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megamindsecretlair · 6 months ago

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A Taste of the Divine - Chapter 1

Masterlist Chapter 2

Pairing: Yakuza!True Form!Sukuna x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. slow burn. Monster fuckers unite. Dark elements. Kidnapped reader. Cursing, graphic depictions of violence, implied violence against women but not shown, mentions of blood and gore, Sukuna is aroused by violence. Sorry if I missed others.

Summary: Sukuna is the feared leader of the Itadori clan. There are rumors that he uses a pet beast to get rid of his enemies. Nothing but rooms and locations full of blood and body parts. He happens about a group of men who dared to cross his territory without permission. When Sukuna runs across you, he suddenly finds himself unable to kill you. Not until he figures out who you are and why you were so important as to get kidnapped. He takes over being your captor, whisking you away to his property, where he proceeds to play with his food.

AO3 Link

Word count: 5,763k

A/N: Could not get this idea out of my head to save my life. I hope you enjoy. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @westside-rot @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @umber-cinders @chaos-4baby @soft-persephone

Rain beat against the windows in a steady stream. Cold, neon lights shone in a haze just beyond, painting the sides of the building sunset purple and cerulean. Ads played lazily on the billboards, reminding people that even while sleeping, it was never too late to buy.

Rival clan Kamo had members holed up in a shithole penthouse apartment, awaiting the signal for when they could move. They spent the first few days playing cards and board games. They were strictly forbidden from turning on their phones. From going outside. From doing anything fucking fun.

Yet, after a few days when they were tired of talking to each other, it was only a matter of time before someone broke the rules. There were only four of them. Each low tier members of the Kamo clan, some not even worthy of the association.

They were a low-key crew, handling situations that required stealth and finesse. Like babysitting a sweet little morsel tied up in the bathroom. They were instructed not to talk to you, touch you, or breathe in your direction.

Days passed and the men’s eyes lingered a beat too long, licking their lips as their thoughts ran away on their face, or rubbing their hands together as if they could imagine what your skin would feel like.

While on mission, they used no names. So instead, they numbered themselves. One, the leader, was bald with a stern frown permanently etched onto his face. He currently held the biggest pot of money on his side of the table, flipping through cards with masterful precision.

Three was to his right, a man with long hair that reached well past his shoulders. It was swept back into a half ponytail, the rest running down his back like a black river. Two was next, a shifty and nervous sort of man who couldn’t sit still longer than a minute. Eyes were always on a swivel around the room, looking for potential threats.

Though if Four had anything to say about it, he’d say that Two was snorting the White Dragon and they were left to suffer through it. Four held the worst hand with his cards, but he kept his face neutral. He could bluff with the likes of Three, but One might see through him.

A thump on the roof made them all look up. All except for One who continued to stare at his cards. Two sat up in his seat, moaning and chewing on his nails. He shook his head back and forth, getting more agitated by the minute.

“I told you we should have checked. This doesn’t feel right,” Two said.

Three sighed and rolled his eyes. “You say that about every drop of water that hits the roof.”

Two shook his head once more. “That wasn’t a raindrop,” he said and pointed to the ceiling. Four looked at him, annoyed. This mission was freaky enough without the ghost stories. He took a swig of his whiskey, following the burn down his chest since it was the first interesting thing tonight.

He stood up, getting ready for Two’s freakout to overtake the night. First it was the bird that flew into the window. Then it was the nail he found under his mattress. He went on rants about ill omens and angering the elder gods.

“Then what was it, genius?” Three sighed, tossing down his cards because he also knew that Two was just getting started. A crackle from the lit fireplace drew Four’s attention. He stared at it and briefly wondered if dying by fire was worth the pain.

“We’re too close to his border. How sure are you that this is on our side?” Two asked.

One leaned back from the table, tossing down his cards and rolling his neck. “I know how to do my job,” One said. He folded his arms and stared straight ahead. If Four wasn’t mistaken, he was pretty sure that Four was a hidden synth. Nothing but clockwork and oil pumping through his system.

The first thing Four was going to do when the mission was over, was take his payment and go find a warm pair of legs to sleep between. Maybe this was burnout. Maybe he needed to check out that app his sister sent to him about that crap. She always thought his stress was too high. Always going on about going on walks or getting a pet or doing anything else that didn’t involve being a gangster.

Heh. He owed his baby sister a call soon. Their last conversation ended too quickly when she started talking about an asshole teacher and how Four offered to kill him. Or at least persuade him to watch his fucking mouth.

“How do you not know who Sukuna is? He’s the leader of the Itadori clan,” Two said.

Three laughed obnoxiously and clapped his hands. “Since when do you believe in fairytales? No one’s seen or heard of that made up bullshit. You really think that he has so much curse energy, that he’s lived this long? That he has a secret army of beasts who rip his enemies to shreds?” Three continued laughing, his chair creaking from Three settling into it.

Two cracked a smile and Four poured himself another drink. The first two clearly weren’t doing the job. Four moved back to the table, bored out of his skull. In fact, he should probably check on you. He wouldn’t get paid if you went on and died on him.

Instead of sitting, Four changed directions and went towards the bathroom. The penthouse was decorated in slate gray and mustard. There were expensive paintings on the paneled walls, ceramic statues of bodies twisting, imported plants from all over the world every few feet. It was a pompous, underhanded way to show that the rich could buy anything, even nature.

Four moved down the wide hallway, big enough to park a sedan in and still have room on both sides. He knocked on the door once and your answering gasp was enough confirmation that he needed. Still..,

He opened the door, turned on the light, and looked down at you. You were on your side, curled up on the plush bathroom rug like a pathetic pet. Your sweater was stained and dirty, your light colored jeans worse for wear. The tennis shoes used to be a light color, but were now so dirty that it was hard to tell. The blindfold was still secure on your face.

“You dead yet?” Four asked.

“Untie me and find out, bitch,” you spat at him.

He laughed, tempted to kick you in your fat ass stomach for that. But he doubted you’d feel it. “I’d watch that mouth of yours,” he said.

“Or else you’ll try to stick your shrimp dick in my mouth? Might take me a few tries but I’ll bite clean off if you do,” you growled.

Four laughed again and shook his head. “Never fails to make me laugh, bitch,” he said. He turned off the light and slammed the door. His anger at last getting the best of him. Stupid bitch. He had half a mind to break that reckless streak of yours. To fill your mouth so you couldn’t talk back for once.

You’d been nothing but a pain in his ass since they kidnapped you. You fought like a hellcat, scratching and biting. They had to punch you in the face a few times to knock you out and then drag your fat ass to the van. When you came to in the bathroom, you gave everyone a mouthful. And had been an annoying asshole the last few days.

Four rubbed his shoulders and walked away. He needed the money more than he needed to teach you your place. As Four walked down the hallway, he heard a series of thumps that made him falter in his steps. He looked between each of the closed doors, sealed up like a damn museum in this place.

He walked closer to one door, where he thought the thumps were coming from. He strained his hearing, awareness searching for anything out of the norm. Two and Three were still arguing in the living room but Four was too far away to hear what stage they were in. If Two was standing on the table and arguing his point or covering his ears and screaming loud over the other person.

Four opened the door he was in front of, arms up, prepared for anything to pop out. The room was dark but the window was open, letting watery moonlight shine across the carpeted floor. Looked to be some kind of guest room, all done up in cobalt blue. Four did a cursory sweep, just in case.

He turned around to the shadowy figure before him and jumped, screaming out before realizing that he faced a mirror. His heart skipped a beat as it caught up to the realization that he wasn’t in danger. He stalked closer to the mirror, chuckling as he confirmed with his eyes that he got scared by his own reflection. The other men couldn’t know this. They’d see him as weak and he couldn’t have that.

He tapped the mirror once, for extra confirmation. Two’s conspiracy theory rants were starting to get to him. Next thing he knew, there’ll be Sukuna’s pet beast right behind him. He chuckled at his own thoughts and looked at his reflection. It became darker so he leaned in, opening his mouth to look at his teeth.

The darkness kept going, almost otherworldly so, and Four felt a menacing, thick presence at his back. The aura was indescribably heavy, bowing him at the shoulders. Going lower still. He had just enough energy to turn his head and stare into a pair – no two pairs – oh god – there’s too many red eyes staring at him.

He opened his mouth to let out a scream but a slice to the neck cut it off. His hands flew to his neck, warm spray of blood soaking his fingers. There was nothing to compare to the horror of feeling the heat from your own blood outside of your body. Hands stained red and sticky. Four stared into those red eyes and his last thought was of how Two was actually fucking right this time.

One opened his eyes with a silent gasp. “We are not alone,” he said. He hopped from his seat, flying to the edge of the living room where they had abandoned the majority of their weaponry. They each held their guns at the base of their spines, tucked into their pants. But the bigger weapons lay across the table, thrown haphazardly. They had gotten too comfortable.

The menacing aura was enough to choke him but he kept his mind on the mission. This had turned from a simple kidnapping to a game of survival. No amount of money was worth this, losing his life to the boogeyman. His people had forgotten the old world. Forgotten that the myths were merely legends once upon a time.

The lights shut off as his hands closed around his semi-automatic. Two and Three finally stopped their incessant fighting and grabbed their guns. Gone was the twitching, sketchy conspiracy nut and in its place was a ruthless killer. A ruthless kobun for the Kamo clan.

Three took measured, slow steps around the room. The rain seemed to increase in intensity. But that was only because it was quiet now. The water slapped against the windows. Purple and blue neon light shone in from the windows giving them just enough light to see each other. Or see anything that may have entered the penthouse.

If they somehow found a way to survive the night, they’d have no answers on how the beast got in. How the beast found them. Or how Sukuna even knew that they were on the this side of the boundary.

One hadn’t lied. He was very good at his job. This building was right on the cusp of Sukuna’s territory but it was decidedly in Kamo’s territory. If this was Sukuna’s infamous beastie, then Sukuna was in the wrong this time. Honorless scum.

One swept through the living room, keeping his semi-automatic up and at the ready. He communicated silently with the other two. Where the hell was Four? If he was back there missing with you at a time like this, he’d kill Four himself.

He took off in your direction, intending to check and make sure that you hadn’t escaped. Reaching the door, he opened it and heard you gasp. “What’s going on?” You asked.

“Shut up,” he hissed. If you were too fucking stupid to understand what was going on, then the least you could do was shut that fucking mouth up for once. He closed the door and continued checking rooms, wondering if Four went out onto the terrace for a smoke break.

He made his way forward, the crack of a door catching his eye. He used his gun to nudge the door open, the room too dark to see much of anything. Still, something was off about this room. Some lingering aura that beckoned him even as his brain was screaming for him to turn around and run and never look back.

His boot squelched on the carpet and he looked down. His mind couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His mind said he was looking at a mangled hand but his eyes only saw blood. Red.

There were pieces everywhere. Half a foot. An elbow. One stepped backwards. The evil aura in this room was astounding. The rumors were true. They were actually true. Sukuna did have a beast in his employ and it was here to eat them all.

He turned and ran to the door only to be blocked by a massive arm across the doorway. The massive tree trunk sized arm split in two. Oh god. There were four arms. Red eyes crept open slowly and a wide grin split open in the middle of the beasts’ belly. The monster stood on two legs, at least seven foot tall, and it chuckled. It laughed.

“You’re far from home,” the beast said.

“You’re in Kamo’s territory. When Kamo hears about this…”

The beast chuckled and the deep rumbling laugh was like the crack of lightning outside the windows. “Who’s gonna tell him?” The beast asked.

One was no stranger to fear and he would not pretend as if he were not capable of it. But even as he trembled and gulped around the painful lump in his throat, he stared at the many-eyed beast and lifted his chin.

“Your lord has no honor,” One said. Sweat gathered at his brow, tickling his forehead and he fought the urge to wipe it away. To move.

The beast laughed again. And laughed still as he picked One up as if he weighed no more than a feather. It laughed and laughed as it took big chunks out of One, chewing on him like a snack. Blood sprayed One’s face, hot and sticky and stinging his eyes. His screams were no match to the sound of that maniacal laughter.

You

The second scream had to be the worst one. Maybe because it was coupled by the sound of bone-chilling laughter. Something cold and cruel. Your arm was killing you from laying on your side but you were finding it difficult to roll over in this bathroom.

The nauseating perfume clung to your nostrils and made it hard to breathe around its cloying scent. Why couldn’t these idiots kill you and call it a day? You hated being at their mercy. Hated the way they casually joked about slitting your throat or teaching you how to respect your betters.

Assholes. You’d be a liar if you weren’t enjoying the sounds of their screams. But at the same time, you didn’t want to meet whatever the hell that thing was. You prayed that you’d remain invisible, small, insignificant. Not worth whatever that thing’s gaze was. Surely it was some sort of vengeful god. Malevolent beast come to feast on the world.

You couldn’t draw attention to yourself. Couldn’t make a sound. In case the beast was capable of turning the knob, opposable thumbs letting you know that the beast was far scarier than previously believed, you wanted to remain on the floor. Better yet, you needed to get somewhere you could hide.

Your options were limited. There were no other sounds outside your door. You knew that you were in the bathroom so you rubbed against the floor until you could heave yourself into a sitting position. You were out of breath, but you had to keep going. Had to get into the tub.

Hell, what was worse? The silence or the screams?

You got to your feet and steadied yourself. You were woozy. It’d been too long since your last meal. Your fault. You couldn’t take your death lying down. You fought and cursed and insulted their dick sizes until you were blue in the face. They retaliated by withholding food.

You’d take that over the way they knocked you out. Hitting you like a grown man. Your jaw still stung from it. Your skin would surely be darker with a bruise the size of a fist. The way their hands wandered while they checked you for weapons, tied your hands behind your back, and shoved you into a musty van. How they laughed over your figure as they pretended to struggle with tossing you into the bathroom.

You didn’t know when they put the blindfold on but had to be when you were out cold. There was no telling what they could do while you were sleep so you learned to sleep lighter, waking up at any little sound. So far they weren’t hurting you. You couldn’t imagine why. However, you’d have to stop provoking the last guy that came in here. He was perilously close to breaking and you didn’t want to be around for it.

You felt behind you for the edge of the tub. Rich people’s apartments like these usually had a tub on one side and a shower on the other. As if it was some subconscious misogyny bullshit about women taking baths and men taking showers.

You scooted further down, tennis shoes scraping against the tile as you tried to figure out how you were going to get into the tub safely and quietly. You weren’t even sure that you’d be hidden from the door. But you had to do something. Had to try at least.

You lifted one leg and got into the tub as another blood curdling scream split the air. You were shaking with fear while at the same time feeling vindicated. Fuck those bastards. If you’d survive, you’d never take your life for granted again.

The sound of wet splatter hit the walls and you wondered briefly if a window opened somewhere. If there wasn’t rain pouring all over fancy furniture. You got your other foot into the tub and then sank to your knees, getting down into the wide tub and turned on your side.

It wasn’t perfect. And you didn’t want to think about what kind of germs you were kneeling in. But beggars couldn’t be choosers.

You waited. You jumped at every sound. Every scrape. Every knock of wood. There was a final scream as the last of your captors went silent. His screams still echoed in your ears.

Your heartbeat thumped steadily, shifting your awareness inward. You ached all over. Your shoulder was killing you. Your stomach pains twisting your insides. You had a faint ache in your foot and you weren’t sure if you sprang it during your last escape attempt.

How the hell did you end up here?

It was the question that rang through your mind every so often when you weren’t thinking about escape. How did you end up kidnapped, taken, and held against your will like this?

And the sick part? No one would know. You had a job where you set your own hours, the perfect introverted job. You didn’t have to talk to others when you didn’t want to. Didn’t have to set alarms for when you went to sleep or stayed up. You followed your body’s natural rhythm and was damn happy with your solitary life. You had friends, but they knew about your need to disappear sometimes. Go radio silent while you work on your special projects. Or pigged out in front of the TV.

So here you were, stuck between how you were going to escape or how you ended up in this position. You lived a normal life. You didn’t go out of your way to hurt others. You gave money to the homeless and smiled at the janitorial staff. You weren’t perfect, but fuck. You didn’t deserve this shit.

Thumping steps traveled down the hall and you clasped your lips shut, throat shaking with your need to cry. You needed to alert someone, anyone, to come and help you. Or at least untie you so you could have a fighting chance. How pathetic it was to die on your back, tied up, and at the beasts’ mercy.

The steps got closer. That aura. It was so intimidating. Sweat gathered on your brow, fear like icy spikes in your stomach. There was no way that you were getting out of this alive. With an aura like that, the beast could likely smell the fear on you. Lead it straight to you as if you had rang the dinner bell.

You were so stupid. You should have used your remaining time to find a way to cut through the zip ties behind your back. Found a pair of scissors or clippers. Anything to get your hands free. Ah well. Didn’t matter this time. Because whatever it was that was outside of your door, you had no way of defeating such a creature.

Sukuna

You smelled delicious. After dispensing with the four-man crew that dared cross into his territory earlier in the week while traveling to this dump, Sukuna licked blood from his lips as he shrunk down from his true form.

He hadn’t intended on striking against the Kamo clan for at least another two weeks. He’d been in the middle of his usual reconnaissance, following the habits of his enemies before pinpointing when to strike.

These four were barely worth the effort. A small time, petty offense. But the rules were the rules and he had to enforce them. He grinned, picking meat from his teeth as he thought how these idiots still haven’t figured out that there is no Sukuna’s beast. He was the beast.

He had no qualms about eating his enemies into submission. Fighting for every strip of land, every pulse of illegal activity in the country, every dollar to join his coffers. And he’d be damned if even one cockroach stepped an antenna out of line.

