sat in front of him, next to her boss- Since when do you play the piano?

-Since I was six years old - she answered in a small voice, trying to recover from the intensity of his gaze - my father knew that I had a gift from the moment I was born - she confessed - he was the one who signed me up for music theory classes and the one who bought me my first piano - she lowered her head - I would have loved for him to be here

Sergei understood that his father was no longer with them, so he lowered his voice and answered in a whisper:

-He is - he pointed to the place where his heart was beating - there - she indicated delicately - I'm sure he's very proud of you

-Thank you - she murmured moved, he nodded in response-

Dimitri slipped away with the excuse that he had to talk to a couple of businessmen. Of course it was a lie. Sergei had seen how a certain redhead looked at his brother since they had arrived at the restaurant, so he was pretty sure that what Dima was going to do was not talk to any hotel magnate exactly.

Gaia reached for the bottle of water that was in the center of the table and poured herself a glass, which she quickly emptied.

-“What do you do?” she asked, putting the glass back on the table. “I didn’t know that Mr. Kravinoff had a brother.”

-“Mr. Kravinoff?” Sergei asked, raising his eyebrows comically. “Is that what you call him? He could be your cousin.”

-“I’m trying to remain professional,” she defended herself, looking into his eyes-

-“You don’t have to,” he whispered, fixing his blue gaze on her. “Not with me.”

The way he said it sent hundreds of shivers down her spine. She crossed her legs in a nervous gesture, making Sergei smile, who took a sip from his glass before she could see him.

-Okay - she cleared her throat, taking off her coat -

The hunter wished she hadn't.

Now the skin on her arms and neck were exposed, distracting him from the conversation. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep a cool head and his thoughts in order.

Unable to help himself, his eyes wandered from the golden bracelets on her arms to the purple pearl necklace she wore around her neck, the same color as her dress.

-So… What's your name? –she wanted to know-

-Sergei –he introduced himself again- I thought my brother would have told you

-He hasn't told me about you –she confessed looking at him carefully- I mean, he has mentioned you a few times but it seems that he doesn't like to talk about his family, except for you

-We haven't had it easy –he murmured, taking another sip of her glass- our mother took her life when we were little –he said- since then it's only been him and me

-I'm so sorry Sergei, I… I didn't know

-You didn't have to –he reassured her- it's nothing, it was a long time ago –he pointed around with a smile- now he has all this thanks to his effort, hard work and his excellent staff –he emphasized clinking his glass with hers, making her sketch a shy smile-

-I wouldn't define myself as “excellent” –she laughed- but I will accep the compliment anyway

-I've never seen anyone play the piano like that the way you do it -he confessed, leaning her elbows on the table-

Gaia's gaze fell on his strong arms, which pressed hard against the fabric of his white shirt. She swallowed when she saw the fang tied to his neck.

Who was that man and why, despite all her instincts screaming at her to get away from him, her mind was telling her just the opposite?

He noticed her scrutiny and continued speaking.

-"The way you feel music is something I've never seen in anyone else," she whispered. "Your eyes closed…" -he reached out her hand to his, her fingertips warm against the skin of his palm-

Sergei looked at her for a moment, giving her time to move away.

She didn't.

-Your lips parted - he continued, tracing the veins on his arm with his index finger - your concentrated expression and your voice… - a hoarse laugh came from the back of his throat - I had never heard anything like it in my life

His finger stopped on her shoulder, before going back down to her hand, where he traced her fingers one by one, making her shudder under his touch.

-Sergei… - she whispered with labored breathing - we shouldn't be doing this - he said - my boss…

-Dima will understand - he murmured, intertwining his gaze with hers again - I'm his older brother - he shrugged - besides, you've already done your act - he reminded her - it won't matter if you leave for a couple of hours - he smiled - Right?

-Maybe - Gaia considered - you didn't answer the question I asked you before - she remembered trying to focus on something other than the touch of his fingers on her skin - What do you do?

-I hunt. People. –he answered, her eyes widened-

-Bad people?

-Horrible people –Sergei stated- people who shouldn't even be considered as such

Gaia felt a familiar pressure begin to settle in her lower belly.

Why she was horny given the topic of the conversation he couldn't understand.

Of course he knew.

He had felt her cross her legs under the table several times, enough to know that she was trying to relieve the arousal she felt by pressing on her center.

At the moment it wasn't working, nor would it, given that what she needed… no WHO she needed was the man in front of her.

-And… How do you do it? –she asked curiously- Would you kill me if I had done something bad?

-It depends –he whispered, fixing his blue eyes on her- Have you been a bad girl?

-I don't think so, no - she answered, trying not to let it be obvious how much the name had affected him-

-Then you have nothing to worry about - he smiled, hooking his leg with hers under the table - you're safe

-I know - she answered quickly. She let out a gasp when she felt him open her legs discreetly, making their wet folds collide with each other- Sergei… -she whispered biting her lower lip- not here

-So you admit that you wanted this to happen, right? –he asked, she slowly nodded her head- you lied to me, dorogoy –he growled, his accent only making his voice come out deeper than it already was, not helping her at all- you have been a very bad girl –he smiled before moving her leg away and leaving a couple of bills in the center of the table- He stood up and held out his hand to her, to which she responded by accepting his gesture. When she stood up she saw that, despite the heels she was wearing, he was a head taller than her.

The difference in height did NOT help her lividity EITHER.

-Do you know what happens to bad girls, prekrasnyy? -he whispered, holding her chin between his index finger and middle finger-

Gaia noticed that his eyes were even bluer up close. Both of them lit up for a moment in a beautiful amber tone, before returning to light blue again.

-I don't know- she answered, playing along- What's wrong with them?

-Someone needs to teach them some manners- he smiled like a lucky bastard when he saw how she clenched the fabric of his white shirt between her fists, held one hand in hers and gestured towards the door- let's get out of here- he whispered, tilting his head- unless you'd rather stay

Gaia looked away from him for a moment to look at the rest of the customers. When she saw that her boss wasn't around, she turned to Sergei again.

-No- he answered as a new blush appeared on his cheeks- let's go

-That's my girl- he smiled, leading them both towards the exit-

(btw the song Gaia was playing was "Fields of Gold" by Sting. I'll put the piano version down here and the normal one, so you can listen to both of them)

Piano version (that you can listen to while Gaia is playing it on the fic)

And the normal one

[brummiereader]

@mischievouslittlecreature fantastic chapter, Lily 😍!

I'm sorry I'm getting so behind on reading 😩. I've currently got a nasty case of bronchitis that won't fuck off 😭, so forgive me if my comments on this chapter don't make much sense.

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head. I love how the title of this chapter echoes that pinned note. You're so clever at connecting everything together.

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. He didn't really think she'd listen to him did he 😅? Poor baby, I couldn't help but notice how tired he was in this exchange too. He sounded like he was stating facts more than having a conversation with her 😔.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Although the image of Tommy having to sit and listen to the screeching noises of Charlie's violin always makes me giggle, I've never really looked at this scene and it's deeper meaning until your descriptions. They're constantly trying to simultaneously keep up some normality for Charlie's sake, all while internally losing their minds with stress with everything going on. I wonder if they both ever ask themselves if it's all worth it?

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.” I never really understood what Tommy meant when he said this. Seems pretty counterproductive coming from a gangster 😂. But I can definitely see why Lucy picked up on this comment in particular. She's already pretty fragile when it comes to her own self worth in Tommy's life, and she has a tendency to pick apart small remarks like this until she's convinced herself that Tommy doesn't want her 😩.

How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. It's interesting how Lucy only ever points out Lizzie's nicer qualities. Because those far and few between positive aspects of her are often completely buried under the hatred Lizzie shows 😬.

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. Why can she never see herself in this equation too 😭? I know he often fucks up when it comes to noticing Lucy's need for reassurance, but I fear she'll never fully see how much he loves her. And I feel like this is only going to get worse as the series continues 😬.

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. Ha, exactly Lucy! Urghh I loathe him.

I love how you explored what Polly would potentially have felt about the situation if things did continue to get worse while she was still there. Because as much as Tommy and Lucy are right about Michael,and as much I think Polly would have agreed with them, there is no fucking way she'd let Tommy take him out. I get the impression that Tommy really doesn't give out second chances to people he's not romantically involved in.

Loved this chapter, hun. I'm eager to see Lucy and Gina's interactions in the next parts 😬!

Part 26: Do You Love Me

Summary: Tommy and Lucy begin to suspect Michael of a far worse betrayal than what happened on the stock market.

Word Count: 6,076

Warnings: Violence and insecurity.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 4: The Seeds You Have Sown

Lucy rubbed at her eyes with the heel of one hand as she descended the stairs sluggishly. The house was always disconcertingly quiet in the mornings. Even more so with Lizzie and Ruby gone. Normally she got up with Tommy, which helped to cloak over some of the eeriness that the huge house exuded in the early hours. Especially in her dark, isolated wing of the mansion. 

But this morning she had woken up alone. Well, the second time she woke up, she was alone. The first time she had stirred at movement beside her, rolling over with an arm seeking out Tommy’s space beside her in the bed only to find it empty.

“Go back to sleep, love,” he had said, large hand passing over the top of her head. Rather than laying beside her, he was sitting on the edge of the mattress, already mostly dressed. 

“Mm. Why aren’t you here?” she complained, patting the spot next to her, even as she nuzzled back down into his pillow.

“There’s something I need to go check. Won’t be long.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, sweetheart, just go back to sleep,” he kissed the top of her head.

She drifted in and out for awhile after that, but it was hard to find true sleep without him there. Finally, she’d risen out of bed with a sigh, yawning and stretching and slouching her way over to the wardrobe to pull on her clothes for the day. 

Dressed and at least half awake, she was just making her way to the dining room in the hopes of finding a warm breakfast waiting for her when Charlie came exploding in through the front door. His shoes clattered loudly on the floor as he raced towards her. 

“Lucy! Dad wants you,” he skidded to a halt, nearly colliding with her. “He’s outside in the garden.”

“Charlie, what–”

“Miss. Winters, there was a phone call for Mr. Shelby’s office phone that he just missed,” Frances appeared to her left. “And Mrs. Milligan is here for Charles’s violin practice.”

Who the fuck has violin practice this early in the morning?   

“Alright, um, Charlie, you go with Frances to your lesson–”

“He said I’m to play extra loudly today,” Charlie giggled. “Because there might be some bangs outside. Do you know why, Lucy?”

Her blood went cold, eyes snapping to the windows. Suddenly wide awake. She looked back at Charlie, forcing what she hoped was a reassuring smile to pull at her lips. “Yes, Charlie. I think I do. You said that he’s in the garden, did you?”

Charlie nodded.

“Right,” she turned to Frances, who had gone a little pale. “Where’s the teacher?”

“In the drawing room.”

“Charlie, go with Frances to see Mrs. Milligan. Frances, keep everyone inside until we get back.”

“Yes, Miss. Winters.” Frances took Charlie by the hand, quickly leading him away. Lucy waited until they’d gone before running to the cupboard in which they kept a small artillery. She snatched up a tommy gun, some extra ammo, and raced outside. 

She found Tommy seated on the grass by the barren fields, smoking and rubbing at his face with hands smeared with dirt.

“What’s happened?” she asked, hooking the strap of the submachine gun over her shoulder. Her eyes darted around wildly, searching for any signs of danger but finding none. Until her gaze landed on the middle of the field, where a scarecrow was erected on a wooden cross. Lucy stared at it, breath catching in her throat. 

