#and mark and dc are just cackling

[belles1011]

This gets me every time

I’m cackling at the “Congratulations, Nico… it was Nico, wasn’t it?”

JENSON PLEASE your down badness for nico is showing (we don’t have to wonder who he rooted for that year, it’s Nico)

[rayshippouuchiha]

Juuuust stopping in to say? Your 9/10ths AU? Legit was my Yandere Aizawa awakening! Never knew how WELL it fit until that moment but holy sh*t! :D so much red! All of it flags! Delightful~☆!

I legit can not WAIT for that precinct to fall apart? They are so sh*t to Izuku and yet rely so heavily on him? Have come to expect and take for granted a truely EXCEPTIONAL level of Analysis that honestly? At their level they would never be able to afford for even a FRACTION of the cases they get him to do it for.

He is a blessing from the gods. Ten thousand winning lotteries. Should be their best kept secret and most beloved staff member. But WHERE is he? A dusty closet.

Aizawa is gonna watch them fall apart and laugh. Oh boo hoo, reap what you sow. Izuku is his now. Good luck finding another analyst willing to take the same literally insulting, bordering on illegal, pay you had Izuku on! No one will take it!

NO ONE. Not even amateurs. Your budgets is f*cked, your case load just got countless times more dangerous and difficult, and? Words gotten out through a VERY unhappy Grand Torino (and Scheming Nedzu n Aizawa, but really can you PROVE that?) to the older and retired generations of Heros that you are "unreasonable bastards" who are "impossible to work with".

You know! The parents, grandparents, mentors, and bosses of all those promising young Heros you want to work with you! Huh. Wonder why they suddenly don't want to return your calls. Won't pool resources and Intel.

Gasp! If it isn't the consequences of our own actions! >:Dc

Just? Izuku merrily scribbling away back at the apartment. Finally full and freshly... rested. Having the first peaceful afternoon he's had in YEARS. All while his old workplace metaphorically burns to the GROUND. Aizawa brought Marshmallows. Isn't even gonna eat them. Just wants these f*ckers to know who started the fires.

BURN.

Like? Izuku thinks Aizawa just want out on lovely lil patrol. How peaceful! New apartment, freshly laundered clothes, dinner prepped and ready to go, music playing, the weather's nice~ mmmmm. Yes. He should look up cat toys for their future cat!

Smash cut to "I am the wrathful fist of god" Aizawa. Nedzu is cackling.

As always I am thrilled to be a gateway for you darling!

Ohh the precinct! It is going to be a major case of "don't know what you've got until it's gone" for that entire building only so so much worse because Aizawa and Nedzu are both going to end up involved.

Because yeah, they're never going to find someone of Izuku's skill level to replace him, and especially not with the pay/hours/abuse he tends to put up with. So, like you said, workload/budget/etc all that would have to take a hit to replace him.

And that's before Nedzu puts a black mark on them as a whole and then Gran finds out just how bad shit is because you called it, he's also gonna be pissed.

Like, RIP Tsukauchi and Sansa, you both might want to straight up move.

Once Aizawa is able to get Izuku home with him? Oh Izuku is gonna settle into this new domesticity (with some anxiety but full enthusiasm) meanwhile Aizawa has a kill list and no regrets.

[wannab-urs]

The Spreadsheet Digest - Vol 23

Howdy y'all!

If you're new here this is every new (to me) fic I read this week and some of my silly lil thoughts about them.

I did some catching up on series this week and also did some writing so I've only got 12 fics for you this week! I read a lot of dark shit this week, but that's October for ya. There's still some sweetness in here somewhere if you aren't into dark stuff and I've made sure to mark everything appropriately (I think).

As always you can find all my previous fic recs here.

Recs below the Pedros!

Apple - a Frankie/Santi/Will one shot by @romana-after-dark

You are married to Santi and you have a CNC kink he very happily obliges. You set up a thing where Santi, Will, and Frankie pretend to be home invaders and they gangbang you. Stuff goes a lil sideways and it ends up being NC/DC. This was wonderfully unsettling. I love how there's this strand of believability that they don't intentionally overstep her boundaries. It's dark and scary and feels very real.

sam and diane, eat your heart out a Marcus Pike one shot by @chronically-ghosted

You've been working with Marcus for a while and finally wrapped up the case you were on. You've almost given up ever getting what you want with him when finally!! You both admit your feelings for each other. Cue steamy office make out sesh with thigh riding. I loved the will they won't they shit in the beginning. The frustration makes the pay off so good.

i am touchin', i am grabbin', everything I can't be havin' - a Dieter one shot by @chronically-ghosted

You show up at the doorstep of your long time but estranged family friend Dieter Bravo, soaking wet and with nowhere else to go. You've known him so long you call him Uncle Dee, no I'm not kidding. I almost didn't click on this bc like UNCLE?? But he's not really your uncle and I cannot express enough how fucking hot this was. Like Dieter is just so fucking good this OH MY GOD. If you love Dieter, read this. You'll love it.

Recovery Road - a Dieter series by @chronically-ghosted

Dieter finally gets his shit together, he's clean and married and working on a new project. His costar (you) is a cunt fr. You're on drugs, you're a brat, and you're a mess. And Dieter can't stay away from you. When his wife gets fed up with him and humiliates him in public, you're there to catch him... and ruin his sobriety, his marriage, and maybe everything else. I have a couple chapters left of this but OH MY GOD. I was so MAD at Dieter, but also so sad for him. Don't take that as me saying I didn't love this because I did. I do. It's so beautifully written. The pain and angst and desperation and everything is so powerful, this hurts to read. And the smut? Mind altering actually.

a revolting development - a Joel series by @chloeangelic

Your new step dad is really hot... and that's gonna be a problem. I've been reading so many step dad fics lately (not just Joel!) and I'm so into it and what is wrong with me?

The Rogue Who Coaxed You - a Joel series by @atticrissfinch

You're Joel's secretary and you suck him off while he fields a phone call from his wife! We love an infidelity fic round these parts, we really do. Reader is filthy, Joel is mean, there's a lot of degradation, the works. I'm so obsessed with this dynamic I can't wait to read more.

When the Gallow-Grass Gives - a Silva one shot by @gasolinerainbowpuddles

Silva rescues you (m!reader) from the gallows, walks you home by the rope you were supposed to hang by, and then tells you that you remind him of someone he used to know. I love a good gay cowboy fic and this is a GREAT one. The historically accurate lube made me cackle. This was so well written and so HOT and managed to maintain that wistful sadness Silva seems to have hanging like a cloud around him.

Desires and Complications - a Marcus Pike/Dave York series by @ezrasbirdie

Sweet little Marcus Pike wants to please you better in bed so he calls up your ex, Dave York, to show him how to be a dom. It goes a little differently than any of you imagined when Marcus turns submissive for Dave. This fic is so hot. I read up through "plead" and it looks like maybe there's some throuple dynamics forming!!! I'm so excited to finish this AHHHGHGHG

Ripping Sunrise - a frankie one shot by @idolatrybarbie

You accidentally take an edible and Frankie takes care of your high ass. And then once the high wears off he really takes care of you... This is so sweet and hot, I love it so much.

I Might Kill My Ex - a Joel one shot by @beskarandblasters

Joel leaves you for Tess and that... well that's just unacceptable. We got dark!reader, asshole!Joel, murder, dub con for Joel, the works. This fic is so good. It's dark and gives you a fascinating look into reader's crumbling psyche. I love the ending so much also

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

I wrote Ouroboros and Eat You Whole. Dave York x f!reader fics set in the same universe, canon divergent but some canon stuff still happens in the background. Love as consumption/Love as violence type thing. Basically you and Dave are two touch starved, miserable people with nothing left in this world and you have crazy sex about it. There’s some softness in there too.

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

Here's some series I've been reading (not a comprehensive list): Hot and Heavy (Joel), Muddy Waters (Joel/Ez), Stepdad!Joel, Exile (Javi P), New York or Nowhere (Joel), Feral Woman (Joel), Yearling (Joel), a lover's pinch (joel), the world tipped on it's side (Frankie), and Pretend Alleyways (Marcus/Dieter)

(In order: @tieronecrush @bonezone44 @toxicanonymity @jksprincess10 @beskarandblasters @gasolinerainbowpuddles @justagalwhowrites @hier--soir @idolatrybarbie @radiowallet)

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Happy Reading!

[sionisjaune]

Do u remember when u posted that highschool sebcedes snippet on here? Just letting u know I think about it literally every day and would cry if u ever wrote more of that….. or just more toxic girl fic in general. U r a genius

I believe this is what you’re talking about. I actually have a bit more in my gdocs although it is very much a wip. House party snippet for you:

Jenson is holding court in the kitchen, presiding over a murky punchbowl and cackling with her friends. She does swim and track, and she’s kind of a legend at school. People say things about her that Seb thinks they probably wouldn’t say if she didn’t have short, spiky hair like a boy, but no one likes her any less.

“Sebby!” Jenson shouts, cracking a huge, sparkling grin. Seb ducks into the kitchen and accepts a noogie. Mark and DC are in the kitchen playing host too, even though DC graduated last year. Seb smooths down her hair afterwards and presses her palms self-consciously to the hem of her skirt.

Jenson stirs the contents of the punchbowl with a theatrical flourish. A clump of drowned gummy bears float to the surface. “What’ll it be? Fancy a cup of my signature cocktail? DC got the recipe from Michael, way back when.”

“Sure,” says Seb. Jenson ladles her a cupfull with much enthusiasm and hands it over. Seb gives the drink a skeptical sniff.

“Come on. Drink up, Seb,” Mark says, clutching a sweating beer.

Seb swishes the drink around. She didn’t get any gummy bears. “I don’t see you having any,” she tells Mark. Sometimes Mark, Jenson and DC still treat her like someone’s little sister, probably because they’re old enough that they really knew Michael. “Cheers,” she says, and goes in for a brave swallow anyway. DC thumps her on the back.

Seb finishes her drink while Jenson, Mark and DC shoot the shit over the punchbowl, and eventually Nico swans inside the kitchen carrying a case of beer. Seb gets to see the way Jenson’s eyes light up with mischief as soon as she sees Nico.

She sticks her fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistles. “Looking good, Britney.”

“Britney?” Seb whispers to Mark.

He whispers back. “JB thinks it’s funny. It’s not that funny.” Seb snorts.

Nico’s face falls into an exasperated frown. She tosses her long hair over her shoulder and shoves the case of beer towards Jenson. “Now we’re even,” she says.

Jenson accepts the case and tucks it under her arm to put away somewhere. “Can I crack one open for you?” She winks salaciously.

Nico rolls her eyes. Mark makes an amused sound behind Seb. “You’re a slag, Jenson Button,” says Nico, with much panache.

Jenson laughs, loud and sparkly. Seb suddenly wishes she had a glitzy laugh like Jenson’s.

“And you’re no fun,” says Jenson. “Take your girl and get out of my kitchen.”

It takes Seb a moment to realize that she’s Nico’s girl, and, by that time, Nico is already rolling her eyes and dragging Seb out of the kitchen by her elbow. Mark has a vaguely amused look on his face again.

Nico drags Seb all the way through the house and out the sliding doors that open onto the patio. The backyard is strung up with lantern lights, and the party sprawls all the way towards the end of the lawn. The table on the patio boasts a stack of plastic cups and a half-dozen bowls half-filled with snacks.

“Hey, I knew them,” Seb protests when Nico drops her arm.

“No, Michael knew them,” Nico corrects. She separates a strand of hair idly and tugs on it, like Seb is particularly annoying. “It’s kind of pathetic to ride her coattails like that. I don’t know. That’s just what I think.”

Seb bites her lip. Her eyes aren’t stinging. They aren’t.

“Whatever,” says Nico. “Just stick with Lewis or something. We can drive you back if you want, but I’m not leaving until two. God.” She tugs on her hair again. “This is really lame so far.”

[hyenapuppy]

Intro post!!!

I said I'd make this soon so heres soon :3! Hi! I'm Richard or Richie or Dick or any other nickname you can think of! I'm 18 years old w bpd and autism. This is a nsft / nsfw account so minors dni! I am texan and a trans man and I'm queer! I also graduate this year and im going to college for vet tech stuff :3

I am 100% okay with asks anon or not! Feel free to be a freak(affectionate) in them or be totally normal and ask about my day! I'll appreciate both ^_^ This also goes for anon tags/sign offs!!

I will NOT do pics or dms (due to this being a side blog) do not ask for my main pleasee (for my own comfort) I can't follow anyone back but please note if you're following me I consider us mutuals!

Fair warning!! I will use tonetags emoticons and emojis!! If you wanna know some of my interests i like hyenas, sharks, DC, Marvel and more (ask please please please!)

Tags

Cackling – answering asks

Richie Yaps – general posting

[blank] anon – an anon! If i get any atleast

Paws at you – reblog!

And more to come!

Okay everything else under the cut

Stuff I'm into!

× Praise

× Petplay (specifically puppy if you couldn't tell)

× Forcemasc

× crying

× overstimulation

× Monsterfucking

× Degradation

× Breeding

× Claiming (marking collaring ect ect)

× CNC & Somno

× Religion

× Size difference

Things I'm on the fence about!

× Fauxcest

× feminization

Personal big nos

× Rape threats (CNC scenarios are fine!! Just please don't actually threaten me :( )

× Ageplay

× Scat

× Misgendering

× Calling someone daddy

That's all I can think of right now!! I may update this so keep an eye out

[paperanddice]

Ink devils are small, bony devils with quill-like fingers. They'll often style their hair and clothes to whatever a given culture's version of a scholar would be, though within Hell they'll usually be bald, and they have a pair of short horns that protrude from their forehead. Their skin color is often that of ink, usually black or a dark indigo, but ancient members of this devil class are usually as pale as parchment.

