#and I wanted to be hiding under or standing on a mushroom

[foldingfittedsheets]

We have successfully returned from an excursion to photograph mushrooms!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Idol II

England Lionesses x Teen!Reader

Summary: Your first call up to the Lionesses

It wasn't you that Sarina had come to evaluate.

It was Grace.

She'd heard great things about Grace Clinton and the idea of putting her into the World Cup squad was tempting which was why she was sat in the freezing cold winter weather in Bristol, trying to see if she could find a way to fit Grace into her midfield at her current level.

But Grace is on the bench, having picked up a slight niggle in the warm up.

So instead of Grace, Sarina finds herself evaluating you instead.

You're by far the smallest and youngest on the pitch, at least two heads shorter than the next smallest and your round baby face makes it clear that you're not anywhere near the next youngest too.

"Er...y/n l/n," One of the staff members replies when Sarina asks who you are," She's currently being looked at for the Under-23s. She's an Under-17 right now."

Sarina frowns. "How old is she?"

"She turned fifteen this August. Her inclusion in the Bristol City team was a surprise to everyone."

Sarina sips on her coffee thoughtfully just as you dance between two defenders and your shot is deflected by the keeper.

The Championship doesn't have the greatest access to camera footage so Sarina's mainly condemned to old youth team footage that's a little unfocussed and shaky.

She hums to herself, fingernails clicking against her desk.

"Hello? Is this Mrs l/n? Hi, this is Sarina Wiegman. I'm calling on behalf of the Lionesses. Yes, about your daughter."

Your coat is two sizes too big and the legs of your trousers have been rolled up a few times, that's one of the first things Keira notices.

The second thing is that your eyes are wide and the smile on your face holds excitement with a hint of nervousness.

She's never seen you before in her life and to even see someone like you at camp is shocking.

She'd been shocked to see a name on the camp list that she didn't recognise, even more shocked when she'd asked around and found that no one really knew who you were.

You walk in with Sarina, tucked under her arm as the introductions are made.

The nervousness is another thing Keira notes, your awkward smile does nothing to hide the way your eyes dart around the area.

"That's the kid Jona was talking about," Lucy says one morning randomly, scoffing down a piece of toast," He said that La Masia were looking to bring her in. She's still on an Academy contract with Bristol City."

"Really?" Georgia asks," You'd think they'd have moved her onto a professional one. Apparently, she's like an integral part to their system. Bristol City are gunning for promotion, I heard."

"She's good," Lucy says as Keira glances over her shoulder to watch you push at your eggs with a wrinkled nose," But her talents are wasted at Bristol."

Georgia flicks a bit of mushroom at her. "Maybe Bayern will have to grab her before you do."

Lucy laughs, pushing herself out from the table. "Well, maybe I should just go and ask her now, shall I? Because I guarantee you, she's going to want to trade England's weather for sunny Spain over Germany."

Georgia stands up too. "Funny. I was going to say that she'd much prefer the food in Germany to the food in Spain. I don't think she likes rice much so she won't like paella."

You're sitting alone at your table, wondering if it's alright to leave the now cold scrambled egg on your plate or if you should force it down so the catering staff don't feel annoyed at your for wasting it.

You practically jump out of your skin as Lucy Bronze and Georgia Stanway slam into the chairs opposite you.

You couldn't look at them - not after meeting Georgia for the first time and mindlessly blurting out her statistics from this season right in front of her.

"So," Lucy says, drumming her fingers on the table," How do you like Spain?"

"Er..."

"Ever been to Germany?" Georgia cuts in," Because, you know, Munich is beautiful this time of year."

"I-"

"Because I was thinking," Lucy continues like Georgia hadn't even spoken," Barcelona is just so nice and warm. You could work on your tan there."

"And of course, there's so many great Christmas markets in the winter," Georgia says," And sometimes we go and visit them as a big team and buy each other stuff."

"Well we do that at Barcelona too. Ingrid has a great list of coffee shops if you're into that kind of thing."

"Sydney knows the best places to grab a bite in the middle of the night."

"Aitana knows-"

A body slumps down into the seat next to you, an arm swung casually over your shoulder.

"You know, Chelsea's the place to be," Millie Bright says," Great manager. Great staff. Great team. We've got it all."

"And how many Champion's Leagues is that?" Lucy asks and Millie kicks her under the table.

"She's not going to any of your teams," Mary interrupts, swinging her feet up and onto the table as she leans back in the chair she stole," Because United are going to have this girl on lock."

The table erupts into laughter and Mary's face drops.

"Hey! It's not funny! We'll see who's laughing next season!"

"Still us," Georgia says," There's no way a kid with this level of talent is going to United! Just you wait, after the World Cup, she's going to have offers flooding in from everywhere.

"Really?" You ask, voice quiet," You really think so?"

You hadn't ever really thought of you future outside of the now. You don't know if you had ever really considered that you were good enough for other people to want. You hadn't ever really considered anyone would take a chance on you like Bristol City did.

"Are you kidding?" Lucy scoffs," Kid, your skills are off the charts at this age! Just you wait, people are going to be clamouring to get you!" She winks. "Just remember to choose the right one."

"The right one being Bayern," Georgia says with grin," Think of the Christmas markets."

"Think of the Barcelona sun."

"Think of being on the best English team."

"Think of..." Mary throws her hands up. "Well how am I supposed to compete with that?!"

"You can't," Lucy laughs with a shrug," Which is why United was never part of the conversation. Face it, Mary, you can't compete with that."

Mary waves her finger around. "Just you wait, I'll have this kid moving to Manchester before this World Cup is over."

A hand falls onto your shoulder and you look up to see Keira standing there, an eye roll already half completed on her face.

"The kid can make her own decisions," She says," She doesn't need you lot badgering her to make one before she has to."

"It's just a bit of fun, Kie," Georgia complains with an eye roll of her own," Sue me if I don't want Barcelona to collect all the best midfielders in the world."

The gentle teasing continues but all you can think of is Georgia's words.

'Collect all the best midfielders in the world'.

She meant you in that conversation as well. She meant to put you in the same bracket as Keira and Bonmatí and Guijarro and Putellas, the staples of Barcelona's midfield.

You stare down at your plate, that stupid bit of cold scrambled egg still sitting on it. You don't know how to react to that.

Say thank you?

Or would that make it weird?

Probably.

You've already embarrassed yourself enough this week. You don't need to do it all over again.

So you just kind of sit there with a shy smile on your face as the older players tease each other around you.

"Don't listen to them," Keira says," Where you go and what you do with your career is all up to you." She winks. "But I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to come along to Barcelona."

[bblairxe]

HI BESTIEEE ITS MEEEE I NEED A CAITLYN FIC RN. I NEED IT TO HAVE PLOT BUT THERES SO SMUT THAT THE PLOT IS FORGOTTEN. I NEED THE SMUT TO BE SO SCARILY DETAILED AND UNHINGED THAT IT SCARES THE AO3 WRITERSSS

ANYWAYS IT WONT LET ME GO ON ANONYMOUS SO I HAVE TO REVEAL MYSELF NOW 😭😭 IM 𐦖

hii angel !! it’s so nice to see you again !!

৻ꪆ cw : fem!reader , smut , 18+ , dom!cait , teasing , tension , fingering (reader receiving) , begging , slight mocking , slight praise

৻ꪆ wc : 2.6k ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀

caitlyn has been searching for you for weeks now — zaun’s most wanted criminal, a ghost slipping through cracks that no enforcer could reach. she’d tell herself her attraction towards you was just the amount of effort she puts into the job, nothing more, but as she see stands there watching you plop bottles, pills, and medical wrap into your bag, her judgement changes.

you needed medical supplies for your cousin back in the undercity. apparently, she had the bright idea to see how many mushrooms she could fit in her mouth at once. spoiler : it was one too many and now she’s laid up, hallucinating and nursing the huge scar on her stomach.

the sound of boots echoing down the hallway snaps you out of your thoughts and you freeze. you had everything you needed and all that was left was to escape, but as you turn to the window a familiar shadow creeps up behind you. it’s not until you realize you’ve been followed and watched this entire time.

the shadow calls out your full name with a thick british accent, echoing through the dark, dimly lit walls. “you’re under arrest for theft. do not make this any harder than it needs to be.” she spoke, her tone was confident and firm. even if you did explain what was happening, you know she wouldn’t excuse your actions.

but there’s no harm in trying.

“caitlyn, uh, kiramann, officer kiramann.” you stumble over your words, her bold demeanor quickly overpowering you. “i need these for a family member. she’s injured, badly.” you turn around to face her, taking a few steps closer, putting one hand out and the other behind your back, hiding the bag filled with supplies.

she pulls out her gun and your movements stop abruptly, not wanting to test how good her aim really is. “don’t move,” is all she says, angling the barrel right between your eyes.

“listen,” you say, hands still raised, voice carefully measured. “i’m not here to cause trouble, i just need this, and i swear i’ll be out of here.”

“you think that excuses breaking into the piltover infirmary?” she arches a brow, stepping closer. her presence is nearly suffocating, like she’s closing the air in on you on purpose. “you’re one of the most wanted criminals, and now i catch you stealing. what, do you expect me to just look the other way?”

“i’m asking you to have a little humanity.” you retort, trying to meet her strong gaze. “she’s my cousin, for fucks sake. what do you want me to do, let her die?”

her jaw tightens, and for her a moment, her eyes flicker to something softer, as if she’s actually understanding where you’re coming from. sadly, in the blink of an eye, her resolve returns, she tilts her chin up as if she’s looking down on you. “and what about all of the other things you’ve done? the heists, the break-ins, the stolen hex tech devices?”

you exhale sharply, shifting uncomfortably at her words. “those were . . . different. this isn’t about me, okay? it’s about her.”

“everything’s always different when you’re the one doing it, hm?” she spat, though there’s less bite in her words.

you notice the way her fingers hover over the trigger yet, she doesn’t pull. even if it’s small, it’s enough to reassure you she’s listening. “just let me go this time. i’ll disappear and won’t ever be a problem for piltover again.”

her lips press into a thin line and she studies your face, as if she’s trying to search for a ruse. for a moment, it feels like the entire world is on pause. caitlyn’s decision can decide the fate for you and your cousin.

“hand over the bag,” she says, her voice low but commanding. “now.”

you keep your position, the bag gripped firmly in one hand, resting behind your back. her eyes narrow at your stubbornness, she lunges forward, grabbing for the bag. instinct kicks in and you twist away, nearly losing your balance in the process. “don’t make me do this,” she growls, her voice closer, harsher now. “you can’t win.”

“i don’t need to win, i need you to fucking move.” you shoot back, your breath hitching as she grabs your arm, yanking you towards her. the bag drops on the floor with a thud, but the grip on your wrist doesn’t falter, in fact it tightens.

“let me go,” you hiss, but there’s no certainty to your voice, certainty that you want her to let go. her face is just inches away from yours, the two of you locking eyes.

“absolutely not. there’s no way i’m letting you go, not this time.” she murmurs, her tone is lower now and teasing in a way. the feeling of her breath on your cheek causes you to freeze, and the intensity of her gaze isn’t helping. her body leans towards you more, and you feel your face heat up. the two of you get so close, to the point your noses are brushing against each other, it feels like she’s going in for a kiss, but she reaches for the bag instead.

you react on instinct, shoving her away from it. the action makes her stumble slightly but she recovers rather quickly. her hand shoots out over your shoulder, reaching for the bag again. she fails and instead the scuffle sends the two of you to the floor. her weight presses down onto you and she takes both of your wrists in one hand, pinning it above your head. “you’re making this harder than it needs to be.” she breathes, her voice trembling between frustration and something else — something that makes your heart race.

a million thoughts race through your head, and all of them are about the bag. she could grab the bag any moment now but, she doesn’t. she keeps her eyes trained you, studying your every movements just as she was doing before.

“you didn’t have to get on top of me to make a point,” you snap, but your voice falters when you feel her free hand glide up your torso, your shirt slightly lifting with it. you shiver and squirm at the feeling but her grip on your wrists tightens, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

“didn’t know you were so sensitive to touch.” caitlyn teases, her fingers continue to trail up and down your stomach, never going any higher or lower.

heat floods your face, and you hate the way your body betrays you, your breath quickening under her. “get off me, kiramann,” you manage, but it sounds more like a plea than a demand.

“you don’t sound so convincing.” she murmurs, her voice dropping lower as she leans in closer, her breath kissing your ear. “but tell me, before i continue, do you want this as bad as i do?”

your breath catches, the question hanging heavy in your head. her grip on your wrist loosens, she’s giving you an out and all you have to do is take it. all you have to do is tell her no, and you’ll be on your way. except you don’t want to. you know how wrong this is, an enforcer and a criminal. in what world would this make sense? how would your family feel knowing you betrayed them all for a quick fuck? but the way her body presses against yours, the way her voice sounds like honey, it’s addicting.

“don’t . . . do this,” you mumble, as if you were trying to tell yourself that and not her.

“don’t do what?” she questions, “ask for permission?”

she tilts her head, her dark blue eyes boring into yours, and it’s like pulling the answer straight from your lips. every inch of her screams confidence, the kind that makes you want to crumble at her feet immediately.

you squeeze your eyes shut, biting your bottom lip to keep the words you desperately don’t want her to hear from spewing out. but it’s no use, your body betrays you first, your eyes flicker from her lips to her eyes, back to her lips again. your legs spread open just enough for her to for her to fit her leg in between. she notices and does just that, her thigh hitting right where you need her most. a whimper seeps out from your mouth, embarrassment written all over your face.

“you’re cute, but nothing happens until i get words.” her tone is soft, coaxing even, “i need to hear you say it.”

your lips part, hesitant, the words tangled in your throat. but when she leans in even closer, your lips mere centimeters from each other, you break.

“yes,” you whisper, so quiet it’s barely audible.

her lips curl into a smug smirk, her free hand traveling lower, gripping her hand firmly on your hips. “again,” she purrs, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

“yes,” you whine, your chest rising and falling with each passing breath.

“good girl,” she mumbled, the words alone sending heat throughout your body.

her movements are slow and deliberate as she presses her thigh into you. the sounds coming from your lips spark something within her — her smirk widens, and she leans in, her lips grazing your ear.

“you sound so sweet when you stop pretending to fight me,” she mewls and pulls back to watch how your face contorts as she grinds her thigh harder into you, bringing a hand to lightly tug on your nipple. her lustful gaze drinks in every flick of emotion on your face: need, lust, desire.

she pulls her hand away, and coos at your whimper. reassuring you that she’ll make you feel even better than before. her hand trails lower, brushing over the tip of your waistband of your pants, lingering long enough to make you squirm. “tell me,” she starts, “how bad do you want me to touch you?”

you swallow hard, your heart rate fastens every passing second. her fingers slide in but the barrier between your cotton underwear and her fingers keep her from going any further. she glides the tip of her fingers up and down your hardened clit, eliciting small moans from you.

“mmmhhh , just like that.” you moan out, arching your back towards her like she owns all of you.

her fingers skim over the extremely damp spot in your panties, a huge smile growing on her face. “is this all for me, love?” she asks, her voice dripping with smooth yet condescending.

you nod weakly, your voice failing you and it’s not enough for her. her fingers stop making those small, sweet circles. instead just hovering over where you need her. “words,” she demands, her voice firm yet intoxicatingly soft. “i want to hear you say it.”

your chest heaves, nails digging into her back as you try to gather your thoughts. “yes,” you breathe out, “it’s all for you, caitlyn.”

“that’s better,” she coos, rewarding you by moving your panties to the side, continuing to circle your clit. the feeling of her cold fingers against your warm flesh is enough to make your legs tremble, your breath hitching as a moan escapes your lips.

she reaches up and wraps her lips around your firm nipple, teeth lightly grazing the sensitive skin before going back to making out with it. “you’re so responsive,” she murmurs against your skin, “i could spend all night learning every little sound you make.”

her fingers working against your engorged clit was making you feel dizzy, but it wasn’t enough. you needed more from her, you needed to feel her, all of her. you buck your hips up at her fingers, she brushed it off at first, assuming it was just reactions from her work, but the more whines that came from your lips, the more she knew you needed more. the only problem is, is that you know she wouldn’t give it to you unless you ask.

“you need something?” caitlyn muses, giving you a fake puzzled expression.

you don’t respond with words but instead with noises, touches, and giving her that look. your hands roam from her neck down to her clothed chest, teasing her nipples. you latch your mouth onto her neck, planting open mouthed kisses that’ll leave a sweet dark purple mark.

“so eager, darling,” she pants, your touch is sickly addicting, finding herself craving more but she knows she can’t be that vulnerable in front of you, not yet. “use your words, and you’ll get what you want.” she says, quickly regaining her composure.

those words shoot straight to your core, causing you to clench around nothing. you part away from her neck and meet her seductive gaze.“caitlyn,” you whimper, your voice is trembly and shaky, “i need more, please.”