They didn’t have a scarecrow in the field. Not at this time of year, anyway. There was no point when there wasn’t anything planted in it anyway.

If she squinted she could make out that it was dressed in clothes eerily similar to Tommy’s daily attire: a dark coat, trousers, waistcoat, and white button down shirt, with a pocket watch dangling from its neck that glinted in the sun, and a peaky cap a top its burlap head. 

Tommy looked up at her with bleary eyes, chest heaving up and down. 

“There are landmines in the field.”

“What!?”

He nodded, gesturing with his cigarette towards the scarecrow mounted in the center of the barren stretch of mud. “All around the scarecrow. Fucking miracle that I didn’t step on one.”

“You went out there?”

He nodded. “There was a message pinned to it. Look down on earth and see the seeds you have sown,” he shook his head.

“Fuck,” she looked out at the field, watching whisps of white mist float across it. 

“In our own fucking garden, Lucy.”

“Yeah.” Already, her mind had begun to work. Who? Who would do such a thing? They were not lacking for enemies, but she struggled to immediately think of any who would be so bold as to do something like this right under their noses. 

“Charlie almost stepped on them. He came running onto the field to get me. If I hadn’t grabbed him in time…” Tommy trailed off, shoulders shuddering. Lucy’s lips parted, eyes widening. A sick feeling twisted in her stomach at the thought of what could have happened to their sweet boy. A hand went to his shoulder, clapping onto it both for stability and in an attempt to offer comfort. 

Distantly, from within the mansion, she could hear the sounds of a violin starting to play. She closed her eyes against the sound. Normally, she wasn’t particularly taken with Charlie’s violin playing. Often she caught herself wishing he’d chosen a less…shrill instrument to learn. Like the piano or even the harp. But today, she relished in the shriek and squeaks of the bow against the strings. 

“He’s okay,” she said, to Tommy and to herself. 

“Yeah.” He heaved out a massive sign, head bowing. She rubbed back and forth across his shoulder, feeling the tension in his muscles even through the material of his coat and the shirt he had on underneath.     

“What do you want to do about the mines?” 

“We need to take care of them,” he heaved himself to his feet, “so no one risks getting their leg blown off if they step out there.”

“Alright,” she unhooked the strap of her gun from where it was secured on her shoulder. “Should I shoot at the ground from over here, or…?” “No. They’re only around the scarecrow. I think.”

“You think?” 

“If there were ones anywhere else in the field, I’m pretty sure there would be bits of me scattered all over the garden by now.”

She cringed at the mental image, heart twisting upwards into her throat. “Don’t joke about that.”

He looked over at her, saw the expression on her face, and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, kissing the top of her head. “Sorry.” He reached for the machine gun clutched her hands, but she pulled it away. 

“What are you doing?”

“Well…I need…” he had enough foresight to look sheepish at what he was implying. 

“I’m not letting you walk back out there alone.”

“Luces, please…”

“No! I’m not just going to stand here and watch you get blown up.”

“It’ll be fine–”

“Then you should have no problem with me coming with you.”

He closed his mouth, eyes narrowing down at her. “You’re so bloody stubborn, you know that?” But there was no bite in his words. If anything, he just sounded very, very tired. Lucy touched his chin delicately. 

“Look who’s talking.”

A ghost of a smile danced on his lips for a second. “You really would rather risk getting blown up with me than just wait right here?”

“Yes,” she said, without even a moment’s hesitation. His eyes softened, and he didn’t even need to say anything for her to know that she’d won. 

“Alright, then,” he sighed, looking back towards the scarecrow. “Just stick close to me, yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

Through the mist, Lucy could just make out the outline of another tommy gun laying on its side in the mud. He must have dropped it in his haste to get Charlie out of the field. 

“Come on.”

She followed him towards the gate that led out into the rows of soft, damp earth. She was careful to stay behind him and follow the path he cut through the mud, since he knew where the landmines were. He scooped up his gun where it lay on the ground, shaking dark tendrils from his fringe that had fallen forward out of his eyes. Immediately, he started firing upon the scarecrow. He emptied an entire magazine into it before coming to a halt, releasing the magazine drum to let it go tumbling to the ground, sliding a second one into its place with a click. Lucy’s finger found the trigger of her own gun, raising it once she came to a stop at his side. Squinting at the dirt around the scarecrow, she squeezed her finger around the trigger.     

The ground around the scarecrow erupted, dark soil and boiling flames exploding with a furious blaze into the sky. They were standing close enough for Lucy to feel the heat from the explosions on her face and smell the charred scent of smoke and burst metal. 

The explosions came one after the other as they swept the ground with bullets, setting off landmine after landmine, each bursting in its own mini inferno. 

And then all was quiet. 

Black smoke roiled upwards, rolling over itself, momentarily blotting out the sun above them before being broken apart by the wind. 

“You think that was all of them?” Lucy asked, lowering her weapon, glancing over to see Tommy doing the same.  

“Yeah. We’ll have to dig them up later.”

“Not now?”

He shook his head. “Charlie said that there was a phone call for me.”

“Yeah. To your office phone. Do you think it has anything to do with this?”

“Maybe.”

Mist danced around their ankles while he started to lead the way back to the house. She eyed him as they walked side by side. His entire face was pinched with stress, shoulders wound ever tighter than usual.

Michael was supposed to be coming back today. She knew that Tommy had been dreading the day; the tension within him seeming to build more and more as the date grew closer. 

Not that she could blame him. She felt it too; that sense of deep, approaching dread building in her stomach, hairs on the back of her arms standing on end, alarm bells blaring in her ears that danger was approaching. 

Once they were inside, she took a quick detour to lock both of their guns back up in the artillery cupboard before meeting him in his office. He was already on the phone when she slipped in, cocking it slightly when she came over to stand next to him so she could hear static crackling through the receiver, and then the buzz of the line ringing.

Whoever was on the other end picked up, and for just a second, she heard Michael’s voice before it was silenced. And then an Irish lilt filtered through the receiver, the voice introducing herself Captain Swing. Lucy’s brows pinched, stomach twisting into knots as Swing explained that Michael had been caught onboard the ship he’d taken from America, in his cabin making deals with men in Belfast who wanted Tommy dead. In the background, Lucy could hear the faint sounds of Michael’s voice, screaming that Swing was lying. 

Swing offered that she could have Michael killed then and there, or she could send him home for them to deal with. Tommy chose the latter. 

At Swing’s revelation that Michael was discussing with their enemies how they’d divide up the racetracks after they’d blown away Tommy’s legs, Lucy froze. 

That was a very specific way of wording things. And a very specific type of death. 

Her eyes shifted to the windows, looking out at the misty field. Despite the mines they’d detonated around it, the scarecrow was still standing on its cross, the wind ruffling its clothes.

How did she know about the mines?

Either what Swing was saying was true, and Michael had been in on the planting of them, or Swing herself had been involved in some way.  

“What the fuck,” Lucy said, soon as he’d put the phone down. Tommy looked as if he were seconds away from a stress-induced stroke, turning his back to the room to instead stare out the window while lighting a cigarette. “Do you really think…?” “I don’t know,” he shook his head, voice dropping to a whisper. “I don’t fucking know.”

It wouldn’t be entirely out of the realm of possibility for Michael to betray them. He’d done it before, during the vendetta. But at least then he’d had the excuse of choosing loyalty towards Polly over Tommy. 

“Fucking kid…” the shock was beginning to give way to rage. “We should never have taken him back in.” If it weren’t for them, he’d be some boring accountant, probably for a firm in London somewhere. Or maybe still trapped in that little village that he hated so much. How fucking dare he try to move against them? “He’ll be in Liverpool soon. Assuming that Swing actually lets him go and he doesn’t try to run. I could go to the station and assess him. Find out if anything that Swing said was true.”

“No.” 

She opened her mouth to argue, but Tommy put a gentle hand on her arm, drawing her in closer to his side. 

“I think that if either of us were to see him right now, we might kill him on the spot. I’ll send Polly and Arthur to pick him up.”

“He might not even show.”

“Then we’ll have our answer.” He lifted his cigarette to his lips, movements slow. 

“Even if Polly and Arthur clear him, I think we should quarantine him for a while. Just to be safe.”

Tommy nodded. “I’ll have him and the American girl he’s bringing with him put up at the Midland.”

“Good idea.” The Midland belonged to them. All eyes and ears employed within its walls were theirs. Every phone call, every activity, even every fucking thing that Michael ate would be reported to them. 

“And have some of our boys see what they can find on this Captain Swing and her people.”

“Will do.”

There was the click of heels against the floor outside, and then a few rapid knocks on the door. Tommy’s chest heaved with his sigh, lifting a hand to scratch at his brow. 

“Come,” he called, voice gruff, not turning from where he was still staring out the windows. His voice sounded very far away, and Lucy knew that he was currently locked within his own head, turning each and every possibility over and over in his mind. She inched a little closer to him, and when his arm draped around her shoulders, she looped her own around his waist, hoping that the warm press of her body against his side would help to soothe him. 

Frances came in, bringing with her inquiries from the violin teacher about the bangs she’d heard. Tommy waved away her concerns with an explanation of testing fireworks. One glance at the housekeeper’s face, and Lucy could tell that she didn’t believe him for even a second, but knew better than to pry.

“Also, will Mrs. Shelby and Ruby be home for dinner tonight?” she asked instead.  

“I don’t know.”

Lucy looked down, feeling the all too familiar pang of guilt wash through her. They’d had next to no contact with Lizzie since she’d left. Both of them too afraid of making things worse if they did not allow Lizzie her space. 

But God, it was eating her up not being able to see Ruby. The little girl was like a bright beam of sunlight in the otherwise dreary, melancholic house. The whole place seemed a shade darker in her absence.   

Surely Lizzie couldn’t keep her from Tommy forever. Despite everything, she was still his daughter. She would have to let him see her sometime. 

Him, maybe. But not you. You have no claim to her. No matter how much you love her.

She squeezed her eyes shut. The idea of never seeing Ruby again made her want to curl in on herself and weep. 

Approaching footsteps had the three of them starting and turning to see Charlie standing in the doorway, violin clutched in his hands. Excited to show Tommy the new tune he’d learned that morning. 

“And what have you learned, my boy?” Tommy asked, and Lucy detected that he was making great effort to lighten his tone so Charlie would not notice the deep tension practically radiating from him. He slipped down into the chair behind his desk, a hand on Lucy’s waist urging her into his lap. She settled there, arm around his shoulders and head leaning against his.

Together, they sat, listening to the shrill squeaks and squeals of Charlie’s violin. All the while trepidation sank deeper and deeper into their bones. Regarding Michael. Regarding whoever had planted those land mines in their garden, like deadly flowers waiting to bloom in a fiery inferno. And regarding the danger that seemed to be coming at them from each and every direction. 

∗ ∗ ∗

They stepped into the Garrison to find it utterly trashed. Broken glass crunched under their shoes, half filled and empty glasses littered the tables, and spilled booze seeped into the floorboards. There were only two people occupying the pub: a girl, who roused at Tommy scrapping a barstool against the floor to perch on, and Finn, who remained fast asleep spread out in a booth despite their less than silent entrance. The girl rushed to gather up her clothes and hurry out the door at Tommy’s command.

While he and Arthur set to work dealing with Finn, Lucy grabbed up a broom from the supply closet and started sweeping up some of the broken glass littered all over the place. They seemed to get through to him alright, though Lucy couldn’t entirely shake the wariness that had settled within her when it came to Finn. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was something not unlike how she always felt around Polly. That instinctual knowledge that, no matter what she did or how many times she proved her loyalty, Finn would never truly accept her as a part of the family. 