What he did not expect was the tasty scent of fear wafting from the bathroom. A stowaway. The imbeciles had hidden you somehow. Oh, that delicious scent. He followed it, already growing hungrier by the second.

His black suit was pasted to him, slick with the blood of the four insignificant humans. Let their people find them like this. Ripped apart, Let the rumors grow. The beast. The beast.

He approached the door and he sensed that you sensed him. Your body was shaking, teeth clacking. He could hear you through the door. He was getting harder by the minute just thinking about it. He pictured where he’d start first. If he’d bite your neck. Or somewhere he could still make you scream. He wondered what you’d sound like.

He pushed on the door and it gave way under his hand. He left a bloody handprint on the door as he swept into the dark room. His eyes adjusted to the dark, detail starting to fill in as his eyes relaxed.

There you were. Sukuna chuckled evilly as he approached. You were too damn good. Each second brought a fresh wave of fear skittering down your spine. He inhaled deeply, mouth salivating with the thought of ripping you to pieces.

You were cowed in the bathtub. Sukuna grinned wider before he really took you in. Your hands were bound behind your back. You also had a blindfold on. Your clothes were dirty and stained, a strange odor emanating from you. Your shoes looked like you’d been marched around in mud for the past few days. Your hair was wild and unkempt, riotous thick hair escaping your plaits.

His smile disappeared. You had already been kidnapped. You weren’t part of their crew. You were a victim. Sukuna’s curiosity peaked. It wasn’t every day that he ran into this situation. He was no hero. Whether lord or pauper, a tasty meal was a tasty meal. But the urge to eat you was growing fainter the longer he took in every detail he could about you.

What did you do in order to get kidnapped by these thugs? What was so special about you? You’d clearly been here a few days and you were still alive, untouched. You were important to them for a reason.

“Well?” You asked.

Sukuna was taken aback by the sound of your voice. He could smell your fear and yet…you dared to talk to him?

“Quit playing around and kill me, I don’t have all day. Or night. Whenever it is,” you huffed.

Shocked, Sukuna laughed. Hell, he hadn’t been this surprised in a millenia. “Who are you?” He asked.

“I’m a nobody. Are you going to kill me or not?” You asked.

Sukuna chuckled again, sucking blood from his finger. “Pretty eager to die,” he commented.

“Not very eager to wonder when it’s coming. The wait is the worst part,” you said.

There was a hitch in your voice. As if you were no stranger to waiting or being disappointed. Sukuna tilted his head. This was bizarre. It’d been a long time since he felt like this, interested in something other than eating at the moment. You couldn’t see him. You were right to be afraid but still had the audacity to talk to him like that.

He had half a mind to break your spine here and now. Rip your head from your shoulders. Suck the life from your heart. His fingers twitched with the insatiable need to shred. Throat burned with a hunger that never truly faded.

He stepped closer to you, stared down at your pathetic form on your side in this tub. It’d be so easy to lift his boot and crush your skull. So easy to snuff the spark of life that kept you animated.

But he found himself hesitating. Withdrawing his presence. You gasped audibly, catching your breath. It was a wonder you held out as long as you did. He’d seen people have entire heart attacks after enduring his aura for too long. But not you.

“Who are you and why did those men hold you captive?” Sukuna asked.

“I don’t know. I told you, I’m a nobody. Just an insignificant bug,” you said.

A burning in Sukuna’s chest made him want to correct you. To ensure that you’d never talk like this about yourself where he could fucking hear. He grimaced and scowled. What the hell kind of thoughts was he having?

He lifted his hand, reaching out over your form. He’d just snatch you up like he did the others. You were their victim and it wasn’t terribly your fault for crossing boundary lines with them, but well. He couldn’t let you go.

What if you talked? What if your harmless story caught on the news like wildfire, spreading, until the legend of Sukuna’s pet beast was no longer feared. The real gangsters knew. No one fucked with him or his clan and lived to tell the tale.

He had to end you right here and now. Go on and do it. Be done with it. Separate your head from your body. Again, he was unable to harm you. There were too many questions in his head. He was having fun not being the smartest person in the room at the moment.

He growled and grabbed the front of your sweater. You yelled out, kicking your legs as Sukuna lifted you higher, more at eye level with himself. You scrambled, kicking and kicking.

“Put me down!” You screamed.

Sukuna laughed. “Aren’t you scared?” He asked.

“I’m terrified!” You yelled.

“Then how do you bark orders with the same mouth that should be begging for mercy?” He asked.

“What mercy? Go on and kill me and be done with this bullshit,” you said. You were still flailing but no longer screaming in fear.

You were fun! He scanned your body, looking for some source of trickery. Some hidden agenda. He stretched his awareness searching for a hint of your aura to reveal something that explained you. Some part of your genetic makeup, some part of your clothing or jewelry able to repel creatures like him.

Nothing. You wore nothing, you had nothing, you were nothing. And he still had questions. He wanted to know more. His thirst for knowledge was almost as large as his thirst for blood. He should want yours. But even yours smelled insignificant.

“Who are you?” He asked once more, voice soft as he regarded you. You didn’t make sense and it was driving him nuts. Driving him to the point of not wanting to solve you at all. He’d rather toss you into the nearest fire and call it a job well done.

Tonight, at least, his curiosity got the best of him. He’d figure out who you were and what you were keeping from him. Then he’d get rid of you.

“I’m nothing, a nobody,” you responded. Your lips parted and he felt a strange tug in his chest. Another weird sensation he hadn’t experienced in hundreds, if not thousands of years.

“You’re coming with me,” he growled. He half dragged, half carried you out of the room. You didn’t fight him or scream. You didn’t try to tug yourself free. You kept up as much as you were able as Sukuna left the penthouse suite of the Kamo clan. He didn’t have to worry about security cameras as he turned off power to the whole block.

Rain pelted the both of you, soaking his shirt. Rivulets of red dripped from him and disappeared into the nearest drain. He ran towards his car at the end of the block, shaking you in his haste to get to his car. His hair plastered to his face and he growled. He didn’t have enough hands to move his hair from his face.

It may be the dead of night, but that meant little to a world still guided by its misconceptions and folktales. They told themselves stories about being safe because the government told them that they were. Nevermind the fact that the pent up anxiety they pushed down, the suppressed emotions, created a legion of curses to haunt the natural world for years and years to come yet.

He couldn’t shift into his true form over hair in his eyes. Too many cameras. Too many onlookers. He pushed you into his car and you finally yelped as your shoulder hit the side of the seat.

He quickly crossed in front of the car and got in, starting it, and tearing off down the street in a whirl of tires and smoke. The sound of the windshield wipers were the only source of sound.

Sukuna kept glancing at you. At the way the streetlights and ads shone periodically across your face. It was maddening to see. And yet all you did was pant for breath. Your lips were parted again. Were you doing it on purpose? What the hell was wrong with you?

He could tell that you were still scared. Still nervous to be around him. But there was a soft acceptance in the way you didn’t mouth off or ask a million annoying questions. You were an unassuming presence beside him and it was a feeling he wasn’t used to. Couldn’t name.

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to arrive at one of his many penthouses. This one was in the dead center of the city. If his enemies got through his defenses and reached the middle of the city, well then, they deserved to take their shot at him.

He pulled into the private garage, turning off the engine and looked over at you. You licked your lips and he followed the movement, the glide of your tongue darting out from your mouth. Sukuna tore his eyes away with a scowl.

He got out of the car a little too roughly. Yanked open the passenger side door a little too harshly. Grabbing you out of the seat with too much force. He slammed you against the car as he closed his door. Then, he dragged you towards the private elevator.

No cameras. Exactly what he needed. He rode the elevator straight to his penthouse. It opened out into a spacious foyer decorated in black. He dragged you inside, growing impatient with your human body unable to keep up with his stalking gait.

He knew the perfect room to throw you in too. Sometimes Sukuna liked to play with his food.

He pushed you into the small room that had a million cameras set up inside. The room was decorated in an off white subway tile scheme. There was a bunk bed held up by chains drilled into the wall. There was a private bathroom. He found that allowing that little bit of decency made humans think he was merciful. It made betraying them that much more delicious.

You fell to the floor on top of your bad shoulder and cried out. Sukuna laughed at your pain and shut the door.

“Why won’t you kill me?!” You yelled, loud enough to be heard through the thick, reinforced door. No small feat.

Sukuna turned and looked at you through the checkered plexiglass window. He smiled, grin spreading across his face and likely making him look feral.

“The fun’s just getting started, princess,” he said. His haunting laugh echoed throughout his apartment as he left you alone for the night. Tomorrow, he’d make sure that you knew whose control you were under.

Masterlist | Chapter 2

119 notes · View notes

headmates-for-you · 2 months ago

Note

helloo!! could we have a subsys of these moodboards? also ty other moodboard subsystem requesting anon we had no idea how we could put images in requestss..

https://files.catbox.moe/ytjuad.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/wy6jgm.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/pp7bn4.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/zurq3q.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/6cjgck.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/k2bo65.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/29bl98.jpg https://files.catbox.moe/dhzpgi.jpg thank u sm if u do thiss!!!

whew this took a while but they were all so cool! I hope they turn out just as cool in your head -🪓

TW: smoking, mild eye strain

all boards included below for reference

Name(s): Gemini, Local, Mandela, Walten

Age(s): 19-37 ageflux

Pronouns: it/its, glitch/glitches, stat/static, error/errors, screen/screen, ana/analog, hor/horror

Gender(s): analoghorrorgender, analogender, local58ic, cryptix

Orientation(s): aroace

TransID(s): transloner, translonely, permaagoraphobic, transpeoplehater, transhater, transharmed, transharmful, permascarred, transnoeyes, staticamian

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: teratophilia, somnophilia

Emoji signoff: 🌀📺

Positive trigger(s): analog horror

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Smile, Mold, Bright, Dodger (the shade of blue in the images)

Age(s): 12-14 age slider

Pronouns: he/him, kid/kids, dream/dreams, one/ones, cat/cats, weird/weirds, 🩸/🩸’s, ⭐️/⭐️’s

Gender(s): weirdcattic, catkidweirdcoric, weirdcorestalgic

Orientation(s): bi

TransID(s): transweirdkid, transweirdcore, transaesthetic, transcatboy, transdreamstate, transharmed, transautistic, translayeredvocals

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: teratophilia, odontophilia, musophilia

Emoji signoff: 🌀✨ or 🌀🎵 or 🌀🦷

Positive trigger(s): Sodikken, Garfield

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Walle, Citrus, Camera, Marble

Age(s): 23-26

Pronouns: it/its, they/them, she/her, he/him, beige/beigeself, star/stars, clown/clowns, cam/camera, mar/ble/marbleself, cot/cotton, dia/diamond, shop/lift, 💎/💎’s, ♦️/♦️’s, 🔷/🔷’s, 🔶/🔶’s, 🥯/🥯’s, 🙂/🙂’s, 🛍/🛍’s

Gender(s): liminalgender, pastelclowncoric

Orientation(s): aromantic pansexual

TransID(s): transclown, transclowncore, transshoplifter, transartist, transcontcreator, transdropout, transbeigeaesthetic, transsadboi

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: salophilia

Emoji signoff: 🌀🍬 or 🌀🕯

Positive trigger(s): weirdcore, clowncore, clown related horror

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Chip, Cash, Vegas

Age(s): 27-33 age slider

Pronouns: he/him, die/dice, cas/casino, rou/roulette, red/reds, black/blacks, cash/in, card/cards, bright/brights, light/lights, 🎰/🎰’s, ♥️/♥️’s, ♦️/♦️’s, ♠️/♠️’s, ♣️/♣️’s, 🃏/🃏’s, 💡/💡’s, 🎲/🎲’s

Gender(s): croupian, casinomasc, arcardian

Orientation(s): acheillean

TransID(s): transdealer, transstaff, transcasinoemployee, transmonotone, transOCD, transgambler

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: masquephilia, high stakes

Emoji signoff: 🌀🎰 or 🌀💵

Positive trigger(s): casinos, bright flashing lights, gambling

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Rhett/Rhettro, Check, Dice

Age(s): chrono 49-56, trans 23-24

Pronouns: she/her, he/him, they/them, ret/retro, ne/neon, 🎲/🎲’s

Gender(s): dricadic, glowparcadegender

Orientation(s): heteroflexible

TransID(s): transage, transgender, transera, perma70s, perma80s, perma90s, transrollerskater, transdecade, transteen

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: none

Emoji signoff: 🌀🎲 or 🌀🛼

Positive trigger(s): rollerskating, rainbow and black checkerboard

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Comic, Jest, Primary

Age(s): ageless

Pronouns: it/its, joke/jokes, clown/clowns, silly/sillies, fun/funs, color/colors, ha/has, pri/mary, block/blocks, ❤️/❤️’s, 💛/💛’s, 💙/💙’s, 🎈/🎈’s, ⭐️/⭐️’s, ✨/✨’s, 🌀/🌀’s

Gender(s): clowncomfic, clownslushie, clowngender, kidcoric, cleoncade

Orientation(s): pan

TransID(s): transclown, permasilly, plasticscentic, transsillylittleguy, transADHD, transautistic

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: none

Emoji signoff: 🌀🎈

Positive trigger(s): clowns, clowncore, circus music

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Alette, Feyre

Age(s): chrono 247, trans 14

Pronouns: fae/faer, mush/mushroom, spark/sparkle, enchant/enchantment, magic/magics

Gender(s): faegender, fairygender, faidenmollic

Orientation(s): lesbian

TransID(s): transage, transwings, transmagic, translover, transloved, transsize (smaller), transenchanted, transrainbowhair

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: mycophilia, dendrophilia

Emoji signoff: 🌀✨ or 🌀🍄

Positive trigger(s): fairy/fae related things, rainbows

Faceclaim:

Name(s): Haniel/Hani, Seraph

Nickname(s): Skies/Sky

Age(s): chrono 14,632, trans 20

Pronouns: it/its, pray/prays, sin/sins, angel/angels, sera/seraphim, wing/wings, cloud/clouds, mir/miracle, wind/winds, ☁️/☁️’s, 🌤/🌤’s

Gender(s): angelx, angelboything, seradreamer

Orientation(s): aromantic demisexual

TransID(s): transage, transangel, transhuman, transfaith, transharmed, transOCD, transfallen

Source(s): brainmade, moodboard based

Paras: angelophilia, demonophilia, zeusophilia

Emoji signoff: 🌀☁️

Positive trigger(s): cloud watching, angel iconography

Faceclaim:

#build a headmate #build an alter #headmate creation #alter packs #headmate pack #pro transid #pro rq 🌈🍓#transplural #rq 🌈🍓#pro transplural #transid #transx #subsystem

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alarawriting · 11 months ago

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I Suddenly Found Myself In Class With Amnesia, but I'm the Teacher?!

Experimenting with trying to write in "light novel" style despite being an American who writes in English.

****

I couldn’t tell you what the last thing I remembered was, because I couldn’t tell what order any of them had happened in. Was the last thing I remembered sitting in the back of the English classroom, gossiping with Suzy and Chantel, quietly enough that our half-deaf and eighty percent dead old English teacher couldn’t hear us? What about that moment in science lab where I had a beaker and I was pouring liquid into a retort and then there was a bright light and a boom? Or could the last thing I remembered be the moment where I was crossing the street in front of the high school, and I had my head turned because I was talking to my friend Rob?

I’m a big fan of portal fantasy. English, American, Japanese, it’s all great. Someone walks through a closet and finds themselves in another world. Or they get hit by a car and they wake up in a strange place full of magic. Or they die and get reincarnated as a cute little baby. Usually in a strange place full of magic. Most of these stories involve strange places full of magic.

That might have been fun, if that had been what happened. But no. I suddenly found myself standing in front of a room full of high school students that were filing in the door and finding seats.

Was I giving a presentation? I looked around, but there was no teacher. And then I looked down at how I was dressed – a plain blue blouse with a little pleating, and a very pleated, dark blue skirt, with sensible flats like my mom might wear, and pantyhose, like I would ever wear pantyhose. And then I looked up again, at the students, who were looking at me, and I realized that while they were mostly wearing T-shirts and jeans, the colors and styles were all wrong. Lots of neon stripes, and strategic cuts, and all the sneakers were either black with fluorescent stripes of some kind, or bright colors. And several of the boys were wearing pink. And none of the hairstyles looked like anything me or my friends would be caught dead in.

I reached behind my head and found that my hair was in a bun. In the last things I could remember, my hair was in a pixie cut. Pixie cuts cannot be made into buns. Somehow time had passed that I couldn’t remember. A lot of time.

My hands looked normal. No rings. But my fingernails weren’t chewed. There wasn’t any nail polish on them, but they were neat and clean and didn’t look like fingernails I might have.

The students weren’t looking at me the way students look at other students who are up at the board to do a presentation; they were looking at me sullenly, or expectantly.

I realized then to my horror that I was the teacher here.

If I was the teacher, I absolutely could not have a panic attack, even though I felt like I was about to. I also couldn’t suddenly run off to the bathroom – in all my years of school I have never seen a teacher do that at the start of a class. Teachers always present themselves as perfectly in control, without basic human needs, or else the class senses weakness and eats them alive.

This was exactly the kind of situation you might think to yourself, I’m having a bad dream. But my feet hurt. The shoes were annoying me. I have never noticed how my shoes feel, in a dream. And I was wearing an underwire bra, which was digging into my skin under my breasts. This was not a dream; I don’t dream up those kinds of details.