“yeah, is that what you need, love?” she mocks, using the same whiny pitched tone you have. she gives your clit a slight slap before moving her fingers lower. coating her finger in your slick, before finally plunging two digits deep into you. “just needed my fingers to turn off that pretty head of yours, hm?”

the stretch from her fingers is perfect, feeling your walls clench around her. “you feel incredible,” she breathes, completely entranced with the way your body succumbs to her. she keeps her rhythm steady and measured, making sure the pleasure isn’t overbearing.

she curls her fingers to brush against the spot that makes you see stars. your hands come up to pry at her back, a string of moans leaving your mouth with every thrust. “cait , oh fuck, you feel so good. please don’t stop, don’t fucking —“

your words are cut short with the feeling of cait pushing your legs to your chest, plunging deeper into you. your eyes roll to the back of your head and if feels as if the earth has stopped spinning completely. your hips move against her hand, chasing the friction you so desperately need.

each movement of fingers, each brush of her palm against your clit sends you spiraling further into bliss. the pleasure builds up like a storm waiting to be released. your body trembles beneath her, any form of sentences turn into mindless blabbering and moans.

caitlyn knows you’re close. how your sounds became higher in pitch, how your body became completely still as if it was ‘the calm before the storm’, and how you’ll respond to all over her questions with repeated, whiny yes’s.

“tell me, darling,“ she whispers, her lips brushing against your chest. “you gonna cum for me, make a complete mess all over my fingers?”

your response is nothing more than a choked moan. your head tipping back as her pace quickens, her fingers curling inside you and with one last thrust, you come undone all over her.

she doesn’t remove her fingers, only slowing her pace. testing the waters to see how much you can take, if you even can. eventually you let up, the overstimulation being too much to handle.

“c-cait please, i can’t take it,” you whimper, your face is completely flushed, barely able to hold eye contact with her.

she removes her fingers slowly, leaving you empty once more. you gasp out to catch your breath, still coming down from your high.

she comes up to meet your face and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, something strangely intimate for the two of you. she plants a kiss on your forehead, before going back down to adjust your underwear and pull up your pants.

she gets off from on top of you and stands up, leaving you sitting on your haunches. she walks up to you, and grabs your chin, angling your face up to her. “don’t let me hear about you doing something you’re not supposed to.” she speaks in a soft tone but you can tell she means every single of one her words, “i won’t be so nice next time, darling.”

[blurboki]

✩ ≫ GIVING STRAYKIDS HEAD WHILE HE’S LIVE

including. ot8 | pairing. skz x fem! reader | genre. smut - MINORS DNI | warnings. blowjob/handjob (m. rec), mentions of begging, mentions of a breeding kink, voyeurism, nicknames, mentions of using toys, humiliation, cum-eating, facial (f. rec), hair pulling, dubcon, felix cums inside, degradation, overstimulation, gagging, deep-throating, d/s dynamics

authors note. ty for requesting! i hope you don’t mind how wild i got with this.. seungmin’s made me feral (please tell me if i missed anything in the warnings!!)

CHAN :

would be so smiley n cute :((

until you kneel down and the realization hits

you can see his expressive eyes go “oh? oh.” in five second flat

the way you’re looking up at him? he’s twitching in his pants, trying his hardest to pay attention to chan’s room

definitely says something like: “alright! let’s get onto the next song, yeah?” while furiously turning up the volume to drown out his soft huffs of breath, plump lips parted to exhale deeply

the way he utterly shudders when you lick from his shaft all the way up to his leaking head has the dreamiest sigh falling from your mouth

the way you’re testing his patience makes him want to fuck you silly 🙈🙈

plays it off as if he was adjusting in his chair, meek smile giving away none of your naughtiness

once you start taking him into your mouth though, he reaches a hand to your hair, forcing you to down him

squeezes his eyes shut from the feeling of your throat swallowing him alongside the toe-curling whine you whimpered in response

most likely pretended to yawn to conceal his fucked-out face and the obscene sound of you gagging on him, babydoll eyes welling with tears

omg the way he looks down at you after that ?admiring your smudged mascara and the drool coating your lips and chin ?? pls eat me sir

“unfortunately, that’ll be the last song for this live, thank you Stay for joining me today..” he says, nonchalantly thumbing at your bottom lip to wipe the residue sitting there

legs spread and cock flushed against his abdomen, you come to realize rather quickly that you got yourself into something dangerous…

MINHO :

he’d prob be doing a live in the meeting room when you arrive, gazing at you pushing chairs out of the way to make him think you’re planning to sit down

till you settle between his legs and the realization dawns

has the most attractive, challenging stare ever watching you go to town

tbh minho is fucking terrifying with his self control in and outside of the bedroom

like he’d be able to answer questions and act completely normal despite his dick being halfway down your throat

pretends to laugh at a comment when instead he reached a hand under and toyed with your clit, gathering your wetness on two fingers to smear on the side of your lips

what he was laughing at? how pathetic you sounded mewling and dripping with need as if you weren’t the one who decided to give him head rn

would def end the live a tad bit early, finally succumbing to the handjob you provided where he came all over your face with the sluttiest moan

10/10 would bend you over and fuck you on the table after

10/10 would keep your legs out of business for a good five to six days (i stand by my claim)

CHANGBIN :

binnie is so fucking transparent idek if he could hide it

but like, he makes weird noises anyways so tbh stay probably wouldn’t bat an eye

sooo needy

gently grabs your chin while you kitty lick his mushroom tip and gives you most pleading stare

if he could’ve telepathically communicated, he would definitely been begging

funny considering how he basically bred you into the mattress the night before , right?

you resort to kissing his swollen cock, ensuring he’s watching when you collect his beading precum on a finger, bringing it up to your lips

to say he held back a moan doesn’t even cut it, poor baby might’ve bit his tongue off atp from your adorable eye contact and the mere image alone

gets frantic enough he blasts gods menu full volume and “suddenly” gets a text from Hyunjin saying he “needs to go”

a.k.a needs to blow

dude absolutely explodes

his moans are the cutest by far >>>

cums all over your face muttering soft “please please please” over and over while his fat cock basically ropes messy strings

he swore he’s never came harder in his life

andddd that’s how you got introduced to edging changbin!!!

jk, it just fueled your obsession with it further ;)

HYUNJIN :

prob the cutest of them all when you give him head under the table

he just feels so good and loved from your attention and the pleasure

has the dreamiest of smiles the entire time despite the music being obnoxiously loud to hide the sound

stays love this live bc of how cute he looked the entire time

lots conspired that he was drunk or smthn bc of how smiley he was, cheeks dusted pink

pretended to drop something so he could groan under the table, thigh twitching and abs tightening as he approached his orgasm

definitely grabs your head before he came, brows slightly knit and lips parted as he met your eyes

so fucking sweet after he cums, petting your head and running a light hand on your cheek where his cum smears

pops his thumb in your mouth, softly wiping your bottom lip of his essence

he’s literally delighted i cannot make this up

totally nonchalant apart from groaning under the table which he hid from view

expect either the softest or hardest sex afterwards

like you’re going to either be carried because your legs are out of commission or because he’s feeling romantic :((

HAN :

.. stay are prob getting an equally good treat too

and no they don’t know what was going on, they just know how from a certain timestamp in his most recent live his voice got a whole lot more attractive

expect a sudden raspy pitch, clicking his tongue casually as if his partner wasn’t spoiling him

on any other day he’d be stupidly whiny, crying from the pleasure you provided

today, however, he just let himself dissolve in the ecstasy, breathing in the fresh air on cloud 9

there were some speculations from stay watching, but it only got as far as that

scary enough, he doesn’t make a sound, casually carrying out conversation and answering questions like nothing

that is until you get impatient, pressing hot kisses all over and speeding up the movement of your hand as you fist him, pretty eyes fixating on his face

aha. you see him slightly wince, bidding farewell quickly with a few over-exaggerated poses and blown kisses

stifles a groan as he approached his high, tracing the corner of your lips as he grumbles an excessively attractive:

“now stick your tongue out, ‘don’t what you missing a drop.”

then proceeds to cum all over your lips n mouth, thumbing away some of his residue there

“you’re so messy, bunny, ‘have to teach you some manners, hm?”

FELIX :

he gets so cocky

and it’s one of the hottest things on the planet

watches you through half-lidded eyes as you unbutton his jeans, taking him into your mouth

i feel like no matter how hard you try to rile him up, it just makes him cockier and gives him a visible ego boost

like, not a ‘thinking with my dick only’ type of ego boost, more of a ‘why tf aren’t you reacting rn, please fuck me already at this point’ sort of ego boost

this man most likely turn off the music just to play it risky, forcing you down on his dick when you get too loud

reads comments as you literally deep throat him, eyes tearing up with how he keeps bumping the back of your throat

it’s insane

lifts a brow daringly as he reads a particular comment and you swear you would’ve moaned so fucking loud if it weren’t for him cruelly shoving fingers into your mouth as you fisted him with a hand

breathily sighs as you work faster, blinking a bit slower and hesitating with his answers—a telltale sign he’s close

definitely ends the live earlier, quickly taking off your bottoms to pull you onto his lap and paint your cunt white

voices the most guttural groan, adams apple bobbing as he fills you so full of him

he’s convinced there is absolutely nothing he loves more than stuffing your pussy, nothing

SEUNGMIN :

i will sit in the grave believing seungmin is one of the most god-teir men alive when it comes to head

another rbf (resting bitch face) king btw!!

meanest but also nicest ?? i can’t explain take this how you want

prob sings a song while you suck him off i cannot😭😭

you’d most likely be more affected than he is (or you just can’t tell), bc you’ll be a moaning mess from how nonchalantly he’s already shoved two fingers inside your cunt, guiding your head into a steady rhythm with a spare hand

smiles every time you mewl on his cock, hungrily watching your hips stutter while his fingers curl and rub your pussy sooo good

lmao i bet he hits a high note when you cream(and when he cums too), drowning out the desperate cries you sob from his lap

ends the live without even a trace of what happened, pulling your hair roughly so you meet his eyes, tears freely rolling down your cheeks

“you wanted this so don’t act like you didn’t. open.” he instructs, and you obediently open your mouth for him, showing him your tongue and lips painted with his cum

“swallow.”

his face when you swallow oml he loves seeing his baby behave

mumbles quiet “good girl”’s when you take his fingers coated in your juices into your mouth

honestly.. i could see him buzzing your puffy clit w a bullet vibrator afterwards while you sit on his dick, cooing as you fall apart on top of him, telling you it’s a “reward” while you’re overstimulated and sensitive beyond belief

JEONGIN :

kind of like hyunjin with his unpredictability, he’s either stone cold or an innocent baby

today, however, he was definitely needy, looking adorably confused when you sauntered through the doorway

gasps when you slip under the desk, eyes turning into round saucers as you carefully rid him of his pants then boxers

has to pause on multiple occasions to pull himself together, occasionally turning his head away from the camera to express the overwhelming feeling of your tongue

leaks a quiet, oh so quiet whine in the midst of laughing at a comment

poor bub gets an army of comments asking if he’s feeling sick from how flushed he is

cutie can’t admit how amazing you make him feel 🤭

ends the live abruptly, literally only thinking about cumming in your mouth

desperate AF when he starts mumbling, pulling you off of him to stick out your tongue as he frantically fists his dick, beads of pre-cum decorating the swollen tip

“oh god oh god oh god— cumming, ‘gonna cum, in your mouth? baby please please wanna cum in your mouth— yeah just like that, good girl- fuck-“ is just an example of his barely intelligible moaning

trust that he came hard, strings of apologies falling off his pink lips at the mess he made of your face

oml if you keep sucking him off afterwards?? overstimulated innie is the cutest thing ever

expect lots of begging and neediness 😍

blurboki, july 2023 ©

[twistedpink]

I’d love a part two of the One Night Stand Jade headcanons, perhaps with him becoming even more desperate and snapping, going crawling back to us in the same way he wanted us to come back to him. Bonus points if we actually reciprocate his romantic feelings deep down but thought they were unrequited and didn’t want to push their luck.

omg I love that I can get away with reader being mean in this one?? (OG post)

Jade becomes completely delusional after a couple weeks without your touch- he’s convinced it’s just not possible for you to make him feel so good only to abandon him :( For once he second guesses himself, maybe with his limited experience he miscalculated the science of humans.. If the first experiment fails the only remedy is another try, with new variables to tweak the result. He NEEDS you to finish this equation totally not just to get him off, so be prepared for the wooing of a lifetime!

It’s not like you “humped and dumped” the club, you’re much too considerate for that. Despite you rejecting any notion of tolerating his.. “Terrestrial interests” (lucky for you they extend much farther than mushrooms) he’s way too whipped to register the hungry look you get when his muscles flex under the weight of his heavy bag, or how your hands feel around his waist under the pretence of “looking for your phone”.. You must want him back, there is no other answer :) Yes he did hide it and it’s none of your business where it is

ONS!Jade that clings to anything you left behind in his room because you must’ve planted it for him! it could be as small as a single earring (maybe a tissue?) but it’s just how humans work with their collecting, and their frolicking, and their horrible teasing. Why would you do this to him? Did you make him so addicted for you entertainment? He can be so entertaining- if you enjoy your classmates avoiding you. You have no reason to enjoy anyone’s company BUT his, he’s the only one who wants you this badly! Come back!

ONS!Jade that keeps too many pictures of you to be normal. Loads of them have your mouth hanging open in a complaint- but from his perspective you’re flirting. You spoil him with your research on merman courting, human, he’ll indulge you :) Instead of being ignored he imagines you’re playing “hard to get”, it’s not like he could recognize whatever you’re really doing. Relationships back home are so much simpler,,

ONS!Jade can’t learn if his teacher avoids him :( it’s not very nice to neglect your best student, is it? He’s so desperate for you that he’ll compromise on almost anything now, all his cards are on the table. Bite kiss him, hit hold him, just promise you won’t leave! Again He doesn’t know what to do with himself.. he needs you to show him how to operate, share a little of your kindness with a hopeless eel and you’ll have his heart in return <3 (No matter how much you don’t want it)

[cevansbrat0007]

There is a trend on some social media where the wife/Gf gives her man a full plate and only her self a little saying that is all that was left. How would Andy and Ari act in that situation?

What's Eating You, Mr. Levinson?

Summary: You decide to test your man's patience with a prank you saw on TikTok. CLICK HERE to read Andrew Barber's reaction to the same prompt.

Warnings: Mature Themes, References to Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, TikTok Hijinks, Brief Mention of Calorie Counting, Bickering, Manhandling, Threats of Spanking/Punishment, Discussion of a Sex Tape, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Prompt brought to you courtesy of a Reader Request. This fic features Ari Levinson from my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

You weren’t quite sure what possessed you to do this. If anybody asked, you would claim temporary insanity. But right now you were about to get up to some mischief. 

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.” You mutter under your breath as you adjust the position of the camera you hid tucked away behind a plant. Pleased with the angle, you make a mental note to revisit the world of Harry Potter sooner rather than later. 

It was officially time for a reread. 

Tonight you were gonna play a little joke on your bounty hunter boyfriend. One that you’d come across the other day after accidentally straying from the wonderful world of BookTok. You just hoped he would find it as amusing as you did. In fact, you were certain that he would.

Eventually.   

Hands on your hips, you do an about-face and traipse back into the kitchen to get started on dinner. On tonight’s menu was a Tuscan pork roast, complete with red wine mushrooms and Haricots Verts – also known as French Green Beans. And for dessert, you’d decided to whip up your man’s favorite: key lime pie 

So, even if he got pissed at you later, you were confident you had something that would soothe his ruffled feathers. 

Fingers crossed.

Later that Evening…

The heady thrum of excitement hits you the moment you hear the open and shut of your front door. Having anticipated his arrival, you’d even thrown on a new dress and cued up a little music. While it wasn’t your usual style, you knew without a doubt that Ari would appreciate your efforts. 

“Bird?” 

The sound of your nickname has a smile forming on your lips before you even realize it. Smoothing your hands over your skirt, you make your way towards your mudroom, eager to greet your handsome bounty hunter. 

His eyes light up the moment he sees you. He stands there for a moment, drinking in the sight you clad in your new black dress and wedge heels. 

“Well, get a look at you.” He breathes, allowing his bag to drop at his feet next to his forgotten boots.

“You like?” Biting your lip, you give into temptation and do a little spin. 

Confidence blooms when you hear his appreciative whistle. But that’s nowhere near enough for your man. Because now that you’d gone and given him a show, he wanted more. 

“Oh baby, I love.” 

Pulling you into his arms, his mouth quickly descends upon your own. His tongue wastes no time finding yours, exploring every inch, every corner of your mouth. He lets you know without words that he’s so unbelievably happy to be home holding you like this. 

You cling to him, your hands roving beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt to run along the sculpted plane of his back. When he finally lets you up for air it’s so he can nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet, unique scent.    

“You’re beautiful.” He rasps, pecking your lips once more, his large hands come up to frame your face. “So beautiful. Can’t wait to take this dress off you later, see what you might be hiding underneath.”

“All in good time, Beast.” Your lashes flutter closed as you lean into his touch. “All in good time.”

“What if I don’t wanna wait?” His husky growl rumbles from somewhere deep in his chest as he fiddles the material of your skirt. 

“Well, you’re gonna.” Comes your cheeky response. “So go on and wash up for supper. We’re having something yummy.” You bat as his hands, intending to shoo him up the stairs.

The look that flashes across your man’s face makes it clear that he’d much rather have you for dinner instead. He boxes you in, slowly crowding you with his much larger frame as he backs you against a nearby wall. 

However, you refuse to let yourself be swayed.

“I mean it, mister.” You repeat, poking him in the chest. “Now, be a good boy and go wash up.” Ari’s eyes darken at your words. His head dips without warning as he bites your finger, sucking the digit into his mouth, making you gasp. 