At his mention to Tommy that he’d found a girl he wanted to marry, she started. Jesus, she kept forgetting that Finn wasn’t a kid anymore. In her mind, he was still that little boy running throughout the streets of Small Heath with dirt smeared across his face, grinning as he weaved between the adults’ legs at the betting shop. 

That might explain some of his recent behavior, however, what with the running head-on into danger half-cocked. Whoever this girl was, he was trying to impress her. 

“Tell me about her,” Tommy requested. 

“She likes the life.”

“She likes the life, ey? Well, find one that hates it. Look at him,” Tommy gestured to Arthur. “That’s what he did, and now he’s chairman of the board.”

She frowned, grip tightening on the broom that she was holding, catching her lip between her teeth to worry at it while she shifted uncomfortably. Finn was dismissed, though Lucy barely noticed.   

Was that what he really thought? That all of them were better off with women who hated the lives that they’d chosen to live? 

She did not fit into that category. But Lizzie did. 

Of course he missed his daughter and wanted her to come home. Lucy missed her too. But it had not even really occurred to her that he may be missing Lizzie as well. 

Her fear that Lizzie would someday replace her was a constant, forever presence in the back of her mind. Sometimes it was quiet, hardly even a whisper to be heard. Other times it was a scream, a blaring siren warning her to brace herself for heartbreak that surely would be coming at any moment. The volume of it ebbed and flowed like the tide. 

His words ran on a loop in her head, doubts growing. Maybe the type of person that she was no longer appealed to him. Maybe Lizzie was what he really wanted. A nice, normal woman. Not some basket case who woke up most nights screaming from nightmares, or who flinched at unfamiliar touches or loud noises. Who didn’t find even the smallest enjoyment out of the sport or kind of work that they did. Who rode a horse sidesaddle rather than with a leg on either side.          

Did she like the life anymore? She honestly couldn’t say. The life had caused her an awful lot of pain, as the aches in her shoulders or the twinges in her heart so often liked to remind her. But it had given her Tommy. And if the life of a gangster was what she had to lead to be with him, she’d do it all again in a heartbeat. Without even the smallest hesitation. 

She swallowed hard, shifting uncomfortably. A combination of excitement and dread opened up inside her at Arthur’s report that Lizzie and Ruby would be home later that day. She couldn’t wait to see Ruby. But the idea of having to face Lizzie, especially after the fight they’d had and Tommy’s latest comments, left her feeling nothing but anxiousness. 

Tommy started to give Arthur orders for how to handle Michael once he arrived from Liverpool, but she barely heard him. 

She knew that Tommy cared for Lizzie. That had never bothered her. She cared for her too. But the idea that he might someday fall in love with her terrified her. Because if he loved her the way that Lizzie so desperately wanted him to, there would be no room for Lucy in his life anymore. No love left for her. 

A part of her had always figured it was an inevitability. How could he not fall in love with Lizzie? She was sweet, beautiful, the mother of his child, and he had known her for years. Even longer than he’d known Lucy. It was impossible that he could spend so much time in such close proximity to her–both emotionally and physically–without certain feelings beginning to bloom. 

Once that happened, she would be done for. Because when Tommy loved someone, really loved them, like he did her and Grace, he would do anything for them. And the first thing that Lizzie would ask of him would be to toss Lucy out onto the street like an unwanted dog. 

Everything she had, she had because of Tommy. She was not naive enough to think otherwise. Without him, she would lose everything. Hell, he was everything to her. Some days, she doubted she would even be alive if it weren’t for him. What would she even have to live for? Without Tommy she was completely and utterly alone. 

“Lucy?” Tommy called, and she started, realizing that he had stood and gone to the Garrison’s doors, waiting for her to follow him.

“Sorry.” Setting aside the broom she was holding, she wiped her hands down on her overcoat and moved to trail him outside, giving a sharp shake of her head to try to dislodge the thoughts banging around uncomfortably inside her mind. 

“You alright?” he asked, once they had made their way to the station and seated themselves in a compartment on the next train headed for London. The floor vibrated under her shiny black boots as they started to pull out of the station, beginning the journey south. She looked away from where she was gazing out the window with her knuckles resting against her lips to find Tommy eyeing her, mild concern shining in his eyes. 

She thought about asking him what he meant by what he’d said in the Garrison. But she didn’t have the courage to open her mouth and let the words come out. Too scared by what his answer might be.  

“Yeah,” she said, instead, shifting so that her temple leaned against the cool glass of the window. “I’m fine.”

∗ ∗ ∗

“Excuse me?”

Lucy looked up from her desk into the face of a bald man with a pointed nose and a dark mustache. He had his hat clutched in his hands, running his fingers along the fine material.  

“Yes?”

“This is the office of Thomas Shelby, correct?”

“It is.” She put down her pen. From his desk across from hers, Adam shot her a nervous look. “How can I help you?”

“My name is Stacker. I need to ask Mr. Shelby some questions. Is he in?”

“What sort of questions?”

The man shifted from foot to foot. “There was a shooting two days ago of a journalist who was in here to meet with Mr. Shelby the night before his death. I’d like to speak with him about it.”

“You’re police?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Police aren’t allowed in here.”

“I’m here in a very…unofficial context.”

“Mm,” she cocked her head, both of them aware that wasn’t truly the case. But flat out sending him away might do more harm than good. “Adam, go find Mr. Shelby and tell him that there’s a policeman here to see him.”

Adam nodded, standing and slipping past Stacker to rush out the door. 

“You can wait in his office,” Lucy said, standing and walking around Stacker to open the double doors, leading him inside. “Who’s your Chief Constable, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Chief Constable Wyatt, Miss.”

She nodded. Good. They knew Wyatt. “Mr. Shelby will be here in a moment. Can I get you something to drink, while you wait?”

“No thank you. I’m alright.”

She went out into the front office, plucking up a folder from her desk and flipping through it to appear busy while waiting for Tommy and keeping one eye on Stacker. The policeman prowled around the office, examining the papers and trinkets spread out on the big desk, then moving to inspect a painting of a white horse surrounded by a golden frame and hung on the wall behind Tommy’s chair. He didn’t touch anything, though Lucy was sure he was making mental notes about all that he was seeing. 

Heavy footfalls announced Tommy’s presence, entering the office with his briefcase in hand and Adam trailing in behind him. 

 “His Chief Constable is Wyatt,” she murmured into his ear. He nodded.

“Five minutes, then come tell me I’ve got an appointment or something that I need to get ready for so he’ll leave.”

She nodded, going to lounge behind her desk while he went in to deal with the officer. 

Just another day in Parliament, she thought to herself as she lit a cigarette, puffing smoke up towards the ceiling, keeping an eye on the clock for when she would need to rise and rescue Tommy from the clutches of the lawman.

The police investigating Levitt’s death wasn’t a particularly unexpected occurrence. Nor was them coming here to talk to Tommy about it, considering that Levitt had died not long after seeing him. Their boys had done good work on the hit, giving it enough flourish to send a message to any other journalists looking to try something, all while ensuring that the police wouldn’t be able to link it to them easily. If at all.  

Didn’t mean that their poking and prodding around wasn’t annoying, though. She had hoped that the police would simply assume that Levitt’s death was a result of conflict caused in his personal life, and they could avoid being pulled into the investigation all together. But apparently not. 

The clock chimed, and she rose from her seat, grabbing up some documents that she needed Tommy to look over anyway, going back into his office just as the last chime sounded. 

“Mr. Shelby, you have a meeting with an MP from Essex in a few minutes.” She reported, placing the documents she’d brought in on his desk. Tommy turned his gaze onto the policeman.

“Your time’s up, Mr. Stacker.”

Stacker said nothing, throat working. Whatever Tommy had said to him before she came in, it had either given him pause, or made him very angry. Perhaps a bit of both. His eyes flickered between them, and then he rose from his seat. 

“Thank you,” Tommy called to his back as he retreated from the room.

“Did it not go well?” Lucy asked, once she heard the door close shut behind Stacker, watching Tommy’s face while he moved around his desk to his chair. 

“He’s suspicious. But I don’t think it’ll stick. If it does, I’ll have a word with Wyatt about him.”

“Alright.”

Tommy’s eyes shifted to the clock. She glanced over her shoulder at it. 

“Arthur was supposed to call me at three,” he huffed, as they watched the minute hand tick over to the right. 

“It’s only two minutes past, love.” She moved around to his side of the desk, touching his shoulder. “Arthur isn’t always the most punctual.”

He just grunted, and she smiled fondly at his grumpiness, rubbing his shoulder a few times to try to massage away some of the tension she felt in his muscles. When she moved to retract her hand, he caught it in his, dipping his face to peck a kiss to the back of it. His eyes squinted at her, assessing. 

“Something’s bothering you.”

She looked down and away. His thumb rubbed back and forth across her hand where it was still clasping it. She glanced anxiously towards the door.

“There’s no one who might see us except for Adam. And he already knows about us,” Tommy said, reading her mind. “Talk to me. You’ve been quiet since we left the Garrison this morning.”

“It’s…it’s nothing, really.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell me?”

She finally looked up at him. The hard wood of his desk was digging into her back where she was leaning against it. She opened her mouth to tell him, then closed it again. It all felt a little ridiculous when she actually tried to put it into words. “Because I’m just being stupid.”

His brows pinched, fingers squeezing a little against hers. “Well, now you have to tell me.”

Her lips pricked upwards. His hand smoothed up her arm, nearly to her shoulder, rubbing a few times before finding its way back to her hand, raising it back to his lips. “Hm?” His head cocked, tempting. “Come on, now, talk to me,” he said, in a voice like a honey. Lucy huffed, trying to stifle a shiver at the warm rumble of his words, struggling to gather her thoughts into coherent sentences.

“I’m happy that Ruby and Lizzie are coming home. Really. I just…” she sighed, glancing away again. Tommy’s thumb massaged across her knuckles encouragingly, his piercing gaze fixed on her patiently while he waited for her to finish her thought. But she found that she couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough to actually speak the words that rested on the tip of her tongue.

Am I not what you want anymore?

Are you falling in love with her?

Do you still love me?

And yet she didn’t need to. Both of Tommy’s hands landed on her hips. “Come here,” he drew her in closer, head tipping back to peer up at her through his dark fringe, gaze so softened with affection that it nearly stole the breath from her lungs. And she was left suddenly feeling very foolish that she could ever possibly have doubted his feelings for her. 

“I love you.” He laid a quick kiss on her lips. “I love you, not her. That’s never going to change.”

Her hands came to rest on the nape of his neck, skin warm under her fingers. Relief, that he understood what she was trying to say without her actually having to utter it, had tension that she hadn’t even realized had built up in her muscles melting away. A relieved breath released from her lungs. 

She lowered her head to press her lips to his hair, closing her eyes, voice dropping to nearly a whisper. “I know.” And she did. Deep down, she always did. It was just that sometimes the voices in her head screamed so loud that they drowned out everything else. “Sorry. Sometimes…sometimes I just get scared.” 

His eyes grew sad. “Don’t be sorry,” his thumb circled against her hip. “Brains can be stupid, ey?”

A quiet laugh left her. “Yeah. They can, can’t they?”

“Mm,” humming in agreement, he dropped his head to kiss her shoulder.

The phone on his desk started ringing, popping the little bubble of contentment that had formed around them. Tommy let out a soft groan, lifting his head and reaching around her to grab at the receiver. He tilted it just so against his ear so that she could lean in and hear what was being said on the other end. 