Weak and cowardly, ink devils prefer to scribe and perform accounting rather than fight. If forced into battle they rely on other devils to protect them, and will disrupt and harry opponents rather than engage directly, fleeing if necessary to protect themselves. Only when a more powerful devil demands it will one fight to the death, protesting and begging to be allowed to leave the whole time. They are much better suited as accountants, record keepers, translators, and note takers, though no mortal should trust their writing, as they will alter documents for their own amusement and in service of the goals of Hell.

Inspired by the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Pathfinder 2e

An ink devil is a 5th level challenge for encounters involving research or similar investigations.

Ink Devil Creature 2 Small, Devil, Fiend, Unholy Perception +5; greater darkvision Languages Celestial, Common, Draconic, Infernal, telepathy 100 feet Skills Acrobatics +8, Arcana +15, Crafting +15, Deception +10, Society +15, Stealth +8, Library Lore +17 Str +1, Dex +4, Con +1, Int +5, Wis -1, Cha +4 Methodical Research (concentrate) When Searching through stacks of books, an ink devil can find the answer to almost any question. This allows the devil to use Library Lore in place of other lore skills, given enough time. AC 18; Fort +5, Ref +8, Will +3; +1 status to all saves vs. magic HP 22; Immunities fire; Resistances physical 3 (except silver), poison 3; Weaknesses holy 3 Speed 25 feet Melee jaws +8 (finesse, magical, unholy), Damage 1d6+3 piercing Melee claw +8 (agile, finesse, magical, unholy), Damage 1d4+3 slashing Divine Innate Spells DC 17 ; 3rd item facade (books and scrolls only; at will); 2nd invisibility (self only); 1st detect magic (at will); Divine Rituals DC 17; diabolic pact Corrupt Scroll [3 actions] (curse, divine) The devil twists the magic inside of 4th-rank or lower magic scroll it touches. A creature that attempts to cast a spell from this scroll must attempt a DC 17 Will save. On a failure, the scroll affects the caster if it is offensive, or the nearest devil if it is a beneficial spell, ignoring the spell's usual range (or just fails if there is no devil within 1,000 feet). Devil's Mark [1 action] (curse, divine); Frequency once per round; Effect The devil flicks ink from its fingertips at a creature within 15 feet of it. The creature must attempt a DC 15 Reflex save; on a failure, the ink leaves a stain on the creature in the shape of an archdevil's personal seal (whichever one that the ink devil is subservient to). As long as the stain remains on the creature it takes a -1 status penalty to all saves vs. devils. Disrupt Concentration [1 action] (auditory) One creature within 30 feet of the devil must attempt a DC 15 Will save; on a failure, the creature must attempt a DC 10 flat save each time it uses an action with the concentrate trait during its next turn; on a failure, the action is disrupted.

13th Age

Ink Devil Weakling 3rd level spoiler [devil] Initiative: +8 Claw +8 vs. AC – 6 damage. Natural Even Hit: The devil can make a disrupting cackle attack as a free action. [Special Trigger] C: Disrupting Cackle (one nearby enemy) – The target is dazed until the end of its next turn. R: Devil’s Mark +8 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) – The target is vulnerable to attacks from devils (hard save ends, 16+). Natural 16+: The target is vulnerable to attacks from devils until its next full heal-up. Natural 20: The target is vulnerable to attacks from devils until it performs some quest or ritual to remove the curse. Free-Form Covert Ability – Corrupt Scroll: The ink devil can change the writing on any document or book it gets its hands on. Detecting the forgery requires a ridiculously hard skill check (DC 25). An ink devil that gets into a library or other large repository can cause untold amounts of information damage. Resist Fire 13+. Weakling: When building battles using this monster, it only counts as half a normal answer. AC 17 PD 16 MD 16 HP 30

[themaresnest-dumblr]

Since It’s Coming Up To Halloween, A Good Time To Repost And Update This - Your Handy Goth-U-Like Reference Sheet!

Readers! Have you ever been stuck with trying to think of a Goth band your Gothophobic friends might like and thus give a chance at Halloween?

Here’s your handy cross-reference sheet courtesy of your super soaraway Mare’s Nest!

The Cure: People who still watch ‘Bagpuss’, play the American McGee’s ‘Alice’ series, think Tim Burton is the greatest animator of all time, 99.99999% of all Cosplayers, and people who like eating toast.

Sisters Of Mercy: Politics undergraduates, Guardian readers, people who when they get drunk will defend General Woundwort in Watership Down as a ‘misunderstood victim of events’, people who deny being Goth dusk till dawn.

The Mission: Harry Potter/Worst Witch/Doctor Who fans and weekend pagans who like cosplay. A lot. Those who think The Hobbit movies were better than the Lord Of The Rings ones even if they were less canon, and Captain Campion was a better Chief Rabbit of Efrafa than General Woundwort anyway ...

All About Eve: Fans of My Little Pony, The Chalet School/Mallory Towers/St Claire’s, essential oil baths with scented candles, and buying Amazon rainforest sized amounts of quaint writing paper which they never get around to using.

Die Laughing: See All About Eve and The Mission.

The Cult: people who like heavy metal but could do without the whole Dungeons And Dragons or pretending to be teutonic knights vibes. Also people who like tassles. Lots of tassles.

Merry Thoughts: Sisters of Mercy and Cult fans into Pokemon.

Fields of The Nephilim: ‘Sandman’ comic book fans, people who binge watch ‘Stranger Things’ and ‘The Chilling Adventures Of Sabrina’, theology students, Spaghetti western fans, adrift prog rockers thinking ‘oh well, suppose it will do,’ actual pagans that haven’t gone down the all-out-and-listening-to-Fairport-Convention route yet.

Killing Joke: Science and Engineering students who read a lot of old school SF but regard the fanbase as boomer stoners. Those who fancy Geordie. DC Comic fandorks who only like them because it entitled their favourite Batman story. Star Wars fans who only like them because Mark Hamill played the Joker in the tortuous ‘film’ version of said Batman story.

Bauhaus/Love And Rockets:  people who insist that all original classic horror movies in black and white are far superior to their colour remakes.

Rosetta Stone - Miserylab: people who insist all original classic horror movies in black and white are far poorer in comparison to their colour remakes - even the remakes done by Hammer Horror.

The Horatii: those who like old school New Romantic videos with yachts and marigold glove monsters.

Aurelio Voltaire: They Might Be Giants/Pinky And The Brain fans.

Marilyn Manson: David Bowie fans who wished he’d gone more hard rock.

Dronning Maud Land: Fields Of The Nephilim fans who liked the Monty Python movies and post-Python spin offs better than the TV series.

Forthcoming Fire: Retro 8-bit computing fans.

London After Midnight: rubber and silk perverts and people who still believe villains on TV/in film should talk in a silly croaky voice and cackle loudly at the end of every sentence.

Siouxsie and the Banshees: Jon Pertwee and Tom Baker era Doctor Who fans, people who like hanging around big f**k off sized museums, punks, anyone who likes the Beatles or their copycats. eg. ELO, Oasis. Also your parents and grandparents. Just keep them away from the ‘Join Hands’ album.

The Damned: Those who will defend to the death every single Addams Family reboot, no matter how ill conceived in plan or execution. People who think Captain Sensible is ‘funny’. Harry Potter fans who think Rat Scabies would have made a better dad for the Weasleys in the movies.

[homoose]

Quick Learner, Slow Lover: Part II

Summary: Literally just a 40 Year Old Virgin AU. This time, reader shows Spencer a whole new world of possibilities. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut, 18 + (minors DNI)

Warnings/Includes: oral (both receiving), fingering, I think that’s it actually

Word count: 4.3k

a/n: Huge thanks to all the babies on my sideblog @softspence for helping with the inspiration for this one, and @gubetube​ for being my beta! ♥️ virgin!Spence is near and dear to my heart.

Series Masterlist

———

After their first escapade, Spencer was called away on a case in southern California. A week into the BAU’s investigation in the desert didn’t have them any closer to solving it, and the team retreated to their respective hotel rooms for a few hours of rest. The second his head hit the pillow, Spencer’s phone was out and dialing. 

She picked up on the third ring, stifling a yawn. “Hi.”

“Hi. Sorry it’s so late,” he apologized. 

“It’s okay.” He could hear her snuggling down under the covers. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.” He brought one of the hotel pillows closer, cuddling up against it and letting out a sigh. “I was thinking we could go to that new restaurant around the corner from you when I get back to DC.”

“Mmm, yeah, that sounds nice,” she agreed. He heard her sigh a little into the phone, then she continued, “We could also, um— try some more things.”

His head was constantly full of their first night together, and he basically had not stopped thinking about more things since he’d come in his pants on the couch. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

“Good, because the possibilities are endless, Dr. Reid.”

He let his eyes close, let a smile play over his features, and let his mind relax for a second… and then his eyes were shooting open, and his brain was on overdrive, running through the pieces of the case in rapid succession. “I— I think I just figured something out. I— I have to go. I’ll— can I call you later?”

She laughed a little on the other end. “Go save some lives, Spence.”

The team stumbled off the jet less than 24 hours later, exhausted but more than satisfied with the outcome of the case— in large part thanks to Spencer’s late night epiphany. 

“O’Keefe’s for a round?” Luke asked. “First one’s on me.”

There were murmurs of agreement from everyone... except Spencer. “Sorry, guys— rain check,” he called, already halfway across the bullpen and pulling on his jacket. He was through the double doors before anyone could ask any questions. 

He loved the team, and he’d come to enjoy nights out with them, but right now he had more pressing matters to deal with. As he navigated the darkened streets of DC, he considered the predicament he’d found himself in. They were going on two months of official dating, but they’d been sort of seeing each other for nearly a month before that. 

Even before he’d met her, Penelope had gushed about her constantly— a wonderful friend that she’d made through her new job, kind and smart and funny and lovely. What Penelope hadn’t mentioned was how beautiful she was— and he’d subsequently made a fool of himself when they first met: staring and stumbling over his words. 

She hadn’t seemed to mind, and over the course of the evening, she’d proven to be every bit as lovely as Penelope had described, and then some. 

He pulled up outside her apartment, shutting the door and hauling himself and his go-bag out of the car and up the sidewalk. He ran a slightly self conscious hand over his hair, checked his appearance in the glass of the foyer door, and then buzzed her apartment. 

She buzzed him in, and he took the stairs two at a time, rounding the landing just to see her opening the door. The second he dropped his bag, he was wrapping her up in a hug and knocking the breath out of her. She expelled the air into his shoulder and then laughed as he clung to her.

“Well, hello to you, too,” she teased. 

“I missed you,” he murmured, too content to be embarrassed.

Her arms came around him, and she squeezed him tight in response. “I missed you, too.” She held onto him for a moment longer before pulling back. “You must be exhausted. Are you hungry?”

Almost as if on cue, his stomach growled loud enough for them both to hear it. She cackled at his sheepish smile. “Chinese, Indian, or pizza?”

…

An hour later, they were two slices deep and cuddled together on the couch at the end of an episode of Dr. Who. She was tucked under his arm, her warm palm low on his tummy, her thumb rubbing a slow, repetitive path. As the credits rolled, she lifted her head to smile at him. “Tired?”

“A little.” His brain couldn’t focus on anything other than the warmth of her body pressed up against him, her hand so close to where he was desperate for her. He wanted her, but he didn’t know how to ask. “We can… try some things, though,” he decided on.

She brushed his hair back and met his eyes. “We don’t have to. Just because we did, doesn’t mean we’re obligated to every time we’re together.” She tilted her head. “You know that, right?”

He could feel the flush flooding his cheeks immediately, and he dropped his gaze and cleared his throat. “Yeah, of course.” Of course she didn’t want to do anything more with him. He was probably terrible at it before, and she just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He shifted to stand from the couch, gathering up their plates and turning to bring them to the kitchen, desperate for a minute to collect himself. 

He could feel her eyes on him. “Spence?” He set the plates in the sink, taking a deep breath and then turning to see that she’d followed him. She pressed her lips together, considering him with kind eyes. “You wanna let me in on whatever it is you’re thinking?”

He hesitated, tapping his fingers on the tops of his thighs, before deciding he should just come out with it. “I know I don’t know what I’m doing when it comes to… sex.” The last part came out in a low murmur— it seemed lewd to discuss this in the middle of her kitchen. “I’m sorry it wasn’t very good for you, and I’m not exactly sure how to fix that, but—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” she chuckled. “Slow your roll. When did I ever say it wasn’t good for me?”

The memory of her— in his lap, her head thrown back, his fingers on her, his name falling from her lips— was suddenly on repeat in his mind. “I, um— I guess you didn’t.” 

“I definitely didn’t,” she confirmed, stepping a little closer. “In fact, I’ve been thinking about it… a lot.”

His eyebrows shot into his hairline. “You have?”

“Mmhmm.” She brought her hand back to his tummy, just above his waistband, then ran it up the line of buttons on his shirt, stopping just above his heart. She met his gaze with soft eyes. “I just didn’t want you to think that— that sex is all I want to do with you. Or that you have to rush to make me happy. And it’s important that you know that if you’re tired, or overwhelmed, or just not in the mood, I don’t— you know, expect you to have sex with me.” 

His heart leapt into his throat at the way she curled her fingers in his collar, the way she smiled quietly while he collected his thoughts, the way she gave him grace and space to consider his wants and needs. He was dangerously in love already, and he wasn’t sure quite how to say it without being the stupid virgin who fell in love with the first person he slept with. 

And even with all of these thoughts of content and love and uncertainty swirling through his brain… he still really wanted to fuck her. 

“I’m not that tired,” he breathed. 

Her smile turned mischievous, and he swallowed audibly. “Well, then. We can start working through those possibilities?”

He was on her before she even finished the question, his mouth hot and hungry, his tongue sliding against hers, his hands on her waist and steering her toward her bedroom. She grinned as he trailed kisses down her throat and then where her t-shirt cut low along her collarbone. She turned them as they made it to the bed and pushed him to sit, breaking his mouth away from where it had been sucking a pretty pink mark. 