“Alright, Duchess. Have it your way.” He growls once he finally deigns to release you. “You’d best be ready for me when I get back.” With that, he gives you his back as he strides off in the direction of the stairs.

“I ain’t scared of you.” You tell his retreating form, waiting until you hear his heavy footfalls sounding on the floor above you. Only then do you move, intending to finish setting up for dinner. 

‘Alright, sugar.’ You think, taking a second to fluff your curls. ‘Time to earn yourself an Oscar.’ 

Fifteen Minutes Later…

You’ve just finished hiding away what’s left of your meal when you hear Ari make his way into your tiny dining room.

“Have a seat, Beast!” You call out, hoping that the act you were about to put on was at least mildly convincing. “I–I’ll be right in.”

Blowing out a breath you snag your bounty hunter’s plate, along with a glass of wine, and head into the next room. Although he admittedly wasn’t much of a wine drinker before he met you, he tended to enjoy whatever selection you paired with your meal. 

Tonight you’d picked a lovely pinot noir.       

This time when you see him, you’re treated to the sight of a freshly showered Ari lazily sprawled in one of your slightly too small chairs. His still damp hair is pushed back off his face as he waits for you, patiently biding his time while he plans his next move.

Or so you assumed, anyway.

“Here you are.” You sing as you approach. “Tonight I bring you an expertly roasted Tuscan pork loin, complete with a garlic and mushroom risotto and french-style green beans.”

“Smells good, baby.” He absentmindedly scratches at his jaw while he surveys the mountain of food on his plate. 

“Hopefully it tastes good too.” You lean down to press a quick kiss against his temple. “I’ll, uh, be right back with mine.” The handsome brute smacks your ass when you turn to depart, making you yip.      

“Hurry back.” He grunts, letting out a chuckle when he sees you trying to rub the sting out of your butt.

Seconds later you return with your food before quietly taking a seat at the table, all the while refusing to make eye contact. Picking up your napkin, you make a show of draping it across your knee, and then…

You wait. 

It doesn’t take long for Ari to notice the differences between your respective plates, and it takes even less time for him to speak on it – much to your internal satisfaction.

“What the–?” Ari pushes his plate aside so that he can get a better look at your virtually empty one. “Where the hell’s the rest of your food, baby?” His deep voice comes out deceptively soft.  

“Huh?” You cast him a sheepish glance, feigning embarrassment. “Oh this? It’s fine.”

“That’s not what I asked, Bird.” The quiet steel in his voice is impossible to miss.

“I know it wasn’t. But this was all that was left, so…” You trail off, averting your gaze in favor of using your fork to push food around your plate. “It’s fine.”

“There’s that damn word again.” You hear him grumble under his breath, his nostrils flaring in frustration. “I got news for you, Bird. It ain’t fine.” He grouses, reaching for you even as you shift away.

“But it is.” You sing, daintily fanning yourself with a napkin. 

“No it isn’t.” He sings right back, clearly not understanding your game. Which was a good thing. It meant that you two could play a little longer.  

“Look, if this is about you feeling like you need to start counting calories again…” Ari goes to rest his elbows on the table, his own meal all but forgotten. “Then please believe me when I tell you that you look phenomenal. And not just tonight, baby. I mean every night.”

You feel your cheeks heat as your body responds to his praise. That familiar warmth soon spreads, pooling in your belly while you mentally preen at his words.  

“Thank you, Ari.” 

“Oh don’t thank me, sweet girl.” His already husky voice dips another octave. “I just want you to eat.” You stifle a small shiver when the roughened pads of his fingertips lightly graze over your hand. “Now, do me a kindness and take your pretty little self back into that kitchen and fix yourself a proper plate.” 

And there it was. He thought you were lying about there not being any leftovers. He was right, of course. Just not the way he thought he was. 

“I would if I could, sugar.” You stretch out your legs beneath the table as you prepare to really sell the narrative. “Honest. But there really isn’t anything left. I…accidentally only bought one pork loin instead of two. And then I misjudged the recipe for the risotto, but that was most likely on account of the fact that I was in my feelings about the state of Herb & Twine’s green beans selection. It wasn’t very good.”

Ari doesn’t tell you this, but he’s actually impressed by your ability to speak that fast without so much as taking a breath. Instead all you receive is a gruff “uh huh” for your trouble.  

“So,” You forge on, now fully committed to the bit. “I salvaged what I could out of the meal I planned and then gave most of it to you.”

“Why?” 

Boy, he did not look happy. Which was great news for you

“Because…” You draw out the word, wincing when you belatedly notice the sudden tick in his jaw. “I just…felt like you shouldn’t have to suffer for my mistakes.”

“Oh.” He hums, pursing his lips as he mulls over your story. “Well, I reckon we’ll just have to fix that.”

Unsure of what he means, you open your mouth to keep talking, only to let out a shriek when Ari suddenly reaches over to grip the back of your chair to drag you, and it, over closer to him.  

“Christ, Beast!” Your hand flies to your still-heaving chest as you will your heartbeat to calm down. 

But your man’s not done yet. 

You scarcely have time to catch your breath before you’re hauled into his lap. Immediately your arms go to weave themselves around his neck to keep you from falling. Not that Ari would’ve ever allowed that to happen.

Seemingly unbothered by your rather dramatic response, Ari seeks to balance you on top of his muscled thighs as he leans over again to retrieve your plate. You watch in confusion as he unceremoniously dumps the contents onto his own dish before setting yours aside once more. 

“Hate to break it to you, Duchess.” He seamlessly adjusts your positions so that he can grasp his knife and fork. “But I don’t need all this food. So it looks like we’ll just have to share.” 

Momentarily stunned by this turn of events you can only nod as he feeds you a tender bite of pork. It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but when you finally do, it’s to utter two simple words. 

“Ari, wait.” 

“‘Fraid I’m not really in the mood to wait.” Your impatient bounty hunter warns. But he does pause his efforts, his fork hovering mere centimeters from your mouth. “You’re nuts if you think I’m the kinda man who would even consider stuffing himself while his lady sits by and starves.”

“I know.” You assure him before rearranging your body so that you’re facing him, your thighs  now straddling his hips. “And I think that’s awfully sweet.”

“Great. So how about you –”

“But since this is a prank…” The grin you’re sporting threatens to split your face in two. “It looks like you get to keep your food.”

Ari blinks back at you, his mouth briefly opening and closing in a way that very much reminds you of a fish. You feel positively giddy as you press your hands on either side of his bearded face so you can plant a kiss on his full lips while he tries, and fails, to make sense of what you just said. 

“Run that by me one more time.” His quiet snarl is enough to have you soaking your panties.

“I saw this thing on TikTok, where these women all decided to prank their boyfriends by serving them this big ol’ plate of food, while pretending to give themselves only a little bit and claiming that was all that was leftover. They filmed their reactions and posted ‘em for everyone else to see.”

“What the hell is a fuckin’ TikTok?” 

“It’s this app where you…” You pause as you try to find the right words. “Where people can, um–”

“Post dumb shit?” He quirks a tawny brow as he tries to remain serious, even though you’re also pretty sure that you just saw his lips twitch. “Come up with new and inventive ways to torture the men that love them?”

“I mean, that’s not all it is.” You take a moment to whisper kisses along his chiseled jaw. “But I guess that’s a pretty accurate description.”

“Hmph.” Your grumpy bounty hunter continues to glower at you, even as his large, warm hands move to settle on your hips. “And am I right to assume you’re recording this?”

“Maybe…” You giggle, not bothering to hide just how funny you found this all to be. “Oh – but I was never gonna post it. Promise.” 

You hold up your pinky, trying your hardest to look solemn. But the look Ari gives you lets you know that he’s done falling for your act. 

“I’m warning you, Duchess.” He grunts, lightly bouncing you on his lap. “I swear to God, if I catch myself on that fuckin’ tock clock…thing…you have my word that I’m gonna redden that ass.”

“I already told you I wasn’t gonna.” You reassure him once more, resting your forehead against his. “By the way, thanks for bein’ such a good sport about the whole thing.”

“No problem.” He flashes you a feral grin, revealing his pearly white teeth. It shoots straight to your core. “But the way I see it, you kinda owe me one. Don’t you?” He leans in close as his hands begin gently kneading your curves. 

“Um…I don’t think–” You let out a soft whimper when he drags his nose along the delicate column of your throat.

“Oh, but I do.” He nips at your jaw. 

“I suppose that’s fair.” 

“Trust me, it is.” His sensual growl has you practically shivering with need. “Which is why you’re gonna show me where you hid that camera.” His lust-filled gaze drops to your cleavage as he openly begins undressing you with his eyes.

“Now hold on a minute, Beast –” You stammer once realization dawns. 

“Aw, don’t fret.” Ari’s rueful chuckle lets you know that you will never win this battle. “You’ll have your turn to direct our little movie.” Ari suddenly stands without warning so that he can gently deposit you back in your own chair. “Especially now that I know how much you love performing for the camera.

Oh, the man had you there. Sometimes your Beast was a bit too cunning for your liking. 

“I don’t think–” You try again, now feeling shy. “What we do in the dark has no business being on film!”

“Hm, guess we’ll just have to keep the lights on. But for now, let’s get you fed.” He drops a kiss on your head before picking up your empty dish and sauntering off towards the kitchen. “We’ll talk lighting and camera angles once you’re finished.” 

Good Lord on high. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“Here we are.” Ari continues upon his return a few minutes later. He sets your down in front of you before taking your napkin and redraping it across your lap. “But I’d eat fast if I were you.”

“Um…why?” You ask, eyeing him warily. 

“Because.” He winks at you before taking a seat and enthusiastically spearing a piece of meat onto his fork. “Tonight’s dress rehearsal starts in thirty minutes.”

END

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[slow-motionlovepotion]

𝒌𝒆𝒑𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:  boston era! joel miller x f!reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.6k

𝒂/𝒏: i woke up at 5am this morning and smashed this out rather than working on any of my other numerous wips ~ no beta (or edit), we die like men - minors do not interact.

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ ~ sex work, mutual masturbation, unprotected sex (wrap it kids), slightly coercive behaviour, dirty talk (joel miller has a filthy mouth), creampie, mentions of drug dealing & murder (joel is a drug dealing murderer but that's canon so it shouldn't come as a surprise to anyone), possessive!joel, kinda mean joel, joel is a tease, degrading language (whore, multiple times), idk i think that's everything

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: pleasure has a price and Joel is willing to pay whatever it takes to have you

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ⇢

Joel often heard talk from the other smugglers, of pretty girls that’d sink to their knees for a few ration cards or a couple of pills. He pretends not to, but he listens, acting like he couldn’t care less about their sordid activities. 

“What about you Miller? You don’t fancy a visit to one of our girls?” Some ratty 20-something asks one day. Joel just rolled his eyes.

“You really think I’d pay for some whore you’ve all had your dicks in?” His disgust is false, an act. In truth, he’s no better than them, couldn’t care less how many guys a woman has fucked before him. 

Besides he’s got Tess. 

Except now he doesn’t. Doesn’t have a warm body to sink into, to fuck his stress out on. She’d cut him off, rightfully so, when she implied she wanted more and he continued to offer her exactly the same. 

So when a comment is made in passing one night: “You hear Danny’s girls got into the whoring business?” His ears perk up. 

He knows Danny, knew Danny, before Danny was resting not entirely in peace. If you were to ever leave the QZ and see a guy who looks an awful lot like Danny but, say, had mushrooms for eyes, no you didn’t. 

Tess had been the one to deliver the bad news to you while Joel had stood uncomfortably in the hallway, listening to your broken sobs through the door. 

Maybe that’s why Joel finds himself knocking at your door, long after curfew, just returned from a run where he’d listened to those arseholes describe in great detail how they’d be paying you a visit, all while Joel kept his back to them, hiding the hardness in his jeans as he’d pictured what he’d do to you himself. He really was no better than them. 

“Joel Miller. To what do I owe this pleasure?” You smile but it’s tight and it doesn’t reach your eyes 

“Can I come in?” He asks like this is normal behaviour but that’s the Joel you know, always direct and to the point no matter how rude it comes across. Gritting your teeth you step back, allowing him into your apartment. 

“Nice place” he surveys your home, bathed in a soft pinkish light from the lamp next to your bed, a book discarded on the messy sheets. 

“What do you want Joel?” You try phrasing your question differently to get him to get to the point. You’re tired, it’s been a long day and Joel is not easy company. 

“I heard you’ve become a bit of an entrepreneur, started your own business” He raises a questioning eyebrow at you and you want to slink back to the shadows at his confrontation but you don’t, you stand firm, refusing to buckle under his stare. 

You’d expected word to travel faster, you’d started working about a month after Danny’s untimely demise, all of a sudden fending for yourself, no longer benefiting from the additional earnings afforded the smugglers. You’d tried to keep away from that business, only taking clients that you knew had no connection with the likes of Danny’s friends and Joel Miller but maybe you hadn’t been as careful as you’d thought. 

“Do you have a problem with that?” You challenge. It’s awfully rich of him, coming into your home and giving you his opinion on your job, like his line of work is any better. He’s nothing but a glorified drug dealer and a murderer. 

“Of course not. Why’d you think I’m here?" His tone is serious, this is not a social call, it’s business, your business. 

“I thought you were with Tess?” You ask, more so to give yourself time to actually take in what he’s saying, not because you have any issues providing your services to men of an entangled nature. 

“I thought you weren’t supposed to ask questions” he shoots back

“I don’t, usually. Just looking out for myself, last thing I want is Tess comin’ around here thinking I fucked her man” 

Joel sighs, he’s not her man. Though he’s not surprised you would think that, people thought that before they started fucking and apparently still think that even after they’ve stopped. 

“You ain’t gotta worry about that darlin’” 

“Payment upfront” you concede and Joel nods, pulling a stack of ration cards out of his pocket. 

“What’ll this get me?” He places his payment on your kitchen table and you eye the stack, easily enough ration cards to keep you living comfortably for months. 

“Whatever you want” you say, you’ve done this for much less. But had you not been enticed by the thick wad of cards, you might’ve reconsidered that offer considering everything you know about Joel.

He thinks it over, dropping heavily into the corner of your sofa, one foot on the floor, the other muddying the already stained fabric. 

“C'mere” he commands and when you’re close enough he points to the other end of the sofa “Facin’ me” 

You sit, bringing your knees up to your chest, your t-shirt does nothing to cover your modesty but your shins are blocking the view Joel really wants. 

“Spread those legs darlin’, show me what I’m payin for” he tilts his head expectantly. 

You spread your knees, keeping one leg bent and dropping the other to the floor, your new position almost a mirror of Joel’s. You know he wants more, reaching down you pull the scrap of lace to the side, exposing yourself to his gaze. 

He lets out a groan at the sight of you, cunt glistening despite the fact he’s not even touched you yet. 

“Pretty girl” he breathes. His eyes flick to his offering on the table “Whatever I want?” He confirms and you nod “Ah-ah, words darlin’. I wanna hear you” 

“Yes Joel, whatever you want” his hand flexes on his thigh and you can see the growing hardness in his jeans. 

“Take it off” his command gives you some idea of how this is going to go, he’s going to tell you what to do, and you’re going to do it. 

Your hands find the waistband of your underwear and you lift your hips, slipping them down your legs and when you reach your ankles Joel holds his hand out, smirking when you drop the fabric into his waiting hand. 

“And the rest darlin’” You pull your t-shirt over your head, revealing yourself to be bare underneath. The t-shirt drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you lean back, returning to your position, legs spread and on show for him.

Your fingers automatically slide between your legs, spreading your wetness up to your clit, circling the bundle gently. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off you, hands quickly working at his belt and jeans, freeing his length with a relieved sigh. 

Thick fingers wrap around his even thicker cock and it’s like your own personal fantasy, Joel Miller thrusting into his fist, just for you.

You increase the pressure on your clit but keep your pace slow, teasing. It’s a dangerous game to play, acting without instruction but while Joel is watching you with heavy eyes and he’s not telling you to stop, you continue, dipping your fingers into your cunt, bringing them up to show him the wetness coating your fingers. 

He doesn’t stop you when you return your fingers to your clit, doesn’t stop you when you pick up the pace or when your breathing starts getting harder. 

In fact he puts on his own show, spitting into his palm and picking up his own pace, twisting his hand over the head, his free hand tracing abstract patterns over his thigh. 

You could get off like this, you’re going to get off like this, legs tensing and core tightening. A gasp gets caught in your throat as your orgasm builds, almost there, and then it’s gone. 

A growl rumbles in Joel’s chest when his hand grabs your ankle and you’re pulled flat on your back. He’s hovering over you, hand pinning both of yours above your head, your thighs hooked over his. 

“Not gonna come on your fingers” he pants by way of explanation, pushing the tip of his cock between your soaked folds, catching your clit and nudging at the entrance to your cunt. “Gonna come on my cock” 

Joel buries himself to the hilt inside you with a sharp thrust, the stretch is so satisfying it sends a shudder up your spine that has your back arching and your hips tilting down into his, desperate to feel the ache that comes with being too full.

“Look at that, got my entire cock buried in you and you still want more” Joel taunts you, his arm slipping under the arch in your back as he withdraws and pushes back in again. 

“Joel” you gasp as he fucks into you, pulling you down to meet his thrusts. His pace is unrelenting, thick cock dragging against your walls, the slight curve catching just right on that spot inside you that makes your thighs shake and your head go foggy. 

“Say it again darlin’” it comes out as a snarl but there’s a hint of a plea in there. 