So. Somehow I was the teacher. I had no idea what I was teaching. I had never wanted to be a teacher – I’d planned to be a marine biologist. A quick eyeball around the class didn’t give me any hints; it was a very, very generic classroom. I did have a whiteboard with markers instead of a chalkboard, and the students didn’t have notebooks in front of them; most of them had something that looked like a laptop monitor, except smaller and without a keyboard, like a really big cell phone. A few had pens, except they were probably styluses for writing on the laptop monitor things, somehow, because without paper I couldn’t imagine how they could use those as pens.

No one was taking out a textbook, either. Seriously, how was I supposed to even guess what I was supposed to teach?

I could run off, I thought. This wasn’t actually my real life. I wasn’t a teacher. I was a high school student. This had to be some kind of Freaky Friday craziness where I’d swapped places with a teacher, somehow.

But… that was a ridiculous idea. Whereas the idea that somehow, something had happened to my brain and I’d suddenly lost years of memory and started thinking I was still a high school student when in fact I was a grown adult teacher… was possible. Implausible, and I didn’t like the idea at all, but it was more likely to be true. And if it was true, that meant this was my real life. This was my real job. And I’d be fired if I admitted I’d suddenly had some kind of brain damage that wiped out my memories of however many years it had been since I was a high school student. Somehow I had to fake my way through this, at least long enough to figure out what was going on.

The bell had rung a minute ago. The students were, mostly, pretty quiet, looking at me expectantly. I’m sure my lack of responsiveness was starting to seem weird.

I had to do something quick.

“We’re going to do something different today, students,” I said, wondering, as I said it, if I or the person whose life I’d stolen said things like “students” to address the class. “Let’s pretend I have total amnesia. I walked into this classroom, and wow! I don’t know my name and I’ve never been here before. Write me a short essay, in your own words, about what we’ve been learning for the past couple of weeks. Fill me in! Pretend I don’t know anything!”

#im the teacher #english language light novel?#wip

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asenloby · 2 years ago

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5 DIY Neon Sign Home Decor Projects you can do at Home

by Nisha Jangir

Neon signs have been a popular trend in home decor for quite some time now. They give any area a dash of retro charm and can make it into a hip, modern setting. A personalised neon sign, yet, can be pricey to buy. The good news is that you can create neon signs at home using a few inexpensive materials and tools. These are five ideas you may complete at home to decorate using neon signs.

Neon LED sign and wire: Flexible LED Neon tubes are among the simplest materials that can be used to make a neon sign. These lights come in a variety of colors and are twisted to create the design you want. All you need to get started is some wire, pliers, and LED neon lights. The wire can be used to form words, symbols, or even shapes, to which the neon tubes can then be attached with glue or tape. Plug in the lights when you're done and watch your creation come to life.

Electric neon sign: Another excellent alternative for creating your own neon sign is EL, which stands for an electroluminescent wire. When an electrical current flows through it, a thin, flexible wire turns on. If you bend the wire and attach it with tape or glue, you can create the design you want. You'll need a battery to power the EL wire, which you can attach to the back of your sign, to power the EL wire. EL Wire is available in a variety of shades and can be a wonderful way to add a splash of color to your decor.

Neon Colors: A vibrant splash of color to your decor can also be achieved with neon paint. It can be applied to a canvas or even a wall to make your neon sign. You can use stencils or draw your design by hand to create it. Once your design is complete, let the paint dry before adding a black light to make it shine.

Neon-tape artwork: An excellent substitute for conventional neon lights is neon tape. It is simple to use and offered in a number of colors. Either use the tape to draw your design directly on the wall or draw it on a piece of paper and then tape it to the wall. Because the tape is self-adhesive, it is simple to apply and remove without leaving a mark on the wall. If you want a temporary neon sign, this is a wonderful choice.

String Neon Art: String art has been a well-liked DIY craft for a while, but utilising neon string will up the ante. You can draw your design on a canvas or even a wooden board. Once you've finished designing, hammer some nails into the design to hold the string in place. Watch it glow after you're finished by hanging it up.

In conclusion, creating your own neon signs at home is a fun way to give your interior design some individuality and color. Your own personalised neon sign can be made at home using a few basic pieces of equipment and supplies. These tasks are enjoyable, simple, and only take a few hours to complete. Why not try it out and see what kind of neon sign you can produce?

#decor #home decor #house decor #room decor #neon lights #neon sign #led neon signs #led lighting

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epiceventchronicles · 3 months ago

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10 Steps to Plan a Perfect Birthday Party Event

Planning a birthday party can be exciting yet challenging. Whether for a child, a friend, or a family member, a memorable celebration requires thoughtful preparation and attention to detail.

How to Plan an Unforgettable Birthday Party

A birthday celebration is a joyful gathering that brings friends and family together to honor someone’s special day with love, laughter, and cherished memories. It’s a time to celebrate life’s milestones, filled with joy, fun activities, and heartfelt moments.

Step 1: Choose a Theme

A well-chosen theme sets the tone for the entire event. Here are some popular ideas:

For Kids: Superheroes, princesses, animals, or a favorite character

For Teens: Neon party, 90s throwback, or music-themed events

For Adults: Elegant black-tie, Hawaiian luau, or a retro vibe

If you’re working with a birthday party event planner, they can help you customize every detail to match the chosen theme.

Step 2: Set a Budget

Decide on your budget early on. It helps you determine how much you can allocate to different areas like venue, food, and entertainment. A well-defined budget ensures that you don’t overspend and can still create an unforgettable experience.

Step 3: Select a Venue

Choose a venue that complements your theme and suits the guest count:

Home Parties: Great for small gatherings; intimate and easy to manage.

Outdoor Venues: Perfect for children’s parties, especially if you have activities planned.

Rented Venues: Ideal for larger gatherings, offering flexibility with decorations and space.

Step 4: Create Invitations

Invitations set the first impression, so make them count! Digital invitations are cost-effective and easy to distribute, while printed ones add a special touch. Include the theme, date, time, location, RSVP details, and any specific instructions related to the party (like a dress code).

Step 5: Plan the Menu

The menu should reflect the theme and cater to all dietary preferences. Some ideas include:

Finger Foods: Mini sandwiches, sliders, and fruit skewers

Themed Desserts: Customized cupcakes, cookies, or a cake decorated to match the theme

Beverages: Non-alcoholic punch for kids or mocktail stations; signature cocktails for adults

Step 6: Organize Fun Activities

To keep guests entertained, plan some engaging activities:

For Kids: Scavenger hunts, crafts, or a puppet show

For Teens: Photo booth, karaoke, or a dance floor

For Adults: Trivia, board games, or a live music session

Games are a great way to break the ice and ensure everyone has a good time.

Step 7: Arrange for Decorations

Decorations are essential to bring the theme to life. Balloons, banners, and table centerpieces add charm to any venue. Decorations, food, and party favors add the finishing touches to any celebration. Consider hiring a birthday event management team to handle setup, ensuring a stress-free experience for you and a beautiful atmosphere for your guests.

Some pro tips:

DIY Decor: Make some decor pieces yourself to save money and add a personal touch.

Custom Backdrops: Perfect for photos, and it enhances the theme.

Lighting: Adds ambiance, especially for evening parties.

Step 8: Set Up a Photography Corner

A designated photo corner is a fun addition for guests to capture memories. Set up a backdrop with props related to the theme. Guests love sharing these photos on social media, so it’s a great way to make the event memorable.

Step 9: Manage the Music

Create a playlist that matches the mood of the party or hire a DJ if your budget allows. For children’s parties, popular kid-friendly songs are a must. For adults, think about adding some crowd favorites or nostalgic tunes that will encourage people to dance.

Step 10: Party Favors

Party favors are a wonderful way to thank your guests for coming. Choose something relevant to the theme, like mini-candies, candles, or small plants. For kids, toys or goodie bags are always a hit.

Final Thoughts

Whether you’re planning every detail yourself or hiring a birthday party event planner to make things easier, keeping the day organized and focusing on personalized touches can create a magical celebration.

To know more about Organising events: Guide for Event Planning and Management

#birthday party #event management #birthday party venues #birthday party planner

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purelyfiction · 2 years ago

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All Fun & Games ♧♤♡♢ 3.1

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x F!Reader |1| 2 | 3.2

Word Count: 5,335 words

Summary: In a rather spontaneous fashion, Bob has invited you to take a glimpse into his routine - one that you don’t normally get a good look at while up in the air.

Content Warning: This story will have TopGun: Maverick plot line elements to it and will possibly spoil the movie for you. Please be aware. This - and all of my stories - is 18+. By continuing to read you agree that you are 18 or older and that any content you come across is by your own decision. || Mild NSFW subjects

Author Note: .... don’t hate me. This has taken such a long, long time to get out because of work, life - so many things kept piling up. Thank you so so so much for your patience, I think it was early July the last time I updated, so this is long awaited. And because of that - I’ve double updated. This chapter has an extension to it, since I am a madwoman and can’t stay under 8k words and ended up writing nearly 11k words for one part. So, please enjoy more Bob x Vegas content - and please please thank @callsignthirsty and @deadratio for being my editors, sounding boards and generally great friends. You’ll likely see them again soon. Without further adieu: All Fun & Games - Part 3.1

Attention: If you would like to be on the tag list please see the pinned post on my blog for the document. If you’re not able to access it please message me, I rarely find any tag requests in my notifications!

════⋆★⋆════

Bob simply told you to go home and change into an old pair of jeans, a shirt you can sweat in and closed toed shoes. And that he’d eventually be over. So, you did just that despite the 99 degree heat wave North Island is going through. You can’t help but think he’s going insane when he shows up to your door wearing double denim. A stark brown cowboy hat sits on his head, making his gold aviator frames shine in the late morning light.

The jean jacket on his shoulders is worn, and so are the jeans on his hips. Rugged and thoroughly loved cowboy boots sit on his feet. “You look like a right cowboy,” you offer with a smirk as you shut the door behind you, engaging the automatic lock on the door.

“We’re goin’ ridin’, I’d hope so,” he snickers, hands in his pockets as he turns. When you begin down the path, you spot his vehicle in the street. Bob had showed up to pizza night after dark, and the street was very poorly lit - meaning you’d not seen what he’d driven there.

Which is why it takes you aback to see a midnight black silverado at the end of your driveway. “You drive a truck?” you ask, raising an eyebrow in surprise as he approaches the vehicle, looking back at you.

“I’m dressed like a cowboy and you really think I ain’t gon’ be driving a vehicle that matches?” he retorts, before reaching the passenger door and opening it. Bob offers his hand to you, which you hesitantly take before climbing in. He shuts the door before he gets to his side and you can’t help but find the entire interaction... charming.

Once he’s in the cabin, you smile at him. “Maybe I should’ve seen it coming the second you showed me photos of a horse when I woke up this morning,” you tease as he’s starting the engine.

“The signs were all there,” he jokes as he pulls from the curb. It’s not until you’re pulling out of your housing plan that you notice he’s seemingly driving from memory. Another 15 minutes pass before you’re in winding streets, only to pull into a very small parking lot.

“This does not look like a stable, Bo,” you point out and he gives you a look. What he’s pulled up to looks like a red and silver classic bullet diner, neon lights and all. The lot isn’t very full but it looks like there’s a lot of people from what you can see from the wide windows.

“What an astute observation, Lieutenant.” He gives a snicker before opening his door. Bob’s nearly halfway out his own before he sees you try for your own. “Don’t you even think about it.” He gives a pointed finger before shutting his door, making you laugh while he’s dashing around the front of the truck, coming over and opening your door. With a waiting hand, he helps you out and the door swings back to the closed position.

“Thank you. I… don’t remember the last time someone opened a car door for me,” you admit as he waits for you to head to the diner building, a hand coming to the small of your back as he walks a little way behind you.

“I can. It was last night,” Bob points out and you laugh thinking about being leant over the console of your car, attempting to reach the other door handle from the driver’s side.

“It was, wasn’t it?” You can’t wipe the smile off your face as he moves to pull the door open, a bell ringing above you as you pass through what seems to be the entrance to a time machine. There’s classic black and white tile through the entire building, as small as it is, neon red leather booth seats, a classic milkshake machine down the bartop - a jukebox at the end of the narrow aisle that’s been created.

The diner is absolutely bustling, almost every seat is filled, despite the few cars that adorned the parking lot. As you wait to be seated, your wandering eyes fall on a row of familiar machines. “I haven’t seen these in years,” you reminisce before crouching down to look at the little red capsule vending machines.

They haven’t been filled in some time - at least from what you can assume, as many of them are nearly empty. You’re looking over a novelty one when you hear the clinking of metal on metal. Turning your head, you find Bob cranking the knob to one of the dispensers, his hand sitting at the bottom of the chute, waiting for his purchase to come tumbling down. Orange, brown and yellow candies tumble into his palm, a childlike grin on his features as he stands upright.

“Reese’s Pieces at 9 in the morning?” you scold, watching him make a funnel with his hands and letting them fall into his mouth.

“What?” He snickers, mouth full as he chews at the candy. With a shake of your head you’re turning your attention back to the machines in front of you. A laugh leaves you when you spot a range of incredibly poorly made necklaces.

“Look!” you laugh pointing at one of them, making Bob crouch down to look at the panel wedged into the glass. “There’s a bull - it would complete your outfit,” you tease, standing upright as he takes a closer look. A quick glance around the restaurant, you’re finding the bathroom and excusing yourself.

When you return, you find Bob with at least a dozen plastic bubble containers, making you laugh as he wedges yet another quarter into the machine.

“Bob! What on Earth are you doing?” you question, crouching down again, picking up a few of the bubbles. You’re looking at each of them, finding a skull and crossbones, a motorcycle, a dagger - Bob huffs when the next container tumbles out.

“Ah! Finally.” He lets out a laugh and stands up, making you follow suit and step closer to him as he pops the lid off the plastic, pulling the metal from the container. “Turn around.” He’s got a wild grin on his face, but you turn so your back is facing him. In a matter of seconds, he’s pulling the chain around your neck, doing up the clasp in the back. Your fingers pick up the charm, quickly identifying it.

A bull.

As you let out a laugh, you hear Bob’s last name through the waiting area and are quick to follow the older woman hostess to a seat. You approach a booth and are quick to slide in on one side as a menu is offered to you. “Robert, are you gonna need one as well, or the usual this morning?”

Your eyes look toward his face as he grins at the woman. “No, same thing for me this morning, Diana. Coffee - for both of us?” He says it more like a question as he wags a finger in the air, grouping the pair of you together.

“Alrighty, I’ll get Paisley on that right away. Take your time, dear.” You give an appreciative smile at the woman before looking over at the WSO across the table, who’s already peeled his hat off the top of his head, setting it on the seat next to him. His hair is a wild mess, which makes you take a deep breath as you try to gather the sentence that had been on the tip of your tongue - now suddenly gone at the sight of the male in front of you.

Finally, it springs back to its launchpoint on your lips.

“You really come around here frequently, don’t you?” you quip with a smirk, and he shrugs.

“Sort of. The riding thing is newer but - I used to come here a lot back when I was at TOPGUN the first time. One of my good friends and I spent a lot of time in these booths - and a lot on syrup and coffee.” Bob snickers but there’s something lingering in his words that rings somewhat insincere.

You choose not to prod, smiling in return before looking down to the menu. As you’re still reading over the options, a black haired woman approaches with an all too eager grin. “Bobby! It’s about time you were here for the morning, I was beginning to worry you weren’t going to show.” She grins, setting a mug down on the table complete with milk and sugar. Bob greets her in return, a quick glance is sent your direction when he realizes she hasn’t brought a mug for you.

“Me not show? Unlikely,” he hums. “You’ve not met my colleague,” Bob continues in his introduction of you, wherein Paisley gives a very cold fake smile.

“Pleasure, Lieutenant. Guess I forgot your mug, didn’t I? Let me grab that. Do you know what you want since I’m on the way in?” You’re giving her your order - leaving her to snatch the menu from your hands and make her way back to the kitchen window.

“Well she’s… pleasant,” you suggest and Bob shrugs.

“Must be having a rough morning. She’s usually a right sweetheart.” He shrugs and sips at his already prepped coffee, which makes you furrow your brows.

“You must be here a lot if she knows how you take your coffee…” you offer, receiving a shrug in response.

“I’ll stop in sometimes during the week or grab dinner when the mess hall is less than appetizing. But I’m usually only here on Sunday’s before going to the stables.”

“Understandable.” You hum, leaning onto your hands that are propped up by your elbows on the table while meeting his eye. Bob mimics the stance, which doesn’t seem natural on him - making you laugh. He’s joining in as well before you start asking a question: “Not to be weird but: What’s your favorite color?”

Bob gives a chuckle before he taps the leather of the seat he’s sitting on. “You’re looking at it. I haven’t been able to figure why, but red is just such a… vibrant color. It makes me think of home. My pap’s ranch — well my uncle Dale’s ranch, now — has this massive red barn and a few dozen cows to boot. I spent my summers there, like I said, so I have fond memories of that red shining in Tennessee July. That and apple picking in the fall. My momma planted a few apple trees on our acreage in Georgia and she makes the best apple pie with them. It’s funny, seein’ we’re the peach state and all.”

Your laugh pairs with his before dancing through the metal and linoleum of the diner, only to be stomped out as Paisley returns with a mug and fills it with coffee for you. “There’s cream and sugar on the table. Bobby, your food should be out soon. I put hers in a minute ago so it’ll be here… eventually.”

“Thanks, Paise.” A grin from the brunette, the woman exchanging one and dismissing herself from the table without another word. You let out a sound of astonishment and he furrows a brow at you as he sips his coffee.