She dropped to her knees and ran a firm hand over his cock through his trousers. He was wholly and completely unprepared for the sight of her looking up at him from in between his legs, and he momentarily forgot any and all plans he’d had. She paused to push her hair back out of her face, and he came to his senses. 

“Wait.” She looked up at him, slightly confused. “I wanted to, um—” 

When he didn’t continue, she tilted her head with an encouraging smile. “You wanted to what?”

“I wanted to, um— eat you out,” he said, and he could feel the flush in his ears. “Before. Because I get kind of sleepy after I come, and I— well, I can already tell I’m not gonna last long once you start, um…”

“Blowing you?” she prompted, and now she was just teasing him. 

“Y-yeah.” He ran a nervous hand down his neck. “Is that okay?”

She stood up and stepped closer into his space, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling his head back slightly. “Well, that depends. Did you read up on the literature?”

He returned her teasing smile, already more at ease. “You know I did.”

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips before stepping back to pull her shirt up over her head. She smirked at the way his eyes went wide and traveled over her form. His mouth dropped open as he tracked her hands, running down over her bare chest, her torso, and then to the waistband of her sweatpants. She pushed the pants down over her hips and let them pool at her feet, stepping out and back in between his legs. “So, what did the experts say?”

He swallowed audibly as she brought his hands to her chest. “Well, um,” he started, palms cupping her breasts. “Um, firstly— start slow. And vary— vary your attention,” he said, squeezing them lightly and brushing his thumbs over her hardened nipples. 

He looked up at her face for guidance, and she smiled. “Then by all means— give me all the attention.”

He leaned forward immediately, tongue and teeth sucking and grazing and nipping at the soft skin of her breasts. He alternated between the two, drew each nipple into his mouth and moaned a little around them at the way she gasped when his teeth dragged on her skin. Her hands found purchase in his curls, tangling and tugging and holding him against her. He brought a hand down to her waist and pulled her in closer, slid his palm over her lace-covered ass and dug his fingers in, eliciting a very pretty sound from her throat. 

He pressed his mouth once more to the valley in between her breasts, then stood and brought his hands to her face, leaning down to meet her in a soft kiss. He turned to have her sit back on the bed, and she stretched out over the pillows and pulled him down over her. He kissed her again, and then dragged his mouth down the column of her throat. 

“Secondly,” he continued, “work your way down.” He did just that, his lips and tongue drawing out goosebumps and shivers as he moved down her body. When he reached the waistband of her underwear, he hooked his fingers into it, and she lifted her hips to allow him to pull them down her legs. 

He started a path back up her legs, kissing her ankles, her shins, her knees. He ghosted his fingers over her thigh, silently asking for permission to continue. She let her legs fall open, and he made himself comfortable in between them. The reality hit him then— that as she opened her legs, she also opened herself up to him— all the most vulnerable and precious parts of her. His breath caught in his throat as he found her gaze on him, soft and sweet and steady. 

He turned his head to kiss a path along her inner thigh, moving closer and closer to her center. He fanned his warm breath over her, and then he licked carefully around the hood of her clit, gentle at first. He flattened his tongue on either side of it, then pointed it to flick across once, twice, three times. Her hand immediately came down to tangle in his hair, and her hips twitched as he dragged his tongue flat over it. 

“I don’t really understand the phenomenon of men being unable to find the clitoris,” he remarked, and then closed his mouth around it. 

She let out a long, low moan when he sucked it between his lips, and her grip on his hair tightened. He alternated the suction with the swirl of his tongue around the hood, and she squirmed against the bed. He laid his forearm low across her hips to keep her still, and then he brought his thumb up to swipe at her entrance, and he moaned around her at the feel. 

“Shit, you’re so wet,” he breathed. He brought his thumb, slick with her arousal, up to her clit and rubbed firm circles over it. “How’s that for pressure? Too hard?”

“N-no, oh— Spence, oh my god,” she whined.

“Do you prefer to rub side to side or in a circle?” He demonstrated each option, and she choked out his name again. 

She drew in a shaky inhale, exhaled out, “Both, both, both.” 

He sucked an open mouthed kiss to her inner thigh, then looked up to see her staring at him. “Do you like penetration? Or just clitoral stimulation?” he asked, stroking his thumb side to side over her clit. 

She huffed out a breath. “You— god, you can finger me.”

He popped his index finger into his mouth, slicking it with spit and thinking of everything he’d read about it. He teased the pad of his finger around her slit, gathering up the wetness that had spilled out of her. “I’ll start with one? Make sure it’s slicked up, and then you can tell me if you’d like me to add another?” 

She hummed in agreement, and he began to press inside of her. She took his finger easily, and he dropped his forehead to her thigh. “God, you’re— you’re so tight.” He withdrew his finger and then slipped it back in, groaning at the slickness. “Can you, um— can you tell me if this is— is this doing anything for you?” He probed gently, searching for the spot inside her that he knew might actually be difficult to find. 

“Um— up, up,” she gasped. “Like, curl it up toward the ceiling and then sort of dra-a-a-g, oh, oh, oh.”

He followed her directions, curling his finger up and dragging it on the out stroke, and she was throwing her head back with a moan of his name. He repeated the motion over and over and then brought his mouth back to her clit. Both her hands came down to yank at his hair, and he groaned, causing her hips to jerk against his mouth. 

“M-more, Spence, more, so close,” she whined. 

When he withdrew his finger, he slipped a second one in beside it and then continued the curl-drag-thrust pattern while sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit. Her moans increased in frequency and volume, and he felt her squeeze impossibly tight around his fingers. He rutted into the bed as her grip on his hair held him still against her clit as she came. 

She let out a final gasp of his name, and then she relaxed around him and her grip on his hair went slack. He slipped his fingers out of her, stared at them in relative awe as they glistened with her come. He sucked them into his mouth to clean them off, relatively surprised by how much he enjoyed the taste. He leaned forward and dragged his tongue over her, cleaning her up and savoring the way she lingered in his mouth. 

“Shit, Spence,” she mumbled, grasping at his shoulder. “C’mere.”

He lifted his head and wiped his forearm across his chin. He watched her eyes go a little wide, and then she was dragging him up her body and crashing their mouths together. “You are so fucking hot,” she whispered. “I cannot believe you’ve never done that before. Such a good listener, baby.”

His hips canted forward desperately at the praise, and she sighed happily against his mouth. “Wanna blow you.” 

She pushed gently at his chest and he sat back to let her up. She slid off the bed and tugged on his hand to move him to sit with his legs off the side. “Can we take some things off?” she asked, gesturing to his fully clothed form. 

He nodded, and she popped the button on his trousers while he started on the button up. They made quick work of both, and she dragged his pants and underwear down in one motion. He shrugged out of his shirt and she took a step back to take him in. 

“You’re so pretty, Spence.” She dragged her finger up from his knee, over his thigh, the trail of hair on his tummy, his chest, his throat— her eyes tracking the motion. He watched her face as she did so, the way her pupils dilated with lust and her tongue came out to wet her lips. She finally settled on his face, smiling and leaning forward to press her lips to his. 

When she broke the kiss, she brought both hands up to cradle his face. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. If anything doesn’t feel good, just say so. You can put your hands on my head, pull my hair, whatever you like. If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he rasped. 

She kissed him again, and then dropped to her knees and took him in hand. The vision of her— naked, post-orgasm, looking up at him with his cock poised at her mouth— was so absolutely and gloriously filthy that he almost came on the spot. 

“You’re so big, Spence.” The wonderment seeped into her voice, and he couldn’t help but swell a little with pride. Her warm palm stroked over him, root to tip, and he fisted his hands in the duvet. “What was step one again?” she asked. 

“Um. S-start slow,” he recalled. 

She hummed in agreement, and then trailed the fingers of her free hand over the inside of his thigh. She turned her mouth to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to the other, slowly inching up closer to where she held him in her hand. 

“Your skin is soft,” she murmured. Her nose brushing against the crease of this thigh. She switched sides, moved his cock into her other hand to trail her fingers over where her mouth had been. She sucked a mark into his thigh and then dragged her tongue over it, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. 

And then she shifted back to the center, flattened her tongue, and ran it up the vein on the underside of his cock. “Oh my god,” he whispered. 

She huffed out a laugh and the way her warm breath cooled the trail of spit she’d left had him shivering. “God, this is gonna be so fun,” she murmured. 

She held his cock up straight with one hand and repeated the motion of her tongue twice more, and then pressed a kiss to the tip. She held her tongue out flat and rubbed it along the underside of the head, running it along the divide between the tip and the shaft. And then she closed her mouth around the head and swirled her tongue around it, and his eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Fuck, Y/N.” His knuckles turned white as he gripped the sheets, and then he felt her free hand tug at his fist. He opened his eyes as she guided his fingers into her hair. She locked eyes with him and then sucked gently on the tip of his cock. He fisted his hand and tugged, and she closed her eyes and moaned around him. 

The vibration of her voice had his hips thrusting forward a little into her mouth, and she pulled back with a grin. He couldn’t even form the words to apologize before she was licking down his shaft and murmuring, “Mm, and vary the attention, right?”

With that, she laved her tongue over his balls, slicking them up with her spit. He realized he’d been holding his breath, sucking in a gasp as she sucked one of them into her mouth. She hummed around it and then let it out with a soft pop, moving to draw the other one in. He hadn’t even considered that he would enjoy having his balls in her mouth, but now that they were there he knew he’d literally never stop thinking about it. 

She pulled back to take a breath, bringing a hand up to cup and massage his balls and stroke over his length at the same time. “Step two?” she prompted, looking up at him from in between his legs. 

“Work your way down,” he reminded her, petting over her hair in awe. 

“Ah, yes.” She brought her mouth back to the tip, sticking out her tongue and rubbing it along the sensitive spot just under the head. She kept her mouth open and held him in hand, alternating between wet kisses and swirling her tongue. And then she sucked it into her mouth, still moving her tongue back and forth as she started to sink further down his length. 

In his mind, he was singing her praises from the metaphorical rooftops, but in reality, her mouth was so hot and wet that all he could do was stare stupidly at the way his cock disappeared between her lips. She continued to massage his slick balls in her free hand as she took him in, inch by inch. Each time she pulled back to suckle the head, she stroked the circle of her other hand over the spit-covered length of him. 

On the next pass down, he felt the head of his cock press into the back of her throat, and his hands shot to her hair, holding tight. “Holy shit, Y/N, I—” he choked on the rest of the sentence as she took him an inch further, then simultaneously sucked and pulled back to the tip.

She tapped the tip of his cock to her spit-slick smile, kissing it teasingly. “Do you wanna tell me what to do?”

“M-more of that,” he begged, watching as she dragged her lips down the side of his cock. 

She chuckled, and the way it buzzed against the side of his cock had him short of breath. “Yeah— I thought you’d like that.” She pumped his length with her hand and then held her tongue out flat, bobbing her head until he hit the back of her throat. 

When she pulled back, he watched a trail of spit drip down her chin, and felt his cock twitch at the idea of her quite literally drooling over him. He barely resisted the urge to pinch his thigh, not willing to wake himself up if this was actually a dream. He brought a hand to her chin and used his thumb to gather the spit, and then brought it up to suck it into his mouth. 

Her mouth dropped open as she watched him swallow, and he briefly began to panic, but then she was surging upward to slot her mouth over his in a hot kiss. “How is everything you do so fucking hot?” she murmured against his lips. 

“I could say the same for you,” he countered, kissing her again. 

“I want you to come in my mouth, okay?” she asked. 

He nodded vigorously. “Shit, yeah, yeah.”

“Don’t hold back,” she demanded, and then she was dropping back down to take him in again. 

She left her mouth open, tongue laid flat, and took him into her throat— once, twice, three times. She choked around him and then pulled back to take a breath. She repeated this pattern again, and again, occasionally sucking on the head or even grazing her teeth just so. Spencer held her head between his hands, staring down at her with reverence. He couldn’t stop the litany of praise falling from his lips— mostly just gasps and moans of her name, but occasionally he found the mental capacity for so beautiful, or perfect mouth, or so good, baby. 

He could feel his orgasm drawing closer with every press into her throat, so incredibly tight that it was dizzying. She pulled all the way off to jerk his cock, a tight circle of her fingers gliding along his length with a squelching sound. She squeezed the base of him, dropped her hand to tug at his balls, and sunk her mouth down his length, holding him in her throat and swallowing, moaning low and long around him. 

She looked up at him then, and it was that which finally brought him over the edge— not that she was on her knees with his cock in her throat, but that she didn’t look away as he came undone. The fact that she was paying such close attention to him coupled with the trust and vulnerability required for this moment was too much to handle. His orgasm hit him like a train, his toes curling and fingers twitching in her hair as he came. She continued swallowing around him, and he fought to keep his eyes open, not willing to miss a single second of this moment. 

When he was finished, she slowly drew back, sucking gently along his softening length and pressing a kiss to the head. He did close his eyes then, cradling her head in his hands and rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks. She used his thighs as leverage to pull herself up, and he heard her suck in a sharp breath. His eyes shot open to see her rubbing at her knees— red and a little raw. 

“I’m sorry, I should have— I could have gotten you a pillow.” He pulled her closer and replaced her hands with his own, soothing the marks. 

She laughed and brushed a reassuring hand over his hair. “Occupational hazard.”

The scratchy rasp of her voice had his cock twitching. “I know I don’t have anything to compare it to, but you’re unbelievably good at that.”

She brought her hands to his face, tilting it up to meet his eyes. “You’re not the only one who reads the literature.” 

Her even tone and steady gaze proved she wasn’t teasing or mocking, and he fell just a little bit deeper in love. He met her halfway in a kiss that was infinitely and luminously sweet and wondered just what in the world he was going to do about that.

———

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Broken tags: @radtwinkie

[fruitcoops]

Have you ever seen where they get kids to ask the players tough questions and there all dress up and have fake beards and stuff. Maybe you could do that with Jules and Katie asking the team all these really hard questions?????