“Arthur?”

“Yeah,” the older Shelby’s gravely voice rumbled through the receiver. “Polly says Michael’s telling the truth.”   

“Did you see him?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“He was angry with us.”

Lucy snorted. As if Michael had any reason to be mad after he’d just lost all their fucking money. 

“Got some American girl with him, too,” Arthur continued. “They got married on the ship on the way here. Name’s Gina Gray. Formally Nelson.”

“What’s she like?”

There was a snort. “She’s got an attitude on her, that’s for bloody sure. Got rooms for them at the Midland. Michael’s mad as a swarm of hornets about it, but he agreed to stay there.”

“Good. What did you think of Michael?”

There was a long pause. “Honestly, Tom…I thought he was awfully fucking defensive for someone who supposedly doesn’t have anything to fucking hide.”

Tommy nodded, looking out the window, lips pursing together.

“I have my revolver with me,” Arthur said, after a moment. “I could probably catch up to them before they even get to the hotel…”

“No. I want to speak with him first. Before we make any permanent decisions. Just have our people at the Midland watch him, for now.”

“All right.”

Tommy hung up the phone, and then let out a groan, face falling forward to rest on her chest, arms looping loosely around her waist. Lucy laid her palms on the back of his head, hugging it to her while her chin rested on his soft dark hair. 

“Well, at least we can keep an eye on him here,” she murmured. With a sigh, Tommy raised his head. 

“Yeah.”

“If you change your mind and want him taken care of, just say the word.”

“We have to be absolutely sure.”

She examined his face, understanding. It wasn’t about Michael. Not really. Not anymore. Maybe at some point it would have been, but most of the good will that Tommy had towards his cousin had dried up long ago. 

This was about Polly. 

If he ordered Michael’s death without provable provocation, he would lose Polly forever. Hell, even if they were able to prove that Michael was trying to have Tommy killed, that may not be enough to sway Polly to their side. At the end of the day, Lucy believed that she always would side with him. Even over the other Shelbys, if she had to. And understandably so. Michael was her son. 

But Tommy loved Polly enough that he would not have Michael killed. Not until he either had no other choice, or he was confident that Polly would support him on it.

Delicately, she brushed a few tendrils of hair out of his face. “It’ll be okay.” 

He looked up at her with eyes worn ragged, stress pinching at the edges of his mouth and in his brow. She stroked his face, smoothing away the lines, drawing his head in close to rest on her chest again. He nuzzled into her with a sigh, eyes sliding closed and cheek resting comfortably atop her breasts. 

She wished terribly that there was more that she could do for him. All she wanted was to be able to help him. To help lessen the burdens that he carried. But there wasn’t much more that she could do. Not now, at least.

So instead, she just held him.  

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[tonycries]

SCREEN QUEEN! - G.S.

Synopsis. To see a movie or to make one? Four times Geto Suguru absolutely ruined you for the cameras, and the one time outside of them.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pórnstar! reader, pórnstar!Geto, he is so DOWN BAD, exhibítionism, breéding, Geto’s tattoos, Geto’s PIERCINGS (d, tongue), THREÉSOMES, some Gojo x Reader x Geto, streamer!Gojo, vóyeurísm, Geto gets one taste is PÚSSYDRÚNK, mast. (Geto), oraI (fem + male rec.), spítting, p slapping, some Toji x Reader, PÚRE SMUT, húmping, matíng presses, semi-public, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 10.1k (woah)

A/N. Have a lovely week <3

“Ch-chin up, honey–” Geto’s drunkenly half-lidded stare sticks to you like a greedy second skin. And it makes him snicker, curling his thick fingers around your neck to force your glassy eyes upwards. “Let the camera see that hah- pretty face of yours.”

You mewl, batting your teary lashes up at his towering figure. Pretty glossed lips pressing the most sinful French kisses up his sensitive shaft, “Like this, Sugu?”

And god, that makes him throw his head back with a whimper. It makes him dredge up everything left of his sanity to remember those next few lines of his, praying that those babbling messes of his groans pick up on the microphones. 

“Y-yeah, got that right.” he jostles his muscular thighs even more heavily manspread, baring you with a sopping wet swipe of his angry tip against your pout. Poking the bulbous curve of his cool metal piercing just barely- “So you can listen, brat.”

Damn. Geto’s already sure he’d stumbled over his script a few too many times. Already sure he’d forgotten what the next scene was with how he was too dangerously close-

CUT!

Shit.

He had a feeling this would happen.

Because Geto Suguru rarely ever had to take multiple takes whenever he was filming - he was no novice in this business. Far from it, in fact. 

Bearing the title of one of the most-watched porn actors in history - and the five-time crowned winner of the most beautiful, as well - the audience loved him, and the directors loved him even more with just how many big, fat cheques he’d rake in easily.

And you?

That gorgeous newbie paired up with him today that was absolutely ruining him. 

“Sorry-” Your honeyed tone snaps him out of his syrupy reverie, and the little smile on your face is so innocent compared to just a few seconds ago. “M’still new to this, so I think it was my fault.”

Yeah, ruining him. 

“Not at all. S’cute.” Geto’s plastering one of his suave grins all across his mean mouth, and without a second thought, he’s thumbing away that translucent little splatter of precum at the edge of your kiss-bitten lips. Wetting the curvaceous pad of his thumb, “Besides, don’t worry yourself, pretty lady. I don’t think a uh- what was it- clan leader would stutter as much as I did.”

And oh, he wished he could sneak in a few more glimpses of your laugh, music to his ears. Wondering what it’d feel like to have it vibrate around his still rock-hard cock. But alas, swiftly, the director’s clapping a hand down on Geto’s broad shoulder. 

“Suguru- my star! What happened back there?” the older man bares him with a toothy grin that said it wouldn’t last there much longer if he made any more mistakes at today’s shooting.

It was the first time in years that he had to have a word of reprimand. And he wasn’t even fucking you today-

“Nothing.”

“Are we sure-”

“Nothing.” Firmer, this time, with a dangerous tinge that no other actor would dare have. His glassy eyes - still foggy from the slide of your tongue, still aching for more of it - fixate sideways on you getting your make-up retouched right beside him. Clearing his throat, “I won’t fumble next time. Promise.”

But shit, only a few seconds before the next take - the high-definition cameras rolling, the heady lighting fixated on the two of you - and he already feels like he’s about to lose it.

“Said you were a rookie, right? You sure about that, screen queen?” he’s leering a slightly-smug grin down at you, the curved edges of his lips twitching at that little industry nickname of yours.

He’d heard it here and there - mainly whenever Gojo was raving about you, but never did he think you would end up being so…so addictive. 

Of course, he’s going to brag to his best friend as soon as this is over.

You’re gifting him with a bratty huff, “I’ve only been making videos for a few months, y’know? So I’ve never had to have a blowjob scene with someone so-” 

And with a gulp, your syrupy eyes flicker downwards at his achingly hard cock - famed for just how massive Geto was. Already so creamy with a glistening coating of precum drizzling down his thumping veins, standing so thoroughly and thickly upright that it made your drenched thighs squeeze. Yearning to steal another taste of that furiously strawberry-blushed fat tip. “-so big.”

Shit, Geto could feel his fattened cock jolt already. 

Hissing, “S-save it for the camera, honey.”

“Okay! Take 2, Act 1 of 1 from Cult Leader Geto.” A ringing voice cuts through your saturated air, and he’s settling back into his poised seated position on that decadently throne-like chair, you on your knees. “ACTION!”

“Messing up such an important mission, hm?” Geto spits, stern voice targeting you at your very dripping core. Sear-like grip making your throat burn, fuming, “Y’know there’s only one way to make up for it, right, honey?”

Your lips wobble oh-so-adorably when he hits them with a splattering smack! smack! smack! of his painfully hard length. Making you mumble, “Wh-what do I hafta-”

And maybe because it was part of the script, maybe because Geto couldn’t last hearing another melodic note of your sweetened voice - he’s shoveling all girthy inches of his swollen cock past your velvety lips. 

Unapologetically.

Filthily.

God…it was so easy to forget all the cameras with your tongue.

Pressing the reddened curve of his weepy cockhead to nestle hot and heavy on your tastebuds, your jaw aches with the sheer weight of his hefty shaft throbbing away comfortably on your tongue. 

And you swear you can feel big, bulbous tears welling up behind your eyes with how every ounce of blood in Geto’s body comes rushing down into his steaming length. Expanding his rotund head to grow even thicker-

“Shit.” he gasps. “Shit shit shit shit-” Brows scrunching, drooling maw falling slack. Every muscle in his hulking body bows to hunch forwards in his chair, until your tight throat was choking around the thick curve of his swollen tip. One attractively tattooed hand splayed out firmly on the back of your head, “Take it- y-yeah, take it why dontcha? If ya wanna make it up to your leader.”

God, he didn’t know if the cockdrunken way you were nodding was even real - but it made him groan just the same. 

Sobbing out a swelteringly hot squelch! of syrupy precum that drips teasingly down the already-messy walls of your mouth. “Heh, maybe ya can even be my s-second-in-command with a mouth like this.”

And he’s giggling out in an almost hysterical way, head throwing backwards when his powerful hips rut up in slow grinds. Back and forth back and forth- that have your now-puffy lips stretching around so widely around his fat cock. 

Struggling. Shit, he’s the biggest you’ve ever had.

Geto already knew his agent was going to be on his ass for veering just the slightest degree off the script.

But he didn’t care about that right now.

How could he? Not when the drag of your tongue was swirling around his steamingly hot girth in languid swivels, over and over fighting to trace every one of his prominent veins thumping angrily inside your mouth. 

You whine at the saccharine sweet taste of his precum shooting down your throat in wet sputters, “S-Sugu-”

Fuck. 

Geto hears himself whimper a pathetic noise as soon as you’re tugging yourself off of his leaky cock, pressing wet peck after peck up the underside of his messy shaft. It’s glossing in glinting lip-prints that he half-wishes he could tattoo. Slipping and sliding to sloppily plant your mouth along the bawling divot at the very end of his rosy pink head. 

“Mhm–” he’s drawling, movements as slow as gliding through molasses when one of his strong legs comes to circle around your body. Muscles flexing so tight that if he angled just right he could squeeze that pretty throat of yours. He bites his lip, “Suck on my ah- tip- c’mon, gorgeous. Heheh, yeah gimme a pretty peck, why dontcha?”

With a smug smirk, he’s guiding through trembly digits to thwack! thwack! thwack! his thick hilt in wet splatters across your lips. Only to figure out that he didn’t even have to bother.

Because your sweet mouth was so ravenously reattaching back onto him, starkly raw lips glissading down the bulge of his Prince Albert. Your deft tongue swivels in such a filthy way down the underside of his slit, cheeks hollowing as you suck. 

“Spit.”

“S’this-” you hiccup, widened eyes pleading. Spitting out a silvery glob of saliva onto the very edge of his tip, “S’this good, sir?”

Fuck, for a second there he almost forget that every one of your lines are scripted. And he deliriously wonders what if would be like if you called him that for real 

“Hmmm, dunno.” His thumb smears across that pool of precum beside your lips - popping it into his mouth tastefully, “Jus’ a bit deeper to make sure. You can do it- c’mon.”

Swallowing up those solidly girthy inches of Geto’s so deliciously. Your nose presses against those drenched tufts of black at his toned pelvis, jittery fingers coming around to massage sultry little circles around his tight, cum-filled balls. 