“It’s like I don’t exist when she shows up,” you point out and Bob shakes his head as he swallows.

“I don’t think, she’s just doing her job,” he offers as you fix your coffee.

“It wouldn’t kill her to be a little nicer,” you mumble once your mug is to your lips. “Anyways. Tell me more about this ‘acreage’ of yours. You guys have a farm in Georgia?”

Bob shakes his head as he shifts in the booth. “No. I mean, momma has chickens but that’s about it. There’s a good 10 acres at minimum. At least a quarter of it has a line of wooded area. Land is a big deal in the south for some reason. Our house is this massive farmhouse built in the seventies, and most of us have moved out. Rylie is the only one still there.”

“Rylie?” you question, your gaze taken by a passing truck with a trailer hitch attached to it. You must be somewhat close to the stables. That paired with the countless farm hands around you, you had to assume.

“Youngest of 5,” he answers, leaving your eyes to widen.

“You have four siblings?” Your jaw slides to open your mouth as he nods.

“Sisters, to be exact. I’m the oldest, then there’s Robyn, she’s 13 months younger than me. We’re jokingly referred to as the twins since we were raised so close to one another. Rowan was born in ��93, so she’s 27, Raine at 25, leaving us with Rylie who’s 16.” Bob sips at his coffee again, your hands twirling the mugs bottom on the table it rests on as you listen.

“That’s…. A gap.” You kindly point out and he snickers as he sets his mug down.

“She was a bonus kid. Momma said she was done having kids and then… Ry-guy came along.” You click your tongue, sitting in silence for a minute before you point out the obvious.

“All Rs,” you hum, and he sighs.

“Was hoping you wouldn’t point that one out.” Bob stretches back against the leather, leaving you to tilt your head.

“Why’s that?”

“It always follows with ‘is your mom Rebecca and your dad Robert Senior?’” He fiddles with the silverware on the table.

“Well, are they?” He smiles as he sees your expression of intrigue and shakes his head.

“Johnathan and Kelly.” A laugh breaks out and you have to cover your mouth.

“Sorry, sorry - so what the hell is with all the Rs?” You can’t wipe the stupid grin on your face as he grins with an air of discontent on his shoulders. Clearly you’re not the first one to ask.

“My granddad on my dad’s side is named Robert - so I’m technically jr, but he’s not around that often. He lives in a retirement plan in Florida. As for the Rs, I was named after granddad, and then they had Robyn. So when Rowan was born they… just kept goin’.”

“It’s kinda cute,” you admit as Bob goes for another sip of coffee only to realize his cup is empty. He shrugs as he reaches across the table, sneaking your mug away from you as Paisley approaches with a coffee carafe in hand. He’s still mid sip when both of you look at the dark haired woman.

“You could’a asked for more coffee, Bobby,” Paisley notes as the male returns your mug and she takes his to fill it.

“Eh, don’t worry about it, coffee tastes better from Vegas’ cup anyways,” he teases with a grin, making you giggle.

“I see. Well, food will be here soon,” Paisley mumbles before turning back toward another table, making you look to him with a look of ‘is she ok?’ and Bob waves you off as he fixes his coffee. In the time it takes to finish his task, a food runner is dropping off a meal of waffles, bacon and eggs in front of your coworker, making him grin and thank the employee.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom and washup, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good.” You confirm as he gets up, passing Paisley on the way to the bathroom as she stops at your table to check your coffee.

“So, how long have you been together?” she asks bitterly as she fills your mug to the top. You freeze at the question, your head moving back and forth.

“I- We aren’t-”

“He’s flirted with you since the minute you stepped foot into the diner. I knew I heard your name before. You’re the Vegas chick that Diana keeps mentioning when she waits on him. She asks him every week how things are going with you two, and he always says you two aren’t dating but I get it. Work probably doesn’t like the idea of you two together-”

“Paisley, right?” You clear your throat and look her in the eye. “Bo-Robert and I aren’t dating.” The nickname leaves you first, leaving you to correct yourself. “It really isn’t any deeper than just a good pair of friends who happen to work together.”

The woman in front of you lets out a laugh and shakes her head. “Friends don’t spend three seventy five on a capsule machine for a toy necklace, but you keep telling yourself that.” Paisley then disappears as quick as she appeared, leaving you to your thoughts.

People in this diner knew who you were. Which meant Bob had been openly talking to people about you. What had he been saying? Was it bad? You’re tugged from any questions as Diana reappears with your plate.

“You’re paler than a ghost, are you alright?” she asks as she sets your dish down. You nod and grin at her with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. She notices, but she doesn’t dare prod you further.

“Yep, yeah, I’m good.” Your brow furrows and you’re about to ask a question when Bob slides back into the booth.

“I’m so excited about these waffles, Di. I’ve been thinking about them all week.” He beams at the woman and she lets a hand hover over her chest as you start at your meal.

“Well that just made my day. You’re a charmer Robert.” She then looks over at you. “Watch out for this one.”

“I certainly will,” you fire back as Diana starts off, leaving you to watch the childlike joy on Bob’s face as he tears into his breakfast.

════⋆★⋆════

With full stomachs, you’re headed back to Bob’s truck and pulling onto the road. He’s got his window down so there’s a refreshing breeze in the truck. As the wind flows, it makes the wispy bits of Bob’s hair that stick out from under his hat flit about.

Eventually, he turns onto a gravel road that leads down toward a large building and a small parking lot. As you climb out of the cab, Bob’s grabbing a brown bag from beside him, making you tilt your head.

“What’s that?” you ask with curiosity, as he leads the way toward the stables.

“A little somethin’. Don’t fret your pretty head about it.” Bob glances over his shoulder as he guides you to an open barn door. You smile at him, despite the way your stomach is flipping at the words.

Just friends. Just friends.

Between the cracked concrete and the rusted lock hatches, you're sure the stable has seen better days, but it smells well loved and lived in. Like home away from home. You try to take it all in while keeping up with Bob's over-eager steps down a poorly-lit hallway. There are multiple people tending to stalls and carrying feed, and you give them all an awkward small smile and a wave, not sure what else to do with your hands. They usually reciprocate a smile in return - many of them have not so subtly taken notice of your incredibly white shoes, their low chuckles telling you that they won’t remain white for long. Part of you is self conscious as you pass people, and it must be clearly written across your face, because when Bob turns to see you lagging behind, he stops and waits for you. Once you’re at his side, he carefully takes your hand in his and looks you in the eye. “Hey, what’s the matter?” His grip is reassuring, but you shrug it off.

“I’m fine.” You wave him off with a smile but he’s already trying to find a solution.

“No ma’am, you are not.” He turns to face you as someone passes by with a quick ‘morning Bob’. He greets them with a smile but grabs their attention. “Can I ask somethin’ of ‘ya?”

“Sure thing.” The woman pockets her hands, smiling at you before looking at Bob.

“This is my friend’s first time ridin’,” he looks to you to confirm and you nod, “is there anything you can suggest that will help her confidence?” Bob asks.

The woman gives you an assessing once-over before she starts on her soapbox. “Well, for starters, she could get a heartier shoe on her foot. Somethin’ with a heel and steel toes. Or at least more protection than fabric. Those sneakers won’t offer nearly the same protection as a boot. As for the horses themselves, they’re more nervous than you. A first time rider like yourself should ride a well-broken horse.” She then turns to Bob, “who were you going to take out for her?”

“I was thinkin’ Goldrush? She’s pretty even tempered, there was a six year old ridin’ with her last week,” Bob offers, tilting his head in what you assume to be Goldrush’s general direction. His hand is still in yours, somewhat playfully rocking in the air as he continues his conversation with this stable hand. The feeling is reassuring while simultaneously strange.

“That’s probably your best bet. I know Heeler and Levi were just out, so they’re probably darn tired and wouldn’t stand another ride.” Bob gives a nod and thanks the woman by name - Jennifer you think it was? You were too focused on the curious head poking out of the stall to your right, making you grin. Soon, Bob is guiding you to a wall that’s filled with lockers that have seen better days. He’s grabbing his keys from his pocket and opening one up, old and nearly peeling duct tape over the door with black Sharpie scrawled across the front:

R. Floyd

It’s funny how six letters could make you break out in such a childish smile.

Yet here you were, watching as the cowboy next to you opens his locker (a rather messy one at that) looking around for something.

“What’s your shoe size?” He looks up at you from his squatted position, a rouge boot in his hand.

“You’re going all stalker on me, Floyd.” You tease, looking down at the boot. Luckily, the boot was a half size bigger than your own, making you look at him as he guides you to a seat nearby. “Do I wanna know who these shoes belong to?”

“First off, they’re boots. Get it right.”

“Sorry, sorry. Whose boots are these?”

He has a wild smirk on his face, shaking his head as he undoes your laces on your sneakers. “They’re Robyn’s. She left them here back when I was in Leemore,” Bob answers before looking up at you, one knee to the ground as he tugs the shoe off your foot. “I’m not tryin’ to be a dick you know. My name’s not Seresin.”

An astonished laugh leaves you as he starts to get your other shoe off, a rather proud expression painted on his features. “Oh yeah? So what’s the difference, cowboy?” you hum, watching as he undoes your laces and shifts onto his other knee to toss your still-white Nikes into his locker.

“Well most notably, they’re leather. But, I reckon you already knew that.” He snickers, carefully taking the back of your calf, guiding your foot into the boot and shuffling it in for you. When your foot finally sinks in, it’s damn comfortable. “The boot has more protection to keep your calves from chafing against the side of the horse, and the heel keeps your foot in the stirrup. And, well - if a hoof ends up misplaced on your toes, they’re better protected.”

Your eyes widen at the last one and he taps your knee in reassurance as he slides the other shoe on.

“It’s never happened to me and I’ve been ridin’ for years. Just a precaution, V.” When your feet are secure in the boots, he’s standing upright and taking your hands to guide you onto your feet, like you were a newborn calf learning to walk. “They feel good?”

“I get why you wear boots now,” you admit as your feet shuffle along the dirt floor. They’re hugging your foot comfortably, and barely have any shift to them, keeping them in place. When you look back up at him, he’s grinning ear to ear.

“Now you’re a right cowgirl.” He’s beaming and you can’t help the reflected smile on your face. With his hand still in yours again, he’s shutting his locker and leading the way out of the barn like structure, out to a gravel path and toward another barn. When he opens the door, you find nearly a dozen horses in their own respective stalls. “Welcome to the stable.”

Bob begins to lead you down, introducing you to each horse, a few of them getting nose and ear scratches from the back seater. It’s not until you’re in front of a stall with a white and brown horse who’s bouncing their head excessively and whinnying at the sight of your coworker.

“And here’s the man of the hour,” he cheers, pulling his face away as the horse excitedly tries to lick at him. “Easy, Cop, easy.” He chuckles with a greeting pet to the side of the horse’s neck. Bob’s handing you the bag he’s been carrying around. “Open that for me?”

When you do, you’re greeted by a cinnamon sugar coated pastry, which Bob pulls from the bag still in your hand.

“This is what you’re after, ain’t it buddy?” He holds the donut up in the air, the horse sniffing along, lips moving in an effort to grab the snack in Bob’s hands. He’s teasingly keeping it just out of the poor animal’s reach.

“Bo, stop mocking him,” you admonish with a laugh, leaving Bob to cave and feed the treat to the white and brown spotted animal. As Copper’s teeth bite into the fried dough, he notices the bag in your hand. You have to reach out with your spare hand to stop his muzzle from entering the bag and stealing another treat.

“Hey!” you laugh, gingerly pushing his snout from the brown paper. “I don’t think both of these are for you, pal,” you hum, using your knuckles to gently rub his forehead.

“Unfortunately not,” Bob confirms, before pointing out a tan horse a few stalls down. “That’s Goldrush. The other donut’s for her. We can feed her and then I’ll get her saddled, we’ll get her in the pen, and then we can grab Copper.”

Bob leads you to Goldrush, and teaches you how to feed her — palm flat, fingers together, thumb tucked against the side of your hand. She’s so calm, happily letting you pet her as Bob starts to layer on tack to get her ready. The brunette is carefully teaching you about each layer: the saddle pad, the saddle, the girth, and bridle. As he moves about the stall, you can see the sweat begin to bead on his forehead. He’s eventually shrugging off his denim jacket, leaving him in a long sleeve linen shirt with countless stains on it. He’s pushing the sleeves up his forearms and getting back to the task at hand. Now your attention has shifted from the tack equipment and all their names, to the way his muscles flex with the tightening of clasps, the sheer strength needed to lift the saddle up and over the horse, the spots of his shirt that have changed color with moisture-

You realize he’s said something, which makes you startle back to attention and look at him with eyes and ears open.

“Huh?” you prompt, seeing his outreached hand holding the reins.

“You wanna walk her to the pen?” Hesitantly, you take the leather leeds from his hand and begin to guide the horse from her stall - with Bob’s help. “Look at you, you’re a natural.” He’s clearly teasing you, based off of the smirk on his features, you roll your eyes.

“Open the gate, Floyd.”

“Yes ma’am.”

It doesn’t take long for Bob to get Copper ready, but once he’s done, the WSO is drenched in sweat, which certainly doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re not sure if he can tell, but there is a burning to your skin that you’re absolutely certain isn’t from the sun.

Bob recommends that you take a few laps around the enclosure before you head to a trail, just to make sure you’re comfortable, and Goldrush is letting you be her passenger. You’re attempting to navigate the task of mounting up when Bob rushes over, pulling a pair of gloves on.

“Here, wait.” Soon enough, the WSO’s hands are on your waist. “At the count’a three, jump.” With one foot in the stirrup, you’re nodding at his instructions. As he counts, you bounce your knees, before jumping up, Bob’s arms helping you up as you pull yourself up and over the width of the saddle.

“Hey! Look at that!” you cheer, looking down at Bob who’s grabbing ahold of the reins in leathered gloves.

“How’s the weather up there?” he chides as he begins to step with Goldrush along the wooden fence, helping you get used to the motion - you’re holding on to the horn of the saddle as you shift side to side which each step Goldrush takes.

“Hah hah. You should drop out of the Navy and go on a comedy show,” you taunt with a smile.

“I know, such wasted potential.” Bob smiles up at you before reaching up to hand the reins over. “You feelin’ okay up there, darlin’?”

You swear you had an answer. All the way up until darlin’ in that damn drawl flies off his lips. It’s like a Rubrik’s cube was scrambled just as you were about to solve it - and now you’re being timed to get all the colors right.

“Ugh, yeah, yeah. I’m good.” You hesitantly take the straps from his hands.

“Glad to hear it. So let’s work on steering.”

With a quick lesson under your belt, Bob is climbing up on Copper’s back and starting to navigate you both from the pen toward a path just off the grounds of the stables. The path is a dirt path that starts up the base of the nearby hill - or was it a mountain?

Either way it had some elevation to it and both horses breezed over it. There were trees littered along the path, but they gave way to glimpses of the ocean nearby.

“How often are you on this path?” You’re shouting so Bob can hear you up head on the trail. He turns to look at you from over his shoulder.

“At least once a week. There’s not many paths near here that are horse accessible, so we’re pretty limited,” he explains and you nod. You’re taking in your surroundings, trying to focus on staying in the saddle, your knuckles gripping the leather of the horn as you continue to climb further up the trail path.

“How are you so rigid on this thing? I feel like I’m sliding with every step.” Bob glances at you again and kicks his legs out at his sides.

“Hug the horse with your legs. You should be moving your body with her head. Horses move their entire body when they walk. So you’ve gotta move with them.” He’s faced forward again and you’re watching the way he’s riding, trying to figure out what he means.

You’re not easily distracted, but there’s something in the way thatBob’s hips seem to bounce with each trot Copper takes that has your head in the clouds. You swear if you knew the way back, you and Goldrush would’ve been running back to the stables, but you don’t, so your skin is hot and you hope Bob’ll just blame it on the heat.

The two of you mingle in light conversation, taking in sights and listening to Bob’s stories about his grandfather’s ranch. Getting to know him has been a big part of the weekend, and there’s a mental list you’ve been running:

Tequila and Robert don’t mix

He doesn’t wear pajamas

He’s a cowboy

He drives a truck

The man is ripped

He’s a true gentleman

He has lots of siblings

You’re certain the list will continue to grow the more you’re around him, and frankly, you’re not too mad about it.

════⋆★⋆════

Did you enjoy this? Consider buying me a coffee!

@luckyladycreator2 @queengeek487

@discoseal @that-cute-stranger @caswinchester2000 @inglourious-imagines @ssaic-jareau @kana-austin @mochminnie @kyleed24 @americaarse @thesunsetphantoms @not-leaprvt @gayforsteve @turningtoclown @nyotamalfoy @alainabooks143 @sodonebruh @winteroqers @hay-9105 @straightforwardly @luckyladycreator2 @marchingicenotes7 @maggiescarborough @startterfly @pheonist

#bob x reader #bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert x reader #bob x vegas #bob x f!reader #bob floyd x f!reader #robert floyd x f!reader #top gun fic #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick

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messydiabolical · 3 years ago

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The Cerberus shield fort in the Normandy hangar bay, aka Fort Mail Slot

I was chatting about fave enemies in Mass Effect in a discord chat, and mentioned that I love the cerberus shield guys, as a sniper they are fun to aim at. And I got the biggest freaking brainworm, which started with:

Keahi Shep would collect them all up (the shields) afterwards and build a victory fort in the shuttle bay. Thane: has anyone seen siha Garrus: he's in the shield fort down in the bay Thane: the what Garrus: they're making a throne. It has turrets too.