Thank you for giving me an excuse to spend an hour and a half watching adorable kids ask questions and melt the hearts of celebrities. You’re my hero. There are no fake beards here, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Sweater Weather characters belong to the incredible @lumosinlove!

“These chairs are so small,” James said as he scooted closer to the table. He nearly knocked Talker over with his elbow as the four of them squeezed in; the two kids on the other side shared a look.

“Ready, everyone?” Dorcas asked. When she received six thumbs up, she turned to the camera with a cheerful smile. “Hello, Lions fans, and welcome to Lion Pride! We have a couple of very special guests today to do the introductions.”

“Hello! I’m Katie and I’m six!” She held up six fingers and all four hockey players melted a little bit.

“I’m Julian, and I’m ten.” He waved, a little shy.

Dorcas smiled. “And how are you two related to our favorite Lions?”

Katie lit up and pointed behind the camera. “That’s my dad!”

There was a chuckle in the background. “Can you tell them my name, mon chou?”

“Pascal Dumais, but everyone calls you Dumo.” She swung her legs and her tulle skirt fluffed out.

“Remus Lupin is my older brother,” Jules said with a grin. “But Finn thought he was my dad.”

“It was an honest mistake!” Finn protested around a laugh. “Cut me some slack, Little Loops!”

“Do you want to do the intros for the guys, too?” Dorcas asked. Katie tugged on Jules’ sleeve.

“Can I go first?” she whispered. When he nodded, she hopped out of her chair and ran to the other side of the table, tapping each player on the shoulder. “This is Pots, Talker, Harzy, and Sirius.”

“Aw, man, I didn’t get to do any of them,” Jules pouted.

“You can ask the first question,” Dorcas said, hiding her smile behind her clipboard. “A quick reminder for our Lions: if you refuse to answer any of these, it means you hate children. Take it away, Jules!”

“Okay.” He cleared his throat and looked across the table with a solemn expression. “How many sticks have each of you broken?”

“Oh, that’s a tough one,” James mused. “A lot, but not always on purpose.”

“I haven’t broken that many,” Talker said. “I’ve forgotten to return quite a few to the rink after games, though. I think I have about five in my trunk that I keep meaning to put back.”

“Maybe…ten? Fifteen?” Finn rested his chin on his hand. “I should start a tally board.”

“Too many,” Sirius laughed. “I need to be more careful.”

Katie wiggled in her seat as she picked up the question card. “Why do you swear so much?”

Matching expressions of shock painted all four players’ faces. “Have we sworn in front of you?” Finn asked in a small voice.

“Yeah.”

“Mon dieu, I’m the worst person on earth,” Sirius murmured as Talker leaned his forehead on the table.

James opened and closed his mouth a couple times before answering. “Uh. Well. I don’t know, Katie. Instead of answering, I’m going to take this time to personally apologize to you and your dad, who is laughing his a—his rear end off in the back, as well as promising to form better habits.”

“If you could be any superhero, who would it be?” Jules asked, seemingly unfazed by the previous question. Wordlessly, Sirius gestured to his Captain America t-shirt.

“Spiderman,” Finn said without hesitation. “He’s the coolest.”

James unzipped his jacket to reveal a Superman shirt. “We didn’t coordinate this,” he said, tilting his head toward Sirius. “But yeah, Superman’s the best.”

Talker thought for a moment. “I really like Hawkeye. Are we talking Marvel or DC here?”

“Anything.”

“Anything? Hmm. I’m going to go with the Flash, then.”

“Nice.” Jules reached over to give him a high-five.

“I got Jules’ approval, everyone else can go home.”

“What’s your greatest fear?” Katie asked, still swinging her legs.

The table went silent. Sirius turned to Dorcas. “Is this the plan? Get us rolling with fun stuff and then give the hard ones to the five-year-old in a princess dress?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Cool. Well, munchkin, I don’t like bugs and I’m not a huge fan of the dark.”

“Vegetables,” Finn said sagely, which sent both kids into a fit of giggles and made all the adults break into sunny smiles. “God, you guys are cute.”

“Pomeranians freak me out,” Talker answered once they had calmed down a bit. “They have those tiny little eyes and sharp teeth.”

James shrugged. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

“I thought you wanted to be Superman?” Jules frowned. “He flies all the time.”

“I think I’d be less afraid of heights if I knew I could fly.”

“So you’re afraid of falling, not heights.”

James looked to the camera. “And now I’m getting psychoanalyzed by a ten-year-old. Uh, yeah buddy, I guess so.”

“Hmm.” Jules looked back to the question card. “Who would win in a fight, you or our moms?”

“Your moms,” Talker said immediately as the others nodded. “No contest.”

“How would we even get in that situation?” Sirius asked. “What the did we do to make the nicest women in the world that mad?”

“Stole brownies,” Katie said with great gravity for one so young. “Mom says you four are the worst about it.”

“Mom wouldn’t even have to fight you.” Jules cocked his head to the side. “I feel like she could just give you a disappointed look and that would be enough. Katie, your turn.”

“Yay!” She brightened again. “What is your favorite cereal?”

Sirius smiled. “Fruit Loops.”

“Cheerios,” Talker said. “They’re good for you physically and emotionally.”

“I’m with Talkie on this one,” James agreed.

Finn gave them all disappointed looks. “You’re so old. Mine’s Lucky Charms.”

“Okay, Leprechaun Boy,” James snorted. Finn reached over and smacked the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Do you ever play hockey at home?” Jules asked. “I feel like Sirius doesn’t have to answer this one since it’s so obvious.”

Finn laughed. “Does tapping a puck around on the carpet with brooms counts?”

“Yeah, that counts.”

“Then yeah, sometimes.”

“I have no space in my apartment to play hockey,” Talker said. “Though I plan on moving someday and then the answer will be yes.”

“I made a rink in my backyard.” James smiled slightly. “Lily likes to skate sometimes while I run drills.”

“My turn, my turn!” Katie scooted her chair closer. “Okay. Out of everyone on the team, what two people would you take with you on a dessert island?”

“Desert,” Jules corrected quietly.

“Desert island. Are there deserts on islands?”

“I think they mean like super sandy beaches with no people on them.”

“Oooooohhh.”

James mouthed a thank you to Dorcas, who gave him a thumbs-up in return. The other three looked at the kids with unbearable softness. “Well, I’d feel awful if I took your dad with me, so I think I’m going to go with Finn and maybe Kasey. We’d have a blast.”

“Nice, dude.” Finn fist-bumped him. “Unfortunately for you, my choices are going to be Leo and Logan, since I already know we could live together without starting a war on the third day.”

Sirius thought for a second. “I think Nado would actually be able to survive on a desert island, so I’ll bring him along, and for the second one…maybe Kasey? Yeah, Kasey’s cool.”

In the ensuing silence, Jules gave him a significant look. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?”

“You’re not on the t—” The realization hit him like a truck; his eyes went wide and he slumped in his seat as the others burst out laughing. “Oh no. Oh, no, no, no.”

“Your own fiancé.”

“Please don’t tell him.”

“He’s gonna laugh so hard,” Jules cackled, leaning back in his chair. Even the camera crew was losing it in the background. Dorcas had to step out of frame. “You’re never going to live it down.”

“Well, the first person I would bring with me is Remus Lupin, because he’s read a lot of books and definitely knows how to survive on a desert island,” Talker said around his snickering. “And then I’d bring Cap, because God knows that would get entertaining after Loops finds out about this. The sarcasm would be off the charts.”

“Okay, next question.” Dorcas came back into view, still grinning. “Jules, go for it.”

“Can I ask Katie’s question again so Sirius can give a better answer?” he asked gleefully. Dorcas hesitated, then shook her head. “Bummer. What was cool when you were young that isn’t cool now?”

“When?” Finn looked scandalized. “I’m 24!”

“Yeah, and?”

“Ugh. Um, maybe Furbies? People were really into Furbies when I was in high school, though I can’t say I’m sorry to see them go out of style.”

James bit his lip in thought. “Tamagotchis.”

“I loved those things!” Talker said excitedly. “My sisters and I used to go nuts with those things!”

Sirius smiled. “Lite Brites.”

Finn’s eyes went wide. “I forgot about those!”

“Regulus and I each had one and we loved them. That was the only thing we agreed on and we used to sit—” He paused for a second to laugh. “—we used to sit in the middle of the ice rink in the backyard, still in our skates and everything, and do Lite Brites for literal hours.”

“That’s so cute, oh my god.” Talker shook his head. “What a nostalgia trip.”

Katie knelt on her seat and rested her arms on the table. “Who skates faster, you or me?”

“You,” all four answered in unison.

Jules rolled his eyes, but he was clearly hiding a smile. “How many push ups can you do?”

“How many can you do?” James countered. A flash of competition lit on Jules’ face and all the guys grinned. “Uh-oh, there’s the Lupin glare.”

“How about we have a little competition?” Dorcas suggested. “See how many everyone can do in thirty seconds?”

“Absolutely,” Finn said. The four of them had a little bit of trouble getting their knees out from under the kid-sized table, but eventually they succeeded and gathered in the middle of the room. “Katie, are you joining us?”

She smiled innocently. “No, I know I’d win.”

“Get ready.” Dorcas pulled her phone out as they knelt. “On your marks, get set, go!”

The guys went easy on Jules from the outset, but they made it look like those pushups were the hardest exercise they had ever done in their lives. Talker took a second to dramatically wipe his forehead and James’ wheezing was almost comical; Jules, however, was giving it his best shot. When the timer finally went off, Finn collapsed with a groan. “I forfeit.”

“Did I win?” Jules panted, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You did, congratulations!” Dorcas put her timer away and winked at the camera as they headed back to the table. “Great job, everyone. Katie, your turn.”

“Do you live in a mansion?”

“I live in an apartment,” Finn said.

“Same.”

Sirius shook his head. “My house might be big, but it’s not a mansion.”

“Does a two-story house count as a mansion?” James asked. “No? Then no, I don’t.”

“Who is your least favorite person on the team and why?” Jules turned to Sirius with raised eyebrows. “Are we going to have another desert island problem?”

Sirius threw his hands in the air, speechless, as the other three cracked up. “Jules, can I adopt you?” James begged around his laughter. “Please?”

“You’ll have to fight my mom for that, I think.”

“My least favorite person on the team is James Potter,” Sirius sighed. “Not the person I’m getting married to.”

“We could get married. Lily might mind, though.”

“Full offense, but I know way too much about you to ever consider that.”

James ruffled his hair and turned back to the kids. “My least favorite person on the team is Remus Lupin, because he ran me over in practice the other day.”

Finn side-eyed him. “Didn’t you trip him after he stole the puck from you?”

“He ran me over.”

“Sure, Pots. Um, my least favorite is Kasey Winter. He threw ice at me while we were in the ice baths.”

“Logan took my Gatorade last week and hid it all over the rink,” Talker said. “I’ll never forgive him for such a crime.”

“Oh, I like this one!” Katie exclaimed as she looked at her card. “What’s the best birthday party you’ve ever had?”

“My tenth birthday was at Red Robin and I got a Power Ranger outfit.” Talker grinned. “I was the coolest kid on the block.”

“My eighteenth birthday was pretty fun,” Finn said. “There was a bouncy house and Alex almost broke it because we were jumping too hard.”

“Does it have to be my birthday?” James asked. “Because my son’s first birthday party was awesome.”

“Why?”

“He threw cake in Sirius’ face and a food fight broke out in the backyard.”

“That was a pretty great day,” Sirius agreed. “My last birthday party was my favorite.”

“You spent the night with us!” Katie said happily.

“I did, yeah,” he laughed. “And I had a really good time.”

Jules perked up when he read the next question. “I love this one! Do you have a lucky pair of underwear?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, totally.”

“Of course I do.”

“Is there a superstition I don’t have?”

Jules looked especially pleased with those answers as Katie picked up her card. “This is the last one,” she warned. “And it’s super important and super hard. What kind of dog would you be and why? You can take your time, I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Katie, we’ll need it,” Talker said as he desperately tried to contain his smile. “I’ll go first, if nobody minds. I would be a border collie because one, I love them; two, they have a lot of energy; and three, they love making friends.”

“That’s a good one,” she said seriously. “They’re also very soft.”

“Yes, they are.”

Once Finn managed to suppress his quiet laughter, he raised his hand. “Can I go next?” Katie nodded. “I’d be an Irish setter. They have red hair and they’re really affectionate. Plus, I met one the other day at the park and haven’t stopped thinking about him.”

“This was a tough question, Katie, but I think I’m going to go with a golden retriever,” James said after a moment. “They’re good family dogs and they like to be on the ice with those big ol’ paws.”

“That’s what I was going to say!” She beamed at him. “Sirius, you don’t have to go. I already know what you’d be.”

He raised his eyebrows, looking highly amused. “Do you now? Can everyone else know, too?”

“Well, it’s obvious,” she said. “You’d be Hattie. She looks just like you and she gives the best hugs.”

A small puff of air left Sirius’ lungs and he blinked as James reached over and patted his shoulder. “Oh. Okay.”

“That wraps us up,” Dorcas said, looking between them with a soft smile. “Any closing statements from our guest stars?”

“Ready?” Jules muttered to Katie, who nodded rapidly. “On three. One, two, three!”

“Go Lions!” they shouted in unison with matching grins. The camera crew cheered and the players applauded, all laughing.

“Thank you for tuning in, everyone! Remember to like and subscribe for more content.”

[multi-esme]

After the embarrassing encounter Talia al Ghul had witnessed at the Kang Manor, she had gone off to look for help.

Just not any regular help, but deadly help from a few familiar faces.

Pushing her way through to the wolf's den, she finds a burly man with a mask attached to his face along with two other men.

"Gentlemen," She says with a curt nod, The Arkham knight already annoyed with her presence.