“Fuck Joel, oh yes just like that” you push yourself further into him, his arm tightening to keep you there. 

Your shoulders burn and your fingers are going numb with the restricting grip of Joel’s hand around your wrists. It’s intimate, too intimate, Joel’s breath hot on your face and his entire body flush against yours. Joel must think so too because he pulls out, hand around your waist flipping you over so your face is pushed into the cushions and your hips are raised. Before you can even catch your breath he’s forcing himself back into you.

“Fuck, so tight. Especially for a whore” you don’t expect your cunt to clench at that and Joel definitely doesn’t expect it either. He lets out a shocked laugh “You like that? Being called a whore?” He pulls out and slides back in, the action and his question pulling a sinful moan from you. 

His pace from this angle isn’t so unrelenting but it’s harder and deeper, his hips and thighs flush against yours as he bottoms out, pulling out so you can just feel him resting at your entrance, so you feel the stretch of every thrust, over and over and over again. 

“Such a whore, letting anyone fuck this cunt for a couple ration cards” his hand grabs your hair, tugging so your back is pressed to his chest and his arm wraps around your waist, thumb flicking over your sensitive nipple. The hand in your hair pulls, turning you to face towards the table and his payment “My whore now. Those cards should be plenty enough that you don’t need to do this with anyone else” 

Like this, his cock nudges that spot inside you again and this time you cry out, ragged moans falling from your lips with every snap of his hips. And his words, god his words, wash over you like a too hot shower burning your skin. 

“All mine, just for me. Not gonna let anyone else touch you” You don’t realise that’s a question until you feel a sharp smack to your rear. “Tell me you’re not gonna let anyone else touch you”

“Not gonna” you shake your head as you speak “only you” 

“Tha’s my girl” he murmurs and oh you like that, the idea of being Joel’s girl, being the one he spends his nights buried inside. 

“Yes, your girl, just for you” His mouth is on your neck and he bites down as you speak, sucking bruises onto your skin. 

If it was anyone else you’d tell them to stop, no one wants a whore marked by another man but he owns you now so you let him. Hand reaching up to grab his hair, keeping his mouth on you, giving him permission. 

His free hand works its way between your legs, flicking your clit with practised fingers and you’re suddenly right on the edge, release within reach, you just need a little bit more. As if Joel can sense exactly what you need his mouth breaks from your neck and his lips find your ear 

“Is my whore gonna come for me?” He teases, pulling a frantic litany of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ from you. “C’mon then” 

The waves that had been steadily building crash over you, shaking violently as your cunt tightens and flutters around his cock, pulling him in deeper. Light bursts behind your eyes and your hands claw at his arm keeping you upright, nails biting into his skin. You don’t hear the scream you let out but you feel it burning in your chest and your throat. Your ears are ringing, muffling the sound of Joel talking you through it. 

When you finally return to yourself Joel is still thrusting into you, your head resting heavily on his shoulder behind you.

“Gonna come in this cunt, fill you up” that snaps you back to reality 

“No. Joel you can’t- can’t do that” you panic slightly, wanting to push him away but he’s too strong, grip too tight.

And really, if you’re being entirely honest, you don’t actually want to push him away, you want to take what he gives you but it’s unrealistic and you can’t let yourself want that. 

“Yeah I can, you’re mine now. Or have you forgotten already?” You shake your head, no you haven’t forgotten but no he still can’t come inside you “don’t worry’ll get you the mornin’ after pill” 

His words are slurred and his thrusts are losing rhythm and you realise he’s holding back, waiting for you to say yes. His arm around you squeezes in warning and you can feel him tense behind you. This is it, the ultimate trust exercise and it’s now or never. Your hand entangles with his around your waist and you nod. 

“Fuck, yeah. Want it, wanna feel you fill me” His fingers tighten under yours and he picks up speed, fucking into you sloppily and panting against your temple. 

With a final thrust and a groan you can feel in your own chest Joel spills into you, holding himself so deep it’s painful, ‘Property of Joel Miller’ branded on your walls with every drop of his release. 

“So good, so fuckin’ good f’me” he breathes hot into your ear, hips twitching as he comes down from his high. He doesn’t let you go straight away, naked frame held tight against his fully clothed one. You untangle your hand from his when your legs start to ache, knees protesting as they dig into the well worn sofa, slumping forward when Joel finally releases you. 

Your body is exhausted, eyes heavy and stinging with the effort of keeping them open. Joel’s up and redressed before you even think about reaching for your t-shirt, uncaring as you lay naked on your sofa, marked body on display for him. 

Joel’s calloused fingers trace the blossoming bruises that litter your neck and shoulders, his touch surprisingly tender. His hands find yours and help you up so you’re sitting, holding your t-shirt out to slip into, the marks on your neck are visible above the neckline of your shirt and a dark sense of pride washes over him.

“I meant what I said, enough cards there to keep you comfortable for a while, don’t wanna hear you’ve been whoring yourself out again” His confession takes you by surprise, you honestly hadn’t thought he meant it, men say all sorts of things in the throes of passion, you’d know.

The realisation sends a shiver down your spine, you’re his girl now and you don't mind that one bit, the kept woman of Joel Miller.

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[fatkish]

Oh I have an Idea!

Mashle character x ghost fem reader

Romantic for the male character (like they got crush on her) except someone older like the Professor like mr. Walhberg, miss melidou and the other people.

She is a ghost, her dead is because she died by getting burn like a witch, she is magicless when she still alive thats why many people who have magic try to kill her. Thats what the rules say doesn't it?.

When she turned into a ghost and roamed around in the easton school for years , one day she find a magicless student and that is no other than mash burndead. She want to protect him because she didnt want him to end up like her. As a ghost she can't be killed, so she try to protect mash from who try to killed him.

She sometimes show herself to mash and his friend and when, the scene the divine visionaries appear she trying to defend him and protect him.

Thats all 😁

Mash Burnedead x Ghost Reader

Long ago before Easton Magic Academy was built, there was a small village that stood where the school now stands. In this village, there was a very handsome mage who was as powerful as he was kind. Unlike some villages, this village was a purist village. The only people who lived here were those capable of using magic. Anyone who couldn’t use magic was driven out or killed. The young handsome mage was the son of the village’s leader. One day, he fell in love with a girl. This girl was kind and sweet but she had a secret, she was incapable of using magic. The young mage tried his best to hide her inability, he truly loved her, but a pair of jealous eyes always followed them.

Another young woman who had a crush on the young mage had discovered the girl’s inability to use magic. Knowing that the young mage would likely follow the girl if she was driven from the village, the young woman lied to the man’s father and said that the magic-less girl had bought love potions and had been using them on his son. The young woman hid the empty vials in the girl’s bag so when she was questioned by the authorities, they’d search her bag and find them. Word quickly spread around the village and the girl was locked up and set to be burned at the steak for her crimes. Despite his pleas, no one listened to the young mage for everyone believed he was under the influence of a love potion.

The next morning, the girl was dragged out of her cell and tied to a cross in the middle of the village. As they piled wood at the base of her feet, many men held the young mage back as he cried and struggled to free himself. As they lit the fire, the young mage watch slowly as the love of his life was slowly engulfed in flames. Hearing her screams, he managed to break free from the men holding him only to be put to sleep by a sleep spell cast on him to prevent him from interfering with the trial. When the young mage awoke later, he learned of his love’s death and cursed the village for their deeds before taking his own life. The young mage’s curse allowed for his lover’s soul to haunt those who did her wrong by tying her soul to the earth.

Years past and eventually the village was abandoned and later the school was built on top of where the village once lied. The girl’s soul wandered the school grounds for years, steadily and slowly soaking up magical energy. Despite not being able to use magic when she was alive, the curse was powered by the grudges of those who bear it as well as who cast it. The curse gave her the ability to use magic to enact her revenge. For years she watched as magic users preyed upon each other and established a social hierarchy based on how strong one’s magic was. She was disgusted by this, the mistreatment of others and the bullying.

One day, a young man with a mushroom like haircut entered the school grounds. Having nothing to really do, the girl always watched the entrance ceremony to see who would enter the school. The young man caught her eye as instead of doing anything magic related in preparation for the tests, he was lifting weights and working out. What a strange young man, as she continued to observe him, she noticed he had never used magic in any of the trials. It wasn’t very hard for the girl to realize that the young man couldn’t use magic. Worried for the young man who she learned was named Mash Burnedead, she began to follow him around. She kept an eye on him at all times and swore that she would protect him. She watched as another young man took advantage of Mash’s social ineptitude and made Mash do all kinds of menial tasks.

Her rage burned as she watched. But eventually the truth was revealed when Mash found his roommate, Finn Ames, being bullied into submission by the young man. After smashing the boy’s face into the ground and burying the vice principal, Mash was summoned by the headmaster. The girl watched unaware that the headmaster knew of her presence on the school’s grounds. That night, she appeared before a supposedly sleeping Mash and gently caressed his head. Promising to protect him before she disappeared. From that day on, Mash would get the feeling on occasion that he was being watched, catching glimpses of a girl that would seemingly appear out of thin air and then vanish.

One night, he pretended to sleep, you walked up to him and appeared as you gently stroked his head only for his eyes to open, spooking you. You both stared at each other for a moment before Mash spoke up. “Who are you?” He asked. You told him you don’t really remember your name since it’s been so long. You told him about what you are and what happened to you, you told him all that you remembered of your past life. You told him that you know he can’t use magic and that you will protect him. He tried to lie and say that he can use magic but you just giggled at his obvious lie. After that night, you would follow Mash around and he was fine with it.

Eventually he would go on to defeat the Magia Lupis which lead to others finding out he couldn’t use magic. From there he was brought before the magic bureau. When Orter tried to attack Mash with his sand, a vortex of black flames surrounded Mash, protecting him from Orter’s attack. It was then that you showed yourself to the Divine Visionaries and threatened to kill anyone who dared to hurt Mash. Over the years, you had amassed quite a large amount of magical energy which allowed you to cast powerful spells. Each of the Divine Visionaries fell to their knees in agony as you forced them to feel like they were being burnt alive. When Mash asked you kindly to stop and not kill them, you begrudgingly relented and released them from your spell.

From then on, you slowly watched as Mash grew and made friends, changing the minds of people and eventually becoming accepted by everyone. Seeing Mash become accepted by everyone, you felt your anger and resentment towards the past fade. You felt the curse that kept you bound to the earth weaken. One night, you appeared before Mash for the last time. “Mash, Thank you. For so long now, I’ve been tied to the world of the living, unable to move on into the afterlife due to my hatred and anger towards what happened to me. But seeing you become accepted by everyone, it’s finally given me peace. I can finally rest and move on, so thank you” you smiled as you spoke to Mash. Slowly, your apparition dissolved into tiny light particles as the curse broke, freeing you.

The next day, Mash and his friends went into the forest and began digging in an area until they uncovered what appeared to be human bones that had been burnt. Together, Mash and his friends made a proper grave for you. Mash even went as far as to carve a gravestone for you with your name, date of birth and death, as well as a bit of information about you. Wahlberg agreed to make your gravestone a special place on the campus that would be protected so that no one would desecrate it. Every now and then, Mash would leave a cream puff for you as a gift whenever he visited.

[angelsinthejungle]

deep throat baby such sweet sounds

cw: restraining, first time, soft domme, deep throat, slight humiliation, reader performing. short read. this is a bit diff than usual, idk what came over me heh 😅

More smut

Chains clink against the hook suspended above. He’s been naked for a half hour now. Standing with his hands bound high, his back stretching feline like. His legs are splayed and tied to a bar. He’s unable to move anywhere only rotate. I spoon up against his back. My soft breasts and leather strapped lingerie presses against his warm skin.  

Slowly, I reach around him trailing my fingernails down his chest, up his shoulders, under his arms, tickling his tummy. I pinch hard on his nipples. He squirms around “mmmmpphmmm-ing” making sweet pathetic noises as I tease him. His mushroom head swollen and leaky with precum, I massage it. It’s so slippery and juicing, making my hand glide quickly.

“You like that baby hmmm?” My arms lock onto him as I jerk him off from behind. “Ahhh, fuck, yes.” He groans. His hips jut forward but my grasp is too tight holding him in place.

I lick around his tip and slide him in my mouth. I tug on his balls. “Mmm my baby taste so good. mmm.” My eyes water up as I start to push him in. I don’t want him knowing this is my first time deep throating. So I hide it best I can. 

His hips eager, lean in trying to push forward deeper into my throat, I let him. My cheeks flush a burning red complimenting my swollen lips around his girth. I gag. I start coughing and crying. The salt of my tears sting my cheeks. 

He has the nerve to look me in the eyes, “baby girl can’t handle it huh?” He smirks out.

His head falls back and I quickly release, pulling him out of me. Catching my breath. We don’t break eye contact as I stand up and slap his face. I leave the room. I leave him alone and confused. For minutes that turn into 30. Letting him wonder. What is she doing? What is she feeling? Is she really mad? Would she ever leave me like this?

After awhile I come back and shut the glass door. He sees a reflection of my ass before my hands swiftly tie a mask around his eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Open your mouth” I demand. He turns away mumbling out small complaints. Gently I guide his face back to me and pucker his lovely lips introducing a ball gag between them. He feels a wrapping and tie pulled taut around his waist. He hears a small jingling and feels a pleasant brush through his hair. He’s trying to speak to me but I don’t really care.

I untie his eyes. His reflection makes him wince— in kitty ears, a pink ball gag, and a cute ribbon tied around his waist. It makes him muzzle out in embarrassment. I lift his chin “got something to say?”

On my knees I grab his thighs, push and pull him in and out my mouth, at my speed.

He hears me gagging and feels the wet slaps of my tears every time my face smacks into his groin. He fixates on my doe eyed face in distress and determination. His body shaking in pleasure. 

I grip his ass and push him into my face until I’m smushed against his pelvis. I’m gagging and drooling uncontrollably. Spit bursts out the sides of my mouth. Upon pulling away to catch a breath, strands pool together keeping us connected.

I knead his dick with the back of my throat, clenching my muscles tight massaging his tip making him “awh” out endlessly. 

I start bobbing myself so hard into him I’m pushing his hips backward; sopping up his swoll dick in my mouth.

“Ah-awh” he muzzles out as he cums. I grab his ass and push him deep in my throat, taking him all in, struggling but swallowing him all. He clenches up, his hips bucking forward into my face as he cums. He is moaning and whimpering against his ball gag, it’s making his kitty ears jingle. “Ahh my baby makes such sweet sounds.”

💋 angelsinthejungle

[gracegootee]

As Long as We’re Together

- - - - - - - -

It’s been a month since the battle with Bowser and Mario noticed his little brother Luigi wasn’t acting like his usual self.

A week after the battle, Princess Peach offered the brothers to move into the Mushroom Kingdom. They stayed at her castle until their home was built and they were moved in but the nights at the castle were somewhat say not so peaceful most nights.

Mario would wake up in the middle of the night to hear Luigi talking to himself over the balcony, fidgeting with his hands and whenever Mario asked if he was alright, his brother would would answer back with “I’m fine” or “yes.” “No.” and trying to fake a smile, hiding his wrists with his sleeves.

Even while doing their plumbing work Luigi was quiet. Sure he would make a joke here and there but he barely spoke a word except for when they told each other good night.

It’s been a month of this now. Mario thought to himself, sitting at the kitchen table in their new mushroom home, with his coffee getting cold and Luigi, who was still asleep at 8 in the morning. Lu was up until 2, having trouble falling asleep. It was time Mario had a talk with his brother on what was troubling him.

Later that day after work, Mario prepared some chamomile tea for his brother and walked up to him, who was sitting at the table reading the Mushroom Kingdom newspaper quietly.

“Hey, Lu.” said Mario, giving him his tea. “I’ve noticed you’ve been quiet lately and to me I think something is bothering you.”

Lu stopped sipping his tea and cleared his throat. “I-I’m fine, Mario. Really.” He started fidgeting with his hands again. Mario placed his hand on his shaky brother’s hands.

“Hey,” the oldest said with a calm tone. “You don’t have to be afraid to tell me what’s going on…alright.”

Lu smiled and nodded. He was quiet for a few minutes, looked down, and let out a sigh. “I…I…”

He couldn’t finish the words without his voice starting to break and yelled. “I-I’m scared!”

Mario gave his little brother a worried look. “Scared of what, Lu.”

“My nightmares…”

Mario thought for a moment and moved his chair next to his brother. “You want to talk about it?”

Luigi nodded. “There are nights where either I can’t sleep or because I have a nightmare about…” the tears were starting to show in his glossy eyes. He tried to calm himself down before continuing.

“…the Dark Lands” Luigi continued. “I would be chased down by Bowser’s henchmen and before I could make it to the warp pipe, Bowser would be standing right there and throw me across the forest, slam me into trees, or striking me with his claws, and before I wake up screaming my nightmares always end with either Bowser hurting you in front of me while I’m pinned down on the hot ground or killing m-“ he couldn’t finish the last word as he broke down crying at the table, burying his face in his arms.

He muffled under his shaking breath with his face still buried and he looked away from his brother with his head now resting on his arms.

“Back when I first met Bowser he…he tortured me, pulled my stache, threw me, leaving me with a bruise on my side and shoulders and before that I was pulled tight on the wrists by the shy guys when I was captured to be brought to Bowser.”

Mario’s eyes widened when Luigi showed his wrists, burned-like with rope marks and Mario noticed the bruise on Luigi’s shoulder.