And it became A THING. @stormikins and I then went into such a spiral elabroating the lore of Fort Mail Slot, at 7am on Monday morning, on no sleep and much coffee. Highlights! (quotations are @stormikins ideas, thank you so much for joining me on this madness stormikins!) ⦁ Everyone gets to add a shield they have 'won' (aka taken out a cerberus shield guy in battle) to the front rampart and can decorate it as they choose. ("Grunt would paint dinos and sharks. Eating little Cerberus guys"). ⦁ At first its seen as a Shep quirk, but as people add their own touches to it, they quickly become fully invested in the fort. Tali engineers a lighting and sound system. Liara establishes extranet connections. A bar appears. Vega's gym gets absorbed into the structure and becomes the fort gym. ⦁ Sophie gets her own tower right by the front gate and is the guard dog of honour. "She’s like Cerberus guarding the gate. Must give bribe treat to get in" ⦁ The fort quickly becomes legendary throughout the galaxy. It's in the shuttle bay, so anyone who comes aboard immediately see's the giant freaking shield fort as like the first thing they see aboard the Normandy, which is hilarious, UNLESS they come aboard from the upper dock, then they hear whispers of the secret fort in the basement. ⦁ "Shepard, picking up Jack and the kids at Grissom: hey, collect your shields! We’re trying to make another wing! Jack: what " (but also) Jack: sees the kids not picking up shieds Jack: you heard the man you little Fu- fricks.

⦁” Kaidan/Ashley come aboard and are like: damn nothing really has changed huh” They'd look, shake their head, and immediately hop on in. "Shake of the head, hands on hips, and then “how many do I need?” ⦁ Politicans that DON'T fuck Shep over get embassy status ⦁ Rumour has it Primarch Victus got absolutely sauced in the bar wing late one night after a trying day of playing politics ⦁ The dalatrass is of course denied entry. "Wrex takes pleasure in rubbing in her face that he's invited and she isn't" ⦁ the fort becomes so normalised on the Normandy, so much a part of the life that people kinda forget it’s a bit odd, and when the asari refuse to help Shep actually tries the 'but you won't be included in the fort' line asari: what Shep: what~ ⦁ Liara gets her own mini bank of screens in the fort to try and lure her out of her room, Shep puts up black blankets around the area with a huge sign saying 'super secret shadow broker business shhhhh' over it. Shep also puts up a neon notice board with 'totally not super secret shadow broker messages under here nope' and underneath is an extremely crudely drawn penis, with realy tiny writing underneath, like so tiny you have to get really close or take a picture and zoom, and the writing says 'made you look Liara. Twice.' and next to it is another tiny dick. ⦁ Another shadow broker prank sign: “To learn this SB secret please answer the following: dog or not?" ⦁ Joker gets 'I got fucked in the cerberus shield fort and all I got was this lousy shirt' teeshirts printed ⦁ Shep creates a little moat out front for javik. He of course deems it primitive, but can be found using it. He also compiles a report on more effective fort defence protocols. "Sophia loves him, and he's annoyed by it, but secretly loves it" ⦁ In time people commend Shepard for coming up with such an unconventional but genius way of creating a bonding exercise for the crew during the stresses of war. Shep is mysetfied, they genuinely just wanted to build a fort. ⦁ Just picture it: a bunch of cerberus troops spreading out in front of Shep, feeling confident ('so many of us vs 3 people, and us with these shiny shields!') and shep just whooping and shouting 'yes! we can extend the cinema room lads!' and the troops being very, very confused ⦁ the mail slots on the front gate are for pizza delivery we tried coming up with good names, but in the end decided that it being simply the shield fort was funnier, as people might assume the 'shield fort in the hangar bay' is like an actual, functional ship thing, like a shield fortification station for the normandy or something, and then its like 'oh, no, it's an actual shield fort'. It does gain the nickname of Fort Mail Slot among the crew. please help us expand Fort Mail Slot lore! What would other squad members decorate their shields with? What upgrades would people add, what wings? Please share cerberus sheild fort shennanigans i’d love to hear them x

#mass effect #mass effect headcanons #mass effect lore #Fort Mail Slot #the cerberus shield fort #commander shepard #my headcanons

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joshslater · 3 years ago

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Dionysus

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I was very hesitant when he picked me up at the nightclub. I could feel the disappointment and outright hostility from all the women and a lot of the men as the God walked up to me, started to make out, and then asked if I was up for some fun. That's what you get away with when no one ever says "no" I thought. With his incredibly handsome face, black hair, and athletic build that was probably not a word he was used to hearing. It would be impossible for him to know I was into guys, and coming on so strong could land you in hot water or rather knocked cold on the floor. Turns out he could know, and there was more to him than just utter handsomeness and unparalleled confidence. Way more.

It was back at his place he asked me if I could look like someone else, who would I pick? That's a game I've played many times before, so I instantly knew to answer Marco Albieri, the soccer player. He raised an eyebrow, took a step from me, and asked me why. "I don't know what it is about soccer players, but something about the game makes their bodies stunningly handsome. And Marco is just a step above the rest." He smiled a bright smile, made a dramatic gesture, and I was Marco. Looked exactly like him at least. It took me a moment to even realize what had just happened, but I could see myself in the full-length mirror. Or I couldn't, I should say. I saw Marco Albieri in full Paris Saint-Germain F.C. game kit. Mesmerized I took a step closer to the mirror, and Marco on the other side of the glass stepped closer as well. I looked just like him, my wettest, wankiest dream. I'd come so many times to exactly this fantasy. There was even a sheen of post-game sweat making all the skin glistening in his hallway designer lights.

He approached me from behind, still handsome but now by a much narrower margin. "You ready to fuck?" I didn't even answer but just turned around and kissed him. He wasn't shy in grouping me back. What followed was the longest fuck fest I've ever been part of. We went from room to room. It was like this body had limitless stamina, though it was the body of Marco after all, but an insatiable horny lust as well. Perhaps he had that too. It wasn't until early morning I fell asleep next to him, exhausted.

It was almost noon when I woke up, disoriented by everything. It was like it wasn't until now the craziness and impossibility of last night hit me. I could see Marco Albieri in the mirror at the other side of the bedroom, without shirt, and the most unkempt hair I had ever seen him with. I knew for a fact the secret hairstyling trick was body fluids. I suddenly felt very uneasy and exposed. Vulnerable even. I was here on vacation. How could I leave if I didn't look like my passport? How could I leave this building looking like Marco? There would be fans stopping me instantly. What the fuck am I thinking about? I'm erased from the world. No one I know, no one in my family would recognize me. Could I convince them I'm me and not a millionaire soccer player? Perhaps. But my life would be so complicated.

That's when he lazily strolled into the bedroom, completely naked showing off his chiseled body, one mug in each hand.

"You did this! How the fuck did you do this? You can't leave me like this!" "Morning!"

He handed me one of the mugs. On reflex I took a large sip of coffee only to discover it was red wine. It took me by surprise and I almost sprayed his white sheets with red mist of wine, but instead got some down my lungs and started to cough.

"Is this really the best you can think of?" he said. At first I had no idea what he meant. Then, still coughing, I realized it was my body again. The one I used to fly here, check into the hotel, and go out to nightclubs with.

"I... It's awfully inconvenient if I tried to leave with a different body." "That's it? That's the only reason?"

I felt stupid and unsure what to say. I liked my body, so why was it so hard to defend it? He took a large sip from his coffee mug of wine and climbed into bed next to me, but standing on his knees looking down on me.

"When's your flight back?" "Eh, in... On Sunday." "Plenty of time to let loose. How about going to the beach like this?"

This time I noticed the shift. The bed sagged down a bit under the extra load and I didn't even have to look in the mirror to see the freakish muscles. Two huge chest muscles peeked into my field of vision, and moving my arm I could see it was thicker than what my legs used to be.

I felt light-headed as we walked down to the beach. Probably the wine. He was subtle and classy, black Nike sneakers, black boardshorts, and a white T-shirt. I was anything but subtle. Probably twice his mass, annoying flip flops that flipped and flopped every step, white compression shorts that looked blindingly bright against my deep tan, a purple thong that peeked up over the rim of the shorts by the hips, visible because the neon yellow tank top was cropped above the belly button to show off the abs. The stringer waved for every step as my obscene pecs push out the yellow fabric like a hanging flag. It touched my body in surprisingly few places. Top of the traps and the nipples more or less.

After spending a few hours getting everyone passing by on the beach to turn their heads to observe the freak show he asked me to play floatation device for him. We went out in the water and did our best to have sex just outside where the waves broke. I think anyone who paid close attention could tell what we did, but no one could be really sure. He didn't appear to care.

"I made you something," he whispered. "What?" "A surfer," he said and begun walking towards the beach. As I wiped my long hair out of my face I understood he changed me again. No more shaved head, no more enormous meat slab. I still had a six-pack, I was still 6'-something, and my skin was deeply tanned, but that's about where the similarities ended. "Why?" I asked as I lied down on the beach towel next to his. "First dive bar opens soon, and I thought this would play better to the crowd." I was feeling woozy. "We want to play to the crowd?" He reached over and squeezed the pec closest to him. "Well, make them jealous at least."

There was something nagging at the edge of my thoughts. Some question I felt I needed to ask. I just couldn't quite put it into coherent thought.

"Did you drug me?" He made a high-pitched "Mmmm" sound. "Just a bit. To fit with the rest. Just go with it."

I shut my eyes, relaxed, and let his hand stroke me. I don't know how long we lied like that. Not too long, because the sun hadn't moved that much, but I sure did dozed off.

"Come on!" he said, like it was asking me to hurry up for the third time. A bit confused I got up from the beach towel. I wore a pair of eye-popping turquoise board shorts with black pattern and trim. Neon turquoise, if such a color was a thing. I knew it had a real trade name, but somehow it kept slipping my mind. They had a good fit, not loose, not tight, but rode low on my lithe body. Fuzzy pubes peeked out over the waistband, like a little forest edge where the treasure trail from the belly button ended. I looked around for a shirt or something to put on, but there was nothing except for a pair of flip-flops. These didn't look as cheap and fit much better than the previous pair though.

"Is that it?" I asked incredulously. "What more do you need?" he said, and looked at me like he wanted me for dinner. "Come!"

The bar wasn't far away and already busy when we arrived. He almost danced in, basically dragging me in, holding my hand. I was woozy from whatever I was drugged with, but in a way that made everything look amazing to me. In any direction I looked I was delighted by what I saw, no matter how mundane. The bar was not even half full and everyone looked as relaxed as you would expect from a bar half a block from the beach, though no one else was bare-chested. The decor was a random mix of styles, as expected by a dive bar. Tables for two or four were lined up in front of the bar at the back of the room. From a backroom somewhere behind it pumped music. I looked at my watch to see if it was already dance time, but I was only wearing a red nylon cord as a bracelet.

"You must be thirsty after a day in the sun," he said and handed me an Aperol Spritz. I could have sworn he hadn't left me for the bar, but then I didn't really trust my senses. We took a table for four and sat next to each other, facing the rest of the room. "So, tell me about your day," he continued, as if he hadn't been there for all of it.

For whatever reason I found it hard to figure out where to start, like it was all jumbled together despite nothing of consequence had happened. I began to describe how I had woken up in bed and how he surprised me with breakfast. How I had mistaken the red wine for coffee. I could feel his hand moving down my abs and into my board shorts. As he pulled out my erect cock from the shorts my immediate thought was of surprise. I hadn't realized I was hard. I continued to talk about how we went to the beach, while he was jerking me off with one hand under the table. It then hit me that I had no idea what my dick looked like, if it was big or small. I had never seen it. He had transformed me somehow into this surfer. How could I have forgotten something so monumental.

At that point I shot my load under the table. Four or five large pumps. I was suddenly aware again that there were people around us, and looking around tried to figure out if any of them could see I had my dick out. At the same time I was still feeling high or whatever it was. "I'll get a refill," he said, stood up and headed for the bar. I decided to put my dick back into the shorts.

"Hey, dude. Is he like your boyfriend?" someone standing next to me asked. How long had he been there? He was handsome, not quite as tall as I was now, but more muscled. The tight billabong shirt didn't hide much. "Him? No. We just..." I was trying to think of a good word. I wasn't sure what he was, or what was happening at all really. "Wanna check out the dance floor?" "Yeah... Yeah, I would."

I followed him towards the bar, and away to the side into the dance room. It was far from packed, but we were not alone at least. Immediately I regretted following him there, even before he started moving to the music. Once he did I knew I would look silly. I started to mimic his moves best I could. He smiled a crooked smile, though not an unkind one, when he saw what I was doing. He leaned forward and barely audible over the music asked "Are you up for a second round?"

"What do you mean?" I asked back. "I saw what that other dude did to you. I live nearby, if you want to try something that isn't over in minutes."

In the door opening I see him standing with two large drinks in his hands. He looks emotionless, which in itself was a scary contrast to how he looked before. He then drinks one of the drinks in one go, then immediately empties the other one as well. No sooner has he turned away with two empty glasses when I feel a desperate need to take a piss. He's fucking with me.

"Don't go anywhere," I say and dash towards to men's room.

It's empty. I go to the lone urinal and yank my dick out of the white thong. I'm confused, but happy I got there in time to relieve myself. Why am I wearing only a white thong to a bar? As the piss is streaming for longer than I can ever recall I look down my bare smooth legs and find a pair of eye-catching red hightops. When I'm finally done I have a look at myself in the mirror. Cute, young Latino boy with a red baseball cap on his unkempt hair, and a grey shirt. The shirt in a way makes the thong stand out even more and look intentionally inappropriate. Perfect!

I return to the dance floor and find the guy waiting. "There you are. Let's go!" he says, almost demanding. He doesn't say anything on the way to his apartment two blocks away. I keep looking his way, and it feels like my dick is growing bigger every time I look at those muscled arms. His pace is brisk without being conspicuous, he clearly wants us to get to his place as quickly as possible without being seen. In through an unlocked entrance, up two flights of stairs, and in through his apartment door.

As soon as he whisked me in and closed the door behind us he grabs me, shoves me into the wall next to us, and forcefully kisses me on my mouth. "You fucking whore! I'm so fucking horny you better know what you're doing."

He snores loudly again. I had tried to ignore it to spend a few more hours in the bed, but it's getting pointless to try to sleep any more. I carefully get up and get dressed. No need for a shower, now that everything dried. I make a final check I got everything with me that I brought in. There is that nagging feeling that I'm missing something. Well, whatever it was it can't be important. Quietly I exit his apartment and make my way out of the building. I feel restless being so quiet and calm, like it is unnatural for me to be that way. I basically explode in emotions as I exit the building and literally dance down the last few steps.

I try to think what to do next. My mind is like a spinning punch bowl of thoughts and I'm only able to fish out simple verbs. Party! Drink! Dance! Fuck! The sun is barely up, but perhaps I can find some nightclub still open.

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tonguetiedraven · 2 years ago

Note

I'm not allowed to come up with prompts bc I just find rabbitholes instead. it was "Bon if we turn the pages of you book can we paint you nails?" to 'where did the sleepover get the nail polish selection?' to 'mephisto's stash' to 'does he even have painted nails? the man wears gloves but vibes say yes' to 'volume 19 cover confirms, man paints his nails'. At least no one can ever say I'm not dedicated to doing a bit. Anyway all I'm saying is exwires have sleepovers bc they're teenagers! let them have normal teenager things!

Mephisto absolutely wears nail polish and thoroughly enjoys manicures and pedicures.

And yes, the kids absolutely deserve to have sleepovers <3

— — — — —

They are black tonight, and Ryuuji can appreciate the edgy touch. Shiemi always paints him green with intricate flowers, Izumo has tried pink once (but only on his thumb so he let it pass) while Paku always tries to match his outfit.

He isn’t sure which of them has done this. He has been lost in his book and has long since given up trying to stop them. The girls will do what they want and arguing isn’t worth it.

Rin’s are blue tonight (they were out of his favorite red), and the light shade makes his eyes pop any time he moves to brush his bangs from his face. Shima’s are always some atrocious neon color (Izumo likes to make it clash with his hair, but they are still painted perfectly.

Konekomaru’s are alway soft browns or grays or earthy pinks. Nothing that stands out dramatically, though he does like when Shiemi adds mandalas to the design.

Yukio lets them do a clear coat, and that is usually it. They can occasionally add special ingredients to the polish, and Shiemi can occasionally coax him into clovers.

Takara’s hands are always hidden in his puppets, so Ryuuji doesn’t know what he gets on his nails.

The girls are never the same, and they are always fun to see. Flowers and kittens and foxes and mascots he doesn’t know, sweets and stripes and spells and countless little decorations that are always fun. He’s even seen summoning circles on Izumo’s nails.

The nail painting is only one of the things that happen on their hangouts.

Alright. They are technically sleepovers, but Ryuuji is always a bit squeamish about calling them that. It brings images of giggling (which yeah, they laugh but Ryuuji does not giggle), hair ribbons (he has let Shiemi and Rin braid his hair once and he did not allow the ribbons), gossiping (they trade intel, not gossip), and childish things. Plus people give them double looks when they hear that it is their entire group.

They’ve never done anything like that. They just fall asleep in the twins’ common room. They drag a bunch of blankets and old futons together and more or less collapse on the large nest of blankets and dolls. (He can never figure out who the stuffed animals belong to. And it grows every time he sees the pile. He’s even added two blankets and three stuffed coal-tars he’s won from Mephyland to the hoard.)

It’s fun and not weird, and calling them sleepovers makes them sound weird, so Ryuuji just calls them hangouts.