"What the fuck do you want?" He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Talia only smiled sinister, a cruel idea brewing in her head. "I want them to forget each other." She says as Bane cackled from his seat, slamming his arm down on the table.

"Oh my love, you really are stupid for that bat. Have you seen how in love they are?"

Talia scowled to him, the father of her child that she had made Daniel believe was actually his.

"We have been working on something new to neutralize them all. We'll see if it works." Pierce says as he walked over with a few of his men, the Reevers.

✿ smol special tags: @kavengers-assemble 《 xiaojun ♡ & top ♡ 》 | @dc-heroes-cb 《 daniel ♡》 | @darkmoonsiblings 《 bin ♡ 》 | @uridealbf-cb 《 ☆ 》 | @yanderegroup 《 nana 》 | @storybook-nct 《 mark + jaehyun ♡ 》 | @ateezmystery 《 hwa 》 | @madmanwoodam | @clubwnderland 《 jeno ♡ & miss irene ♡ 》 | @disney-cafe-nct 《 jeno ♡ 》 | @badbf-cb 《 chanyeol ♡ 》 | @darkfantsy-dream | @life-of-rae | @the-hellhounds 《 kai ♡ & mark ♡》 | @blackpink-cb | @urbtsboys | @sirensoc | @dreampodcast

[criminalmindswhore]

I get it pt. 2

Part 2 of I get it. Apologies for the delay, I’ve been busy with school and college applications. 

Stepping into the pre sinc this morning, something felt wrong. You had a sinking feeling in your stomach and your skin crawled. You’re assistant met you at your office door and had a look on her face that said it all. “Another one?” She nodded slowly.  A loud groan was heard from across the station. Plopping down at your desk you sighed, “Let me see the file.” She handed it to you and immediately recognized the markings. An unsolved case from 2015 at the BAU. “I’m calling the BAU, this is their case.”

“Prentiss.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and spoke, “Hey.” Prentiss’ eyes flew open. “Y/n?” The pit in your stomach grew. “Hey Emily, we need help. Remember the case from 2015 where the unsub would carve a cross with an eye onto the stomachs?” You shoved down your undying love for Emily as you switched into professional mode. She heard the switch in tone and her heart ached. She missed hearing your voice, not your work voice but your real voice. “Uh- yeah, why is he in your area?” Her voice was shaky and full of fear. “Yeah he’s gotten 2 now, I waited till it was serial.” The tension was high, a mix of anger, and unrequited love. Words left unsaid, “Y/n I-“ “No, don’t. You’ve had 2 years to call me, text me, write me and I got nothing. No apology nothing. Now, I’ve moved on, I’m sure you and Jay are fine. I want this case to be professional, it’s my first serial case as captain.” Emily was dumbfounded by the hiss in your voice. “I- I uh complain agree, also um, JJ and I broke up shortly after you left.” Your heart rate sped up. “She could tell I wasn’t in it 100% so she broke it off. She wasn’t angry or anything, she understood once I explained it to her and I wish you would let me do the same.” Your heart sank due to the pain and crack in her voice. You did that to her, “We’ll talk when you get here, wheels up.” She smiled at the last two words. “Wheels up.”

“Hey guys I’m Officer Carter, Captain is in her office,” A young man greeted the agents at the doors, “she’ll join y’all soon. We have you set up in here.” He pointed to a small conference with glass walls. With a small nod and quick introductions the team started to work, Spencer pulled out a stack of files from his bag, “What are those?” Carter obviously wasn’t aware of the BAU’s previous case. “We actually had this case a couple of years ago, it went cold until now.” Spender awkwardly nodded as he explained. “Oh.” Carter nodded slowly, “Uh I’m gonna find Cap.” He left silently.

“Okay so, Reid work on geological profile, Rossi and JJ go talk to the victim’s family, Alvez and Lewis go see the ME. Matt and I will start looking through the crime scene photos for any change in signature.” Emily gave orders, “ME is downstairs first door on the left.” You announced as you leaned against the door, a large smile on your face. It warmed your heart to see all of them again. “Y/n!” Reid practically screamed as he launched himself at you. You wrapped your arms around him and breathed in his scent. He has always smelled like pine and old books. Cologne always made his skin break out. When he finally pulled away similar moments were had with the rest of the team before Emily interjected, “We need to get to work guys.” She seemed happy and upset at the same time. Reid sat at the table and you stepped towards Em, “What are thinking so far?”

A few hours later, the team was on to something and Alvez and Reid went to check out a lead. You popped your head in the conference just to get an update before you heading to get a cup of coffee. The small break room looked a lot better than you first got there but you couldn’t help but make a mental list of things that need work every time you went in there. “This couch has Y/L/N all over it.” You looked at Emily who had apparently followed you. “Yeah, it’s-” “Oh my God! This is the couch from your place in DC.” She ran her hand on the armrest and the same memory flew into both your minds.

The snow was only falling harder as you sat and watched a bad Christmas movie. A knock on the door startled you. Slipping your slippers on you padded to the door, surprised when Emily was there. “Hey, can I uh, come in?” You nodded and moved out of her way. She walked in and sat on the couch, her coat lying on the coffee table. “What’s up?” You sat beside her noticing how the snow stuck to her hair and eyelashes. Her cheeks a rosy color. “I like you. A lot. Hotch won’t like it but-” You shut her up by smashing your lips onto her cold ones. Laying almost on top of her.

“I thought the officers deserved a nice place to relax in between calls. I swear Lousiana is, a shit show to say the least.” She chuckled and sat down, you following suit. “Y/n, I am so truly sorry. I was so eaten up by you leaving and, I still can’t forgive myself for,” She paused tapping her bottom lip with her tongue, and took a calming breath. “For what I did to you. I was young and stupid. I thought that if I could come out with JJ, it would be easier with someone I actually loved. It makes no sense to me now or anyone else. I’m so sorry.” Tears threatened to spring from both your eyes as her phone started to ring. Secretly you were grateful for it, scared of telling her that you have missed her every day since that night at the bar. “Prentiss, okay, fall back, we’re on the way.” She shot up, “Get your guys, it’s go time” You walked out the break room announcing names, “If your name was called, get your gear and let’s roll. The BAU has the lead on this.” Walking into your office you got your own gear following the SVU’s in your patrol car.

By the time the unsub was on the bus to prison, you had made up your mind to tell Emily how you were feeling. Rossi could see your anxiety rising, ‘What’s going on in there? We got him, you can go back to drunken arguments and robberies.” You both chuckled, You leaned against a desk and sighed, “I miss the BAU. A lot. I just don’t know, everything with Emily.” Rossi took a deep breath, “Well they might need you. I’m stepping down from my position as sergeant. I’m still gonna be at the BAU.” A face of shock took over your face. “Prentiss is gonna need someone to fill my spot, and I know the team misses you.” You peered over at them packing up files and joking with each other, the mood much lighter now. “Just think about it.’ With that he went to help, Prentiss approaching you. “Can I ask you something?” She scrunched her eyebrows, “I hesitate to say yes, but yes.” She stood directly in front of you, “Did you still move into that apartment?” She slowly nodded, knowing that was leading to another question. “Is there still room for me and Ham?” Happiness flooded her veins, you were asking to come back to the BAU and be with her again. Emily couldn’t form a word so she just leaned into you and softly kissed you instead. The team and officers whooping, “Cap getting some!” You smiled and Emily flashed her famous, showstopping smile.

Two months later you and your french bulldog were moved into the apartment and you were moved into your office in the BAU. Rossi insisted that he take an office down the hall and you take his. Sitting in your desk chair you could hear JJ, Garcia, and Morgan teasing Reid. A knock at the door made you smile, “Come in.” Prentiss walked in holding a vase of flowers, “Congratulations on your own office in the FBI.” You stood up taking the flowers from her, setting them on the desk, and turning around to press a breath-taking kiss on her lips. She wrapped her arms around you waist, “What was that for?” You smiled, “I’m just happy to be back, and that JJ doesn’t hate my guts.” Emily swatted your hand, “Don’t say that, she could never, plus I think she slept with that Officer La-Mon-Goose.” You cackled, “LaMontange honey.” You felt as though the world was right again. You finally got it.

Taglist: @spencerreider​

[forlornmelody]

Ionize

Rating: E (Smut with some plot, for flavor.)

Fandom(s): DC Comics, Supergirl (tv)

Ship: Supergirl/Livewire 

Linkage: Ao3

Summary:   Kara Zor-El, under the influence of Red-Kryptonite, makes some surprising discoveries about herself, and her nemesis.

Note: Commission for @rookie009. Dude, thank you so much for commissioning me again, and again. My bank account and I are very grateful. 

----

“Whatever you’re up to, Girl Scout, I’m not interested.” Livewire takes one look at Supergirl and turns so her back faces her. One glance, and she thinks she knows everything there is to know about her. Just like everyone else. Because Kara Fucking Danvers is so predictable. She'd show her. 

“You sure about that, Leslie?”

Right on cue, Leslie whips her silvery mane, her eyes sparking with hate. “It’s Livewire, Blondie.” Who’s predictable now?

“Leslie, Leslie, Leslie.” The last one slides off Kara’s tongue like acid. “Getting bored in there, Leslie?”

Livewire’s fist slams into the glass, and it crackles with electricity. “Say that one more time.”

“And you’ll what, exactly?”

Her nemesis shakes with rage. “One day I’ll make you pay.”

Kara laughs darkly. “If you can get out of there, you mean?”

“Don’t you have a cat to rescue from a tree?” Livewire knocks her head back against the glass, and her eyes roll back like a snot-nosed teenager.

“Oh? That Cat? I threw her from a building.”

“Real funny.” 

Kara leans her arm against the glass, letting her breath fog against it. 

“You’re serious.” Livewire sits up and looks at her. Really looks at her. “Holy shitballs.”

“Supergirl?” One of “Hank’s” lackeys stops inside the doorway. 

Waving him off, Kara says, “Don’t worry about it. I got it covered.” God, how she hates the sound of her own voice. 

“Sure thing, Supergirl.”

Leslie’s still shaking her head, her mouth hanging open. “I must be dreaming.”

If she’s honest with herself, Kara’s heart is hammering against her ribcage. She traces her finger around the release button. “Are your dreams always this boring?”

Livewire rolls her eyes. “Ha. Ha. We both know they haven’t given you an access card.”

“You mean this access card?” Kara dangles it in front of Leslie’s face. If her eyes were wide before, now they’re ready to pop out of her skull. Before her mouth can even twist into a how? Kara fills in, “I punched out one of the guards.”

“You did not.”

Kara slides the card and pushes the button and the glass releases with a hiss. “Are you gonna keep arguing with me, or are you going to come with me?”

Livewire’s eyes narrow, and she drapes one arm over her legs. “Where’re we going, Girl Scout?”

Kara shrugs, turning her back and heading for the door. “It won’t be long before they realize you’re missing. Maybe the table in the interrogation room or the couch in the break room?”

Instead of walking, Leslie reverts to static, and she materializes in Kara’s path, inches from her face. “And we’re doing what in there, exactly?”

She could banter some more, but Kara’s bored and impatient. Stepping closer, she comes nose to nose with her, and the air crackles with charge. Funny, how she’s angrier than she’s ever been in her life but she’s still fucking terrified. But Kara isn’t going to let that fear decide anything for her ever again. “I know you want me.”

Leslie snorts. “Want you dead? Yeah. For a while now. What about it?”

Kara grins, circling her like a lioness and her prey. “All the jokes? Butch? Sapphic? You want up my skirt and you hate it.”

The air snaps and Leslie’s gaze pierces her like a laser. “Fuck you.”

Nodding slowly as if to a child, Kara replies, “Yeeeeah. So? Couch or table?

“I hate you.”

“Then why aren’t you running?”

Leslie’s mouth slams shut, and she rattles with rage. But it’s not a punch that slams into Kara’s face. It’s a kiss. 

Tasting Livewire’s mouth is like licking a socket. Kara’s lips tingle, and even more so her tongue. Her fingers twist into Leslie’s hair, the static making her fingertips twitch. “Damn, Girlscout. Didn’t think you had it in you.” She runs her hand down Kara’s front, the fabric of her uniform clinging to her fingertips and her palm. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Kara senses, knows, how dangerous this is, but she’s past caring. And honestly? Kara’s tired of being careful. Being safe. Fuck safety. Supergirl is the fucking Girl of Steel. She can handle it, can’t she? And that doubt lingering in her mind? Well, that’s what makes it fun. 

Kara doesn’t reply. Instead, she leaves Leslie’s mouth, kissing a trail down her neck, her lips buzzing at the contact. Leslie’s hands grip her shoulders, then the back of her neck and her head. Her fingernails graze Kara’s skin in a way she notices, but they don’t break the skin. Few things can. Maybe next time they can lace her fingers with kryptonite. If there’s a next time. Does she want a next time? 

“Y’know, mm. I pegged you for a virgin.”

Snorting, Kara runs her teeth across Leslie’s skin. “Yeah right.” Kara always has to be so careful with humans. But Leslie’s not merely human, is she? How much can she take? “You’d tell me if this hurt, right?”

Leslie pulls back, raising her nose in disgust. “You can’t hurt me.”

Kara gives her a look, then bites her neck. 

“Oh.” It’s harder than she’s done with her human partners, but still with barely any force applied. Licking her skin, Kara bites harder just a bit to the side of what will soon be a delightful little mark. The thought of leaving little marks all over her makes her thighs twitch. “Ah.” Mm. So not made of steel, but still pretty damn strong. Kara lets herself relax a little. 

Only to have Leslie drive her hand up her skirt. “How do you get this thing on and off, anyway?”

“Mm. A lot, ah. Of determinaaaaaa. Fuck.” Leslie’s probing between her legs, tracing her folds through her underwear and her goddamn tights, the static from her fingers making her jump. 