“Heh, think I prefer ya like this-” he’s restless now. Close. Knitting his brows rudely together, abs clenching mouth-wateringly at every wet gyration of his cock hitting the very back of your throat. And he couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to stop, not even if the director yells cut this time. “-all pliant, n’ shutting up that bratty mouth of yours.” Geto arches his spine so flexibly - a specialty of his - all the way enough to whisper in a hoarse pant of feverish condensation against your ear. “All mine.”

Geto can barely even finish his line - or his train of thought, before with a wracing shudder, he’s cumming and cumming harder than he has in his entire life. 

Oozing out the wettest wads of his thick cum, so much of his wispy white seed gushing across in dripping glides into the cavern of your mouth. Back and forth with every jackhammer. The money shot smearing all down your pretty chin.

And fuck, just the way he can feel it sloshing around in a tidal wave inside your mouth makes him groan out your name.

Barely even registering the way it’ll have to be cut out in editing later, no- all he can think about is how heavenly you were milking him. Twisting your tongue to drag out his hazy orgasm, to swipe up even more of it from his piercing, you blink up in satisfaction.

Letting it overspill. 

“Heh, fuck-” Geto’s tongue was dangerously loose now, mouth curling up into a simpering smile down at you when he’s bursting out in even more velvety ribbons of cum. It drips halfway down your jaw, washing a perfectly milky lipstain on you. Muttering, “Wish I could fuck you- god, I would-”

He’s cutting himself off with a dampened gasp, just as the chilling air on-set hits his hard erection. 

In urgent moves, Geto’s pulling out of your silken soft mouth to drag you upwards with the hand tightened around your throat, crashing his lips into your own with sudden need.

Unsteady. Sodden. French kisses. 

This wasn’t in the script - and you whine at the cool metal against his cushy mouth. A tongue piercing. Shit, he had one to match his dick.

Swirling it across your own lips, Geto hears you moan in that sweet voice of yours just as you taste him - taste yourself on him - and he’s sucking on your tongue just as you did with his cock. Pooling all the dredges of salty seed on his own, before spitting it back out-

“Tell yer agent-” he murmurs throatily, two fingers roughly wrangling your mouth shut. To make you swallow. His popping ears ignore the calls from the director for the scene to be cut. Finally completed. And Geto licks up the excess remnants of cum down your lips. “-to let me have ya again sometime, gorgeous.”

CULT MEMBER SLUT GETS TAUGHT A LESSON BY HER LEADER!

37 million views 1.5 million likes

Top comments:

satoruxstrongest: holy shit idk who im more jealous of ꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱

unicorny: I VOLUNTEER FOR THE NEXT MISSION CULT LEADER GETO

hj.eromytits: guys is it just me or does geto sound EXTRA extra whiny in this video~?

tonykrier: No cuz I totes agree

---

Now, it wasn’t normal for Geto to run home freshly after a shooting and…research his scene partner. To spend what seemed like hours upon hours pouring over every single video and picture you’d blessed his obscene mind with.

You.

An up-and-coming new actress, but already dubbed the nickname of screen queen. Loved by many for that sultry sweet smile of yours and just how gorgeous you were when you were all fucked stupid. 

Everybody wanted you.

And Geto - oh, Geto was out of his mind. 

Shit, he’s thinking through his saturedly needy thoughts, eyes locked on the two sweat-sheened bodies on-screen. It was an earlier one of you and legendary veteran porn actor, Toji Zenin, and the more he eyed the way your bugging pussy so readily swallowed each of his greedily girthy inches - the more he was fucking jealous his agent only booked a simple blowjob scene. Peering at the title-

DILF-NEXT-DOOR GIVES SCREEN QUEEN AN ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.

That should be him.

The wet schwf! of clothes upon skin emanate throughout his penthouse bedroom when Geto unthinkingly drags the soft mountains of his palm down his throbbingly hard erection. Eyeing at how Toji was smearing your sopping pussy lips open, giving Geto the perfect view-

Shit, that should be him.

Holding back a low moan, “Fuck-” he scrambles to hit the camera icon on his trembling phone, all but ripping his pants down to set free his ravaging cock. “God- m’so fuckin’ hard-”

He doesn’t even know who he’s talking to right about now - the audience, or you. 

But all he can think about right now are those sparking stars behind his lids as soon as he runs the solid curve of his thumb along the bump of his swollen head. Still not fully hard, Geto squeezes his fat hilt just the way he remembers you did earlier today.

“S’all because of y-you, y’know?” he’s gritting through clenched teeth, batting those long dark lashes of his right up at the camera. “Why’d you hafta look at nhgh- m-me that way.”

God, his digits were only half as soft as yours were. And he keens at the rough drag of his fingerprints down the sensitive spots at every ride and curve. Melty mind stumbling through every mindless half-thrust into his fist.

Over and over.

God, he felt like a hormonal teenager all over again.

He’s panting - gasping. Every rutting fuck up into his hand leaving his heavy balls clenching painfully, teeth clamping. 

Geto’s never been this needy - this desperate to try and graspingly remember what your moans had sounded like through his phone speaker not too long ago. It’s all he can do to sink his sharp canines down onto his fist, desperately holding back whimpers upon whimpers that threaten to spill out into the open.

Yet, they do, anyway.

“M-make me so fuckin’ horny, honey-” he’s swiping at the lazy trickle of drool down the edges of his drunkenly upturned grin. Puffing away the long, inky hair curtaining his eyes to splay out across the bed. “Such a perfect body ya have- such a perfect pussy. Wish I could fuck it.”

Because that delicious arch in your back was practically burned into Geto’s mind, how your slutty cunt was slobbering down gloss after gloss of your sweet, sweet juices down Toji’s fat cock. He’d been massive - rivaling Geto, honestly - and he couldn’t help but muse whether you’d take him that well, too. 

Would you cry out and beg for more? 

Would you bat your lashes and tell him to slow down- only to huff and puff in that naughty way of yours when he does?

You were…you were so pretty. And all he ever wanted to do was wreck that equally pretty pussy of yours, and ruin your makeup, and you. 

You you you you-

Geto’s wrist aches down his tall shaft, stuttering up and down, he flicks his thumb wetly underneath his sensitive slit. Neatly grazing his manicured fingernail underneath the glazed bump, “I’d ruin ya, y’know?” Geto chokes out, and he doesn’t even have to fake the purring moan in his tone. The way his voice lilts embarrassingly higher in volume and pitch, gliding all the way up to nudge in wet peppered kisses across his chilling piercing. “Would make ya shut up on m’cock- hngh- until ya can feel my piercing branding into ya. Ruin everyone else f-for ya.”

God, the camera was so shaky right about now - and he half-wonders whether he wants to post this. Nothing like the usual professional set-up you’d usually see on Geto’s promotional tweets. 

And then shit, just the thought of you actually seeing this video has him almost dropping his phone onto the dampened silken sheets below. His overly saturated mind liked to think that you’d like it, that you might even slip your own soft hand down into your flimsy excuse of panties.

“Fuck- fuck.” Geto bounces his head back onto the plush pillows, thighs shuddering even further open, catching every pearlescent bead of precum being smeared down his thickening length. Filthy. So fucking filthy. Making him arch- “Look what you do- look how you’ve got me- fuck-”

He was practically humping up like an animal now. Out of control. Each moan breaking into a whine in a way that Geto can’t stop even if he wanted to. 

And the more he thought about you the more-

“Oh h-honey-” One of Geto’s thumb trails their way down to press down at the very middle of the twitchy curve of his balls. Hard. Hiccuping back a mewl of your name, he’s nodding like he doesn’t even realize. “M’gonna cum hah- m’gonna cum, okay? You’ll hafta take it all t-take it hngh-”

And it’s just a few more merely sloppy grinds before Geto’s spurting out in thick streams of cum. So much of it.

He’s fucking his fist like he wishes it was you. It’s making such a mess down his greedy fingers, coating down to his wrist in a gleaming sheen of creamy white. Easier to make him slip up, up, up, and down his swollen, red shaft trying to dredge up something delicious from the very ends of his weepy divot. 

He lets his phone drop, thick thighs straddling upon each side of the screen to jerk his achy cock off like your pretty face was just underneath him. Furious. Fast. A low ah! ah! ah! rasping through each breath.

God, his fingers weaken around his cock. Moving as if on auto-pilot when he circles his trickling wet fingers around his own rosy pink nipples - all glistening down his tattoos as if they’d been laminated, they made for the perfect wet dream - then all the way up to suck on them. Cleaning. Tasting himself.

Fuck, wishing it was your hand.

Wishing you were here.

All Geto could think about is if you were here right now, then he’d swipe his blushing tip down your lips, instead - reel you into a dripping wet kiss just like before. He grunted at just how badly he wanted to taste on your candied tongue again-

Still so sensitive from the shoot with you before, Geto’s breathing out in heaves, pants. Tears prickling at the very ends of his bleary eyes, he bites down furiously on his coral pink lips, trying for the fucking life of him to not cum in blanks right now. 

He does, actually.

Again. And again and again- spazzing cockhead jerking out a few wispy wet ribbons of his seed, before giving way into nothing. And if you listened closely to the crackling audio, you could almost hear Geto whimper.

Yet, he doesn’t even notice until his thumb swipes shakily onto that red end button on the video.

Doesn’t even register until he’s pulling up his infamously lewd Twitter account, the voice of his agent ringing in his pounding ears from today on something about “promo for your upcoming video” with every few hasty clicks on-screen.

Geto posts.

And he doesn’t even glance a second time at the screen before darting back into his browser history, searching ravenously for any more morsel of you he could dig up.

Because Geto Suguru might just be addicted.

@GetoTheCursed: For @ScreenQueen

2.6 million views 364k likes

Top replies:

moresenpaimore: holy shit the lighting? the shakiness? the whimpers? ITS ALMOST LIKE HE POSTED JUST AS HE CAME DADDY YOURE SPOILING US!!1!111!! 

tjzenin: Good taste, kid. - Toji x.

ScreenQueen: <3

---

“Y’look so pretty like this, sweetheart.” Gojo’s angling your head just enough for the blinking camera to drink in that milky trail of slick trickling down the corners of your puffed-up pussy lips. Musing at how it probably couldn’t capture half as how pretty you are with his massive cock bullied snugly into your strugglingly bulging cunt. “Isn’t that right, Suguru?”

“Heh-” The other man only shifts his legs to manspread more comfortably on Gojo’s plush mattress, leaning back on two elbows. “Don’t I know.”

hj.eromytits: ahhh~ a suguru and satoru stream my life is complete~ screen queen is so sexy too~

444stayze: WE NEED MORE COLLABS LIKE THIS SATORU PLEASE

chocho: she’s so…beautiful 

*chocho donated 690 chestnuts*

If Geto Suguru was the king of videos, then Gojo Satoru was the king of streaming. Wracking thousands upon hundred thousands - perhaps close to millions - that watched him strip down and bare the winking camera with his cocky, girthing inches. And today, he just-so-happened to have a special guest.

Two, actually, after hearing about your latest film with each other.

His long-time best friend, and the rookie actress he’d been just as obsessed with lately. And the tons of viewers right now were loving this combination.

Your greedy hips squirm ravenously, jostling Gojo’s cock to swirl in syrupy, circular swivels inside your gooey walls. Yet, you couldn’t do anything with the thick, black blindfold wrapped around your two wrists - a staple of his persona. “G-gojo-”

Smack!

All five of his splayed-out fingers come down harshly in a swat against the curve of your ass, and Geto can’t help but gulp heavily at the sinful way it makes your flesh jiggle. 