Anyway, it’s black tonight. Shiemi is adding a few final touches to her own toenails —it looks like she’s gone with a cherry blossom color scheme— and Rin is trying to throw popcorn into Shima’s mouth but he’s making a mess of it which means Kuro is pouncing around to get the missed pieces and both Konekomaru and Izumo are trying desperately to get the cat sidhe's attention.

Yukio is looking over the rules for the game they are going to be playing (even though he knows them by heart) while Sei fusses over the cards and boards. It’s the sort of thing that involves resource management, which means it’s going to be down to him, Yukio, and Shiemi who has unnaturally good luck at any game. (Maybe there is something to her clovers.)

Rin will be the first one out, which is just as well because he will go make snacks and then they'll all get to enjoy them, and Ryuuji is going to need extra fuel to beat everyone. (Shiemi has painted clovers on Yukio's thumbs. Hopefully there isn't anything to her clovers.)

Konekomaru catches Kuro and cuddles him close as Yukio motions everyone forward for the game. Izumo takes the spot by Konekomaru's side, trying to coax Kuro to her own lap with a bit of popcorn.

Ryuuji snags a stuffed dragon and flops over on his stomach next to Rin. (The dolls were nice to lay on and the spot ensures he'll have first pick of the snacks when Rin gets back.)

"Why can't we do spin the bottle?" Shima whines as he takes a seat next to Yukio.

"Because no one wants to kiss you." Izumo answers without missing a beat. Kuro is staring contemplatively at her popcorn.

"You're so mean to me!"

She's painted his nails a soft lavender that goes well with his hair. She must have felt generous, or the red being empty has really thrown her off. (Ryuuji is inclined to believe the first even if it would earn him a punch in the arm to say it.)

"We could play never have I ever after this?" Paku asks, trying to placate both her friends. "As a compromise."

Shima perks right up as Ryuuji takes his cards and helps walk Rin through what each one is (again.)

"That'll work."

"But," Paku adds, giving Shima an appraising look, "the group has the right to veto questions."

The idea is met with general approval despite Shima’s immediate whine of No fair! and But everyone will veto all my questions!

Izumo returns that he shouldn’t be a pervert then and Kuro grows big enough to drape himself over her lap and Konekomaru. His tails (deliberately) upset the popcorn bowl and the kernels go everywhere. Chaos reigns for a moment as everyone dodges they flying snack, and then it’s a scramble to make sure Kuro doesn’t eat it all. You’ll get fat! Rin warns, earning a hiss of insult.

They settle back down, Rin’s tail drapes over Ryuuji’s ankle and Yukio’s knee is a little uncomfortable where it digs into his side, but they’re together and having fun and sleepover or not, they’re one of Ryuuji’s favorite things now.

#ryuuji suguro #ryuji suguro #exwires #my tumblr fics #ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #ane #aoe #aoex #bon suguro #rin okumura #shima renzou #izumo kamiki #konekomaru miwa #shiemi moriyama #yukio okumura #kuro

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behindyourbarrette · 4 years ago

Text

like you a latte - party parasols/stovetop

←previous | series masterlist | join my taglist

pairing: spencer reid x reader

word count: 2k

warnings: brief alcohol mention, none other than that

a/n: and just like that, it’s over! i cannot believe it. the reception to this series has surpassed my greatest expectations! thank you all for being here, reading, and cheering me on! i hope you like how our two dorks’ story ends :) as always TELL ME WHAT U THINK orrrr REBLOG! both help me, a new writer, out tremendously :)

—

You’re late.

It’s a cruel twist of fate, but a twist of fate nonetheless. Your afternoon classes ran late, and the roads were congested on the way home. There are a million reasons why you’re late, and none of them make up for the disappointment you feel.

It’s a sad attempt at getting ready. You’ve been texting with Penelope all week—ever since Spencer was called away, really, about the team’s plan to decompress at a bar afterwards. While the setting strikes you as odd at first, you quickly realize that you haven’t been to a bar since undergrad.

It’s strangely exciting. You catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror before you hitch a ride with Pen, purse slung over your shoulder and eyes wide with anticipation. You look like yourself—a smile on your face, in an outfit you feel confident in. With a leap, you close the door behind you, keys jingling in your hands.

The ride across town is short, and Penelope peppers you with questions the entire time. While she’s not a profiler, she should be one—you’re positive that she’s picked up on the shift in the dynamic between you and Spencer, and she has no qualms about asking. You groan, feeling a little like you’re being interrogated by an older sister.

“Spence is so private! I’m still surprised he let us meet you. Spare me a little detail, darling?”

You chuckle, your cheeks warming. You would like to know what Spencer says about you when you’re not there to hear it. Your heart thrums against your chest in a quick rhythm as you draw closer to the bar, and you feel a twist of juvenile excitement when you catch sight of the neon lights.

It’s a little late, the city stuck in the lull between day and night. Lights twinkle above you as you hop out of Penelope’s car, laughing and joking. In the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a black SUV. Then, a familiar lanky figure.

“Hey, Spence.”

Penelope shoots you a knowing look and rushes off to meet JJ, and you’re left alone. Spencer opens the door for you, tugging on it to reveal the inside of the bar. It has all the makings of a great place to have fun. Multicolor lights, a dart board, a wall of liquor, and booming 2000’s hits. You grin as you step inside, into the throng of people. You spot Emily at the bar, having beat the team there.

It’s crowded, and proving difficult to push and pull past the dancing bodies. Looking up at Spencer, he seems on edge. You take a deep breath and begin to wind through the crowd, and before you can talk yourself out of it, you slip your hand into his. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. A grin makes its home on both of your faces as you approach the bar, greeted by a few new people.

“This is Morgan. And that’s Hotchner. You know Emily and JJ.” Spencer gestures to both of the new figures. You shake both of their hands, noting the excited smiles on their faces. The entire group seems happy, exchanging glances as Spencer sits at the bar, eyes on you. Morgan you’ve heard about, and he’s just as suave in person as described to you by Penelope and sometimes, Spencer. He asks about what you do for work, looking between you and Spencer with something that looks like intrigue.

“I’m a barista, downtown. I’m also studying law.” You offer, a little bashful. These people are all incredibly established, and you’re…wooing people through coffee. Derek takes a sip of his drink, smiling like he knows something you don’t.

“You, my friend,” He says, pointing to emphasize his words, “Make the world go around. Seriously. I don’t know what this team’d do without coffee.”

You blush, looking up at Spencer. A new expression is seated on his face—it looks like pride. Penelope drags Derek onto the dance floor, and you watch them slow dance with a new degree of fondness for the both of them. Despite the fact that the bar is blasting Usher, the bass booming through the floor, they make a waltz work. Emily and JJ step away from the bar to compete at darts, their voices carrying over the music as the stakes heighten. You order a frozen margarita, and Spencer orders a water.

“Can I get one of the, uh, fancy umbrellas? And one for him, too?” You ask the bartender, a grisly man who seems disenchanted with your request. Spencer just watches as you take the toothpick and press it into your slush, dropping a parasol into his water after you’re done. Satisfied, you grin up at him.

“Match with me.”

He’s pretty like this—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile this much. The bar fades into the background as you watch his focus shift, eyes trailing across your face.

“You, uh. You look beautiful.”

Something catches and pulls in your chest. He means it—his cheeks are red with the effort of it, but his eyes never leave you. It occurs to you while this isn’t a very conventional first date, a few traditions are worth keeping. You offer him a soft smile, setting your drink down.

“So do you.”

You feel a little brave; he does that to you. In any other circumstance, you’d be nervous. The bar is loud and you can feel his friends watching you, their gazes less than subtle as you convince yourself to take the leap.

You’re in luck. He moves first, offering you a crooked smile as he takes your face into his hands. You reach up, arms around his neck as he leans in. The excited cheers from the dance floor are lost on the both of you as he kisses you, softly and with something that tastes a little like cinnamon and a lot like hope. He isn’t hesitant—his initial fierceness melts into something tender and warm. With a grin, you pull away to watch him blush and straighten the collar of his shirt. You reach up to press a decisive kiss to his temple, and you can almost hear Penelope’s squeal from across the bar.

You don’t really believe in fate. But some things are just too good to be coincidental. You’ve turned back to your drink, trying to tone down your smile when you hear David Bowie begin to croon over the speakers. Your face cracks into a grin, and you practically yell over the disco as you attempt to drag Spencer onto the dance floor. He’s strong, and your attempts to tug him forward are futile. He looks amused by your efforts, though, smirking as you pull on his forearm.

“Holy shit, Spence. I love this song.”

“I don’t dance. Really. I have, three left feet, as they say." He makes a show of shuffling in demonstration, hands in his pockets, and the sight is so adorable you think you might cry. Instead, you laugh, and turn your head to catch sight of Penelope, who is already mid-shimmy.

“For me?”

You say, batting your eyelashes as you peer up at him. To your total surprise, his expression softens and he reaches for you. The feeling of your forearms dwarfed in his hands lingers as you both walk onto the floor, swaying lightly. You’d let him step on your feet a million times just to see the look on his face as you spin around, laughing as you go. It feels a little like fate.

---

stovetop, months and months later

Everything is better up close.

It is not the first time you have considered this; where you once kept your distance, lingering in unknowns, you now lean in. Spencer is not someone to be admired from afar; you prefer this. You’re tucked into the crook of his arm, watching his chest rise and fall with each slow, sleepy breath. It’s early morning, sunlight peeking through the curtains and warming your skin in long slices.

There’s work to be done, phone calls to be answered. People to be saved. Coffee to be poured. Suits to be filed. But here, feeling his heartbeat thrum against your own, life feels a little less urgent. There is a space to be occupied, a world where he holds you until you both wake up, and time slows into a delicate push and pull.

Later, you wake up and he’s gone. While familiar, the low sting of this isn’t lost on you. Stretching out into his side of the bed—technically, it’s all his side of the bed, considering you’re the one who consistently overtakes more of his apartment as time goes by—you watch the morning light grow brighter. There’s a stack of books on your bedside, each curated for you. This is how you two are; you read, and work, and miss him. He comes back, invariably, sometimes a little bruised or quiet in his contemplation of what he sees, but he always comes back.

It’s only after you’ve pulled yourself out of bed and padded towards the kitchen that you hear a faint gurgle, followed by the rush of steam. A smile breaks across your face, and once you round the corner you see him. He’s fiddling with the Moka pot you bought him for Christmas, absorbed in the mechanics of the safety valve. He doesn’t see you for a few moments, eyes narrowed as he focuses. A small smile forms on his face as you walk towards him, crossing the kitchen counter with your arms outstretched.

You press into his side, burying your face into the warmth of his shoulder. It’s easier than you think you deserve; this is a way of holding you, too. Still working on the coffee pot, he lifts his arm and pulls you close.

“Good morning,” He mutters, pushing his glasses further up his nose. “The air pressure is too high.” You nod sagely, wrapping your arms around his waist. He eventually settles and pours the coffee, golden brown and just how you like it, into two mugs. You hum contentedly, watching as he stirs creamer in.

“I would have used the espresso machine if you had asked,” you point out, eyes flicking up to his. You hold your mug delicately; it’s hot, and you think you may have worn the ceramic out. It’s only been a few months since he gave it to you, insisting that the “World’s Best Lawyer” inscription was fitting. The rest of your mugs are now collecting dust in the cabinet, forever unused. “I was awake.”

He presses a kiss to your cheek, his stubble scratching against your skin. You smile against him, and gently clink the rim of your mug against his. After you’ve both sipped, he speaks.

“I wanted to make some for you,” he says. He takes another sip, this time narrowing his eyes. “It’s not very good.”

You set your mug down, and reach for him. Pressing kisses to each part of his face—both his cheeks, then his forehead, then his nose, then that freckle you like on the cut of his jaw—you disagree. You sink back onto your feet after you’re satisfied, watching his blush deepen as you pull away.

“It's perfect.” His face brightens a little, and this spurs you forward. Any apprehension about being this cheesy is absolved by the way he’s looking at you.

“I mean, you probably could have done better. You’re better at measuring.” He counters, just because he knows it will make you smile.

“I love it. Because it’s you.” You mumble against the rim of your mug, grinning wickedly, and you’re caught off guard when he reaches for you, catching you in a kiss and holding you tightly. Your arms around his neck, you grin. You decide mornings are your new favorite time of day.

taglist <3

@everyonesfavoritepipecleaner @coldlilheart @idonotexiste @aberrant-annie @onyourfingertips @bakugouswh0r3 @uptowngotmedown @infinite-tides @chaosconcerns @littlewritersinspace @okivia @forever-not-gonna-sink @insert-gay-here @just-another-persona123 @winniemjf @jammiebirch @thedancingnerdmermaid @the-chaotic-cow @briefgoateeking @ceridwen-02 @rare-breed-of-human

#agh it's over :( but in a good way i hope #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid series #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #rorywrites #like you a latte

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dropofgoldensun · 4 years ago

Text

tag game !

(aka a rather long overdue compilation of things i’ve been tagged in)

— tagged by: @luvdsc @dreamystuffers @markleebee @jongins-tiddies ◦

— tagging: @eggyukhei @aqiaquas ◦

tag games #1, #2, and #3: handwriting games

first handwriting tag:

url + sideblogs

favorite quote(s)

works in progress

tagging

second handwriting tag:

biases

bias wreckers

idols you’ve been shipped with

urls of your mutuals

third handwriting tag:

hello

numbers 1 - 9

the alphabet, upper- and lowercase

the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog

a quote or something else of your choosing (but i already did it in pt. 2)

tag game #4: playlist

rules: shuffle all the songs in your library and list the first ten.

so good by red velvet

i by taeyeon

really by blackpink

drama by txt

0 mile by nct 127

naughty by irene & seulgi

life goes on by bts

9-teen by seventeen

betcha by baekhyun

after midnight by wayv

tag game #5: writer

which element writer are you?

dust writer:

It's hard to combine air and earth, and you are the proof that impossible is just a word. You mix the patience behind the creation of long stories, with the lightness of air, and its force. Your prompts are the best, interesting, funny, and creating infinite possibilities and universes in front of them. Your words carry the reader in new and unexplored worlds, you give them wings and the whole sky. You can give a just taste and it's too good to stop. Your readers become your fans, because your writing gets them addicted. Your words can have an aftertaste of sadness sometimes, but mainly you like to show the feelings, like to let them really exist, without apologies. You're the writer that's born with the ability to touch the deepest floor of an abyss and, at the same time, smile while sitting on the clouds. Dust writers are a breathing miracle that make readers reach heights that others can only dream of.

tag game #6: aesthetics

soft. 09/20.

dark academia. 09/20.

edgy. 04/20.

seventies. 05/20.

preppy casual. 10/20.

luvcat. 06/20.

april. –/20

#tag games

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yunkiwii · 4 years ago

Text

tattoos together | college au

Pairing: FWB!Seonghwa x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff დ

Warnings: slightly suggestive, drinking, language

Word Count: ~3k

Requested: no, but you can see how to do so here if you’d like!

A/N: I recommend listening to tattoos together by lauv, since this is based on that song. ♡

Summary: (y/n) met Seonghwa in college and they quickly became close, ending up as friends with benefits. On a night out with some friends both of them ended up drinking a bit to much and well, I think we all know where this is going.

⇘

“Whereee shouuuuld weee go next?” (y/n) asked, loudly, as she grabbed Seonghwa’s arm so she wouldn’t fall, being tipsy from all the wine she had been drinking with her friends at dinner.

“You should probably head back home before you hurt yourself or someone else.”

“Don’t be a mood killer, sweetie!” (y/n) groaned back to Mia, pointing a finger to her way too sober roommate and best friend. "We still have a long long night ahead of us!" (y/n) stumbles making Seonghwa hold her closer to him.

Seonghwa wasn't nearly as drunk as (y/n), just tipsy enough to go on board with her crazy plans without thinking twice.

"So, let’s go find a party to crash!" the boy started walking away from his friends dragging a smiley faced (y/n) with him, both clearly more intoxicated than the rest of the group.

They hadn’t gone far, mainly because of how slow their feet were moving, when Hongjoong intervened.“Guys! Wait up!” they stumbled on their own feet when turning around to look at their friend. Their two friends were already approaching them. “Do you guys really think it is a good idea to just wander around like that?”

“YES!” both stated firmly at the same time before bursting into laughter.

“Well, I’m not in the mood and since you’re both adults you can take good care of yourselves.” Mia shrugged her shoulders and was about to leave when she remembered something else, “Please be quiet when you get home, and be safe.” She threw a warning look at Seonghwa when saying the last words. She knew how crazy her best friend could get with a couple of drinks and a party, and Seonghwa had a strong effect upon (y/n) that Mia never understood, and she only hoped he would use it for (y/n)’s sake.

“I’ll take you home, Mia. See you tomorrow guys.” Hongjoong did a little run to catch up to the girl. The other two friends bursted into laughter again when they saw Hongjoong place an arm around Mia’s shoulder.

“Now we know why they wanted to go home so badly…”

“Oh Seonghwa, they’re not like us. They will probably just cuddle for now. Let’s go!” (y/n) grabbed the boy’s hand and started her demand to find a party again.

“What do you mean they’re not likes us? We also cuddle!” (y/n) giggled at how offended Seonghwa sounded.

“Hm you know, they want a real relationship, we’re just friends having fun. Besides, our cuddles are never just cuddling.” She said it like it wasn’t a big deal and didn’t really think much of it. Seonghwa on the other hand got hurt, he didn’t quite understand why though. They agreed from the very start that this was a casual friends with benefits kind of thing, nothing more.