Mario was quiet for a moment. “Why didn’t you tell me this before, Lu?”

Luigi looked at Mario, tears still running down his face. “I was afraid and didn’t want to worry you…I-I’m sorry Mario! I’m sorry! I’m-“ he started to breathe heavily, trying to stop himself from crying.

Mario held Luigi’s hands. “Luigi, listen to me.” Luigi, trying to calm himself down, listened to his brothers comforting voice. “You don’t ever have to be afraid to tell me anything, okay. We’re brothers and as long as we’re together everything is going to be okay…okay?”

Luigi smiled, sniffled and gave Mario the biggest hug, burying his face in his brothers shoulders as he let Mario hug him back.

Lu cried more and finally calmed himself down as Mario told him.

“I love you, little brother.”

Luigi sniffled and said back “I love you too, grande fratello.” After a month of these nightmares, Luigi knew the nightmares would go away, now that he was open with his brother and told himself everything’s gonna be okay.

He closed his eyes and felt himself falling asleep on his brothers shoulders. Mario guided Luigi to his bed, had him cover up with his green plaid comforter, and turned on his nightlight

“Night-night, Mario.” Luigi said sleepily, then sound asleep, snoring.

Mario smiled and gave his little brother a kiss on the head.

“Goodnight fratellino.”

Mario crawled into his bed and turned off his light. Falling asleep as he knew that their new life and everything was going to be okay.

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

First time posting an angsty/heartwarming story on here!!❤️💚

I had to use Google translate for the Italian words and I’m not sure if Google translate is 100% right.😂

[osamucide]

(joe gets kicked out of school for using) drugs with friends (but says this isn't a problem)

last friday, i took acid and mushrooms

i did not transcend

i felt like a walking piece of shit

in a stupid looking jacket

NSFW CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

wc: 2.4k

cw: gn!reader - no explicit anatomy mentioned, post-dark era, pre-entrance exam, port mafia!reader, past relationships/implied relationships, dazai-typical suicide mentions, manwhore dazai, explicit sexual content, drugs, references to drugs, drug use, talking and doing drugs, dazai is on drugs, dazai has tried every drug under the sun, just so many fucking drugs. don't do drugs please!

reid: installment 2/? of me using car seat headrest songs alongside dazai fic. ooc dazai probably but i like breaking him not sorry. this is not intended to romanticize substance abuse. addict dazai is a concept very close to my heart this is wholeheartedly me venting also all my fanfic is just so self indulgent. please for the love of god do not do drugs just send them to me thanks. can be read as a stand-alone or a part two to my previous fic drunk drivers/killer whales. you can find me on ao3 @angelzai. enjoy

. . . .ᐟ

“What have you been doing? Since you…”

Left. You falter but Osamu Dazai knows that’s what you mean to say. Since you left. That wouldn't have taken a fucking genius, though.

Well, he thinks, he could be totally honest right now. There's no one to hide from anymore, just himself. The fact that you're sitting with him has some old walls going up - the rather generic ones that go up with everyone - and he's hoping you won't take it personally if he does decide to lie. It would just be easy to. Familiar to.

He turns your voice over in his mind, imagines himself weighing it in his palms, and while the question hangs in the air suddenly he's in bed again with the wench of the week about a month or four back - one he bummed a cigarette off at some club during a routine bender and struck up a conversation with about the conceptualization of incomprehensible units of measurement, like lightyears. Dazai remembers that she took him home and let him snort ecstasy off the small of her back before he made out with her for what felt like six hours. She'd obviously wanted to fuck but he was still thinking, albeit warmly now, about lightyears and space and how awesome it would be to scale the side of a faraway terrestrial planet like an ibex - those cool mountain goats - and look off into a volume of nothing to observe the dilation of time with his tiny, filthy Earth eyes. Yeah, he wasn't getting any of that acute empathy he seemed to gain for other human beings when he was on E, so he asked for more. Her skin had felt like a flannel bed sheet and it almost hurt when she pulled away. He licked this dose off her tongue, per her discretion. It would've been hot if he hadn't imagined what it might feel like to lick a flannel sheet and almost gagged into her mouth. He said, "Sorry, I thought about if your tongue was a flannel sheet." She giggled and he giggled back. He kissed her more. She was so warm. He still couldn't get hard. He just kept thinking. He thought so much about lightyears and flannel sheets until he could barely discern the difference between them. He would've liked to have been wrapped up in either. The last time he had felt this introspective was when he was peaking on nitrous, but it was obvious he was still coming up. He started feeling sweaty and cold. He told himself that wasn't abnormal for ecstasy. He was trying to imagine she was a flannel bed sheet. He was sweating so bad. She was a flannel bed sheet and he was a lightyear and his skin was starting to feel like it was rising off his skeleton. He felt like he'd pissed his pants. He'd pushed her off and bolted for the bathroom. The fan in there was too loud. The manicured hand combing his hair back was burning his scalp. The toilet was kind of grimacing at him all smug-like. He didn't know what a lightyear was. He knew this was bad E. He vomited for an hour straight and meditated briefly on how horribly unsexy he felt before passing out. He woke up with an icepick headache and bummed another cigarette and apologized for pissing his pants on her bed (which he didn't actually do, but this was only clarified after he expressed he thought he had). He insisted that it wasn't her, she was beautiful, she was great, it was just the drugs, it was his own fault, but he still didn't give her his number. He just took the train as close as it went to his apartment, smelling like the very unsexy kind of sweat. Instead of showering, he had popped a Xan and went to bed. It was 3pm. And that was more or less what he had been doing since he left the Port Mafia.

While he recalls this, he makes some vague hand motions and opens his mouth a few times, not unlike a fish, as if he's about to speak but doesn't quite have the words yet. It's not that he doesn't want to tell you. You've been around long enough to have seen him and others high out of their minds plenty of times before. He knows you'd barely blame him for the wretched financial hole he has himself in now that Mori isn't around to sugar-daddy all his substances for him. It isn't remotely about the drugs.

It's about the fact that you found him in a bar in Numazu by total chance and paid his weeks-long tab before even asking him any questions about where he's been. He's not sure why you did that.

It's about the fact that you paid for the hotel room he's sitting cross-legged on the bed in, in front of you. He's considering how deep the crescents beneath your eyes look.

It's about the fact that you kissed him once when you both were sixteen and it convinced him that he'd never kiss anyone else ever again. But then he left, and in the year and a half since he's last seen you he's had more meaningless sex with more meaningless people than there were freckles across your whole body, which had, by the way, meant everything to him at one point.

"Not really..." Dazai shakes his head. "Anything at all."

You light a cigarette even though it's a non-smoking room. You'll be able to foot the bill.

"Come on," you say out of the corner of your mouth, puffing smoke in his face. "Not really anything at all?"

He doesn't ask, just takes the smoke from your lips to put it between his own. "Drugs," he summarizes truthfully. "Mostly coke. There's nothing like it. I swear it's better than H."

You quirk your mouth in semi-disapproval, taking back your cigarette. "You did always like your blow."

"Been exploring academia too, I suppose. I'm learning calculus right now." He's trying to make up for it. He doesn't need to.

Now you really look at him like he's on drugs. "For fun?" He nods, pleased with himself. "I thought you didn't like pain." You finally smile a little bit.

"It's interesting!" he insists with his signature drama. "God, can I just have my own?" He's gesturing to your pack, and you indulge him, lighting it off your own.

You look like you want to say something else, sucking your cigarette down like it's a race. Dazai studies you. Prompts you with nothing but his eyes, just like he always has, and you understand. It's your turn to look for the words.

"I mean... like... what- what," you make the vague hand motions too, "what are you doing, though? How- how are you... not..."

"Dead?" he finishes. "Yeah. I struck a cute little deal with the government."

He doesn't like how you lean back from him, even if it's slight, even if he expects it. He doesn't like how your eyes narrow and you look at him with something he can only place as distrust. You almost want to get up off the bed, but you stay, gazing into him. You're not flustered so easily by him anymore, and he has to notice. He does. And regardless, he knows exactly what you're thinking before you say it. "I didn't take you for a fed, Dazai." He knows about the gun in your jacket, too, and that you're at attention now. Your use of his last name stings.

"I didn't sell you out," he says, mocking offense, pushing himself up on those gangly limbs to cut a line of whatever's in the little plastic bag he pulls from his back pocket. "I didn't sell anyone out. Ango's a double agent. You have to know." You shrug - you'd be ashamed to admit you hadn't a clue - and your apprehension melts, but only a little. "My record's expunged as long as I clean up and sign on at the ADA in about six months."

You look at him incredulously, but he's busy at the desk. He could've left it at calculus.

"And this is your idea of cleaning up?" you ask.

The response you receieve is a long sniff. Dazai straightens out, huffs, pulls another drag off his cigarette.

If you were anyone else it would definitely be unwise of him to give such information to someone very much still on the inside. As high up as you had been alongside Dazai, knowledge of who had their fingers in what organizations was never for you to have. Your rank has only fallen since he left. You've developed a nose for people - you must after so long in the mafia - and Ango, who lays so low, especially after Sakunosuke's death, isn’t exactly at the top of your list until right now. You briefly wonder how much the boss knows. Mori surely would've killed Ango for orchestrating the freeing of his most precious pet. Mori surely has people after Dazai. As a matter of fact, he might have people after you already, not even an hour after you found the former prince of the underworld slumped over on a bar stool, because you never really know who’s watching. At the end of all that, though, your thoughts snag on whether that's something Ango could help anyone with, or if it was only for Dazai. No snitching would be involved. You don't think you're qualified to be a detective, but certainly there's some community service you could do to mop up after yourself, right?

Dazai seats himself in front of you again. The rest of this conversation does not happen verbally - not right away, at least. Whether it’s the coke or the accusatory tone your voice carried, he looks a little emptier than before. He looks an entire world away from you. You don’t say this aloud but he nods numbly like he hears you. You dimly recall a conversation you had with him years ago in which he told you he’d never done anything in his life that made him proud. That he didn’t really view himself as a person, but rather a machine designed toward destruction. Machines didn’t feel proud - didn’t feel anything, and no more or less when they executed their intended function.

You’re struck with the awareness that you still seem to know him so vividly, despite how much he’s obviously changed. The parts of this machine are shinier as if they’ve been cleaned. Although it grows old, it works like new, given its context. You recognize exactly what it’s doing. What he’s doing. And you think, maybe if you just throw your hand into the gears - even if it hurts you, even if it takes a piece of you off and mangles it - maybe you can get it to stop.

He, too, selfishly considers that you could be his way out. But is it really selfish if he can admit he'd drop it all if you asked him to? Flesh thrown against a monstrous man-made creation. Even though you seem to have stayed so very much the same, he doesn’t assume he knows you like he once did. But these could be the right circumstances. Maybe he just needs some flesh. Just needs somebody.

“You just need somebody.” Your head’s on the pillow, you twirl his hair, and that’s what you say to him after you both fuck like two virgins. You don’t mean to imply that somebody could be yourself, but for what it’s worth, that’s how he takes it. He can’t remember the last time sex made him cry, anyway, so it might as well be you.

“Just fucking leave.”

Your eyes snap open as the words leave him. Leave? Leave the room you paid for? That was rich, considering the kindness you’ve extended to him tonight after he abandoned you. Your throat constricts around the fact that not even ten minutes ago you were entangled with him in a way that felt both familiar and new. You would’ve proposed another round and let him clasp his hands around your neck like he used to. He’d always insist you’d beg him to stop one day, but you never did. Ten minutes ago you were ready to wipe away his bloody nose with your hair if he asked. Now he’s asking you to leave.

You sit up and throw your legs over the edge of the bed. Your eyes burn with tears and you’re about to get up, get dressed, maybe unload the remainder of the clip in your gun into his kneecaps - but he grabs your elbow.

“Leave the Port, idiot.” You look at him. Concern isn’t an emotion that graces Dazai’s features too often, and here it is. “That came out horribly. Plus, you’re so nice and warm. Get back here.”

So you do. You do what you do best when it comes to Dazai - you crawl back, disregarding how he’s hurt you. Hurt himself. And you just cry.

You cry because you’re so relieved you just misinterpreted him. You cry because he gives you whiplash so goddamn easily. You cry because you don’t have to give leaving a second thought. You cry because a year and a half ago he obviously wouldn’t have insisted you follow him. You cry because he’s so out of character and you almost think you like it. You cry because you like how warm he feels, too. You cry because he’s on drugs. He doesn’t cry because he already did while you made him cum, and now his pupils aren’t so blown, but with you against his chest he doesn’t feel like he needs to get up to do another bump, and that’s plenty for both of you. For all intents and purposes, the walls are all down now. Maybe he really needed to find you. You know you really needed to find him. It’s going to be difficult and dangerous and there’s more to be said, but at least you’ve found him.

You’re sniveling. He’s kissing your hair. “You can teach me calculus.”

Dazai recognizes the laugh that rumbles in his chest as one he hasn’t felt since he’d last seen you. “We’ll get ahold of Ango in the morning.”

[luckyroll3]

Crimson Lights: Chapter 3

“I told you he’d be hiding out!” the voice exclaims, echoing through the empty balcony.

I quickly step away from Chris and turn towards the sliding glass door, my heart pounding in my chest. I recognize one of the men approaching us - it’s the friend from the elevator.

“Channie! Why do you always do this?” he exclaims, exasperated as he finally reaches us. He stops abruptly when he notices me standing there, a mix of annoyance and amusement on his face. “Ah, 10th floor girl. I should have known,” he chuckles, taking a swig from the champagne bottle in his hand. 

“It’s Kay,” I correct him, feeling a little annoyed with this new nickname they had given me.

"Kay," Chan introduces with a quick nod of his head. "These are two more of my brothers, Changbin and Jisung." He gestures towards the two men who had joined us on the balcony. "The three of us run the business together."

The man who was in the elevator introduces himself as Changbin and extends his hand towards me. "It's nice to meet you officially," he says with a warm smile. I return the handshake, noticing his muscular build and intense demeanor. Despite his intimidating appearance, his smile brightens up his entire face.

"Hey," I reply. "I've seen you around here quite often. Do you live in this building too?"

“Oh, I live on the 24th floor,” he says with a nonchalant wave of his hand. The champagne bottle glints in the light as he offers it to me, and I can't resist taking my glass off the table to be filled. He pours me a generous amount.

“Ah, the other penthouse,” I note, impressed by how obviously successful their business must be. But then my eyes are drawn to his outfit - or lack thereof. "And where are your sleeves?" I ask, noticing that they've been ripped from his crisp business shirt. I gently remove a stray thread from one of his shoulders.

"Who needs sleeves when you've got these!" He grins, flexing his toned arms for emphasis. His muscles bulge and ripple under his skin, making it hard not to be slightly attracted to his physique and seemingly fun personality. It makes me laugh. 

Jisung, the other brother, lets out an exasperated sigh and rolls his eyes in response to Changbin’s antics. His piercing gaze is framed by long lashes and dark, unruly hair that falls into his face. His features are charmingly eccentric, somewhat resembling a sexy squirrel. It doesn't help that he's currently popping stuffed mushroom caps into his mouth with a mischievous glint in his eye. His puffy cheeks and slightly larger teeth only add to his playful charm. Despite being around the same height as Chris, he has a leaner build. "You can call me Han," he says, brushing past Changbin to eagerly shake my hand.

"Nice to meet you, Han," I reply with a smile. "Do you also live here?"

"No," Han responds. "This building is a bit much for my taste. My partner and I live a few blocks away.” A smirk crosses his face before he continues, “Sorry for interrupting whatever the two of you were getting into out here." Han's eyes flicker mischievously between Chris and myself.

Han then turns to address Chris. "But Marco and his people are about to leave. We really need to get this shit sorted and that paperwork signed before he walks out that door." His tone is urgent, hinting at a deeper sense of tension behind the casual facade of his words. “We can’t afford any additional delays.”

The tension in the room was palpable as Han's words hang in the air.

Changbin took another swig from the bottle in his hand before saying firmly, "He's stalled these negotiations long enough. If it's not taken care of now, we'll have to resort to drastic measures. And I know you want this resolved quickly so that it doesn't get out of hand... Again." His voice is filled with frustration.

Chris let out a weary sigh and runs a hand through his hair. "Ah shit. Okay," he says, rubbing his face tiredly. "Let's deal with it then." He turns to me apologetically. "I'm sorry. Do you mind waiting for me? This shouldn't take more than 30-45 minutes."

I shake my head. "No problem," I reply calmly. "Go take care of what you need to. I'll be here," I assure him.

"Let's go," Chris says decisively, motioning for Han and Changbin to head back inside.

With a small nod, Changbin passes me the bottle of champagne before sliding open the glass door and disappearing back into the bustling living room. Han gives me a smile and says a quick goodbye before trailing behind Changbin.

"Bye," I reply softly.

Chris grasps my hand and squeezes it briefly. "Sorry," he whispers, his eyes conveying a sense of remorse as he walks backwards towards the sliding glass door and slips through it, closing it behind him with a soft click.

The air feels heavy and I’m left alone with my thoughts and worries until Chris returns. I sink into one of the plush loungers on the balcony, pulling Chris' jacket tighter around my shoulders. I take comfort in his scent that still lingered on the fabric. My gaze returns to the view from the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance. Slowly sipping on the remaining champagne, I let my mind wander. After some time, I check my phone only to realize I had been lost in thought for nearly an hour.