Gojo’s tangling a vice-like grip into your scalp - eyes wide, wild, where he’s leering down at you. “Now now, you’re s’pposed to look at hah- me.” he whines. Shit- when had you even turned to look at Geto. “And what was it I told ya to call me?”

“T-To-”

Smack!

“Louder.”

“Toru!” you squeal, feeling his leaky tip brush up in a wet nudge against your bulbous g-spot. Expanding even girthier to hit at that little bullseye over and over-

“Such a s-slutty voice ya got on ya.” His sharp hipbones mashing against tender skin, stifling balls stinging your ass, juddering knees bouncing even faster. It was so fucking addictive sheathing himself inside the tight channel of your cunt. So hot and cozy inside that Gojo has to force himself to rip his line of sight onto Geto just behind you, “Does sh-she always sound so sweet, Suguru?”

And Gojo’s not surprised - not even the tiniest bit surprised - to find that his best friend already has his silken button-up ripped open, ringed fingers stuffed into his too-tight pants. 

Addictive…you were so addictive. 

And he’s almost jealous that he’d introduced you to him on this stream.

Tearing away his clinking belt to knead over his rock-hard erection, drawling the very rounded edges of his fingers down his cupped balls. Squeezing. Hard. Geto looks so utterly like he has to force himself to breathe out something even slightly coherent, “Hmmm, hard to say with the way she was on her knees last time- heheh-”

“Such a dog ya are-” Gojo’s rolling his watery eyes, before pecking a wet glissade of his lips down onto yours. The woosh of donations flood the chat as soon as Geto’s letting out a roughened growl, “Dontcha ngh- a-agree, sweetheart? So mean, hm? The chat certainly seems ta think s-so.”

“Mhm–” you’re crying out - difficult, with the way he was sunken in so solidly inside of you. At Gojo’s sheer mercy. 

Mercy that was slowly dwindling away with each and every slobbering fuck up into your dripping cunt, and you can’t help but let your jaw drop into a needy oh when his ragged thrusts get faster. More desperate. 

Peppering damp pecks along Gojo’s innocently pink lips, “S-so mean, Sugu.”

“Ya hear that?” Gojo swipes his thumbs across your sloppy folds to bear you even further into the camera, and with Geto’s lolling gaze he could just peek the way your sodden hole was gaping widely. How his peaking veins massage your entrance through and forth- “Our girl says you’re a meanie, Sugu~”

candybah: GETO LOOKS MADDD 

k-en.j: she looks so cockdrunk already honestly idk who i want to be here

pumk1nhe1d: Love how Satoru winds him up. Wonder if her poor cunt can take both??

And Geto knew that your voice was absolutely dripping with teasing want, he knew that it meant nothing more than a simple line to get him worked up. But the way Gojo’s jittery arms were engulfing you to stick to him so closely, his knowing smirk flashing Geto’s way had him huffing out a pointed few profanities. 

“Fuck that.” he’s spitting getting up onto two unsteady feet to shuffle even closer to where your bodies were rocking the decadent bed violently. Tying back his dark tresses urgently - and oh shit, that’s when you know he’s serious. And one of Geto’s fingers smack! away Gojo’s, searing his own possessive grip onto the blindfold to haul you against his washboard abs. “Open.”

Fuck, it’s just about all that you can do.

Slopping out your tongue to present your glistening tastebuds - right on par for Geto to be splattering a thick wad of saliva. 

Letting the translucent slick sift across your mouth, and with years in the game, Geto Suguru already had perfect aim. He could’ve already made an easy, clean work of spitting in your mouth.

But, no, he’s speckling wet little messes around your lips on purpose. Swiping it away with the very back of his slender fingers, “Now, would you care to repeat- that?”

Every truncated drag of his moans is punctuated by a ragged rut of Geto’s hips against the globes of your ass. The remainder of his free hands being sure to press your arched body even further backwards into him. 

You feel him throb against your heated skin, his fat girth jostling to make you hump down on everything from the very globular edges of his tip all the way down to where his fat balls were kissing up into you stickily. Gushing out steaming hot wave after wave of precum that formed delicate strings to snap!

Smack!

“C’mon now, sweetheart~” Gojo’s slow tut makes you squeal. “S’not nice to leave someone hah- hanging.”

Batting your teary lashes up at Geto, you’re struggling through your relentless restraints to try and crane up into a kiss. And Geto - ever the bully - makes you work for it, barely moving. “M’m-sorry-”

“That’s not what I asked-” his hot breath puffs up dangerously to fan your ear. Cool rings on his digits burning a blazing pathway up to your neglectedly hardened nipples, making you keen out such whiny sounds when he pinches. “Tell me what you said.”

“S-said-” you’re sobbing out. The double stimulation of Gojo’s ravaged cockheadbumping up into your spongy cervix, and the way that Geto’s thumbs were swirling over in pressurized circles over your tits too much. “-said you were m-mean hngh- didn’t mean i-it ah fuck-”

“Are you sure?”

“You really are s-such a hngh- bully, Suguru.”

“Tch, shut up-” And Geto would never admit the way that he was humping you like such a dog. Panting - heaving, practically - with every sodden grind, his teeth tug harshly on your precious ear lobe. “-at least I’m gonna be the one t-to make her cum.”

Gojo’s rolling his eyes, pecking a sudden crash into the very same spot of your g-spot. “No I will.”

“As if, ya had to borrow my camera t-today jus’ to capture how gorgeous she is.”

Both Gojo and Geto’s lips mesh into yours now, tongues bumping into each other, swirling across yours so lewdly. Sucking and nibbling along any inch of yourself that you would give them. Anything that they could take. 

He’s bucking his hips sloppily, drawing wet gashes between your pre-soaked lips, and nudging against where Gojo was buried so deep. Too much.

Murmuring into your lips, Geto giggles - giggles every-so-drunkenly in a way that made the stream chat flood. “Heh, if ya really mean it then cum f’me, honey.”

Fuck- then, you do.

It’s hitting both you and Gojo like a sudden semi-truck. 

Yelping out a saturated mixture of what sounded like both their names before your gushy walls squeeze tightly. So fucking cozy that Gojo has to stuff one of his long fingers into your quivering hole just to scissor your entrance open, to fuck you through your high.

His fat girth edging you through peak after peak of bliss, your toes curl, mouth still latched firmly with Geto’s. Spazzing cock bawling out a few silvery strings of white down your back - just barely. “My good girl- good- hah- fuckin’ girl.”

“Awww. Look, Suguru-” The other man titters, bringing up his free hand to swipe across your now freshly wet cheeks. “Ya really are a meanie, huh? You made her cry.”

Geto only rolls his dark eyes, that particular remark making him take it out on you - because oh, he might not be fucking you tonight, but it was so utterly fun to rip out those whiny syllables from your pretty mouth. He’s tugging on your nipple with one hand, the other dipping slowly to swat! at your plump clit. “Well, I also made her cum.”

“Hah? No way, that was me-”

“I’ll beat you up right here, right now, Satoru.”

#1 RANK satoruxstrongest: got two special guests! tonight is going to be fun ww `⎚⩊⎚´ -✧

51 million views 4.8 million likes

Top donors:

unicorny: WOAH when Geto SPIT?? And when they were arguing?? My apologies, sir, I did not know you were about that life (she’s so lucky me next)

honey.bunney: LITERALLY MY WET DREAM OH MY GOD BI PANIC I LOVE THEM

king0fcurses: lmfao weak. Invite me on the next stream and i’d show her a better time.

---

God, times like this, you almost hated your profession.

Because yes, despite everything, the pay you received was staggering - but absolutely no amount of money was enough to compensate for the complete and utter asshole that was Naoya Zenin. 

And especially not filming with him.

A nepo baby that had climbed his way through the ranks with the help of his family name; most of his audience came to watch him fail utterly pathetically at trying to boss his co-stars around and ultimately end up whining with just the slightest little squeeze of your cunt. 

To watch him be broken and sobbing for mercy - exactly the way you preferred him. 

Anything but this-

“-c’mon- just one night, baby-” Naoya’s purring voice sleazes across your ears, and you ignore him to clutch your thin robe even tighter around your body. Thankful that the filming and clean-up was finally over. “Promise I’ll have you seeing stars.”

When he didn’t even have you seeing your climax? You want to ask, but unfortunately hold back - for your agent’s reputation, if anything else. 

Plastering on an almost-painful faux smile, “I think we spent more than enough time together on-set.”

With that, you shift off the bed to weave determinedly through the bustling camera staff and the director calling out for the editing crew - you didn’t even know where you were going, at this point. 

But Naoya Zenin was persistent, if not anything else. 

Catching up hurriedly, his fingers tap down the side of your shoulder, gliding over the peaking strap of that pretty pink bra you’d worn just for the shoot today - something special your very own viewers had picked out. 

You stand stock-still in the middle of the room when he murmurs into your ear, “Playin’ hard to get isn’t cute, y’know. Just give in-”

SWAT!

“Excuse me-” You’re grinning through the slight sting at the back of your hand - because oh, it was impossible not to smile at the utter look of shock on Naoya’s sharp features the very instant his hand had been smacked away mercilessly. Fuming. Undeterred, your eyes shift down warningly between his legs, “-before I make sure you can never work in this industry again.”

“W-wait-”

But who would bother to wait before making their escape? Not even looking - not even caring - about where you make your sudden strides to. 

SLAM!

The door closes. Hard. 

And you breathe out a shuddering sigh of relief when the cacophony of noise from outside bleeds away into nothingness, like a stifling little cocoon inside.

Fuck- where had your feet even taken you?

It takes a few blinking seconds at the rows upon rows of skimpy lingerie and outfits for you to realize that you’d shut yourself in the costume room just outside of your current set. And a few more seconds to realize that you weren’t alone-

“Oh!” you gasp. And you don’t even know whether to look - where to not look at the absolute wet dream in front of you. 

Geto Suguru was standing unabashedly in the middle of the room, long hair splayed out across his back - and you could count every swirling tattoo of his. Because he was painfully shirtless. Showing off the sculpted ridges and curves of his muscles that flexed a just a little tighter whenever your greedy gaze was dancing down his bulging biceps, his inked hips, his-

“Cat got yer pretty tongue, honey?”

“Wh-wha-” you sputter. Fingers scrambling upwards to cover your eyes - before realizing how futile that is with how you’ve seen everything already. “Cat got your ability to change in the changing stalls instead of where everyone can see, Geto?”

He cocks his smug head, grinning down at you. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re complaining, though?”

“You’re too much.”

Throwing that thin cotton t-shirt grasped within his digits somewhere off to the side - perhaps to toy with your sanity even more. He crosses his thick forearms, showing off every bumpy vein of his. “Besides- I was here first- helping out ol’ Nanami with a costume. The more important question should be why the Screen Queen of all people is barging in here?” Lips quirking attractively upwards, “Wanted to see me shirtless again so badly, hm?”

You did.

“You wish.” 

You’re rolling your eyes, and you never knew how close someone could get to you just within that split-second. Because you’re already feeling the feverish rush of his ragged breath against your features, skin burning mere inches from yours. 

Close. 

With a gulp, you’re careening back against the velvety walls. “More like wanted to run away from Naoya Zenin and his dates so badly.”

So close. 

“Ah.” Geto’s nodding with understanding. Running a hand through his hair, he easily slips that tiny black tie into his mouth. Moving to bunch up his strands into a ponytail, “Need me to beat him-”

You cut him off, “No no no-” Frantically waving your hands about - partially because you really didn’t want him to leave right now. “I took care of it, anyway.”

“That’s my girl.” 