He shook these thoughts out of his head, thinking perhaps it was just the alcohol speaking.

In the meantime (y/n) uploaded a story of them on Instagram asking if there were any parties they could crash. That story led them to a new club that had opened recently, making (y/n) almost run there out of excitement. This was her first night out in two months, after being trapped between her room and the library to study for exams. Now she was finally free and wanted to live it to the fullest, Seonghwa not minding at all to join in.

Unfortunately, the excitement soon turns into disappointment. They get to the club, ID’s in hand, bodies already moving to the muffled beat leaving the building, but the security guard stops them from going any further. They look at each other and back at the big, buffy man, that blocked the entrance with his arm, with confused looks. They had already showed their ID’s, it didn’t make sense.

Then, the guard pointed at (y/n)’s clothes. She was wearing black shorts, fishnet tights, combat boots and the piece of clothing that seemed to be the problem, an oversized boyfriend style t-shirt.

“You can’t come in with boy’s clothes.” The big man stated, without an ounce of emotion in his voice.

“WHAT?” (y/n)’s posture changed completely; a defiant look marked all over her face, “That doesn’t make any sense! These aren’t boy’s clothes; these are MY CLOTHES! And even if they were boy’s clothes, we live in a free country, I can wear whatever I want!”

“Then go wear whatever you want somewhere else. You can’t come in like that, it’s the club’s policy.”

“Fuck the club’s policy! That’s so unethical what the hell?! I can’t believe people were recommending me this shit hole!” (y/n) screamed into the guard’s face, pointing fingers, waving arms and when she was finished, she spat on his shoes. Yes, she spat. Seonghwa grabbed her hand immediately pulling her out of there before they got into trouble, and ran away into nowhere, just wanting to get away.

“I’ll make sure to fill a complaint later.” Seonghwa stated after catching his breath from the unplanned cardio. “Also, I think this run sobered me.”

“I can’t believe that wearing oversized clothes is breaking club’s policy, what the hell?” (y/n) sat on the sidewalk still annoyed with the situation. “I’ve would’ve spat on his face if he weren’t to be that freaking huge.” Seonghwa laughed loudly sitting down next to her, making her laugh as well. “Thank you for pulling me out, he could probably smash me with one hand.”

“That’s what I’m here for (y/n), Mia delegated me the job when she decided to go home. But I got to say, you scare me sometimes.” He bumped his shoulder on hers lightly, making her look up at him smiling. “What should we do now? Go home?”

“I guess... the night is ruined anyway, and I also think the run sobered me.” (y/n) chuckled, leaning her head to rest on the boy’s shoulder. This simple gesture almost made Seonghwa forget how to breathe, starting to feel funny things in his stomach. He remained as still and quiet as possible, afraid that even the slightest movement would make her stand up and break the contact.

They stayed like that for a while, still recovering from the run. Until (y/n) noticed something right in front of them that made her stand up with a sudden movement, startling Seonghwa. She widened her eyes and looked down at her friend, as happy as a kid opening Christmas’ presents.

“What?”

“This night can still be memorable! I’m a genius!” she started crossing the road, stopping in the middle to look at her friend, still standing up from the sidewalk. “Come one! Hurry up!”

Seonghwa could not believe how a person could change their mood that fast. A few moments ago, she was pouty, annoyed, angry, and just wanted to go home. But now, she looks like a child and is ready for a new adventure as if nothing had happened before. He did love that about her. Love? Wait, no what? He liked her, liked, as a friend. He was sure of it. Or was he?

“How?”

“How what?”

“How are you going to make this night memorable?” that question made her smile even wider, grabbing his hand for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night, dragging him to a small shop with a neon light sign. As soon as Seonghwa realised what it was he stepped back.

“No, (y/n), no way you’re getting a tattoo here!” his face expression was shock, and nothing else.

“No, I am not. We are!”

“What do you even know about this place? Is it even hygienic?” Seonghwa glanced over the tattoo shop with disgust.

“I don’t know,” (y/n) shrugged her shoulders, “but we should get inside and find out.” She stepped in without a care in the world, a little bell rang when she opened the door.

Seonghwa walked behind her looking around, analysing every small detail searching for any red flags that would tell him to get the hell out of there. So far, everything seemed nice, it was organized, the store overall seemed clean, and the tattoo drafts hung upon the walls were actually aesthetically pleasing.

“This doesn’t look so bad… but what kind of tattoo shop is opened until this late at night?” The boy wasn’t yet convinced, and (y/n) knew it would take him a while, being as cautious as he is.

“Stop being so septic about everything, Hwa!”

“May I help you?” a voice coming from behind them made (y/n) jump. A tall woman came out of the side door, probably leading to where the tattoos were made, and greeted them with a smile. “Sorry if I startled you, love.”

“Oh, hm, we want to get tattoos! Together!” Seonghwa glanced over at (y/n) wondering why she was being so weird and flustered all of a sudden, so lost looking at her that he didn’t even corrected the together part. But he went back to reality when the woman spoke again.

“So, you want matching tattoos?”

“NO! We don’t, I don’t, I haven’t agreed to this yet! (y/n), a word please?”

“We’ll be right back!” (y/n) said all smiley to the woman, who smiled back at her while she was basically being dragged to the outside again. “What the hell Hwa? You could’ve been nicer back there!”

“You are all heart eyed looking at that tattoo artist!”

“So what? … are you jealous Hwa?”, (y/n) smirked, tilting her head sweetly, pleased with how annoyed the boy looked about the situation.

“What? No! I don’t have any reason to be jealous, this,” he pointed between them,” this isn’t a relationship, so no, I’m not jealous. You wish. And don’t give me that look!”

“You look cute when you get nervous, Hwa.”

“Shut up, let’s just go home!” he said as he started to walk away, but (y/n) was stubborn and wouldn’t leave without a tattoo so she stood in front of him so he wouldn’t go any further.

“We haven’t gotten our tattoos yet. And I really want a tattoo on my thigh and I really want to do it with you!”, she pointed her index at him touching his chest slightly.

“Why though?”

“Because I don’t have any thigh tattoo yet, duh..”

“And you should get one, there’s plenty of space for it.” He smirked glancing at (y/n)’s thick thighs, getting a soft punch on his shoulder as a response. “But why with me? Do I really have to make one too?”

“Yes! I really want us to have something ours, I have one with Mia as well and you’re my only other best friend and I don’t want to lose you.”

“And how will a tattoo help you with that, huh?” he crossed his arms looking down at (y/n) with furrowed eyebrows.

“When I get mad at Mia for some reason and I want to hate her, I look at the tattoo we made together and it just brings back all the good stuff and I know everything will be okay, because at the end of the day we still love each other and that won’t change over a stupid fight.” The girl gets embarrassed as soon as she realises that she just shared something that until now was only hers, making her look down at her feet. “You probably think it’s silly and that’s okay, we won’t do it if you don’t want to.” Voice quieter than before, barely audible but Seonghwa heard her just fine.

“Okay, let’s get thigh tattoos. Together.”

(y/n)’s eyes widened at the statement, and the looks of happiness and excitement of before came back to life again, making Seonghwa laugh at how adorable his friend looked.

“Really? Thank you so much Hwa!!!” she hugged his torso so tightly that he almost went out of breath.

“I have one condition though. To make it more fun, you know?” (y/n) nodded, indicating him to proceed, “I pick a design for you and you one for me, and we can only see it after it is already tattooed on our skin. What do you say?”

“Uhhh that does sound like fun! But don’t make it too big nor too dark, please!” he nodded in agreement and they went back inside to pick the said designs.

They shared their idea with the tattoo artist, who got really excited about it and took them, one at the time, into the other room to discuss their ideas and bring them to life. (y/n) picked a woman’s body silhouette, besides looking really cool it just made sense since their friendship started as something more physical than emotional. Seonghwa on the other hand chose a minimalist alien, it reminded him of when they first met and (y/n) couldn’t pronounce his name correctly and would just call him alien face, he also asked the tattoo artist to make it face her so she wouldn’t have to look into a mirror to see it properly.

(y/n) went in first to get her right thigh tattooed, so excited that she didn’t bother to take off her clothes, simply ripping her tights in the spot she wanted the tattoo.

“Hm ok, that was hot!” Seonghwa said softly, trying to control himself avoiding looking at (y/n)’s now more exposed thigh.

“Keep it in your pants, Mr. Park.” (y/n) laughed as she laid down to finally get the tattoo her dear friend picked, getting more and more anxious as the moment approached while Luna got her supplies ready. Seonghwa then pulled a chair to sit next to her and keep her distracted so she wouldn’t try to peak.

After a while, (y/n) stopped feeling the needle puncturing her skin and looked up at Luna, eyes wondering if it was already done. The other woman nodded, and she immediately stood up to see the result, a high pitch squeak leaving her lips as soon as she saw an alien facing her.

“Hwa!! I have your face on my thigh!!” her eyes wide, looking between her leg and her friend, a huge smile on her face and eyes almost tearing up at how happy she was. “I love it, I love it, I love it!” she wrapped her arms around the boy’s neck and gave him a kiss on his left cheek, squeezing him against her and holding him there for a few seconds before pulling away. “Now it’s your turn! Go, go!”

Seonghwa got up right away and started to take his pants off, making (y/n) look away.

“Please (y/n), as if you’ve never seen me naked!” he chuckled throwing his pants at her as soon as got them completely off, catching her off guard making her laugh.

They repeated the same process, now with (y/n) seated in the chair keeping Seonghwa distracted by making terrible puns and dad jokes. The needle puncturing his skin stang a bit but, just like (y/n), he already had a few tattoos, so he got used to it quickly. When Luna finished the second tattoo of this iconic duo, as she started to call them, Seonghwa couldn’t help but laugh at (y/n)’s choice.

“This will certainly remind me of you and make me hate you a little less if it comes to that.” He chuckled making (y/n) blush a bit without him noticing. “Thank you for talking me into this, it’s a memorable night for sure.” And kissed her cheek, not as roughly as she did to him, it was a soft kiss, his lips barely touching her skin, and yet it was enough to make her even more flustered, awakening funny feelings in her tummy.

After spending all that money on the tattoos, they decided it would be best for their bank accounts to walk home instead of getting an uber, making their way across town to (y/n) and Mia’s apartment in a slow pace, most of the way made in silence for they were too tired and sleepy, needing to channel all their remain energy towards their legs to be able to walk.

As they were approaching (y/n)’s building their pace slowed down, stopping right in front of the pathway, the girl already looking for the keys in her messy bag while walking towards the front door.

“See you tomorrow (y/n)” he says as they reach the door, (y/n) with the keys in hand already opening the door, and he places a kiss on her forehead not breaking the contact right away. (y/n) didn’t say anything until he was already halfway the pathway.

“Hwa, wait.”

“Huh?” the boy turned around, standing near the sidewalk.

“Why don’t you stay for the night?” she asked almost in a whisper, but Seonghwa heard it anyway and took a few steps closer to her.

“Oh (y/n), I would but I’m really tired and-”

“Just for cuddles, Hwa…” she tried to keep her eyes in his but the vulnerability her request showed made her instinctually look down at her feet.

“Just cuddles? Are you sure?” Seonghwa couldn’t hide his amusement, since (y/n) always made it clear that to her the benefits part of their friendship should be associated with sex at all times because, according to her, getting emotional and cuddle just for the sake of cuddling would turn this into a real and serious relationship, even though the boy tried to convince her otherwise multiple times.

“Shut up and get in before I change my mind.”

They went up to the apartment as quietly as possible, making their way to (y/n)’s bedroom right away and changing into more comfortable clothing, which to Seonghwa meant underwear and nothing more.

He laid on his back wrapping an arm around (y/n)’s shoulders as she laid her head onto his chest, embracing his torso and putting one leg over his. It was comfortable, warm, and felt safe, for both of them.

“This still doesn’t mean we’re in a relationship Hwa.” (y/n) groaned falling deeply into sleep.

“We could be though.” But (y/n) didn’t hear it.

♡MASTERLIST♡

net: @ateezlovenet

#reposted from lemonadewritings #ateezlovenet #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa college au #ateez seonghwa fluff #ateez seonghwa college au #seonghwa one shot

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the-fiction-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Love Angel x P8 42nd Street

TV SHOW: THE QUEENS GAMBIT COUPLE BENNY X READER RATING: SMUT!

Hi” Angel giggled from my floor as she sat in her little black panties and my grey button down done up enough for her not to be completely bare breasted but undone enough I could still see most of her

“Hi,” I smiled to her , returning my focus to my board, making notes where I needed to “Comfy?” I asked her as she was sat there on a pillow her back bend over a little so her head was upside down looking at me

“Very comfy.” she giggled “I’d be comfier with my sexy cowboy beside me”

“Would you now? I thought you said we needed to go out today?”

“I don’t need to go out I want to go out benny”

“Fine, where do you wanna go?”

“I don’t know, you know new york better than I do” she giggled “Take me some place fun”

“I will, when you get some clothes on”

“Uughhhh but I’m comfy” she whines

“You can’t be serious? You’d get arrested walking down the street like that”

“Don’t I look Beautiful?”

“Yes, you look very beautiful angel but I don’t know how new york traffic will do with you walking down the street like that” “Fine, I’m not wearing a bra though” she says getting up and going to the bedroom where most of her clothes were not hung up

“I never said you had to, simply saying you should probably put clothes on so you don’t get arrested for having your tits out.” I laughed getting up to get my belt and jacket too

“Don’t you like me with my tit’s out?” she giggled as she had taken my shirt off and was now in just her black panties wrapping her arms around my neck I smirked cradling her waist

“I do, you look so very beautiful with your perky breasts out but… I’m the only one who gets to see it” I smirked giving her a intense kiss

“That's enough” she smirked moving back and going back to the bedroom,

“Evil little angel” I smirked getting my belt on,

“It’s fun” she giggled getting a dress on

“Umm fun”

“Where are you taking me?” she giggled

“Somewhere fun” I told her sitting down to sort my wallet out

“Ummm what kinda fun?” she smirked coming over in her little black dress she smirked at me and put her foot up on my thigh as she slowly tugs her stockings up her legs

“You’ll find out angel” He smirked blowing her a kiss

“Could you help me?” she giggled as she pulled her stocking up to the little clips on her panties

“Alright angel” I told her giving her knee a little kiss fixing her stockings for her,

“Thank you” she smiled petting my hair moving her leg away "other one?" She giggled putting her other leg on my thigh so I smirked and kissed her bare skin as I pulled up the stockings soft nylon and attached the little clips for her

"Come on, we have stuff to do" I smirked slapping her butt before going and getting my jacket and hat, she got her shoes and her backpack so I took her hand and ushered her out the apartment and up to my car.

I did my best to keep where we were going and secret parking a little far away so we could walk but I think she knew, as soon as we turned onto the bussling, flashing, impressive 42nd street. She smiled hugging me tightly giving me a sweet kiss before she ran off with her backpack to explore, I followed her watching the neon light and cinema signs light casgading across her face and hair as she smiled so widely eventually I had to rain her in a little as she was getting lost a little too often and I didn't want to loose her in the crowds we stopped at the little mcdonald's getting something for dinner

"This is like the fanciest mcdonald's I've ever eaten in" she says having her fries

"Kinda, there's one in uhhh fuck where is it. I think in Vegas or something the fucking signs make out of diamonds" I told her

"You'll have to take me someday" she giggled

"Maybe I will" I winked as I finished up "so? As we're here. You wanna go see a movie?"

"Yeah"

"Anything you wanna see?"

"I spotted one that looked cool on the way in, but we got time, besides I need my picture" she smiled as she finished her food taking her cup with her as she stood I followed her out and she got settled sat in the subway railing handing me her camera,

I looked thought trying to get in central and nice even with all these people rushing past and cars in the background,

"Maybe smile a little more angel?" I joked and her response to that was to sip her drink and out her middle finger up at me, I managed to get a nice one of her sat there sipping her drinks straw the signs illumining her in a beautiful way her dress flashing a little leg, so much you could see her stockings top and the clips to hold them and of course her flipping me off, I took it over shaking the picture up and handing it to her

"awww Benny, it's perfect" she giggled giving my cheek a kiss "your turn" she smiled jumping down and taking the camera back I wasn't sure what to do so I just leant against the railing as she got the camera sorted I tried to pose I guess this is alot different then doing it for chess magazines, I slipped my hat off holding it in my hand as I learnt my arms on the railing "smile more" she joked so I laughed at her and put my middle finger up at her too and she ran back shaking the picture "aww you look very handsome" she smiled "come on cowboy we'll miss our movie" she giggled putting her camera away and tugging my hand I slipped my hat back on and followed her to this little theater I didn't see what they where showing but she got us each tickets "you wait here I need to powder my nose" she smiled giving my lips a little kiss and she rushed off I tried to look aeouthe place and it wasn't busy, maybe this wasn't a popular movie, there wasn't even a person at the snack counter, there wasn't even fresh popcorn in the machine at all, just a few bags of things and a tray in a little heating section with pretzels the chocolate in the slightly melting, ooww I wanted a pretzel, I'm sorry my chocolaty salty pretzel freind I cannot have you for there is no worker here… I mean I could reach it, but angel came back so I gave her a kiss and we headed back to where the actual screen was and it hasn't even started yet, there was a few people here but not many even given this didn't have alot of seats a couple down the front, a few werid looking guys here and there but that was about it we sat side by side at the back getting comfy putting out stuff on the seats beside us and I put my arm around her

"What are we seeing anyway?" I asked her

"Something I think you'll like" she smiled nuzzling her head into my neck as the lights went down more and the crackle of the film began as the screen came on I watched the credits confused by a few things, listening to the slow almost jazz style music that accompanied them as angel got cosy on me

"Angel? What is this?" I asked her as the credits finished and I began to watch the movie, I was a little confused but watched on that's a pretty woman, aww I think he likes her, oh no time for that time for dentistry, okay so he get some drugs makes him… ohhh… ooohhh… "angel" I whispered a little in shock "you know exactly what this is you evil little thing didn't you?"