“Well, I’m determined to get them off, kay?” Leslie gets down on her knees, jerking one boot off and tossing it across the room. She looks up, scrutinizing Kara as if she’s an unanswered question, and then she takes her by the heel. Kara leans against the pedestal, quirking her head, only to watch as a tiny spark leaves Livewire’s fingertip and jumps across the bottom of her foot. 

The gasp leaves Kara’s mouth before she can stop it. Every nerve in her leg is on fire, in the best way possible, from her heel to her groin.

“You like that, Supergirl? Is that what you came here for?” Livewire chuckles. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

Wait. Leslie’s fucking the guards? “Who??” Livewire doesn’t answer, except to send another spark across her skin. Her other boot comes off, tossed to the opposite corner of the first. 

“Mm.” Leslie ducks under her skirt, peeling her tights off with her teeth. When they get past her knees, Leslie snags them with her nails, and tears them off. 

“Hey!”

Chuckling, Leslie replies. “Fair’s fair.” She tilts her neck to the side, showing off the twin hickies she left there earlier. 

The hammer of Kara’s heart has turned into a sharp thud, and she reminds herself to breathe. Sure, she’s had guys down there before. But this? Why does she feel so...naked with Livewire at her feet? 

Leslie licks up the inside of Kara’s thigh, hands splayed wide and grins just before the spark leaves her fingers. Kara’s skin twitches and jolts oh so very close to her clit. “Nng. God.” Her knees crumble, and Leslie holds her up. 

“God isn’t here, Girl Scout. Good thing, too.” Livewire whispers in her ear and her hair stands on end. “You wouldn’t want Her to see this.” Another spark hits her labia, all the better because of wetness pooling between her legs. Kara can’t even form words at how nice it feels. Being ravished by her is such sweet torture. Her nemesis bites and growls and nips at her ears and neck. Never has Kara felt so alive, and yet so close to dying from being so close but not yet. 

“Leslie…”

“Livewire,” she snaps, and does jolt between her thighs, bordering on pain. 

“Livewire,” Kara agrees. “Please.”

“Oh, so the good little girl wants it?”

“Nnn. Not so good anymore.”

“We’ll see about that.” One finger slips into her easily, and then another. “How much more can you take, huh?” And another, this one stretching her enough to make her gulp. “Do you want more?” Livewire twists and turns her, and fuck her, Kara’s humping her fingers, so close so close. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Getting there.” In goes Leslie’s pinky, and the stretch burns so good. Kara has no words, just her own drool dripping from her mouth. “Got room for one more?”

“Ah. Uh. Mm.” Kara shakes her head, then nods, and nods vigorously. “So... close.”

“Say it.”

“Fuck!”

“Close enough.” Livewire cackles, pulling her fingers out, pressing them together, and slipping them back in. “Fuck, you’re wet.” She pumps Kara with her fist, and Kara feels weak in her knees. If she holds onto Livewire, she’ll break her shoulder bones, so she grips the pedestal that holds Livewire’s cell. The concrete crumbles in her fingers as she screams in bliss. 

Kara catches her reflection, and sees her hair standing on end. Her lips swollen and bruised, still parted as they pant. Her cheeks flushed and glimmering with sweat in a way they never do, because Kara Zor El never has to exert herself on Earth. Her mascara and eye shadow smudged and streaked in such a way that won’t come off without a shower. Who is this girl in the glass, and what has she done with sweet little Kara Danvers? 

Two days ago, Kara would have laughed if someone asked if she liked girls. Oh please. Just look at me. What about this bubblegum pop girl next door makes you think I wanna get railed by a girl?? If Kara is honest with herself, which she fucking will be from now on--she’s wasted far too much time pleasing anyone but herself. 

Which is why when Leslie goes down on her, Kara doesn’t return the favor. It starts innocently enough at first. Oh, she’s just paying attention to what Leslie does so she can try the same on her later. Oh, she’ll just come one more time and then. 

Well. Kara’s been used by the DEO, by National City, by CATCO, even Cat Grant herself. Shouldn’t she get the chance to be the user? To use someone else for a change? She’s fucking earned it, hasn’t she? 

And God, Leslie is good with her tongue. She ravishes her, licks her clean, then goes down on her again, but this time with a charge. Kara can see the sparks jumping like static in the dryer, and she jumps with it, every time. 

“C’mon, Supes. At least let me catch my breath and drink some--.” Her hair flips and a water bottle appears in her hand-- “Water.”

“Hurry up. I’m almost coming again.”

“Yeah, again. Isn’t it my turn already?”

Kara’s lips twist, and she rubs her thighs together a bit needily. “Maybe I want to see you beg for it.”

Leslie smirks “Now that’s the Supergirl I know and l--” Her eyes widen, and she snaps her mouth shut. “--Loathe.” She says a little too quickly. 

“Uh huh. Forgetting something?” Kara spreads her legs, scooching to the edge of the pedestal, shivering at the hungry look in Leslie’s eyes. She’ll have to think on that revelation. Later. When she’s not having the night of her life. 

“Fine. But I get to come next time.” Kara nods, closing her eyes. Her legs squirm, nearing the edge of overstimulation, but she can’t stop--won’t stop now. “Ah. Ah.” She bites her lips, feeling the warmth of the sun without the light of it, the blissful nothing of space between stars. “Fuck,” she says, drawing blood from her own lip. 

“My turn.” Leslie stands, wobbling from having sat too long. She holds out a hand for Kara to take, and she takes it, only to hear the clatter of boots down the hall. 

“Time to go..” Kara whisks on her uniform,

“Seriously? What the actual fu--” The two of them stand in the sun of the Mojave, and Leslie has to shield her eyes.  

Kara shoots her a shit-eating grin. “Catch ya later, Livewire.” Maybe next time Kara will let her finish. Maybe she’ll let her do a lot of things.

[bluebirdwrites]

j stands for joker; batfam

warnings; language, violence, injury, non-consensual touching (nothing extreme), descriptions of death.

author’s note; so,, this is based off of Arkham knight slightly where jason gets branded by the joker. except!!! in this universe, the normal thing where jason died happened, and it’s batsis that this happens to during an unexpected situation.. if that makes sense? hopefully this isn’t too sucky :’) fem!reader too, btw (: here’s my dc masterlist in case you wanna, you know, check it out! requests the opennnn ;)

summary; with time, you hope that Joker will burn. that he will be marked by death the way that he has branded your skin.

Being held up in the bank with your brother on the way to get lunch is not how you expected the day to go. Not to mention, being Wayne kids had massive targets immediately on your backs in the case of bank robbers.

If only they knew Bruce Wayne was Batman.

“Fuck’s sake,” He drags a hand down his face, palming at his cheeks looking rather like a spoilt child with an angry pout on his face at a time like this. “Of all the times that I don’t carry my guns. This shit happens.”

You glare at him over your shoulder, making sure to thump him up the side of the head watching as the white strands mix with black, “Not the time when we’ll probably be the ones offered up as rich people bait Jason.”

It’s not the people that turn you in surprisingly enough, it turns out to be the white streak of hair that flops over your brother’s forehead that gives him away as the a Wayne boy, and in turn you as a Wayne girl.

The thugs parade around you both in a circle making sure to taunt you both, roughly shoving your brother to the floor even as he glares up with such a ferocity you know he’s itching to lose it. So, stupidly- bravely maybe, you step in, completely ignoring the glare that is now focused on you.

“Well aren’t you boys just precious? Look,” you let out a whistle and press the emergency button on your necklace that would alert the whole family. “How about you take your hands off of my brother and shove them up your ass so I don’t have to do it for you.” It is said lightly, even as Jason continues to give you a look of exasperation that says to shut up, it’s too late now.

The men laugh as the leader- seemingly a member of Jokers crew by the white clown makeup he wears- steps toward you and lifts your chin with a gun. “Listen rich-bitch, I don’t want to mess up that pretty face of yours,” the gun stays put as the man grabs your waist and brings you towards him by the hips. “That and I always like a woman with a mouth. I think I’ll take you with me sweetheart. Make everyone else leave, let’s keep the girl here for when the boss arrives.”

You can see three guys grab Jason and struggle to hold him as the guy turns you so your back is to his chest. “Everyone out,” the guy rubs the gun in circles on your temple and cocks it as you give a fuming Jason a hard look telling him to go. “Or her brains paint the wall a nice shade of red.”

Everyone leaves, and you’re sure your family will be here soon as the guy feels you up. You growl low in your throat and drive your elbow backwards as his hand grazes over your ass.

“Touchy, touchy,” the guy ties you up on a chair in the bank ripping your shirt from your torso. The gun is still pointed to your temple and your impatience grows. “The boss is here rich-bitch, and he’s going to have some fun with you.”

The clown is pasty white and scarred as always. Still wearing a purple suit and an orange plaid dress shirt. Still a psycho with green hair and an unflinching smile; this is your first time meeting him in civilian clothes.

“Well, well, well. Whatever do we have here? You wouldn’t happen to be Miss Wayne would you? My, my, my,” the Clown’s cackles bounce off of the walls as he claps his hands in glee. “Now you’re all mine, mine, mine, to do with as I please. Can’t harm that pretty face can I? I’ll have to get creative.”

He turns to the thug in the room, gun still hesitantly trained on you. The clown smiles, mouth gleaming yellow and bared as he purrs approaching his henchman holding out his hand expectant. “Such a good boy, give me the gun,” the goon is wary as he gives Joker the gun. “Time for the fun, pull my finger.”

The sound of the bullet ripping though the man’s skull is wet, spraying blood and brain matter from the impact of the bullet. The henchmen’s eyes are glazed as his body dully falls to the floor and pools with red. The clown cackles and jumps with glee, clicking his heels and shimmying around the fallen body.

Soon after, Joker brings forth a battery and generator that one would use on a car from a storage closet. He unhurriedly connects a wire to each arm and each leg and steps back chittering to himself as you wonder what in the hell is taking your family so long.

“Now pet, I’m not going to kill you! Of course not!,” his voice lowers an octave as the first circuit of electricity goes through you with the press of a button in his palm causing a loud groan to escape you and buzzing noises to fill your ears. “I’m just going to hurt you. Really, really, bad.”

A mere few minutes later, he stops the surges of electricity, seemingly frazzled as he approaches you with a metal rod and an unfaltering grin and twitching, deranged eyes. You begin to struggle, as it looks akin to that of a branding iron with its red hot end at one end of the metal.

“It seems that we’ve run out of play time dear, I’ll leave you something to remember me by until our next play-date since we’ve had so much fun together.” The clown lifts the iron poker for you to see, red hot with the letter ‘J’ held close to the side of your neck.

You’re straining in your chair as you think you can feel the buzz of your necklace on your collarbones, alerting you that they are coming. They’ll be here soon is all you can think as you try and stall.

“Go to hell you” it is said, and it is said with venom lacing your voice. It makes the clown all the more eager as he pushes the brand into the side of your neck. The pain is searing and it makes your toes curl as a scream rips through your throat as you become branded with him. His name on your body forever.

He soon stands back and claps his hands as he reheats the brand placing the mark multiple more times against your bare torso, becoming increasingly gleeful as you scream and cry. “You’re mine now girlie, got me all over you.”

The sound of glass raining from above like a hurricane is reassuring as the pain throbs and your body is searing and sizzling where his brand has been. The clown stands behind you, lifting your head by your hair. He’s leaning over your shoulder as he shows you off like a sick prize to your family in costume.

“Look at how pretty she looks all marked up,” he yanks your head to the side showing one of his brands and slides his hands up and down your torso where the rest of the brands lie. “Now she’s all mine, mine, mine. I had fun with her today, we’ll have to do it again sometime! Tell her daddy I say ‘Hi’!”

Tears are in your eyes as you look at the members of your family currently in front of you. Varying levels of anger are displayed, as they all twitch and glare looking ready to rip the clown behind you to shreds. Joker leans down to rest his head on your shoulder and wrap his arms around your neck and giggle as the lights go out and he is gone. Just like that becoming a ghost.

There is a beat of silence where your head rolls harshly to the side as you stare blankly with silent tears. There is a beat of silence as they realise that Joker is gone and of the pain that you are in and the state of your body. The beat of silence is the calm before the storm. In that beat of silence you are scared, utterly terrified. Not of the clown but of what he has done to you.

You don’t move and neither do they, too paralysed and too numb and in that moment you just want your family. The tears come faster, they come in fat salty rivets that cover your cheeks and drip off your jaw. The panic and the pain sets in next, overwhelmingly so, and it crushes you.

Your dad is there first, not as Batman but as Bruce Wayne- he must have come through the front entrance judging by the wide open door and police escort- as he reaches you, his daughter. The restraints are gone as you fall forward into him as he allows himself to run his hands through your hair and kiss the crown of your head.

“Dad,” you cling to your father and you are aware as he picks you up and wraps you in his suit jacket being careful of the brands that cover your torso. “Can we go home?”

Your brothers are in costume you realise, as they vanish in quick succession, one after the other. When you get outside, there is press and police and sirens. There are flashing cameras and yelling. The police force a barricade around yourself and your father make press leave.

The next thing you remember you’re in an ambulance and there are four people rushing towards you and your dad. Damian reaches you first, where an out of character hug happens as he leaps on you minding the bandages on your torso. He has his head resting on your shoulder and all you can think is, ‘I’m glad it was me and not anyone else.’

“I’ll kill him,” it’s said as a snarl and you know he means it. There’s no playing around with what he’s saying, with the sincerity of it. “He hurt you. Branded you, and I know you are not okay before you even say it. I was worried and I am glad that you’re okay.”

With glassy green eyes, he gently lets go of you standing slightly to the side and then Dick’s there, half picking you up and still being careful with you. But you can feel the anger bubbling in the trembling of his arms and the ticking of his jaw, the familiarity of the dangerous temper hiding under the surface. You can see the fear too, within the tears ready to drip down his cheeks and the shaky breaths he takes.

“Had us worried there pretty bird,” and he’s letting you sit back down fully and kissing your temple. “Don’t taunt the guys holding you hostage again please. Don’t take after Jason. Cass, Babs and Kate are going after Joker at the moment.”