And something about the honeyed way he hummed those words made your stomach lurch, it had you panting out a needy breath into the almost non-existent space between you two. One of his palms splay out on the wall beside your head, caging you in. Geto’s greedy gaze daring for a mere split-second to the CCTV camera by the far corner of the room - eh, Ichiji is probably on break, anyway. “Then I guess, my next question is…”

God, he’s so mean.

So teasing.

Reaching up to trail down the very end of his pointer finger in-between the seam of your robes - doing practically nothing to hide the way that Geto licks his lips at every sliver of your skin revealed. 

Down between the valley of your breasts, down to your navel. 

Down, down, down.

“-did he take care of you?”

You’re stammering your head into a half-delirious shake, “H-he didn’t make me-”

Geto makes an almost primal snarl at the very back of his throat, darkened eyes widening. He sounds so out-of-breath already. “Make you what?”

“-didn’t make me cum!”

And oh, those words changed everything.

“Then I guess I better make up for my colleague’s incompetence, right?”

Because not only did they have Geto Suguru’s sanity snapping, it had your poor, drenched panties as well - stumbling around your ankles in a useless pile of fabric with only one thorough pull of his deftly curled digits.

“So flimsy.” he’s raising one dark brow, sharp canines glinting against the dim lighting in amusement. “Yet it still wasn’t broken- Goes ta show what a hah- great time ya had with Naoya, huh?”

“Please- D-don’t tease-”

What did you even mean to say- don’t tease you? he wonders. As if he ever could. Half-drunkenly, half-deliriously because Geto couldn’t get fucking enough of anything but the way that your pretty pussy was winking up at him with a glistening sheen. So puckered and ready for him that he wanted to give her a little kiss. 

A French kiss.

“Shhh- better keep ‘er quiet f’me, gorgeous-” he’s chuckling, hurried now that his knees clatter to the floor with a loud bang! Maybe it hurt, maybe it didn’t- Geto didn’t fucking care. “Because m’not going easy on you.”

And with a raw drag of his heaving inhales, he’s drinking in your mouthwatering essence. Greedy.

Glissading up the very slit between your puffy pussy lips, he’s curling his thumb meanly into your sloppy hole. Circling around in practiced, purposeful little swipes. 

“G-Geto–” he’s quietly admiring the way it rolls off of your tongue, and fuck he’s never been one to be cocky over his own name but right now it was so fucking impossible not to be. Batting long, dark lashes from between your trembly thighs, “So mean, y’know that?”

Oh, you little minx. Geto’s brain flashes back to the stream with his best friend-

And he can’t help the sultry rasp of your name at the very back of his throat, the way his ringed fingers come branding down in such a dangerous swat! right against the plump edge of your clit- barely grazing your sensitively beading peak.

A warning. 

“What was that?” he spits. Followed by a literal wad of his syrupy saliva right onto the slope of your hole watching the splatters speckle across your drooling cunt. It felt so possessive. “If I’m so mean, then you should find it- heh, sooo fucking easy to stay quiet, hm?” Wild eyes locked with yours - you’ve never seen this look anywhere in Geto’s films. Anywhere. “Wouldn’t wanna be caught with the big- bad- meanie-”

Shit, it was something to tease him - something to get on your longtime idol’s nerves. But you’d never have expected the effect that it would have.

Because Geto was ravenous when his lips are placing a messy kiss onto your own - your other ones. Meshing a sultry glide of his tongue between your swollen folds, his tongue piercing so cold against your tight ring of muscle.

He wasn’t easing you in.

He wasn’t showing you any mercy or regret when Geto stuffs his face as deeply into the heaven between your legs as he could go. And it almost hurts him when his nose smushes harshly into your sensitive nub, when his jaw aches with just how much farther he couldn’t sink into your pretty pussy. 

Groaning, one of Geto’s splayed-out palms wrangles your ever-weakening legs onto his broad shoulders, the other toying taunting circles sailing all over your clit. Because he wanted more more more-

“Ngh- fuck!” Your unsteady fingers dangle their way through his silken strands - as soft to the touch as they looked. And you tug when you feel the silvery cold metal dart against your melty walls - not that it moved him even an inch. “Fuck that feels so good-”

“I know-” he’s smirking up at you. “N’ it sounds like e-everyone out there s’gonna know, too- heh. I don’t mind.”

God, that’s when it hits you to lower the volume of your honeyed moans. Biting down on the knuckles of your free hand, you level him with a glare. 

“L-look who’s talking-”

Geto only chuckles through the sopping wet squelches he’s reeling out from your cunt. Fingers now dripping downwards with a final pinch to your clit and onto your hole. “S’not my fault your p-pretty pussy’s so talkative, honey.”

“G-Geto-”

“Shhh, lemme hear her talk. Please?”

You gasp when you feel him plowing a trail of his thick digits into your already snugly-filled channel. Such a tight fit with both Geto’s rummaging fingers and his toasty tongue slurping up every bead of your juices. 

They’re swirling around you with reckless abandon, no longer the expert methods and tricks you were used to. No, Geto was pumping his fingers into you solely because he was addicted to the feeling. 

To the loud slurps and squelches resounding from down below with his miniscule movements.

“Heheh, yeahhh- so fucking mouthy she is. Might as well have s-someone overhear her.” He grunts, feeling your gummy walls clamp down on him so vice-like. And it takes him every shred of willpower to finally part his sinful way with your cunt, to drag his lips in a final kiss down your wet folds. “Hold on- got an idea.”

Fuck. 

An idea from Geto Suguru would never bode well for your sanity.

And you were completely right in assuming so, because in a split-second, he’s reaching down to his pants pocket - pulling out a glinting silver lip ring. One that finds itself placed so prettily near the very edge of Geto’s rawly rubbed pink lips. 

One that finds itself wrapped oh-so-deliciously around your clit. Sucking. 

More. 

“Heh, you’re the first one to hah- see me with this new lip ring- congrats-”

“L-lucky me-” you manage to choke out. Hips rutting up and down up and down from the wall, dragging your slobbering cunt all down to make-out with his gorgeous features - and Geto doesn’t look like he’s anywhere but heaven. “It feels- so so- mmpf-”

Without warning, his thorough digits find themselves rudely shoved between your jaw-dropped mouth. Metal rings cold. Thick. Pressing down at the back of your tongue-

“Heheh- what did I say-” he’s dragging his mouth backwards to tug on your weepy clit. Other set of fingers picking apart your sweetest spots inside, ruthless cadence picking up. “Quiet, honey- be quiet f’me like my good girl why- ah- why dontcha?”

Truthfully, Geto himself is finding it so fucking difficult to concentrate. 

He’s so sloppy. So loud. 

He feels like he could combust with every shuddering gush of your sweet, sweet juices down the lover half of his face. So much of it that it’s dripping down into a lewd puddle onto the floor.

And he’s forced to swivel his free hand punishingly into your mouth to stop himself from traveling it down to his pants and creaming all over it like some loser. God- no- he had to make you cum. And fast. Before he loses it. 

“C’mon, my pretty lady-” Geto bursts out in feverish hot pants breathed into your cunt, mouth rearing everywhere. And the stark contrast between his cool lip ring and his mouth made you shiver down your spine in white-hot pleasure. Hot and cold hot and cold- “Can ya hear that?”

Ah, damn. Just your luck - both your ears perk up at the distance resounding of footsteps. Close.

You tug on his long strands. Through muffled syllables, “G-geto–”

Closer.

“S’alright s’alright-” he’s snickering, sounding for all the world as relaxed as ever like he wasn’t two seconds away from being caught with a fellow actress in one of the most scandalous positions for even a porn company. “-jus’ cum f’me. Cum f’me, honey.”

Your cunt was so sensitive. You’re whimpering through his fingers once Geto presses in deeply onto that magical spot. Stars bursting behind your eyes- “M’gonna cum, Geto- so close. M’gonna- m’gonna-”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence.

Because with only a few bustling thrusts of his digits into that very same bullseye, you’re cumming all over Geto’s pretty face. Splattering his chiseled chin in a sheeny gloss of you, so filthy.

And he lets you - oh, he lets you. Why wouldn’t he?

Not when this is all that he’s been dreaming of ever since he had you that one time on set, not when you tasted so sweet spurting your juices down his tongue. Kittenish kisses lapping up every wet gash of slick, his fingers strain with how furiously he’s fucking you through your high.

“Oh- oh, honey— ” The only mantra that Geto can babble out pussydrunkenly, quirking up his hips to grind his rock-hard erection against your thigh. God, he felt like he could cum in his pants right now. “Tha’s right- use me- use me.”

Forcing his jittery fingers down to your hips in a rough restraint, he’s dragging your drooling cunt up and down up and down up and-

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Hey- ya in here?”

Click! In an instant, Geto’s long arm span is reached over to lock the door. 

And god, Naoya’s voice was grating enough that he almost lost his rock-hard erection - if it hadn’t been for that sweetly startled mewl ripping from your throat, that is. 

You scoff, fully ready to give him a piece of your - albeit syrupy, orgasmically hazed - mind to the man outside. But with a sneaky finger signaling you to be quiet, he stands back up to his hulking stature. Growling out a biting, “Only one in here’s me, fuck off.”

Only then comes the sputtering, “Wh-why I’d never-”

“Unless ya want your lil’ idol Toji to hear about how you’ve been nothing but a prick to his favorite actress.”

It’s barely even a second later when you hear those footsteps walking urgently away, and not even two when Geto’s hot breath puffs up against your ear. Words slurring and stumbling over one another,  gliding his tongue across his lower lip to snatch up every ounce of you. “Don’t you worry-” Before sucking on the very same fingers that were buried inside you, “M’gonna ruin him.”

And that’s all it takes for him to remember something else you’d said about that very man just earlier. Something about a date…as if.

“Kiss me- kiss me kiss me please-” Geto’s mouth hovers over yours. Gingerly placing peck after peck- “Fuck- s-suck-” Not even having to finish his sentence with how your heated lips wrapped around his icy lip ring, dripping with your slick. “N’ I was th-thinking- would ya- only if you’d like- wanna make a movie-”

“Yes.”

Hah, Geto grins. Take that, Satoru.

LOCATION: CCTV room, Jujutsu X company building.

Employee count - 1 

“Fuck- fuck-” Ichiji’s struggling to push up his condensation-fogged glasses with one of his slippery hands. Fingers trembling on the keyboard when he’s rewinding the camera footage in the costume room by just a few more seconds. “Oh god- m’gonna get f-fired-”

Again.

And again.

And again and-

“Shit-” he’s shuddering out, head woozy at the sheer overstimulation. Belt clattering against the plastic of his chair for about the nth time this hour. “-she really is a screen queen.”

---

Geto Suguru planned everything meticulously - till every detail was checked off on his seasoned mental list of making the perfect homemade…movie. 

Not exactly something that he’d tried out personally before but- but who better to do it than with you? And he swears with every bit of insincere honesty inside of him that this was totally not because he’d been yearning to feel you cumming all over his cock for months now. 

Yeah…totally not.

So he planned.

And he had everything - the heady candle-lit bedroom, the fresh silken sheets, the soft music playing from a speaker somewhere across the room. The only undecided thing being the name of your little tryst. Prowling over to you sat on the bed - all it takes is a simple shove to spread you out the way he’s been dreaming of. Humming, “You ready?”

Well, everything except-

“G-Geto, how are we gonna make a movie with no camera-”

Shit, that was the last thing on Geto’s mind right now - just about the furthest thing, despite being the very epicenter of his entire career.

Everything he needed.