"Yes" she whispered back kissing down my neck, as that woman got tied to the dentist's chair, he began kissing her and taking her clothes off I smirked and gently kissed up her neck as she moved her hand her eyes still fixed on the screen, putting her hand on my thigh

"Umm such a bad little angel" I groaned trying to fight with myself between staring at angel and staring at the screen I reached her lips and she passionately kissed me so I happily kissed her back making out with those soft lips hearing the sounds from the movie, the music and the squeals and moans of that woman I glanced to the screen as we kissed seeing that woman completely naked him biting in her breasts and spreading her legs to fuck her I knew how hard I was getting just watching it and from kissing angel, she smirked into our kiss moving her hand to stroke my crotch, I did my best not to moan feeling her soft hands rubbing in my forming erection as we made out till I pulled back "I take it… this is on your list somewhere?" I asked her undoing my belt not completely but enough she could slip her hand in if she wanted pressing my face against her so we could both see the screen as that woman got fucked hard against a dentist chair and I ran my hand across her thigh even higher gently rubbing in her though her dress but the moment I did I noticed something "ummm you bad bad girl. You didn't powder your nose, you took your panties off" I whispered give her lips a hard kiss "no panties, no bra, rubbing on my cock in a fucking porno theater" I smirked staring at her

"Yeah?" She whispered sounding breathy and sultry

"You are the best girl I've ever met" I groaned pulling her back to our make out as the film for even more intense hearing that movie moaning in my ear while making out with angel was driving me crazy but she knew it was she she wound me up more by slipping her beautiful hand down my jeans rubbing and stroking me over my boxers my hands instantly knew she was fair game if she's touching me so I grabbed her sexy breasts groping them and squeezing when I could trying hard not to moan moving one hand of those perfect beasts to slipp under her dress gently rubbing in her glistening clit I opened my eyes to glance at the screen seeing how not much hand changes still passionate sex going on, but I did notice something else, that couple in the seats at the front were gone, maybe this isn't what they wanted or it was and they wanted to go home..m I'll be honest that sounds pretty good right now, maybe not home. Maybe my car…. Or the bathroom. Leaving us as the only couple, everyone else watching the movie was some weird guys all sat alone but I noticed a guy a row of seats between him and us, he was turned away from the screen I thought a moment maybe we made a noise and he wanted to see what it was or something but we where quiet but our kissing noises and that would have been almost inaudible over the screaming of the movie, and he just sat there still looking at us I pulled back from the kiss but she kept kissing up and down my neck leaving a love bite on me I kept an eye on him making eye contact so he knew I saw him but still he didn't move "angel. I think that guy's watching us" I whispered to her slightly moving my hand away not wanting to let him see what we where doing even if he mostly likely already knew hence why he was watching she stopped and looked over at him

"Yeah maybe" she shurgs but she turned my face back to her "let him watch" she smirked moving up the arm rest between our seats moving a little onto my lap as we kissed, so she was only just perched in my knees so I could still rub in her I even slipped a finger inside her watching her jucies drip down my fingers her hand going fast practical jerking me off as we made out, the nosies getting louder as the sex in the movie got more intense

"I Wanna fuck you so bad angel" I whispered to her

"Then fuck me cowboy" she giggled I smirked pulling her back to our kiss taking my hand away returning it to her breasts as she moved her hand away too so I pulled her hips to sit right on my lap grinding against her slightly as we kissed when suddenly the sound stopped.

And the lights came on

"Oh. The movies over" I sighed "I was enjoying that"

"Umm me too" she giggled "aww I didn't get to see how it ends" she whines

"Well I'll tell you how it ends, the woman and the man both went home and fucked hard until they came." I smiled to her

"Sounds like a nice ending"

"It does, so… shall we head home and wrap this up?"

"Okay" she giggled getting her things and slipping her backpack in as I got my jacket and hat back in doing my belt up properly again as I did she slipped something in my pocket and headed out to the stairs I put my hand in pulling slightly out her soft cotton panties "you coming cowboy?"

"Fuck yeah angel" I smirked happily following her.

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taylorlynn-art · 4 years ago

Text

⭐️ Underneath It All ⭐️

by Strawberry Moon Rose

🍓🌙🌹

This is a one-shot I conjured poking fun at how based on appearance, Sailor Moon characters can really confuse a person. Taking place in the anime world, but with the Starlights cross-dressing like in the manga instead of using a physical disguise.

Also, it got me thinking, what if the Sailor Starlights came to Earth at the end of SuperS? It had to have taken a while to establish their idol group before debuting.

Disclaimer: I do not own Sailor Moon or any of the characters. They belong to Naoko Takeuchi.

🍸

Soft jazz music drifts lazily around the bar. The flashy neon light of orange and green illuminates the Amazon Trio as they sip from their drinks in hand. Ice cubes slosh and clink as Tigers-Eye slams his glass down on the table in frustration.

"Man, we got scolded again," he complains. "And we're doing our best too..."

"She doesn't have to yell at us like that," Hawks-Eye agrees. "If catching Pegasus were that easy, we would have found him by now!"

Fish-Eye tips his head back daintily, sipping from his cocktail glass. "There are just so many targets, how are we supposed to know which one he's hiding in? It's like finding a needle in a haystack."

Hawks-Eye brushes through the photographs scattered across the bar top. "Hmm... None of these women are really catching my eye." He plucks a snapshot of a girl with braids and waves it in Tigers-Eye's face, knowing he has a thing for younger chicks. "What about this one? You interested?" he inquires.

Tigers-Eye yawns. "Too plain."

"How 'bout this?" Hawks-Eye tries again. If Tigers-Eye doesn't do something, he'll have to do something, and he isn't in the mood for another failure and reprimanding from the old hag, Zirconia.

"Too old."

"And this one?"

Tigers-Eye makes a face and waves his hand dismissively. "Ugh, not another guy. See if Fish-Eye wants him," he says.

"What? Where? Lemme see!" Fish-Eye slides off his stool and squeezes between his cronies. Hearts form in his blue eyes when he catches a glimpse of the target. "Oh my gosh! You're kidding!" He snatches the photograph out of Hawks-Eye's hand so fast it's nothing but a blur.

"What're you getting so excited about? He's not nearly as handsome as I am," Tigers-Eye says, unable to conceal the tinge of jealousy in his voice.

"He's right," Hawks-Eye boasts. "We're much more good-looking."

"You two don't know who this is?" Fish-Eye asks incredulously.

Tigers-Eye and Hawks-Eye stare at their friend.

"It's Seiya Kou from the Three Lights!" Fisheye kisses the picture and twirls around. "I'm so lucky!"

"Never heard of him," Hawks-Eye comments in a voice as flat as cardboard.

"Me neither." Tigers-Eye tosses his orange hair. "He must not be that popular."

But Fish-Eye isn't listening to them. "Oh my, I wonder what kind of girls he likes? How should I approach him?

Tigers-Eye and Hawks-Eye swivel around in their seats and reach for their drinks. By now they know it's useless trying to talk to him when he goes gaga over a target.

"Cross-dressing again?" Hawks-Eye sounds bored.

"Why, of course!" Fisheye gazes dreamily at the glossy portrait. The celeb is clad in a red suit and yellow tie. A bright rose is stuffed in the breast pocket. Ebony bangs fall messily above spunky blue eyes, accompanied by a microphone and crooked smile.

Fish-Eye giggles. Seiya Kou... Even your name is beautiful! I'll seduce you for sure!

🎸

"Thank you! Goodnight everybody!" The lead singer gives a final wave into the sea of faces. The crowd erupts into applause as the Three Lights exit the stage. It's a warm Saturday night and they just wrapped up their second concert at the venue.

"Great job tonight, guys. They absolutely loved you." Their manager gives each member a pat on the back.

"Thank you, sir," Taiki replies politely. "We did our best."

Seiya accepts a towel from a stage worker and dabs the sweat off her forehead. She cranes her head up to the night sky, breathing heavily. Princess... Where are you now? Can you hear our message? They have only been on Earth for two months, but she and the others are already used to cross-dressing as a boy band.

"Seiya, we are heading back to change," Taiki calls over her shoulder.

"You coming or what?" Yaten taps her foot impatiently.

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Seiya shakes her head and follows them down the corridor to their dressing rooms. The high from performing hasn't worn off yet, and she hums the whole way, a bounce in her step.

Once she reaches her assigned room, Seiya shuts the door and starts collecting her things. The open window allows a humid breeze to drift in, carrying the sweet fragrance of a beautiful spring night - cherry blossoms and rain. She can still hear the murmurs of the crowd in the distance.

Knock. Knock.

"Come in!" the Starlight calls absentmindedly, figuring it's Taiki or Yaten.

Creak... The door creeps open. When Seiya glances up, she catches her breath.

Standing against the door frame appears to be one of the most gorgeous women Seiya's ever seen before. The beauty's pale-blue hair is tied in a high ponytail that cascades in lustrous waves to her hips. She wears a flowing white dress and strappy sandals.

It's like she forgot how to speak. "Can I help you?" Seiya clears her throat and quickly fluffs her hair.

Fish-Eye smiles and brushes a stray curl out of his face. "Actually, you can," he says in a high, silky voice.

"Oh? How so?" Whenever a cute girl is in sight, she can't help it - she's always been a flirt.

Fish-Eye giggles and casually eases the door shut behind him. "I really enjoyed the concert, Seiya. You shine like a true star out there. I was wondering if I could get a souvenir of some sort to make the experience all the more memorable..."

"I'm flattered," Seiya replies smoothly. She closes the distance between them in a few swift steps, drinking in Fish-Eye's sparkly perfume. "What do you have in mind?"

"An autograph would be wonderful." Fish-Eye bats his mascara-coated lashes. "But anything from a superstar like you would make me the happiest fan in the world."

A grin spreads across Seiya's face. They gaze at each other for a few seconds, holding a teasing conversation with their eyes. Seiya reaches for a blank notebook resting on the nearby table and pulls a marker out of her pocket. Gliding close to the pretty stranger, she says, "And to whom shall I make this autograph out to?"

"To 'Sakana'," Fish-Eye says breezily.

"Sakana, huh?" Seiya smiles quizzically at him. "That's a cute name you have."

"You think so?"

Squeak, squeak, goes the marker as Seiya scribbles out the autograph. She signs her name with a flourish, tears the paper out of the notebook, and hands it to Fish-Eye. "There you are," she declares.

"Oh, thank you so much! An autograph from my favorite male idol! I'll treasure it forever!"

Still smiling, Seiya puts her hands in her pockets. "Anything else I can help you with...?"

Fish-Eye carefully folds the autograph into his purse. "Oh, perhaps there is..." he purrs.

"Yeah?"

"But it's a bit of a secret..." Fish-Eye fingers Seiya's collar, pulling playfully on her tie.

"I'm intrigued," she whispers.

Fish-Eye stands on his tiptoes and whispers enticingly into Seiya's ear, "I'd like to get to know you better..."

"Is that so?"

He outlines the buttons on Seiya's jacket. "These ties can be tricky, can't they? Let me assist you in taking it off..."

Seiya chuckles. "That sounds quite tempting, but you see, I have to go soon... The others are waiting for me," she answers honestly, regretfully.

"Oh, they can wait, can't they?" If Fish-Eye gets any closer, they'll be a grilled cheese sandwich.

"I'm sorry." Unwillingly, Seiya gently pushes him off her. "You're extremely attractive, Sakana, but... I can't. I wish I could, but I can't."

Fish-Eye draws back as if he'd been slapped across the face. He widens his eyes innocently. "Why not?"

'Because you'd find out I'm a woman and then our image would be ruined', Seiya wants to say, but responds, "I'm not who you think I am."

"What do you mean? I know who you are. You're just making an excuse, aren't you?"

"No, I-"

"Fine." Fish-Eye steps back. The corners of his mouth crumple into a scowl. "I see how it is. I guess it's goodbye to you then, isn't it?"

Before Seiya can respond, a blue curtain appears out of the air and drops over Fish-Eye with a whoosh. It raises to reveal his true self - bubbly blue outfit, scaly hands, and black Amazon marking on his forehead.

"Who are-?!" Seiya stumbles back.

"ONE!" A red board rises from under the floorboards, slamming into the Starlight's back.

"TWO!" Cold, metal clamps bind Seiya's wrists and ankles.

"THREE!"

Seiya screams as her dream mirror emerges, taking shape bit by bit. Harsh light blinds her, and wind whips her hair all over. It feels like someone is reaching into her chest and ripping out her insides. What's going on? What is this?!

Once it stops, she slumps forward in exhaustion, supported only by the painful cuffs pinning her to the plank.

"Now to take a look inside your beautiful dream mirror!" Fish-Eye saunters towards the trapped idol. He grabs hold of the glowing mirror on both sides. It's shining brighter than any one he's seen before! His eyes glimmer in hope. Could this be the home of Pegasus after all?

"Y-You lied to me! Who are you really?" Seiya shouts, raising her head. It's obvious by the flat chest and deep voice that this monster is male, and on top of that, the enemy! How could she fall into his trap? Anger and humiliation course through her veins. She thrashes harder, but cannot break free.

Fish-Eye chuckles, but doesn't reply. He stretches the mirror on both sides like putty and dives his head inside her dream mirror. Seiya shrieks in agony.

"Where is Pegasus?" he says aloud, looking all over. But instead of finding a winged horse with a golden horn, he sees flowing images of a beautiful, red-haired princess catered by three female guardians in black uniforms.

Fish-Eye throws his head out of the mirror in horror. "H-H-How dare you deceive me! That's my job!" he cries, his voice wavering. I fell for a woman in disguise? Impossible! This can't be right...

Skin crawling and cheeks burning, Fish-Eye stands back. How humiliating! "What a waste of a trip. Well, either way, I suppose you'll have to die now, Seiya. Come out, my Remless! Superstar Daistuaa!"

A creature climbs out of his shadow - a skinny girl with a guitar as a torso and a microphone as a tail. She snaps the cord like a whip and says in a mouse-like voice, "It's showtime!"

"I'm leaving this up to you, Daisutaa," Fish-Eye barks.

"Of course!”

A black hole rimmed with water appears in the air. Fish-Eye does a backwards somersault into it and vanishes.

The dream mirror returns to Seiya's body and the board and restraints disappear. She falls to her knees, feeling dizzy and weak.

"Hello, everybody!" Daisutaa sings. "I'm so happy to be here! I've got a super great show for you!"

Seiya glares up at the Remless. A phage? No, it's different... She reaches into her pocket for her transformation brooch.

"Uh-uh! Please turn off all cell phones and electronic devices during the show!" Daisutaa lunges at Seiya. They crash into the wooden table which breaks into jagged pieces beneath them. Seiya groans, her back throbbing, and tries to throw the Remless off her. Daisutaa's three-inch nails are like knives, poised at her throat.

"Get...off...me!" she grunts, turning her head to the side in a feeble attempt to avoid the monster slicing her jugular.

"You want an encore, you say?" Daisutaa crows. "Alrighty then!"

Bam! The dressing room door slams open, nearly flying off its hinges.

"Star Sensitive Inferno!"

"Star Gentle Uterus!"

The Remless snaps her head up, frozen like a deer in the headlights as the two combined attacks hit her head on. "What? Aghhh! STAGE OUT!" she wails, crumbling to glass. The shadow on the floor fades, and a billow of smoke dissipates in an upright spiral circle. The Dead Moon magic is gone.

"Seiya!" Maker cries, hurrying over to her.

"What happened? We heard you screaming." Healer kneels beside Seiya. "What was that thing? A phage?"

"So they have invaded here too?" Maker murmurs gravely.

Seiya coughs and shakes her head. Grunting, she pulls herself into a sitting position. "No, it was something else..."

Healer helps Seiya to her feet. "Well, either way, it's gone now. Let's hope we never see anything like it again."

"Yeah. Just forget it happened," Seiya mutters, flushing as she recalls Sakana.

She knew she wanted to.

✨

"Back so soon, Fish-Eye?" Tigers-Eye swings around in his chair at the bar.

Ignoring him, Fish-Eye plops down in his usual spot and pours himself a drink. In one sip, he downs the entire thing and reaches to refill the glass.

"Whoa, easy!" Hawks-Eye jokes. "Did it go that bad?"

Tigers-Eye's green eyes dance. "That Seiya dude rejected you, didn't he?" he says gaily.

"Can it, you two," Fish-Eye grumbles, studying his red nail polish. "You don't know the half of it."

"So what happened?" Hawks-Eye asks.

A bloom of red appears in Fish-Eye's cheeks. "Let's just say that underneath it all, Seiya Kou wasn't who I thought he was."

Tigers-Eye smirks. "I could have told you all those boy bands are bogus."

"Shut up, Tigers-Eye. Just shut up."

#sailor moon fanfiction #Seiya Kou #sailor stars #fanfic #story #comedy #one shot #anime #sailor moon fandom #pretty guardian sailor moon #usagi tsukino #star fighter #fish eye #Amazon trio #sailor moon fan #bishoujo senshi sailor moon #strawberry moon rose #AO3

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