Feeling slightly restless and a little buzzed, I reenter the party and scan the crowded room for any sign of Chris. When I can’t find him, I decide to retreat back to my apartment. As I walk towards the elevator, I can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment on where the night could have gone.

--

I’m seconds from falling asleep on the couch when a sharp knock on the door jolts me awake. I groggily check my watch and see that it’s just past 1:30 in the morning, a mere two hours since I left the party.

I crack the door open to find Chris standing there, holding two bottles of champagne in one hand and a tray of delectable desserts in the other. He's dressed down in a black hoodie, loose basketball shorts, white socks, and black Nike slides. His hair is slightly damp with curls at the ends, giving him a disheveled but attractive look. It’s the most casual and relaxed I’ve ever seen him.

A mischievous smirk plays on his lips as he presents his gifts. "I come with an apology and a peace offering…if you'll have me."

I can't help but smile at his boldness as I open the door wider to let him in. "Chocolate and alcohol are always solid apology gifts," I quip back.

He enters the room, sliding off his shoes and leaving them by the door. I can see the exhaustion in his eyes, but he still manages to flash me a bright smile. "I'm so glad you're still awake," he says, his voice heavy with relief. He walks into the living room, carefully placing the bottles and tray on the coffee table. I close the front door behind me and follow him, admiring the way his broad shoulders and ass move as he walks. When he turns around, he pulls me into a deep hug, holding me tightly against his chest. It’s the type of hug you give someone you’ve known forever, but I don’t question it. Instead, I close my eyes and relish in the warmth of his body against mine as he whispers in my ear, "I missed you." 

Inhaling deeply, I take in the comforting scent of his body wash. Is that a mix of lavender, musk, and a hint of vanilla? I ask myself. He places soft kisses along my neck before pulling away and taking a step back to look at me. His gaze sweeps over my body, taking in the cropped tank top and shorts.

"I really like this look," he says with a hint of mischief in his voice as his hand caresses the exposed skin just below my top. "You were wearing something similar when I stopped by the other day. It took all of my willpower not to touch you," he confesses, his voice low and husky.

A laugh escapes my lips as I sit down on the couch, feeling giddy and flattered by his words. "I probably would have let you," I tease before making myself comfortable on the couch.

Chris chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of desire and amusement. He takes a seat beside me on the couch, our thighs brushing gently against each other. The air between us crackles with an undeniable tension, a magnetic pull drawing us closer together. "Well, good thing I came prepared tonight then," Chris says with a playful glint in his eyes. He proceeds to uncork both of the champagne bottles. He hands one to me and picks up the other. We clink the bottles together before taking a sip.

“Fuck the glasses, huh?” I ask before taking another slip. “So classy,” I chuckle.

“Only the best for you,” he laughs. “This champagne is $300 a bottle!” Chris reaches for one of the desserts on the tray and offers it to me with a smile. "Try this one first," he suggests, his eyes fixed on my face as I take a bite. The sweetness of the treat dances on my taste buds, and I let out a satisfied hum. "Delicious," I comment, earning a pleased grin from Chris. With a gentle touch, he takes his thumb and wipes away the smudge of rich, melted chocolate left at the corner of my mouth. He brings his thumb to his lips, teasingly licking off the remnants of the sweet treat before he picks up something else for me to try.

We go back and forth feeding each other different desserts while indulging in the champagne. As we chat and laugh, I find myself drawn to Chris even more than I had earlier. His easy smile and genuine laughter were infectious, and he seems more relaxed here than he was at his own party. The tension from earlier in the evening melted away, replaced by a sense of intimacy that felt both thrilling and terrifying. 

We pass the time in deep conversation, baring our souls and recounting memories from our pasts. We lose track of time as we sit side by side, lost in each other’s words and getting tipsy from all the champagne and sugar. As the night progresses, our hands seem to have a mind of their own, slowly inching closer and closer until they are intertwined, our fingers lacing together. Our bodies also start to gravitate closer together.

“Can I ask you something?” I say turning my body towards him, settling one leg on the couch.

His free hand starts to gently caress my thigh. He nods, looking into my eyes, “Anything.”

“I heard people referring to you as Chan or Channie," I say, picking up a chocolate covered strawberry and taking a bite. I bring the rest of it to his lips, invitingly. He indulges me, taking a bite, while still staring in my eyes. “What’s that about?” My curiosity piqued, wanting to understand this part of him.

A shy smile creeps onto his face as he answers my question. "Ah, Chan is my Korean name," he says, his eyes sparkling with nostalgia. "It's actually my middle name, but everyone in the tight-knit Korean community we grew up in called me Chan. They felt Chris was too westernized. It kinda stuck."

I nod, taking in this new information about him. The scent of fresh strawberries fills the air as I lick the juice from my fingers, unable to resist their sweet stickiness. "Interesting," I say, meeting his gaze again. "And what about hyung?"

He chuckles softly, delighted that I've picked up on this detail. "You have a good ear," he says approvingly. "Hyung basically means older brother. In Korean, we tend to use honorifics as a sign of respect and formality."

My heart flutters as he takes my hand in his own and gently places each finger in his mouth, sucking off the remaining strawberry juice. The intimate gesture sends shivers down my spine. "Anything else you want to know?" he whispers, his voice low and seductive as he leans closer to me. I can feel myself getting lost in his captivating presence.

I shake my head slightly, feeling a rush of desire and nervousness swirling inside me at his proximity. "Not right now," I manage to whisper back, my voice barely above a breath as I try to steady my racing heart. His thumb strokes my palm gently, sending a wave of electricity through me.

Chris leans in even closer, his gaze locked on mine, his lips hovering just inches away from mine. I can feel the heat radiating off him, mixing with the intoxicating scent of champagne and chocolate that surrounds us. His eyes search mine for any sign of hesitation. But there is none. I meet his gaze with a mixture of longing and anticipation, silently giving him permission to close the distance between us. The room fades away, leaving only the two of us in this suspended moment.

Without breaking eye contact, he closes the small distance between us and captures my lips in a soft, firm kiss. It's like a spark igniting between us, setting off a chain reaction of fireworks in my chest that moves down to my groin. His lips are warm and velvety against mine, moving in sync as if they were made for each other. He pulls me closer to his body until there is no space left between us and I have to wrap my legs around his waist. My hands instinctively find their way to his hair, tangling in the curls I’ve been eyeing all night.

As we kiss, our tongues dance in a rhythm that only fuels our desire. Each touch sending shockwaves of arousal through our bodies. My body presses against his, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric of his hoodie.

His hands glide up my back, feather-light touches leaving trails of tingling sensations in their wake. I moan softly as his fingertips brush against the sensitive skin between my shoulder blades. One hand boldly ventures forward and cups my breast, his thumb and forefinger teasing and rolling my nipple until it hardens. His other hand moves to rest on my hip, his fingers digging into my flesh as he presses his growing erection against me. I push back into it, craving more of his touch. He groans into my mouth, then he pulls back to whisper hotly in my ear: "You have no idea how long I've wanted this." He tugs at the hem of my tank top, lifting it up and over my head before tossing it aside with urgency, leaving me bare before him. He takes a moment to admire my body. "Beautiful," he breathes as his tongue dips down to flick across my collarbone. Then, he takes one of my breasts into his mouth, the pink of his lips juxtaposed against the smooth brown of my skin, and begins to suck gently, sending waves of pleasure through me. I gasp and cling to him.

As he moves from one breast to the other, I gasp out his name, “Chris….” My fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as he nibbles and sucks at my sensitive skin. A low chuckle rolls through his chest and mine as he continues his assault on my body. He traces a path of kisses from my tits, past my collarbone and up my neck, stopping to bite gently on my earlobe. "You smell incredible," he whispers against my skin, before capturing my lips in a deep kiss once again.

He scoots back slightly to remove his hoodie and I help him slip it off. "Damnnnn..." I say. I breathe out as my eyes trail down his toned body. His abs are perfectly sculpted, and my hands itch to trace their lines. My fingers tentatively touch the v-shaped line at his hips and work their way up his abs, traveling over his pecks and his shoulders, feeling every inch of him before he leans back in for another kiss.

Chris' hips thrust forward, pressing against me just enough to remind me of what he wants, begging for a release. My teeth graze my lower lip in anticipation as I reach for the waistband of his shorts, tugging at the strings to untie them. As the knot comes undone, I eagerly slip my hand inside his boxers and wrap my fingers around his hard cock. To my surprise, it's thicker than I imagined, filling my hand completely. A low growl escapes Chris' lips as I circle my thumb around the sensitive head of his cock, teasing him with slow strokes up and down his shaft. "Mmmm...you found it," he chuckles. Locking eyes with me, he moves his hand down my belly and into my underwear. A shiver runs down my spine as his fingers explore my wetness, teasing and tantalizing me in all the right ways. His smile grows wider when he feels how ready and eager I am for him. He slips a finger inside me, eliciting a gasp from my lips as I grind down onto it with eagerness. His thumb joins in on the action, rubbing firm strokes over my clit that send sparks of pleasure shooting throughout my body. “Tell me what you want,” he whispers, his voice sending shivers down my spine.

"I want you," I reply breathlessly, barely able to form the words as waves of pleasure wash over me.

“Right answer,” he says with a smirk. He removes his hand from between my legs and effortlessly lifts me up, maneuvering us into a new position on the couch. Chris eases himself out from underneath me and gently lays me back on the cushions. He then positions himself between my bent legs, planting soft kisses down my body starting at my lower lip. He moves along my jawline and down my neck. His lips travel further south, leaving a trail of heat and longing in their wake as they make their way to my breasts. Slowly, tantalizingly, he continues his descent until he reaches the soft skin just below my belly button. With practiced ease, he tugs at the waistband of my shorts, coaxing them off my hips with gentle movements. After discarding them, his attention turns to my underwear which he starts to remove teasingly with his teeth, pulling them down inch by inch with maddening slowness.

Just as I am about to lift my hips to help speed the process, his phone suddenly begins to vibrate. With a defeated sigh, he pulls away from me and reaches for the phone on the coffee table. I watch him as he reads the series of messages coming through, his expression changing from frustration to concern, and then a slight hint of anger creeps in.

I sit up, using my elbow to prop me forward. “Everything okay?” I ask.

He shakes his head without looking up from the phone. He sends a message back and places the phone on the table before turning back to me, his eyes filled with regret. “I’m so sorry to have to do this to you for the second time tonight.” He sighs, sitting between my legs and kissing the top of my knee. “There’s an emergency that I need to take care of.” He reaches onto the floor and hands me my tank top.

I can’t help but feel disappointed at the interruption, but I can see the seriousness in his eyes and know that something important must have come up. I sit up and pull on the tank top, then hand him his hoodie that had ended up landing on the back of the sofa. “Those damn spreadsheets, huh?” I say, trying to lighten the mood and keeping the other questions I have to myself. I spot my shorts next to his feet and I pull those on too.

He laughs as he puts his arms through the hoody before pulling it over his head. “These fucking spreadsheets are a menace.” He turns to me with a sincere look in his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He hands me his phone. “Put your number in. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He gets up and walks to the door, placing his feet in his slides.

I hand him back the phone and I hear the text he sends to mine, ensuring that I have his number as well. “Come here,” he says, softly pulling me in for a tight hug. His strong arms wrap around me and I bury my face into his chest. He pulls back slightly, allowing himself to lean in and press his lips against mine in a passionate, slow kiss. One hand slides down to firmly grip my ass. He finally pulls away and whispers, “Bye,” before slipping out the door.  

[ask-marios-apprentice]

Plumbers log, 311016

I have an Experience that I feel needed to be talked about

It was Halloween. I wouldn't think anything of it normally.

I started the day like any other. I had woken up in my bed. Sleeping in as I only had one appointment

I had showered. I gotten dressed. And walked down the stairs to our kitchen.

Meggy was already up, as was Peach.

I remember we had my wife's favorite in the morning. A steak and tofu omelette. Personally I can't stand eggs or tofu. But I forced myself to eat the dish. I would just stop by Retties or Paisansos to get a Pizza de Salami later.

I talked with Peach and Meggy. Peach had a normal agenda for the day. An appearance at the E.A.C.H. center as well as some appearances at some gatherings.

Meggy was going to hang out in the castle. she did not really seem interested in trick-or-treating. Truthfully, it seems like she changes her mind every other year. I guess it has to do with her hiding her hair under her hat. But I try to be supportive anyway.

I finished my cappuccino and grabbed my toolbox.

I needed to stop by Wundeshwun. I ran through the obstacle course for old times sake. I swear. Changing the flag with your own never gets old.

Though once I re-replace the when that's supposed to be there. It becomes a little less fun.

I picked up a part I needed. Though as it was afternoon when I got the part. I decided to get lunch at Retties.

I only ate a small 10 inch Supreme Pizza. Of course I did leave some room for dessert with about six cannolis.

Unfortunately as I was about to enjoy my seventh. I got an alert from Castle town on my flip phone.

Mama mia.

It was Tatanga. I haven't fought him since 2006 when I was scouting and whether or not me and Peach wanted to have our wedding on the moon.

I rushed immediately to Castle town after stuffing the other three cannolis in my mouth and paying.

Tatanga was wrecking everything. Honestly if it wasn't for the fact he was an evil alien, I would have written a letter of recommendation to my old boss in college Spike.

I jumped between some broken rubble and an unwrecked building.

This pesky conqueror was here to conquer the kingdom. Mostly out of Revenge for me saving my cousin-law Daisy back in the eightys.

We fought for a bit. I jump on his head and he attacks.

He managed to actually get some good hits up at me.

I landed in a museum. Honestly, I'd say I might have been done for if I haven't been through this trouble before.

Tatanga was about to attack.

When suddenly. I heard a yell. Coming from the other side of the hall.

It was some kid in an employee uniform with a bush with super balls.

He started throwing them at Tatanga.

I'm not sure what happened. But the attack made by this kid made Tatanga retreat.

I dusted myself off. And was going to thank the kid. But before I could, I was surrounded by fans and news reporters. I did make sure to thank the kid on the news but I think he was pushed out of the way so he couldn't see it in person.

Later in the day when I came back home to the castle. I asked Toadsworth for a favor. I asked him if he could bring the kid here. I'd like to thank him personally and offer him a medal.

I got myself ready in the evening.

I would invite him into the meeting room we use for battle strategies and paying our taxes. I even brought out a couple slice of my favorite cake, pepperoni cheesecake.

I did do a little bit of book learning to see who this kid was. His name is Garth and he was in the news about a year ago. He was unfortunately taken from his home from a device that acts like a warp pipe.

I can understand the feeling. If it wasn't for Luigi, the princess, and Toad. I would have never gotten used to the Mushroom Kingdom

When the kid arrived. I explained that it was an honor for him to be there. I could see the smile on his face. He explained that he was a big fan of my Adventures.

As I was about to actually show him the medal. He said something that's shook me to my core

"you've done so much good for this world and met so many amazing people people. You've been to the Underwhere and back. You fought Bowser and saved Princess Peach dozens of times. You've helped places like New Donk City, Rapland, Dome City, Rogue Port, New York City, Pilloh Island..."

He kept going on and on about all the stuff I've done for quite some time.

I've never heard it told so passionately.

I decided to make a decision.

I would offer this kid a chance to be my Apprentice and take over my title of SUPER

I'll do it as a thank you. A chance for him to be a hero like me. Since he looked up to me.

I assume that he might resign.

But there is a chance that he might prove himself. I can see him becoming SUPER

...

SUPER Garth.

It has a nice ring to it.

But only time will tell.

[peaches2217]

⚡️

For the longest time, I’ve always headcanoned Peach being afraid of thunderstorms, since that’s usually the kind of weather Bowser likes to strike in.

⚡ - Scared of thunderstorms

You, my friend, are a genius.