He now stands to the side with his jaw locked talking to Damian. And Tim’s looking at you with tired, worried eyes as he takes large steps forward to hug you. He’s hugging you as tight as he can; so tight you can feel the racing and stuttering of his heart in his chest. He seems beyond relieved that you’re okay.

He’s pulling back to look you in the eye. “When I saw you before, I-,” he’s now gripping your shoulders forcing your eyes to meet the smouldering steely blue of his own, that show the distress within them. “I thought he was going to kill you y’know? I thought that- well, I’ll tell you later. Just know that I’m glad you’re safe pretty bird.”

As Tim joins your other brothers, it is only Jason with you now. You can see it in his eyes- he’s tearing himself to bits. He looks like he’s been crying, his face is puffy and his cheeks and nose are flushed pink. He strides towards you until he’s standing so close he’s towering over you wringing his hands looking like a kicked puppy.

“Why did you talk back to that thug in there? I had it under control! You were hurt by him, it should’ve been me! Why the fuck? I will kill that son of-“ he’s ranting and running his hands through his hair, mussing it up beyond belief. His eyes are blue green and darkening with his anger, and his lip is beginning to wobble the way it always does before he either explodes or is about to cry.

And you’re the one pulling him to you this time, tired arms around broad shoulders. You’re the one making him cling to you as he hugs you as tight and as tenderly as he can while his eyes water and he’s shaking like a leaf. Only when he’s ready, he’s pulling back and silently asking to look at the brand on your neck.

When he sees it, he looks green and he gags. Not because the wound is that bad, but because of what it stands for. Because of who had branded you, of the promise Joker made, of the fact you both knew Joker would be back for you.

The ‘J’ covers the entire column of the left side of your throat, it looks red and angry and painful. Jason is tentative as he runs a finger over it and you look each other in the eye. It burns. And with time, you both hope that Joker will burn too.

[strangestcase]

THANK YOU! All this stuff about turning the Joker into some deep edgy critique of the world is doing the one thing you should never do; The Joker isn't funny anymore. He's a cackling clown who commits crimes for shits and giggles all while acting like a kid at Disney Land, yet so many writers are just piling on the blood and speechifying and uber-violence to the point where his jokes are more disturbing than funny. Joker's foil to Batman is in his comedic image, so why strip all the fun away?

Yeah!

To be fair even if you make the Joker like... super evil and violent that doesn’t mean you gotta sacrifice the funny parts, or that you have to add some depth to it. Some of the best fan takes I’ve seen of the Joker are your baseline DC edgy Joker but without the weird glorification which personally is what makes him uncomfortable (in a bad way). Like I enjoy deep evil dark Jokers too but I hate how quickly people forget the point is his cynical view on life is wrong. That he’s being a douchebag and doesn’t deserve sympathy, even if he is sympathetic himself to a point. DC has totally missed the mark with that idea.

I personally prefer children’s media Jokers because they give the authors a chance at writing the Joker without all the We Live In a Society stuffing, and turn him into a character much more cool and scary than the sUpER sERiouS comics. No way they can pretend “kills people” is where his personality AND AESTHETIC (because DC often forgets he’s supposed to be a clown...) begin and end in a kid’s cartoon!

And to tie that in with my Make Riddler Batman’s Archenemy thinkpiece: 66 Riddler was legitimately scarier and eviler than 66 Joker, to the point modern jokers are based off Gorshin’s Riddler. On one hand it’s made the character more serious, which is good, but on the other hand some writers really do use it as an excuse to make him be awful for edge’s sake and not... you know, character development. 

The worst part is, the 3edgy5me take on modern Joker isn’t even that widespread! Most Jokers are very well written! Unfortunately, the character has permeated current pop culture as the Society Clown and... Well... DC has decided to make that a reality, as shitty as that is.

[iliveinaconstantstateoffire]

Alright, y'all so I know im not here a lot and there are still a lot of things I need to do (I still have moodboards buried in my laptop for quite a few states so sorry :/ to everyone thats asked for those)

Let me know what you think!

I just want to throw out a personal hc for me.

So, for Washington DC, one of my absolute favorite hcs for them is a) its alfred. Like, I hope I've made that clear in some of the text posts, but for me there is no way that our alfred (aph/hws America) is older than any of the states. He/they are in fact a child in the midst of ancient immortals, in my head. That dynamic alone is hilarious to me (both state wise and other capitals and countries). Also, tho, with being a child, DC is a gen-xer/gen-zer. Like, not age-wise, but definitely personality wise. Like this small person/being/individual was raised in a period of unprecedented technological/social/innovative evolutions from war tactics and strategies to technology and social patterns. Like, DC was born at the dawning of a new era and had to live with this dual consciousness (don't even get me started with this like this is a post all its own h~☆~o~☆~l~☆~y s~☆~h~☆~*~☆~t) of what was considered the 'norm' versus what they were growing into and what they believed. Lets also not forget that their entire childhood/adolescents was defined by having to acknowledge unprecedented exploitation and cruelty found in slavery, immigrants who weren't the ''''right'''' immigrants, the atrocious treatment and genocide of the nation's Indigenous peoples, and having to constantly live between his siblings, half of whom saw nothing wrong with any of this, while the other half saw only partial problems with the living conditions of its most vulnerable peoples. Also, the wars, battles, and constantly changing boundary lines, alliances (i wouldn't even call them friendships at this point), and the constant knowledge that your allies now could be your enemies later, would leave a helluva mark on a small individual coming to age in a period where being enlightened was a good thing, but only enlightened to a point.

Like imagine this 13/14 y/o staring up at his big sister (va), one of the states that had the largest hand in raising him and whom wash wanted to grow to be like, and trying to argue that, "if the south must rely so heavily on the exploitation of the enslaved, despite the founding principles that this nation sought to encapsulate, then maybe the south should not exist" and then being told (like that (tm)) that he was too young to fully understand the complicated web of social, economic, religious and every other possible narrative taught strands. How many gen-xers and gen-zers hear that line now? That line of, 'youre too young to understand' despite having stared down these historical evils and conscious choices their entire lives? How exhausted are they by continuously having to relive the same movements over and over again, about having to study the same movements, only to find out that the people they care about most and want to look up to the most have yet to fully learn and grasp the full consequences of ignoring their own history? Like hell if Wash is anything but a gen-z/gen-x personality trait. Imagine tho, this 17 y/o looking dumb@ss with a tiktok, filming some of the most dynamic videos like,

Wash, while filming his siblings' reactions, "i guess yall could say that on December 25, 1814, we pretty much told the Brits to 'Ghent thee hence'" and then cackling when all of his siblings let out monuments groans in perfect unison

Or Wash, being heavily sarcastic and bitingly cynical about, "how funny is it that indigenous peoples and people of color are fighting and protesting for their rights to survive and live peaceably in a nation that, in some cases, they had no wish to be a part of; while Karen and John over there are fighting for their right to not wear a mask, thereby endangering those around them. If that ain't america in a nutshell that idfk what even is"

Or even one of his siblings being like, "you know, Wash, I just don't understand you at all. One second youre saying that God hates you and the next youre saying that God created the world in 7 days and then you on the 8th so they could get you infinitely perfect. How do you bounce between the two opposite trains of thoughts?"

And Wash just being like, "its the ~☆~d~☆~e~☆~p~☆~r~☆~e~☆~s~☆~s~☆~i~☆~o~☆~n~☆~"

Also, aph/hws Washington DC and Washington state are bffs, solely based on the fact that both their names are Washington and both complain about being named after a slave owning white man every chance they get.

[eerythingisshaka]

Mr. and Mrs. Stevens

This is my submission for @hoopshoney and @purple-apricots Black Panther Anniversary/Valentines Fic Fest!  Not sure if this fic goes with the theme of the fest and if its a bit....I don’t know, however I did a thing and that’s that on that!

Warnings:  Violence, Language, Sexual Situations

Word Count: 4k

Erik Killmonger x Black!OC

Prompt: “Try not to get blood on your clothes. We have dinner reservations in half an hour.”

Her phone trills in her bra as she checks herself out in the mirror.  The shift she picked up for a friend starts in 15 minutes and she hates when he calls beforehand.

Picking up the call she answers.  “Hey Erik.”

“Wassup baby girl?  You at work?”  His voice carries extra loud in her ear and kind of scratchy.

“Yeah actually.  So why are you calling?”  She asks in annoyance while applying her lippie.

“Aww, now don’t be like that.  You -- money tonight e--?  So don’t trip!”  His voice crackles in her ear.

She takes a step back to look over herself in the mirror, pushing her braids back and turning around to check her behind.  “The only thing I’m tripping over is why you obviously aren’t using the new AirPods I got you last month?  I can hear the 10.99 drugstore quality in my ear, it’s bringing down my mood.”  A loud sniff interrupts her train of thought as she sees a brunette leaning over the rim of a sink with a rolled up dollar bill.

Erik tuts at her.  “Come on, you know I’m a traditionalist when it comes to the audio experience!  I gotta, I gotta have, you know, an immersive, like, surround sound type of thing and like, the cords help-”

She leans on the sink in front of her.  “You lost one at the gym today huh?  When I called you and you said ‘shit shit shit!’ that was you dropping my money down the drain, huh?”

“Your money?  Since when is it your money only?”  Erik asks out the side of his mouth.

A girl taps her on the arm, wiping her nostrils as she holds out the dollar bill with a line left on the sink.  She shakes her head with a polite smile.  “Since I been doing all the work here.  These long nights, planning my own appointments, working these guys for tips with only my own damn wit, when they obviously want more!”

“Pssh, aight aight, calm down.  You know I appreciate this.  It’s OUR thing though, so don’t get your butt on your back with me.  I know you nervous cuz a high roller comin in today.”  Erik says calmly.

She picks up her bag and stuffs it in a locker, slamming it closed.  “Yeah, it’s basically now or never, Erik.  If I’m not what he’s looking for, he’s moving on and then we ain’t got shit!”

Erik shushes her softly.  “Chill, trust me.  You what he’s lookin for.  Guys like him love bitches like-”

“You better be kind and rewind that for me!”  She demands.  Erik always slipping his tongue at the wrong times, ignorant self.

Erik laughs.  “I don’t mean you!  He likes ‘females’ like you.  He studies them the most, you know?  That better?”

She sighs, choosing to ignore the still derogatory term.  “Fine.  You just be here when it’s all said and done.  I need you in times like this.”

“You do, huh?  I need you too, if you wearin whatever was in that bag you packed.  Shit looked tiny, so you ain’t covering much.”

She cackles out loud, her laugh bouncing off the walls of the room.  “Shut UP!  Don’t be silly right now!”

“Ain’t nuthin silly!  WE ain’t playing, you feel me?”  Erik says authoritatively.

She kicks her heel at the ground, biting her lip.  “I might be in a mood to see my friend backstage tonight.”

“Oh, so you claiming this dick right now?  Cuz, I thought this was MY dick!  Since I put in all the work around here, getting hard, staying hard, breaking your fucking back so all you gotta do is take it and you can barely handle that-”

“Oh Erik, fuck on with that.  Buh-bye!”

“You get it now?  Be good, DeDe.”

---

Johnny Rocket’s Adult Entertainment Club has a reputation for high profile clientele and catering to every kink imaginable.  Politicians, celebrities, CEOs, and anyone with a 7 figure or more annual salary has the possibility of getting in any night, however the waiting list was 6 months back, minimum.  If your name is powerful enough, you may receive a bump for the inconvenience, but there’s no way that list would move, as people kept looking for a chance to have an extravagant night inside.

One did not have to be looking for a touch from a stranger in order to enjoy themselves there, the club scene is just as hopping with exquisite seating, expensive liquors and miscellaneous party favors for the bold.  Tonight, Johnny Rocket’s is packed wall to wall for a birthday party of the man who runs the Upper West Side of Las Papeleras, of that’s what he would call it.  Mark Foley is the embodiment of greed; a shark tank businessman with a lust for power.  His monopoly of the financial district kept his pockets running over and the local law enforcement’s lined to keep his shady dealings going at an accelerated rate.  

His dealings started off with drug trades across the southern border of the United States, renting out the time of immigrants on the promise of Visa documents and safe keeping of their families on the road to citizenship.  This was a messy business however, as many of his vulnerable employees would be caught shortly after a drop or killed for being intercepted to ensure the details of his operation remained unknown.  It wouldn’t take much to cover his trail with his buddies in DC anyway.  Even with a successful run, Foley would instruct his subordinates to drop off the grid, leaving his pushers high and dry until ICE came for them eventually.  

But he was out of that game, now it is all about real estate.  Foley knew exactly where to upstart businesses for friends and confidants that would make him the richest man in America.  

“The rundown, dangerous, and poverty stricken  neighborhoods are nestled so conveniently between downtown and the burbs.  We just need to get those low lifes sucking off the teat of our taxpayer dollars to get off some extra dough, or get the fuck outta there.”  Foley slurs his words, picking up his tumbler of 12 year old whiskey.  

One of his associates respond, shaking his head.  “Ahh, come on, Foley.  Those people have been living there for so many fucking generations!  How could you uproot them like that, changing there way of life at the drop of a hat like that?  Where’s your heart?”

Foley blinks his eyes a couple of times, staring at his acquaintance from across the room for what seemed like hours.  The flashing, multi-colored lights of the club blur his vision as the bass of A$AP Rocky pounds at their temples.  

“Really?”  Foley asks loudly over the music, frozen with his drink in his hand.

The man laughs out loud, banging the back of the couch as he leans his head back in blissful humor.  “Fuck no!  I’m just fucking with you Foley, come on!”  He boasts, picking up a bottle of whiskey, clanging it against Foley’s glass.

Foley shakes as his hoarse laugh builds in his gut.  “Ohh, man, you had me going there for a second!  You can’t joke like that with me man, you’re still on probation with me.”