But no fucking camera.

Oh. 

“Shit.” he’s chuckling - somewhat gingerly, somewhat pussydrunkenly with just a glimpse of you splayed out like this on his plush bed. In another one of you gauzy lingerie sets, leaving barely anything for his overdriven imagination to obsess over. He’s scratching behind his neck, “We can st-”

“No-” And Geto looks just as shocked as you feel right now, skin heating up with embarrassment at your hasty answer. 

But oh, that only makes him take it in stride - makes him slide his hand underneath his velvety boxers to knead greedily at his thumping hot erection. Grinning, “The Screen Queen doesn’t want to be on screen? How shocking.”

But it wasn’t.

God, because he could already see that darkening splotch at your silk drenched panties. The way your lower lip wobbled with so much want - he’d already watched enough of your videos to recognize it by now. 

He’s nosing down your neck, drinking in each of your little shivers. “How do you want me?”

And all you can say is- “I just want you-”

Swat!

The rounded tips of Gojo’s fingers find themselves placing a pretty peck right on your pulsating clit, sending obscene shockwaves bowing your spine. Right into his arms, “You a-always say the sweetest things, honey.”

You hiss at the cool clash of his proud Prince Albert - and the way that one of Geto’s dangling silver necklaces knock into your chin softly. 

And he’s groaning, just throwing his head back at the flurry of stars bursting behind his eyes. Hands gripping onto the edges of his sheets, Geto slides his hips in a slow back and forth against your own. Sandwiching the circular girth of his cock between your sodden folds, they make such a pretty scene. 

“Tell me, pretty baby–” His fingers smear at the wet drizzles seeping from either side of your slit. “-do ya get this wet for the c-camera too or s’it jus’ for me?” But you’re only spewing out a few nods and syrupy yeses, gushing all around him that he can’t help but wonder what it would like bursting with him inside- 

He doesn’t have to bother waiting long.

Now, usually Geto liked to take his time - would prefer to see you crying and breaking while you beg for his cock more than anything else.

But shit, right now he thinks that a second longer he isn’t buried inside your cunt might make him die-

“C’mon c’mon c’mon-” he’s hissing at the elastic stretch of that first ring of muscle. Easing his way in to bulge your sloppy entrance all full with just the very ends of his bulbous tip. “Take it- please, please take it-”

Geto can’t keep the slight tremble out of his tone even if he wanted to - not with the way your gooey cunt was molding around his shape to suck up every inch of him. And god, was there so much of him. It’s like it was never-ending. 

“Shit-” your nails reel red, red marks down the milky plane of his deltoids. “I-I can feel you in my hngh- lungs, Geto-”

He chuckles - all the way into your lungs and he’s not even halfway in, yet? Hell, fuck halfway in, he’d just managed to smear past your swollen pussy lips to rut his fat head inside. Hissing at the clench of your walls around his sensitive slit. 

“Suguru-” he gasps, eyes still wrenched down on the way your cunt was greedily gobbling him up. “P-please if you can call that hah- fuckass ‘Satoru’, then call me Suguru, please-”

It’s all that has to come out of your mouth - a sweet, syrupy “Sugu-”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

You feel yourself gulping down every one of his solid inches, a sheer circumference that you never even thought possible- the friction between your gummy walls and his furiously jackhammering cock having you squeal-

Smack! 

Finally fully inside you, your pussy lips kiss his thickened hilt like long lost lovers, and his heavy balls shift against your ass.

“Don’t- don’t run-” Geto’s sputtering out a slightly broken plea, pure desperation wafting off of him like a heady perfume. It was contagious. And his rough fingers grip tightly around your waist, jousting up the dampening blankets all around your body when he pulls and pulls and pulls- “Fuck, where’d you think you’re going, huh, honey?”

His tone was just dripping with something dark, something you can only sputter and drool to match when every nook and spongy cranny inside is being filled up with Geto’s fat cock. 

And it twitches inside you happily - if heaven was real then it felt like this, Geto muses already thoroughly pussydrunk. 

“M’m-not running away-” you’re pouting a slick-glossed pout up at him. One that he can’t help but crane his neck down in an instant to kiss away. “You’re just s-so big- bigger than on camera-”

Fuck.

You would’ve shut your babbling mouth sooner if you’d known what would happen.

Because the rotund edges of Geto’s cockhead only swells up wider, squirting out even thicker wads of his steamingly hot precum with every mindless, saturated grind. Ones just to fit in- more and more, even after he’s finding himself kissing a wet glide down the ends of your cervix. Making sure to brand that edge of his piercing onto every gooey wall. 

“God- y’really know how to drive me c-crazy-” Geto’s dark hair curtains either side of your head, and you almost don’t notice the way he swipes up two hands underneath your thighs to press you into a mean mating press. Letting you latch on limply while he leaves to swat at one of your hands cupping your pussy, “N’ move that hand- fuck- m’gonna fuck that outta ya.”

And he does. 

The mattress creaks in loud protests when he’s pummeling you with stupidly rude clashes of his weepy tip onto the edges of your g-spot - already expertly mapped out by him now - he’s feeling the sloshy mixture recoil with each thrust. So much of it. “Such a pretty pussy- such p-pretty moans, makes me wanna keep it t’myself-”

God, he’s wanted you for what seems like forever - and he was going to take it.

Panting hotly against your mouth, heavals. Drunk on your messy kisses and the way your pussy lips were bulging with the struggle to take him - but still milking him so needily. “Tie up my h-hair, honey, wanna see that pretty face of yours proper.”

All you can do is blink back the wall of tears that’d made its home in your eyes, trembly fingers taking ahold of Geto’s thin, black hair tie. 

But you didn’t expect it to be so difficult. 

Because any moment you were even slightly close to bunching up enough of his locks, he’s planting a thorough trail of kisses down your cervix. Before ending with the very showstopper - at your g-spot.

And one look up into Geto’s half-lidded eyes told you one thing…he was doing this on purpose. 

Your legs knock-knee in an almost engulfing way around his heavily swallowing throat, muttering out in a tone that you probably thought was threatening - but that Geto found so cute. “I’m onto you, sir-”

Fuck.

Fuck, maybe you were threatening.

He didn’t expect that evil little nickname to slip past your lips - and you didn’t expect Geto to swipe up a devious thumb up your clit in retaliation. Pretty, puckering lips trailing up the valley of your breasts, “I have no idea what you oh- mean, Screen Queen.”

And despite how you were huffing and puffing, your pussy was so clingy all around him. Hips bumping up in slight bucks fully off of the bed in a pathetic attempt to match Geto’s sloppy cadence. 

Completely starstruck at the sheer pressurized thrusts you were being ruthlessly dealt with - and you half-lucidly swear you could count stars over your head.

“Do it-” His lips kiss down your winking eyes, ringed fingers cold against your own now. “-do it, honey- you can do it. Might be the Screen Queen but you’re my slut, arentcha?”

God, it’s like his words were hypnotic - maybe they were.

And you dredge up every single bit of will in your trembly body to push past the way that he was absolutely ravaging you inside. 

Pound after pound of his swollen cock, the chilling cold metal of his dick piercing helping you discover forbidden sweet spots inside you that you didn’t even realize existed. 

So merciless that he’s slipping out a few inches by accident- only to let out a shuddering gasp, eyes shooting almost-comically wide open before sheathing his way in again. Even deeper - you’re being crushed with the weight of one of his knees pressing down on your body.

Over and over-

“Wanna- hah- wanna cum so badly-” your words prattle out delicately. Fingers searing across his scalp, and the way that you tug makes him hiss. It makes him rut, it makes him slam his hips down bruisingly. “Please-”

He leaves a slurping wet kiss on your neck - and another with his fingers onto the hood of your clit. Rolling over with the angled curve of his thumb. Obviously, having you drop a few tresses of his hair- “Heh, maybe t-tie my hair properly n�� I’ll let ya cum- you know s’a staple of my hngh- videos.”

So infuriating, it makes you clench.

That sleazy grin plastered across Geto’s face was unfairly sexy, and so was the way his body was wracking with sudden shivers. Boasting down every curve and muscle, forcing him to fall onto his elbows-

“Hngh- n’ you call me the rookie-” Your smug grin curves upwards at the way that Geto was so tangibly pussydrunk, the way his hips squelch sloppier into your own. The dripping wet noises so obscene that you could feel your cunt drenching even further with each emanating one.

“God, you’re in for it-” he’s spitting out a few slews of swears against your dangling open mouth. Pinching meanly at your clit. “You’re in- hah- you’re sooo in for it-”

But then Geto sees white - and so do you.

Whether from the crashing pleasure of your orgasm, or the way that he was suddenly pumping out thick ribbons of cum into your snugly filled cunt, you have no idea.  And you don’t even have the rational brain capacity to even wonder right now. 

Because Geto was fucking you through your high like he hated you, rutting up like an animal. And you were sure that if his canines were just a tinge sharper, they’d be drawing blood with how hard he was sinking them into the crook of your neck. 

Only deeper, more feral, with every pump of his spazzing cock - gushing out in boatloads of syrupy cum. It thwacks! against the utterly bruised and battered wet surface of your cervix, before dripping down, down, down to your g-spot.

And there’s so much. 

Such velvety volumes that ooze down in creamy dredges from the very purse of your pussy lips to form a milky ring around his ruddied base. It inflates your constricting walls from the inside - and yet, still not enough.

He presses one hand down to feel for that bump where you’d been filled to the brim. Sure to add more - to paint your dripping insides white until he was shooting blanks the same way he’d done to simply the thought of you. The idea makes him moan-

No, it makes him whimper.

“Still haven’t hngh f-finished tying my hair, honey.” Geto’s mouth leaves possessive marks down your neck. And his sensitive hips dart with a simple, sullying gyration, smiling, “Either you hngh finally do it properly like a good girl th-this time n’ we make a movie or- we go see one. This weekend. You and me. Your choice, Screen Queen.”

A/N. This got LONG but OHH PIERCED GETO MY BELOVED.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[unproduciblesmackdown]

skinamarble hornets, i was like i hope my favorite skinamascene has been uplomarinked on youtube....reminds me of that season one marble hornets entry that's the First House Visit and how i saw it described somewhere as like "absolutely nothing happens, & it's terrifying" & it reminds me of the torment of watching as the series was released & Every Time something came out, no matter what happened in like setting, atmosphere, plot, scares, there'd be someone going "ugh another Nothing entry" over the most crucial &/or enjoyable shit so long as it didn't feature [& he's cookin hot dogs on the stove???] & didn't feature it like every other minute for good measure. as though a format that is predictable, like the promise of the same kind of scene in the same intervals of timing, would actually be scary or at all interesting. shoutout to these the entries, or even intervals of time within entries, where "absolutely nothing happens" and it's called suspense in knowing it Could, tension in an unsafe, uneasy, unsettling situation in the meantime, & then also potential followup recontextualization that only creates more tension for later similar material. ("absolutely nothing" happens (of course, actually, things happen, but) in the skinamarink scene save for the literal last few seconds when the "jumpscare" is a very brief change in audio & visuals which is neither actually that loud nor like showing anything scary(tm) (technically a la marble hornets i think people say you can like see an arm extend for a nanosecond but i never catch it if so lol) but rather hits at all because of 8 minutes of suspense & tension & Nothing Happening But It Could) (also bravely standing up like "it's fine that skinamarink has some jumpscares, including the obvious few even jumpier than this" like who cares if it's "easy" necessarily & also that Knowing such startlement can happen ramps up the tension even when it didn't, but it could've. like so)