Hiding

~~~

As soon as the Shiverian ambassador took his leave and the doors shut behind him, Peach slumped back in her seat. Typically she waited at least another ten seconds, just to make sure she was truly alone, but her mind was reeling so violently she could feel it in her bones. All she wanted was a moment’s rest.

Discussing trade routes and the renewal of international contracts while also pretending nothing was wrong in the face of constant threat proved difficult.

“Are you alright?” the most tender, most compassionate voice she’d ever had the honor of knowing inquired, and instantly she felt just a bit lighter. 

Mario had already relaxed his attentive and dignified posture in favor of stretching his arms over his head. This was normally where he’d crack wise about his aching muscles, how agonizing it was to stand in one spot for so long, his eagerness to spend the rest of the day on the move, but he offered nothing of the sort today. His eyes had caught hers during the meeting more than once. He knew she was in distress.

And why was the great Mushroom Princess in such distress? What threat loomed over her and caused her endless torment?

A thunderstorm. She was scared of a sodding thunderstorm.

With each crash of thunder, she had been forced to gather handfuls of her skirts under the table and hang onto the emissary’s every word to keep her own mind centered, or count each of his whiskers, or follow every last stitch and weave of his parka when the old creature began to ramble aimlessly. Losing face wasn’t an option. Revealing that one of her greatest fears was a fear shared by many a small child was equally unacceptable. Even so, keeping it reigned in for so long was exhausting. 

Each time their eyes met, Mario had nodded to her, a silent promise that nothing and no one would hurt her. Now that they were alone, she could feel the pent-up tension leaving her body. She had been safe all along. She could be no safer than she was now.

She smiled and prepared to assure him that she was alright, if tired and a bit frustrated — but an ear-splitting crack of thunder froze her before she could utter a single sound.

The bright and familiar delegation room went dark around her, and suddenly she was alone in her bed, shivering but not knowing why. Unpleasant sensations overwhelmed her huddled form. A sense of dread so heavy it nauseated her. Quick, shallow breaths, too frightened to fill her lungs properly.

Her bed covers ripped back and ice-cold claws wrapping around her.

“Peach?”

WIth a gasp, she was back in the delegation room. The silk of her dress stuck uncomfortably to her skin with sweat, yet a shiver still ran down her spine.

Eyes of the gentlest blue fixated on her.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw herself forward and bury her face into his chest, grip the straps of his overalls, weep and beg him to take away her memories of that night. Instead, she forced herself to breathe. Inhale, hold. Exhale, hold.

Mario held her gaze as she calmed herself, whispering reassurances all the while — “It’s okay, you’re safe, I’m right here,” anything and everything she needed to hear in that moment. He had taken her hands at some point and held them securely within his own. She was shaking, she realized, yet he was so steady, so stable against her.

Thunder rumbled once more outside of the window, distantly this time. He rubbed his thumbs in circles over the backs of her hands.

“I feel so childish,” Peach whispered, her throat tight.

“You’re not.” Mario squeezed her hands briefly before dropping one to brush a loose strand of hair from her face, and she sighed against his touch. He was far too understanding. Far too patient.

After another moment, he asked, "How are you feeling?"

Peach couldn’t help a rueful smile, closing her eyes and leaning her head into his palm. “Like I want to curl up and hide.”

Thunder. She flinched and willed herself to focus on his touch, the warmth of his skin which permeated his gloves. She willed herself not to go back to that night. It was over. She was safe now. She was home safe, and Bowser was down for the count, and the one who always came through for her was right here.

Something in Mario’s expression shifted when she opened her eyes. He studied her face for a moment, and she in turn studied his, watching as a sort of enlightenment bloomed across his features.

He squeezed her hand once more and gave a single nod of his head. “Then let’s hide.”

And before she could ask any questions, he pulled her from her seat and led her out of the room and into the grand halls of the palace.

No one gave them a second glance as he led her towards the southern wing wherein lay her quarters. Mario had been a castle mainstay for years now, serving as her personal daytime guard for most of that time. There was nothing unusual about him escorting her to her room, especially in light of recent events, namely the two months she was kept as Bowser’s prisoner after being taken by force in the dead of night.

Mario had risked and almost lost his life ensuring it never happened again. Even so, he and the entire royal council agreed that there was no keeping the princess too safe. So in the interest of her security, he was assigned to watch over her at all times; he spent his days accompanying her as per usual and spent his nights on a cot in her drawing room, always on high alert, her ever-faithful, ever-selfless guard.

At least, that was the official story. In truth, nothing kept him there past sunset beyond his own free will and her tentative request, and the idea of sleeping on opposite sides of her bedroom door fell through within the first hour of the first night. Now she dozed each evening and woke each morning tucked safely into his arms. But no one aside from them and their closest friends needed to know that yet.

They made it to her room quickly and without incident, and Peach was almost ashamed of the relief she felt. Already she was eager to hide beneath the blankets with him. She would happily flop right onto the mattress, heels, makeup, crown and all.

Once inside, Mario took hold of the uppermost duvet… and yanked it completely off of the bed. Not what she had been expecting, but he’d never led her astray before, he wouldn’t start now. Right?

She observed in stupefied silence as he brought the blanket over to her desk, a sturdy and ornate piece with a roll top and an empty cubicle framed by drawers, large enough for her to freely move her legs during long hours of study (or swing them like a giggling teenager when writing to her beloved hero). Mario pulled her chair out from its nesting place within that cubicle and began arranging the blanket in its place, singling out the heaviest objects on the desktop to keep it held in place.

It hung in front of the entrance like a curtain, and she felt her face go warm in embarrassment when she realized what he was doing.

“...You’re making a blanket fort.”

“Nope!” He remained focused on his work, his bushy mustache unable to hide his cheerful smile. “This will be much cozier than a blanket fort. Nice, dark, quiet—” he stepped back to admire his work, then turned and presented it to her with a flourish. “Perfect hiding spot!”

She was so baffled that she didn’t even notice another round of thunder.

“This isn’t really helping the, you know, ‘feeling childish’ thing,” she confessed. Bless her Mario, her sweet, brave, noble Mario, she knew his intentions were nothing but pure, and yet…

He hummed in understanding, yet he remained every bit as bright. “No, no, Princess,” he said, approaching her and reaching for her hands, “I promise, there’s nothing childish about it! Luigi does it sometimes you know. Whenever he’s anxious or all his senses are overloaded? He’ll back a table against the wall, throw a blanket over it, crawl inside, e ecco qua! He emerges a new man.”

Stubbornly, Peach tried not to laugh. He couldn’t be serious. Yet the combination of Mario’s impassioned description and the mental images it invoked wrenched a smile from her all the same.

He was being serious. And for some reason, she was buying into it. Stars above she loved this man.

“...Alright. I’ll give it a shot.”

Mario cheered and gave her knuckles a quick kiss before rushing back to the improvised hideaway, lifting one corner of the blanket and ushering her inside. “Your Highness.”

Everything within Peach protested as she sank to her knees in front of her desk and crawled inside. She ignored it and busied herself pulling layer after layer of silk into the enclosure; once she had succeeded in stuffing herself and her dress inside, Mario dropped the blanket back into place, and everything went dark.

Peach blinked, settling into her chosen corner and assessing her emotions as they played out. She felt ridiculous. She felt like a child. Worse yet — she felt secure. He was right. There was something oddly comfortable about this setup. For a moment, she entertained the thought of some villain entering her room, only to leave in a huff upon seeing her bed empty, as though this little alcove were a secret and private extension of the castle rather than a desk with a blanket draped over it.

Thunder, uncomfortably close this time.

“So what do you think, Princess?” Mario asked almost as soon as she registered the thunder. Her pulse quickened, and briefly her mind took her back to that fateful night, but she swallowed heavily and replied before it could take hold of her.

“It’s not bad,” she said. “But it’s a bit roomy for my taste.”

“Oh?”

“You could easily fit two more of me in here, or maybe three Toads.”

“Or… maybe one portly plumber?”

“I was thinking a dashing, handsome knight, actually.” Peach’s trepidation faded to the back of her mind at his bashful chuckle. For someone so outgoing, he flustered so easily.

She heard a soft thud, and then light poured back into the enclosure as Mario lifted the blanket to crawl in with her. A lovely blush still colored his cheeks. “I can’t promise I won’t trample your dress.”

“I have at least ten more in this exact pattern.”

He puffed out his chest in a dramatized show of confidence. “Then here we go!”

They spent at least three or four minutes twisting about, accidentally elbowing one another in the face or in the stomach, giggling together as they tried and mostly failed to accommodate the mass of her skirts and his, well, everything. But eventually they found a comfortable position: Mario pressed his back into one corner with his knees bent, and Peach half-sat half-laid in his lap facing the opposite direction, her cheek on his shoulder and her skirts swallowing the remaining space.

“There we go!” Mario shifted beneath her, and once he settled, he rested his arms around her waist. “Nice and safe, see? No one will find us here. Nothing will hurt us.”

Peach hummed and relaxed against him, draping her arms loosely around his torso. That was something he’d started doing lately, she noticed. It was never “me” and “you” anymore, it was “we”, “us”. Was it intentional? Did he even know he was doing it?

Whatever the case, she hoped he’d continue. She liked thinking of themselves as a set, two inseparable pieces of one cohesive whole.

A clap of thunder even closer than the last pierced the air around them. She gasped on instinct, her body going cold, but immediately Mario’s arms tightened around her, and he drowned out the noise with a stream of reassurances. He sounded so resolute, so certain of what he was saying. And in the darkness surrounding them, they may as well have been the only two people in the world.

Peach snuggled into his warmth and let her fears be carried away on the wings of his promises. He had never led her astray before. He wouldn’t start now.

[useless19]

It takes Bowser three tries to find a cupboard with food in it and it's only a measly bag of oats at that. Hopefully, Kamek's just behind on the shopping and they haven't been living like this the whole time Bowser's been away. There's a handful of spice jars in the next cupboard; Bowser swipes the lot and then finds a saucepan hiding under the sink.

Oats, water, and a good dollop of fire flower powder to start with on the stove. Porridge is easy and having food on hand always makes it easier to talk things over with people.

"Dad!"

Little claws scramble up the back of Bowser's shell before he can turn around to greet his son. A moment later, Junior drops his chin on Bowser's shoulder and smiles. Bowser ruffles his hair, unable to stop his own grin.

"Hey, kid. Been keeping Kamek in one piece?"

"Urgh, he doesn't let me go fast anywhere," Junior complains. "I have to go as slow as a snail so his shrivelled old toes can keep up."

Bowser laughs. "Atta boy, Junior."

"Are you back for real this time?" Junior asks.

Bowser winces. Junior catches him and whines.

"Junior, we've talked about this," Bowser says firmly. "I have to stay away for now."

"But I miss you," Junior says.

"I know, buddy." Bowser picks Junior off his shell and stands him on the kitchen counter in front of him. Junior is at eye-level, which hadn't been the case the last time Bowser had spoken to him like this. "This job's important, okay? If I keep it for a while longer we'll be set for life." Theoretically, anyway. "You're always number one, but I can't just do what I want and still have things like food and shelter. Sometimes I've gotta do things that aren't fun so you can get tasty stuff every now and then."

Junior looks away mulishly. Bowser sighs. He's been over this several times, but it's never easy to argue against kid logic.

"I miss you," Junior repeats.

"I know." Bowser risks a hug and is relieved when Junior clutches back. "Speaking of food, did Kamek forget to do the shopping this week? Or have you hidden all the good stuff to keep it away from me?"

"I'm hiding it from Wendy," Junior says, exasperated, frustration at Bowser's absence already forgotten. "She steals my choco-mango nuggets and replaces them with rabbit poop and then tells me I've got a diseased tongue because it tastes funny. But I know she did it! My tongue's normal, isn't it, Dad?"

Bowser barely manages to move his head out of the way before Junior sticks his tongue in his eyeball. He scruffs Junior by the shell and drops him down to the ground.

"Your tongue's fine." Bowser waves the sticky spoon at Junior. "If you want anything tasty in your breakfast, you better get it now. It's nearly ready."

"Be right back!" Junior shouts, sprinting out of the pokey kitchen.

Bowser finds Kamek's fine china in pride of place. It's more magic than china now, given that Bowser wasn't the most careful koopaling growing up and now Junior is following almost exactly in his clawed footsteps.

A thundering of feet announce Junior's reappearance. He's got a paper bag with a mushroom logo on it clutched tight in one hand.

"Who's that guy in your bed?" Junior asks. He wrinkles his snout. "He screamed when I saw him."

"Did you wake him up?" Bowser says.

"No, he was already awake," Junior blatantly lies.

Bowser lets him get away with it this time. He waves a bowl in Junior's direction, it's snatched out of his hand in a second by energetic kid claws. Junior sits at the table (when did he get big enough to not need a booster?) and carefully rations out a small handful of chocolate nuggets into his bowl.

"So who is he? C'mon, c'mon, c'mon."

"It doesn't matter, Junior."

Junior scowls and shoves a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "He looks like the king, but he's too messy."

"Too messy?" Bowser snorts.

He catches sight of a flash of green at the doorway. Luigi hovers, uncertain, and makes some confusing gestures at Junior. Bowser might have gotten better at reading Luigi's body language and deciphering what he's actually saying behind his fancy words, but this intentional signalling is lost on him. Bowser shrugs.

"Yeah. His hair was all stuck up and he was drooling on your pillow! Eww!" Junior says through full cheeks.

Bowser grins at Luigi, who buries his face in his hands.

"Well, maybe you should introduce yourself and see what he says." Bowser points across the room.

Junior turns and waves. Luigi slinks in, still wrapped in Bowser's blanket. He stands awkwardly by the table until Bowser kicks a chair out for him.

"Hi!" Junior says brightly, cheeks still bulging, "I'm Bowser Junior!"

"Good morning," Luigi says with an awkward wave, "I'm Luigi."

"Like dad's boss, the king?" Junior screws up his snout. "Doesn't that get confusing?"

"I… no?" Luigi says, bewildered. "Why would that be confusing?"

Junior spoons more porridge into his mouth, getting a red smear on his chin in the process. His next protest comes with a spray of oats over the table. Kamek can clean that up later.

"But if you've got the same name as someone it gets confusing!"

"He is the king," Bowser clarifies.

"No way!" Junior says, slamming the end of his spoon on the table in emphasis. "He's too short!"

Bowser laughs as Luigi's bemusement turns into surprised offence. The tip of Junior's topknot barely brushes Luigi's nose. But then, the royal family aren't much for strolling through the castle town without a toad retinue and standing next to toads makes anyone look tall.

"Eat your breakfast," Bowser tells Junior. "If you share your mango-choc bits with the king then maybe he won't have you beheaded for insulting him."

Luigi starts, wide-eyed. "I wouldn't —"

"They're mine!" Junior shouts.

"Right off at the neck," Bowser says. He tweaks Junior's neck with his claws. "And he'd hang your dry shell up as a warning to other cheeky koopalings."

"No way!"

"I really wouldn't," Luigi says, worried.

Junior looks at Luigi suspiciously, and then back to Bowser, calculating.

"He says he's not going to do that," Junior says, testing. He looks between Luigi and Bowser again and then finally takes a nugget out of his bag and pushes it across the table to Luigi. "You can have one. And only because you're nice."

"Thank you," Luigi says, as stiffly polite as if he were meeting a diplomat. "I will reciprocate your generosity when I get the chance."

"Reciprocate?" Junior scrunches up his snout. "Dad, what does that mean?"

"It's just a fancy way of saying he's going to repay you," Bowser says.

"Oh," Junior says. "Why didn't he say that?"

"Because sometimes fancy people have to talk fancily."

"That's stupid."

"Believe me, I know," Luigi says wearily.

"Alright, Junior, off you trot," Bowser says, taking his empty breakfast bowl. "Leave his royal sleepiness alone and go wake up Kamek or something."

Junior hops off his chair, but doesn't run off immediately.

"Will you still be here when Kamek's awake?" Junior asks.

Bowser tugs on his topknot. "You know I don't leave without saying goodbye."

"Okay! Be right back!"

Junior sprints out of the room with his usual hyperactive energy. Has he always been that fast or is Bowser going to regret feeding him chocolate so early?

"He's a nice child," Luigi says.

"He's a brat," Bowser says fondly. "Gets that from me."

"I'm sure if he turned out half as well as you have, the kingdom will be grateful," Luigi says.

His slight smile vanishes when Bowser slams a bowl of porridge down in front of him.

"I don't care what the kingdom wants," Bowser growls. "He'll grow up how he grows up — and that's gonna be awesome. Leave your politicking away from my son."

"I didn't mean…" Luigi slumps. "Sorry. That's just my default response to meeting kids. I should have known better."

"Damn right," Bowser says, less happy with Luigi's misery than he wants to be. "How dare you give a default response to my son."

"I haven't had the chance to get to know him," Luigi says, for once getting Bowser's gist without needing it completely spelled out for him.

"He'll want me to take him down to the river before I go," Bowser says. "You should tag along so I can keep an eye on you too. Don't want you wandering obliviously into danger again."

A wistful longing passes over Luigi's face. Bowser usually sees that when he's thinking about his brother. It only lasts a second, then Luigi shakes his head firmly.

"I have to return to the castle," Luigi says, ignoring his breakfast. "I've been away long enough as it is. I can't — won't — leave the kingdom's fate uncertain for any longer than absolutely necessary."

"Eat your food," Bowser orders.

Luigi makes a wordless noise of frustration. "I can't just —"

"You're not doing anything until you've had breakfast," Bowser says firmly. "Whatever royal planning you want to do can wait five minutes."