The associate combs his hair out of his face, adjusting his tailored, chocolate suede jacket.  “Let me have some fun, huh?  Anyway, you know what to do.  Call up Johnson to get in touch with Hesson about his eminent domain clause on the block, and kick those sons of bitches out on the concrete.  They’ll find a way, roaches never die, you know?  They just skedaddle on to a new nest to infest.”

Foley lights up a cigar, pointing it his way.  “Exactly.  I consider this motivation to do better for themselves.  Hell, once I clean up the pigsty, they can bring their credit score and occupation info, if they have one, and make a deposit with 6 months rent to settle in to the swanky new digs I transform those rat traps from!”

A waitress comes over in a leather miniskirt and thigh high boots with a fringed crop top that rests off her shoulder.  Half of her braids are bound on top of her head, with the rest cascading down her back.  Even in the dark room and the intensity of the strobing lights, her melanin shown beautifully rich, bringing the table to her full attention.

“Can I get you gentlemen another round?”  Her voice said with a sultry timbre, leaning forward to pick up bottle and adjoining glasses.    Some of her braids fall in the face of a hypnotized Foley who reached his thick hands through them, sniffing.

“Mmm, if you mean the juice, that’s not what I need another round of, sugar.”  Foley says wagging his eyebrows.

She looks over at him, pulling her braids back and out of his hands.  “You are Mark Foley, correct?”

He nods slowly, mouth half hanging open.  “I like the way you say my name, doll.”

“My name is Sade.  Your friend here made arrangements for us to...get to know each other a little better…”  Sade bites her lip, using her almond shaped eyes to invite Foley into the possibility.

He didn’t need too much convincing as he clapped his hands looking over at his associate.  “You sly dog!  You planned this for me?”

He shrugs. “Nothing but the best, for the man who holds my old hood in his hands.”  Raising the bottle up again in solidarity, Foley springs up out of the booth, grabbing Sade by the waist.

“This EXACTLY what I need!  Let’s not delay, drop those glasses at the bar and let’s boogie!”  Foley exclaims, leading Sade along and leaving his associate with the bill.

Foley’s hands were lit up over Sade’s body, feeling her soft and firm portions of her body with no shame as she led him to the quieter, private rooms in the bottom level of the club.  A black door marked with the number 8 in gold is where Sade took them before pausing to turn around and face him, snapping her fingers to regain his sober attention.

“Once we cross this threshold, you will need to behave yourself.  I won’t ask you again, otherwise consequences will be set.”  She says calmly.

Foley looks around the hallway, rubbing his hands together before whispering.  “Whatever you say, mistress.  I am at your command.”  His Dad-bod practically vibrated with excitement as she opened the door.  As it closed with a clang, Foley peers around to inspect the various chains, harnesses, chairs with binding mechanisms that decorated the room.

“Whew, this is-”

“SHUT UP!”  Sade yelled with a crack of a whip.  Foley turned around quickly in shock.

“Sade, I wasn’t-”

“Are you speaking out of turn after an order?”  Sade snarls.  In the midst of Foley looking around the room, she has put on a black lace mask covering her face and a nine tailed whip in one hand with ropes in the other.  

Foley shakes his head excitedly.  “My apologies!”

“Turn around and get on your knees.”  Sade says walking around the perimeter of the room like a lioness tracking her prey.  Foley does as he is told, fitting the profile of sub perfectly as he avoids eye contact.

“You are a stupid, worm-grubbing quim aren’t you?”  Sade says matter of factly, playing with the nine-tails in front of him.

Foley nods aggressively.

“ANSWER ME!  Don’t you have a tongue?!” Sade demands, this time cracking the whip across Foley’s arm.  

He shrieks.  “Agh!  Yes! Yes mistress, I am!  I do!”

“Hm, we’ll see about that later...Do you have a problem with authority?”  Foley stammers, not sure how to answer.  “A man of such wealth and status must know a thing or two about breaking rules….Are you going to break mine?”

“No mistress.  I’ll listen to every word!”  

Sade puts her heel into his chest, leaning against him on her knee as she speaks in his face.  “Have you ever let a Black person tell you what to do?”

Once again, Foley is at a loss for words as Sade runs a gloved hand through his thin, short strands of hair, before bringing the palm of her hand square across his cheek with a hard SLAP.

“That ends today.  Tell me Black Lives Matter.”  Sade commands with a dig of her heel that makes him wince.

“Ahh, Bl-Black Lives Matter.”  Foley says hesitantly.

Sade takes her foot off of him before cracking the whip on him again.  “LOUDER!”

“Black Lives Matter!  Thank God, they matter!”  Foley says more enthusiastically.

Sade looks him over with disgust.  “Take off your clothes as you recite every Black person you know that has contributed to the fabric of our nation.  Go!”

Foley starts with the buttons on his jacket and an ode to Harriet Tubman, Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King Jr.  (Sade had to whip him for leaving off the Jr.)  getting down to his briefs before stuttering on names, giving up before after he said Bill Cosby, holding his hands in front of his manhood.

“It’s not cold, put your hands down!”  Sade demanded.

He does do quickly, looking embarrassed at the small protrusion he can’t seem to control.

Sade shakes her hand tutting him.  “I’m glad you’re having fun.  It’s a shame though, how little you know.  The American private school system really failed you.  However I am in a generous mood and have every  intention on catching you up to speed.  With a little help from a friend.”

On cue, the door opens and in walks his associate.  

Foley protests.  “Whoa, hey, this may have been incorrect info you got.  I’m not into THAT.”  

Sade grips his hair at the root.  “Have my boot as a snack while the adults talk.”  Stomping her foot in front of him, Foley bends down on the concrete floor to kiss and lick her shoe.

Sade sighs, wiping her brow.  “Babysitting is so hard.  What took you so long Erik?”

He unbuttons his jacket sighing.  “His fucking card wouldn’t go through upstairs.  So this muthafucka owe me his life and some change now.”  

Erik picks up Foley’s pants, ruffling through his pockets for his wallet.

“Whoa, bro, what are you doing?  You aren’t a part of this!”  Foley says.  

Sade was not pleased with this interruption, bringing her boot around to land it squarely with his chin.  The crack of the impact echoed in the room as Foley flopped on his back, writhing in pain.

“What...the….FUCK!”  He yells out, blood starting to coat his fingers.

“Damn, Sade!”  Erik exclaimed, staring at his girl.

Sade inspects her boot.  “Shit, he got a damn scuff in it, now I’m really pissed.  Tie his ass up so we can move on.”  

Erik handles Foley like a ragdoll, turning him over and using Sade’s ropes to tie his hands behind his back.

“You fucking niggers don’t know who you’re dealing with!”  Foley says through clenched teeth.  

Erik pulls him up by his arms over to a part of the wall with a collar and chain attached to it.  Turning Foley around, he hooks his neck up to the contraption.

“You really want them to be your last words, bitch ass cunt?”   Erik says, tightening the collar on the last possible notch.   “Gotta use they language to get to em sometimes.”  Erik says to Sade.

Foley laughs nervously as tears fill his eyes.  “I could make you rich, man.  Get your mom out the ghetto.  You got any siblings?  You could take them anywhere!  I’ll turn your life around in ways you never seen, just let me out of here with this bitch!”

Sade sits on a stool trying to buff out the mark on her shoe.  “Erik, his voice is annoying me…”  She says in a sing-songy manner.  

Erik pulls out Foley’s phone from his pants pocket, holding it up to his face to unlock it.  

“Fuck!  I shoulda known that facial unlock would bite me in the ass.”

Erik opens his camera to take some pictures.  “Aww, shit!  You finna be the Belle of the Ball once these circulate through your contacts.  No way your bros at the Capitol can clean this mess up.”  Erik laughs, showing the gallery to Foley, who is whining for mercy.

“Come on!  Don’t do this!  Let’s talk this over!  You need some money?  Let me give you something something, and we can work this out.  No harm no foul!”

“Give him your bank login, we’ll handle the rest.”  Sade instructs from across the room.”

Foley shifts, blinking the sweat out of his eyes.  “I-I mean, you don’t wanna give me a figure first-”

Erik sends a strong blow to Foley’s gut, knocking the wind and dignity out of him.

“O...k…” Foley rasps as he coughs through his username and password for Erik to set up a transfer.

“Thanks for the paycheck, bro.”  Erik, takes some leather gloves off of a table, sliding them, flexing his fingers.  “No way in hell you can help me while you still got breath in your body.  And ain’t shit you can do for me.  That neighborhood you wanna run over so fuckin bad ain’t yours to take.  White folks can’t never miss out on a land deal, fuckin colonizers.”

Foley struggled against his bindings, becoming agitated.  “I am providing a service!  Something that will make their world better!”

Erik punches the wall next to his head, cracking the concrete.  “A world you ain’t got no plan to let them in?  They already got a place to stay, and you want them outta there cuz the living is too cheap and they barely affording that.  So instead of working for them, you’re just gonna build shit that they can’t afford, segregating them even more until they gotta leave.  Turning half the shit into fucking parking lots any damn way.”

Foley breathes heavily, swallowing hard.  “It’s so disappointing to hear you settling for less, bro.  It really is…”

Sade comes up behind Erik, handing him a club and brass knuckles.  

“I don’t need that shit, I got this.”  Erik insists with a wink.

Sade rolls her eyes.  “Try not to get blood on your clothes.  We have dinner reservations in an hour.”

As Erik takes off his jacket and dress shirt. Foley says, “Aye, what was it you said before?  Roaches always surviving?  What’s it to you when they’ll find another hole to crawl into?  Making babies and killing themselves, it’s the circle of life.  I'm just tired of seeing your Black asses fucking with my city.”

Erik reaches behind his back near his waistband to swiftly take take out his military issue knife, grabbing Foley by his neck, slamming his head into the wall.  As Foley neck folds sheath his hand, Erik brings the knife slowly to his eye socket as Foley closes his eyelids tightly.  That only makes the process more messy as he screams in excruciating pain while Erik skillfully gouges him.

“There.  Now you aint gotta see shit. That better?”  Sade says, walking away at this point when all she heard was the pounding of Erik’s fist in bone.  Foley’s feebled cries in pain didn’t last long when Erik socked him in his mouth, making him swallow his own teeth.  Sounded as if he even indulged in the knuckles and the club after all, as he dared Foley to say something again, until it was impossible to do so Sade sat in her seat, reviewing her manicure as the cacophony of pounds into Foley’s body turned soft.

Erik’s breathing was the only thing left as he made his way back over to Sade with a wild nature in his eyes, and blood coating his knuckles and face.

“Ohhh, look at you!  You’re never careful when I ask you to!”  Sade scolds him as she pulls out a handkerchief and water, wiping down his hands.

“You know how I get carried away in the moment.”  Erik says, voice gravelly as he stares at Sade.

Sade finishes off his hands, reaching for his face to clean.  “Mhm, I know.  Lucky for you, I brought a spare undershirt to change.  What about your pants…”  Sade brushed some dust near his crotch, feeling his dick twitch under her touch.  “That is enough!  I’m not cancelling this dinner.  It's been weeks in the making!”

Erik bites his lip, leaning over Sade as she digs through her bag.  “You blaming me when you out here dressed like that, kicking white folks in the face and not expecting me to wanna fuck you for that?”

Sade reaches for the collar of his shirt, tearing it halfway off his him with a blade between her teeth.  She takes it and aims it over his chest.  “You know how we celebrate…”

Applying pressure, she drags it slowly across his skin, red liquid bubbling along the length of the cut as Erik seethed.  The satisfying release of his skin allowing the penetration of her blade made her breath hitch in her chest. “We got another one, we mark the occasion.  Without him contacting his people in DC, no way they can settle a vote to gentrify now.”  

Sade runs her thumb along the blood trickling out, wiping it clean before bring her face in his chest to lick his wound.  The soft, muskiness of his skin is too tempting for her to let go as she caresses his chest.

Erik sighs deeply, taking one hand to grab her ass and the other wraps her braids around its knuckles pulling her face back as he devours her mouth hungrily.  Erik lifts her up and onto a nearby table with a thud, pulling her skirt up to her waist as she reaches to free him from his trousers.

“Ooh, dont make me scar your back up now.  This is lucky number 57?”  Sade chuckles as Erik brings ankles to his shoulders, leaning over her.

The way Erik looks at her, one might think she was his sworn enemy.  But this is Erik’s favorite time with Sade.  Not just fucking, but taking out white folks that aren’t doing shit for anyone but themselves, leaving a trail of dead brown and black bodies behind them.  Doing this vigilante justice together never got old.

“Try me. And a lot more to come.”  Erik promises as Sade kisses his keloid riddled arm, biting down once he entered her.

Sade peppered Erik with affection as they fucked.  Their roles easily switched from business to pleasure.  Sade being the brains behind most of the operations, and Erik being the muscle, all he needed was to be told where to go and he had the rest.  But as lovers, Erik took control of her, and she needed that change of pace.  

As Erik reaches for her throat, he put his weight on her, lapping at her neck as he digs her out desperately.  Sade gasped with each stroke he dropped inside of her, seeing stars as her breath quickened.  Her head fell to one side as she got a full view of the damage Erik did to Foley’s body.  The bruising, the bone jutting from his skin, blood pooling near his collapsed skull was all too much for Sade.   She came so hard, Erik nearly slipped in her wetness flooding between them, tightening up on Erik until he contributed his own fluids to their celebration.

Erik lays still on top of her panting.  “How much time left we got on the room?”

Sade rubs his back, still smooth but hopefully not for long once they continue their mission.  “45 minutes.”  She smacks his shoulders, willing him to roll off of her.  “You’re cleaning up by yourself this time.  Your dick is making me miss dinner, I’ve suffered enough.”

Erik laughs slow and deeply as he rubs his face, satisfied all the same.  “You need a mop-iana?”

RagTag  (it’s been so long since I wrote, I’m forgetting who likes to be tagged)

@chaneajoyyy @bidibidibombaclaat @wakanda-inspired