Luigi pointedly spoons porridge into his mouth. He coughs, grimaces, then forces himself to swallow. Oh yeah, humans are funny about hot sauce. Delicate constitutions the lot of them.

"I think there's some milk," Bowser says. He opens the cold cupboard to find a handful of potatoes and not much else. "Somewhere."

The last cupboard holds a bottle of milk, spelled to stay fresh. Junior's adamantly against drinking the stuff, so it's not a surprise that there's only a little missing; probably for Kamek's tea. Bowser thumps it on the table in front of Luigi along with a battered tin cup. Luigi gratefully drinks.

"You need a plan," Bowser says. "You always do better with ten minutes to think things through, so take ten minutes."

Luigi looks mutinous, but he continues to eat his breakfast (after mixing in some of the milk). Bowser relaxes by inches.

"Okay." Luigi pushes his mostly empty bowl away. "I'm done. Thank you for breakfast. Can we go to the castle now?"

Bowser gives him a look. Luigi slumps in his chair, looking far more like Junior than royalty. Bowser puts the bowls in the sink and sits down across from Luigi. He taps his claws on the table and Luigi averts his gaze for some reason.

"You need to know what you're going to say to your council before you get there. What do you need to do?" Bowser asks.

"I need to find a way to show the Last Realm that they shouldn't attack," Luigi says. "To do that I have to find the professor, but I don't know where he is right now, so that's going to be a lot of work. And I also need to figure out a polite way of asking the Kongs if they expect the Kremling Empire to attack again soon. They can hold their own, but I have to be able to use our alliance as part of my deterrent methods and I can't do that if they're in open war." He sighs and puts his face in his hands. "Those are just the big two things, and I can't do both at once."

Bowser rolls his eyes. "Of course you can't. That's why you delegate."

"But they're too important to mess up!"

"And you'll mess up both of them if you try to do everything," Bowser says.

"I know…' Luigi's fingers tighten in his hair. It's a wonder he isn't bald from all the tugging. "I realised — yesterday, so it wasn't something I've intentionally been ignoring — I realised that I'm used to doing everything with Mario. We compliment each other really well and since he went missing I… I can't do it on my own."

That makes a lot of sense from what Bowser's observed of Luigi's workload so far. Why everything gets divided into two sets of tasks which Luigi flips between frantically when he remembers that the other exists.

"If I was just half the king Mario was…"

"Stop trying to be Mario, you'll never be Mario," Bowser interrupts. "And you know why?"

"Because I wasn't raised to be king?" Luigi says.

"Because Mario had a Luigi and you don't," Bowser says. "So stop trying to be Mario and figure out how to make being Luigi work for you."

Luigi smiles (Bowser mentally awards himself a point). "I don't suppose you would be interested in being my L—"

"Absolutely not," Bowser snorts. "I'm your knight, not your weedy younger brother. So, how are you going to use the fact that I'm your loyal knight and I have connections that you don't?"

"Loyal," Luigi repeats, amused. He shakes his head to get himself back on track. "Are you saying that you have someone with ties to the Jungle Kingdom?"

"I've got spymasters, pirates, entertainers, and plain old guerrillas." Bowser ticks them off on his fingers as he lists them. "You've got a whole passel of knights who'll do whatever you tell them to and advisors coming out your ears. You're not the best person for every job."

"It still feels like giving up, somehow," Luigi says slowly.

"Come on," Bowser huffs. "You hired me because you knew you weren't awesome enough to be a good deterrent. This is the same thing. Do you want to throw yourself a pity party or do you want to help your kingdom?"

Luigi nods. "I'm sure there are people who will be better than me at searching out the professor. If I write a letter explaining things, that should clear up any confusion he might have. Then I can plan a trip to the Jungle Kingdom to —"

"Not a chance," Bowser says. "Last time you left the castle you walked right into a ninji ambush."

"Which you saved me from," Luigi says. He smiles wryly. "Have I thanked you for that already?"

"At least twice." Bowser crosses his arms. "Give yourself some credit — I've never seen anyone get up a tree that fast."

"Sorry I wasn't more use. I —"

"Nope," Bowser interrupts. "Staying out of danger is your job. Dealing with enemies is mine. I want you up a tree or cowering in a closet at the slightest hint of danger."

Luigi nods. "As long as you're sure you can handle it."

"I can handle anything," Bowser says with confidence. "Don't worry your pretty little head about me."

Luigi chokes a laugh and bats his eyelashes. "Aww, you think I'm pretty?"

"You're the prettiest human I've ever seen," Bowser's mouth spills out before he can hold his tongue.

Luigi's smile freezes. Blood fills his face in that way humans get when they're embarrassed or exerting themselves (in lots of ways, but one particular type of exertion does its best to stick in Bowser's stupid horny head).

"You probably get that all the time," Bowser says, brushing it off. "Now, about —"

"When was the last time you saw someone compliment me?" Luigi interrupts.

"Probably because you spend your time doing less blatant fishing," Bowser says.

Luigi lets the subject drop, but he looks far too pleased with himself. Now he gets Bowser's dropped hints, when they can't do anything because Junior's going to drag Kamek into the kitchen any second now and no doubt Kamek's going to raise a fuss over the food supplies that he hadn't budgeted for and Junior will start asking to go out. Relentlessly.

"Let me fetch a couple of my guys," Bowser says. He thinks Wendy and Lemmy are around somewhere and he's almost certain Wendy has a friend or two amongst the Kremlings. "We'll knock out a plan of action and have you back at the castle in time for lunch."

[salamandergoo]

Flames & Asphodel & Elysium & Love

Written for the @strangerthingswritersguild April Fools Day exchange! This was written for @blaqcats-fics using the prompt “Hades/Persephone Retelling with Hades!Eddie and Persephone!Steve, but has like badass bringer of death vibes for Steve.” I hope I brought the badass vibes for Steve lol

Link to ao3

Steve reached out a hand towards a rotting tree and brushed his fingers over the mushrooms growing out of the decaying bark.  The tree was long dead, it was a home for insects and fungus.  But he knew it had been a home for far longer, the remnants of a birds’ nest in the branches above his head, a hollow containing left behind acorns in the trunk.  Even from a sapling it had provided leaves for other creatures.  There was a certain nobility to the cycle of life and death.  The tree would fall soon, it would decay into the earth and provide nutrients to the plants that would grow from the soil under his feet.  It was… “beautiful,” he whispered.

“A dying tree?”

Steve jumped, turning to face the voice.  There was a crack in the ground and a figure sitting on the edge of it, watching with intense eyes.  “It’s not dying.  It’s already dead.”

“…right.  I hardly think it’s the most beautiful thing in this clearing.”  He smirked and…

Oh, he was flirting.  And oh, Steve kind of liked it.  “Look closer.”  He held out a hand to the stranger and lifted him to stand.  “Look at the moss.  The mushrooms.  The grubs and beetles.  When this falls, it will protect salamanders and snakes.  It died, yes, but it has yet to fulfill the entirety of its purpose.  What could be more beautiful than that?”

The stranger started a moment longer before his expression turned to a wide grin.  “You are Persephone.  Quite passionate about death, I see.”

Steve’s nose scrunched.  “Yes, but please.  Call me Steve.”  He sighed and looked back at the mossy patch right at eye level for a moment.  “Of course I am passionate about death.  Life relies on it.  It’s everything.”  He turned away fully and sighed.  “You are…?”

“Hades.  But I have a feeling we’ll get a little more cozy, so you can call me Eddie instead.”  He rose to his feet and his curls settled on his shoulders after he shook them out.  Steve wanted to reach out and touch, arrange his hair artfully to frame his face.  He wondered if it was softer than it looked or if it was rigid and unkempt.

“Oh, you assume we’ll see more of each other?”

“A god can only hope.”  Eddie gave a sweeping bow and reached out to take Steve’s hand.  He looked up through his eyelashes and brushed his lips to Steve’s knuckles.  Steve’s heart jumped like he’d been struck by one of Zeus’ lightning bolts.

“I see.”  He didn’t want to seem too charmed, not yet.  “I think you only like me for my fascination with decay,” he teased.  “I am hardly interesting beyond that, especially to a god of such status.”

“And what is it that makes you think I could possibly be uninterested in a beauty like yourself?”

“You are the ruler of the Underworld, an entire realm.  Compared to that, am I not… inconsequential?”

“Far from inconsequential my darling,” he purred.  “Without death, my realm is inconsequential.  Without spring, the fields would not be sown.  You are far too important to mortals to even consider yourself inconsequential.  You might be everything.”

“Everything?”  Steve laughed and covered his mouth to attempt to hide his blush.  “You are too much.  Too kind, I would think.”

“Too kind?  Too kind, he says.”  Eddie chuckled, low and warm and it made Steve’s belly feel like a torch in a temple.  “I have never been accused of being too kind, neither by mortal or god.  I should think you are the kind one.”  He looked around the small clearing, grimacing at the dead deer laying just beyond the tree line.  “Is there beauty in that too?”

“Of course.  Life is cyclical.  While the deer’s life is over, it will feed creatures of the woods and sky.  It is a home for flies and a feast for vultures.  And they too, will meet their end eventually.  But we get to observe life over and over again.”  Steve’s eyes sparkled as he gazed at the deer and then up at the tree again.  “Life is a beautiful thing.”

“I suppose it is.”  Eddie was looking right at Steve.  “Say, have you ever been to the Underworld?  I think I would like to show you what comes after for the mortals.”

“You think?”  Steve held out his hand for Eddie to take.  “I suppose a look wouldn’t hurt.”  He wasn’t smiling.  At least, he was trying not to smile.  He allowed Eddie to lead him towards the large break in the earth and peered down warily.  He couldn’t see much, just the distant flickering of flame.  “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Trust me, gorgeous.”  Eddie took Steve’s other hand, back to the break.  “Just look in my eyes and you’ll be okay.”  He took a breath and then yanked Steve forward, pressing their bodies together.  Steve stared into his eyes and could hear the way the earth sealed itself above them, could feel hot air rising up as they fell, faster and faster until they stopped.

His feet touched rocky ground and he could hear something panting behind him.  Something wet touched the back of his neck and he yelped as he let go of Eddie’s hands and turned around.  A great beast stood before him, three pairs of eyes staring and three noses sniffing the air.  “Hello there.”  He held out a hand and touched the wet nose of the middle head.  It sniffed more intensely for a moment before bowing submissively. “Oh, hello.”  Steve couldn’t hold back his giggle as he pet soft our, scratching up towards the large pointed ears.  “Beautiful…”

“That’s Ozzy.”  Eddie grinned and scratched one of the ears.  “And these are Judas,” he pointed to the head on the left.  “And Maiden.”

“Maiden?”

“Yup.”  Eddie opened his arms and grinned as Maiden leaned in and sniffed him.  The heads were each as large as Eddie’s torso, but the beast was gentle with him, even with three mouths of sharp teeth and razor-like claws.

“Ozzy,” Steve murmured, grinning when the wet nose pressed against his cheek.  “And what does this baby… these babies do?”

“Cerberus is a guardian.  Souls try to escape and wannabe heroes try to come and ‘rescue’ them.  Cerberus helps keep order.  Three heads are better than one, isn’t that right baby?” he cooed to the dog.  His massive tail wagged, thudding against the stony ground.

“This is the great Cerberus?  I thought he would be… scarier.”

“To mortals, he is terrifying.  But he is a sweet boy at his core.  He just has to do his job.”  Eddie stepped back and wiped drool off his robes.  “There is still much to see.”

“I hope everything else is half as exciting as Cerberus.”  Steve waved to the beast with a soft laugh.  “He is very sweet.”

“The sweetest.”  Eddie took Steve’s hand again to lead the way.  He was sure footed and almost seemed to glide through his realm, it was like it existed just for him.

Steve supposed it sort of did.  Zeus had control of the skies and Poseidon ruled the seas.  And Eddie had the Underworld with its rocky ceiling seeming as far away as the sky felt from earth.  He’d expected Hellfire and dank air and the screams of the damned, but it was sort of like a well lit cave.

Until they came to a river of fire.  “Huh.”  He crouched down and reached out to touch the flames.  Were he mortal, he’d be burned to the bone in hardly a second, but it was just a tickle to his godly skin.  “Wow… nothing lives in there?”

“It leads the way to the deepest pits of the Underworld.  For the worst of the mortals, they must traverse through the Phlegethon to reach their eternal punishment.  Of course, I don’t dole out the punishments, I simply oversee the order of things.”

“No,” Steve agreed.  “You are no master of death.”  He rose to his feet and considered Eddie a moment.  “Death is not your domain.”  He grinned.  “It is mine.”

“Harmony.”  Eddie offered his hand again and Steve, again, accepted.  He liked holding Eddie’s hand.  Liked being guided like this.  “Without you, my domain does not exist, without my domain, there is no place for souls to continue to.  We balance each other, Stevie.”

“I suppose we do.”  He walked along the edge of the river, the heat of the flames dying down as they continued further away.  Clear water ran near his feet as they entered beautiful fields, full of grass and flowers.  Souls milled about, but Steve was more interested in the flowers.  “Asphodel?”

“Yeah.  This is where most souls come.  Those who were not cruel but not exceedingly exceptional.  There is peace here.”  He began to gather stalks of the flowers and weave them with deft fingers as Steve watched.  “The mortals will lay these at the resting place of their loved ones on earth.  I think there’s a beauty in it, don’t you?”  His tongue poked out as he tied the flowers into a sort of crown.

Steve smiled and reached out, cupping his hands against the flowers.  They grew brighter at his touch, bloomed fully and seemed to stand out among the other white flowers.  “Yeah.  There truly is.”

Eddie reached out to gently lay the crown on Steve’s head.  “Come, I’ll show you where the exceptional go.  The ones who did the most for the gods and their fellow man.  Heroes of legend and the chosen of the mortals.”

Steve’s face felt warm as a late spring’s day as he followed Eddie.  He liked the Asphodel crown more than anything he’d ever worn, he thought.  It had been crafted by Eddie’s hands, made of something from his realm.  He found himself appreciating the realm a little more with each step that he took.  He knew death.  He knew it well, like a friend.  But he’d never seen what came next, had only heard stories.

And he could see the seed of truth in many of those stories, but they failed to mention the good.  The way Eddie’s smile lit up his eyes, the way he showed so much care for all that he was surrounded by.  Steve even felt cared for by the lilt in his voice, the way his eyes crinkled when he grinned, the curve of his lips when he smiled.  He seemed so genuine.

“Are you lonely?”  The question slipped out before Steve could think about asking.

“Lonely?  Nah.”  Eddie looked over his shoulder.  “I’m not alone down here.  You haven’t even met the furies yet.  Red is a real spitfire, I think you’ll like her.  And one of Iris’ children is totally infatuated by her, he brings messages all the time, it’s-“

“You are not alone, I see that.”  Steve reached out this time and took Eddie’s hand.  “But that does not mean you aren’t lonely.  I never see you on Olympus.  I rarely hear of gods traversing down here.”

Eddie went quiet as they stepped into a golden field filled with a rainbow of flowers.  Steve still preferred the asphodel.  “I… have never been asked that.”

“No?”

“No.  I guess… I’ve never considered it.”

The air was warm like they were under the sun, but Steve could tell the difference.  A mortal likely wouldn’t, but he knew the way the sun felt on his skin.  Eddie seemed deep in thought and Steve politely looked away, watched as the souls of mortals and living demigods ran through the fields, all seeming so happy.  It was beautiful, but he’d rather follow Eddie than stay there.

“I think I might be,” Eddie confessed, voice almost too quiet to hear.  “I rule  the Underworld, but have few equals here.  Few who would choose to be here.”

“And if… I would choose to be here?”  Steve stepped closer until he was face to face with Eddie, almost close enough to feel his breath.

“Why would you?”

“It’s beautiful here.  I’ve never seen anything like it, I want to see more, to experience more.  Tell me, Eddie, where is your home here?”

Eddie’s pale skin looked warm as he looked away, even with the golden light shining down, the blush was clear to Steve.  He liked the way it looked on Eddie, the way he tugged at his hair to try and hide it.  “I suppose I should show you.”

He turned away from the fields and Steve took his hand as they walked side by side.  The palace was in what Steve assumed was the center of everything.  It wasn’t lifeless and empty, it was warm and cluttered and so… beautiful.  It felt like Eddie.

“I like it.”  He looked around with a smile.  It felt like home in some way deep inside of him.  In a way his mother’s home in Olympus had never felt.

“You- you do?  I mean.  You do.  Of course you do.”  He grinned.  “Stevie, listen-“

A knock at the door took their attention.  It swung open to reveal Lucas, son of Iris and messenger of the gods.  “Oh.  Hey, that was… easier than I thought.”  He gave an awkward wave.

“Max isn’t here, dude.  She’s busy.”

“I’m not here for Max.  I have been sent by Zeus.”

“Zeus?  The fuck does he want?”  Eddie’s face scrunched up.  Steve wanted to bite him.

“Steve is being summoned.  His mother is looking for him.  It’s been a whole thing, we should get going.  Steve?”

Steve hesitated, looking at Eddie.  “If mother is summoning me, I can’t… I have to go.”

“Will you come back?”  Eddie’s voice was soft.

“I want to.  I do, I want to stay here with you, but I can’t ignore a summons.  I don’t know what mother would do, what Zeus would do.  I can’t do that to Lucas, he’s-“

“A good kid, I know.”  Eddie sighed.  “Just wait here.  I’ll be right back.”  He turned and hurried deeper into the palace.

“…so, Max?”

Lucas looked away, tugging at his robes.  “I’ve only met her a few times.  In passing.  I’m not- it’s not a thing.”  He cleared his throat.  “…Eddie?”

“Might be a thing.  Not sure yet.”

“Huh.  That’s cool, man.”  He nodded.  Another few moments passed in awkward silence.  “Is he coming back…?  Should we… leave?”

“No, no, he said he’d be back.”

“Cool.  Cool.”  He rocked on his feet.

Steve breathed a sigh of relief when Eddie came hurrying back.  “Sorry, sorry, couldn’t find this, had to look.”  He held up a pomegranate, sliced in half.

“Oh.”  Steve’s eyes went wide.  He knew that eating food in the Underworld bound you there.  Everyone knew that, mortals and gods alike.

“You don’t have to, but… this would make certain that you would return to me.”

Steve held out his hands and accepted the pomegranate, digging his fingers into the fruit to remove several seeds.  “I will return to you.”  He leaned in and pressed a delicate kiss to Eddie’s lips and shoved the pomegranate back into his hands.  “I will come back.”

He lifted his hand to his mouth and bit down on several seeds, fingertips sticky with red juice.  He could feel them in his gut upon swallowing.  “I will see you soon,” Eddie murmured as Steve walked away with Lucas.

On the way back to the peak of Olympus, Steve could taste Eddie and pomegranate on his tongue.